Bedded for His Pleasure: Bedded by a Bad Boy / In the Gardener's Bed / The Return of the Rebel

‘That’s dreadful.’ Jessie knew the other woman was the gallery’s chief sales assistant and part-time curator.

‘It’s not all that serious, but Ellen won’t be in for the next two weeks and I need someone to cover for her in the mornings. I wondered if you could come in?’

‘I’d love to,’ Jessie answered instinctively, then remembered her conversation with Ali that morning. ‘Oh, but I can’t—I’m supposed to be going to New York with my sister and her family tomorrow.’ After all, she’d come to America this summer to help out Ali and Linc. ‘But I suppose I could speak to my sister about it.’

‘Why don’t you call her, dear, and find out if she needs you there?’ Mrs Bennett sounded undaunted. ‘I’ll pay you Ellen’s hourly rate and it will be a good opportunity for you to look at the rest of our stock. I need some advice about what to hang now you’ve managed to sell ten paintings in the space of two weekends.’

It wasn’t until after she had confirmed with Ali it would be okay for her to stay in the Hamptons that it occurred to Jessie what else Mrs Bennett’s impromptu job offer would mean. She’d be spending a fortnight alone with Monroe. Okay, so he’d be in his garage apartment and she’d be in the house, but she had as good as issued an ultimatum to him yesterday evening at dinner. What would she do if he decided to take her up on it? That the thought was exciting as well as terrifying could not be a good sign.

Jessie was debating that fact when Mrs Bennett strolled into the gallery’s tiny office.

‘Is it all settled, then?’ she said.

‘Yes, I’m okay to stay.’

‘Excellent. Now, you’re needed out on the floor—a very attractive young man’s just strolled in. Either he’s penniless or he’s the first beatnik I’ve seen in twenty years, but, either way, it’s never wise to ignore a customer.’

Jessie was walking out into the exhibition space, contemplating what the next two weeks alone with Monroe could mean, when her mouth dropped open.

Monroe Latimer was standing staring at one of the gallery’s largest seascapes. His hands were tucked into the back pockets of ragged jeans, his head tilted to one side as he studied the work. He didn’t just look attractive. He looked mouth-watering—and ridiculously out of place in Mrs Bennett’s ritzy little art gallery. That combination of cute and dangerous could well be her undoing, Jessie decided as every nerve ending in her body stood to attention.

Taking a deep steadying breath she walked over to him. Challenge or no challenge, they were going to be the next best thing to room-mates for two whole weeks and she had to learn to deal with him. She also had the little matter of his artwork to work on, too. The perfect opening had just presented itself and she wasn’t going to be a coward and ignore it.

‘So, what do you think of it?’

As Monroe turned and saw Jessie standing behind him, his first thought was he’d made a big mistake. In the businesslike silk suit, her wild hair pinned up, she looked ridiculously prim and pretty. The urge to tug the pins out, feel the gilded flaming mass fall through his fingers, was almost uncontrollable.

He’d been offkilter, out of sorts the whole day, thanks to Linc and then Ali and even the unborn baby. It seemed the whole damn family was working against him, forcing him into a place he didn’t want to be. It made him feel trapped, but much, much worse, it made him feel wanted. He didn’t like it.

He didn’t know what impulse had sent him into town to see Jessie.

Somehow, the thought of seeing her had buoyed his spirits. Even when she’d messed with his emotions the night before, the tug of arousal had been there. That, at least, was familiar territory. Something he understood. But standing here looking at her he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t in control here, either.

It had to do with that look in her eyes he had seen the night before. The same look he could see in them now. Awareness. Yes. Desire.Yes. But where before there had been irritation and annoyance, now there was understanding. It made him very uneasy. Unfortunately, that still didn’t stop him from wanting to drag her into his arms and muss up that pretty hairdo.

‘Monroe?’

He’d been staring at her blankly for almost a minute, looking dazed. It was so unlike the cool, confident guy she knew. It worried her. She could see then what she’d seen yesterday evening; the confusion in his eyes.

‘Right, the painting, sure.’ He gave it a quick glance. ‘It’s too flat.’

She looked past him at it and saw he was exactly right. The oils had been expertly applied but failed to capture the churning magnificence of the sea in full storm mode. ‘Gosh, you’re right, it’s rather cheesy, isn’t it?’ Jessie turned back to him. ‘Monroe, you’re staring at me again. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, nothing at—’ He stopped, seemed to collect himself. ‘I’ve been invited to a six-year-old’s birthday party.’

Jessie grinned. ‘You’re going to come?’

‘Ali didn’t give me a choice.’ He sounded a little annoyed, she thought, and grinned some more.

‘We don’t call her the stormtrooper for nothing.’

‘It’s just that—’ he pinned her with his eyes ‘—I don’t know what to get Emmy. For a present, I mean.’

‘You don’t have to get her anything, Monroe.’

His gaze sharpened. ‘Yeah, I do.’

It occurred to Jessie, even if he was down to his last dollar, he would get Emmy a present. And she had once accused him of being a deadbeat. How wrong could a person be?

‘There’s a lovely little toy shop on Main Street,’ she said, feeling guilty, desperate to make amends. ‘You’re bound to find something perfect in there.’

He gave a furtive glance round, took a step closer. ‘No way am I going in there alone.’ The words came out on a strained whisper.

‘Let me get this straight,’ Jessie said, enjoying the look of horror in his eyes. ‘A big, bad guy like you is scared of going into a toy shop?’

‘Right down to my toes.’ He gave a mock shudder. ‘When do you get off here?’

Jessie looked at the clock on the gallery’s wall. ‘In about half an hour.’

‘Great, I’ll meet you over at the diner. Don’t even think about skipping out on me. I’ll hunt you down.’

Jessie couldn’t imagine why the threat excited her. ‘Okay, but you’ll owe me.’

‘No sweat.’ Monroe tapped his finger on her nose. ‘See you later, Red.’ He sauntered out of the shop.

Jessie grinned, already anticipating an afternoon of toy shopping with the most intriguing, desirable man she’d ever met.

She’d revised her opinion somewhat, ninety frustrating minutes later.

‘What is this? A severed head?’ Monroe grumbled.

Jessie grabbed the hair and styling doll out of his hands and put it carefully back on the shelf. ‘Shh. It’s a hair-dressing kit. What about these dolls? She loves them.’

‘What the hell?’ He stared at the gaudy toys a moment. ‘I’m not buying a little kid a doll that looks like a hooker.’

Jessie tried to quell her irritation. After all, it was touching that he would want to get Emmy something really special—but also that he would worry that he might get it wrong. She wondered if he knew how hard he’d fallen for the little girl.

‘Don’t worry, Monroe.’ She laid a hand on his arm. ‘We’ll get the right gift, even if it takes us all afternoon.’

He dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘Thanks. It’s important.’

‘Yes, it is.’ She never would have guessed how important until now.

Jessie studied the row of fussy little boutique shops across the street as they left the toy shop. Her eyes lighted on something at the end of the road, nestled between a cookware emporium and an expensive leatherwear shop. It made a slow smile spread across her face.

‘I’ve just had a fantastic idea.’ She grabbed Monroe’s hand and pulled him across the street.

‘You’re a smart lady.’ Monroe tucked the small toolbox under his arm. Full of handy little car maintenance accessories, it was just what any budding mechanic could wish for.