Sugar and Spice, page 3
And twice as many watercolors, Jayne said—but only to herself. “Is that a fact?” she simpered.
Warming to his subject, Mark continued by explaining the familiar painting, pointing out the colors chosen by the artist to establish mood. He went on to describe how particular lines in the work expressed certain feelings. Jayne batted her lashes at Mark and pretended to be impressed by his knowledge. She wished she had her glasses on so she could see more clearly what he looked like. From a distance he’d appeared attractive enough; close up, he was a little blurry.
By the time Jayne was on the bus for the return trip to her apartment, she was thoroughly disgusted with herself. She wasn’t any better than that syrupy blonde clinging to the arm of her generous benefactor. She was sure she knew much more about art than Mark did, and yet she’d played dumb. He’d apparently done a quick search on Google to collect some basic facts, then spun them into the art history lecture she’d just heard. And she’d pretended to be awed.
Something was definitely wrong with her. She’d always been such a sensible woman. It astonished her that Mark hadn’t seen through her act. She wasn’t convinced she even liked the man. He spoke for half an hour on a subject he obviously knew very little about while Jayne continued to play dumb and batted her lashes every ten seconds. She supposed he was hoping to impress her, but, in fact, he had accomplished just the opposite. The whole production had been pointless—for both of them. He’d asked for her phone number, but she figured she’d never hear from him again.
A walk in the park helped her clear away the confusion that clouded her perspective. She’d thought she’d known what she wanted. Suddenly she was unsure. Knights riding around on white horses, looking for women to escort to class reunions, seemed to be few and far between these days. But then, she didn’t know much about knights, and she knew even less about men. Quite possibly, each and every one of them would turn out to be like Riley Chambers. The thought caused a shiver of apprehension to race over her skin, and she realized for the first time that a slow drizzling rain had begun to fall. Of course, she’d left her umbrella at home. And of course there were no cabs in sight.
Burying her hands deep in her pockets, she quickened her pace. She was three blocks from her building when the clouds burst open in sheets of rain that pelted the sidewalk relentlessly. Jayne was drenched within seconds. Rivulets of water ran down the back of her neck until her hair fell in limp strands. When she stepped into the lobby, her glasses fogged, and her new dress was plastered to her. She felt the overwhelming desire to sneeze. This had been the most miserable day of her life. Not only had she behaved like an idiot over the first man to fall in with her schemes, but she’d been foolish enough to get caught in a downpour. The only thing worse would be to run into Riley Chambers.
No sooner had the thought formed than the man materialized.
Jayne groaned inwardly and stepped into the open elevator, praying he’d take another. The way her luck was going, Jayne should have known better.
* * *
—
Riley followed her inside and stared blatantly at the half-drowned country mouse, a small puddle of water forming at her feet. He couldn’t resist a tiny smile as he studied her. Ms. J. Gilbert was badly in need of someone to watch over her. He hadn’t seen her in the past couple days, and it hadn’t taken long to realize she was avoiding him. That was fine. She brought out his protective instincts with those wide, innocent eyes, which was something he couldn’t really afford. She disturbed him, and innumerable times in the past two days thoughts of her had flitted through his head. Casually he’d tossed them aside, chalking up his curiosity to concern that she might go back to Soft Sam’s.
Jayne turned her head away. “Go ahead and laugh,” she told him, as they began their slow ascent. “I know you’re dying to make fun of me.”
Riley scowled briefly. Suddenly she reminded him of a cat backed into a corner, its fur bristling and claws unsheathed. Riley had no desire to antagonize her. Instead, he felt the urge to comfort her—and that astonished him. “Are you still angry because I saw the title of your book?” he asked.
“Furious.” She slipped her steamed glasses to the end of her nose so she could see him above the frames.
“I didn’t mean to make fun of you.” She looked vulnerable, and he ignored the impulse to ask her first name. He didn’t see her as a Jessica or a Jennifer. Possibly a Jacqueline.
“Why not make fun of me?” she flared. “Everyone else has…all my life. People have always thought I’m some kind of weirdo. I like books. I like to read.” He saw tears in her eyes, and she twisted around so he couldn’t look at her.
The instant the elevator doors parted, she escaped, her shoulders back, her head held high, and glided down the hall to her apartment.
Riley went to his own door, walking slowly. He withdrew the keys from his pocket with a frown, then wearily turned the lock and stepped into his dark apartment. A flick of the wall switch flooded the room with cheerless light. He threw his raincoat over the back of a chair and went into the kitchen to put a frozen dinner in the microwave.
Once again the little mouse, as he still thought of her, had fired to life, turning on him. Even cold and miserable, she’d walked out of the elevator with her chin raised. Her back was ramrod straight, and she moved with as much dignity as any princess. He smiled as he recalled the way her wet dress had clung to her, revealing full breasts, round hips, and a trim waist. She had long legs, nicely shaped. He couldn’t imagine why she chose to hide behind those generic business suits. The dress she wore today was the first he could remember seeing her in. The dark navy color wasn’t right for her. With that chestnut hair and those large honey-brown eyes she should wear lighter shades. At least she’d had her hair down, which was a definite improvement. Although it had been wet and clinging, he just knew it was soft. Silky. He wanted to lift it in his fingers and—
Slumping into a chair, Riley shook his head. He didn’t like the things Ms. J. Gilbert brought to the surface in him. It had been a lot of years since he’d given a woman this much thought. What he felt was pity, he assured himself. She was lonely. For that matter, so was he.
The microwave made its annoying sound, and he removed the tray, wondering what the country mouse was having for her dinner.
* * *
—
Holding a tissue to her nose, Jayne sneezed loudly. Her eyes itched, and her throat felt scratchy. A glance at her watch told her it would be another three long hours before she could go home and soak in a hot tub. Thankfully, Gloria had offered to handle story time today. While the preschoolers huddled around her friend, Jayne sat at her desk and cut out brightly colored letters for the June bulletin board. Her class reunion was only seven weeks away. Like the ominous approach of a thunderstorm, defeat settled over her. She wouldn’t go. It was as simple as that.
“Could you tell me where you keep the biographies?”
She raised her eyes, and they met a familiar blue gaze. Riley Chambers. She clutched the scissors so hard that her thumb ached. “Pardon?” Stunned, she couldn’t remember what he’d asked.
“The biographies.”
In an effort to stall for time, she put the scissors down. Riley Chambers was on her turf now. “They’re directly to your left.”
“Could you show me where they are?”
“Yes, of course, but you look like a man who knows his way around.”
“Not in this library,” he mumbled.
She stood, pausing to push the glasses up onto her nose, then led him to the section he’d requested. “The area to the right is the children’s fiction department for ages three to six. If you like, we’ll stop here so you can browse.”
Riley ignored that. He’d had one heck of a time finding out where she worked. Their apartment manager had to have the most closed mouth of anyone he’d ever known. Generally speaking, Riley approved of that, but with a lie about undefined but urgent “legal matters,” he’d managed to get his answer. “The name Jayne suits you,” he said. He’d seen the nameplate on her desk.
“As long as you aren’t Tarzan.”
“I don’t live in a jungle.”
“But you obviously speak the language.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
After delivering Riley to the section he’d requested, Jayne watched as he took down several volumes and flipped through the pages. She studied him with helpless fascination. Riley Chambers was a cynical man who looked at the world through wary eyes. Nonetheless, she had a glimmer—more than a glimmer—of his sensuality. Horrified at her thoughts, Jayne quickly returned to her desk. She resumed her task, doing her best to pretend he wasn’t anywhere around.
“I’d like to check these out,” Riley said, setting two thick volumes on the corner of her desk.
“Do you have a library card?”
“Yeah. It’s tricky borrowing books without one.”
“You don’t need me for that.” Jayne didn’t know why he’d come. He probably wanted to throw her off guard. That wasn’t going to work. Not in the library.
“I assumed that as a public employee you’d be willing to help me.”
“Books are checked out at the front desk.”
“I want you to do it.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“I’m the children’s librarian.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You look like someone who’d prefer the world of make-believe and happily ever after.”
“Is that so wrong?” she replied, her temper flaring.
“Just as long as you don’t expect to find your heroes in a sleazy bar.”
Color heated Jayne’s already flushed face, and she glanced around, wondering if Gloria had heard him. Gloria raised her head long enough to wink encouragingly. “Why are you here?” Jayne whispered.
“You confuse me,” he admitted after a minute. “Or maybe disturb would be a better word.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Probably because you look like an accident waiting to happen.”
“I don’t need a fairy godfather.” Not when Gloria insisted on waving a magic wand over her head every morning.
“I know what you’re after,” he whispered back. “I saw the book, remember?”
Jayne bit her lip. Riley was playing with her, amusing himself at her expense. “I’m not looking for a husband. I…only need a man for one night.”
“So that’s it.” The corner of his mouth edged up.
“No!” she cried at his knowing look. Her cry attracted the attention of the entire room. The library went silent as heads turned toward them. Embarrassed half to death, Jayne lowered her chin and pleaded, “Would you please just go away?”
Riley abandoned his books and stalked outside, berating himself with every step. Talk about stupid! What kind of game did he think he was playing? Earlier that afternoon the workload had gotten to him, and when he couldn’t tolerate it anymore, he’d leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. A picture of the alluring Jayne Gilbert, all sugar and spice, had immediately entered his mind. He didn’t know why she fascinated him so much. Maybe it was because of her innocence, her gentle beauty, and the goodness he sensed in her.
After a day like this one, he needed some of that innocence. It’d taken him the better part of an hour to get the information about her job out of the building manager. Discovering she was a librarian hadn’t come as any surprise. It fit his image of her. But showing up here hadn’t been one of his more brilliant ideas. He hadn’t meant to browbeat Jayne and he’d been amused by her witty comebacks. She’d held her own.
Feeling angry and frustrated with himself, Riley went back to the office. He’d apologize to her later. Ms. Gilbert deserved that much.
By the time all the paperwork had been cleared from his desk, it was close to eight. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling more tired than he’d been in years. He was getting too old for this work. Grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, Riley tossed his empty paper cup into the garbage can. He hadn’t had anything but coffee since early afternoon. The way things were going in this madhouse, it was a miracle he didn’t have an ulcer.
Once he’d parked in the apartment lot and headed across the street to the building, thoughts of Jayne flooded his mind. He sighed, unable to disperse them.
The elevator stopped on the ninth floor. He stood for a full minute outside her door before deciding it would be better to get this apology over with. He knocked once, loudly.
* * *
—
Jayne was miserable. Her throat felt like fire every time she swallowed. Her head ached, and the last thing she wanted was company. With her robe cinched tight around her waist, she unlocked the door.
“You again?” she whispered, hardly caring. “What’s the matter, didn’t you have enough fun earlier?”
Riley disregarded her comment. “You look awful.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you sick?”
“No,” she answered hoarsely, and coughed. “I enjoy looking like this.”
Without an invitation, Riley walked into her apartment and demanded, “Have you seen a doctor?”
Jayne stood by the door, holding it open and staring pointedly into the empty hallway. “Make yourself at home,” she said with heavy sarcasm. As it was, she’d spent a good part of the afternoon explaining Riley’s visit to Gloria. Somehow her friend refused to believe it was a coincidence that he’d come into the library. According to Gloria, Riley was definitely interested in Jayne. That suggestion only made her laugh.
“You might have a fever. Have you taken your temperature?”
“I was about to do that.” The man appeared oblivious to her lack of welcome. She closed the door and turned around, leaning against it.
“Sit down,” he said.
“Are you always this bossy?”
“Always.”
Too weak to argue, Jayne did as he said.
“Where’s your thermometer?”
She pointed to the kitchen counter and tucked her bare feet underneath her. “Why do you keep pestering me?”
He didn’t respond, seemingly intent on reading the thermometer. Impatiently, he shook it.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered, and when she complied, he gently inserted it under her tongue.
Curious, Jayne followed his progress as he paced the carpet in front of her, checking his watch every fifteen seconds. He picked up a book from the coffee table, read the title, and arched his brows. Replacing the book, he resumed his pacing.
“I came because I wanted to apologize for this afternoon. I had no business, uh, pestering you.”
“Then why did you?” she mumbled, holding the thermometer in her mouth as she spoke.
“I don’t know.” His hand sliced the air. “Probably for the reason I mentioned earlier. You…disturb me.”
“Why?” she asked again.
“If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Then go away.”
“I thought misery loved company.”
“Not this misery.”
“Too bad.” Carefully he withdrew the thermometer and examined it.
“Well? What does it say? Will I live?”
“A little over ninety-nine. Got any aspirin?”
Jayne shook her head. “I’m never sick.”
He studied her skeptically, and Jayne waited for a harangue that never came.
“I’ll be back.” He left her door slightly ajar, and Jayne felt too miserable to get up and lock him out.
Riley returned a couple minutes later, his arms loaded with a variety of objects: a can of soup, a box of tissues, a bottle of aspirin, frozen lemonade, and the paper.
“Are you moving in?” she asked irritably. The other day she’d assumed that she couldn’t meet a man in her own living room. Riley was proving her wrong.
He scowled and stalked wordlessly into her tiny kitchen. What an odd man he was, Jayne thought. He obviously felt something for her if he was going to all this trouble, and yet he didn’t seem to want her company.
After a moment Jayne decided to investigate. Struggling to her feet, she paused in the middle of the room to sneeze and blow her nose.
Riley stuck his head around the corner. “Sit,” he ordered, giving her a ferocious glare.
Jayne glared back at him. “What are you doing in my kitchen?”
“Making dinner. Don’t be ungrateful.”
“I’m not hungry,” she said, advancing a step. Riley would never be able to figure out her organizational methods. He’d look in her cupboards and claim that even her groceries were filed under the Dewey decimal system.
“Is it feed a cold and starve a fever or the other way around?” Riley asked next.
He made quite a sight with his white shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his arms and an apron tied high around his waist. The top two buttons of his shirt were opened to reveal dark curling hair. Jayne couldn’t help smiling.
“Now, what’s so funny?” His own smile was lazy.
“You.”
“What?” He glanced down at his flowered apron. “What’s the matter, haven’t you ever seen a man working in the kitchen?”
“Not in mine.”
“Then it’s time you did.” He turned away from her and took a saucepan from the top of the stove, then opened and closed her cupboard doors until he located glasses and bowls. “You should smile more often,” he said casually as he worked, pouring equal amounts of soup into the wide bowls.
“I’ve got a cold. My head hurts, my throat feels raw, and there’s a crazy man in my kitchen, ordering me around. Give me a day or two, and I’ll find the humor in all of this.” She didn’t add that she had seven weeks to come up with a man who’d make heads turn when he walked into a room.
