Just a Little Bit Guilty Page 6

  Vivian tapped his shoulder, refusing to give into the softness that tugged at her heart. “Down, please. There are three pairs of curious eyes watching this whole scene from my car. You’re not going to be very happy when you find out what I want.”

  He set her down gently, his gaze never leaving her stubborn expression. “Viv, I know I musta seemed kind of, uh, too enthusiastic when I sat in your courtroom all afternoon. I just got carried away watching you work.”

  “Let’s just be calm. Let’s just be friends. I apologize for avoiding you the past week. But I don’t ‘do’ romance well.” She straightened her coat awkwardly. “I’m here on business, and not very pleasant business, either, I’m afraid. Like I said, you’re not going to be happy when you find out what I need.”

  Jake hooked his thumbs into the top of his sweatpants and bowed his head thoughtfully. “I’m listening.”

  “I talked to Roberto. He said you’re letting him move into one of the apartments and you gave him some money.”

  “Enough for him to scrape together a few things. A bed, an old table, a couple of chairs, a fridge, a stove. We scrounged through every salvage shop in town.”

  “I got you into this. I’ll pay you back,” Vivian assured him.

  “No. He works hard. He’s good at carpentry, just like you said. I told him I’d give him what I could.” Jake slowly looked over at her car. He cleared his throat. “I see a lot of eyeballs looking back at me.”

  “They’re attached to three people who need jobs and homes. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  Jake followed her to the car, right on her heels. “Outta the way, Tough Stuff.”

  Like a human forklift, he picked her up and set her aside, ignoring her undignified squeal of surprise. Jake bent forward, rested one hand on the car’s roof and the other on his angled hip then swept her passengers with an appraising gaze.

  “How do, folks,” he said jovially.

  “Hi,” they chorused back politely. He grinned. They grinned.

  “Jake, this is Ray and Fayra Preston.” Vivian pointed to the couple. “They’re brother and sister, and they’re from Bent Switch, Kentucky. They used to work on a farm there.”

  Jake and Ray nodded to each other again. Ray was in the front passenger seat. Fayra sat in the back beside a smooth-faced, sloe-eyed young man with blond hair.

  “Hi, Jake Coltrane,” the man said with childlike precision.

  “This is Andy Rutledge,” Vivian said grimly. “He’s been hanging out with Ray and Fayra, and they look after him. I think he’s from Cleveland.”

  “I’m not s-slow,” Andy said with great dignity. “No matter what anybody s-says.”

  “Of course you’re not slow,” Jake echoed, smiling at him. “You just like to think things over a while, I bet.”

  “That’s r-right, Jake. That’s right. You understand!”

  “Ray, you and Fayra worked tobacco up in Kentucky?” Jake interrupted, scanning them with friendly eyes.

  “You bet,” Fayra answered. “Hard work, too, but we were good at it.”

  “If you worked tobacco, I know you worked hard,” he told them. “You need work now?”

  “Oh, yes! Yes, we sure do!” they chorused. Jake looked at Andy. “What can you do, son?”

  “I’m real good with animals, Jake. And I can do anything anybody shows me how to do!”

  “He’s a good boy, Mr. Coltrane,” Ray added. “All you have to do is guide him a little. He’ll work ’til he drops.”

  Fayra, fortyish and plump, had a pretty, gentle face and expressive eyes that snapped with intelligence. Now she frowned.

  “We don’t want to be any trouble, and we don’t want to go to any shelter with a bunch of heathens. If we can’t work for our dinner, we’d rather starve.”

  “Nobody gets handouts around here,” Jake said cheerfully. “They get as much as I can pay, for as much as they can work.”

  Vivian watched her three passengers brighten. She touched Jake’s arm. “I can help with expenses—”

  “I don’t need any handouts,” he said primly. “You go tell Roberto he’s got new neighbors. Go on, now.” He poked her shoulder playfully. “Go. Shoo.”

  “Go on, Viv,” Andy repeated solemnly. “We’ll stay with Jake. He’ll take care of us. What do we do first, Jake?”

  “I think we ought to—” Vivian tried.

  “Andy, you go with Viv. Ray and Fayra and me will unload y’all’s things. Viv, go on now, tell Roberto what’s goin’ on.”

  “I . . . oh . . . okay,” she muttered. She felt unnecessary, a fifth wheel, a squeaky and abrasive fifth wheel. “Everything will be fine. You can quit worrying. I’ve never let anybody down and I guarantee you—”

  “Nobody’s worried, Viv,” Jake said cheerfully. “You just relax, too.”

  No one noticed that she looked unneeded and forlorn; they were all busy getting out of the car. Jake joked over the trunk full of bedrolls and burlap bags, oblivious to her hurt feelings. Her head down and her eyes brooding, she walked away.

  OVER THE COURSE of the two busy hours that followed, Jake grew more and more worried about her. She didn’t make wisecracks, she didn’t give him the pert, scolding looks he had already grown to cherish and she didn’t boss anyone around. She simply found little chores to do and did them quietly, her black-haired head bent and her hazel eyes dull.

  He gave her one of his shirts to wear over her suit, and she went to work in the apartment next to Roberto’s, sweeping out the empty bedrooms, dusting.

  Jake stole looks at her; if only she cared about him the way he cared about her.

  He caught Vivian looking at him. His stomach drifted down around his knees and stayed there. She had such a frail, sad, little-girl expression on her face that he almost forgot how snippy she’d been earlier.

  They stood staring at each other in an empty bedroom. Before Jake could move toward her, Roberto swaggered into the room and announced that he was going to give his bed to Fayra, if Jake thought that was a good idea.

  “We’ll buy some more beds,” Vivian said immediately, drawing her gaze away from Jake’s. “And some basic furniture.” She gestured at Roberto. “Come on. We’ll browse the Goodwill store first then check out the offerings at the Freight Overstock outlet.” To Jake she said, “Can we take your truck?”

  She had extra money and he didn’t, so he handed her his truck keys. He and she walked into the hallway, Roberto trailing along. Fayra and Andy stopped dusting the walls and smiled shyly.

  “This is a wonderful place, Jake,” Fayra told him, her eyes gleaming with tears. “We’ll work for our room and board harder than anybody you’ve ever seen.”

  “You’ve already put in a week’s worth of work,” he replied. “Slow down.”

  Smiling, Jake looked over at Vivian. His smile died. Her eyes were downcast. She removed his work shirt and tossed it haphazardly on a small crate Roberto had procured as a hallway table then she cleared her throat and went into the kitchen to retrieve her purse and coat from a counter.

  “Hey!” Roberto exclaimed, as he grabbed his own coat. “You guys can’t guess where me and Viv are goin’! Jake’s lettin’ us take the truck to buy some mattresses and some other stuff to make the place a regular palace for everybody!”

  “Thank you, Jake,” Andy said in worshipping awe, “for buying us some stuff. Nobody has ever been so good to us as you have.”

  “I’m not the one to thank,” Jake began quickly.

  “Mr. Coltrane, we’ll sure earn this,” Ray interjected, pumping Jake’s hand. Jake looked down at the serious and wizened face so much older than Fayra’s and knew Ray was telling the truth.

  “God bless you,” Fayra murmured, nearly crying. “We never knew this old world had so much goodness in it before we met you.”
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  Jake glanced up in time to see a strangled expression cross Vivian’s face. Her eyes on Fayra, she gave a light, almost imperceptible nod of agreement. Jake’s broad chest almost burst with emotion.

  “Now y’all, just turn yourselves around and thank the right person,” he started, but Vivian shook her head and hurried out the door before he could finish.

  MIDNIGHT CAME and went before they finished setting up the three twin-sized bed frames complete with top-quality mattresses and box springs. Jake couldn’t believe the amount of money Vivian had spent. She’d bought sheets, pillows and blankets. She’d bought a stove and kitchen utensils. She’d even bought a small television set. On the way back, she’d directed Roberto to stop at a grocery store. While everyone else was putting the groceries away, Jake drew Roberto into the living room.

  “How much?” he demanded. “Gimme the total.” Roberto’s eyes went wide. He held up two fingers. “Two thousand?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, man, two thousand.” Roberto lowered his voice to a whisper. “You don’t understand the Judge. She doesn’t know how to let other people take care of her. She gets nervous when anybody else takes charge. Her husband was a dick, man. He used to boss her around, give her orders, run the whole show. And then when he left her, he made it sound like she deserved it.”

  “Oh, my Lord,” Jake said slowly. He rubbed his forehead in dismay. “I guess I look like another take-charge bullshit artist to her.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Don’t tell her you told me, Roberto.”

  “Oh, I won’t! She’d kill me.”

  Jake ambled into the kitchen with Roberto behind him.

  “Everybody settled for the night?” he asked pleasantly. They were putting the last groceries away. Secluded in one corner, Vivian put a final can of turnip greens into a cabinet. She fumbled it, dropped it on the counter, then grabbed it with a weary hand.

  “We’re settled, Jake,” Fayra replied. She turned from the stove and held up a frying pan. “I’m going to fix some dinner for these fellows. You and Vivian want to stay?”

  “Thank you ma’am, but I need to talk to Viv upstairs,” Jake answered. Vivian swung around and looked at him in dull surprise. “Will you get your things and come upstairs a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Once inside his apartment, he pointed her toward the living room. “How about a shot of Jack Daniels?”

  “I’ll take it,” she mumbled, as he switched on an old floor lamp with a fringed shade. His living room looked like a museum for 1940s furniture. The couch and chairs were upholstered in a quaint, fading flower print. The coffee table was heavy and ornate, scarred with moisture rings and little nicks. A massive roll top desk dominated one wall, and plain, unpainted bookshelves covered another. The shelves were filled with horticulture and veterinary books. A white-brick fireplace angled across one corner of the room.

  “What do you want with your bourbon, Viv?”

  “What are you having?”

  “I drink my bourbon straight.”

  “Well . . . so do I.”

  Jake, who had knelt in front of the fireplace to arrange fresh wood, twisted around to stare at her. He chuckled ruefully, goaded a steady little kindling fire under the logs and went to the kitchen shaking his head. A minute later, he came back with a bottle and two shot glasses full of bourbon, which he set on the coffee table. He handed her a glass and sat down a comfortable distance from her on the couch. He held his glass aloft, and she followed suit.

  “Here’s to closin’ spaces,” Jake said softly. Vivian hesitated, then clinked her glass with his. Jake tossed the amber liquid down in one swallow, grimaced slightly, and set his glass on the table. “Sometimes that’s the best way to drink it,” he began, “but you’d better sip—”

  She gulped her drink. Her face perfectly composed, she thumped her glass down.

  “Viv! I’m a lot bigger than you are. You can’t match me drink for drink.”

  “Try me.”

  He poured them both another shot. Vivian held her glass up. “An apology,” she said quietly. “I’ve been a pain. You’re a good guy.”

  “Why, thank you, darlin’,” he answered in a distracted voice, watching as she swallowed her second shot of bourbon. He drank his, and it sprinted warmly through his veins. Jake blinked several times, rapidly. She looked at him with her head tilted to one side and a cocky expression on her face. Jake decided that his pride was at stake. “Is this a challenge?” he asked jauntily, his eyes tight on hers.

  In answer, one corner of her mouth crooked up, and she poured them another drink. They clicked the glasses together a little harder than before.

  “Here’s to finding out which one of us is the boss in this twosome,” she told him with narrowed eyes.

  “Ah-hah. I see where this is headin’.”

  They sat there a minute, just staring at each other, then polished off another round. This time they set down their glasses in unison. Hers rattled as she let go of it, and his eyes flew to her unsteady hand.

  “You lose,” he said huskily. “Enough of this.”

  “No!” She grabbed the Jack Daniels. With just as much stubbornness, he took the bottle away from her, capped it, and stood up. “Let’s call it a draw.”

  He turned on his heel, walked toward the kitchen slowly, his back straight and almost made it all the way out the double doors before he bumped into one of them.

  “I win,” she called.

  “No way,” he called back. “I meant to hit that door.”

  When he returned, she had gone to stand in the deep shadows by a window. He saw her slumped shoulders and lowered head, and his heart twisted. He crossed the dimly-lit room and took her arm.

  “Would you come on over here and sit down?” he asked gently. “I’ve got things to say to you.”

  With a grim look, she sidled over to the couch. She settled on one end of the flowery cushions and stared morosely into space.

  He sat down within arm’s reach.

  “Look here, Viv, I want to tell you somethin’. But first, can I . . .” He nodded at her hands.

  “Give me a manicure?” she supplied dryly.

  “Hold your hands.”

  She held them out. “On loan.”

  He wound his fingers between hers and squeezed gently. “I just want to tell you that what you’ve done for those four people downstairs is the best, the kindest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “It’s part of my job. I’m all about justice.”

  “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

  “It is, to me.”

  “You’ve got a heart the size of a harvest moon,” he told her gruffly. Her eyes met his and clung. “I feel so humble when I look at all the good you do. I watched you last week in court and I thought, ‘She really cares about people.’ I need for you to care about me. I need you. I don’t mean to come on too strong; I’m not trying to control you. I’m just a . . . a bull in a china shop when it comes to small talk. I can’t do it. I just . . . I just say what I think. It’s a country-boy curse.”

  She smiled tentatively. “I’m trying to get used to it.”

  “I won’t make another move without your absolute go-ahead. Nothing. Not even a wink. Not even a half-a-wink.” He made a dramatic and comical show of almost winking.

  Vivian gave a throaty laugh then slid close to him and put her arms around his neck. Jake suddenly found himself surrounded by the scent of her and then the taste of her as she pressed her mouth to his. Her hands slid down his chest, then around his back and down the flexed curve of his spine. Jake gasped into her mouth as her hands curved along the sides of his hips and the outsides of his thighs. Vivian made a ragged sound and quickly put her hands on his chest.


  She tipped her head back, her eyes half-closed and her face flushed. “If you push me too hard, I’ll push back. Fair warning?”

  He looked at her breathlessly, wanting her so badly that his whole body ached. “Tell me what part you want pushed first.”

  “Surprise me.”

  His fingers trembled as he wound them into the scarf knotted at her throat. He pulled its bow undone. She kept her gaze on his eyes as his fingers slid down the center of her blouse, pressing lightly on the cool material until they indented it between her breasts.

  Her chest swelled invitingly against his fingers. A shudder ran through him, and he pulled his hand away from her. He touched her cheek and looked pensively down into her vulnerable eyes.

  Vivian pressed herself to him quickly and began undoing his shirt. Their legs tangled as she gave him a small push backward on the couch. Her hands slipped inside the worn material and caressed his chest with eager movements that tugged at the curly hair. Jake groaned and grabbed her wrists.

  “I don’t want to do it this way,” he said raggedly.

  Vivian stiffened at the rebuke in his voice as it seeped through her hazy thoughts. “I don’t understand.”

  She tried to pull away, but he only held her tighter. “Where are you going, girl?”

  “Either I keep running away from you or I make you want to run from me. You’re confusing me.”

  “Did I say I want to run from you?” he demanded gently. “But you’re drunk. I don’t want you to wake up in the morning looking at me like I’m a hangover you want to forget.”

  She started to say something else, but her lips froze on the words. She swayed a little, blinking owlishly. “Are you for real?”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “So real I could kick myself for playin’ fair.”

  “I’m not too drunk to make a decision about sex.”

  “You had to get drunk to kiss me.”

  “Not a bad way to jump-start things. I may be rusty, but I’m fast.”

  “Viv, that’s the point. Let’s make this special. I’ve had enough hook-ups and disappointments and reckless failures. So have you. Let’s take it slow.”