Mr. Predictable. Molly O'Keefe

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СКАЧАТЬ screeched to a halt and glared at her good and hard. “No, you will not,” he said firmly. “I make a habit of calling my sisters three days a week and this is one of those days.”

      “Your sisters are married and on their own,” she reminded him gently.

      “Yes, and I paid for their weddings and walked them down the aisle,” he informed her tartly. “They’re the two reliable relationships in my life and I will call my family if I feel like it!”

      Moriah squared off against him, her smile still intact. Why was he not surprised? “Your sisters know exactly where you are and what you will be doing for the next two weeks. Furthermore, you’re here to break habits.” She outstretched her hand, palm up. “Give me the phone, Jake.”

      “The name is J.T.” He sneered at her.

      “I told you that sounds too stuffy and businesslike, Jake,” she repeated emphatically.

      Their gazes locked and clashed. Jake was accustomed to giving orders and having them executed quickly. But Moriah, apparently, was accustomed to getting her way, too, especially while she was on her own turf. For the first time in forever, he felt his confidence waver. That determined look on Moriah’s face indicated she wasn’t the pushover he hoped she’d be.

      “Don’t make me send Tom Stevens out here to disarm you of your sacred phone.”

      J.T. smirked at the threat and drew himself up to his most imposing and intimidating stature. “Tom and whose army is going to confiscate my state-of-the-art cell phone?”

      To his dismay, Moriah let loose with a sharp whistle that blasted his eardrums. Immediately thereafter a big brawny, muscle-bound hulk—who had a monobrow stretching over his deep-set hazel eyes, and was built like a professional linebacker—appeared in the doorway of the lodge.

      “Trouble, Mori?” Tom asked as he crossed his brawny arms over his buffalo-size chest and took J.T.’s measure through a narrowed gaze.

      “Am I having trouble, Jake?” she asked all too sweetly.

      J.T. considered his options and decided he didn’t have any. Damn it to hell! Muttering begrudgingly, he fished his cell phone from his suit pocket and slapped it into Moriah’s outstretched hand. He should’ve known Miss Smiley would have plenty of muscle to back up her demands.

      Moriah tucked the phone into the pocket of her shorts, then grinned at Tom Stevens. “This is Jake Prescott,” she introduced. “Tom is our masseuse and weight trainer—”

      “And your hired muscle,” J.T. finished for her. “Gee, I thought the idea here was to avoid stress, not get me all tensed up thinking I’ll have a serious fight on my hands if I don’t meekly comply with your unreasonable demands.”

      Tom grinned, displaying a missing front tooth. J.T. would hate to meet the burly SOB who knocked out Tom’s teeth.

      “Nice to meet you, Jake. Come ’round and see me about a massage when you get settled in.”

      “Sure, Tom. Looking forward to it like you wouldn’t believe.”

      He was looking forward to nothing of the kind!

      When Tom disappeared back inside, Moriah smiled good-naturedly at J.T. He gnashed his teeth.

      “It’s not unusual for our guests to suffer electronic-gadget and caffeine-buzz withdrawal the first few days, but it won’t be long before you realize there’s life beyond your regular routine in the business world. You’ll do fine here, Jake.”

      Although he’d been defeated, he couldn’t resist tossing a sarcastic rejoinder to soothe his offended pride. “Yeah, I’ll do fine as long as I get my daily recommended dose of sex.” He checked his watch, hoping she wouldn’t take it away from him, too. “What time can I expect Lolita to show up at my cabin to scratch my daily sexual itch? I’d hate for her to come by during my usual yoga meditation session and deep breathing exercises.”

      “Sorry, no Lolita,” she informed him as she led the way into the lobby of the lodge. “Maybe our cook, Anna Jefferies, will accommodate you. You can ask her.”

      Anna Jefferies introduced herself to Jake a moment after he strode in the door. The stout, curly-chestnut-haired woman looked to be in her late forties. Judging by her leathery skin and wrinkled features, she’d spent a great deal of her life outdoors. She offered him a steaming cup of herbal tea and butter cookies while Moriah stashed his electronic devices in the safe behind the registration desk. J.T. didn’t ask Anna for sex, of course, although Anna’s conventional style of dress—a cream-colored blouse and faded blue jeans—held more appeal than Moriah’s loud attire.

      When he saw Moriah’s lips twitching as her gaze bounced back and forth between him and Anna, J.T. muttered under his breath. Damn, he’d like to wipe that smile off Miss Chipper’s lips—or kiss it off…. J.T. jerked upright so quickly he nearly spilled hot tea down the front of his white shirt.

      Where the hell had that ridiculous thought come from? Oh sure, he found Moriah Randell attractive, even if he didn’t approve of her bright clothing, her gaudy red fingernails, those huge hoop earrings and clattering bracelets. But, under no circumstances was he going to develop an interest in a woman who was his complete opposite during his two-day stay in the Oklahoma outback. Two days, he told himself resolutely, and then he was outta here!

      “C’mon, Jake, I’ll introduce you to the golf course manager and stable manager,” Anna said, latching on to his arm to drag him along behind her. “Everybody’s just finishing up supper. Moriah will bring your meal to your cabin since you arrived late.”

      While Anna shoveled Jake forward to make the acquaintance of the staff, Moriah filled out paperwork then grabbed the key to the available cabin. Her gaze drifted over the six-foot-two-inch, raven-haired man who’d given her a bad time during the hour drive to the resort. Sex, sex and more sex indeed, she mused, chuckling. She’d never heard such a crock of malarkey from one of her guests.

      Of course, most of her guests came willingly, after a panic attack or some physical ailment that alerted them to their high-level stress. Jake Prescott, the King of Denial, had to be deceived into his two-week stay. His sisters were firmly convinced that Jake would never agree to come here on his own accord.

      Moriah shook her head at the outrageous exaggerations Jake had concocted when she tried to make him aware that he’d become stuck in the rut of working non-stop without time off for relaxation. She didn’t believe that nonsense for a minute because J.T.’s sisters had filled her in completely.

      According to Kim and Lisa, their older brother had become entrenched in routine and went through each day like a programmed robot. He left his house at precisely the same time each morning, stopped for a pastry and coffee, worked through the lunch hour, then returned home with a briefcase full of work projects. He had no social life worth mentioning. The only dates on his calendar were the ones his concerned sisters set up for him in attempt to alter his monotonous lifestyle.

      Moriah was sure Jake would be a hard-core case that demanded extra time and effort. He refused to open up to her, refused to admit he led a mundane, predictable life that was devoid of entertainment and pleasure. Of course, the first difficulty for Jake to overcome was admitting he had a problem that needed to be addressed. Considering the resistance he raised, it could take a week for him to realize he needed to kick back and relax.

      It СКАЧАТЬ