One
Cash Hunter made Hugh Hefner look like a blushing virgin.
Hed been in Chandler more than a year now and the talk still hadnt died down. In fact, hed earned a catchy little nickname. People called him “the Woman Whisperer.” A title not unearned.
Josefina “Jo” Marconi remained immune, though.
Well, mostly.
“Ignoring me wont make me go away.” Cash, in all his male gorgeousness, leaned one shoulder against the wall and crossed his booted feet. He moved slowly, lazily, as if he had all the time in the world.
Oh, Jo so wished he was wrong about that. Hed just walked into the Barclay house, instead of staying outside, where he was supposed to be finishing up the trim work. As annoying as Cash might be on a personal level, when it came to woodworking, the man was as talented as he was gorgeous. And that was plenty talented. Still, Jod managed to go all morning without actually having to talk to him. Figured it wouldnt last.
She never should have hired him to help repair and repaint the Barclay house. The man was determined to seduce her for some reason and saying no all the damn time was really tiring. But damn it, she was too shorthanded to ignore experienced help.
She reluctantly lifted her gaze to meet his. The man was just too good-looking for any womans self-control. Even hers. Of course, there was no way shed let him know that.
Tall, with broad shoulders and long legs, Cash had black hair that was slightly too long, his dark eyes were too piercing, his wide grin too knowing, and to top it all off, he even smelled too good.
A serious irritation.
“What will make you go away, then?” Jo asked, her patient tone sugary sweet despite the annoyance pumping inside. Usually the soul of patience—despite what her sisters might think—Jo couldnt seem to help the spurt of temper. There was just something about this man that made her want to tear at her own hair.
Never taking his gaze from hers, Cash shifted and dropped into a crouch beside her. Resting his forearm across his knee, he grinned at her, and tiny lines at the corners of his eyes fanned out. “You agreeing to have dinner with me.”
Jos fingers tightened around the handle of her favorite hammer. “Like thats gonna happen.”
Hed been playing this game for months. Didnt seem to bother him that she blew him off regularly. He didnt care that she never encouraged him—in fact, went out of her way to avoid him.
For whatever reason, she had become Cash Hunters Mount Everest. Didnt matter how many other women had fallen at his feet. He was bound and determined to conquer her.
Well, he was doomed to disappointment. Jo Marconi wasnt about to be conquered. She wasnt interested in a man at the moment—hell, at any moment. Especially one with Cashs track record.
Cash was to women what kryptonite was to Superman. One night in the mans bed was apparently enough to convince even the most sane, reasonable, intelligent woman to give up her ordinary life and go do good deeds. One had gone off to join Habitat for Humanity, one was now in Chechnya, working with foreign adoptions, and still another was off volunteering with the Literacy Foundation.
Of course the talk around town now was that Cash had become a monk. According to the truly excellent grapevine in Chandler, he hadnt been out with any female in months.
Which, to Jos mind, just meant he was getting desperate enough to keep bothering her.
“You know,” she said tightly, “youre just one more straw tossed onto a camel whos already thinking about having a breakdown—when she can find a few extra minutes.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I could help.”
“Is that right?” she asked, and slammed her hammer against a small finishing nail before she looked at him again. Just like a guy to think he could step right in and handle any situation better than a woman. “And just what kind of help would that be?” she asked, glaring at him with enough heat to sizzle his skin. “Ive got one sister so pregnant she cant stand up, let alone work. Another sister just pregnant enough to hurl every fifteen minutes. My father and his girlfriend are off on a cruise, and Im playing temporary mommy to a ten-year-old brother who hates my guts.”
Cash laughed. “Jack doesnt hate you.”
“Im not so sure about that,” she muttered, and thought about how the kid had looked at her just that morning when hed headed off to school. It was the look that she used to give her biology teacher.
“I am. Hes just a kid.”
“I know,” Jo muttered, shooting him a quick look, then shifting her gaze again. “And I wasnt fishing for sympathy.”
Even though, God, saying it all out loud made her want to hop in her truck and hit the nearest freeway ramp. In three days, she could be anywhere. But almost as soon as the idle fantasy erupted in her brain, she shut it down again. She wasnt leaving, despite how tempting the thought was at the moment. If she left, who the hell would hold everything together?
Nope. She was going to keep doing what she had been doing.
Being the oldest Marconi sister.
Being the responsible one.
Being in charge. Even if that meant working double shifts to pick up the slack on their construction jobs—or dealing with a brother she hadnt even known existed this time last year.
Man, it really sucked being her.
And it really pissed her off to have Cash Hunter try to swoop in on a white charger and slay all of her dragons. For Gods sake. Hadnt she made it plain enough that she just wasnt interested in being the next bouncee on Cashs bed? Hadnt she insulted him? Baited him? Ignored him at every opportunity? What did it take to get through to a guy like this?
Her hand fisted around her hammer again, and briefly, she gave in to the indulgent daydream of giving him a good thump with the business end. But then hed be unconscious and shed have to drag his body to a clinic. And who had time for that?
“So, Mr. Wonderful,” she said tightly, when he only continued to stare at her through those dark, liquid chocolate eyes. “If you really want to help, how about you go finish up the trim work? You know . . . outside?”
He smiled at her. “Mr. Wonderful. I like that.”
“You would.” Wouldnt you know that would be the only part of her statement that he paid attention to? Honestly, the man was a walking hormone.
“Hows Jack doing, anyway?”
Good question. Her little brother hardly spoke to her. But then, he hadnt exactly had a great year, either. At ten years old, hed lost his mother three months before in a car accident, then been uprooted from his home in San Francisco to live with his father in Chandler. Not to mention, he had three sisters who were still walking a little warily around him.
It wasnt Jacks fault that Papa had had an affair with the kids mother while Jos mother, Papas wife, lay dying. God. Just remembering it made Jo furious all over again. No one had ever guessed that Papa had been anything but a loving, faithful husband.
Until his minor heart attack a few months ago. For a few terrifying hours, theyd all felt the whisper of Death hovering close. So close that Grace Van Horn, Papas sixtyish ladyfriend, had shattered the Marconi sisters nice little world by insisting on calling the mother of Papas son. Jo was the first one to admit she hadnt taken it well.
But then, finding out that the one man in the world you trusted above everyone else had actual feet of clay was a real eye-opener. Shed just recently been able to look into Papas eyes when she talked to him. And even now, the pain of betrayal was still there.
And so was Jack.
The unwitting reminder of her fathers fall from grace.
As if they needed a reminder. Things were still . . . uneasy in the Marconi family. Oh, Jos sisters, Sam and Mike, had made their peace with their father. But Jo . . . she hadnt been able to let go of the pain yet. The numbing sense of betrayal.
But she so didnt have time to think about all of this now. So didnt have the luxury to indulge in a good old-fashioned pity party with hats and balloons.
“Jacks fine,” she said grimly, determined to believe it.
“Yeah,” he said. “Im convinced.”
She gritted her teeth and tried to swallow down another flash of irritation. “What do you care anyway?”
He shrugged and Jo determined to not notice the ripple of muscle beneath the black T-shirt he wore. He so didnt need any more female fans.
“Hes a good kid.” Cash shifted position slightly as if he were suddenly uncomfortable. “A little lost, maybe. But good.”
“I know.” Jo sighed and hated to admit that the man had a point. Since moving to Chandler, Jack Marconi had wandered around the family home like . . . well, like a kid whod had his world pulled out from under him. And she didnt have a clue how to help him through it.
Frowning at Cash, because she couldnt very well frown at herself, she asked, “Dont you have an elsewhere to be?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Lucky me.” Okay, if he wouldnt leave, then shed just go back to ignoring him. Not so easy, though, when he was right beside her, and she could feel his gaze pinned on her. Besides, his scent kept wrapping itself around her like some damn unwanted blanket.
Leather, spice, male.
Damn it.
“You know what your problem is?” Cash asked, his voice a lazy drawl.
“At the moment?” she asked. “You.”
“Wrong.”
She blew out a breath, slammed the head of her hammer against the finishing nail jutting up from the baseboard she was trying to attach. The heavy smack of metal on wood zinged up her arm and Jo enjoyed it. No matter what the rest of her world was like, she could always at least find pleasure in the work.
And when all else failed, she could use her hammer to beat the crap out of something. Always cathartic.
“Dont you want to know?” he prodded and inched back as she pressed ever onward.
“Do I get a choice?”
“Not really.”
“Oh, then please,” she said, looking up at him and fluttering her eyelashes until she was nearly blind. “Tell me so you can go about your merry way.”
He grinned again, and Jo swallowed hard. The man was as attractive as he was annoying and God knew that was damned attractive.
“Youre afraid of me.”
She snorted and sat back. “Youre a piece of work, you know that?”
“I like to think so.”
She shook her head so hard, her dark brown ponytail whipped around and slapped her in the eye. “Youre incredible. I didnt mean that in a good way.”
Sunlight poured in through the windows behind her and spotlighted Cash as if he were the only player on a stage. His dark eyes, filled with secrets and promises and all kinds of tempting things, were locked on her and there was a knowing smile on his handsome face.
That was his problem, she thought. Too many women over the years had thrown themselves at him. Hed come to think of himself as Gods gift to womankind and every female he met had agreed with him. Until her.
Sure, she was attracted.
There was a nice little hum of electricity whenever he got near her.
But she was in construction. She knew damn well how much damage electricity could cause, so she wasnt about to go sticking her fingers—or anything else—in Cash Hunters socket.
“So am I really that scary to you, Josefina?”
She winced. “Ive told you like a million times I hate that name.”
“Yeah, but I told you a million times I really do,” he teased, that smile deepening. “So, how about it? You going to admit that I scare the crap out of you?”
“You really think you can dare me into your bed?” she asked and lifted the hammer. Not that shed actually hit him with it or anything. Well . . . not unless he pushed her into it.
A damn dimple appeared in his left cheek. “Hey, youre the one talking about beds. I said dinner.”
A shriek sounded in her head and it was only through sheer determination and stubbornness that she was able to keep it from exploding out her mouth. “I dont have time for you,” she snapped instead.
“One of these days, Josefina,” he said, leaning forward until they were practically nose to nose. “Youre going to have to make time.”
Her teeth ground together as he pushed himself to his feet with a lazy motion. Then brushing his hands together, he hitched his tool belt a little higher on narrow hips. “Guess Ill go and finish packing up. Finished the trim already.”
“Thanks for the news flash,” she muttered. God, that she had come to this. Actually hiring Cash Hunter. But with her sisters Mike and Sam both too pregnant to be any help whatsoever, shed had to hire on extra hands. Even if they were attached to the one man in the world who pushed all her buttons the wrong way.
“I really think youre starting to like me, Josefina,” he said, his boot heels thumping on the hardwood floor as he headed for the kitchen door.
“And I think youre delusional,” she said. “Wonder which one of us is right.”
His laughter floated back to her as he stepped out of the room and it took Jo an extra minute or two to convince herself that she was not affected by that low, rich sound.
She wasnt.
She was almost sure of it.
Michaela “Mike” Marconi Gallagher pushed herself into a sitting position, then scooted her heavily pregnant bulk to the edge of the sofa. Bracing her hands on the highly polished coffee table, she gave a mighty heave and . . . nothing.
She glared at her belly and muttered, “You know, before you guys settled in down there, I could actually get up off a couch anytime I wanted to.”
“Whatre you doing?”
“Apparently,” she snapped, lifting her gaze to her husband, “not a damn thing.”
Lucas Gallagher scowled at her, set down the tray of cookies he was carrying on the table and then loomed over his wife. “The doctor said bed rest. I compromised with the damn couch. But you said you wouldnt get up.”
Mike tried smiling at him, but her husband was no pushover these days. He watched her like a mother hen chasing its last chick. And while she appreciated the loving concern, the lack of mobility was making her nuts. Which, for her, translated into crabby.
“Damn it, Lucas,” she blurted, when his features remained stony, “I cant just sit here.”
“Youre right,” he said, stepping around the table. Lifting her legs, he swung them back up onto the couch, then dropped a colorful crocheted afghan over her. “Youre going to just lie there.”
“Like a beached whale,” she muttered, looking down at her huge belly.
He dropped one long-fingered hand onto the mound of their children and gave her skin a slow stroke. “The mother of my kids is not a whale.” He paused, said, “A hippo, maybe.”
Her eyes narrowed.