Under His Spell (Holiday Hearts #4) Read online

  He shrugged. “The trainer sends me home with a box of stuff, I buy the rest. It’s all balanced for protein and carbs, according to the nutritionist.” When she made a face, he smiled. “See, I deserve sympathy, not sarcasm.”

  “Think of it as tough love.”

  “Zat so?” His eyes were speculative.

  “Well, the tough part, anyway. Not the love part.” Definitely not the love part. “Speaking of which, your bosses can’t be thrilled that you managed to get yourself hurt playing around. Don’t you have a contract that says what you can and can’t do?”

  “Not exactly. Anyway, I’ve got to train to stay in shape, so there’s always a possibility something will happen.”

  She turned toward him, leaning one arm on the back of the couch and studying him. “You’ve never really gotten hurt, though, have you?”

  “Not surgery hurt. Little stuff that healed on its own a couple of times. I’ve never had to go under the knife. Shoot, I think I’m the only skier I know who hasn’t.”

  She remembered during the Olympics, hearing the commentators read off the seeming litany of injuries for each competitor. “Does it ever scare you, going down the mountain? Knowing what could happen if you make a mistake?”

  He moved his shoulders. “The worst thing you can do is think about it. You do that, you start skiing scared. You get cautious and tense and you make mistakes.”

  “The science of not thinking?”

  “If you like.” His teeth gleamed.

  “You’ve made an art of it.” She’d always assumed it was just J.J. being J.J. She’d never thought about the fact that his tendency to avoid thinking about the consequences was a habit born of professional necessity. “Do you ever think about what you might have done if you hadn’t been a skier?” she asked.

  He was silent so long she almost thought he wasn’t going to answer. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Nothing indoors, that’s for sure. Work in my dad’s construction company maybe. Work at a ski resort.” His tone suggested that neither appealed very much.

  “I guess it’s lucky that skiing worked out.”

  “It’s always been about snow and the mountain for me. I just can’t imagine anything else. Anyway, let’s talk about something more interesting than that.” He reached out to play with the ends of her hair. “So what are you doing this weekend?”

  “Don’t you have moving in to do?” she asked, moving her head away. It didn’t do to let her guard down.

  J.J. shrugged. “I’m as moved in as I need to be. I was hoping for a friendly tour.”

  Sheer self-preservation had her rising. “You want friendly, I’m sure there are agencies you can call.” Lainie picked up the plates.

  “She cuts me without even a flinch,” J.J. said, grabbing the empty beer bottles. “Here I am, new in town, and you won’t even give me a break.” He followed her into the minuscule kitchen.

  “You’ve never in your life given me any reason to.” She set the dishes in the sink.

  “Spend some time with me and I will.”

  “Your problem is that you’re terminally out of touch with reality.” She turned to set the pizza box on the trash bin and found him right behind her. The breath backed up in her lungs. She kept her voice calm with effort. “I believe you’re in my way.”

  “I believe that’s intentional.”

  She swallowed. “I believe it’s time for you to go.”

  “You really think so?” He reached out to trace his fingertips slowly down her throat. “I think it’s still early.”

  Ignore it. “You’re not going to kiss me,” she said as much to herself as him.

  His smile was slow and dangerous. “Oh, I think I am. Sooner or later.”

  Her chin came up at that. “Get out of my way.”

  “Spend tomorrow with me.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You want me to leave, I’ll leave, as long as you promise to spend tomorrow with me.”

  “That’s blackmail.”

  “No, it’s not, it’s a simple deal. Either you spend the day with me or I kiss you, fate worse than death.”

  “Don’t make me sound ridiculous.”

  He fought to keep from smiling. “I’m not. The choice is yours, anything you want to do. Just show me a side of Salem I haven’t seen.”

  Arms crossed, she stared daggers at him as the seconds ticked by. Then suddenly her expression lightened. “Well,” she said briskly, “then I guess it’s time to call it a night.”

  “It’s early,” he argued, but moved out of her way and followed her to the door, knowing when to give in.

  She unfastened the latch and turned to face him. “You want a side of Salem you haven’t seen? Fine. Downstairs, tomorrow morning, seven-thirty.”

  “Seven-thirty? What, are you one of those sunrise watchers?”

  “Don’t want to go? Suit yourself.”

  “I’ll go,” he said hastily. “I just don’t understand why you’re so dead-set on starting at dawn.”

  “I’m not the one demanding to be entertained.”

  “You think getting up at seven-thirty is entertaining?”

  “No one’s making you show,” she reminded him, and opened the door to wave him through.

  “I know, I know. All right, I’ll see you then. What are we going to do?”

  She gave him a smile he didn’t trust. “It’s a surprise.”

  Chapter Seven

  He’d forgotten how beautiful New England Septembers could be. Blue skies, balmy temperatures—sometimes the Indian summer was better than the real thing. It had been too long since he’d been at home for this part of the year, J.J. thought as he walked across the street to Lainie’s house.

  It had been too long since he’d had a home, period, not that his current rental was all that much to shout about. Then again, this time of year, he’d normally be staying in a rental condo somewhere, trying to remember which time zone he was in and waiting for the season to start, with its parade of hotels.

  Which made him enjoy staying in one place all the more.

  He vaulted up the porch stairs and rang Lainie’s bell. He’d rung her bell a little bit the night before, he figured. That was the key, keeping her off balance so she didn’t have time to come up with meaningless reasons why not. Given time, he knew he could convince her to take a chance.

  He was pretty sure the result would be worth it.

  Then the door opened and she stood there, and for a moment all he could do was stare. There was just something about her, something he’d never fully appreciated before. Somehow she was just a little more alive than anyone else around her. Something about her sparkled.

  She stepped out the door carrying a canvas tote bag and gave him a critical scan.

  “What?” J.J. glanced down at his cargo shorts and boots. When your thighs were four or five pant sizes larger than your waist, shorts were always the best option. He’d chosen the faded Clash T-shirt because he liked it, and because he figured that whatever they were doing outdoors wasn’t likely to be a garden party. He’d chosen the work boots because he thought sneakers with shorts looked dumb. “Are we going to a wedding or something?”

  She shook her head. “No, you’ll do just fine.”

  “That’s a relief,” he said dryly. “So just what are we doing today?”

  Lainie reached out and patted his cheek. “You racer types are so impatient.”

  He caught at her hand. He saw her eyes widen and darken, but he didn’t let it go. “Not always. I’m willing to bide my time for things I want.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out for a moment. Experimentally, he gave a tug on her fingers to bring her toward him. Something like alarm flickered in her eyes. For a moment she swayed, then she tensed and set herself. “The deal was that I show you a part of Salem you haven’t seen—”

  “Or I’d kiss you,” he finished. “Last night. I never made any promises about today.” The hell with it, he de
cided and leaned in to brush his lips lightly over hers.

  Her response surprised him. She didn’t move, she didn’t protest. But she trembled lightly, he could feel it.

  He grinned. “Good morning, Lainie.”

  And for once she had no comeback. She swallowed. “I…we’d better get where we’re going or we’ll be late,” she said faintly.

  “I think we’re already on the way,” he said.

  It was just surprise, she told herself, surprise and nothing more that had had her standing there like a ninny. It wasn’t as though a guy—particularly J.J.—could poleax her with a kiss. And yet, that was exactly what had happened, wasn’t it? It was one thing to be somewhat…discombobulated when a man kissed you senseless. In a situation like that, a woman had every excuse.

  A chaste little peck shouldn’t have stopped her in her tracks, though. It shouldn’t have wiped every thought from her head except how soft his mouth felt, how warm, how real.

  It shouldn’t have made her crave more.

  So what did it mean? she wondered as she directed J.J. through Salem, studying his profile covertly. What did it mean that she’d stayed up watching movies until almost three the night before because she’d been too keyed-up to sleep? What did it mean that her tossing and turning in bed had been punctuated by dreams of him?

  He flicked a glance at her, and the heat of those blue eyes sizzled through her.

  What it meant was that she darn well needed to watch her step.

  “Park anywhere,” Lainie directed J.J. as he drove down a tree-lined street in an older neighborhood. It wasn’t the beachfront sunrise or dive breakfast he’d expected. Bemused, he pulled to the curb. It was easy enough—clearly they were in a neighborhood of homeowners, not renters, so the street wasn’t bumper to bumper with cars. It was a step up from the neighborhood they’d left behind. The yards actually contained grass, not dirt and weeds, and the houses looked kept up. Small, maybe, but at least cared for.

  Mostly, he corrected himself as Lainie started up the driveway of a cramped, shabby-looking house in a dispirited shade of green. It wasn’t the sort of place to inspire comments about what a difference a coat of paint would make. It would take a lot more than paint for this one.

  “Don’t tell me you’re house hunting,” he said.

  “Not exactly.” Her lips quirked in what an uncharitable man might call a smirk.

  And then he saw the sign and it all made sense. “Human Habitat?”

  “Yep. Welcome to our house-wrecking party.”

  Around the lot, people milled, some with tool belts and hard hats, others standing around at loose ends. Enthusiastic but unskilled labor, he identified the latter. In the corner was the man who looked to be in charge, judging by the rolls of plans and the walkie-talkie phone hooked to his belt. J.J. didn’t envy him his job.

  “I thought Human Habitat was about building houses, or fixing them up.”

  “That, too.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Do you have any idea how much work this is going to take?”

  “Days, probably.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “You wanted a side of Salem you hadn’t seen.”

  “Yeah, but I figured you’d take me on a haunted house tour.”

  “I thought I’d give you a chance to repay your debt to society. Besides, you’ve never lived until you’ve taken out a kitchen window with a sledgehammer.”

  It was the weekend, for chrissakes. He’d been looking forward to relaxing, having fun, spending some time with Lainie, not working in the heat. He worked too hard as it was. “Well, I was—”

  “Lainie!” high-pitched voices chorused and a confusion of bodies flew toward them. The tangle resolved itself before Lainie as Kisha, Tyjah, a taller, doe-eyed girl, and he wasn’t sure who-all else.

  Lainie didn’t seem to care—she grabbed them all in a hug. “Hey, guys, you’re here early.”

  “We’ve been here for hours and hours,” Kisha informed her, then looked up at J.J. “I brought my sister, Latrice,” she said with a nod toward the older girl. “Did you bring your sister?”

  J.J. shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “That’s part of the deal,” she informed him. “We get a new house, but we gotta help build it. Are you going to help build it, too?”

  “Looks like you’ve already got yourself a house.”

  She gave a dismissive glance at the dilapidated structure and folded her arms like a union foreman. “That sad thing is just in the way. I’m gonna knock holes in the walls and we’re gonna put up a new one, and it’s gonna have white shutters and window boxes for Gran’s flowers and I’m gonna have a bunny rabbit in the back named Bugs.”

  “That’s a good name for a rabbit,” J.J. said gravely. “So you’re going to knock it down all by yourself? Don’t you need a little help?”

  “We need a lot of help.” She eyed him. “That gonna be you?”

  Lainie stood with crossed arms, studying him as though she knew just what he was going to say.

  You won’t even give me a break.

  You’ve never in your life given me any reason to.

  He smiled at Kisha. “I think it just might be.”

  It wasn’t what was supposed to happen, Lainie thought as she watched J.J. tackle the brick fireplace, knocking a chunk of it loose with each well-placed swing of his sledge. She’d never for a moment expected that the good-time party boy would agree to spend his weekend doing volunteer work. He was supposed to take one look and run the other way. That he’d stayed had her shaking her head in bewilderment.

  And wondering if she really knew him at all.

  “Well, we’re making a good start,” a voice said from beside her, and she turned to see George from Cool Beans.

  “With a foreman like you, how could we miss?”

  “It’s not the person who runs it, it’s the quality of the labor.” Hands on his hips, he scanned the living room, watching the group in the corner working loose the carpet, another team pulling out the windows, and J.J.

  And J.J., she thought, watching the muscles ripple in his back under the T-shirt.

  “So who’s your fella?”

  She blinked. “He’s not my fella.”

  George gave her a long, amused look. “You so sure of that?”

  She wanted to be, Lainie thought.

  It wasn’t the same thing.

  “He’s someone I grew up with,” she said instead, and prayed George would let the topic drop.

  “They build ’em tough up there in the north,” George observed. A ripping sound had him turning to look at the carpet team, who’d finally succeeded. “We need to get everyone out of here so they can get the rug up,” he said. “Let’s go grab your buddy and you can introduce me while you’re at it.”

  She threw him a suspicious look. “What are you up to, George?”

  “Nothing,” he said innocently.

  They picked their way gingerly across the living room to where J.J. stood swinging the hammer with a kind of exuberant glee. The thud of metal against brick punctuated their steps.

  “Take ten, John Henry,” George said.

  J.J. stopped the sledge in midswing, his muscles standing out with the effort. Then he turned to them. There was something elemental in the way he looked, patches of sweat darkening his T-shirt as he held the forty pound hammer like it was nothing. Man and muscle, as it had always been, since the earliest days. He swiped at his forehead.

  And if Lainie didn’t watch out, she’d be the one breaking out in a sweat next.

  “You want me off this?” J.J. asked.

  George hooked a thumb at the carpet team. “I want you out of the room so these guys can finish the job. Take a break?”

  “Works for me.”

  Outside, J.J. set down the sledge, wiping his hands on his shorts before holding one of them out. “J. J. Cooper,” he said.

  “George Metcalf.” George squinted at him. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”


  “You do now,” J.J. said.

  “Well, that’s true. You live in Salem?”

  “For the time being.”

  George nodded. “I run Cool Beans, the coffee shop downtown. Lainie’s probably brought you in.”

  “Not so far.”

  “Falling down on the job, Lainie,” George pronounced. “You’re supposed to bring me new customers.”

  J.J. looked at her. “You holding out on me, Lainie?”

  “Think of it as a pending education.”

  George led them over to the tiny garage where a sheet of plywood on sawhorses served as command central. His eyes twinkled. “Step into my office.” He dug out some paper cups and a silver pump thermos and poured them all coffee. “You move like you know what you’re doing, Cooper,” he said, handing the cups to J.J. and Lainie. “You got experience in this kind of work?”

  “My dad runs a construction company. I used to work for him, summers. Everything from gofer on up.” J.J. rubbed at his shoulder absently.

  “Oh, hell, J.J., your shoulder,” Lainie blurted. Even if it was supposed to be healed, what had she been thinking, bringing him to a construction site? “How’s it doing?”

  “It’s fine,” he said too quickly.

  George gave him a critical look. “Something serious?”

  J.J. shrugged. “Nah. Dinged up my shoulder a little a couple months ago. The doctors tell me I’m good to go, though. The work probably helps it.”

  “Unless you do too much,” Lainie said.

  He gave her a mulish look. “It’ll be fine.”

  He didn’t like the idea of infirmity, she realized. He wasn’t about to admit, even to himself, that his shoulder couldn’t do everything it always had. Instead, he’d do extra to prove that it could, and never even acknowledge that in doing so, he could make it worse than ever.

  “You know, I could use someone to run another crew,” George said casually. “Leave fewer of these good people standing around, wondering what to do. You interested?”

  “In supervising?”

  “Sure. Watch other people work for a change. Unless you’re too hung up on that sledge of yours.”