"So, you'd need to balance your current arborist commitments with the demands of Magnolia's business. What's in it for you?"
He downed the last of the toast and took a deep drink of his coffee. "A stake in her firm. A hefty one. We'd be partners, essentially. Plus support staff to handle billing and scheduling, which—apparently—is not my brother's job."
"I can understand how one could see that conclusion as foregone," I replied. "What's holding you back? Is it working with different people or priorities? Giving up or scaling back your existing business?"
"A bit of all that but mostly the responsibility. Right now, I can take on as many clients as I want. I can work four days a week if I feel like it. I'm not accountable to my partner or my employees if I decide I want to slow down or take a month off to travel. I'm the only person I'm responsible for and I'm not sure I want that to change. Even if she does have some really cool equipment."
"Then it's not about the money. Not for you."
He shook his head. "No. I'm fine as I am. If I partnered with Magnolia"—he shrugged, lifting both hands and letting them fall to my shins—"well, I'd have more but that wouldn't change anything. It's just money."
Spoken like someone who never found himself without enough to get by.
"Anyway"—he waved a hand at the papers—"if you want me to make a call, I'll do it. She'll have a team down here within two hours."
"If you did that, I'd have to empty out the garage or the other side of the basement, or decide what I'm going to do about Midge's things, and I don't want to do any of that. Not yet. The side door, the carpets, the walls—that stuff doesn't require any real decisions, and I have to tell you, I've made enough decisions for this month. Fixing the porch doesn't require anything like that."
Linden reached across the table and gathered up the plates, and jerked his chin in the direction of the dirty dishes I'd accumulated. "You cooked, I'll clean up." When I made no move to pull my legs from his lap, he added, "I'm catching up on paperwork this morning and then heading out for a residential appointment in Weymouth but don't let me interfere with your plans. The shower is free if you want it."
We stared at each other for a moment, my legs in his lap, his hands on my thighs, all the tension in the world between us. I might've spent the night but I'd never taken off all my clothes and bathed with him only a door away. He'd never listened as water rushed over my body and we both knew it.
"Yeah," I said on a sigh. It was a big sigh too, the kind that fell into the heaving bosom category. Me, heaving my bosom. "That's a good idea."
Except I didn't move. Not even an inch.
He ran a hand through his short beard. "Need anything?"
I gave a slight shake of my head. "I think I left my bathrobe next door but I'll manage without it."
I didn't mean to imply that I'd sashay out of the bathroom dripping wet. I wasn't suggesting I'd strip down naked here in the kitchen. But Linden's eyes went hot and wide nonetheless—and he yanked his plaid shirt over his head.
"Take this," he said, holding out the flannel to me, leaving him in a tissue-thin gray t-shirt. There was a tattoo on the inside of his bicep, a single rangy mountain with a dragon flying over its peak, and some kind of inscription ringing around them. On the other arm, the blade of a sword poked out from under his sleeve. I couldn't see the rest.
I took it, held it to my chest. "You won't miss it?"
He closed his fingers around my ankle, shifted the sole of my foot flat against his fly. He was hard—and working himself through his jeans with my foot while I clutched his shirt, andthiswas what I meant by all the tension in the world.Thiswas why my bosom was heaving. This was it. Right here.
"I should get started." I pushed back in my chair though that meant I gave him a firm, unexpected press with the ball of my foot.
"Jasper," he groaned, both hands wrapped around my ankle now. "Fuck.Jasper."
With as much grace as I could manage, I retrieved my legs and pushed to my feet, grinning at Linden's unmasked distress as I grabbed my tote bag. He didn't move from his seat at the table, his hands cupped over his crotch and his gaze raising a blush to my cheeks. I didn't look away until I had the door closed behind me.
* * *
As luck would have it,I ended up needing Linden's shirt. I'd left my robe at home plus the "until I put on my real clothes" top I usually wore. The only article of clothing worth wearing was a fresh pair of leggings, unless I wanted to give yesterday's outfit another spin—which I didn't.
So, while I twisted my hair into a knot, I stepped out of the bathroom in leggings and his shirt, which fell to my mid-thigh. "Thanks for the—"
The front door swept open and in came a tornado of a woman, moving and talking and dropping packages in a loud, colorful blur. I stood frozen while I watched this tornado blow through.
"Linden, be a good boy and get the box of preserves from my car. I didn't mean to can so much, I got carried away with the fruit. It's just so good and I have so much fun and—oh, hello dear." She stopped, grinned at me with a deep pink lipstick smile, and without taking her eyes off me, called to Linden, "You didn't tell me you were having guests today."
Her purple ankle jeans and pink pullover with a crisp white blouse underneath reminded me of a Talbots catalog, though the dark hazel eyes, just like her son's, sized me up right away. It was the middle of the workday and I was fresh from the shower, and that meant only one thing as far as mothers were concerned.
"Just the one guest, Mom." He stood up, gave me asorry about thisshrug. "Jasper, this is my mother, Diana, who has forgotten how to knock. Mom, this is Jasper-Anne Cleary."
I held out my hand to her. "How do you do?"
