Wedding His Takeover Target / Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby

Five

Caldwell’s old bones had been right, Gavin concluded as a cold gust of wind cut through his turtleneck, chilling the sweat he’d worked up while unloading the building supplies from the truck bed.

He monitored Sabrina’s progress as she carefully picked her way down the brick sidewalk through the snow that had begun feathering down five minutes ago. The stubborn woman had insisted on helping him empty the truck despite the worsening weather. And while he admired her grit, as Henry called it, Gavin didn’t want her doing any heavy lifting or slipping and cutting herself on the pane of glass she carried toward the porch. If that made him a male chauvinist too bad.

After he stacked the last two gallons of paint inside the storage closet he grabbed his coat from the railing where he’d tossed it then let himself into the warmth of the cozy, good-smelling kitchen. The kitchen at Jarrod Manor had never had this welcoming atmosphere.

The glass pane lay on the table, still in its brown paper wrapper, but there was no sign of Sabrina. He caught the tap of her boots down the hall as he hung his coat on a peg by the back door, shed his gloves and mentally shuffled the chore list. Having weather change a timeline on a job was nothing unusual for him, but usually there were tens of thousands of dollars in penalties at stake. This time the delay was a reward rather than a punishment because it worked in his favor.

Sabrina returned. “Pops is napping.”

Her discarded knit cap had ruffled her curls, giving her a sultry, just-out-of-bed look that contrasted with her reserved expression. She’d shed her outerwear giving him another chance to appreciate her lean curves in a body-skimming sweater, this one a pale blue that accentuated her eyes. Her gaze met his and he experienced a now-familiar punch to the solar plexus.

“Go home, Gavin. We can’t work in the snow.”

She wasn’t getting rid of him that easily. If the only thing they had going for them was chemistry, then he intended to exploit it shamelessly to get what he wanted. “We can’t paint when it’s snowing. I’ll start with replacing the window.”

Her breath hitched. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she briefly glanced away. “That can wait.”

“It’s the quickest job on the list, and with the temperature dropping it makes sense to fix the broken glass rather than lose heat. Show me which room.”

She pinched her bottom lip between her teeth and shifted on her feet. “Pops can do it. Or you can tell me how and I will. It’s something I need to know anyway.”

“It’s easier to show you. Sabrina, I’m here to work. I can either get on with it, or I can spend the afternoon sitting in the kitchen watching you cook and waiting for the weather to clear enough for me to tackle another job.”

Wide-eyed horror morphed into resignation in her features. “This way.”

He’d never encountered anyone so determined not to like him, and he had to admit the novel experience wasn’t an enjoyable one. He picked up the glass, points and glazing compound and shadowed her down the hall instead of upstairs as he’d expected. He took the opportunity to enjoy the angry sway of her hips. She had a nice butt—slender, but with just enough meat on it for a man to grip.

She paused, puffed out a breath and then pushed open a door and motioned him to go ahead. He stepped through the doorway. A subtle, but unmistakably familiar scent filled his nose and stopped him in his tracks. Sabrina’s cinnamon, vanilla and flowers scent. This wasn’t a guest room.

“This is your room,” he stated.

“Yes.”

His attention shot to the bed—a bed they would share in the near future because, damn it, he would not fail. He couldn’t wait to see her hair spread across those pristine white pillows and feel her naked body against his beneath the old-fashioned quilt. He might even shove one of those prissy lace pillows under her shapely behind to improve the angle when he drove into her. The pressure in his groin increased and his pulse pounded in his temple.

He exhaled and examined the rest of the space, searching for clues about his mysterious bride-to-be. The furnishings were traditional and uncluttered, but feminine nonetheless with white painted furniture and a mostly white décor dotted with pastel shades. The only thing that didn’t fit the pale color scheme was the U.S. flag in its triangular glass and dark cherry wooden case sitting on a desk in the corner.

He wouldn’t have pegged her as the patriotic type.

A picture frame rested on each bedside table. Henry and a woman, presumably Colleen, smiled in the photo Gavin could see from his position by the door. The angle of the other concealed the subject. Intent on seeing who else Sabrina kept by her bed when she slept, he stepped deeper into the room.

Sabrina moved between him and his goal. “The broken window is in my bathroom. That way.”

Rather than reveal his curiosity, he headed in the direction she indicated. She followed him. Her bathroom seemed to shrink in size with the pair of them in it. They stood within touching distance, and he was tempted to reach out and stroke the smooth, flushed skin of her cheek. But she seemed on edge. There was a time to make a push for the finish line and a time to maintain the current pace. This was the latter.

Rather than moving in for kiss number two prematurely and risking spooking her, he scanned the work space. A white claw-foot tub with brass feet sat in one end of the room. His mind instantly filled with images of Sabrina naked and wet with her damp dark curls streaming over the rounded tub edge as she waited for him there. His heart pumped faster.

Hoping to derail the train of heat steaming south, he averted his gaze to the vanity which, like her bedroom, lacked the clutter of makeup, perfumes, toiletries and junk the women he’d known in the past deemed necessary for life.

She pointed to the window. “I’m not sure what broke the glass. A bird, maybe. I didn’t find one outside.”

A diagonal line, patched with wide clear tape, split the pane. But her rushed speech interested him more than the cracked glass. Why was she so uneasy around him if not for the sexual chemistry? She might deny it, but she felt it.

“Should be a simple repair. I’ll talk you through it.”

She backed a quick step. “No. Go ahead. I’ll leave you to it.”

He caught her hand and she gasped. “I thought you wanted to learn how?”

Her gaze flicked to his, then away. A line formed between her brows. She tugged at her hand and he let her smooth fingers slide through his. The rose of her cheeks darkened. “I—I need to start lunch.”

“This will only take a few minutes. We can remove the sash and work inside rather than tackle the job from outside. It will take a couple of extra steps, but you can handle them.”

“I’ll learn another time, and I’ll close the door to keep the cold air from sweeping into more than this room.” She left hurriedly, the door snapping close behind her.

More curious now than ever, Gavin let her go. There was no doubt his touch affected her as strongly as hers did him, but she was resisting. The question was why?

He quickly finished the simple job, then gathered the broken glass and tools and returned to her bedroom, determined to see whose face she looked at when she laid in bed.

The photo frame was gone. Sabrina must have moved it.

What did she have to hide? It was imperative that he uncover her secrets and get on with his plan.

Sabrina tried to be as quiet as possible while washing the lunch dishes, but no matter how hard she strained, the men’s voices didn’t carry clearly enough from the living room for her to make out their words.

Eavesdropping! How low was she going to have to go to get rid of Gavin Jarrod?

She shouldn’t leave Pops alone with him, but until she made sense of her jumbled thoughts, she had no choice, and washing up was her first break away from Gavin’s intense scrutiny since he’d returned from fixing her window.

Having him in her bedroom had felt like an invasion—but in an agitating way, not a repulsive one. Her skin had flushed and her pulse and respiratory rates had increased.

Only because you haven’t had any man other than Pops in your bedroom since Russell.

Right. She’d been uncomfortable, not anything else. She definitely had not been turned on.

When Gavin’s gaze had looked toward the flag, then moved on to Russell’s picture, shock quickly followed by panic had seized and chilled her. She used to end each day looking at the flag and remembering her husband had been willing to die for a cause he’d passionately believed in. Every night before she’d closed her eyes she’d told the image of Russell’s beloved face good-night.

When had she stopped? She couldn’t remember.

Guilt poured over her. Shaken and weak, she’d hidden the photograph because she couldn’t bear Gavin asking about Russell. And he would, the nosy bastard. She hated that she’d been so rattled she hadn’t even been able to stay and learn basic window repair. How could she take care of the inn if she didn’t tough it out?

And then Gavin had watched her throughout lunch with that wolf-like predator’s awareness of his. Her nerves had stretched to almost the breaking point as she’d waited for him to voice the questions in his eyes and rip the scabs off barely healed wounds. But he hadn’t. Instead he and Pops had discussed the dam Gavin had built in Namibia. If she’d been less tense she would have been fascinated by the stories Gavin told of his adventures. He’d worked in places she’d only dreamed of seeing and done things she couldn’t even begin to fathom. It must be amazing to look up at a massive dam or bridge and know you’d had a part in its creation.

Pops shuffled into the kitchen, followed by Gavin. The men headed for the coatrack.

She quickly dried her hands. “Where are you going?”

“Henry wants me to take him to the mine,” Gavin answered.

No. “But it’s snowing.”

“It stopped an hour ago and we checked weather radar. The next band of snow won’t move through for a couple of hours.” Gavin helped Pops with his coat.

She scrambled for excuses. “The ground will be slick.”

“I’ll drive him as close to the mine entrance as possible,” Gavin replied in a deep, patient tone that made her want to scream. “With the forecast we have we won’t be able to make the trip later in the week.”

If she couldn’t make the lug head see reason, she’d work on Pops. She turned to her grandfather. “What about your aches?”

“They’ve eased a might since my nap. The exercise will do me good. Might even loosen me up.”

She couldn’t let them go alone. Gavin had already gotten a promise to sell land and a blank check. No telling what else he would wheedle out of Pops. “I’ll go with you.”

“We’re taking the pickup,” Gavin warned.

She smothered a grimace. That would put her in the sandwiched-between-two-men position she’d fought so hard to avoid this morning. “Fine.”

Gavin held out her coat, leaving her no choice but to turn her back and let him assist her. She shoved her arms into the sleeves and before she could step away he scooped his hands under her hair to pull it free of her collar. His fingertips grazed her nape. A shiver of awareness trickled down her spine.

Startled, she jumped out of reach. She was not attracted to him. Absolutely not. She wouldn’t let herself be. She had too many good reasons to dislike and distrust him.

“Pops, wouldn’t you prefer your beaver hat?”

“B’lieve I would.” He shuffled toward his bedroom.

Sabrina waited until he was out of earshot, then scowled at Gavin. “The climb will be too much for him.”

“He can handle it if I take it slow and stop to show him points of interest along the trail.” He kept his voice at the same low volume as hers.

“Gavin—”

“He needs to do this and you need to let him.” His firm I’m-the-boss tone warned her not to argue. But that wasn’t going to stop her from trying to protect Pops.

“He doesn’t have to do it today. He can wait until it’s warmer.”

“Today is the anniversary of the day he and your grandmother carved their initials into the beam. He claims it’s the last time they were happy together before her pancreatic cancer was diagnosed. He wanted to go alone, but I insisted on tagging along.”

Sabrina’s heart clenched and her anger deflated. Could Gavin be a complete ass if he were this considerate of Pops?

“I didn’t know about the anniversary. He’s never said anything before. In fact, they never told us about the diagnosis until close to the end. I guess I should thank you for insisting on going.”

He snagged her knit cap from the peg and tugged it over her head. The intimate gesture startled her and made her chest tight, but she couldn’t move away since he still gripped her cap.

“Sabrina, I like your grandfather. You have nothing to fear from me as far as he’s concerned.”

Gavin looked and sounded sincere—and she wanted to believe him—but there was too much at stake to risk being wrong. “You’d better not be lying.”

“I don’t lie.” He slowly trailed his knuckles down her neck and then his palms over her shoulders, her arms. His fingertips raked along the back of hers, making her jump at the jolt. Static electricity. That’s all it is. He ended the contact seconds before Pops entered the kitchen.

With her pulse banging wildly in her ears, she trailed the men to the truck and reluctantly climbed into the middle of the bench seat. Gavin slid in beside her. His big body pressed hers from knee to shoulder and not even several layers of clothing could block the heat radiating from him. Her skin tingled. Her heart skipped. Awareness pooled in the pit of her stomach, heavy and hot. She wanted out of this vehicle, and yet she couldn’t avoid this excursion and still protect Pop.

Time seemed to crawl as they crossed the valley and ascended the ridge with each bump in the road making her burn from the friction of Gavin’s hard male body chafing against hers. Relief surged through her when Gavin finally parked the truck. She jumped out of the cramped cab as soon as Pops was out of her way and took a deep, sobering breath. But a nagging part of her noticed and missed the warmth Gavin had provided.

Gavin took a different path than the one he’d hiked with her last time. They hadn’t gone a hundred yards before she noticed her grandfather’s raspy, rapid breathing. Before she could say anything Gavin stopped. “This is the best view of the valley. If I ever decided to return to Aspen for good, I’d build a house here.”

Pops leaned against a rock. “You could be right. I can see the inn and Colleen’s favorite spot by the river.”

The sadness in Pops’s voice tugged at Sabrina’s heart. She hooked her hands through Pops’s elbow, offering support. She ached over losing Russell, but she’d only had him for a fraction of the time her grandparents had been together. How would it feel to lose someone who’d shared almost a lifetime with you? She didn’t want to know because she didn’t think she could survive it. Would she always ache for Russell the way her grandfather did for her grandmother?

The old anger stirred. She only half-listened as the men made small talk about the city’s history as if they’d known each other for years. She’d wanted the rest of her life with Russell and she’d been robbed of it. He’d sacrificed his life so others could return to their wives. He’d chosen his men over her.

When Pops caught his breath, Gavin continued up the path only to stop again at the first sign of Pops struggling and point out some odd rock formation. She was both impressed and appalled at the smooth way Gavin manipulated her grandfather. This consideration was the last thing she’d expected of him, and if he hadn’t warned her what he’d planned she never would have guessed each pause in their trek was deliberate and not incidental. But that he did so without giving a clue to his motive worried her. How else could he fool her—and Pops?

When they finally reached the clearing her grandfather tramped ahead of them toward the mine entrance.

She held back with Gavin. “That wasn’t the way you brought me the other day.”

“You could handle a more strenuous ascent.”

The rat bastard. “You had me huffing and puffing and sweating just for fun?”

“The tougher trail is more picturesque, but I doubt Henry could handle it.”

He was right on both counts. Her anger died quickly. She turned to follow her grandfather. Gavin’s big hand curled around hers holding her back and making her wish she’d taken time to put on her gloves.