How long would he really want to settle down? Would he be happy in the same place, playing father and husband just like other men? Could cautious Anne, hung up on stability and schedules, really hold his interest for the long term?
His eyes flickered to hers, and she hurriedly opened her book again. To the same page she’d already read four times. Jake’s toe suddenly started a lazy circular motion on her hip. Her palm enclosed his toes scoldingly. He chuckled.
“You’re bored with that book,” he accused.
“I am not.”
“You are. When are you going to amble over to the desk and sort out my mess?”
She flipped the page. “You don’t make a mess. You just keep on with that theme because you know it makes me worry about you.” Narrowed eyes scolded him over the top of her book. “A typical masculine ploy.”
“How could you misjudge me so terribly?” He sounded wounded.
She plied a fingernail down the length of his foot, and chuckled when he laughed. They read for another moment or two, until Jake said casually, “The IRS is going to do an audit on me next month.”
Every muscle in Anne’s body went instantly rigid.
Chapter 14
Like a general facing Code Red, Anne’s mind registered Emergency with frightening efficiency. Jake smiled at her lazily. The next five minutes were a mass of confusion. Jake opened up four paneled doors, revealing built-in drawers and cabinets, boxes of tumbling papers. Anne raced to the kitchen to make coffee. Desk drawers opened and slammed; Anne adjusted the light above the desk.
The noise abruptly ended. Jake returned to his Mickey Spillane adventure, occasionally rising long enough to refill the coffee cup on her desk. The storm ended in late afternoon, and dusk settled in with total calm. When Jake brought in a tray of sandwiches and set it on the carpet, Anne rose from behind the desk for the first time in two and a half hours. She settled cross-legged on the floor, across the tray from Jake, vaguely aware that two weeks ago she would never have considered picnicking on the carpet when there were perfectly good tables strewn throughout the house. An irrelevant thought.
Jake handed her a sandwich, a huge amalgamation of ham and bacon and turkey and lettuce and cheese, so thick she could barely get her fingers around it. “So what do you think?” he asked casually.
“That it would take an efficiency expert months to get you organized.” Green eyes made every attempt to cow the humor in his own. “Have you ever heard of the word file?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t believe it. Spell it.”
“F-i-l-e,” he obliged. He swallowed a mouthful of sandwich, not easy to do when he was wearing his widest crooked grin. “The lady is about to spit a little fire,” he speculated to thin air.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Just because you’ve stuffed receipts in shoe boxes? Just because you’ve got active bank books buried in a mound of candy wrappers?” She took a sip of tea. “Did it ever vaguely occur to you that when you fill out your tax returns in crayon, the IRS might get a little curious?”
“Now, Anne. Let’s not exaggerate.”
“No one overpays the IRS one year by some ridiculous sum, and then the next year turns in a half-done tax return with a big check and a note that says, ‘I’m sure this will cover it.’” Her voice was rising in spite of herself.
“I was busy last year at tax time.” He brushed the crumbs from his hands, his silvery eyes glinting on hers, full of amusement, and certainly not concerned. “Why does everyone see the IRS as some kind of enemy? I don’t care if they come here and turn everything topsy-turvy. What’s the difference? I’ve got nothing to hide.”
She cradled her head in her hands. “Just bring me an aspirin, would you?”
He sighed, his expression turning serious as he pushed the tray aside. “Anne, in certain ways, I know well I’m probably not going to change. When I take on something, it’s for the challenge of it, not the money involved. I like to earn money, but once that’s done, the challenge is gone. Hear me?”
“All I hear is that you have to be the first person in history to get in trouble with the government for overpaying your taxes,” she moaned distractedly. “Jake, hasn’t anyone ever mentioned to you that people cheat right and left to get out of paying taxes? Do you realize exactly how much you’ve thrown away by never acquiring a tax shelter?”
“But that’s all your bailiwick,” he said patiently, and drew her up to a standing position. “Come on, time to clear away the cobwebs. Let’s sit outside.”
Jake took the tray to the kitchen, then draped a sweater over her shoulders as they wandered outdoors, making their way to the narrow wet dock that led to the gazebo over the water. The storm had left the lake unbelievably calm and clear; stars shimmered on the surface like diamonds on black velvet. Waves lapped gently at the shore, reminding Anne of the sleepy rhythm of a lullaby.
Jake’s gazebo was five-sided, with two sides walled for privacy and shade and the others screened for a clear view of their cove and the lake. Two chairs were wet, but the lounger, tucked in the shaded corner, was dry. Jake stretched out first, then pulled Anne between his thighs. She leaned back, resting her head on his chest, her pulse beating at a still-troubled rate-but less so. No matter how concerned she was for his finances, she had also just spent hours bent over a desk, and this break was welcome. Jake crossed his arms under her breasts, comfortably secure. “Now do you believe I need you?” he asked finally. “Things have rather gotten out of hand the last few years. The silver boomeranged on me. I had more profits coming in than I ever expected. And my trip to Tulsa just seemed to be a case of being in the right place at the right time. Actually, Anne, the money started accumulating when I was still a kid, fishing off the coast of Alaska. I had nowhere to spend the money while I was stuck on that boat. It just sort of all got away from me…”
Unfortunately, she could believe him. Not that anything had “gotten away from him,” but that he honestly hadn’t noticed how much wealth he had accumulated over the years. Jake really just didn’t care about money; he never had. His fingertips gently combed back her hair, and Anne sighed in confusion. Even that casual touch was a whispered call to another world: sensual, primitive, dark. Filled only with Jake. “Normal people hire accountants,” she tried one last time, but there was no bite left in her voice.
His lips hovered at her temples. “I know my tax accounts wouldn’t be a full-time job for you, Anne, but there’s more than enough financial work around here to keep you busy the rest of the time. I never expected that you would be happy just sitting home. Maybe with children, in time…but that will be up to you. And Coeur d’Alene has possibilities for you that we haven’t even talked about.”
For a man discussing career possibilities, his hands were certainly on a different wavelength. He shifted her so she was lying at an angle across his lap, her head tilted back in the crease of his shoulder. In the darkness, shadows and light played over his features, making his silver eyes glow as they came closer. “I need you, Anne,” he whispered. “The way you argue, because you’re so darned pragmatic and so intelligent, your warmth and your laughter and the way you fit next to me. The sound of your voice. I need your heart-”
“You have it, Jake. You’ve always had it,” she murmured.
He shook his head. “A part, never all. I want all of you, honey.”
Those smooth, cool lips settled over hers-but they weren’t at all cool now. Warmth and tenderness were so much a part of his kiss that a ripple of sheer sensual tension rocked Anne. Heart, body, soul…was that all he wanted? All of them at that precise moment went on the auction block. Her tongue slipped inside his mouth, wantonly wooing him, teasing the tip of her tongue against his.