"How's this?" Jack asked as he struggled to balance his weight on the decrepit wooden ladder. "You better make up your mind quick, cause I don't think this ladder can take my weight much longer."
Mary surveyed the swinging sign for a few moments, then shook her head. "Nah, try moving it down just a little."
"What? You gotta be kidding. A minute ago you told me to raise it. Now you want it down again?" He shook his head. "Look, honey. We've got a lot to do and we don't have all afternoon for one task. Hanging a sign is not that difficult. You just stick the pegs in the ceiling and loop the chain around them."
Her short laugh echoed in the stillness of the warm July afternoon. "I'm sorry, sweetie. It's just that I want everything to be perfect."
He was silent for a moment. "All right. I'll move it one more time, but that's it."
"Thanks. All you have to do is lower the piece of chain in your left hand about a quarter of an inch and that should do it."
Without warning, the ladder teetered back and forth. Before Jack could stabilize his position, a loud crack filled the air, the narrow rungs underneath his feet splintering one after another, then breaking away.
"Shhhhhhiiiiiiiittttttttt..."
She watched in horror as he remained suspended at eye-level for an agonizing second, then plummeted to the ground.
"Oh my God," she cried. "Are you okay?"
He glared at her for several moments. "Does it look like I'm okay? Stop laughing. It isn't funny. I could've been hurt."
She extended a helping hand. "I'm sorry, sweetie. You just look so funny sitting there, sprawled all over the floor."
Steel gray eyes narrowed. "Well, you weren't very much help."
She swept an errant lock of brown hair out of his eyes and patted the side of his face. "Come on, Jack. If it had been me, you know you would've laughed. Besides, I would've reacted differently if you'd been hurt."
"I wouldn't have laughed."
She held up her hands and struggled to keep her voice devoid of humor. "Okay. You're right; I was wrong to laugh. I apologize."
He stared as if trying to gauge the sincerity of her apology. The comment he was about to make was cut off when the forgotten sign plummeted to the ground, narrowly missing his head.
Mary took one look at the sign and doubled over. She didn't dare look at Jack. He was mad enough already. Anything she could say would probably make matters worse.
"I think you better go inside, Mary," he warned. "Now."
Nodding, she pursed her lips, not trusting herself to speak. She was still chuckling when she reached the kitchen. Poor Jack—today just wasn't his day.
The icy blast of cold air that greeted her as she opened the freezer felt wonderful to her heat-parched skin. She stood in front of the open compartment, allowing the brisk touch of the cold air to cascade across her cheeks. She filled a glass with ice and closed the door. No sense letting all the cold air out of the freezer—no matter how good it felt.
Thank goodness the work crew would be out tomorrow to finish installing the new central heating and air conditioning unit. The heat both inside and outside the house had been almost unbearable these past few days, thanks to a broken air conditioning unit, high temperatures, and even higher humidity readings.
She grabbed a cold soda from the lower refrigerator shelf, pasted a remorseful frown on her face, and walked out to the verandah. Jack stood on one of the dining room chairs, his back to her. The wooden sign dangled in front of him as he looped the chain onto a hook mounted in a beam above his head.
When he finished hanging the sign and stepped off the chair, she held the out the soda and glass of ice. "Peace offering?"
He shook his head, and a glimmer of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I guess it was pretty funny."
Remembering his awkward sprawl, her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I just couldn't help it. You should've seen the look on your face. It was priceless."
"Forget about it. I have." He draped one arm around her shoulders and planted a light kiss atop her gleaming red hair. "I love you, Ms. Windom," he whispered.
She kissed his cheek and wrapped an arm around his waist. "I love you, too, sweetie. I still can't believe we talked my Aunt Elizavon into selling half her interest in this plantation. It's like a dream come true. First marrying you, and then being able to own half of a plantation bed and breakfast. I keep pinching myself to make sure everything's real. The only thing we have left is to find Justine and Sadie, the old housekeepers. Their presence would make everything perfect. Justine would lend an air of grace, and Sadie would be perfect as the old Voodoo priestess in residence."
"We'll find them; it's just going to take time."
"I know. Thanks for hanging the sign."
Steel fingers tightened their grip on her shoulder. "Before you say anything, I'm warning you that I'm not, and I repeat, not going to move that damn sign again."
Her lips curved into a smile and she nestled closer. "It looks fine, Jack."
"Good. And don't try batting those green eyes at me, either. That sign's staying right where it is. Permanently. Don't even think about moving it."
She slipped out of his arm and stepped away from the porch. Shielding her eyes from the glare, she surveyed the wooden sign, embellished with a blue moon hovering above a white plantation. "It does look good. That carpenter shop did a terrific job on the carving."
"Not bad. Not bad at all."
As she watched Jack pack the rest of his tools into a small metal tool chest, the familiar flicker of desire rushed through her veins. Tall, muscular, and handsome—he was everything she'd ever wanted in a man. She loved everything about him—from the way his gray eyes twinkled whenever he was amused to the errant lock of hair that kept falling into his eyes.
He glanced up and she felt her cheeks burn, embarrassed to have been caught gawking at him like some lovesick schoolgirl.
"Something wrong?"
"Er, no. I was just watching you pack your stuff," she mumbled. Trying to channel her thoughts to something other than sex, she turned to gaze at the beautiful oak trees that stood like silent wooden sentries along either side of the entrance to the house. Thick limbs covered with green leaves stretched out in every direction like open arms, beckoning weary travelers to stop and rest in their cool shade. Under the trees, green grass intertwined with small patches of sweet-smelling clover covered the ground like an endless emerald carpet.
"Do you realize we're nearly finished with the restoration? I can't wait until our guests start coming in. They're going to love this place."
"Yeah, it's been a long time coming, but we're almost there." A frown chased away his smile. "Is Elizavon coming down for the grand opening?"
"Of course she's coming." She walked over and laid her face against his arm. "Sweetie, I know it's going to be difficult for you, but please be nice to her. I want you to promise me you won't goad her into an argument."
He snorted in disgust. "All right. I promise. I just wish we could've afforded to buy her out, that's all. I hate having her as a partner in this house. Maybe if I start doing some estate appraisal jobs on the side we can save enough money to pay her off."
"I've thought about that, but we already travel way too much. How many weekends have you been home in the last two months? Three, four? My schedule's just as bad. I've done so many out-of-town estate evaluations I feel like my butt is beginning to take on the shape of an airplane seat. If we both take side jobs, the only time I'll get to see you is when we pass each other in the airport." She patted his shoulder. "We'll figure something out, but in the meantime, please be nice. And for goodness sake, don't call her Elizadragon. She'd have a stroke if she knew that's what you've nicknamed her."
Jack's frown curved into a malicious grin. "Well, if the forked tongue fits..."
"Jack! That's a terrible thing to say."
"Well, she does remind me of a Komodo dragon, devouring everybody and everything in her way. And, she's just as vicious."
With a fleeting expression of annoyance, she held up a warning hand. "All right, Jack. That's enough; you've made your point. We'd better get busy or we'll never finish. Come on. We've still got two rooms to paint and errands to run. I want every single detail finished before Aunt Elizavon gets here. She'll have a fit if everything isn't spit shined and polished to death."
"When's the unlucky day?"
"The day after tomorrow. According to our last conversation, her plane is scheduled to land around six o'clock."
His face fell into lines of disappointment. Damn! Two days of freedom left. He'd met Mary's aunt twice, and both meetings had been nothing short of disastrous. He recalled china-doll blue eyes that were colder than Mt. Everest and a razor-sharp glance that cut straight to the bone. No surgeon's blade could have sliced through skin quicker or neater than Elizavon's piercing gaze. She'd sized him up in their first meeting, and he'd had the uncomfortable feeling that he'd been found wanting. He'd heard her snort of derision, and when her pencil-thin lips stretched into a malicious smirk, he realized that she'd intended him to hear it. He'd felt humiliated, but what bothered him the most was the fact that she'd accomplished her goal without uttering a single word.
Well, that shriveled up old prune could look down her nose at him all she liked. He and Mary were the top professionals in their field—and he loved evaluating old estates. If Elizavon didn't like what he did for a living, that was just too bad because he didn't give a damn about her opinion. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he realized the next few days were bound to be anything but pleasant. It dawned on him that an out-of-town assignment would be a godsend right now. Maybe he ought to give his boss a call...