he asked, turning back.
Rick looked up. “Another salary wouldn’t translate well on the projected profit and loss statement we need to provide the bank for that new loan.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Forget it.”
Cole went to his room and dressed in a pair of jeans and a Perrini Homes T-shirt, then settled in his private office, where his primary tool was the telephone. Rick, with his natural talent for numbers, was the company controller and ran the front office, and Chad, as general contractor, handled most of the subs. But there were still a million details Cole felt more comfortable handling himself—like meeting with the county planners, coordinating inspections, dealing with the appraisers, signing the escrow papers when each house closed, approving new building plans and arranging financing for future projects. His days were long, but he loved his work. Nothing was more fulfilling than seeing a family pull into the driveway of a house he’d built, get out and water their flowers, or stand at the curb and talk to their neighbors.
But today Cole couldn’t seem to settle into his usual routine. In his mind’s eye, he kept seeing Jackie, the trembling of her lip, the proud tilt of her head, and knew he couldn’t ignore whatever it was that was wrong.
Finally he picked up the phone and called information. They had no listing for Jaclyn Wentworth, but they had a J. Wentworth. He jotted down the number and dialed it. An answering machine picked up, and a child’s voice told him to leave his name and number.
He hung up and grabbed his keys. It was time to return to Joanna’s Restaurant.
COLE DOUBLE-CHECKED the address the waitress at Joanna’s had given him, pulled to the side of the road and sat staring at Jaclyn’s small house.
Damn. He’d had to go back to Joanna’s, hadn’t he. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. And now he knew Jaclyn had been fired and that she’d needed the job she’d asked him for, a whole lot more than she’d let on. Which left him with a decision. He could involve himself further and try to help her, or he could turn around and drive away.
His better judgment urged him to drive away. Jackie’s problems weren’t his problems. Lord knows, he’d had a hard enough time pulling himself and his brothers out of Feld, keeping food on the table, supporting his parents until they passed away and trying to build a new life and a business here in Reno. The last thing he needed was to take on more dead weight. It wasn’t as if he had money running out of his ears. Perrini Homes was dangerously over-leveraged. If Oak Ranch didn’t sell well, he could lose everything.
But Jaclyn’s getting fired had come on the heels of his interference with that jerk who wouldn’t pay his check yesterday, and he feared he might have cost her her job. Beyond that, he’d once been where she was right now—desperate, alone and new in town.
With a heavy sigh, Cole cut the engine and strode to the house. At his knock, the porch light came on. Jaclyn cracked open the door, then stepped back and swung it wide when she recognized him.
“Cole. How did you—”
“Hi,” he said. “Looks like I’ve found the right place.”
“How did you get my address?”
“Maddy at Joanna’s gave it to me.”
“You went back to Joanna’s?”
“Yeah, I was looking for you.”
“Oh.”
“Can I come in?”
She hesitated, seeming embarrassed, but finally motioned him inside. “Of course. I was just doing some housecleaning. The kids are with Terry for a few days, so I thought I’d get some things done around here.” She stripped off a pair of yellow rubber gloves. “Can I get you a drink?”
Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was wearing a simple tank top and denim shorts without shoes, but she looked even prettier than she had in her dress. Her firm, well-toned legs seemed to go on forever, and her skin, slightly damp with sweat, looked creamy and soft.
Cole tried not to notice that there was anything appealing about her. Jackie represented Feld and everything he’d escaped there.
“No thanks, I’m good,” he said, moving past her.
The house was filled with old mismatched furniture, but it was clean. And it smelled like Jaclyn, a little earthy and definitely feminine, despite the hint of Lysol coming from the gloves she’d cast aside. Whether or not he wanted to admit it, Cole liked the smell. It reminded him of meadows and brooks and warm summer days. But from the looks of things, Jaclyn hadn’t gotten a very big divorce settlement.
More bad news.
“You renting?” he asked.
She surprised him with a grin. “You think I’d buy this dump?”
“Beats a trailer.” He smiled back, remembering, in spite of himself, the first time he’d ever seen her. She’d been sitting in his English class at the beginning of his senior year, and just the sight of her had thrown his boyish heart into overdrive. She had to be the only girl who’d ever made his palms sweat. Of course, that was before he knew she was a cheerleader, vice-president of the Honor Society, and captain of the debate team—exactly the type of girl who would never be interested in a tough, poor boy who missed as many days of school as he attended.
For a moment, the memories of Feld threatened to swallow him up again, but he focused on what Jaclyn was saying and pushed them aside.
“I wanted the kids to have somewhere to ride their bikes and set up a lemonade stand and run through the sprinklers,” she said. “The neighborhood’s not as bad as it looks, really. Mostly old folks on a pension.” She sank into a seat across from him. “Of course, my three kids spice things up a bit.”
“I bet.” Cole noted that most of the pictures on the walls were crayon drawings, and wondered what Jaclyn’s kids were like. After raising his brothers, he swore he’d never have any children of his own. He’d had enough of that kind of responsibility. But he’d bet Jaclyn’s were cuter than most. Not that he wanted to meet them. He planned to offer Jaclyn the money she needed to get on her feet, and move on.
He cleared his throat. “I guess you know why I’m here.”
She stared down at the threadbare carpet. “You found out I was fired yesterday.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you didn’t need to come.”
She smiled, making another valiant effort to act as if she was fine, but Cole noticed how her hands fisted in her lap.
“Now that I’m on my own, I’d better get used to the ups and downs of it, don’t you think?”
“How bad are things?” he asked, cutting to the chase.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “They’re fine. I’m fine—”
“Jackie, I didn’t come here for more of your stiff-upper-lip routine. I’m willing to help you, but I can’t do that unless I know what you need.”
“What
