The Haneys: What You Do To Me Part 9

"You're feeling a tiny bit guilty because you took pleasure in strutting your stuff in front of a man you're obviously attracted to, and he-poor heteros.e.xual drooler that he is-took the bait. In fact, I'm pretty sure he swallowed the hook." He laughed at his own joke. "He reacted exactly as you hoped he would. Am I right?"

"Yes." She had strutted her stuff, and she'd reveled in his reaction. "Let me get my purse."

Brent was grinning when she returned. "What now?" she demanded.

"You should've seen the way your blue-collar stud glared at me while he helped you into your coat."

She sucked in a breath, gaining a new understanding of the expression guilty pleasure, only in this case, the expression should be pleasurable guilt. She rolled her eyes. "I even swayed my hips in front of him, and then he asked me out. I've never done this kind of thing before in my life."

"Maybe it's time you did. You poked the bear. What hot-blooded male can resist the occasional poke?" He winked and gestured her through the door. "Besides, what's the problem? You're single, and I'm a.s.suming he is too, or you wouldn't have laid the hip-swaying move on him. Did you say yes?"

"I didn't really have the chance to say yes or no. You walked into the living room in the middle of the discussion." She locked the deadbolt behind them, and they walked to his car. "It's complicated. He's already told me he doesn't get involved. Ever. He's twenty-nine, and he's never been in a serious relations.h.i.+p."

"He told you that, huh? Hmm, there are two ways to look at this situation."

He opened the car door for her. Haley slid into the pa.s.senger seat and waited for him to climb in behind the wheel. "So, tell me."

"All it takes is the right person to change someone's mind about getting seriously involved. Most of the time, it's not even a conscious choice. We fall into involvement before we realize what's happening, whether we want to or not. That's scenario number one."

"Yeah, I doubt I'm the one who will change Sam's mind, and I don't think I want to become involved with him either, which is why I feel guilty about sashaying in front of him the way I did." No way did she want to join Sam's long line of lovers past and present-not even lovers-more like brief encounters of the s.e.xual kind. Her heart would not take that well at all. "What's the second way to look at this?"

"The attraction the two of you share is palpable. If he isn't interested in a relations.h.i.+p, and neither are you, then he's safe. Have some fun. Spread those s.e.xy wings." Brent grinned at her. "You could do a lot worse as far as rebound guys go. The man is steamy."

Haley grinned back. "I know, right? You should come over some time when he's working. Whew." She fanned herself with her clutch. "You have no idea. All those muscles flexing, and that tangled mess of thick blond hair . . . The tool belt. You should see Sam in his tool belt."

Brent laughed and she joined him, until that niggle of uncertainty rea.s.serted itself. "I'm not a terrible person, am I? I did tease him. A little." She had poked the bear, but the bear had been the one who had called her, not the other way around. Come to think of it, why had he called on a Friday night? Surely he had more than one drill, or he could borrow one from his brother. Wait a minute. She knew he had a spare, because he'd loaned it to her while they were working together to install her medicine cabinet.

Her breath caught. Sam didn't need the drill. He'd left it at her house on purpose, so he could check up on her. Stunned, she leaned back against the expensive leather seat of Brent's Mercedes. He'd also shown up early to pry into her personal life that one night. And, he'd asked her out. Kind of. It had been more like he'd issued a challenge, and judging by the vulnerability she'd glimpsed, he obviously believed being turned down had been a foregone conclusion. A defense mechanism? She didn't know what to make of Sam Haney anymore.

After what she'd heard about his responses on the Loaded Question radio show, she'd expected him to be shallow and narcissistic. He wasn't either of those things. Instead, he was complex, endearing, considerate and tender. She ran a finger over the spot where the splinter had lodged itself in her palm. So far, everything she'd believed about him had been wrong.

Brent patted her hand. "You're not a terrible person, Haley."

"Huh?" Startled out of her jumbled thoughts, she had to scramble to remember what she'd asked. "Oh. Thanks." She cast around for something to say to change the subject. "I hope the food at this party is better than last year's."

"Me too. I've heard good things about this place, though."

Haley nodded, and Brent went on about different restaurants in Minneapolis he'd tried, while she only half listened. Sam the handyman surprised her at every turn. He was way more complicated than she'd given him credit for, and she was way too drawn to him. She didn't know if that was a good thing, or a very, very dangerous thing. He'd asked her to spend time in his world in order to prove to her that he was date worthy. Could she get to know him better and have her heart remain unscathed?

To dare or not to dare? Either way, deciding would rob her of sleep and occupy her every waking moment. She bit her lip. How would that be any different? Sam seemed to pop into her head all the time anyway. Her heart had already been scathed.

Sam had driven away from Haley's with no particular direction in mind. His lame plan hadn't turned out at all like he'd hoped, that's for sure. He'd intended to drop by for his drill, the drill he'd left there on purpose, and find Haley home alone on a Friday night. Then, being the great guy he was, he would've suggested they hang out together. They'd go somewhere, have a beer, play some pool or darts-not a date, just hanging out. Like friends.

When was the last time he'd allowed a new friend into his life?

His jaw clenched so hard, it ached. He should've backtracked the minute she'd told him she was going out, but curiosity had gotten the better of him. He'd always thought of her as cute, but in that dress and all done up like she was? She was the prettiest woman he'd ever clapped eyes on-not to mention s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.

Then, just as he and Haley had been discussing spending time together, Mr. Expensive Suit walked in. d.a.m.n. He scowled and gripped the steering wheel of his SUV, still in the grip of something that felt an awful lot like jealousy. Which was ridiculous, because he never got jealous or possessive. Both emotions had everything to do with relations.h.i.+ps, and relations.h.i.+ps weren't something he did. Ever. He just wanted . . . What? When it came to Haley, he couldn't quite name what he wanted. If only she hadn't made that crack about him needing to offer s.e.x on the side to get jobs.

Haley's date had been the metros.e.xual type, and the guy drove a Mercedes. While he-Sam checked himself in the rearview mirror-hadn't even bothered to have his hair cut in six months. At least his jeans weren't faded or torn tonight, and he'd chosen a nice sweater to wear. He stopped at a red light and knocked his head against the top of his steering wheel.

What the h.e.l.l had he been thinking? That he wanted to see her and maybe kiss her again? And once he had seen her, kissing took a backseat to wanting to peel that s.e.xy dress off her a few inches at a time, tasting every luscious bit of her bare skin along the way. He'd bet his paycheck she wore a lacy black bra and matching panties underneath. He groaned.

Sam s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably in his seat. The light had gone green, and the driver behind him honked. Sam stepped on the gas and then pulled into the parking lot of a mini-mart. He grabbed his phone, hitting his brother's speed dial number.

"Yeah?" Wyatt said, sounding distracted.

"You doing anything tonight?"

"Right now I'm working on the graphics for a new comic book idea I'm developing. You?"

At least Wyatt had a hobby, something he was pa.s.sionate about. His comic books were really good, too. One of these days, his brother would find a publisher, and his work would go viral. "Not a thing. You feel like meeting me for a game of pool and a few beers?"

"Sure. Give me an hour."

"I can do that. I'll call Josey and see if she wants to join us. Mad Jack's or Casper's?"

"Casper's. It's easier to get a pool table there. See you at eight thirty."

"See you." Sam hit Josey's speed dial number. She didn't answer, so he left her a message. Either she'd show up or she wouldn't. Somewhat relieved, he headed to Casper's, figuring he'd get something to eat while waiting for Wyatt and Jo.

Sam strolled through the busy bar and grill to the back room and put his name down on the waiting list for a billiards table. Then he moved to the bar and found an empty stool. Once he'd ordered food and a beer, he settled in to wait. The seat next to him emptied, and he draped his jacket over the back to save it for Wyatt.

"Say, you look like you could use some company." A nice-looking woman came to stand beside him. "Mind if I join you?" She leaned closer, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s touched his arm. He jerked it away from any possibility of further contact.

"Uh . . ." Again he felt nothing but annoyance. He hadn't made eye contact with her, or smiled at her across the room. He'd been eating his meal and minding his own business. That's all.

"I saw you put your name down for a pool table. We could play a few games, have a few beers and see where it leads," she said, her tone seductive.

"Look, I appreciate the offer, but I'm waiting for someone." He placed his hand on the back of the barstool next to him so she wouldn't sit in it. "And here she is." He nodded toward the door and waved. Nothing but relief surged through him at the sight of Josey walking through the door. The woman gave Josey the once-over, huffed and moved off. Jo made her way through the tables and joined him at the bar.

"Sorry I missed your call. I had my hands full."

He took his jacket from the empty stool. "No problem. I'm glad you made it."

"Did I scare off the pretty lady hitting on you?"

"Yes." He sighed. "And thank you." This had been the second time this week he'd rejected advances. Stress, he reminded himself, but he couldn't deny the truth. He'd felt no interest in either of the women making pa.s.ses at him. None.

She laughed. "You're thanking me? That's a first."

Frowning, Sam chose not to respond. He nodded toward the door. "There's Wyatt."

"Hey, you two." Wyatt dragged an empty barstool from a high-top table and positioned it next to Josey. He signaled the bartender. "How long before we get a billiards table?"

"We're up next." Sam pushed his empty plate away. How many weekend nights had he spent with his brother and sister? "Do you think it's weird that we're all in our twenties, and yet none of us are dating?"

"Speak for yourself," Josey said. "I date."

"You do?" Sam gaped. "How come we never hear about it or meet any of your dates?"

Josey swiveled around on her stool, beer in hand, and leaned against the bar. "Because they don't last long. That's why."

"Why not, Jo?" Wyatt asked. "Even though you're my sister, I can tell you're kind of pretty, and you're easy enough to get along with." He grinned. "Most of the time, anyway."

Frowning, she shook her head. "Once a guy I'm interested in finds out what I do for a living, I get put into a box labeled possibly a lesbian. When I finally convince him I'm straight, and we go out a few times, the insecurities creep in and cause problems."

Sam studied her for a moment. Josey had always possessed a boldness and self-confidence he admired. "I've never seen you as insecure."

"Not my insecurities." Josey shot him a wry look. "It's tough to find a man who can handle the fact that I know more about tools than he does, or that I'm way better at fixing things-including his car." She lifted her arm and flexed her biceps. "Or that I might be as strong, or in some cases, stronger." She sighed again. "Still, I keep trying, which is more than can be said about you two knuckleheads. I want a husband and a family."

That stung. He didn't need to be married or have a family to be happy. His life was exactly how he wanted it to be. He frowned. Somehow, he no longer felt as convinced by his convictions as he once had been. "Wyatt, you should get out there and find someone." Sam surveyed the busy bar. "Your burn scars bother you far more than they bother anybody else. There are a couple of nice-looking women over there." He gestured toward two blondes in the booth three away from the front door. "You could go over there right now and say hi, see if they want to join us for a game of pool."

"I don't think so." His brother's face turned red, and he tucked his head deeper into the hood of his sweats.h.i.+rt. "Why are you focusing on me? What about you? Your scars don't even show."

My scars? He blinked a few times. After his mom and dad had died, he'd closed up shop as far as his heart went, sure, but . . . His chest tightened. Sam swallowed the rising panic, the hurt and confusion that had never completely left him since that day. Or the guilt.

"Why don't you get out there and date, Sam?" Wyatt glared. "Quit s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g total strangers. Find a nice girl and settle down. You're the oldest. You first. How about giving commitment and monogamy a try for a change?"

"Ouch." Sam glared back.

"Well this evening certainly has taken an unhappy turn." Josey laughed. "I thought this was the season to be jolly."

The group at one of the billiard tables put their cues away and gathered their things. Sam heaved a sigh of relief. "Sorry I brought up the subject of dating. Let's forget it. We're up." He nodded toward the back of the bar and grill. "Let's go shoot some pool."

"Good idea," Wyatt said, grabbing his beer from the bar and hopping off his stool.

"Do you want to play Cut Throat, or would you two like to take turns seeing who can't beat me at 8 Ball?" Sam smirked, eager to get things back to the way they'd been before he'd attempted to communicate about anything deeper than burgers, beer and billiards. He should've known better.

"Cut Throat." Josey slipped off her bar stool. "Don't count on winning."

"Back at you." Sam grinned. The three of them headed toward the rear of Casper's and set up the table for Cut Throat. Find a nice girl and settle down. That's exactly what Grandpa Joe had said. He cringed at the thought. Commit? Him? No thank you.

Seeing Haley, all dressed up and s.e.xy as h.e.l.l, had thrown him. That's all. He wanted her, all right. But . . . did he want to date her? He almost tripped over his own feet at the thought. Hadn't he asked her out, challenged her to spend time in his world? What about the lame plan he'd concocted just to see her tonight? He got a little light-headed. The room began to spin, and he couldn't draw enough air into his lungs. "It's stuffy in here," he griped, grabbing a pool cue from the rack.

Haley Cooper had him messed up, and that was a fact. He didn't like the way she made him feel one bit. All confused, conflicted . . . jealous. Her date tonight, would that lawyer lay his hands on her, hold her in his arms and kiss her? Pressure banded his chest, and he put down his cue. "I gotta get some air. I'll be back in a few."

"Are you coming down with something?" Josey put her hand on his forehead, like his mom used to do. "Is your throat sore, or-"

"No." He jerked away. "I just need air." He strode toward the back door, flung it open and walked out. A few hardy, coatless smokers stood around, and the smell of cigarette smoke filled his nostrils. Sam moved out of their range and hauled in a lungful of cold air, and then another.

He'd been with some gorgeous women, and they'd had no effect whatsoever on his heart. How had one pet.i.te, uptight paralegal managed to get under his skin the way Haley had? He growled, closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He was in serious trouble.

Chapter Eight.

Haley poured herself a cup of coffee and meandered into her living room. Was it weird that she'd miss working with Sam today? Definitely. Especially since she'd just seen him last night when he'd stopped by for his not-so-needed drill. Heat filled her face as she remembered how she'd behaved. What had gotten into her?

Oh, she'd known what she'd been after all right-she'd wanted to feel desirable, to be looked at the way Sam had looked at her. Probably a good thing he and his brother weren't coming today. She needed the weekend to get her head back on straight.

Speaking of being on her own, now would be a good time to get Michael's contact information. She set her mug on the coffee table, right next to her phone, and checked the time. Virginia and Greg would be up by now. Haley took a seat and ran her palms over her flannel-clad knees. She could do this. She had to, because it was way past time to stamp paid on that box of emotional c.r.a.p labeled ex-fiance. She took a deep breath, picked up the phone and punched in their number.

Virginia answered, and Haley's mouth went dry. "Hey, Ginny. This is Haley Cooper. How are you?"

"My, it's good to hear from you, Haley," Virginia said. "Greg and I are fine, just fine. How are you? How's your family?"

"We're all doing well, thanks." She bit her lip, unsure how to proceed. "The reason I'm calling is-" She tried to catch her breath. "-I was hoping you could give me a way to contact Michael."

"Oh, Haley. We feel so bad about what happened. Greg and I are so very sorry things turned out as they did. We both feel terrible that we didn't reach out to you after Michael left. We-"

"It's OK, Ginny." At the time, she couldn't have handled their sympathy anyway. Affection for Michael's parents overcame her, along with a flood of good memories. The tension she'd been holding eased. "What happened wasn't your fault, or Greg's." She cleared her throat. "Speaking of Michael, is he still in Indonesia?"

"Yes. He's teaching English at a private school." Virginia paused for a moment. "He hasn't been home since . . . Well, since the abrupt way he left. Michael has international phone service. Would you like his number?"

"What about e-mail? Does he have an e-mail address?" No way did she want to talk to the man who'd jilted her. She could deal with writing him a letter, but hearing his voice? Did she really want to listen to him refuse to give her the answers she so desperately needed? No thanks.

"He does. Hold on a moment, and I'll get it for you."

Haley waited; a sense of calm and rightness settled over her. She should have done this months ago.

"Do you have a pen and paper, Haley?"

"I do." She picked up a pen and an old envelope sitting on the table. "Go ahead." Virginia gave her the e-mail address and his phone number, and they chatted for a while before ending the call. Haley went to her second bedroom and sat down at her desk. She stared at the dark screen of her computer. How should she ask her ex what had been running through his mind the weeks before he'd bolted? Keep it light, nonconfrontational. She touched a key, and her computer sprang to life. Words began to form in her mind and she opened her e-mail. She began to write, tweaked it in the places where the anger leaked out, and finally she was satisfied.

Hey Michael, I hear you're teaching English at a private school these days. I hope that's going well for you. I'm writing because I believe you owe me an explanation for the way things ended between us. I deserve to know, as I'm sure you would agree. I'm not angry anymore, just puzzled. If for no other reason than the close friends.h.i.+p we once shared, I'm hoping you'll respond. I want to put the entire experience behind me, and I can't without knowing what happened. Thanks.

~Haley Her finger hovered over the Send b.u.t.ton. She was doing the right thing, wasn't she? In the days after Michael left, she'd racked her brain, going over every moment they'd spent together, looking for clues. Had she said or done something to drive him away, or had he simply fallen out of love with her?

Haley leaned back in her chair. Sam had defended her. He'd called Michael a selfish jerk. Smiling, she recalled the tender way he'd taken care of her splinter, the way he'd taken such pains to instruct her on how to be a carpenter. Her heart fluttered as she thought about the unexpected, mind-altering kiss they'd shared. He really was a sweet guy.

Sam had given her the impetus to finally reach out to Michael for closure. She needed to thank him, and she would. The more she thought about how Sam had invited her to spend time in his world, the more curious she became. What was he like with his family and friends? How did he spend his time away from work? Plus, she hadn't yet asked him why he never spoke about his parents.

Her kitchen counter and cabinets would be delivered this coming week. Her new kitchen floor would be installed Monday evening. She could hardly wait. To see Sam? Her house would be finished soon. No more working side by side with the hottest handyman in the state. A sinking feeling lodged itself in the pit of her stomach. She'd miss him.

Her phone rang. Sighing, Haley hit the Send icon on her e-mail and hurried to the living room where she'd left her cell. "Hi, Mom. What's up?"

"Hi, sweetie. Nanci and I are going to the Albertville Outlet Mall to do some Christmas shopping, and we were hoping you'd join us."

"I'd love to. I need to shop." Wow. Christmas was a few weeks away. Usually, she had gifts purchased and wrapped by now. She hadn't even put out any of her holiday decorations yet.

"Great. We'll pick you up around ten thirty. That way we can take a look at what's been done to your house."

"Sounds great. See you then." A wave of protectiveness came out of nowhere, hitting her squarely in the heart. The work she'd done with Sam suddenly seemed intimate. She didn't want to share the changes they'd made to her house with anyone quite yet, especially not with the two women who'd set her up for a one-night stand with her handyman. My handyman?