Lucky Break (Lucky 3)

Lauren nodded. “I agree. I wish I could say this was purely a social invitation, but I need to talk.”

“About Jason.” Sharon’s eyes gleamed, but being Sharon, she didn’t mention the fact that she’d caught them-or that Lauren had run away.

Lauren nodded.

“Ask away,” Sharon said. “I kept you up-to-date on his big news because I figured you might hear about the steroids in the papers or on television. But since you’d moved on, I never filled you in on the little things going on with him. I didn’t want to stir up old memories that you didn’t want stirred.”

Lauren exhaled hard, then took another sip of wine. Sharon’s perceptiveness had enabled them to remain friends. The other woman had an innate sense of caring that Lauren appreciated and valued.

“Did you ever hear how he tested positive?” Lauren asked. That question had nagged at her since the start.

Sharon shook her head. “As far as I know, he’s never told anyone what happened. He’s just maintained his innocence, and frankly, I believe him.” She lifted her wine and took a long sip.

“No argument here.” Jason might be competitive and dedicated, but he was honest.

Sharon laughed as she drained her glass.

“More wine?” Lauren lifted the bottle.

Sharon nodded and Lauren topped off their glasses.

She stared into the golden liquid as she explained her problem. “He’s the only contractor available to work on this house.”

“I’m assuming from the look on your face when you talk about him, he’s still good with his hands?” Sharon rose and stretched her arms into the air, unsteady on her feet thanks to the alcohol she’d consumed too quickly. Thank God.

“Too good for me to get any real work done and that’s the problem.”

“And you want me to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” Sharon flopped back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. “It’s a good thing Richard is picking me up after his meeting because there’s no way I can drive.”

“I know what you mean.” Lauren’s head spun from the wine and her stomach swirled at the thought of hiring the one man she didn’t trust herself to be around. “And you’re right. I want you to tell me I can work side by side with him and not fall in love.”

“You can do it.” Sharon sounded like a cheerleader, obviously too buzzed to think clearly.

Which was fine. Lauren didn’t really need her friend to tell her anything. She already knew the score. Her nerves tingled at the thought of him. Her body still craved him. And her heart was already softening toward him.

Deep down, Lauren knew it didn’t matter what Sharon said. Working with Jason was a risk. A risk she had no choice but to take.

WORKING WITH HIS HANDS used to provide Jason with a means to pay for his snowboarding and Olympic dreams. After being forced to give up the sport professionally, he’d fallen back on what he knew in order to make a living. But painting and fixing things didn’t provide the creative challenge that snowboarding had, nor did it give him a goal to work toward.

Since he’d moved back here, his life had become stagnant, but Lauren’s return had given him new purpose and a new goal-winning the Perkins job. He’d even cleared his schedule in anticipation of working at Lauren’s house, but she hadn’t called.

Th

ree days and not a word, although he knew she’d been in touch with Mark and Greg, and they’d both turned her down. He was tempted to stop by the house later today and check on her, but she’d been so resistant to them working together, he thought it would go better if she came to him.

To kill time, he turned to working on his own living space. He hadn’t had a chance to put his mark on the place yet, so he’d spent the past few days priming the walls in the lower section of the loft so he could paint over the gray his uncle had chosen. The sun didn’t shine in the windows until late in the afternoon and he needed a brighter color to perk up the place.

His sisters, Ruthie and Allison, lived close to each other in New York with their husbands and kids and had opened up an interior design business together. They’d both offered their advice, suggesting navy or hunter-green walls with white trim and had sent him photos of offices in their portfolio to back up their advice. Since this was the first permanent place Jason had lived in, as opposed to hotel rooms and short-term rentals, he’d chosen stark white instead. Like snow. He’d be surrounded by proof he was no longer hiding from his past. So here he was, standing on a ladder painting his new home, and waiting for a girl to call.

A few more broad strokes of the brush and he decided to take a break.

He stepped down, but instead of the floor, his foot hit something soft. Jason jumped back as Fred the basset hound yelped, trying to make his escape. But as slow as Fred moved, Jason tripped on the dog. He lost his balance and reached for the ladder to stop his fall, causing the paint tray to topple to the floor, splattering him with white paint along the way.

He landed on his ass, beside Fred, who looked up at him with those big, sad eyes. “Yeah, I know. You’re sorry.”

Jason pushed himself to a standing position and glanced at his paint-splattered shirt. “Another one bites the dust,” he muttered, and stripped off the gray tee. He was going to have to do laundry soon or else he’d have to go shopping. Neither prospect held much appeal.

He was headed to the loft stairs so he could get a clean shirt when the doorbell rang. “Come on in,” he called, assuming his father or uncle had stopped by.