Molly O'Keefe - Mr. Predictable

“I’m J. T. Prescott,” he murmured as he resituated the pile of laundry, briefcase and laptop in both arms.

“Here, let me help you with that stuff,” she volunteered.

Before J.T. could accept or reject her offer, Moriah scooped up his precious possessions.

A most peculiar sensation assailed him when Moriah confiscated his laptop and briefcase. It was as if she had suddenly amputated extensions of his hands. She juggled the objects as if they were insignificant pieces of junk and that didn’t set well with J.T. “Hey, be careful with that stuff,” he cautioned as she strode quickly around the side of her SUV. “Those happen to be my stock-in-trade—” His voice fizzled into a groan when she unceremoniously dumped both prized possessions on the back seat.

Moriah flashed him another dazzling smile that made her blue eyes sparkle like polished jewels. The thick ropelike braid of blond hair slithered over her shoulder as she plunked behind the steering wheel.

When she motioned for him to join her, he resigned himself to accepting the young woman’s assistance. With a sigh, J.T. climbed into the brightly colored vehicle. He barely had time to shut the door before Moriah stamped on the accelerator and whizzed off. Jeez, he’d just climbed onboard with the female version of Evel Knievel, he mused as he hurriedly fastened his seat belt.

J.T. glanced over to appraise Moriah’s fire-engine-red fingernails, red hoop earrings and jangling red-white-and-blue bracelets. He also noticed there wasn’t a wedding ring on her finger, not that he cared one way or another, of course.

Who the hell dressed this woman? Conservative and conventional were obviously foreign concepts to her. He decided loud clothes were an essential warning that signaled the arrival of this female cyclone. She appeared to be the kind of individual who walked right in and took over. For sure and certain, she bustled J.T. off in whirlwind fashion!

“Would you mind slowing down?” J.T. requested as they zipped down the street. “I’d like to live to see my thirty-sixth birthday, if you don’t mind.”

“You don’t find speed exhilarating? You don’t like the feel of the wind in your hair?” she asked, still smiling radiantly.

Her perpetual smile was really beginning to bug him. She was beginning to bug him. She was too cheerful, too bouncy, too vibrant, too feminine, too reckless, too…everything! Plus, the alluring scent of her perfume was clogging his senses and the narrow confines of the Jeep didn’t allow enough room for him to avoid breathing her in.

“Hey!” J.T. erupted as he glanced out the side window. “You buzzed right by the service station!”

She turned that high-voltage smile on him again. “I did it on purpose.”

J.T. frowned warily as Moriah increased speed and sailed onto the ramp that merged with the interstate highway. “What the hell is going on here, lady?” he demanded to know that very second.

She grinned impishly. “The name is Moriah, remember?”

“Yeah, whatever.” J.T. gnashed his teeth and braced himself when she switched over to the fast lane of rush hour traffic. “Am I being kidnapped? I should warn you that I’m not carrying much cash. I never carry much cash. Demanding a ransom for my return is a complete waste of time.”

“You aren’t being kidnapped. You’re being escorted to Triple R,” she said, as if that explained everything.

It didn’t. Not to J.T.’s satisfaction. “What the hell is Triple R?” he demanded gruffly.

“Randell’s Resort Ranch.”

“Ranch? You work at a ranch and you dress like that?” he asked, then smirked.

One delicate blond brow arched as she spared him a quick glance. “You don’t like my clothes?”

“Lady, I’m not sure I even like you, especially after you kidnapped me, so don’t get me started on your clothes!”

She chuckled at the insult, then crossed two lanes of heavy traffic to roar down the off ramp. “I was told to expect this kind of reaction from you, Jake.”

“The name is J.T.,” he said through gritted teeth.

“J.T. sounds too stuffy. I prefer to call you Jake, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind. And who the hell told you to kidnap me? My employees? Is that why they were grinning at me as if they were sharing some sort of conspiracy? They’ve been whining that I’ve been working them too hard lately. I should’ve known something was going on—”

“It was your sisters,” she interrupted as she swerved onto a two-lane road and headed north to only God, and this personification of the American flag, knew where!

“Kim and Lisa are responsible for this abduction?” he croaked in disbelief.

Moriah nodded as she set the SUV on cruise. The thick rope of braided blond hair rippled over her shoulder and curled against the swell of her full breasts. J.T. did his gentlemanly best not to dwell on her curvaceous figure and the long expanse of tanned legs.

It dawned on him that the impact of meeting Moriah—what with her flashy attire and cheery smile—served to momentarily distract a man from her very shapely, very feminine figure. But once you were enclosed in a vehicle with her, and spared her more than a casual glance, you couldn’t help but notice her striking good looks and appealing physique, despite those god-awful, bold-colored clothes. Yet, after seeing Moriah’s representation of Old Glory, you couldn’t help but wonder what she’d be wearing tomorrow.

“Kim and Lisa contacted me because I run a resort ranch that caters to businessmen who’ve forgotten how to slow their hectic pace and relax. According to your concerned sisters your life revolves around your graphic art shop. They’re giving you a two-week, all-expenses-paid vacation at my ranch.”

“What!” J.T. exploded angrily. “I don’t want or need a two-week, all-expenses-paid vacation!”

Moriah grinned at him, undaunted by his booming voice and erupting temper. “Oh, and by the way, Kim and Lisa said to tell you happy birthday.”

“Birthday?” J.T. parroted. Well, damn. Sunday was his birthday, come to think of it. He’d been so intensely focused on creating a spectacular Web site for his new client that he’d forgotten. But birthday or not, he wasn’t spending the next two weeks at some ranch in the boon-docks that was run by this all too cheery, wild-driving female.

“Stop the damn car and turn it around,” J.T. ordered brusquely. “I don’t have time for a forced vacation. I have work to do and a business to run.”

“Everything is going to be fine, Jake—”

“J.T.” he growled in correction.

“Just calm down,” she soothed him. “I’m the recreation director at the ranch and I’ve been trained in stress management. I can tell that you’re entirely too tense.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so tense if you’d slow this car down!”

Smiling in amusement—at his expense, he had no doubt—Moriah decreased her speed. “There now, Jake. Happy?”

“Not particularly,” he said, and scowled.

“I understand that you’re feeling a little testy. Stress does that to a person. After you kick back and relax for a few days you’re going to be amazed how refreshed and rejuvenated you feel.”

He glared thunderclouds on her sunny smile. “I am as relaxed as I ever intend to get!”

Her carefree laughter was getting on the one good nerve he had left. “Your voice is rising, Jake,” she pointed out calmly.

“Well, so is my temper!” he all but shouted. “I have a business to run. My employees won’t take work seriously if I’m not there to keep their noses to the grindstone. I have no intention of allowing my shop to go down the toilet.”

“But if you don’t take time to get back in touch with your inner self and break your rigid routine, you’ll be too stressed out to run your business effectively,” Moriah said reasonably. “You might find yourself snapping impatiently at your clients or employees. That certainly wouldn’t be good for business, now would it?”