“What did she say?”
“She said she won’t be back for about a week; her friend was really banged up and needs her. She left her number for you to call her.”
“Thanks, sugar. You’re a good girl.”
“No problem. Kip and I did the dishes and made a sandwich for you,” she added. My two miracle workers. They could be such little buttheads, but when I needed them, they came through. “What are we going to do about the window tonight? The living room’s still full of glass.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t want to leave the house alone, but I’m not letting you two stay here until we get it fixed. I’m going to call Harlow and see if she’ll keep you overnight. I’ll sleep here and keep watch.”
Miranda squirmed, obviously uncomfortable. “Mom, you could get hurt.” Kip chimed in, echoing her sentiments. I tried to reassure them, but they were both adamant about me not staying alone. Defeated, I slumped back onto the swing and gave Joe a pleading look. If he took my side, they might back off.
Straddling the porch wall, he rested his head against one of the columns. Jeez, the guy was gorgeous. Viking blood, for sure. I took a deep breath and brought my focus back to where it belonged as he offered a compromise. “What if you kids stay over at Harlow’s and I stay here with your mother and make sure she comes to no harm? That way everybody will be happy. We can rig up a tarp across the window until tomorrow.”
Everybody happy indeed! His eyes danced with a light that no amount of scolding was going to vanquish. Miranda and Kip agreed and raced down the foyer hall, into the kitchen to phone Harlow. I gave Joe a scathing look, but he just grinned. “You’re staying here with me? My dear, you know how Andrew would feel about that. Regardless of who sleeps where, he’s going to be pissed.”
“I also know that you’d be in danger here by yourself, and I don’t see Andrew anywhere around to help out. So no protests, Ms. O’Brien. I’m younger than you and stronger than you and I can run a whole lot faster.”
He winked at me and, infuriated but laughing, I accepted his offer. The kids would feel better, I’d be safer, and at least I wouldn’t sit up all night imaging noises and intruders in the house. I repressed a snort. Actually, I probably would be imagining things. Just not scary monsters and drunken rednecks. Maybe my cabana boy could pop back in my dreams and give me a rubdown to take the knots out of my shoulders, only I had the feeling that if he did, Pedro would be wearing a uniform and fire helmet this time instead of a loincloth.
“I emptied the glass into a box that I found near your back door, then set it near the garbage can. I didn’t think you’d want it loose in the can.” Oliver edged his way around the house and back up on the porch, looking from Joe to me, back to Joe again.
I jumped; I’d almost forgotten he was around. “Thanks, Oliver. I owe you one. You take after your aunt, all right.” He was staring pointedly at Joe and, still blushing, I tripped over my words as I introduced them.
Oliver eyed Joe. “You’re the playwright, correct?”
Embarrassed, I shook my head. Ida must have filled him in on local news. “Joe’s captain of the medic rescue unit. You’re thinking of Andrew. He’s out of town; hopefully striking a deal in Hollywood right now.”
Joe shook Oliver’s hand, while speculating on how hard it would be to replace the window. “If you can buy the glass, I can probably do the work. I’m not too shabby with a hammer and nails,” he said, understating his talent. I’d seen the results of his handiwork.
“I can help if you like,” Oliver offered. I protested that he was doing too much, but he laughed me off. “Please, let me help. I’ve spent the past three years sitting around doing nothing; I like being active.”
We measured the window; tomorrow Joe would order the new pane. I would turn the reins of the shop over to Cinnamon and wait at home for the glass to be delivered. I pressed some cookies on Oliver before he left. As I retreated to the kitchen to make tea and eat my sandwich something seemed out of place. I looked around, but everything looked in order. Probably just nerves. After all, somebody had tossed a brick through my window; that was bound to shake me up.
Joe drove the kids over to Harlow’s while I cleaned the glass up off the living room floor, managing to inflict several nasty cuts on my fingers as I picked up the bigger shards, then vacuumed sliver after sliver off the back of the sofa and the floor. Thank heavens I hadn’t chosen a shag carpet, or I’d never have gotten the mess up. As it was, we were going to have to watch our step for a while.
After Joe returned, we fitted a tarp across the window and sat around in the growing darkness, playing games and watching low-budget horror flicks on the Sci-Fi Channel. As the evening wore on, our conversation took a detour.
Joe fiddled with the Scrabble tiles as we cleared up from our game. “So tell me about your ex-husband, Em. What did he do to make you run?”
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” I settled in with my popcorn.
“Life’s too short. If I want to know something, I ask.”
Why did I take the kids and run? “Too many reasons to count, the last being that my daughter arrived home from school early one day just in time to catch Roy screwing his mistress in her bed. Poor kid is still traumatized over it.”
He whistled and leaned back on the sofa, stretching out his legs. “Too bad you don’t have a big brother who could have whipped his ass for you. Sounds like that boy needs a lesson in manners.”
“Yeah, well, he seemed to think that since he paid for the house, he had free license. He pushed me around a lot; beat me up once or twice. Nothing that would show, he was careful to keep up appearances. He never hit the kids, though. I would have killed him if he did.”
Joe let out a loud sigh. “Too much of that going around. Well, it looks like you managed to make your way just fine.”
I gave him a satisfied smile. “Yeah. We do fine; well, until recently, that is. The kids are happy, I’m happy, we have a home and pets and my shop is popular. I’m not complaining, even with the way this last week’s gone. Cycles come and go; everybody has their off times.”
“Emerald, do you realize how pretty you are when you smile like that?” He leaned toward me, and goose bumps raced up my arms.
I stared at him, breathless. “Joe—I…”
He reached out and ran his fingers along my cheek. “Don’t say it. I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. I just want you to know how I feel. I want you to remember that I’m here, because my guess is one day you’re going to turn around, and Andrew’s going to have flown the coop.”
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His fingers didn’t produce the sharp sparks I was used to with Andrew, but a gentle rolling wave of desire that went on and on. I fought for self-control, reminding myself that Andrew was my boyfriend and, regardless of our difficulties, I wasn’t about to hurt him. A thin layer of perspiration beaded up on my lip. “Joe—” I warned as I slid out of the way when he leaned in for a kiss. “I can’t. You wouldn’t respect me if I cheated on Andrew. I know you too well. And I’ve got too much self-respect to do to him what my ex-husband did to me.”
He pulled back. After a moment, he sighed. “Sometimes I hate it that you’re so damned wonderful. I won’t pressure you, but I won’t promise to stop thinking about you, either.” With a grin, he arched his eyebrows then wiggled them in a playful leer.
Relieved that we’d passed the test but confused because everything between us felt so right, I decided that activity was my best defense against getting sucked into the feeling again. “Twerp. I’ve got to feed the cats. I’ll get your blankets in a few minutes.”
“Need help?” He followed me into the kitchen.
I scowled. “Man, you are askin’ for it! Now, if you really want to help, you can empty the garbage for me.”
He snorted, then hoisted the bag out of the trash can. “As I said, I’m hanging around. It’s only a m
atter of time until you change your mind and realize that I’m the right guy for you.” With a final wink, he took off out to the driveway.
In the safety of my kitchen, I leaned against the counter and fought back the desire to rip off my clothes and play doctor with Joe the Medic. My pulse was racing, and if he took my temperature now, I’d have a fever so hot you could light matches on it.
I forced myself to focus and grabbed the cat food, filling four dishes and carrying them to the guest room on a tray. They could stay in there all night; otherwise they’d raise havoc trying to play with the tarp because they were cats, and that’s what cats do. On the way back into the living room, I made a quick detour to the linen closet to collect a quilt, sheets, and another pillow, then tossed them on the sofa.
“There you go, you can make up your bed. Night, Joe. Sweet dreams.”
He rested his hand on my arm. “Wait up. I didn’t get my good night kiss.”
Laughing, I tried to break away. “And did I say you were getting one? Sleep well, fireman. The tarp should protect you from bugs and beasties and things that go bump in the night.”
With a gentle hand, he lifted my chin so that I was staring into his eyes. “Good night, Emerald. Please don’t fret, I’ll keep watch down here.” He slowly reached down and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. My knees melted, and I wanted nothing more than to slide into his arms. His eyes were sparkling. “Pleasant dreams.”
Pleasant dreams? I doubted that my dreams would be restful, and I wasn’t surprised when sleep ran me a merry chase until the late hours of the night.
THE PHONE WOKE me up; probably a good thing since my dream was starting to take an unsavory turn toward the nightmarish side of town. I blinked twice, then grabbed the receiver. “Huh?”
“Good morning to you, too.” Murray’s voice shook me fully out of the dream. “Got some news for you. The print paid off. Jimbo was holding on to that brick. I went hunting for him this morning, but no can find. He got smashed at the Brown Bear last night, got in another argument with the manager, then wandered off. When we checked out his… I guess you could call it a house—the man lives in a shack out near Miner’s Lake—he wasn’t there. I saw some loose bricks in the yard, though, and I think they match the one that came through your window last night.”
I took a deep breath. “And he’s still on the street?”
“Yeah. I also checked on his alibi for where he was Sunday night, and it didn’t jibe. We suspect he might be the one who vandalized your shop, Em. We don’t have any proof, but we do know he holds grudges.”
Grateful that we had at least one answer, I said, “Okay. So, what are you going to do about him? He’s obviously mad at me. I don’t think the kids and I are safe while he’s still wandering around free.”
“We’re trying to find him, Em. When we do, he’ll be charged with destruction of property. I’ve asked for a search warrant to go through his house; I’ve got probable cause now, and I’m thinking that maybe we can find evidence regarding your shop.” She was brisk, almost brusque, but I could hear the underlying weariness in her voice.
“Job’s getting to you, isn’t it? I can hear it in your voice.” I wanted to help, to be able to reach out with a magic wand, tap her on the forehead, and make everything all better. “Murray, have you thought about what I said before? About talking to Tad Bonner?”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, and I’m not going to go whining to him, no matter how nice he is. You just don’t get it, Em. Anyway, did you sleep okay?”
Oops, touchy. I backed off. “Uh, yeah. Joe was here. He slept downstairs.” She snorted. “Nothing happened,” I protested.
“Too bad. He’s a nice guy. I like him.” I could hear papers rustle, and then she was back to being all business. “I’ll call you if we have any new information. Meanwhile, stay alert. I checked on the vehicles Jimbo has registered at the DMV, and sure enough, one of them just happens to be a black chopper with red detail.”
I signed off and crawled out of bed, ducking into the shower for a brief rinse before I clambered into a pair of culottes and a gauze top. As I slipped on my huaraches, I thought about Jimbo. So he’d decided to make good on his threat. Well, at least I knew who to look out for. When I jogged down the stairs, Joe was talking on his cell phone. He flipped it shut after a moment and eyed me with a speculative gaze. “Headed south of the border, señorita?”
I flicked his head with two fingers and pointed him toward the kitchen. “Haul ass in there, and I’ll make us something to eat.”
As I broke eggs into a bowl and beat them lightly for an omelet, he told me that he’d called Eyrland’s Glass Works. “Apparently you’re such a good customer now that you rate a ten percent discount. Keep smashing windows, and pretty soon, you’ll get one free.”
“Gee, thanks for the suggestion. Brilliant, dearheart, brilliant.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you agree; I am brilliant.”
He looked so smug that I threw a dish towel at him. “Since you’re so smart, figure out how to wash and set the table while I make breakfast.”
Laughing, he wiped off the oak tabletop and set it with place mats and napkins. “They’re delivering the glass sometime this morning, so after breakfast, I’ll hit Home Depot for the installation hardware. Want to come?”
“Nah. I’ve got to pick up the kids and drop them off at school. And somebody has to be here for the delivery truck.” I handed him a plate of toast and eggs. As we ate, I filled him in on what Murray had told me about Jimbo.
He wiped up the last of his egg and licked his fingers. “Sounds like a troublemaker to me. If they can catch him, they’ll probably offer him a plea bargain if he cops to vandalizing your store, too.” He tossed on his jacket and hit the road.
As I was washing the dishes, the phone rang again. The kids were up and ready for school. Since Harlow was still wheelchair-bound, she couldn’t drive. As I told them I’d be out to pick them up as soon as I could, I realized that I couldn’t leave the house alone. I hated to impose on my neighbors, but I raced across the street to Horvald’s. He was out. I wondered briefly if there might be a Mrs. Ledbetter, but nobody answered the door.
Who else could I get to look after the house while I was over at Harlow’s? Normally, I’d ask Ida. I glanced down at the comfortable house on the corner. Oliver? I didn’t like the thought, but I had no other choice. I darted down the street and rang the doorbell. Nobody answered, but the car Ida had rented for Oliver before she left was in the driveway, so I assumed that he was home. Maybe he was working in the basement. I hesitantly tried the door; it was unlocked. Music streamed in waves from the kitchen. Something classical, but I didn’t recognize it. The house smelled of Lysol and Lemon Pledge.
“Oliver?” I called out, tentative, not wanting to interrupt, but nobody answered. I was about to leave when the state of the living room caught my attention. Spotless. Completely spotless. No dust, no clutter, no jumble anywhere; the plants were shining, and every leaf was clean. The pictures were level-straight, and all the windows were polished and gleaming. Ida was a champion housekeeper, but even she’d be impressed.
Ida! I’d forgotten to call her back. Oh well, I thought, it would have to wait until later. I bit my lip as I looked around. Maybe he was in the kitchen? If I peeked, it wouldn’t really be snooping since I needed to ask him a favor. I cautiously pushed open the swinging doors and poked my head through. “Oliver?” No answer. I took another step forward, then another. Nobody here, either, but once again, the room was a marvel. The counters were clean, everything in its place with no dirty dishes in sight. I ran my finger along the porcelain sink. No grease, no mess. Nope. Downright unnatural.
“Looking for something?”
“Oh!” I whirled around to find myself staring into Oliver’s curiously cool eyes. His expression was unreadable; he was wearing work gloves and carrying a hammer. “I rang the bell, and you didn’t answer. I came over to ask a favor.�
�� So maybe it hadn’t been such a bright idea to come in uninvited. Ida and I had the typical knock-and-enter arrangement common to small towns, but this was Oliver, and while she was gone, this was his house.
“I was in the basement. What can I do for you?”
The room suddenly felt too small, the door too far away. I edged toward it, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Stress, I thought, as I tugged on my collar. I was just feeling the effects of all the stress I’d been under lately. “I need to pick up the kids and drop them off at school, but Joe is out, and the glass company will be delivering the new pane sometime today. Would you mind staying at my place until I get back? To keep away any intruders and maybe sign for the glass if it arrives early?”
He nodded; the eager beaver look was back. “No problem; I can help Joe install it. Can you wait ten minutes? I should finish up the last of this one project.” As he headed back to the basement, I took off for home.
While I waited for him to arrive, I stood in front of the étagère, looking at the dragon. It occurred to me that not only was Harl a patron of the arts, but in her new research position, she probably had access to some obscure sources for historical information that I couldn’t access. I tucked the statue in my purse, hoping that she might be able to give me some ideas on how to go about tracking down Daniel’s relatives. I shrugged on a light jacket as Oliver knocked on the door.
“I’ll be back in about an hour. Thanks so much,” I said as I clambered into the Cherokee and pulled out of the drive.
The drive out to Harlow’s was long and winding, and I seldom took the shortcut since she’d been forced off the road a few days before Christmas, but today I was in a hurry. Yep, the ravine was filled with brambles and bad memories. Of course, one good memory, too. I’d met Joe that night.
Joe. What to do about him? I couldn’t ignore the fact that I got along much better with him than with Andrew. As much as I cared about Andrew, I always felt like we were one step away from a disagreement. Joe… Joe was easy. Comfortable. But would the age difference create problems?
Legend of the Jade Dragon Page 10