She pushed away from the door and carried the package to the couch. Dropping the box on the coffee table, she sat down and flipped the TV on, deliberately ignoring the box. “Not me, though. He’s not getting to me.”
On the TV, a husband gave his wife a new dishwasher with a bright red ribbon on it. “Gifts. Hah! If a man gave me a dishwasher, I’d stuff his lifeless body inside it and shove it off a cliff.”
Okay, maybe she needed to calm down a little.
On the other hand, how the hell could she calm down when her archnemesis was invading her space via UPS?
She glanced at the package again. It might as well have been ticking. Its very presence in the room was disturbing. Annoying. Irritating. She’d never been able to stand against an unopened box. As a kid, she’d hunted down her Christmas presents way ahead of time and opened them all before rewrapping them. She just didn’t like surprises. She wanted to know.
Like now.
The box was taunting her.
And damn it, she couldn’t stand it.
Tossing the remote, she grabbed the box and ripped the package open, cursing at the strapping tape until she managed to wrest it free. “The only reason I’m opening this,” she muttered, as if apologizing to the universe at large, “is I can’t not open it. Fine. I’m weak. Shoot me.”
When she had one end open, she tipped the box onto its side. A thick yellow and black book fell onto her lap. She took one look at the title and a spurt of fury shot through her like water from a fire hose.
She dropped the damn thing when she jumped to her feet and, wouldn’t you know it, the book landed faceup, so she could still see the title, in thick white and yellow letters.
“You bastard.” She kicked it and watched as it slid across the carpet.
Cash Hunter thought he could take something she’d told him in private and turn it into a joke? He thought it was funny? She’s drowning and he’s enjoying the show?
“You self-serving, sanctimonious tower of testosterone,” Jo grumbled as she crossed the room to pick up the blasted book. “I’ll get you for this. Seriously.”
Still scowling, she looked down at the book and thought about driving over to his place and launching the thick volume at his head. But it probably wasn’t heavy enough to make a dent. A hammer then. She’d throw a hammer.
“But not my good one,” she said, disgusted, as she dropped onto the couch. “My old one. You’re not worthy of a brand-new hammer.”
Imagining Cash flat on his back with a huge knot rising on his forehead calmed her down long enough to allow her to snatch up the book, open it, and flip through the pages quickly. Okay, maybe she should at least look at it. But she was still mad and, damn it, he was going to hear about this. Soon.
For now though, she checked the table of contents on Astronomy for Dummies.
Lucas concentrated on the road.
It was much better than thinking about the woman sitting next to him in the car. She was being too quiet. In the two months he’d known her, he’d seen Mike furious, amused, thoughtful, and, God knew, intrusive. But he’d yet to see her so damn silent.
Unsettling.
But then, that kiss had been pretty damn unsettling, too. His body stirred, but he ruthlessly quashed the hot ball of lust bouncing around inside him. Wasn’t easy, but the last thing he needed was to let Mike even further into his life. Although at the moment, all he could think about was laying her down on the big bed they’d just picked out and—
Conversation.
Talking would keep him too busy to think about what might have happened if they hadn’t been in a damn showroom full of unctuous salesmen. Hell, even having her irritate him was better than this quiet that gave his mind too much room to wander.
He had to say something—anything. Otherwise, he’d be admitting that the kiss had taken on a life of its own in his mind.
“So.”
She jumped, startled, and looked at him as if she’d forgotten he was there. Pushing her hair back out of her eyes, she held it down at her nape with one hand and snarled, “What?”
Lucas ignored her battle attitude—in fact, he was grateful for it. An angry Mike he knew how to deal with. “You never said. Earlier. When you were talking to your friend. You never said why you were so anxious to get away.”
“Not anxious,” she argued. “Ready.”
“Fine. Ready. Why?”
She blew out a breath and shifted her gaze past him to stare at the ocean, stretching out to the horizon. He spared a quick look, too, and saw the wide, golden path lying across the dark blue surface of the water as the sun slowly slipped from the sky.
“No biggie, really,” she said after a long minute or two. “It’s just—Carla’s sister-in-law Tasha just had a baby girl, her other sister-in-law Beth had a boy a couple months ago, now Carla’s pregnant. Hell, even Abbey’s pregnant again.”
Confusion reigned, but then he’d started this conversation. “So?”
“So, nothing. It was just hormone overload, okay?” She turned and fixed her gaze on the road in front of them. “I’m tired of hearing about babies. It’s like everyone in Chandler is baby nuts. That’s all Sam can talk about as she and the Weasel Dog try to make another one—”
“Weasel Dog?” he asked.
“Long story,” Mike said, brushing that aside. Then she added, “And hey, I love Emma. My niece,” she added by way of explanation. “Sam’s daughter, and it’s great that she’s back in the family—”
“Back in?” Lucas asked. “Your niece left the family?”
“Long story,” Mike said again, and Lucas had the feeling that everything about this woman would eventually be a long story. There was nothing simple about her. Nothing understated. Everything about Mike Marconi was over the top. Her hair, her eyes, her laugh, her sexy, rough, low-pitched voice.
She threw both hands up and her hair flew out around her face in the rushing wind. “But God, does everyone have to get pregnant at once? Is there something in the water?”
He squinted into the sunlight. “Remind me to keep bottled water at my house.”
“Oh yeah. You’re in real danger.” She laughed suddenly and he was amazed again at her changeability. Mike’s moods could shift so quickly, a man had to be wearing a seat belt just to avoid whiplash. “All those women coming and going from your place must really worry you.”
Insulted, he cocked an eyebrow and glanced at her. “I’m not as big a loser as you seem to think I am.”
“Yeah?” she asked, turning in her seat again to smile at him. “You’re a scientist, aren’t you?”
“And that’s spelled l-o-s-e-r?”
“Please. Have you seen a picture of Einstein?”
A short bark of laughter shot from his throat. “He was married and had affairs.”
“A prince of a guy.”
“Not a prince. But hardly a virgin.”
She lifted one index finger. “Didn’t say you were a virgin.”
“Gee, thanks for that.”
She nodded regally, like a queen briefly recognizing a peasant who just happened to stumble across her path. “I figure you must have gotten lucky at some point in your life.”
The knot of lust that had held him in its grip since the furniture store eased back and irritation simmered to life again. Damn if the woman didn’t provoke all manner of emotions in him. “Thanks very much.”
She waved a hand. “I’m just sayin’—”
“Saying exactly what?”
She sighed. “Looks like we’re gonna talk about that kiss after all.”
Crap.
“I figure if you kiss that well, you’ve got to get some action sometime. So,” she said before he could prepare himself for whatever else might be coming, “how come no girlfriend? For the lack of women around your place, you could be a priest—you’re not a priest, are you?”
He scowled. “No.”
“That’s good.” She blew out a breath and smiled. “I don’t go to mass or
anything, but I draw the line at defrocking a priest.” She frowned to herself. “Not sure I know how to defrock somebody. Do you actually have to be frocked, first?”
Lucas shook his head and hit the turn signal on the steering column. He passed the beat-up camper-shell truck in front of them, then cruised back over to the slow lane. “Are you insane?”
“Not technically, but as I might have mentioned, I am Italian, so . . .”
“Okay, never mind.”
“So if you’re not a priest, what exactly are you?”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Scientist.”
“Yeah, I get that. Forget who told me, though. What kind? Rocket? Mad? Which?”
“There’s that humor again,” he muttered.
“Oh, I’m a laugh riot. Just ask my sisters.”
“No, thanks, one Marconi is more than enough for me.”
“That’s what they all say.”
“You’ve got a response for everything, don’t you?”
“Usually,” she admitted, and propped her elbow on the window frame. “But you didn’t answer my question and I rarely forget to drag a conversation back to the subject I was interested in. So what kind of scientist?”
“Research.”
“Well, that’s vague enough. Researching what?”
Fine . . . He’d tell her. But damn, he hated to. Invariably, someone heard what he was working on and it set off a long train of questions designed more for Arthur C. Clarke than Lucas Gallagher.
“I work with nanotechnology.”
Her eyes widened. “Nanites? Hey. I saw them on Stargate once.” She scooted around in her seat until she was facing him again. “They had these tiny nano-whatevers and they were in Colonel O’Neill’s bloodstream and they made him like a hundred years old in two weeks. It was really weird, and you know, for a completely cute man, he’s not going to age well at all.”
Her words came so fast, it was hard to keep up, but Lucas caught the gist, and wasn’t surprised. “It’s not like that. That’s science fiction. What I do—what we do—is research nanotechnology for medical uses.”
“Okay. Like . . . ?”
He sighed, stepped on the gas, and wished it weren’t such a long drive back to Chandler. “Like, maybe, one day, nanotechnology can be used to fight cancer cells. Inject them into the bloodstream and they attack only the diseased cells. Right now, they’re looking at ways to use the technology to devise better ways to administer medicine. There are researchers in every conceivable field, looking for ways to incorporate tomorrow’s science today.”
She applauded.
He frowned at her. “What’s that for?”
“You sounded like a commercial.”
“Hey, you asked.”
“True. So these nanothings . . . are used in what?”
He sighed, but gave her points. Most people he talked to about his work would glaze over and slip into a coma about now. She, at least, was pretending interest.
“You use sunscreen?”
“Hello? Italian. Years of pasta sauce and olive oil have built up an internal sunscreen to beat anything on the market today.”
“You should still use—”
“Geez. Kidding. Yeah, I use it. Why?”
“Nanotechnology is used in that, for one thing. Tiny nanoparticles that make zinc oxide clear instead of snow white.”
“Seriously?” She grinned and Lucas couldn’t help smiling along with her. He glanced at her. She had an amazing mouth. Wide and mobile and . . . way too tasty.
“Nanobots right there on your nose?”
“They’re not nanobots,” he said with a patient sigh. “There’s no such thing.”
“Maybe not, but who can keep saying nanotechnology all the time?”
The exit for Chandler was just a mile ahead and Lucas spared her another quick look. She was still smiling and damn if she didn’t look good. Too damn good.
“So are you working on nano stuff here? At your place?”
“No,” he said, pointing the car toward the exit. The curve in the freeway exit was bordered on both sides by towering trees with leaves just beginning to change color. “I’m on a leave of absence. I’m writing a book about the research being done and—”
“Sure to be a best seller,” she murmured, lifting both eyebrows.
At the end of the curve, he stopped at the traffic light and looked at her. “Some people are actually interested in what the future’s going to be made of, you know. In what we can do to make that future better.”
She just stared at him, and for some reason, Lucas felt compelled to go on. As usual, when talking about the work that had fascinated him for so long, his excitement colored his voice. “Think about it, Mike. In ten years, twenty, we could wipe out cancer. All cancers. This could be a cure for the modern plague. And it’s not just medicine that nanotechnology will affect. This science will be used in everything from plastics to making better, cleaner engines for cars . . .”
A slow smile spread across her face. “You really think you could cure cancer?”
He eased back into his seat. Adrenaline still pumped inside him and Lucas reminded himself to dial it down. No one ever got it. No one ever understood what the research meant to him. “Maybe not me. But someone like me will. One day, people will get anticancer shots as easily as they get tetanus boosters today.”
She nodded slowly, pushed her hair back from her face, and said, “You know something, I believe you.”
He looked at her and took off his sunglasses to get a better view of her clear, summer-sky blue eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I just wish it had been around nine years ago.”
“You lost someone?”
“My mom.” Mike took a deep breath and blew it out again. When she spoke, her voice was low, soft, and hinted of pain that still had the power to tear at her. “She died of cancer nine years ago. Still feels like yesterday sometimes.” She dipped her head, then looked up at him again. “You know?”
“Yeah, I do.” He put the car in gear and turned right, heading for downtown Chandler. “I lost my folks five years ago. Car accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So was I.” His own pain reared up and reminded him of the emptiness he carried around inside him. He was alone now. Alone, except for Justin—so, alone.
“It’s hard,” Mike said, letting her fingers play with the rubber stripping along the edge of the car window as she added, “If I hadn’t had my sisters, and Papa, I don’t know what I would have done. As it was, I—” She broke off and looked at him. “Do you have brothers? Sisters?”
Everything in him tightened up. “No sisters. One brother.”
“Where’s he live?”
He lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I don’t know.”
“What’s that mean?” Mike looked at him and saw that his jaw was clenched and his hands were fisted around the steering wheel tight enough to make his knuckles white. Probably not a good sign, but hell, if they were going to talk, then he couldn’t just shut up whenever the hell he felt like it. “You have a brother and you don’t know where he lives?”
“Yes.” He shot her a sidelong glance then slipped his sunglasses back on—but even from behind those dark lenses, Mike felt the chill in his gaze. So she backed off. For now. Lifting both hands, she said, “Hey, no problem. Not my brother, although in my family, if everyone doesn’t know where everyone else is at any given moment, the earth shakes and the skies thunder.”
“Not all families are like yours,” he said, and there was as much regret as anger in his voice now. Mike wondered what the rest of the story was, but then reminded herself that she had plenty of her own secrets. Who was she to go digging his up to air them out?
To ease them both back from the edginess suddenly spiraling around them, Mike changed the subject. “You know, I’ve been thinking about that kiss.”
He snorted. “When? We’ve been talking for the last
fifteen minutes.”
“You can’t talk and think at the same time?” She shook her head. “And you call yourself a scientist.”
He muttered something under his breath and Mike was pretty sure she was glad she hadn’t heard what he said. Still, his reluctance to talk about this wouldn’t stop her. “You need to get out more. That’s why the kiss happened. You need a woman.”
He stiffened, clearly offended. Okay, maybe that had come out wrong.
Before he could speak, she interrupted quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by that, so chill out. It’s just that you haven’t met many people and—”
“I’ve been busy,” he reminded her and made a left turn onto Main Street. “Protecting my house. From you.”
“Cute. My point is, that kiss—and okay, it was a beauty—just tells me that maybe you’ve been concentrating on nano stuff too long instead of the fun stuff.”
“You’re amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“Not sure it was a compliment.”
“That’s how I’m taking it.”
He shook his head and steered the car into a parking space right alongside her battered truck. He pulled up the brake but didn’t turn off the engine. “Whatever helps.”
“So,” Mike said, as he just sat there, watching her, “I’m thinking maybe Trish Donovan. She’s really nice. How do you feel about redheads?”
“They should be shot.”
“Huh?”
His chin hit his chest. “I don’t feel anything about them.”
“See?” she said. “Not out enough.”
“I’m out now.”
“With me.”
He lifted his head, pulled off his sunglasses, and hooked them through the neck of his dark green T-shirt. “Look. You want to help? Fine. You can help. I have to go to a fund-raiser for the lab next weekend. It’s at an old estate just outside San Francisco. Come with me.”
“Huh?” Mike wanted to thunk the heel of her hand against her ear, but that probably would look weird. Instead, she repeated, “Huh?”
He scrubbed one hand across his face—something she’d noticed he usually did when she was showing him one of her improvements on his house. A clear sign he was walking a ragged edge. But he was talking again and Mike told herself she’d better listen up.
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