NOAH watched her go, wondering if she was going to make it in her beautiful boat of a wedding dress. He shouldn’t have had a doubt. She had enough determination for a dozen brides. His sense of her was that she’d overcome a lot in her life, and this was just another hurdle.
He didn’t like the idea of being a hurdle, however.
Maybe he had a fatal romantic streak, but the thought of being the prince who kissed Sleeping Beauty awake held much more appeal. Her test kiss hadn’t been bad, but he hadn’t had a chance to reciprocate. He wanted that chance. In all honesty he would have given almost anything for it, including his good luck charm, the tool belt. Since running into her in the store, he’d become pleasantly obsessed with the idea of having her come awake in his arms, realizing who she really was and what she really felt. Discovering how damn sexy she was.
He couldn’t wait to hear the moans and sighs he knew were bottled up inside her. What a trip to uncork her and have her bubble all over him like champagne, her breath as sweet as strawberries, her lips as fiery as the wine. Sleeping Beauty coming undone in his arms. That was the fairy tale he wanted to come true. But she had no clue.
She also had no idea how sensual she was with her breasts spilling out of the satin wedding dress. He’d been getting ready to catch them if they fell.
Just the thought made his fingers tingle and ache.
He folded his arms and watched her disappear through the conference room door, his thoughts taking a turn toward the serious. The obvious hadn’t escaped him. He was mucking in the lives of nice people, playing roulette with their futures. But was he changing what was written in the stars for Lucy Sexton? Or was he trying to help her see that she’d misread them? He honestly didn’t know. He’d gone with his gut, and it had told him she was making one hell of a mistake.
Now he had to ask himself some questions and the answers would play heavily into what he did next. Did he go merrily on his way and let her make a mistake? He could easily make the argument that this wasn’t a mission of mercy. What if he wasn’t trying to save the woman from herself? What if he was trying to steal her for himself?
On that sobering thought he turned to leave and saw the surprise he’d set on the receptionist’s desk when he came in. It was a gift to help Lucy with the goose bumps that raced up and down her arms. He considered leaving it for her, but that would have been inappropriate in her eyes, he was sure. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about being appropriate and never had, but clearly it was important to her.
He picked up the gift-wrapped box and tucked it under his arm. As he walked through the reception area, he ticked off all the reasons why he should keep going and never darken her doorstep again. Lots of people would be inconvenienced if she changed her plans; some would be hurt, like her fiancé. But was that a reason to sacrifice her life?
Not in Noah’s mind. However, there was one reason he couldn’t argue with. She didn’t want him mucking with her plans. She’d just told him they couldn’t see each other anymore, and she’d said it with conviction.
We can’t see each other again. You can’t drop by.
That was going to be a tall order, but he would have to carry it out. It wasn’t like he had a choice anymore, he realized, surprised by the dawning awareness. What she wanted was the only thing that mattered to him.
LUCY needed an appliance exorcist. She’d just washed her hair, but she couldn’t get the hair dryer to work. When she turned it on, her electric toothbrush sprang to life, vibrating madly in its ceramic holder, but the hair dryer just sat there. She’d also tried the bathroom’s other two outlets, which had turned on her depilator and her curling iron, in that order. But no matter what she did, the dryer played dead.
She tried the bathroom lights a couple times as a test. There she was, staring at her own exasperated expression, flashing on and off in the mirror. Now you see the cranky lady. Now you don’t.
At least the lights worked, but something was definitely wrong. It probably fell short of demon possession, but she had reason to wonder. With Frederick out of town on business, she’d spent the weekend alone, taking care of last-minute details for the wedding, and she’d had one minor crisis after another. Yesterday, it was the kitchen. Her dishwasher turned itself on and went into the wash cycle every time she used the microwave. The day before that the garage door had opened when her neighbor rang the doorbell. Fortunately, Lucy lived in a gate-guarded community.
She’d just bought the condo a few months ago, and she and Frederick were planning to start out here after they were married. It was the first home she’d ever owned, and she took real pride in that, but the downside was no apartment manager to call in a situation like this.
She gave the hair dryer a pained look. “What is your problem?”
Thank God, it didn’t answer her.
The toothbrush was still buzzing away, so she turned it off, wondering if that might bring the dryer back to life. No such luck. Since she was headed for bed anyway and figured she might as well brush her teeth, she switched the toothbrush back on. Low and behold, the hair dryer began to hum.
Lucy quickly bent over and began working on her damp hair. As bizarre as this situation was, it didn’t trump getting her hair dry, and she had no idea how long the dryer would hold out.
“Not long,” she muttered when it snapped off just moments later. She caught the faint smell of something burning as she hit the ON button to restart the toothbrush. Big mistake. The lights began to blink and a crackling noise came through the walls. She toggled the toothbrush off, but it was too late. A series of tiny detonations sounded like fireworks. The room got very bright, and then Lucy was enveloped in darkness. The circuits had blown.
She let out a sigh that resounded in the silence.
Her kimono hung open, and she tied it tightly around her as she left the room, warding off the vulnerability she felt. She was surprised to see the bedroom lights still burning and the television running. Apparently the power had only been affected in the bathroom. She went to the bedside phone to call her mother.
“Ouch!” A hot bolt of electricity raced up her arm. She dropped the receiver and realized her own phone had given her a shock. It was a message machine with one of those plug-in units, and it must have shorted out, too. What was going to go next? She gave the rest of the bedroom a wary look. She should have taken care of this when the dishwasher started acting strangely, but she’d been too busy to breathe.
She grabbed her purse off the dresser and began riffling through it for her cell phone. She didn’t find it in its zipper pocket, so she upended the bag and dumped the contents. When you were dealing with multiple pockets, compartments, and hidey-holes, a full-scale shakedown was the quickest way, she’d discovered. Once she’d found her car keys lurking in the satin pouch with her panty liners.
She retrieved the cell phone from the pile on her dresser and tapped out the number. Her mother answered on the second ring.
“What’s up, Luce?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. Caller ID.
“My new house is possessed,” Lucy said. “The appliances have gone bonkers. They turn on and off by themselves, and my telephone just gave me a nasty shock.”
“Have you called George, the handyman?” her mother asked.
“It’s nearly ten o’clock at night. I can’t bother him now.”
“Is it really ten? No wonder I’m sleepy.” Her mother yawned and apologized. “Go through the Yellow Pages and call an electrician. They have people who make emergency calls at all hours. If that doesn’t work, pack up and come over here.”
She was not going to her mother’s. She loved the woman dearly, but they were at odds right now, and the less concentrated time spent together the better. Her mother would only start probing about her and Frederick.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll call someone. It’ll be fine.”
Once they’d said their good-byes, Lucy sat down on the bed to go through the Yellow Pages. As she searched the book, she noticed a
business card on the floor that had probably dropped out of her bag. She bent over and picked it up.
Hightower Electric.
Noah, the bells and whistles guy. She stared at the card and wondered if she was as crazy as her appliances. She hadn’t seen him since the day she was having her wedding dress fitted—and she’d been fighting off thoughts of him since. She couldn’t call him . . . even though he might be one of the few people with the chops to figure out why her appliances were acting like characters in a Disney animated feature. He was creative enough to have hot-wired the place himself, except that he didn’t know where she lived. She’d never told him.
She didn’t call George, either. He was retired and didn’t deserve being dragged out on a Sunday night, especially on a job like this. She did call several of the electricians in the book, and got no answer. Not that she’d expected to. And she was going to bed anyway. It could wait until tomorrow.
Hopefully nothing would turn itself on during the night.
She closed her cell phone and set it by her bed, then wandered back into the bathroom, where one of her oversized T-shirts was hanging on a hook behind the door. She traded the kimono for the T-shirt, popped some pink Velcro rollers in her damp hair, and headed for bed.
The last thing she did before she turned out the lights was call the number on Noah’s card just to see if he had a voice mail message. He did. And she shouldn’t have called. His deep, resonant voice made her feel as if he could fix anything, any problem she had and might ever have, whether it had anything to do with her appliances or not.
LUCY’S eyes popped open to total darkness. She’d heard something. An odd creaking sound. There it was again. And again. Had one of her appliances turned itself on? She sat up, listening. The noises sounded as if they were coming from the kitchen.
She slipped out of bed and heard a click. This one had sounded like a door opening. Maybe the locks were unlocking themselves.
Her palms were wet as she picked up a heavy crystal paperweight from the dresser. She crept into the hallway and down its length. As she got to the kitchen, she saw that the door to the garage was slightly ajar. Someone was breaking into her house, and it was too late to call 911.
She moved up behind the door and waited for the intruder to make his move. As the door opened wider and the dark figure entered, Lucy reared up and cracked the lead crystal against his skull with all her might.
Chapter Six
THE intruder whirled, and Lucy screamed. She’d hit him as hard as she could. How could he still be standing? She swung at him again, but he blocked her and knocked the crystal from her hand. It hit something solid and shattered.
Lucy sucked in a gasp. Move, she told herself. Go for the eyes or the groin. The larger the target the better! She drove up with her knee, but he blocked her again, twisting so that she collided with his thigh.
He kicked the door closed behind her and backed her up against it, pinning her hands on either side of her head. He held the lower part of her body with his hips, so tightly that she couldn’t move a muscle.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said under his breath, “what’s going on?”
Between gasps, she got out, “Let go of me!”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to calm down.”
“Calm down?” she sputtered.
“Lucy, it’s me.”
His body was unyielding, but she knew that voice. “You?”
The kitchen lights came on. He must have reached behind her and hit the wall switch.
“Yes,” he said, meeting her frightened gaze, “me. Noah.”
His intense blue eyes and smoky eyelashes were all she needed to see. What was he doing here? Her legs would have dumped her on the floor if he hadn’t been holding her fast.
“What are you doing here?” she said, echoing her thoughts.
“Trying to keep you from hitting me?”
He had the nerve to look amused by the situation. She really would have socked him, if she could have. Why was he still pressing her against the door with his hips and flooding her with his body heat?
She pushed back with her pelvis and realized it wasn’t the smartest move. She bumped something she shouldn’t have, and his eyes darkened dramatically.
It was almost impossible to ignore the warmth of his breath, with its hints of Scotch and wintergreen. He was much too close, and her body was responding as if she liked it. Her heart wasn’t pounding just because he’d frightened her. “You broke into my house, and I’m not supposed to hit you?”
“I didn’t break in. I pressed your doorbell, and the garage door opened. When I went to check it out, I found the door to the house open.”
“Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?”
“Didn’t your mother teach you to lock doors?”
Her answer was a huge sigh. “Do you really need to keep holding me like this?”
He seemed to be giving some serious thought to the way he was holding her. His lashes lowered and his voice deepened as he met her gaze. “Yeah, I do.”
“Well, I need you to stop.”
He glanced at her lips and bent shockingly close to her mouth before releasing her hands. He stepped back, but not far enough for her to move, and she wasn’t sure she could have anyway. He’d ripped the breath right out of her.
She ducked under his arm and escaped into the kitchen proper.
“I let you do that,” he said.
Lucy groaned aloud. She’d just caught her reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator door. She looked like a Valley Girl from Mars. “I’m wearing a T-shirt,” she groaned. “And big pink rollers in my hair!”
She pulled the rollers out of her hair and dropped them on the counter, wishing the T-shirt were a little longer—and that she’d worn some underwear to bed!
“Don’t change for me,” he said. “I think T-shirts are sexier than hell.”
Her new kitchen had chrome appliances and a gleaming hardwood floor, all of which she had handpicked without the help of a decorator, but she hadn’t realized how many reflecting surfaces she’d created until this minute. She could see herself everywhere—and so could he.
She moved behind the chopping block island in the center of the room, thwarting his view of her bare legs. “You’re not for real, right? Tell me you’re an actor and this is someone’s idea of a joke on the bride-to-be.”
“I’ve been called a few names, but never a practical joke.”
“Then why are you here?”
He folded his arms, relaxing. “Because you called me.”
“Called you?”
“Your number was right there on my caller ID log. You must have hung up without leaving a message.”
“How did you know it was my number?”
“I didn’t. I hit star sixty-nine and got your voice mail. I tried to call you back, but you’d turned off your phone, so I searched the Net and found your address.”
The kitchen’s recessed lighting began to flicker, and Lucy looked up. “Uh-oh, there go the lights.”
“Aren’t you lucky an electrician just broke into your house. Shall I go get my tool belt?”
“You planned this, didn’t you?” Easy, Lucy, that’s a little paranoid, even for you. But he had found her address and come over here on his own, which raised a few questions in her mind. She had no way of knowing if he was telling her the truth about anything, but she had many more pressing issues right now. She rattled off a list of the problems she’d been having all weekend, starting with her demon-possessed appliances.
“This was not caused by some random blown fuse,” she insisted. “Somebody who knows what they’re doing has been messing around.”
He grew serious. “Do you have enemies who would go to this much trouble? Maybe someone who wasn’t happy with the way their case was resolved?”
“Most people aren’t, quite honestly. Mediation isn’t a win/lose situation. It’s comp
romise. In a divorce case, everybody loses in one way or another. I don’t give out my home address, but you found it easily enough.”
“Why don’t you let me take a look around,” he said. “I can probably get your appliances running again, and if it was sabotage, I should be able to tell.”
“Of course, go ahead.” She didn’t have much choice but to trust him. She could call the police, but they wouldn’t be able to help her with the electricity. “I’ll go get changed in case you need me for something.”
“I do need you for something, and you’re not going to have time to change. I didn’t bring my truck, and the only equipment I have with me is a spare tool belt and a couple flashlights. See if you can find some candles, lots of them, and quickly. I’m going to have to turn off the main breaker.”
“The fuse box is in the laundry room,” she told him. With that he was gone, and Lucy began to case out her kitchen. Candles? A client had given her brass candelabras and tapers for Christmas last year, and she had lots of beautiful candles in the living room and master bedroom. They were part of the décor. She’d never used them, and this wasn’t quite the way she’d envisioned lighting them for the first time, but it couldn’t be helped.
First, she checked herself out in the mirror her refrigerator had become, taking a look at her backside. The T-shirt hit midthigh, giving her pretty good coverage. He would be busy anyway. And the lights would be out. What was he going to see?
She found a box of long fireplace matches in her kitchen drawer and set to work, lighting candles throughout the house. The candelabras she arranged on her glass dining room table, and she’d just finished lighting the tapers when he called to her from the garage. “Lights out! Are you ready?”
She shouted that she was, and the house went dark. The tapers flared, seemingly fed by the lack of light. It was eerie and beautiful. Her living room was ablaze, too, and the multitude of small fires created a sense of calm within her that was rare. She liked the feeling, which was probably why she liked candles, and darkness.
Man of My Dreams Page 21