Highly Charged! (2 page)

“Of course not. I pulled the bird from the jaws of a tomcat on the front law and the vet says he needs a few days for his wing to heal before I set him free. And the chipmunk—” But did he really need to know all about the strays she took in, just the way Chloe always had? They had been one great big family of strays. A tradition she enjoyed carrying on in Chloe's absence. “Well, suffice it to say he was injured through no fault of my own.”

“I'm on leave from my job with the navy for a couple of weeks. I work in demolitions—explosive ordnance disposal, officially.” A shadow crossed his expression before he shrugged and she wondered if his leave had anything to do with the mass of bandages on his left leg. There were less than the first time she'd seen him, but they still covered plenty of his lower limb. “I've been
climbing the walls between gigs anyhow. This way I can ensure that my house remains standing through the process and the local rabbits live to tell the tale.”

Frowning, she peered into the woods, certain that brown bunny had numerous friends and family. She refused to injure any wildlife in the process of renovating the house.

And she needed to make some progress. If she didn't get the historical society's okay, it left the home all the more vulnerable to Chloe's slew of relatives who didn't care about honoring their famous kin's memory. Once she had that protection of the historical designation, she'd have enough security to turn her attention to Chloe's other request…

“You must ensure the diaries are published in their original form, Nicole.” Chloe squeezed her hand from where she lay in a hospital bed, her grip surprisingly vital for a woman that doctors had warned repeatedly would not make it through another night. Seven days after entering the hospital, Chloe seemed to be holding her own, her short nails still painted her favorite shade of fire-engine red.

Nikki admired her so much. It had been a dream come true to meet a literary legend—one who had inspired Nikki on a personal level from the first time she'd read about Chloe's life as a young girl, getting shuffled from house to house the same way Nikki had. They'd both grown up among strangers. Never knowing a real home.

Chloe had gone on to create a sense of home no matter where she lived, circling the globe in search of adventure and taking in strays and strangers wherever she
went. Nikki had been pulled into the creative whirlwind of the older woman's world, but she'd never managed to find the source of Chloe's strength. Her belief in herself. Even now, battling kidney failure and the symptoms of early dementia in a sterile white room, Chloe remained a fierce, bright light.

“If they are in the house, Chloe, I promise I will find them.” Deep breaths, she reminded herself. She refused to cry in front of someone so strong. “I will make sure the originals are published.”

“I hid two of them long ago but I never told anyone where and these days I have such a hard time remembering anything. The vultures don't want those diaries to see the light of day.” She frowned, her gray hair sticking up in tufts like a newborn bird's fluffy feathers. A strand of red prayer beads from a Tibetan monk hung from one hand off the side of the bed. The vultures she referred to were family members who visited her twice a day in attempts to coerce her into changing her will or signing over her power of attorney. “They don't even know what I wrote in them to begin with, so don't let their protests stop you. My life is my own to share.”

“Of course.” Nikki had poured her a glass of water from the plastic pitcher beside the bed, unwilling to think about her life after Chloe's death. She had no idea where to begin looking for diaries that Chloe had forgotten where she'd hidden. “Have a drink and I'll take you for a spin in the corridor. We'll see if the guy in Room 142 is still trying to flash the nurses every chance he gets.”

“In a minute.” Chloe set the water cup down along with the prayer beads. “I have so much I wanted to share
with you, Nicole. You're the daughter I never had, and it has meant a great deal to me that you've been here with me while I prepare for my next big adventure.”

She winked a wrinkled eyelid, smiling as if death was a worthy opponent she looked forward to battling. Nikki's breath caught, her chest constricted tight.

“Where else would I be?” she finally managed, thinking Chloe was more pale today than yesterday.

“You should be out in the world, falling in love. Having wild, out of control sex.” Edging higher up on the pillow, Chloe nodded toward the wheelchair in the corner. “But since it's too late in the game for me to tell you everything you need to know about that, I'll settle for a ride to Room 142 so we can heckle the old flasher and give the nurses a break.”

Nikki shook off the memory that still left her heart in her throat. Maybe she'd get lucky and find those two missing volumes while she worked to methodically clean and organize the property this week.

“I have to warn you, I'm operating on a real budget here,” she told Brad finally. She would have hired help in the first place if she could have afforded it. “The inheritance tax cost me my savings, so I really can't pay—”

“All the more reason not to keep a rented tractor sitting idle.” He pointed to the equipment parked in the middle of the rolling lawn dotted by overgrown flower-beds full of heirloom flowers. “You can tell me what's next or if you have plans drawn up for the project, I can look those over instead.”

His eyes already roamed the landscape as if assessing the flaws for himself. Any hint of flirtation was
gone—although maybe wishful thinking had imagined those hot looks earlier. Right now, he was all business and, amazingly, prepared to offer his services…for what kind of reimbursement?

The thought of being in his debt worried her, but she wasn't in any position to refuse. The property was a gem in the rough, but Chloe's relatives had rented it out for many years while she traveled the globe, and various renters had let it go to seed. Later in life, Chloe had used it as a home base for her work. She'd always had grand plans for it, though, insisting it held special memories of her first real romance. Sadly, the diary that would have chronicled that time period was one of the volumes that remained missing.

“I've got some lists and sketches inside the house if you want to take a look.” Pointing the way, she started off in that direction, trying not to dwell on those sexy ultramarine eyes of his. “I really appreciate the help. Chloe's family has been so angry with me that it's nice to find someone who doesn't think this renovation is a terrible idea.”

He was quiet for a moment, and she could still feel the hum of awareness from their handshake earlier. She wondered if his eyes were on her now, and peered over her shoulder to check.

But his easy grin didn't betray anything.

“If your property value goes up, mine does too, right?” His gaze went to the roofline of the house where several add-ons through the years had marred the classic lines of the place. And, wow, all those gables and dormers reminded her she sure had a lot of territory to scour for those two missing diaries.

Fine. She hadn't wanted the distraction of an attraction anyhow. Just as well that he didn't seem to have an ulterior agenda by offering her a hand. Or so she told herself. Some perverse part of her mourned the fact that his potent stare wasn't fixed on her anymore.

“I guess you're right.”

Now if only she could scrub the memory of what he looked like while stalking around his living room half-naked from her brain.

N
INE HOURS LATER
, B
RAD
had run out of daylight as he shut off the tractor.

He'd uprooted tree stumps, dug out a couple of old foundations to outbuildings that no longer existed and hacked through an overgrown section of the lawn where a garden would eventually grow. He'd used a jackhammer, an insufficiently powered backhoe and the tractor with a couple of different attachments, all of which could go back to the rental company tomorrow since he'd gone medieval on the workload to make a major dent.

It felt good to work after being idle. It felt even better to impress a woman who'd nabbed a Ph.D. by studying sexy literature. The contrast fascinated him, making him all the more determined to find that sensual side beneath the hardworking professor.

Now the scent of barbecue hung in the air as Nikki lit a few torches around the backyard. She'd been on trash patrol most of the day, arranging for a scrap-metal company to pick up the remains of the shed, some old ladders and the contents of the basement she'd been cleaning. They'd been so busy they'd barely seen each
other beyond a few utilitarian conversations to facilitate one another's projects, which was just as well since he'd gotten the distinct impression she would have refused his help if she thought he planned to hit on her.

He knew he hadn't dreamed the leap of attraction between them when they'd shaken hands, but she'd looked about as pleased to realize it as she'd been to find a garter snake hiding in the basement earlier.

He didn't know what that was all about, but he had two weeks left on his “vacation” to figure out a way to bypass it. Nikki was the key to replacing his apocalyptic dreams with something a whole lot more entertaining.

Approaching the old flagstone patio outside her back door, Brad set the tractor keys on a weathered wrought-iron table. At the sound of the metal clinking against the iron, Nikki turned away from the grill, a basting brush in hand.

“I hope you'll stay for dinner.” She gestured to the table where he noticed two paper plates and a jug of iced tea. “You worked so hard today, the least I can do is feed you.”

She'd changed since he'd chased the snake from the basement. A clean white tank top and khaki cargo shorts hugged her curves. Her damp hair was starting to dry around her face, the glossy brown turning chestnut in the glow from the torchlight.

“I'd accept, but you might faint from the smell.” He sniffed the shoulder of his sweat-soaked shirt for confirmation and knew he couldn't share a table with her like this. “Do I have time to shower?”

Her eyes wandered over his chest before she turned back to the grill.

“Sure.” She gave a jerky nod that made him wonder what she'd been envisioning. “The chicken will be ready in about ten minutes, but I can turn off the heat and keep it warm for…” she cleared her throat “…whenever you're ready.”

Her last words came out a bit garbled, and he noticed she picked up the cup of iced tea she'd poured for herself. She took a long swig and kept her back to him.

Interesting.

“It'll take me ten minutes, tops.”

The night air felt cool as he jogged into the darkness, away from the heat of the torches and grill and an even hotter woman. The furry brown mutt he'd been feeding was there at the hedge line, wagging its tail so hard its whole butt shook.

“Hey, Killer.” He scratched the dog's head, thinking that taking in strays seemed to be as much a hobby for Nikki as it had been for her predecessor. Chloe Lissander had packed her yard full of bird feeders and bat houses, willing to care for all comers. “I'll pour you some food, but my guess is the grub will be better next door if you want to try your luck.”

Inside, he showered in a hurry, eager to take advantage of every minute Nikki was willing to spare for him tonight. She was seriously hot and thinking about her penning lofty critical theories about erotica had kept his imagination steaming along all day.

Ignoring the blinking light on his answering machine, he grabbed some laundry from the dryer, knowing his buddies were calling to check up on him. They'd made noises about having a shindig tomorrow night—a party he should probably attend even though he wasn't much
in the partying mood these days. Making quick work of feeding the stray, Brad wondered if he could talk his neighbor into taking in the dog. Hell, if he could talk her into a kiss he'd be happy. One kiss from her would be enough to keep his crappy dreams at bay. At least for one night.

Judging from the resistance he'd sensed in her initially—because she clearly wouldn't have accepted help from him if she hadn't been hard-up—she'd only offered dinner tonight out of gratitude. Somehow, the sparks that had flown between them when they'd first touched had put her on guard. She had seemed to shove aside the obvious attraction and he wasn't sure why. But he had no intention of letting her ignore the heat simmering whenever they got near each other.

She had no idea how much he needed that kind of distraction.

As he ducked through the hedgerow he heard an engine rev. The rumble of an old V-8 motor and a vibration beneath his feet emanated from somewhere near Nikki's place.

What the hell?

Shoving through the branches, he was just in time to see the shadowed outline of an old pickup truck spin a doughnut and burn rubber on the middle of her lawn.

“Hey!” he shouted and took off toward the vehicle, pain slicing up his injured leg as he ran. He ignored it.

With no headlights on, the truck careened dangerously close to the house as it sped toward the road, spitting chunks of sod. He heard the crash of broken glass.

Growling, the stray mutt passed Brad, picking up on
his pissed-off vibe at the intruder. Brad was still a good fifteen yards away when the truck hit the main road and gathered speed.

Nikki.

Giving up the chase, he ran toward the front door instead, the burn on his leg still stinging like hell. The dog kept after the truck, barking like a junkyard hound all the way up the deserted county road.

“Nicole!” Brad called, pausing long enough on the porch to assess the damage.

A window was broken on the far right corner. The bastard in the truck must have hurled a brick or a rock before he took off.

“I'm okay.” Nikki's voice was surprisingly close. A moment later, her pale face appeared at the broken window pane. “There's a rock on the living room floor.”

“Don't touch it.” He shoved through the front door; it was swollen in the frame, the wood sticking on all sides. Inside, a glow came from the back of the house, but the front remained dark. “Are there any lights in here?”

He had his phone out to call the cops, still listening for the truck in case it returned.

“Here.” She sounded shaken in the second before she clicked on a lamp in the hall.

They were half a step apart and he was in midjog. Her arms went out as a buffer before he collided with her, but all that accomplished was to seal her forearms between their bodies as he pinned her against a wall. The feel of her curves imprinted itself on his body. The scent of earthy, sweaty flesh…

A damn fine opportunity wasted since he needed to find out who was harassing her.

“Sorry.” Straightening, he blinked past the retinablinding lamp as his eyes adjusted.

She still clutched a pair of tongs in one hand from her efforts at the grill. But no matter the circumstances, he was left with an impression of her long, lithe body against his. The memory of silken hair and soft breasts teased the edges of his consciousness as he assessed the damage in the living room.

Shards of glass glittered everywhere on the dusty hardwood floor. Moonlight spilled in the jagged hole, highlighting spiderweb cracks radiating out in every direction on the old-fashioned single pane. While he examined the mess, Nikki phoned the police. She disappeared for a few minutes, her voice growing softer as she gave them the details of the incident. Brad guessed she was storing their dinner in the fridge as she moved around the kitchen, banging doors and cabinets before returning to the living room.

She took a seat on an abandoned piano bench in one corner, the stray dog at her feet, carrying a hunk of boneless chicken with his head held high as if he'd won first prize. The mutt settled close to her, squaring the meat between its front paws before digging in. He wasn't one bit surprised that Nikki had fed the stray without a second thought, never blinking at another animal around the house, although she was careful to keep the dog from the broken glass.

“You don't seem all that surprised about the rock through the window.” Brad leaned on the doorframe with one shoulder, studying Nikki's face as she clutched her cell phone in one hand. She was pale and obviously shaken, but there was also a sort of resigned
determination. “Is this the first time anything like this has happened here?”

“Actually, it is. But I'd been warned that Chloe's family was not happy to see me inherit the house.” She relinquished the phone, setting it on the bench alongside one long, lean thigh.

“I remember Chloe referring to her relatives as a bunch of ‘greedy grabbers,' to use her term. Do you think they're the kind of people who would go to criminal lengths to scare you off?”

In the distance, he could hear a police siren and knew she'd only have to re-tell the story when they showed up. But it pissed him off that someone would harass her and he wanted to personally ensure it wouldn't happen again.

“I don't know. There was a lot of grumbling at the reading of the will. The family was mad when her stepfather left it to her in the first place, rather than his biological kids, but the house had been purchased by Chloe's real mother before she abandoned Chloe as a girl.” She wrapped her arms around herself as she stared at the broken glass, looking too damn vulnerable in spite of the fact he knew she could operate heavy machinery and bulldoze unsuspecting garden sheds. “The general consensus is that I'm a usurper in the same way Chloe was. They think I don't deserve the house or control of Chloe's literary legacy.”

“Did any of these relatives threaten you personally?”

Her dark gaze swung back around to him as the sirens grew louder and a flash of lights circled the room from
the cop car pulling in the driveway. The exposed-wood ceiling beams were bathed in the red-and-blue glow.

“No. In fact, several of them helped me move in a couple of weeks ago. But Chloe's oldest stepbrother, Harold, is a local town councilman and he encouraged me to change the locks as soon as possible, implying he couldn't vouch for everyone in the Ralston clan.”

Their conversation was cut short by a knock at the door. Nikki rose to admit two uniformed officers while Brad waited on the periphery to give his statement.

He'd started work here today to distract him from his enforced downtime and to take his mind off disturbing dreams. The enticement of a sexy next-door neighbor had been more than enough temptation. But a threat to Nikki's safety?

Today's prankster didn't know who he was dealing with. Because when Brad turned the full focus of his training and determination on the person responsible, the guy would be sorry he ever messed with a woman for whom Brad felt oddly protective. He had two weeks' worth of resentment about an op gone wrong just looking for an outlet.

A little retribution seemed right up his alley.

 

B
Y THE TIME THE POLICE
had finished, Nikki could smell the scent of barbecue chicken back on the grill.

The thoughtfulness of that simple act speared past the defenses she liked to erect around men who were too handsome for their own good. How could she stay strong against someone who wanted to feed her after a long, tiring day capped off by vandalism?

That would be a feat she couldn't tackle tonight.

Nikki wound her way through the house sorely lacking in furniture but crammed full of clutter, toward the back door. She really needed to start culling Chloe's possessions to make room for her own, but it wouldn't be easy to part with anything. As a kid, Nikki had compensated for her lack of a real home by collecting artifacts from every place she ever visited, in an attempt to surround herself with happy memories if not security. Chloe had been the same way, and their combined hoarding legacy created a staggering amount of material goods. Nikki squeezed past a box of Mexican corn husk dolls she'd made while attending a summer camp as a teen and stepped out onto the back patio.

Brad manned the grill in the moonlight with that cute dog of his at his feet. The torches she'd lit earlier still burned in a ring around the flagstones, illuminating the wrought-iron table and a couple of place settings he'd resurrected from the kitchen counter. A bowl of grapes from the fridge served as a centerpiece next to a halfmelted candle he'd stuffed in an empty wine bottle.

His efforts touched her.

“Thank you.” She slid into a seat at the table to thwart her sudden urge to fling her arms around him. In one day, this man had accomplished more on Chloe Lissander's neglected property than she'd managed in the last week. He'd relocated the most menacing reptile she'd ever seen, chased off a trespasser and waited with her until the police arrived. Now, he had dinner ready when she was starving and exhausted. No matter that she'd cooked it originally. She could think of boyfriends in her past who wouldn't have bothered to reheat a leftover for her sake.

The buggers.

“Thank
you
. The hard part was already done.” He took the chicken off the grill and served it straight to their plates, next to foil packets of veggies and cobs of corn speared with oddball little corn holders shaped like smiling lobsters that had belonged to Chloe. “Plus, I figured the scent of our dinner might chase off the cops once the visit devolved from investigating to blatant flirting.”

She was so entranced by the taste of barbecue sauce that it took her a minute to catch his surly tone.