'My masseur. He's from Norway and has the hands of an artist. He taught me his technique.'
'I'll just bet,' Nathan muttered, and had Jackie grinning behind his back.
God, who would have suspected he had muscles like this? The man drew up blueprints and argued with engineers. Jackie hadn't suspected that his conservative shirts hid all those wonderful ridges. Last night, when he'd held her, she'd been too dazed to notice how well he was built. She ran her hands over his shoulders.
'You've got a terrific build,' she told him. 'I've got lousy deltoids myself. When I was into bodybuilding, I never managed to do much more than sweat.'
Enough was enough, Nathan thought. One more squeeze of those long, limber fingers and he'd do something embarrassing. Like whimpering. Instead, he spun around on the stool and caught her hands in his.
'What the hell are you trying to do?'
She didn't mind her heart skipping a beat. In fact, it was a delightful feeling. Still, she remembered that revenge was her first order of business.
'Just trying to loosen you up, Nate. Tension's bad for the digestion.'
'I'm not tense. And don't call me Nate.'
'Sorry. It suits you when you get that look in your eyes. That look,' she explained, and she would have gestured if her hands hadn't been clamped in his. 'The one that says shoot first and ask questions later.'
He would be patient. Nathan told himself to count to ten, but only made it to four. 'Careful, Jack. You're here on probation. You'd be wise to back off from whatever game you're playing.'
'Game?' She smiled, but her eyes held the first hint of frost he'd ever seen in them. For some reason, even that attracted him. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'What about that stuff you put on your mouth?'
'This?' Deliberately she ran her tongue over her upper, then her lower lip. 'A woman's entitled to a little lipstick now and then. Don't you like it?'
He wouldn't dignify the question with an answer. 'You put stuff on your eyes, too.'
'Are cosmetics against the law in this state? Really, Nate-sorry, Nathan-you're being silly. Surely you don't think I'm trying to… seduce you?' She smiled again, daring him to comment. 'I'd think a big strong man like you could take care of himself.' She liked the way his eyes could darken from slate to smoke. 'But if it stirs you up, I'll be certain to keep my mouth absolutely naked from now on. Will that be better?'
His voice was so soft, so very controlled, that she was fooled into thinking she was still at the wheel. 'People who fight dirty end up in the mud themselves.'
'So I've heard.' She tossed back her head and looked at him from beneath her lashes. 'But you see, I can take care of myself, too.'
She saw then that she had misjudged him. Perhaps by no more than a few degrees, but such miscalculations could often be fatal. The look that came into his eyes was so utterly reckless, so coolly dangerous, that her heart thudded to a halt.
Jake was back, and his guns were smoking.
It would be more than a kiss now, whether she wanted it or not. It would be exactly as he chose, when he chose and how he chose. No amount of glib chatter or charming smiles was going to help.
When the doorbell rang, neither of them moved. With a hard, painful thump, Jackie's heart started again. Saved by the bell. She would have giggled if she hadn't been ready to collapse.
'That must be Mrs. Grange,' she said brightly, just a shade too brightly. 'If you'd let go of my hands now, Nathan, I'd be glad to answer the door while you finish your breakfast.'
He did release her, but only after making her suffer through the longest five seconds of her life, during which she believed he would ignore the door and finish what his eyes had told her he intended to do. Saying nothing, Nathan let her go, then swiveled back around to the counter. The pity of it was that he no longer wanted coffee, but a nice stiff drink.
Jackie slipped out of the kitchen. She hoped his eggs were stone-cold.
She loved Mrs. Grange. When Jackie opened the door, she wasn't sure what to make of the large woman in the flowered housedress and high-top sneakers. Mrs. Grange gave Jackie a long, narrowed look with watery blue eyes, pursed her lips and said, 'Well, well.'
Understanding the implications of that, Jackie smiled and offered a hand. 'Good morning. You must be Mrs. Grange. I'm Jack MacNamara, and Nathan's stuck with me for a few weeks because he can't bring himself to toss me out. Have you had breakfast?'
'An hour ago.' After she stepped inside, Mrs. Grange set a huge canvas bag on the floor. 'MacNamara. You must be related to that no-account.'
Jackie didn't need a name. 'Guilty. We're cousins. He's gone.'
'And good riddance.' With a sniff, Mrs. Grange cast a look around the living area. Though she approved of the fresh flowers, she was determined to withhold final judgment. 'I'll tell you like I told him. I don't clean up after pigs.'
'And who could blame you?' Jackie's grin was fast and brilliant. If dear cousin Fred had tried to charm Mrs. Grange, he'd fallen flat on his baby face. 'I'm using the guest room, the blue-and-white one? I'm working in there, too, so if you'll just let me know where that room fits into your schedule I'll make sure I'm out of your way. I'm planning on fixing lunch about twelve-thirty,' she continued, mentally adjusting her menu with the idea of carving a few pounds from Mrs. Grange's prodigious bulk.
Mrs. Grange's lips pursed again. It was a rare thing for an employer to offer her a meal. For the most part she was treated with polite, and bland, disregard. 'I brought some sandwiches.'
'Of course, if you'd rather, but I was hoping you'd join us. I'll be upstairs if you need anything. Nathan's in the kitchen and the coffee's fresh.' She smiled again, then left Mrs. Grange to begin while she went upstairs.
Throughout the morning, Jackie heard the sounds of vacuuming and the heavy thud of Mrs. Grange's sneakers moving up and down the hallway. It pleased her that the noise and activity didn't intrude on her concentration. A real writer, in her opinion, should have imagination enough to overcome any outside interference. By noon, she was well on her way to sending Jake and Sarah on another adventure.
Jackie decided on a cracked-wheat-and-parsley salad for the lunch break. With the radio on, she set about dicing and cubing and humming to herself while she tried to imagine what it would be like to outrun desperadoes. When Nathan came in, she turned the music down, then set a huge bowl on the counter.
'Iced coffee all right?
'Fine.' His answer was casual, but he was watching her. One wrong move, he thought, and he was going to pounce. He wasn't certain what would constitute a wrong move, or what he'd do once he'd pounced, but he was ready for her.
'I'd like to use the phone later, if you don't mind. Anything long-distance I'll charge to my credit card.'
'All right.'
'Thanks. I think it's about time to start planting the seeds of Fred's downfall.'
With his fork halfway to his mouth, Nathan stopped. 'What kind of seeds?'
'You're better off not knowing. Oh, hello, Mrs. Grange.'
Annoyed with the interruption, Nathan turned to look at his housekeeper. 'Mrs. Grange?'
'Sit down right here,' Jackie said before Nathan could continue. 'I hope you like this. It's called
Mrs. Grange settled her bulk on a stool and eyed the bowl doubtfully. 'It doesn't have any of that funny stuff in it, does it?'
'Absolutely not.' Jackie set a glass of iced coffee next to the bowl. 'If you like it, I'll give you the recipe for your family. Do you have a family, Mrs. Grange?'
'Boys are grown.' Cautiously Mrs. Grange took the first forkful. Her hands, Jackie noticed, were work- reddened and ringless.
'You have sons?'
With a nod, Mrs. Grange dipped into the salad again. 'Had four of them. Two of them are married now. Got three grandkids.'
'Three grandchildren. That's marvelous, isn't it, Nathan? Do you have pictures?'
Mrs. Grange took another forkful. She'd never tasted anything quite like this. It wasn't cold meat loaf on rye, but it was nice. Real nice. 'Got some in my bag.'
