by Jeannie Watt
“Nick, this is my brother, Justin. Justin, Nick Duncan.”
Nick got to his feet and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Nick sat back down and Justin went to the cupboard, where he took out an oversize cup, then filled it with coffee.
“So, where are we?” he asked, pulling up a chair to the table between Eden and Nick.
“I was about to tell your sister that she lives in a relatively safe neighborhood, but that she needs to update a few things.”
“How so?” Justin asked in a way that told Eden he’d been doing a bit of independent research.
“Better lighting and possibly an alarm system. I want to take a look around, and then I can give you a more in-depth analysis.”
“I like the idea of an alarm system,” Eden said. Then maybe she’d start sleeping through the night again.
Justin studied Nick. “Do you prefer a wired or wireless system?”
There was a brief silence before Nick said, “Depends on the house. In this case, I’d suggest wireless so we don’t have to tear into the old plaster.”
“But those can be triggered by any radio signal, right? A passing police car or anything?”
“It doesn’t happen that often, and the wired systems have their share of problems, too. But either one would beat having no security at all.”
“Agreed,” Justin said, his tone giving Eden an instant bad feeling. “Do you work out of your home?” he asked Nick.
“Yeah. I do. Why?”
“Because I couldn’t find a business listed in the Yellow Pages under your name.”
“I’m just starting out.” There was another short pause before he said, “Up until a few weeks ago I was a cop.”
Before Eden could respond, Justin asked, “Laid off?”
“Personality conflict with my lieutenant,” Nick said. “If you have a problem with my credentials—”
Justin shook his head. “You have to understand my position here. The only way we know you is through two cooking lessons. This is my sister.”
Who can run her own interference.
“Just how much security do I need?” Eden interrupted, having had quite enough of the face-off. When she’d asked Justin to come for the inspection, she’d simply wanted another person with her, not a brother in overprotective mode.
“Let me take a look at the place and then we can talk.” Nick met her eyes. “If you’re still okay with it.”
“Where do you want to start?” Eden asked.
“Doors and windows, followed by garage.”
When he stood, she managed to catch Justin’s eye, telling him quite clearly, with a simple raising of her eyebrows, to back off. He gave an unrepentant shrug. As always. Reggie had been the guardian of the family in all matters relating to money, health and school. Justin had fancied himself the muscle. And, for being a pretty normal-size guy, he was actually good at taking care of business. Eden didn’t think he’d do too well with Nick, though.
“Wow,” was all Nick said when he opened the kitchen door that led to the garage. Plastic storage bins were stacked along three walls and the rest of the garage was filled with loose stuff.
“I tend to start hobbies,” she muttered. And to buy clothing and holiday decorations. A giant inflatable jack-o’-lantern, now just a flaccid length of black-and-orange nylon hanging from a hook next to the door, attested to that. “And I also store things for other people,” she said, giving her brother a meaningful glance. Justin lived in a condo on the Truckee River with minimal storage, so she was the keeper of the water skis during the winter, the snowboard and snow skis during the summer, the outboard motor, the kayak.
“At least I sold the Fiat,” he said, referring to the car that had sat in her driveway for over a year, behind the Firebird, which had also been up on blocks, forcing her to park on the street.
“Finally.” He’d always meant to restore the bucket of bolts, but between all his jobs, guess what? No time.
Nick wove a path through the cluttered garage to the window on the far side. The bushes outside had grown so high that it barely let in light.
“You need to prune back the shrubbery,” he said. “Bushes make good hiding spots.”
Eden nodded when he glanced back at her. She’d known that, but had somehow never thought she’d need to take such precautions in her neighborhood.
“I’ll take care of that,” Justin said.
“Seems like the least you can do, since this is also your storage area.”
Justin looked as if he wanted to say something back, but didn’t. Frankly, Eden was ready for the consultation to be over. She appreciated her brother coming to her place on one of his few mornings off, and she understood his suspicions, but the testosterone was getting a bit thick.
They went out to the yard and Nick inspected the exterior doors and windows, pointed out the places where she needed lighting, shook his head at her motion sensor. Finally, they went back into the kitchen, where Justin poured himself another half cup of coffee. He held up the pot, but the others shook their heads.
“So what do you think?” Eden asked Nick.
“You need new locks all the way round. An alarm system on the doors and windows would give you some peace of mind, but you could live without it if you fortify. You definitely need better lighting and you have to replace those antique motion sensors on your house.”
“They work.”
“You said that the neighborhood cats set them off,” he explained patiently. “Newer models are not sensitive to small animals.”
“How about bears?” Justin asked.
Nick gave no sign of reaction. “Bears would set off a sensor, which might be a problem at Tahoe. But the last I heard, there weren’t any bears in the general Reno vicinity.”
“Just curious,” Justin said.
“I’m not worried about bears,” Eden interjected. “Just people. And I think I want some kind of alarm on the doors and windows.”
“That’d give you more of a sense of security.”
That was all she was looking for.
“How much?”
Nick met her eyes and she felt that same tiny zap of connection they’d had the first time he’d come to the catering kitchen. “I’ll make some calls, see what kind of price I can get on a decent system. Sometimes I can get a deal on last year’s models. I’ll try to have an estimate worked up by Monday afternoon.”
“How long will it take you to install?”
Nick shot Justin a quick look. “I’m not sure. Depends on the system. I’ll have a better idea on Monday.”
CHAPTER SIX
NICK WALKED TO his truck, wondering how he could manage a cram course in the fine art of security system installation before next weekend. He had no doubt that he could get the job done; he just didn’t know if he could look like a professional while doing it. Obviously, he wouldn’t be able to spend massive amounts of time studying the directions if Eden was there watching him, and he wouldn’t be able to access her computer records, either. Solution? Make sure neither she nor her brother was at the house.
Nick might not find anything on her computer, but he was of the no-stone-unturned school of investigation. Sometimes clues to illegal operations showed up in unexpected places, and if Justin was involved, there was a strong possibility that his sisters—who did the books—were involved, too. In fact, they’d almost have to be. Which bothered Nick.
His big worry at the moment, however, besides becoming an installation expert, was that one of the Tremonts would call Reno PD to check his story and find out he hadn’t quit, but was suspended. But he’d had to tell a semblance of the truth. Flat-out lying about his occupation could have come back to bite him in the ass. The only thing he could hope for now was that the Tremonts had no reason to believe that he was insinuating himself into their lives for any reason other than cooking and security.
“WHAT’S YOUR READ?” Eden asked after the distinctive noise
of Nick’s diesel truck faded into the distance.
Justin grabbed his cup and took a swallow. “He sounded knowledgeable enough.”
“Unlike some of us,” Eden said as she opened the dishwasher and put Nick’s mug inside. “‘What do you prefer? Wired or wireless?’” she mimicked, closing the door.
Her brother grinned. “Hey, I didn’t have much time to bone up.” He swallowed the last of his lukewarm coffee.
“Obviously,” Eden agreed. “But I was asking what your read was on getting a security system. Worth the money? Or will bigger and better locks and improved lighting do the same thing?”
“According to my research…” Justin began pompously, and then smiled. “You definitely need the locks and the lighting, which apparently this guy can do for you. A security system will probably make you feel safer while you’re home—as long as you remember to turn it on.”
“So it comes down to how much I want to spend to feel safe at night.”
“I vote for the system,” Justin said. “It’d make me feel better.”
“Speaking of which…” Eden turned and leaned back against the sink, studying him with a slight frown. “Are you all right?”
“Why?” Justin said, sending her a cautious look.
“You appear well-rested.”
One corner of his mouth curved up. “Appearances can be deceiving,” he said drily, getting up and walking to the coffee carafe. He held it high as the very last few drops drained out.
“How long are you going to be able to keep this up?” Eden asked.
He didn’t answer immediately; Eden knew he hated it when she pulled the big-sister act. Tough. It was no more annoying than the protective-brother bit, which she’d learned to live with, thank you very much.
“I’m young.” A few seconds ticked by, and then he said, “I’ll keep filling in for Maurie, the injured chef, until he’s back on his feet. It’s only one extra day a week. By the time I start making serious cakes,” he continued, referring to the six orders he already had for May and June weddings, “he’ll be back in the kitchen and I can go down to three days a week. And Patty’s doing a great job with the desserts when I’m not there.”
“You’re burning a lot of gas driving back and forth, because I know you’re driving the Firebird and not the Focus.”
He smiled self-consciously. “I have to make time.”
“And that worries me.”
“Don’t,” he said, suddenly serious. “I’m fine.” He drank the remaining coffee in a couple swallows, then went to rinse his cup in the sink. Eden stepped aside to give him access. “I’m going to take a few more hours off,” he said, “then head over to the kitchen. What are your plans today?”
“The same,” she said. They didn’t have another event until midweek, so she wanted to do some office work. “No last-minute anything?”
“Not even a cupcake.”
“Good, then maybe you can do a quick inventory of your baking supplies.”
“Will do. See you in a few hours.”
He started for the door, stopping to look over his shoulder. “This guy is probably exactly who he says he is, but I still want to be here when he installs the system.”
“Maybe you can help me catch up on my housework.”
Justin mouthed her words back to her and she laughed.
“Go home. Get some sleep. I’ll see you at the kitchen later this aft.”
NICK PARKED IN front of the Tremont Catering kitchen and gathered the brochures he’d collected the day before. He’d learned a lot about security systems, and once Eden told him which one she preferred, he’d do his research on installation and operational requirements.
The front door was open, so he let himself in and followed the sound of rhythmic chopping into the kitchen. Eden stood with her back to him in a simple knee-length, blue knit dress, orange rubber clogs and an apron. Her knife barely stopped moving as she finished one carrot and reached for another. He cleared his throat and she gave a small jump, whirling around, her eyes wide. When she saw it was him, she put the palm of her free hand on her chest and let out a breath. The other held the knife.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, and she smiled self-consciously.
“I’m not usually this jumpy.”
“Nothing wrong with being jumpy,” he said, holding up the brochures. “I brought by some information on the various systems, with the costs noted on them. I made a list of pros and cons so you and your brother can go over them. If you need additional information, then we can get together again before I order.”
“Thanks. You can just set them on the counter, so I don’t forget them when I go home.” She reached up to brush a few tendrils of hair away from her cheek with the back of the hand that held the knife. The rest of her hair was pulled up in a messy yet somehow sexy knot.
He indicated the piles of chopped vegetables in front of her with a movement of his chin. “What are you making?”
“Mirepoix.”
Nick moved his jaw sideways. “Which is?”
“Not as fancy as it sounds,” she said with a smile that made him want to smile back. “Chopped-up veggies that go into a stock. I’ve roasted bones and now I’m going to simmer them in a liquid with chopped onions, carrots and garlic. Later, when Justin gets in, it should be done, and he’ll strain it and put it in the cooler.”
“How long does it simmer?”
“Five hours.”
“Your brother comes to work at ten o’clock?” Good to know.
“He keeps nutty hours,” Eden said with a disapproving quirk of her pretty mouth.
“But you keep normal hours,” Nick said, although he really wanted to know about Justin’s.
“I don’t work at Lake Tahoe. Justin does.”
“That’s quite a drive. His job there makes it worthwhile?”
“He makes desserts at one of the bigger hotels there several days a week. It’s a place where he can indulge his talent and get paid well for it.”
“He’s a pastry chef?”
Eden laughed. “Doesn’t look like one, does he?”
Nick gave a slight snort. “No. So what does he do when he gets here so late?”
Eden walked over to a stainless-steel counter and Nick followed. “He bakes. It works, because a lot of what he makes can be refrigerated until we need it.”
Nick needed to get out of there before Eden got the idea that he was overly interested in the Tremont family business.
He was about to say, “Give me a call after you look over the brochures,” when she leaned back against the counter, wiping her hands on a small towel. “Lois seems to think there may be issues using a chef’s knife in this week’s lesson. That some of the guys might not have the strength in their wrists and hands to use one correctly.” She folded the towel and then looked up at him. “Would Gabe have trouble holding a knife the right way?”
“I don’t think so.” His grandfather seemed quite competent with all manner of weaponry. But Nick had to add, “I didn’t even know there was a correct way to hold a knife. Don’t you just grab the handle?”
Eden looked up at the ceiling in a way that answered his question.
“Wait here.” She crossed the kitchen and reached into a bin at the far side, pulling out two large brown onions the size of baseballs. When she returned, she put them on the counter, side by side, then slid a cutting board in front of her before taking a largish knife off a magnetic holder. “Show me how you hold a knife.”
Nick grasped the handle, extended his forefinger along the top of the carbon blade and prepared to chop, slice and dice.
“No.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”
She put her hand over his, making his nerves jump at the contact with her warm palm as she moved his finger to one side of the blade and his thumb to the other, so he was pinching the steel while his palm rested on the wooden handle. It felt surprisingly natural. He’d never thought about holding a knife that way.
“Use the tip for small cuts, the back part for larger, and I think you probably know how to slice.”
“Oh, I’m a slicing maniac.”
“Okay. Slice that onion.”
He picked it up and held it in his palm. “Peel it first?” She simply nodded, and he peeled the damn thing, feeling ridiculously awkward, as if his fingers were too big. He’d always hated peeling onions, and never used them unless he was making fried onions to go on top of his steak. Once he was done peeling, he placed the onion on the cutting board and began to slice. Nice thick, even slices.
“All right,” Eden said. “Now, do you know how to dice?”
“I believe the first step is to plug in the food processor,” he said sagely.
She snorted. “No. Let me show you.” She demonstrated how to dice the onion by resting the tip of the knife on the cutting board and moving the handle up and down in a quick motion.
She diced half the onion, then said, “Now it’s your turn.”
Nick’s movements were decidedly more awkward, maybe because his eyes were stinging from the onion and he could barely see, but he ended up with a pile of pieces. Some chunks were pretty big.
“Now a carrot.” She pulled one out of the bag still sitting on the counter, and held it up.
“Are you game?” They were standing close enough that her shoulder kept touching his arm. And he liked it more than he wanted to. She was small and delicate, yet exuded energy. Plus, she smelled good. Like some kind of spice.
“So very game,” he deadpanned.
There was no special trick to holding a peeler, but Eden showed him how to rest the tip of the carrot on the cutting board and turn it as he peeled. The economy of motion pleased him.
“When you cut anything, keep your fingers curled back and your thumb out of the way. Otherwise your hands will look like mine.” She held up her finger to show him a crisscrossed scar. “Once wasn’t enough for me. Took me two times to learn.”
