by Jeannie Watt
“Right,” he said, with a lift of his eyebrows. “Curled back.” He tried it out and Eden nodded. She showed him her slicing technique next, starting slowly, then increasing in speed until the carrot was whacked into incredible even slices in little more than a blink of an eye.
Shit. He’d hate to meet her in a dark alley with a knife.
“I guess I can see how you got those scars.”
“Yes. I was in school, actually. A lot of blood flows in culinary school.”
“I’d never thought about that.”
“Fact of life,” she said, once again brushing stray hairs off her forehead with the back of her wrist. “Now the celery.”
Nick had never in his life thought he’d be embarrassed about the way he cut vegetables, but he wasn’t exactly proud of the clumsily chopped celery he presented to Eden to toss into the pot of liquid. “Kind of amateurish,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied dismissively. “It’ll get strained out. It’s just a good way to practice cutting evenly for when it does matter.”
“When is that?”
“Soups, stews, any number of dishes where the vegetables are eaten instead of strained out of the stock.” She looked around at the counter. “I’m done. Thanks for the help.”
He smiled. Maybe for the first time since he’d gotten there. “Yes. I was a big help. Thanks for the lesson. And give me a call once you and Justin have gone over the brochures.”
After he got to his SUV, he paused for a moment before starting the engine. What was going on here? Eden was coming on to him—gently—but damned if he wasn’t getting into it.
Two years of celibacy, and wasn’t it just his luck that the first woman he’d felt a lick of interest in was a subject in an investigation?
CHAPTER SEVEN
“YOU GAVE him a lesson here alone?” Patty asked in a shocked voice.
“I checked him out with Reno PD,” Eden said, more irritated than she wanted to be by Patty’s attitude.
“You did?”
“Yes. He worked there until recently and is no longer active.” Almost the exact words she’d been told.
Patty gave a humph as she digested that bit of information.
“Well,” she said with a sniff, “I still think you should have someone with you in the building.”
“You’re right,” Eden said. But she was going to do as she damned well pleased.
She sat down at her desk and started writing thank-you notes for the previous week’s events. Later she would enclose evaluation sheets with folded self-addressed envelopes. After that she had to call the Ballards and get the final okay on the birthday menu, call a wedding planner concerning a possible menu substitution, and then she was free to go home. Early. Curl up with a cup of hot tea and read about alarm systems.
Her mouth tilted grimly. Lovely way to spend her first free evening in weeks.
DAPHNE WAS HELL on the shooting range, and when Nick shot with her, she invariably showed him up—as she was doing today. A lot of the guys in the department were intimidated by her, though they’d rather take a bullet in the leg than admit it. She didn’t bother Nick, though. She reminded him of his mother.
After range practice, Daphne offered to buy coffee so they could talk without Marcus happening upon them. She’d once said that she thought he’d put a tracking device on her purse, because no matter where she tried to eat lunch, he’d show up. Frankly, after the rock incident, Nick wouldn’t have been surprised.
They both ordered large coffees, black, and Daphne paid, since it was her turn.
“How’s your grandpa?” she asked as she waited for her change.
“He’s fine.”
Daphne tossed the coins into the tip jar, then led the way to an isolated table. “Do you think the lessons will work out?”
“I think they’ll give me an opportunity to get into their offices, and thanks to Marcus and the rock, I’ll also have access to her house.” Nick took a sip of coffee and grimaced.
“That was a brilliant move on his part,” Daphne said musingly, holding her coffee just below her mouth as she waited for it to cool slightly.
“He’s doing it to impress you.”
“It’s working,” Daphne said, taking a drink of the bitter brew without flinching. “I’m impressed that he was such a jerk. But I draw the line at letting him have his way with me.”
“If you’d just tell him that, it’d save us both a lot of grief.”
Daphne set down her cup. “Short of carving it into my forehead, what do you want me to do?”
“Carve it into his forehead?”
She laughed. “Do not tempt me.”
“Speaking of carving, did you know there’s a special way to hold a chef’s knife?” Nick took a second taste of the coffee. It’d definitely been on the burner too long. Worse even than the stuff at the precinct.
“I didn’t even know there was a designated chef’s knife.” Daphne cooked about as often as Nick did.
“It’s the long triangular one. Eden taught me how to use it today.
“How’d you do?”
“Not so good.”
“Ah.” His partner readjusted the lid on her coffee, which had leaked down the seam. “Anything else, beyond you sucking? Like any signs of conspicuous consumption?”
“They have a lot of fancy stainless-steel equipment and at least one stove is new, but I don’t know if it all belongs to Tremont or to Tyler Corp, which owns the building. The catering van is brand-new. Tremont,” he said, meaning Justin, “has a very nice Firebird. Classic. Eden said that they won some kind of a culinary contest last year and that business really picked up after that.”
“How about Eden’s house?”
He gave a small shrug. “No great shakes.” But a hell of a lot nicer than his place. “Lots of clothes, and she stores her brother’s toys for him.”
“What kind of toys?”
“Skis, kayak. That kind of stuff. Normal guy stuff. There’s nothing that shouts out conspicuous consumption.” Which meant jack. “When I install the security system, I should be able to get a better feel for things.”
“Good luck with that system,” Daphne said before taking a big swallow of coffee. The woman was impervious to acid.
“Piece of cake,” Nick said.
“Your next lesson is tomorrow?”
“Yeah. And I’m going to see if I can get to the computer while she’s busy with the old guys.” The download would take time, but he’d see what he could swing. “Last week they kept her hopping the entire time, so I may get lucky. The old guys are supposed to use knives, and she may have her hands full.” He smiled slightly. “You should see her use a knife. It’s kind of impressive.”
“You might want to keep that in mind in case you end up arresting her,” Daphne said.
EDEN ULTIMATELY CHOSE a security system that Nick could buy locally, and it was also one with a minimal amount of wiring. Two points in his favor. Now if he could just get the darn thing installed.
He’d bought a tool belt, which creaked because it was so new, making him very glad that he’d been up front about not being in the business for long. After going through the boxes, and figuring out what was what, he concluded that the system was the least of his worries. It was those damned sensor lights that concerned him.
Fortunately, there were many online videos that showed how to wire lights—a simple matter of disconnecting the old one and reconnecting the new using the existing wiring. It seemed a simple enough task, as long as there were no surprises. Surprises concerned him.
He’d also watched video clips on installing the locks and mounting the motion sensor lights. Again, not that complicated, and he could always bring the videos up on his phone if he needed a quick refresher. Thankfully, Eden had to work that day, so she wouldn’t have the thrill of watching him try to figure out how to chisel out the wood for a dead bolt. That would also make it a whole lot easier to hack into her computer and copy her files.
Thanks to a few lessons from Marcus several months ago, and a special startup disk, Nick was competent in that particular area. He just hoped she didn’t have any encrypted files.
NICK ARRIVED AT her door exactly at eight o’clock. Eden liked promptness in a man. There were other things she liked about Nick, too. His devotion to his grandfather for one.
Gabe spent a lot of time growling and barking during cooking lessons, and Nick let it roll off his back. Eden probably watched the two of them more than she should, but Nick drew her eye. And since she wasn’t letting that jerk Ian and his underhanded ways upset her life, or her faith in men, she was indulging herself.
Nick did border on eye candy. Tall and broad shouldered, with close-cropped dark hair. And those green eyes.
Yes. Indulgence was good.
She smiled up at him as she opened the door. “How are you this morning?”
He raised the box he held in front of him. “Ready to make your home as safe as it can be.”
“And how long will that take?” she said as she stepped back so he could carry it inside.
“I’m not certain.” He set down the box and rubbed the side of his face. “With rewiring the lights and putting on the locks…hours?”
Eden almost asked if she was paying him enough. The price they’d settled on seemed low. But he’d set it, so she was going with it.
“How’s your grandfather?” she asked as she gathered her purse and sweater.
“I believe the word is irascible.”
“I like him.” Eden put an arm into the sweater and Nick automatically reached out and held the garment for her as she slipped her other arm inside. “Thank you,” she said, before adding, “We talked a bit at the last lesson while you were out at your car.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “I’m certain he charmed your socks off.”
Eden laughed. “We talked about you.”
His expression shifted toward wariness. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t matchmaking. He said that he was taking these lessons only so you’d learn to cook healthy food and not have a heart attack.”
This smile, unlike his earlier polite ones, reached his eyes, crinkling the corners, transforming his face. Damn.
“I left my number on the notepad on the kitchen counter in case you need me.”
“Great.” He held the door for her and then walked with her as far as his SUV, which he’d parked on the street behind her car. “I’ll give you a call to set up a time tonight or tomorrow to go over the operation of the system.”
“Sounds good,” she called, getting into her car. She hummed to herself as she started the engine, watching Nick in the rearview mirror.
Hot guy.
Confidence builder.
THE FIRST ORDER of business was to get at the computer. She only had one, a desktop in her bedroom. Nick powered it up and inserted the startup disk that would allow him to bypass her password. As soon as he had access, he downloaded the files onto the memory stick. While the little light at the end of the stick blinked, he went back into the living room and begin unpacking boxes, thinking about Eden.
He honestly hoped she wasn’t involved in any kind of a crime. He’d run the vehicle identification number on her brother’s Firebird, which Nick had gotten the night of the cooking lesson, and found that he’d bought it locally from a guy who ran the entertainment segment for the Cassandra Hotel chain, which included the Tahoe Summit. He didn’t know if it was paid for in cash, as drug dealers tended to do, or whether Justin had financed it.
Nick hoped the purchase was aboveboard and financed, and that bothered him. Staying removed from his subjects allowed him to view evidence dispassionately, to not be swayed by emotion. Right now he was being swayed.
Not good.
A few minutes later he pocketed the memory stick. The reason he’d come here was accomplished. Now for all the bullshit he needed to do to cover his tracks.
He started with the security system, since he wanted to get that up and running first. Installation was just as easy and uneventful as the instructions had promised. He drilled a few holes for mounting and to run the wiring through, clamped the monitor onto the bracket and voilà—it looked as if a pro had done it. Next came the window locks and then he’d mount the sensors.
Fortunately, Eden lived in a small house without that many windows, so drilling holes in the sashes for the dead bolts was also easier than he’d thought it would be. Maybe this could be his second career. If he didn’t start getting along with the lieutenant, it might well be his main one.
He worked his way through the house, finishing in her bedroom. There was a pile of silky underwear and nightgowns under the window and he edged it aside with the toe of his shoe, only to hit something hard. And flat. He leaned down to push the clothing aside.
A laptop.
Shit.
Nick went back to the front room to retrieve the startup disk, glad he’d stumbled upon the second computer, and feeling a bit stupid for not finding it earlier. He’d checked all the usual places. Areas around chairs and beds, on desks and tables, near outlets. Looking under a pile of lingerie hadn’t occurred to him. In fact, he’d avoided the heap.
He powered up the machine, put in the disk and started the download. Once he made sure it was working, he raised the drill to finish the two windows in her bedroom. He’d just started his second-to-last hole when the sound of the front door opening and closing startled the piss out of him, and the drill slipped, raking down the edge of his hand.
“Nick? It’s me.”
Eden. Holy…
He dumped the lingerie back on the laptop without closing the lid, since he didn’t know if the download was complete, arranging the pile as best he could before starting for the kitchen to intercept her. He just hoped the silk undies didn’t catch fire from the heat of the machine.
“UH, HI,” NICK said, coming into the kitchen from the hall at the same time Eden entered from the living room. “I didn’t expect you back until later.”
“Yeah, I know.” She put her purse down on the table. “Justin is covering for me on his day off.”
Nick cocked his head. “Doesn’t sound like much of a day off.”
Eden laughed and lifted the canvas bag she carried onto the counter. “Cooks cook.”
“That’s the way it is with you?” he asked.
“Mmm-hmm. Which is why I’m going to make you lunch.”
An odd expression played over Nick’s face. “Oh, no. You don’t have to—”
Eden walked across the kitchen to where he stood with a hammer in one hand and a drill in the other, stopping a couple feet in front of him and facing off like a gunfighter. “Cooks cook. And they love it. I’m cooking for you.”
He swallowed. “All right. Since it seems that there’s no stopping you.”
“There isn’t,” she assured him. She looked down at his hand. “Are you bleeding?”
“It’s nothing,” he said. “The drill slipped. Stupid of me.”
“Let me get you a Band-Aid.”
“No. I have one in my tool kit. I’ll go get it. Don’t want to drip on your floor.” He smiled at her, then quickly turned and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom, where he must have been working.
Eden pulled the fresh produce out of the bag along with a baguette and a tin of tuna fish. She peeled and crushed a couple cloves of garlic, placed them in a glass dish and covered them with olive oil.
Once the oil was being flavored, she went to inspect the security system’s control panel next to her pantry door. It looked very high-tech and intimidating. She reached out to run a finger over the panel. In a way she was sad that her life had come to this—alarms and such—but better safe and a touch sad than sorry.
Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall and Nick walked into the room, a bandage on his finger.
“Is this easy to use?” she asked.
“Very simple.” He came over to stand close t
o her. “You press a code to arm it and a code to disarm. You have a delay, so you can do it after coming into the house. I don’t have the sensors mounted yet. I’m working on the dead bolts.”
She shrugged. “Well, don’t let me slow you down. I’ll make lunch and let you know when it’s ready.”
THE MEMORY STICK was deep in Nick’s pocket, the startup disk in one of the boxes he was about to carry out to the SUV. He just hoped Eden didn’t try to use her computer in the next few minutes, or she might notice how hot it was from running while sitting under a pile of silky underwear.
He decided to abandon the window locks for now, while the computer cooled, and work in the kitchen, installing the dead bolt in the back door. He pulled the instructions from his pocket and took a look while he was outside, then went back into the kitchen with his drill and a chisel in one hand, the lock in the other. Mark the faceplate. Drill holes. Mark where the dead bolt will protrude from edge of door, drill and chisel.
He mentally repeated the instructions one more time. They really weren’t that difficult and the diagrams were quite clear. Piece of cake.
Eden was pulling the soft part of the bread out of a long loaf, leaving only the crust, when he walked into the kitchen. She dumped the bread in the trash.
“I would have eaten that,” he said, opening the back door. No remnant dead bolt hole from an earlier lock. Damn.
“The sandwich will be better.” She started brushing oil over the crust, then spreading tuna down the loaf. Nick stopped and watched.
“What’re you making? The world’s longest tuna sandwich?”
She smiled without looking up. “I am. It’s called pan bagnat.”
“Which is French for long tuna fish sandwich?” He took the pencil out of his shirt pocket and drew around the faceplate.
“Close. I think it has more to do with the Niçoise olives.”
“Nee-swahz olives,” he echoed pompously, pulling the chisel out of his tool belt.
