“I haven’t...” He looked up.
Samantha tried not to smile, but it escaped anyhow.
“Very funny.” His eyes laughed with her, crinkling at the corners.
“Want some help unpacking?” she asked, pulling herself up onto a lone stool.
“Unpacking what?”
“Those most interesting boxes,” she said, her gaze scanning the orderly pile of boxes visible from the kitchen.
“They’re plain moving boxes.”
“But inside,” she said, her voice lowering to what she hoped sounded mysterious and throaty. “Inside are the keys to the man.”
“Got a real vivid imagination. Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Bet it gets you in trouble. Often,” he said.
“Do you want some help or not?”
Judd shrugged. “Hadn’t planned on opening them any time soon.”
“Then why did you send for them?” she asked, swinging her legs back and forth.
For a long moment he remained motionless, as if hypnotized by the motion of her legs.
Samantha stopped moving as a curious warmth spread through her.
“Good question. Seemed like the thing to do.” Opening the dishwasher, he pulled out a mug.
“Seemed like?” Sam sputtered. “Actually, the normal thing to do, would be—”
“Never said I was normal,” he interrupted, filling the mug with coffee and offering it to her.
“No, I can see that. Have you got any sugar?”
“Sugar? What do you need sugar for?”
“I always take sugar,” she said as he rummaged through the cupboards. “A little cream, too.”
“You haven’t even tasted it yet. The beans are imported, and they were freshly ground and brewed not fifteen minutes ago.”
“Please?”
Judd groaned and pulled open the cupboard. He tossed a five-pound bag of sugar onto the counter next to her then moved to open the refrigerator.
“Thanks. I don’t use quite that much.
“Chung brought it up. He uses sugar too. Don’t have cream,” he muttered, head in the refrigerator. “Only milk.”
“That’ll do.”
Frowning, he handed her the milk carton and cringed as she poured a liberal amount into the cup. Samantha sipped her coffee, watching the unlikely picture he made sponging the counter with a tea towel draped over his shoulder.
She hopped off the counter and sauntered into the living room with her mug.
“This room has so many possibilities. What kind of look are you going for?”
“Early dormitory?”
Samantha laughed. “No. Really.”
“How’s that coffee?”
“Actually, it’s really good.”
“The best.”
“Mr. Chung says you collect coffee in your travels.”
Judd didn’t answer; instead, he intently polished the espresso machine.
Apparently he didn’t get the whole conversation thing. She sort of admired him. If only she could remember that an answer wasn’t obligatory when she was with her family.
Samantha took another drink from the mug and looked around. What a shame. What potential this room alone had. Her eyes swept across the windows to the boxes. The label on the largest box caught her attention. “Washington D.C.? Is that where you’re from?”
“My last stop.” He leaned against the wall, one hand shoved into his back pocket.
“Your last job?”
“One of them.”
“Oh. So, you’re—”
“Between jobs.” He lifted his cup and downed the liquid. Staring into the empty mug a moment, he raised his head, his eyes meeting hers. “More?”
Yes, she’d like to know a lot more. To him she answered, “A little.”
He reached for her cup.
She held it firmly by the handle. “So where did you say you’re from?”
The corners of his mouth inched into a grudging smile. “Did I say?”
She released her hold on the cup, and he accepted it, turning to the kitchen.
“Maryland.”
“What?” she asked, though she heard it plainly enough.
“I’m from Baltimore, Maryland.”
Samantha moved over to one of the big windows in the living room. Baltimore? Well, it was a start. Why was the man so reticent?
“I didn’t realize you could see all the way to Murphy’s Peak from here,” she said, taking in the view from the same window where he’d watched her earlier in the week. The full moon illuminated the night sky. “Oh, and look, you can see the Christmas lights on the town hall.”
“Murphy’s Peak?” Before he even spoke, the heat of his presence told her he stood behind her. Samantha involuntarily shivered. “Look straight ahead—over the top of that brown building with the lights. See that peak? We used to go hiking out there in the summer.”
“We?”
“The family.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Most of my life,” she answered, looking out at the lights sparkling over the town. “It’s a nice little town. Not too small and not too big, and close enough to Denver that you don’t feel isolated.”
He nodded. “How long have you lived in this building?”
“A year. I moved back home last year.”
“Kind of an unusual place for a single woman isn’t it?”
She turned and grinned. “For a single guy, maybe. But this was the only place that passed the majority rule.”
He lifted a dark brow as he passed her back the coffee cup. “What?”
“Majority rule. It’s the way we do business. The way we take care of each other. This was the only place I could get all of my brothers to approve.”
“Interesting concept,” he replied.
“No. Not a concept. Family.”
Samantha’s gaze returned to the dark sky. Judd was reflected in the glass as he stood behind her. Assessing the dark shadow of his stubble, the rigid muscles in his jaw, she tried to unravel the mystery of the man as he stared into the night. Then his gaze moved to her.
“Why’d you move back here?” The words were uttered softly.
She took a deep breath. “My twin brother and my father died within months of each other. I needed to be home with my family.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” Her words sounded hollow. The only way the wounds from losing your best friend and your father got better was by hanging on tight to those that were left and never letting them go.
“Really. I am sorry.”
Samantha turned and searched his face.
Did he understand?
She was staggered by the pain that flashed in his eyes for the briefest of moments. Her hand trembled with the rising urge to comfort him. It was ridiculous. She hardly knew Judd Mason. Yet she couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t break from his gaze.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped away.
“It’s late. Thanks for the coffee. I should go.” Turning quickly, she bumped into a box, sloshing liquid over her hand and saturating the brown cardboard as well.
She winced at the sting of the hot liquid and then looked down. “Oh, no, I’ve made a mess.”
“It’s okay,” he soothed. Taking the cup from her, he placed it on the floor. He pulled the towel off his shoulder and dried her hand, examining her skin with gentle fingers. “Let’s run some cold water over this.”
His shirt brushed her shoulder as he held her hand under the chilling stream of the faucet. His face was inches from hers as he peered at her injury with real concern.
“I’m okay,” she said, desperate to separate herself from the intimate proximity.
“Let me look.” Again, he ministered to her hand, patting the skin dry with the towel. “Red, but no signs of blistering.”
“Thank you,” she said as he released her. Heading toward the door, she passed the doused box. Instinctively, she bent to examine the
soggy cardboard. “I hope I didn’t damage anything in there.”
He was suddenly at her side, his palm holding the flap down “Nothing important.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get your shorts twisted.” She stood.
“Oh, my shorts aren’t twisted—yet,” he said, with a wink. “But, I’ll let you know when they are.”
Samantha smiled sweetly. “You do that.”
Aware of his gaze following her, she paused and turned. “Good-night, Mr. Mason. I’ll leave you to your secrets.”
3
Judd was ready to hurt someone.
He shoved the pillow over his head, smashing his face down into the thin, nothing mattress.
It didn’t help.
The pounding had started ten minutes ago and grew louder and more annoying as the minutes ticked by. He rolled over on the narrow cot and landed on the floor. His thoughts made an immediate detour to the monster bed downstairs and then followed a logical sequence to Samantha.
Forget sleep.
Grabbing the sheet, he tossed it on the cot and shoved his legs into his jeans before he stalked out to the hall.
A red-headed midget pounded intently on Samantha’s doorframe with a hammer.“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Judd bellowed.
The kid looked up, a boy of no more than seven or eight. His freckled face paled with fear.
“Aunt Samantha!” he screamed, dropping the hammer and scrambling into her apartment on skinny legs.
Samantha appeared. Her gaze followed the trembling finger of the child who now cowered behind her.
“You scared Danny to death.”
“He woke me up,” Judd growled, pointing back at the kid.
She nudged the boy back into the apartment and then faced Judd with a grin.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked. “It’s eight-thirty in the morning. I know for a fact you didn’t get to bed before one.”
“Let me guess.” She chuckled. “Not a morning person?”
No, and today he was more than his usual cranky self. So why did she looked so perky? He added that to her list of offenses. Even with her hair in a careless ponytail and wearing a baggy sweater and jeans, she looked good. Must be that ridiculous bed of hers.
Judd required at least an hour of silence each morning, accompanied by long intervals of grunting. After that he downed a generous dose of strong, black java before he even considered the possibility of good humor. “Why was he banging?”
“He’s fixing my door.”
“Doesn’t look like he’s fixing anything. Wasn’t Cush going to take care of the door?”
“Funny you should mention Cush,” Samantha said. She flashed him a peculiar little smile, which should have been warning enough to head back into his apartment and deadbolt the door. “She’s gone to a pinochle convention. I drove her to the airport this morning, and we talked about your situation.”
His eyeballs strained in their sockets. “My what?”
Samantha shrugged. “I explained how you’re between jobs.” She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and moved up the stairs, offering it to him.
Judd backed up, resisting the distinct urge to hold up two fingers to form a cross. “What is it?”
“A list of things for you to do.”
“Do? Do what?” The blood rushed to his head. He snatched the paper from her fingers, careful not to touch her. Shaking it open with one hand, he read the chicken scratch.
“Oh, and I talked to my family this morning,” Samantha said.
Judd gripped the banister as she continued to talk.
“We could use some help down at the restaurant. Things get really busy with the holiday rush.”
His head jerked up and he stared. Wait just a minute. Who was in charge here? Not him, but this one-woman steamroller. In less than eight hours she’d gotten him not one, but two jobs.
Yeah, and maybe if he had some free time he could finish the investigation. The way things were going, he’d be living here until Samantha’s red hair turned gray.
“You’re welcome,” she sing-songed, her big hazel eyes staring at him.
He grunted and turned away. It was impossible to think clearly without caffeine surging through his veins.
“Judd?” Samantha called out on a soft breath.
At the sound of her throaty whisper, he looked back, like he had a chain around his neck and she’d just yanked.
A thick set of keys jangled as they flew through the air toward him. Judd scrambled to catch them.
“Cush’s keys.” Her amusement echoed through the hallway.
Yeah, she had yanked his chain all right. For now, retreat was in order.
Surely any idiot could figure out why a toilet was running. Judd lifted the tank cover and stood eyeing the workings of Garfield Chung’s toilet.
Couldn’t they?
He hadn’t spent much time with his hand inside a toilet tank. Actually, he’d never had his hand inside a toilet before. Gritting his teeth, he plunged his fingers into the water. Freezing cold water.
Not a one of the submerged mechanisms were recognizable. When in doubt, jiggle.
He jiggled everything he could find. Miraculously, the water stopped running. Pulling his hand back out, he dried his fingers on the back of his jeans. Amazing what a guy could do with two cups of Columbian under his belt.
While Judd gathered his tools, Mr. Chung inspected the completed job and then followed Judd into the hall.
“For you.” The short-statured man presented him with a loaf of homemade bread and pronounced the toilet a huge success. Judd was helpless to stop a foolish grin as he held the loaf in one hand.
One toilet fixed. Check.
He could handle this gig. After all, he was an acknowledged expert in computer security analysis. Ten years ago after graduation from MIT, Charlie Bogdonovich had recruited him. Under Charlie’s tutelage, he’d worked on some of the most complex systems in the world, from Beirut to Istanbul.
So, yeah, he could fix a few screws. And there were plenty of loose screws around this place that needed to be fixed, though he promised himself he wouldn’t be around long enough to deal with all of them. The handyman title wasn’t without certain benefits. He tossed the fat circle of keys up into the air with one hand and caught them. Now that he had free reign of the place, there’d be plenty of opportunity to nose around Samantha’s apartment and find out what she was doing with that computer.
He stood in the hall, going over the rest of Cush’s list. All he needed was to find a hardware store and pick up supplies.
The front screen door opened then banged shut with a thud. Judd scribbled “front door” on his paper. Heavy feet bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time.
A redheaded Paul Bunyan, complete with bushy beard, appeared on the landing. Judd recognized Michael McBride from surveillance.
“Mason?”
Judd nodded in affirmation and stretched out his hand. “Just a wild hunch here, but you’re Samantha’s brother?”
Michael snorted as he shook the proffered hand. “It was the red hair, right?”
“That, and you look just like that kid in Samantha’s apartment.”
“You’ve met my nephew?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Judd answered.
“So, Sam tells me you can help us out at the pub?”
“Your sister is big into orchestrating other people’s lives, isn’t she?”
Michael grinned as he slowly nodded his head. “Definitely. That’s her job. Sammy always has a cause. I hang around to make sure she never gets hurt.”
Message received. Loud and clear. He nodded and met Michael’s gaze. “I’m not sure I like being her latest cause,” Judd returned.
“You think there’s anything you can do about it?” Michael laughed.
Judd shrugged. Point no doubt well taken.
“Come on down Monday morning and we’ll talk some more. Sammy says you know computers. We could use some he
lp getting our new system up and running. The old one is barely breathing.”
Judd frowned. How had she come to that conclusion?
“You do know computers, don’t you?” Michael narrowed his eyes.
“Oh yeah, I know computers. I’ll be there.”
“Uncle Mike.” The pint sized McBride raced out of Samantha’s apartment and crashed into his uncle’s legs, then glared at Judd.
“Hey, squirt,” Michael said with warmth, tugging the bill of Danny’s ball cap down. “You ready to go?”
“Hold it.” Samantha appeared in the hallway. “You turned on my computer. Get back in there and shut it down.”
“Aw, Aunt Samantha,” Danny moaned.
“Come on, Sport, better do it,” Michael said. “We have a date at the Primate House.”
“Achoo!” The loud sneeze erupted from Samantha. Two more sneezes followed the first in rapid-fire succession. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth. “Excuse me.”
“Bless you,” all three males said in unison.
Samantha laughed. “Thank you.”
“You catching Mom’s cold, Sam?”
“I hope not,” she answered as Danny returned.
Michael gave Judd a parting nod.
Danny’s giggles could still be heard as Judd moved up the stairs. He’d been about Danny’s age when he lost his parents. The aunt and uncle who grudgingly took him in were nothing like the McBrides, whose affection seemed bottomless.
From the birds-eye view of his window, Judd sipped another cup of coffee and observed Michael and Danny leaving. A playful game of tag ensued as the two raced down the street.
Judd turned away. Grabbing his wallet from the counter, he strode out of his apartment and pounded back down the stairway. Thoughts of the past chased him as he moved. When Samantha and a large basket of laundry appeared outside her door, he was moving way too fast to stop.
The collision was immediate. Pink terrycloth exploded into the corridor.
“You all right?” He reached for the toppled basket and began gathering towels.
Samantha leaned against the wall, her face revealing momentary confusion, then irritation. “Judd, you’ve got to slow down. At that speed, you might have killed one of the other tenants.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
She scrunched her eyebrows and stared at him.
The Christmas Angel (The McBride Series Book 1) Page 3
