Cole nodded. “Don’t blame you. A single mother has to think about that.” He took a bite of coffee cake. “Oh…Kara.” His eyes closed, and when he opened them again, his expression was rapturous. “That’s sinfully delicious. If anything could make me change my mind about getting married again, it would be food.” He seemed to realize how that sounded and looked as if he wished he could take back the words.
“You don’t cook at all?” she asked, deciding to rescue him.
“I can get by, but I never take the trouble. It’s so much easier to get takeout or make a sandwich, or microwave something. And then my aunt has Brad’s family and me over once a week.” He pointed his fork at the cake on his plate. “It’s this kind of thing that I miss—having something really special to eat. Especially when it’s homemade.”
“Thank you. Was your mother a good cook?”
“She was. Then, when she was no longer around to feed our stomachs and our souls, my aunt took over. Aunt Shirley’s great with comfort foods. And she sprinkles her cooking liberally with advice on all sorts of things from my health to my love life—whether I’m hungry for it or not.”
That sounded good to Kara. “It’s nice to have someone who cares.”
“Where’s your family?” he asked. He took another bite of cake, rolling his eyes in pleasure.
She so enjoyed his reaction to her baking that it took her a moment to realize what he’d asked. “Uh…my parents are gone and I have no siblings, no cousins. I’ve made friends at school and they’re wonderful, but not quite the same as family.”
He nodded. “I know what you mean. I tease my aunt about butting into my life, but you’re right. It reminds me that someone cares. And I have my brother, of course. Great guy. And my fellow officers are like a brotherhood for the most part.”
“I imagine matters of life or death keep you pretty close. In my case, it’s more sour notes and rambunctious behavior. We’re allied for the kids, and we have a good principal.”
“Loren Ford?” he asked, his expression skeptical.
She raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”
He nodded. “I went to high school with him. He was known for shooting down everyone else’s ideas. We were on the student council together and it was hard to get anything accomplished when he was involved. He liked things done his way and only his way. And believe me, he wasn’t always right.”
She took offense to that assessment of Loren. “Maybe he was just a…a visionary. He’s done very good things at the school…or so I hear.”
“I didn’t mean to disparage him,” Cole said. “Maybe he’s changed.”
For some reason, his words didn’t mollify her. “I don’t know what he was like back in high school, but as far as I can tell, he’s matured into a fine man and a good administrator.”
“Ah,” he said with a grin. “You have feelings for him.”
She sat up a little straighter. “I do. Respect, admiration, and…and friendship.”
“Hmm,” he said, still watching her. He took another bite of her cake and swallowed. “And he wants more than that from you, doesn’t he?”
That was true, and she wasn’t sure why the fact that he’d guessed would annoy her, but it did. “Why would you think that?” she asked a little tightly.
He didn’t seem to notice her pique. “Because it was typical behavior back then. He always hit on the pretty girls with the nurturing personalities, especially the ones taking home ec.”
“You’re afraid he’s after me for my coffee cake?”
Kara had asked the question in jest, but Cole’s only reaction was a tight smile.
“If he is,” he finally replied, “would you give me an opportunity to better his offer?”
She was exhilarated and infuriated at the same time. “Like an auction?”
“No,” he replied calmly. “But a vulnerable woman shouldn’t be manipulated by a guy who’s learned to deliver lines he thinks women want to hear. Or just…want.”
She gasped indignantly. “Well, give me credit for some intelligence.”
He nodded. “I do. But intelligence isn’t what love is all about, is it.”
“Who’s talking about love?” she demanded. “He just asked me to the Christmas Ball. An invitation I refused, by the way. And how do you know how he treats women, anyway?”
“Word gets around. Let’s just say Loren Ford looks out for number one.”
Kara could not reconcile the school principal with the man Cole described. But guys probably had odd prejudices against each other that women didn’t understand—power issues or old grudges.
On the one hand she was irritated by his remarks about Loren. And the fact she’d defended him probably affected Cole’s opinion of her. On the other hand, she was surprised that he’d brought it up at all. Who she went out with didn’t seem like something he should care about.
And whether he’d been teasing or not, he’d said he wanted a chance to “better Loren’s offer.” Hardly flattering stuff, but definitely an indication of interest.
She was considering how to respond when there was a large crash and the sound of shattering glass.
As she turned, wondering in alarm what on earth was happening, Cole leaned out of his chair and grabbed her arm, dragging her with him to the carpet. His hand cupped her head, pressing her face into his chest as the sound of glass tinkling seemed to go on and on.
When the noise finally stopped, she found that she was lying on top of Cole. Fear, she noticed, was curiously absent in the sensory overload she was experiencing at such intimate contact with him. He, too, seemed unable to move for an instant. Then the cop in him must have taken over and, holding her head, he rolled them and got to his feet.
Kara turned her head toward the French doors and saw that the left one had a giant hole in it. Shards of jagged glass were everywhere.
“Taylor!” she cried suddenly, remembering that her son was out there somewhere.
“Stay down,” Cole ordered, gesturing for her to remain on the carpet.
“But, Taylor—” she began, scrambling to her feet.
Suddenly Mel appeared at the jagged hole, looking longingly at the flat rock on the carpet, but smart enough not to venture over the broken glass.
Taylor appeared, his face framed by the hole, pale and horrified-looking.
Cole pushed himself to his feet and offered Kara a hand up. “Seems your son is the perp,” he said dryly, “and not the victim. What happened, Taylor?”
Taylor looked at him, obviously frightened. “I…I lost the rubber bone somewhere in the bushes….” Taylor pointed behind him to a deep bank of rhododendron. “So…I found this flat rock, and Mel still had fun chasing it, only…” He turned his mortified expression on Kara. “I didn’t mean to do it. I was aiming for the side of the house, but I…missed.”
Kara was as horrified as her son. She couldn’t imagine what replacing the glass would cost. She opened the intact door and pulled her son inside, putting a protective arm around him. “We’ll pay to have it repaired, if you let us know who to call. And we’ll clean up this—”
“I’ll pay for it,” Taylor said anxiously. “I’ve got that money you made me save from my birth—”
“Whoa.” Cole stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
Kara tightened her grip on her son, prepared to intercede if Cole was about to lecture Taylor on the wisdom of playing fetch with a rock. She would handle that part later.
“Don’t tell me neither of you has ever broken a window before?” he said.
“Well…never someone else’s,” Taylor replied.
Kara was too surprised by Cole’s smile, and the amiable tone of his voice to say anything.
“And that’s a door,” Taylor said. “A big one.”
“Not a problem. I know someone who’ll have it repaired by tonight.”
“I’ll pay—” Kara began.
“We’ll talk about it when I get the bill.” He pointed to a door in a small corri
dor off the kitchen. “Vacuum cleaner’s in there. Want to get it? Don’t touch the glass. I’ll vacuum it up.”
“Okay.” Taylor hurried off, relieved to be able to do something about the mess he’d made.
Cole walked Mel inside, around the glass, then led him to the bedroom and closed the door.
Kara got down to pick up the bigger pieces of glass, but Cole caught her wrist to stop her.
“I’ll do that,” he said. “Come with me. You’ve got glass in your hair.” He put a hand over her eyes and led her away. “Keep them closed.”
“Where are we going?” she asked as she walked blindly beside him.
“To the bathroom,” he replied. “Then I’m going to get the Dustbuster.”
“Pardon me?”
“Sit down. I’ll be right back.” He pushed her down on what had to be the lid of the john, and Kara heard his retreating footsteps. Then he was back again.
“Did you say the Dustbuster?” she asked as she heard him move around her.
“Yes.” He was standing behind her. He put a towel around her shoulders and removed the clip that held her hair up. She could feel his knee right beside her hip. “This is how the hospital gets glass out of the hair of victims of motor vehicle accidents.”
Then the Dustbuster roared in her ears and she felt Cole’s fingers comb carefully through her hair. She sat still under his ministrations, unable to believe this was happening to her. She barely knew Cole, but she’d started to fall in love with him on a perch in the Embrace. Now she was sitting in his bathroom while he worked her over with a Dustbuster!
He turned the machine off for a moment, running his fingers through her hair, and she took advantage of the silence.
“Thank you for not being angry,” she said. “Taylor’s never deliberately careless or destructive.”
“I’m sure he isn’t.”
He lifted the hair up off her neck, apparently inspecting it. She could feel his breath against her skin.
“It was an accident,” he said.
“You…probably…shouldn’t eat the coffee cake on the table,” she said, having a little difficulty focusing. “There could be glass in it.”
“Okay—”
The roaring noise began again and she felt the little vacuum against her temples.
When he stopped again to move around her, she said quickly, “And you should empty the dog food bowl. There could be glass in it, too.”
“Right.” He vacuumed her hair a little longer, then handed Kara her purse, which he’d carried in with him. “Dig out your comb and I’ll run it through your hair,” he said. “Then we’ll go over your sweater.”
She did as he asked, and he combed gingerly through her now seriously disheveled hair. The proximity of his body to hers and the sensation created by his gentle ministrations were delightful. Pretending that she was unaffected was hard work.
The combing finished, he moved on to vacuum her shoulders and the back of her sweater. “You do the front,” he said, handing her the machine, “while I check on Taylor and Mel.”
Kara needed a moment to pull herself together. She stood alone in the now quiet bathroom, listening to the conversation taking place in the dining room. She drew a deep breath and expelled it raggedly. There was definitely something to be said for being the focal point of Cole Winslow’s attention. This was the second time it had happened to her, and she was developing a real taste for it.
Taylor appeared in the doorway. “Mom? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Taylor,” she assured him. “Did Cole clean up the glass?”
“Yeah. And guess what?” He was excited about something.
“What?”
“He says I can work off the cost of the door by exercising Mel! And I can come anytime.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. As long as he’s home. Isn’t that cool?”
It was. “Did you say thank you?”
Taylor rolled his eyes. He was doing that more and more lately.
“Yes, I said thank you.” His expression brightened again. “I can’t believe he wasn’t mad about the door. Not even a little. I didn’t do it on purpose, but it was really messy. And it’s going to cost him money.”
Money and the careful expenditure of it were well respected at their house.
“He understands you didn’t mean to do it,” she said. “Because he’s a very nice man.”
“Whew!” Taylor said expressively. “That’s lucky for me.”
And might not be bad for me, either, Kara thought. She carried the Dustbuster out into the living room, Taylor right behind her. Cole had finished with the standard vacuum. He’d let Mel out of the bedroom and was checking his paws. Judging by the way the dog wagged his tail and pretended to bite Cole’s hand, Kara concluded his paws were glass-free.
Cole ruffled the dog’s ears and let him go. “I’m happy to report that we have no casualties from the experience,” he said, getting to his feet. “And the door will be replaced tonight.”
“Is that going to cost you overtime?” Kara asked with a wince.
He shook his head. “I called a friend. I chose his security system and helped put it in, so all I have to do is pay for the glass. He’ll provide the labor.”
“Nice to have friends in the right places.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Again,” she said with a sigh, “I’m so sorry, and I appreciate your being so nice about it. I’m accustomed to more dramatic types.” Her husband had considered everything that went wrong a disaster.
Cole shrugged. “I see a lot of real tragedy. In the scope of things, a little broken glass is of no real consequence.”
His reaction was so wonderfully sane. The financially and emotionally treacherous world she’d occupied for so long seemed suddenly a bit brighter. She had to pay him back.
He put the vacuum cleaner back in its closet, and as he passed the stack of gifts, protected from the spray of glass by a little alcove, she had a sudden inspiration.
“What are you doing Saturday?” she blurted.
Cole glanced at Taylor, who was on the floor with Mel and completely occupied with a squeak toy. His eyebrow quirked up speculatively. “What did you have in mind?”
Ignoring the little riot his look caused inside her, she explained, “My choral group is wrapping gifts this weekend at the mall. I’m to be there all day Saturday and can have everything wrapped for you. My way of paying you back—at least, a little.”
He smiled in appreciation. “Even the skis?”
“Even the skis. Though disguising them might be tricky.”
“You’re on,” he said. “What time?”
“Anytime. I’ll be there from ten to five.”
“Wow. Long day.”
She nodded. “The kids are great, but they need supervision, and it’s a busy time of year to expect parents to help. We’re trying to raise money to go to a choral competition in Seattle this spring.”
“All right. I’ll talk it up at the department.”
“Cole…” Taylor sat back on his knees and scratched Mel’s tummy, looked around in consternation. “Where’s your Christmas tree?”
“A tree’s a lot of trouble just for me,” Cole replied. “I don’t bother with one.”
Taylor was aghast. “No tree? But it isn’t Christmas without a tree. And where are you going to put the presents?”
“There’s a tree at the station,” Cole said reasonably, a little taken aback by Taylor’s reaction. “It’s all right. I mean, I don’t really—”
“You have to have a tree!” Taylor insisted. “Where’ll you put the stuff people bring you?”
“Well, I don’t get that much—”
“’Cause you don’t have a tree!”
Cole folded his arms, pretending to be serious when he was clearly amused. “So, that’s what’s doing it. I thought people just didn’t like me.” He turned to Kara. “What do you think?”
“Taylor’s right,” she said.
“You should have a tree. The fragrance, the lights, the whole spirit of the thing is important to put you in the mood for the season.”
He didn’t want to rain on her parade, but in his experience, domestic violence and theft increased over the holidays, and observing the homeless was even more heartbreaking. It was sometimes hard for him to get in the Christmas spirit.
“There’re trees at the mall,” Taylor said helpfully. “Mom and I can help you find the perfect one.”
“I don’t have any ornaments.”
“Mom’s good at that. Aren’t you, Mom.”
Kara nodded. “And I owe you. I can share some ornaments, and my students are helping me make some for the music room. I might be able to sneak a few for you.”
“OKAY, THEN.” Cole didn’t think much Christmas spirit could be sparked in him, but resisting Kara and Taylor’s eagerness to help him would have been like kicking two of Santa’s elves. “While you’re wrapping, Taylor and I will find a tree,” he told Kara. “And he can help me find a present for Blaine. Then, when you’re finished for the day, you and Taylor can help me put up the tree.”
“Good.” Kara went to look over his pile of gifts.
She’d combed her hair into order, but Cole could still feel the silken threads of it in his fingers, smell the fresh fragrance of her shampoo. Being so close to her had reminded him of her rescue and made his heart race. It hadn’t raced over a woman in years.
She turned to smile at him. “I might be able to get a tube for the skis from the furniture store in the mall. The rollers from carpets are sturdy and long enough, I think.”
“Good idea.”
“Well.” She beckoned Taylor to her. “We’d better go. Thank you for the coffee. Don’t forget to empty the dog dish.”
“Right. You’re welcome. Sure you don’t want to take the rest of the cake home?”
Blown Away Page 6
