“What I propose is for the next couple of weeks we keep things running as usual.” Melissa looked at Sam. “You’ve been with Bill since he opened the business. I’d like you to take over the position of manager.”
Sam nodded, the wrinkles in his face easing somewhat as he realized they weren’t being handed their walking papers.
“So, we show up for work tomorrow morning just like usual?” Neal asked.
“Just like usual,” Melissa agreed. “And I’ll see that you all are paid for the work missed in the last couple of days.”
“Great.” Mike looked at his wristwatch. “Now I gotta go,” he said as he flashed her a cocky smile. “I’ve got a hot date, and the lady hates it when I’m late.” Without waiting for a reply, the young man left.
Neal Cook stood and raked a hand through his gray-laced sandy hair. “I’m mighty sorry for your loss, Mrs. Newman,” he said, his blue eyes exuding sympathy. “I hadn’t worked for Mr. Newman very long, but he seemed like a fine man.”
Melissa nodded, suddenly weary. She just wanted this day done. “Thank you,” she replied softly.
“If we’re finished here...?” Neal looked at her hesitantly.
“Yes, we’re through for now.”
Neal nodded, mumbled a goodbye, then hurried toward the door, as if he, too, just wanted this finished.
Sam pulled himself up off the sofa. “If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”
“Sam, could I ask you just a few more questions?” Melissa asked, looking at the man who’d probably been as close to Bill as anyone.
“Sure.” He sank back down and looked at her curiously.
“You probably knew Bill better than anyone, knew what went on with the business, too. Was there anyone angry with Bill? A disgruntled customer...anyone you can think of who might have wanted to hurt him?”
Sam frowned thoughtfully and Melissa was aware of Dominic leaving the spot behind her chair and moving to sit beside the older man. “Anything you can think of might help,” Dominic urged. “No matter how small or insignificant it seemed at the time. Is it possible Bill might have owed money to somebody?”
Sam shook his head vehemently at the last question. “No way. We’re the only heating-and-cooling business in town. We’ve got more work than we know what to do with. The business is financially solid.” He hesitated a moment, then raked a hand across his jaw. “I can tell you this—Bill intended to fire Mike.”
Dominic sat up straighter, and Melissa felt a stir of excitement flutter in her stomach. “Was Mike aware of Bill’s intention?” she asked.
“I don’t know how he couldn’t have been. Bill put him on probation a month ago, but the kid still continued to show up late, doing shoddy work that customers complained about.”
“I don’t suppose you’d know where Mike was on the evening of Bill’s murder?” Dominic asked.
“Sorry, I don’t have any idea,” Sam replied.
“Could you look around the office to see if Bill documented the customer complaints over the last four to six weeks?” Dominic asked.
“Sure, I can look,” Sam agreed.
“Thank you, Sam, for all your help,” Melissa added. “I’m depending on you to help me make decisions concerning the business.”
He nodded solemnly and stood. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
After Sam had left, Melissa turned to Dominic and asked, “You think it’s possible Mike killed Bill?”
“At this point anything is possible,” Dominic said. He opened a trash bag and deposited several used paper cups and plates inside. “But he’s somebody we definitely need to check out.” He paused and looked at Melissa curiously. “I noticed nobody from Bill’s family showed up today.”
“There’s no family to show up,” Melissa told him. She picked up several foam coffee cups and tossed them into the garbage bag. “Bill’s parents died when he was young. He was raised by an elderly aunt who died just before we married. It was his inheritance from her that he used to open the heating-and-cooling business in Wilford.”
“And where did he live before Wilford?”
Melissa frowned. “A small town in western Kansas—I can’t think of the name of it right now. Bill didn’t talk much about his life before Wilford.” She picked up the baby who had begun to fuss. “Let me fix him a bottle, and I’ll be right back to help finish cleaning up.”
Dominic nodded, and she went into the kitchen. As she waited for the bottle to heat, she thought of Dominic’s question about Bill’s past.
One of the things that had first attracted Melissa to Bill had been his capacity to listen. In the early weeks of their courtship, he’d encouraged her to talk about herself, her hopes, her dreams, her unhappy childhood, her ambiguous feelings about her father. Melissa had found his interest a heady thing. Never before had anyone cared what she had to say, but Bill had cared, and he’d listened.
It was only now that she realized how reticent he’d been about his own past. She sat down at the table and began to feed Jamison, racking her brain for the name of the small town that had been Bill’s home before Wilford.
By the time the baby had finished eating and had fallen back to sleep, she realized she would never remember the name of the little town that had been mentioned only once or twice.
She put the baby to bed, then returned to the living room, where Dominic had finished cleaning. “We’ll tidy up the kitchen, then everything will be back in order,” he said.
She smiled. “I didn’t know garbage detail was part of your job description.”
“That’s what’s special about this kind of work—there is no job description,” he replied.
In the kitchen, with the ceiling light turned on against the approach of dark, they worked silently, putting away leftover food and disposing of trash.
Melissa found herself casting surreptitious glances at Dominic, remembering Samantha’s words that she wished he would find a nice woman to chase the shadows from his eyes.
“Your mother died when you were young, didn’t she?” Melissa asked as she covered the last casserole dish and placed it in the refrigerator.
Dominic looked up from where he’d been tying closed the trash bag, his eyes registering surprise at the question. “Yeah, she died in the car accident that crippled my father. Why?”
“My mother died when I was young, too.” She leaned against the cool surface of the refrigerator. “I was just thinking that you and I have a lot in common.”
He flashed her a quick grin. “Yeah, we’re the two most notorious people in Wilford.”
She laughed, surprised by how good it felt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like laughing. The laughter stopped abruptly as she realized how inappropriate it was.
she sank down at the table. “I buried my husband this morning and everyone in town thinks I killed him. I shouldn’t be laughing.” Despite her words, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she thought of Mabel Harrison’s outrage—not that she might have killed Bill, but that she might dishonor Bill’s memory by falling into bed with Dominic.
“Why don’t I make us a pot of coffee?” he suggested.
She nodded and watched as he got the coffee from the cabinet and prepared a pot. Up until this moment in time, she’d viewed Dominic as the man here to protect her, the man who’d delivered her son, the man with whom she had in common the horrible experience of being wrongly accused of a heinous crime.
Now she found herself studying him simply as a man. The overhead artificial lights picked up auburn glints in his rich dark hair. Her fingers tingled as she thought of curling them into that thick darkness, pulling his face close enough to hers that she could taste the heat of his mouth.
“Maybe we should go over those files from Bill’s office while we have coffee,” she suggested, uncomfortable with the flush of heat, the sudden jolt of desire that accompanied her thoughts.
“Good idea.” Dominic pulled the file folders from the
kitchen drawer where they had placed them the day before. He set them down in the center of the table, then poured them each a cup of coffee. He pulled his chair around to her side of the table—far too close for Melissa’s comfort in her present state of mind.
It wasn’t only that she found herself vastly attracted to him in a physical sense; she genuinely liked him, appreciated what seemed to be a gentle nature. She liked the way his eyes lit up in unguarded moments, the quiet strength that flowed from him when she needed it most.
She wished she could tell him the truth about her marriage, that she could confess the hell she’d endured at Bill’s hands. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t reveal her own weaknesses to him, and she couldn’t hand him the motive that the police sought. She knew he had doubts about her innocence, saw them in his eyes at unguarded moments. She couldn’t bear it if that doubt became certainty.
“Why don’t you look over the personnel files, and I’ll check over the work invoices,” he suggested. As he pushed one of the folders in front of her, she noticed his hand. Long, artistic fingers, they implied not only strength, but gentleness. She’d seen them stroke Jamison’s cheek and wondered what they would feel like caressing her shoulders, sliding down her back.
She slapped open the folder, irritated by the inappropriate direction of her thoughts. What was wrong with her? She’d buried her husband that morning. A husband she hadn’t loved, a little voice reminded her.
She stared down at the paperwork in front of her, trying to concentrate on the words, but all she was conscious of was the press of Dominic’s thigh against her own, while the heat and scent of him wafted over her.
The words on the paper wavered as her mind filled with images, and her body imagined the sensation of being held in strong male arms—touched with tenderness, caressed with love. Not just any arms, but Dominic’s arms.
“Sam wasn’t kidding when he said the company wasn’t having any money problems,” Dominic said, breaking into her thoughts. “Here, take a look at these figures.” He pushed a ledger in front of her, then scooted his chair even closer, placing an arm around her back as he leaned toward her.
“This is the average monthly income,” he said as he pointed to a figure.
His cheek was so close to hers she imagined she could feel the soft brush of whiskers. “And this is what goes out each month in rent, salaries and miscellaneous.” He pointed to another figure. “I’d say the business is on sound financial ground.”
The hand that had been on the back of her chair suddenly moved up to her shoulder. Melissa’s breath caught in her chest. She felt as if all the molecules in the air around them had been displaced. Dominic must have felt it too, for the finger that pointed at the page trembled slightly.
She turned her head, surprised to find him looking at her. No, looking was too passive a word to describe the way his eyes played on her. Shadows gone, hunger shone, desire gleamed. She parted her lips—want ing, needing him to kiss her, knowing he wanted to kiss her.
He leaned toward her, and she closed her eyes, a shiver racing through her as she anticipated the velvet touch of his lips against hers.
A shrill alarm rang through the air. Melissa’s eyes flew open in time to see Dominic dart toward the security panel on the wall. She knew the system displayed a code for the area of the house that had been breached. Any desire she might have felt vanished as fear took its place.
“It’s the nursery,” he said as he raced out of the room.
“Jamison!” Melissa cried. She stood, her chair crashing to the floor as she ran down the hall toward her son’s room.
Chapter 7
Dominic’s heart raced as he ran down the hallway toward the baby’s room. He was vaguely aware of Melissa behind him, her breaths coming in quick gasps of panic. The alarm had changed from warning beeps to a full siren that blared discordantly throughout the house.
He expelled a sigh of relief as he entered the room and saw Jamison, safe and sound in his crib. The curtains bedecked with pink and blue dancing bears were drawn across the window. Dominic pulled the material back and grimaced. The screen hung half off the frame although the window remained tightly closed and locked.
“Whoever it was...the alarm must have frightened them away,” he said to Melissa, who had picked up the crying baby and held him close to her chest. “I’ll go shut off the alarm.”
Dominic took a detour into his room just long enough to get his gun, then returned to the kitchen with Melissa trailing behind. He punched in the code to stop the alarm. Almost immediately the phone rang. “That will be the security company.” He answered, gave the password to indicate all was well, then hung up.
“We need to call the police, make a report,” he said to Melissa.
Her eyes darkened. “Detective Mawlins will probably say I slipped outside and pulled off the screen to cast doubts on his suspicions about me.”
“But we know that isn’t true.” He picked up the receiver and punched in the number for the Wilford Police Station. It took him only moments to explain to the dispatcher that they’d had a possible break-in attempt.
“At least we know the alarm system works,” Melissa said when Dominic hung up the phone.
Dominic nodded, pleased that, indeed, the home alarm system had worked, but irritated that his own internal alarm system had been disappointingly mute.
In those seconds, that long stretch of eternity when his eyes had locked with Melissa’s and desire had momentarily been reflected in her eyes, his inner alarm should have been screaming like a siren.
“I’m going to go out and wait for the officers. Lock the door behind me.” He didn’t wait for her reply, but instead stalked out of the kitchen, through the living room and out the front door.
Warm, fragrant air embraced him as he stood on the porch and stared into the darkness surrounding the house. How long was he going to be able to survive staying here with Melissa without losing his mind? He’d been here less than a week and already his sleep was filled with dreams of her—of kissing her... touching her....
He looked up and stared at the half-crescent moon overhead. Why was it that he seemed to desire most the women who were unattainable to him?
He supposed some psychiatrist would believe it had something to do with his mother’s absence while he was growing up—her unintentional abandonment through death. Perhaps that early-childhood tragedy had set him up to always fall for women he couldn’t have...shouldn’t have.
Irritated by his thoughts, he stepped off the porch and flipped off the safety on his gun. Even though he knew the potential intruder had probably been scared off by the alarm, he didn’t intend to take any chances.
He walked around the perimeter of the house, noting the crushed grass beneath the nursery window. Apparently someone had stood there for several minutes—watching... waiting.
Gary? Was it possible the reporter had come back and in his never-ending quest for a story had stood at the window, peeked inside, then accidentally fallen against the window screen?
But the screen didn’t look as if anyone had fallen into it. It looked as though somebody had tried to remove it. He stepped closer to the window, grateful for the spill of moonlight that filtered down from the half-moon.
Careful not to step on the area of grass where the perpetrator had stood, he peered carefully at the screen. Along the edge, where wood met metal, it looked as if some instrument had been used to pry the screen loose.
Dominic frowned, realizing this definitely wasn’t Gary’s style. Gary might peek into windows and listen to private conversations in an effort to gain a headline, but he wouldn’t take it so far as to try to break into a house.
Dominic walked back to the front of the house just as a patrol car pulled up, its flashing lights reflecting off the nearby trees and thickets. He felt himself relax somewhat as a tall, lanky officer got out of the driver’s seat.
Matt Hampstead. Melissa would be pleased it wasn’t Detective Mawlins responding to the
ir call. Matt was a good man, a good cop, and one of the few who hadn’t turned their backs on Dominic when he’d gotten arrested. In fact, there had been a time when Dominic had considered Matt a good friend.
“Matt.” Dominic stuck his hand out as the tall, blond man approached.
“Hey, Dominic.” Matt shook Dominic’s hand. “I heard you were staying out here, keeping an eye on things. Want to tell me what happened?”
“We were sitting in the kitchen, going over some paperwork, and the alarm went off, indicating a breach of security in the back bedroom. Whoever it was must have been scared off by the alarm.”
Matt clicked on a flashlight. “Let’s have a look.”
The two men went back around the house, Matt’s flashlight cutting a wide swath through the darkness. “It looks like somebody tried to get in,” Matt observed as he studied the screen frame and the ground beneath the window. “Got any ideas who it might have been?”
“None. Although I caught Gary Watters skulking around the house a couple of nights ago. Still, this doesn’t seem his style,” Dominic replied.
“Why don’t we go inside, and I’ll write up a report.”
Dominic nodded and together they went back to the front door, where Dominic knocked for Melissa to let them in.
In the time that he’d been outside, she’d placed Jamison in his infant carrier on the floor by the sofa and he now slept peacefully, as if the blaring siren had only been a forgotten nightmare.
Dominic introduced Matt to Melissa, then stood nearby as the two sat down on the sofa so Matt could fill out his report.
As Melissa and Matt spoke, Dominic found himself watching her, remembering the sweet fragrance of her perfume as they’d looked over the files. Over the past several days, he’d come to identify the floral scent as a distinctive signature that was hers alone.
Since the funeral that morning, Dominic had noticed subtle changes in her. She seemed stronger, more substantial than she had before. It was as if she had suddenly realized Bill was gone, she was alone, and she was gearing herself to rise to the challenge of being a single parent, a strong widow.
Reluctant Dad Page 8
