They faced each other, the sexual tension between them so intense he felt it like an elastic band stretched to the snapping point.
“Damn it, Emma.” He made a move to reach for her, but she ducked away and headed for the door.
“Not until you’re ready to put me ahead of that big, elusive cat, Frasier MacKenzie. Come on, Bruiser. We’re going home.” At the door she paused and cast him a sly glance over her shoulder. “Enjoy the oatmeal. Oh, and by the way, you’re definitely not Mr. October. You can fill up my entire calendar anytime.”
****
“Frasier, I had a great idea.” Emma only knocked once on his door before opening it and coming into his cabin the following evening.
“What might that be?” He looked up from the maps he’d been studying. “Didn’t you put me on hold until I started placing you ahead of an Eastern Panther?”
“Frasier MacKenzie, you totally misinterpreted what I said. I was referring to our romantic relationship, not our friendship. Now do you want to hear my idea, or are you going to do your boring associate professor act?”
“Okay, let’s have it. What’s the idea?”
“We’ll have jam sessions.” She fetched his guitar from its place beside the fireplace and handed it to him. “You’ll play and sing and I’ll provide the backup vocal.”
“You’ll what?” He stared up at her.
“Provide the backup vocal…you know, like you used to do. I know all the songs you and your band used to play. Come on, it’ll be fun. Bruise and I will dance.”
“Okay.” He heaved a sigh and strummed a chord. Trying to change any idea Emma had was like trying to change the weather.
****
Emma was singing and dancing around the room with a happily howling Bruiser in her arms while Frasier belted out rock classic, his sock feet tapping time on the hardwood floor, when a knock sounded on the door. It hadn’t been easy, watching Emma gyrate around in front of him, but he knew making any romantic overtures to her now would be exactly the wrong thing to do. He was getting to know her character and personality and understand how he would have to proceed if he ever hoped to have anything more than a friendly relationship with this sexy, astonishing woman who was his neighbor.
Frasier broke off his tune and laid the guitar aside.
“Frasier.” Emma caught him by an arm as he headed for the door. “What if it’s those same men who threatened us? What if…?”
‘They’d never be stupid enough to try that twice.” He looked down into her concerned face. “And they definitely wouldn’t knock.”
“Maybe not, but…” Clutching Bruiser under one arm, she went to the drawer, pulled it open, and gingerly pointed to the gun. “Maybe you should take this.”
He hesitated. Maybe she was right. He returned and hefted the .38 as another knock, this time an impatient one, sounded on the door.
“Frasier, I can hear you talking. Open the door.”
“The Professor.” Frasier breathed the recognition. He replaced the gun in its hiding place, then went to open the door.
Amid a swirl of dead leaves and blustering wind, a tall, broad-shouldered, silver-haired man stood silhouetted against the blackness of the wilderness. He wore a plaid mackinaw, khaki bush pants, and hiking boots.
“Professor.” Frasier narrowly avoided snapping to attention before the older man’s steely stare. “I wasn’t expecting you. I didn’t hear your vehicle because of the wind.”
“Or maybe because of the music?” The man advanced into the room and closed the door on the inhospitable night. His penetrating gaze swept the room, taking in Emma, the Pug, and the guitar.
“Professor?” Emma came back to animation. “You must be Frasier’s supervisor. I’m Emma Prescott.” She settled the Pug under her left arm and extended her right hand. “And this,” she jerked her head in the direction of the little dog, “is Bruiser.” She flashed him a dazzling smile.
There was a static hiatus as the newcomer looked Emma up and down. Frasier held his breath. Then the Professor let a smile curl up the corners of his lips as he took her hand.
“Good evening, Miss Prescott…and Bruiser. I’m Benjamin Taylor.” He took her hand in a firm grip.
“What brings you up here tonight, sir?” Frasier suddenly understood the expression “sweating bullets” all too well.
“I had a few concerns about the project I needed to discuss with you. Since I was in the area this evening, I decided to visit. Haven’t come at an awkward moment, have I?”
“No, sir, of course not, sir.”
“Bruiser and I have been looking after Frasier since he was shot,” Emma said. “He’s almost completely recovered now. It wasn’t all that serious anyway. In fact, he moved back here only three days after the accident.”
“Moved back?”
“From my cabin next door. Frasier had been taking such great care of the Bruise and me, the least we could do for him was to let him move in with us so we could look after him while he recovered.”
“I see.” The Professor turned penetrating, blue eyes on the younger man. Frasier had to struggle to keep from fidgeting like a guilty child. “Well, I do thank you, Miss Prescott. Frasier is a valuable member of our staff. We’d hate to lose him. But now, if you don’t mind, I’d like a few words alone with him.”
“Of course.” Emma reached for her jacket. “Bruiser and I were about to head off home to bed anyway. See you tomorrow, Frasier. Good night, Scout. Nice to finally meet you, Professor Taylor.”
“I’ll see Emma to her cabin.” Frasier sat down and pulled on his boots. “Help yourself to coffee, sir. We just made a fresh pot.”
“Thank you.” The man nodded a polite acknowledgement.
Something like jealousy shot through Frasier as he caught Emma looking up at the Professor with open admiration. Even at fifty-something Benjamin Taylor was still a good-looking specimen.
****
“Are you in big trouble?” Emma asked as they hurried toward her cabin, hunched together against the wind and swirling leaves. A gale howled and moaned through the trees. The wilderness was pitch black.
“Probably.” On her verandah he paused. He hated the idea of leaving her alone. “Give me your key. I’ll go in and turn on some lights.”
“You don’t need to. Bruise and I will be fine.” She snuggled the Pug more securely against her. “I think it’s important that you don’t antagonize your supervisor any further by making him wait.”
“And I think it’s important I make sure you’re safe and sound. Now give me the key.”
In the darkness he felt her warm hand slide into his and deposit a piece of cold metal.
“Thanks.” He drew a deep breath and took it, fighting the urge to hold onto her, to pull her close, to…
“Frasier, are you going to open the door or what?”
Her words snapped him out of it. He shoved the key into the lock, turned it, then pushed open the door. He proceeded through the cabin, snapping on lights as he went.
****
When he headed for the door ten minutes later, in the shadows of the fire he’d started blazing on the hearth, she caught him by the arm, raised on tiptoes, and kissed his cheek.
“Thanks, Frasier,” she said softly. The expression in her green eyes took his breath away. She wanted him to stay.
He swallowed hard and hated his body for not accepting the reality of their situation.
“Gotta go,” he muttered hoarsely and made his escape.
****
“Got her home safely, did you?”
The Professor was lounging in a chair by the fire, a cup of coffee in his hands when Frasier stepped back into his cabin.
“Yes, sir. I thought it the right thing to do…under the circumstances.”
“Ah, yes, the circumstances. Let’s get down to them, shall we? Bring out your maps and show me what range you’ve covered.”
He stood as Frasier went to the bookcase to pull out the maps.
&nb
sp; “By the way…” The Professor replenished his coffee while Frasier spread the papers over his repaired table. “I’m glad I came. It gave me a chance to meet the unshakeable Emma Prescott. Quite frankly, my boy…” He turned back to Frasier.
The younger man sucked in too much air and coughed.
Here it comes.
“In spite of the fact that she has to be one of the worst singers I’ve ever heard, I’d have serious doubts about your sexual preference if you weren’t having difficulty getting rid of a charming beauty like her.” A slow grin relaxed his features, and Frasier exhaled. “But,” he continued, “you still have to make her leave Loon Lake. I have a feeling we’ll be wrapping up this project sooner than expected. We don’t want that nice young woman involved. Fortunately, while I was driving up here, I came up with the perfect solution. Andrea.”
“Andrea? Not Andrea Morgan? Hey, look, I’ll try harder. I’ll come up with a foolproof plan. Just don’t send Andrea Morgan up here.”
“Sorry, my boy. While you were depositing Ms. Prescott back at her cabin, I called her on my cell. She’ll be here in the morning. I’d advise you to make her welcome—you know what I mean. Now bring me up to date on the project. Any new developments?”
“Nothing you don’t already know. I phoned you the details about those two who broke in on Emma and me. Aside from that…”
He hesitated. The Professor looked over at him sharply.
“Go on,” he said evenly, blue eyes so intense Frasier felt he could look right down inside him.
“Did you send someone up here posing as a forest ranger to get Emma to leave the lake?” Indignation bristled. “If you did, I think that was going too far. I’ve already told you she’s okay. There was no need…”
“There was and is every need to make sure she leaves this area, as you well know.” The big man drew himself to his full height. Frasier, as always, felt himself backing down. “First, she’s interfering with your work, and, second, she could be in serious danger. Under these circumstances, I did see fit to send Kevin Smith in the role of forest ranger in an attempt to move her along.”
“But did you also order him to search her cabin, invade her privacy?” Frasier was all-out fighting anger. “There was no need…”
“There was every need. Her job puts her in a perfect position to inject drugs into the town high school. Although our preliminary investigations turned up nothing suspicious in her past, we had to be sure.”
“This Smith saw fit to take a couple of her old CDs of The Sound. Why?”
“An accidental discovery. Kevin found them and thought it best he take them in case she recognized you from the cover.”
“She’d already done that. It was no problem.”
“No? A case of rock-star-worship, or whatever they call it these days, could enhance her desire to stay near you.”
“It didn’t. By the way, where did Smith get a key to Emma’s cottage?”
“Kevin helped her pack her car to leave. He saw to it that a window was left unlocked. He’s adept at pushing himself through small spaces.”
“Leaving not a single trace of his visit and finding absolutely nothing.”
“I suggest you modify your tone, Frasier. It’s not impressing or pleasing me. No, for your information, he didn’t find anything…aside from those CDs.”
Frasier drew a deep breath. “Very good, sir, but I have to tell you. When this project is finished, I plan to try to establish a relationship with Emma Prescott…if she can bear to look at me by then.”
****
Frasier was finishing his breakfast when he heard a vehicle coming up the trail at a faster speed than the condition of the rough woods road warranted. She’d wasted no time. Hell! He got up from the table and went out onto the verandah.
“Frasier, sweetie, there you are!” The beautiful brunette swung out of the shiny black SUV and waved to him. With a figure that had caused more than a few male heads to swivel, the vision of Andrea Morgan in enough black leather to make a rock video, her shining ebony hair swinging down to just above her waist, would have been almost any man’s idea of a really wild dream. Frasier muttered an expletive. He could have handled the Emma situation without this intrusion. In fact, if he knew Emma, it would only make things worse.
But he couldn’t go against the Professor’s instructions. He suppressed a cringe when she came up the steps, threw her arms around his neck, and pulled his head down to bury his lips in a deep kiss.
“Come on, come on, Frasier,” she hissed against his mouth. “Put a little something into it, will you? You’re supposed to be my significant other, for God’s sake.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling back. Glancing over her shoulder, he saw Emma coming out of her cabin, briefcase in hand, Bruiser on his leash. She stopped short when she saw the pair on the verandah, stared for a moment, then hurried down the steps and scrambled into her car.
As she gunned the motor and spun out of the yard with a backlash of grass and earth, Andrea released him and stepped back.
“Damn it, Frasier!” she snapped as he stood staring after the vanishing old car. “I’ve seen monkeys at the zoo give a better show of affection. You’d better be a lot more participative tonight when Miss Pain-in-the-Butt comes home, or I’ll be stuck in this Godforsaken hole forever…which means the rest of the week.”
Hell and damnation! Frasier followed her inside the cabin. He watched as she splashed coffee into a cup and drank it black.
****
“Emma!” Frasier stood on his verandah, according to Andrea’s instructions, when his neighbor arrived home from school that afternoon.
“Yes?” She paused in letting Bruiser out of his seatbelt.
“Will you come over here for a minute? There’s someone who’d like to meet you.”
“Really?” She placed the Pug on the ground. The little dog scampered off to join Scout, who’d come out of the cabin with Frasier. “Well, certainly, of course, why not?”
He barely avoided flinching at the coldness in her words.
She placed her purse and briefcase on the top step of her cabin, drew a deep breath, then swaggered across the yard and up his front steps.
“Come in,” he invited holding the door open. Emma entered, shoulders back, spine rigid.
This was going to get nasty.
“Well, you must be Emma.” As Emma entered, the brunette got up from the couch where she’d been curled like a contented feline. “Frasier’s told me a lot about you. I wonder if he’s told you about me.”
“And you would be?” Emma’s words held all the warmth of a January midnight.
“Andrea Morgan, Frasier’s…” She allowed a suggestive pause before she continued, “significant other. Actually, more than that. He hopes to marry me as soon as he can convince me I’m hopelessly in love with him.”
“Really?”
That word again! Damn and double damn!
The look in her emerald eyes told him he was about to experience Emma Prescott in action as never before.
“How strange! I take it you haven’t been a frequent visitor to Loon Lake. Otherwise, how would you explain the sobriquet the locals have for him…the hermit of Loon Lake?”
Score one for Emma!
“I’m a career woman.” Andrea narrowed her eyes. Frasier could sense her preparing for battle. “Frasier understands that careers have to come first.”
The woman can be one nasty piece of work, no doubt.
“Really?”
This REALLY isn’t going to be good.
Emma continued, “Well, if I had a significant other like Frasier MacKenzie, there wouldn’t be a career in this world important enough to keep me away from him for two entire months.”
“You think not?”
“I know it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have case files to update. You see, Ms. Morgan, I have a career, as well, but it didn’t stop me from caring for Frasier when he got shot. I guess he knew you wouldn’t come running to hi
s side—that’s why he didn’t ask me to call you. He didn’t even mention you as someone I should notify. Frasier?” She turned to him, her bellicose expression dissolving. The hurt overlaid with disappointment in her expression wrenched at his gut. “I assume I won’t be seeing much of you for a while. Or at least not for however long she plans to stay.”
Narrowing her eyes, Emma smiled at the brunette. “But once she’s gone, I’ll go back to making you a whole bunch more great breakfasts.” She caught Frasier by an arm. Rising on tiptoes, she placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips while she ran the fingers of her right hand down his cheek. His breath knotted in his chest. Every natural instinct in his body yelled, goaded him to take her into his arms, to kiss her until the dragon lady could have no doubts about his feelings.
Just in time, she released him and headed for the door. Before she stepped outside, she struck a seductive pose, winked at him, and murmured, “Until later, Frasier MacKenzie.”
“Argh!” Andrea Morgan gritted the exclamation between clenched teeth. “What a little…”
“Don’t say it, Andrea.” Frasier was quick to warn her. “You might just be talking about the woman I love.”
Now where had that come from?
****
“Frasier, breakfast.”
Frasier awoke to Emma’s voice. She was at his door. He flinched as he pulled himself out of bed and into a robe. Rubbing his head, he remembered the woman sleeping in the next room.
Blast the Professor for sending Andrea Morgan to Loon Lake.
“Quiche and coffee.” Emma, in perfectly fitted jeans and peach-colored angora sweater, brushed past him with a basket and a thermos, heading for the table, Bruiser at her heels.
“Emma, I don’t think…” he began, but suddenly Andrea was in the room wearing a short, black, semi-transparent nightgown and stiletto slippers. Her mane of hair was tousled.
“So you couldn’t wait until my bed was cold before you made your move.” She glared at Emma. “Well, Miss Emma Prescott, let me tell you…”
“No, let me tell you, Ms. Morgan. I don’t know who you really are, but I can hazard a guess. The Professor sent you up here to get rid of me. No way are you Frasier’s significant other. I’ve come to know him in the past few weeks, and no way would he get involved with a hard bit like you.”
Holding Off for a Hero Page 19
