Beck finally looked down right before he rested his hand in the spill. “Shit.”
“I can—”
When she took a step toward him, he held up a hand and stopped her. “I got it.”
Seeing his usually even-keeled brother stumbling around and sneaking secret glances at Sophie switched Declan’s confusion to amusement. Then he looked at Sophie a second time and saw the cleaning supplies in her bucket and the pieces fell apart all over again. “Give us an idea of who you are. Other than your name, I mean.”
“I help Nanette.” That was all Sophie said. As if that answered anything.
Declan was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Like, escaped-from-somewhere wrong. “Our grandmother died three months ago.”
Sophie didn’t even blink but her smile turned sad. “I know. I’m very sorry.”
“And before that she didn’t have enough money to pay the mortgage, so how did she pay you?” Beck asked.
Sophie met his harsh tone with a scowl. “Why so many questions?”
The energy sparking off these two could light the house. Declan decided not to bring it up since Beck’s narrowed eyes suggested he was ready for battle and just looking to launch into a legal argument of some sort. That wouldn’t resolve anything, except sending Declan back to bed for a boredom nap.
He appealed to Sophie since she appeared slightly less irrational than Beck. “What exactly did you do for our grandmother?”
Sophie glanced at the bucket next to her sneakers. “Clean. She couldn’t do it by herself.”
Instead of backing down, Beck stepped up, closing the distance between them and getting very close to breaking right into her personal space. “I’m noticing you didn’t answer the question about the money.”
“Excuse me?” Her question came out in a kiss-my-ass tone Declan admired.
The tension left Beck’s face. In a flash, all anger vanished. “Clarke Industries.”
Declan wondered if the conversation could get any more confusing and doubted it. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“The checks.” Beck nodded. “Once per month but not for much.”
That fast, all the tension sucked out of the room. One minute the pressure was enough to pop Declan’s ears and blow the roof. The next, the two of them had returned to their respective corners.
“That’s me,” she said in a much softer voice.
“Do you live in your car or something?” Beck closed one eye as if he were pulling up a memory from some file in his mind. “The check was for fifty dollars. The house is three stories.”
The lines around her mouth eased and her face softened. “I actually helped out here more as a favor.”
The look could only be described as gooey. Declan never understood how women could muster that expression at just the right time in a conversation to throw a man off stride but they all did it. It was as if little girls took a class in male-confusion or something.
“Why?” he asked, ready for the conversation and quick glances between Beck and Sophie to end.
“Maybe we could finish this when he gets dressed.” Her gaze lingered on Beck this time.
For the first time, Declan realized this early-morning conversation didn’t have a required wardrobe. He wore sweats and a T-shirt, more because he’d planned to walk the grounds this morning than anything else. Beck, on the other hand, came downstairs in boxer briefs and a tee. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, and unless Declan was misreading the situation, it caused the shock of pink on Sophie’s cheeks.
“She’s talking about you.” Declan said to Beck.
Beck looked down and when he lifted his head again a smile played on his lips. “I can hear fine in my underwear.”
That was about as subtle as being hit in the face with a brick. “Beck, come on. Use that big brain of yours.”
Sophie shifted so she faced Declan and gave Beck her back. “I liked Nanette. She was kind to me when I needed it. In return, I wanted to make her life a little easier. That’s all.”
But that didn’t explain everything, and with all the allegations about Charlie and his money floating around, Declan needed to know the truth. “Who’s been paying you since she died?”
“No one. I stopped coming around after a few weeks and only started again when I heard people were coming to work on the house.”
“But now you want a check, right?” Beck asked from over her shoulder.
Since Declan wasn’t in the mood for another interrogation and didn’t particularly like the idea of living in filth, he made a quick calculation and went with it. “I’ll pay you. We can figure out a reasonable rate and any overdue balance.”
“I’m happy to stay on.” She bent down to grab her bucket and when she straightened again her smile had returned. “But until you sell, I’ll do it at the old rate. It’s the least I can do.”
Just what he needed. One more person beating the sell-the-house drum. “Since we might not sell, we’ll work out other arrangements.”
Her smile faltered just as fast as it came. “What?”
“We might live here.”
“Oh . . . good.” She hesitated for a second as she got her sudden blinking problem under control. “That’s wonderful. This house needs life again.”
Damn strange reaction. About par for the course in Sweetwater, but still, this woman was not just a random housecleaner. She had some sort of connection to the house, and wasn’t that just another pain in the ass he didn’t need. “You can start on the third floor.”
She nodded and snuck one last look at Beck before disappearing through the doorway to the formal dining room. Neither brother said anything as her footsteps echoed through the quiet house. When her sneakers pounded against the stairs, Declan steeled his body for a new verbal battle with Beck.
It only took a second after the floor above their head creaked before he jumped in. “Now what are you doing? We don’t even know that woman.”
Declan had no fucking clue. He was operating on pure instinct here. That and the old adage about keeping your enemies closer.
He went to the sink and dumped his coffee cup in there before turning back to Beck. “You have a trust issue.”
“My reaction probably has something to do with having everyone in this town hate us. You’re not a little skeptical of having some woman show up on the doorstep proclaiming her wish to help? I’m guessing she wants something, like possibly our blood in a vial on her fireplace.”
They stood only a few feet apart now. Declan could see the lines of worry on Beck’s forehead. It couldn’t be normal for a guy his age to have those tension lines. Made Declan wonder about what else Beck might be dealing with and not saying.
“I’m thinking you should stop taking criminal clients. They’re making you paranoid.”
Beck leaned against the island and crossed one ankle over the other. “Just trying to be practical. The list of Charlie’s enemies is long.”
“But they’re not our enemies. We didn’t do anything.”
“Tell them that.”
Declan doubted Beck was thinking about Charlie and his cons right now. “Is that really the problem here? Really why she set you off?”
Beck frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing.” Talk about clueless. “She’ll clean. I’ll watch over her. We won’t live like pigs. These are all good things.”
Beck exhaled long and loud, like the weight of the world had just been dumped right on his head. “No.”
“No?”
Beck shook his head. “You have enough to handle with dating Leah Baron—”
“I’m not—”
“—I’ll take care of Ms. Clarke.”
Declan opened his mouth to launch into a deni
al about the dating but stopped. If Beck wanted to be near Sophie, Declan wasn’t going to stand in the way. Besides, it would be a pure pleasure watching Beck fight and deny his attraction. “Okay.”
“That was almost too easy.”
No kidding. “Hey, when you win an argument, stop talking. Didn’t they teach you that in law school?”
“Not during the parts I was awake for.”
One victory down. Now all Declan had to do was win over Leah. Sure, no problem.
Chapter Seven
Leah dragged a third box into her bedroom, stepping around the exercise bike she used as a very expensive pants hanger and the pumps she kicked off the second after she came home from visiting her dad. The same visit she hadn’t planned for and which lasted hours rather than just for an early lunch as she had thought. Rushing around like an animal on speed wasn’t exactly her ideal hanging-around-the-house-on-Sunday routine, but it all had to be done, and fast.
She swore under her breath, knowing she should have taken care of all this last night. Hide the boxes and move the whiteboard. That had been her sexy Saturday night agenda but then she stared at the map of Hanover information and fell asleep across the end of her bed. She hadn’t jumped awake until her dad called this morning asking for her to come over and help with a photograph project.
She’d shed her sweater as she walked in the door and the silk blouse would normally come off next in favor of a washer-worn tee, but her sort-of-unwanted guest sort-of-not would be here in a half hour, and she needed to keep as professional-looking as possible. Which meant clothes on, comfort later.
“What are you going to wear for your big date?” Mallory asked the question as she pulled a third dress out of Leah’s double-door closet and threw it on the bed. The hangers clanked together as the clothes piled up on the pillow. “I like the aqua. It’s perfect with your skin tone.”
“You mean pale?” Leah dropped the box on the stack and her biceps immediately groaned in thanks. Not everything fit on the board, which left stacks of files behind.
“Yeah, because the red hair, porcelain skin and gray eyes combination thing is such a total turn off.”
Leah had never been one of those women who thrived on pointing out her own faults. She was pretty, not beautiful or striking, but not ugly. The freckles and inability to step outside for more than three minutes without slathering on a tube of sunscreen or wearing a hazmat suit, even in the fall, drove her nuts. But her insecurities were manageable. Well, mostly. Mallory’s expectations for this evening were another story.
“This is not a date,” Leah said, knowing it was unlikely Mallory would listen any better this time than she did that morning on the phone, or during the call last night or ten minutes ago when Leah said it again.
“Did you shave your legs this morning?”
She had last night but that was more about not wanting to be a hairy beast than Declan. Rather than get all defensive and do that thing where her voice went up really high and have Mallory shoot her that I-told-you-so look, Leah stayed non-committal. “What?”
“Uh-huh.” Mallory opened the thin top drawer of the dresser and dug around. When she turned back she had one hand full of pink silk and another with white lace. “Leg shaving means date. Date means sexy undies. Pick something pretty.”
“This is a business meeting.” Leah grabbed the bras and underwear and threw them in a ball on the top of the dresser. She pointed at the big whiteboard sitting in her bedroom doorway and blocking their way inside and out. “And could you maybe help with this?”
“I’m trying to figure out why you’d bring Declan here when it’s Hanover investigation central. I mean, come on. You have a whiteboard. Where the heck did you even get that thing, the police station?”
From the elementary school, but Leah refused to admit that or come clean about how hard it was to break it down and shove it in the car to bring it home. “I needed to spread out.”
“Which brings me back to the previous question.”
She dropped on the edge of the bed and let her shoulders fall along with her body. “Because I can’t have my dad or one of his friends see me with Declan.”
“But if it’s a business meeting . . .” Mallory closed one eye. “Or is it?”
“All business.” No matter what Leah dreamed about doing with Declan after she saw him last night.
“That’s a shame.”
The words bounced around in Leah’s head as she ignored a smack of unexpected regret. “We have five minutes to fix this or—”
“What?”
“I have to come up with a reasonable excuse for having the whiteboard that doesn’t include a ‘hey Declan, I’m trying to find dirt on you and your brothers’ angle.”
“That would be interesting.”
“The word you’re searching for is impossible, maybe messy, but certainly not something as neutral as interesting.” Leah stood up and started tugging on the edge of the whiteboard. On the second pull, she wedged it in the door frame. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing good.”
“No, no, no. Not now. Oh my God.” Her voice cut off because the breath hissed out of her.
She yanked again and heard metal scrape against wood. Anxiety shot through her and spun around until she grew dizzy. If Declan saw the writing or the photos . . . well, she didn’t know what he’d do. His temper could flare and she had no idea if he was dangerous. His Army record included awards and commendations, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a nasty side, maybe one far more violent than Charlie’s.
Then there was the more immediate problem of escaping the room. She lived in a one-level cottage, but with her luck she’d crawl out the window and fall right at his feet. That wouldn’t exactly be easy to explain.
With jerky movements and her insides crawling around in frantic desperation, she turned to Mallory. “Help me.”
Mallory sighed. “For a smart woman, you’re acting kind of stupid.”
“That’s the exact opposite of helpful. True, but still.”
“Step back.” Dressed in her usual dark tights, short skirt and motorcycle boots, Mallory dropped to her knees and started fiddling with a knob on the bottom of the board.
She maneuvered her body through the small space and crawled under the board and over the roller base. A squeaking sound filled the room a second later. The board fell with a whoosh for about six inches and landed with a clank at a lower level.
Relief pounded through Leah hard enough to buckle her knees. “Thank you.”
Mallory sat on the floor, picking up a few of the photos that fell off when the board crashed down. “Now do I get to stay?”
“No.”
“Because, obviously, there will be kissing, and you want that to be private.”
Leah couldn’t even let her mind wander in that direction. “He’s supposed to be the enemy.”
“You know, just because you were taught to hate the guy from birth doesn’t mean you can’t break out from the family insanity and make a decision about him on your own.” Mallory held up a hand for an assist to her feet.
One tug and they were face to face. “It’s not that simple.”
“I’ve seen what the vendetta has done to you.” All amusement had left Mallory’s voice. Her dark eyes grew serious and that frown spelled trouble. “Maybe it’s time to get your life back, which you almost did before Nanette had to go and die. Stop wading through your parents’ baggage.”
“What does that mean?” But Leah knew. She’d said the same words in the mirror that morning.
“Like I said before, you sometimes forget it but you’re a smart woman.” Mallory dragged the board back into the bedroom. Between the queen size bed, boxes and bike, there was only about a foot of walkable space left on the hardwood floor. The doorbell rang right as the doorway
cleared. “I’ll get it.”
“Mallory, no.” Leah reached out to grab Mallory but the bike handle slammed into her gut. “Damn it.”
By the time Leah retrieved her pumps and conquered the bedroom obstacle course, she heard the squeak of the front door and felt a breeze blow through the house from the entry to the open window in the bedroom. She figured she had exactly three seconds to get out there before she lost all control of the conversation.
She closed the bedroom door and turned. Her shoe slipped out from under her and her hands hit the wall with a thunk. The desperate grab for the frame was the only thing that kept her from hitting her knees. Thank goodness a small hallway separated the bathroom and bedroom from the full view of the front door or her bumbling triumph would have had an audience.
She turned the corner in time to see Mallory ushering Declan inside. There were lots of smiles and what sounded like a female giggle. Leah was trying to remember the last time she’d heard her friend giggle. Oh, right . . . never.
“Hello again,” Mallory said as she shook his hand and her other one went to her chest. “I’m Mallory.”
“Declan.”
“Oh, I remember you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He inclined his head.
Much more of this and he’d be kissing her hand and Leah really didn’t want to see that. And Mallory’s staring and Declan’s eye-twinkle thing were a bit over the top. “I’m here, too, by the way.”
Leah knew her voice broke whatever spell had Mallory in its grip because she shook her head and flashed a huge smile. “Right, well, I have to go. Have a good date.”
Nothing else. Just a wink and a quick shift around Declan, and Mallory was gone.
As the door clicked shut, Declan held his eye contact with Leah. “Date?”
“She was kidding.”
“Didn’t sound like it.”
The man had been in her house for less than five minutes and she’d already lost control. Technically, he hadn’t even taken the step necessary to enter her family room. He hung by the door, all broad-shouldered with damp hair and a T-shirt that stretched over him and highlighted the trim waist and what she guessed was a super-flat stomach. That tattoo on his biceps peeked out and she had to fight the urge to ask him about it.
No Turning Back Page 7
