The thrill rejuvenated his enthusiasm.
It’d been a long time since he’d taken on a new adventure, demanded something extra from his skills. Had he gotten lazy? Maybe. But that was no more. His new scheme broke the rules that had kept him from detection over the years. There would be consequences. But the payoff would make the cost worthwhile.
His next hunt would be double the challenge and twice the pleasure.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“X equals fifty-two,” Brooke said as she wrote the answer to the problem on the dry-erase board in black marker. She turned to face her Algebra I class. “Does anyone have any questions about today’s lesson?”
She scanned the classroom. Twenty-eight faces blinked back at her with varying degrees of comprehension. In the front row, Sara, a pretty blond with perfectly straight hair and teeth, copied the problem with her usual diligence. Derek dozed in the back row, head tilted back, long jean-clad legs stretched out under the seat in front of him. Brooke sighed. Derek would snooze his way to an effortless A on the next test, while poor Sara would scratch and claw for a C.
The bell clanged.
Lunchtime.
Brooke raised her voice over the sounds of bodies moving, backpacks zipping, and chair legs scraping on linoleum. “Don’t forget, page seventy, problems sixteen through thirty for tomorrow.” She pointed to the other end of the dry-erase board, where she’d written the homework assignment.
Students bottlenecked at the exit. Brooke wiped the eraser across the board, clearing the lesson for the next class. The door opened and the change-of-class cacophony of voices, footsteps, and slamming lockers filled Brooke’s classroom. She dropped into her chair.
Sara stopped in front of Brooke’s desk, twirled the blunt end of a few blond locks. “Ms. Davenport, I’m really confused. Are you going to be here in the morning?”
Poor Sara worked her tail off.
“I’ll be here about twenty minutes before homeroom tomorrow. I’m available eighth period and for a little while after school today.”
Sara shook her head. “I have field hockey practice after school. I’ll come in the morning.”
“OK.” Brooke set her marker on its ledge. She watched the perfect fall of Sara’s hair swish out the door.
After the room emptied, Brooke locked the door and started toward the math teachers’ lounge. Her stomach rumbled, and she wished she’d brought more than yogurt and a banana for lunch. Was she hungry enough to trek to the cafeteria?
Abby emerged from her classroom and fell into step beside her. “How’s the knee?”
“Better today.” But probably not better enough to zip down to the cafeteria and back in her short lunch period. Yogurt and fruit would have to suffice, which was probably a good thing since she hadn’t exercised since Monday.
They reached the lounge, and Abby led the way into the tiny room. “Don’t forget we have track team yearbook pictures first thing in the morning.”
“I won’t.” The smell reached Brooke before she got through the door. Fresh cookies. The aroma should have made her drool, but instead the familiar scent staunched her appetite on the first whiff.
“Oh, look.” Excitement raised the pitch of Abby’s voice.
Brooke stepped around her friend. She stared. Homemade macaroons were piled on a round platter. A Post-it note bearing her name was stuck onto the plastic wrap. In her peripheral vision she could see Abby at the refrigerator, opening the door, sticking her head inside, and pulling out their lunches. But her voice had faded to a vocal blur.
The aroma filled the room. Memories swamped Brooke.
“They smell fabulous. I’m starving. I want to skip lunch and just eat those.” Abby tossed their lunch bags on the table. “Aren’t you going to open the card?”
“Of course.” She was being ridiculous. She could not freak out every time she encountered coconut cookies. This weekend, she was going to eat macaroons all day long to desensitize herself to the sight and smell and taste. Determined, Brooke checked the outer wrapping, then lifted the tray and checked underneath. “No card.”
“Maybe it fell off.” Abby pulled out a chair and sat down. A quizzical furrow formed between her eyebrows. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Not at all. This is a thoughtful gesture.” It was. Someone baked her cookies, and she was being weird. She shook it off. “I wish I knew who sent them so I could thank them.”
No student at Westbury High could possibly know that macaroons were Karen’s favorite cookie, or that Brooke hadn’t been able to eat one without crying since her friend’s death.
“You should take them home.”
“No. I’ll leave them here for everyone to enjoy.”
“Cool.” Greg walked in, sniffing the air. He took the chair opposite Brooke and snatched a cookie from the tray. “These are good. Did you make them?” He mumbled the question at Abby around a mouthful of cookie.
Abby shook her head. “Wasn’t me.”
Greg opened his lunch box and took out a sandwich. He glanced at Brooke. “We all know it wasn’t you.”
“What do you mean by that?” Brooke snapped the end of her banana and peeled the top half, but the scent clashed with the lingering smell of coconut. Her yogurt didn’t go down any easier.
Greg rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. Remember those peanut butter things you made at Christmas last year?” He shuddered.
“He’s being melodramatic,” Abby said. “They weren’t that bad.”
Brooke shrugged. “I won’t make you any cookies this year.”
Greg lifted his sandwich. “I can live with that.”
Brooke should have acted appropriately insulted, but the usual banter didn’t appeal. The scent of coconut had lodged in her nose. It was going to remind her of Karen for the rest of the day.
“Gran?” Luke carried his bag into the foyer. The sound of coughing led him down the hall to the kitchen. His grandmother stood at the counter. She was filling a mug with coffee.
“Lucas.” She set the pot back on its burner and smiled at him. “I haven’t heard anything from Nancy at the police station, so I assume all is well with Brooke.”
“Yes, ma’am. So far, so good.” Luke dropped his bag on the floor. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” Gran coughed into her fist. She waved him toward a chair. “Sit. I made an apple strudel. Coffee?”
While Gran scrubbed her hands at the sink, Luke dropped into a chair. She poured him coffee and sliced a chunk off the end of the fresh pastry. “You can take the rest back to Brooke’s with you.”
“Don’t you want any?”
“I’m not terribly hungry.” She took the seat across from him.
He picked up the fork. “They why did you make it?”
“I was bored, and I like to bake.” She wrapped her hands around her mug. “I thought someone was sure to drop by and eat it. And here you are.”
He slipped a forkful into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “Perfect, as always.”
Gran blushed, the pink rising into her pale cheeks like a fever.
Luke lowered his fork. “Are you sure you’re all right? You look tired.”
“I appreciate that you’re worried about me, Lucas.” She smiled at him. “I have a cold. It’s cruddy, but I’ll get over it.”
Luke ate more strudel. Probably if he’d been around more in the last few years, he’d have seen his grandmother with a cold before, and he wouldn’t be so paranoid.
“Now tell me how Brooke and the children are doing.”
Luke told her about the special report the news had played that morning.
“I saw that.” Gran’s eyes narrowed and her face sharpened to the look that meant someone was going to get a stern lecture. “I’d like to call that news station and give them a piece of my mind.”
Luke grinned. He wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Gran’s wrath. “Freedom of the press and all that.”
Gran pursed her lips at his s
tatement. “Rubbish. The press has the same responsibility as anyone else not to put people in danger. They just want to milk the crime as long as possible.”
“Probably.”
Luke finished his dessert, retrieved more clean clothes from his room, and said goodbye to his grandmother.
He stopped at the pet store for bathing supplies on his way back to Brooke’s house. Sunshine greeted him at the door. He let the dog out onto the lawn for a few minutes. She did her business and followed him back into the house. He scratched her head. He’d never had a dog, but washing one seemed simple enough. He wanted to do something nice for Brooke. The last few days had been rough.
In the upstairs bathroom, he lined up the new items next to the tub: hydrating shampoo for sensitive skin, a conditioner for thick coats, and a brush recommended by the sales clerk. He grabbed a plastic cup and fetched a stack of towels from the linen closet.
At the top of the stairs, he slapped his thigh. “Come on, girl.”
Sunshine wasn’t in sight. He went downstairs. Where was she? A quick tour of the house revealed the dog cowering under the kitchen table.
Luke leaned over. “Oh, come on. You can’t possibly know.”
She backed up. Luke pulled out a chair and crawled under the table. He wrapped his arms around her the dog and gently pulled her into the open. With a firm grip on her collar, he stood. “Let’s go.”
Sunshine sunk onto the tile.
“Passive resistance?” He picked her up. She didn’t fight but went limp in his arms. Luke carried her upstairs and into the bathroom. He closed the door with his foot before setting the dog down. “This is ridiculous. It’s just a bath. You smell awful.”
He ran the water. Watching, the dog shivered. Her brown eyes accused him of committing all sorts of atrocities.
“You’re not even wet yet.” When a few inches had accumulated, Luke stirred the water with his hand to check the temperature. Perfect. Warm, not hot. He spread a towel on the floor and lifted the dog. She flailed as he set her down in the tub. Water splashed over the edge and onto Luke’s jeans. He grabbed for more towels.
“Relax,” he soothed. “Sit down. You’re going to feel much better afterward.”
Using the cup, he thoroughly soaked her fur and lathered her up with shampoo and rinsed her about a thousand times. Collies had a lot of fur. Luke let the water out of the tub twice before he was satisfied her coat was completely suds free. He pulled the plug for the last time. “Don’t you feel better?”
He turned and reached for a towel. The dog leaped from the tub. Water splashed. Scrambling on the slippery floor, Luke grabbed for her collar. She ducked him and shook hard. Water sprayed in every direction.
Luke reached for another towel, but they were all soaked.
“Stay.” He pointed at the dog as he cracked the door and backed out the narrow opening. She lunged, streaking between his legs and out into the hall. “Stop!” He chased her, sliding across the water-splattered hardwood. She scrambled faster than an old dog should be able to move. Breathing hard, Luke cornered her in the kitchen. He tried to lead her by the collar, but she planted her butt firmly on the tile. “Come on. We’re almost done.”
He hadn’t brought a towel with him. He picked up the sopping dog and carried her back upstairs. He pushed her into the bathroom and grabbed more towels from the closet. Twenty minutes of rubbing later, Sunshine’s coat was still damp. Luke found a hair dryer under the cabinet. With the air on low, he brushed the tangles out of the thick coat. Satisfied she was dry enough not to get sick, he turned off the dryer and sniffed her fur. “Much better.”
He opened the door. The dog bolted from the room. Luke looked down at his clothes. His jeans and shirt were wet and coated with dog fur, and so was the bathroom, the hall, the stairwell, and the kitchen. With a sigh, he carried the wet towels to the basement and started the washer. He found the cleaning supplies and attacked the explosion of wet fur. An hour later, the bathroom sparkled, and the floors were mopped. He stowed the mop and bucket in the basement, transferred the wet towels to the dryer, and started a second load. Back upstairs, he checked the clock.
Time to pick up Brooke and the kids at school. No time to shower. Wonderful.
He sniffed his shirt. He smelled like the dog—before the bath.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brooke climbed into the passenger seat of Luke’s sedan. She sniffed. A familiar foul odor filled Luke’s car. Had he taken her dog somewhere? Already in the backseat, the kids grinned.
“Luke gave Sunshine a bath.” Chris snickered.
“Oh.” Brooke raised a hand to her nose. “That was really nice of you.”
He muttered something under his breath and turned the car toward home. “The dog looks great.”
At home, a fluffy and clean Sunshine greeted them at the door. Brooke ran a hand through the silky fur.
“She looks beautiful and smells even better.” Brooke touched Luke’s arm. “Thank you.”
He flushed. “That’s because she gave me all her stink. I’m going to take a shower.”
Brooke went back to the kitchen. Her floors were noticeably free of fur and dust. She heard the faint buzz of the dryer. He did wash? “Chris, would you go down and get the laundry?”
“Sure, Mom.” A few minutes later Chris brought an armload of towels upstairs. “There’s another load in the dryer. Looks like all the towels we own.” Chris grinned.
She held back a snort of laughter. Barely. She folded towels and stacked them on the table. “It was really nice of him to bathe the dog. You could have done it.”
“I know better.” Chris laughed. He dropped into a kitchen chair and started pulling books out of his backpack.
Brooke eyed the pile of towels on the table. Were there any left? She grabbed the stack and went to the second floor. The upstairs hall was just as oddly clean. She glanced in the bathroom and saw nothing but gleaming surfaces. Her bedroom door was open, the shower running.
She’d just leave the towels by the bathroom door. Except it wasn’t closed. Luke stood in the doorway, wearing what must have been the last clean towel draped around his hips. Oh. She got an eyeful of long, lean man. His muscular chest and shoulders tapered to abs flat enough for a fitness magazine cover. Her libido did a cartwheel, while her imagination was busy editing the previous night’s erotic dreams. Her gaze tracked the sprinkling of hair across his chest down to… “I’m sorry. I thought you might need a towel.”
Red-faced, Luke backed into the bathroom. “I found one, thanks.” He firmly shut the door, leaving Brooke to close her mouth. And possibly wipe some drool from her chin.
Mentally fanning herself, Brooke returned to the kitchen. There was no way she could pretend she hadn’t seen that. Wow. No worries on the tingling thing. She was tingling to her core. Muscles and sexy green eyes aside, how did a woman resist a man who bathed her dog and mopped her floors? He hadn’t done that for Wade. He’d done it for her. He might brush off his protection as a promise to her brother, but this afternoon he’d shown he cared about her.
“Mom, can you check my costume now?” Haley called from the stairwell.
“Yes.” Thankful for the distraction, Brooke grabbed the rarely used sewing kit from the closet.
Haley swept in. A long white robe cinched at the waist by a length of gold braiding, sandals, and a gold-leaf head wreath transformed her daughter into Aphrodite. Haley’s phone went off with the opening chords of a pop tune.
“Hold still.” Brooke lowered her aching body to the floor and eyed the hem of the costume. “You can text him back after I make sure this is straight. Sewing isn’t one of my talents.”
Her daughter lowered the cell phone and grinned. “Sorry.”
“I think it looks good.” Or at least as good as it was going to get.
“I love it.” Haley fluffed the flowing skirt. The dog ambled over and sniffed at the costume. “I’m going to change before Sunshine gets dog hair all over it.” She bounced dow
n the hall, already texting again.
In fresh jeans, Luke entered the room, his damp clothes and towel balled up in his hands. “Did you make her costume?”
“I didn’t have much choice.” Brooke climbed to her feet. Do not picture him naked. Too late. This might get awkward. “The children’s costumes were too small, and the adult costumes were too adult. The packaged costumes should have been labeled GREEK GODDESS PROSTITUTE.”
“I can see where that might be a problem.” Luke’s laugh eased the tension.
“You can just toss those things down the basement steps. I’ll throw them in with my next load. Thank you again for bathing the dog and cleaning the bathroom and mopping the floors.”
With a fresh surge of color to his face, he did as she suggested. “It wasn’t really an option. She got away from me mid-bath.”
“Happens every time.” Brooke covered her grin with a fist. “Coffee?”
“Sure. When is the big Halloween event?” Luke took the mug she handed him and sat across from Chris.
“The Halloween dance is Friday night.” Brooke’s stomach rumbled. She opened the freezer and considered the contents. “Let’s order a pizza.”
“With sausage and pepperoni?” Chris brightened.
She phoned in the order, then filled a mug with fresh-enough coffee, and carried it to the table. Sipping, Brooke slid into the chair next to her son. She fished a Hershey’s Kiss from a small bowl. The chocolate melted in her mouth. Despite her determination to desensitize herself to coconut, she’d chickened out and left the platter of cookies at school. The memories were too painful to bring home, which was ironic because she willingly lived with the horror of Karen’s death every day. Why could she face her friend’s murder but not the happy life she’d lived before violence had ended it? What was wrong with her?
Haley returned, dressed in the skinny jeans and sweater she’d worn to school. She opened her laptop on the table and tapped the touchpad. “Look. Cindy posted pictures of her new puppy.” Haley turned the computer around so Brooke could see the screen. In the photo, a beagle puppy sat on a patch of grass.
She Can Scream (She Can Series) Page 12
