by Day Leclaire
The dog whined in what she chose to take as absolute agreement.
The doorbell rang and Jane reached into the pocket of her lab coat for the atomizer. Should she, or shouldn’t she? So far, she wasn’t doing too well with this particular sample. After spending most of the day in town being avoided by all and sundry, she’d returned home to write up the unspectacular results of her initial trial with Mr. Keenan. Calling the day a total bust wouldn’t come close to describing it.
She tossed the bottle lightly in her hand, nibbling on her lower lip as she considered whether or not to give it one last try. Oh, what the heck? Another attempt wouldn’t hurt. That way she’d know for sure whether this first batch had any redeeming features. She hastily sprayed herself while Dipstick circled, whining in dismay. Shushing him, she opened the door.
Edward stood there, another box in hand. Jane blinked in surprise. “Hello again, Mr. Keenan. Is there something else I can do for you today?”
“Found this just as I was locking up the post office. Since it’s your birthday, I thought you’d want to have it.”
She blinked at the unexpected rush of tears. “Thank you, Edward. That’s very kind of you.”
“Any luck with your experiments?”
“Not unless it’s considered lucky to annoy people.”
“Would you like my advice?”
“To be perfectly honest, I’m a bit advised-out today.”
“I heard the Henderson boys didn’t take your perfume test too well.”
“But I didn’t—” She gave up. No one would believe her, anyway. And why would they? Milton was right. People only saw the scientist because that’s all she ever showed them. No wonder they went out of their way to avoid her. “No. The Hendersons didn’t care for my perfume at all.”
Mr. Keenan nodded in sympathy. “Well, maybe they’ll send up some more students from Seattle.”
“Someone who doesn’t know me, right?” They shared a grin. “Thanks, Edward. I appreciate your bringing this by.”
“My pleasure.”
Returning inside, she closed the door. Dipstick regarded her with an expression she interpreted as saying, “I told you so.”
“Okay, so I shouldn’t have tried the perfume again.” She dropped the glass bottle into the pocket of her lab coat. “If I’d known it was Edward, I wouldn’t have. And if it makes you feel better, I doubt anyone will have any use for this particular perfume. Considering how frank everyone’s being, I’d say this scent works almost as well as my truth spray.”
Dipstick tilted his head to one side, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, his nut-brown eyes filled with doggy sympathy she almost believed he understood everything she said. “Come on, boy,” she said with a sigh.
She proceeded through to the kitchen with the box, dog trailing at her heels, and opened a drawer containing a pair of scissors, a neatly wrapped ball of twine and an extra set of keys to her lab. The items were all arranged in a tidy row. She removed the scissors and carefully cut through the packaging tape before returning them to the drawer. Opening the lid, she removed the card.
“Happy Birthday, Jane. Love, Hickory, Dogg and Rube.” She carefully pushed aside the protective packaging material and removed the hand-blown glass globe inside. It was perfect, absolutely perfect, she thought, smiling in delight.
Carrying the gift into the living room, she straightened a perfectly centered vase and set the huge glass globe next to it, flicking away an imaginary speck of dust from the surface. Both the vase and globe had been created by Josh Simpson, and collecting his artwork was the only bit of whimsy she allowed herself in an otherwise clean-cut world. How sweet of her uncles to add to her collection.
Stooping to examine the globe, she lost herself in the imaginary “planet” Simpson had created from blown glass. Green, brown, red and yellow swirls formed the land portion of the planet, waving fronds of glassy grass almost seeming to drift in an unseen breeze. Surrounding the land formations was a vast sea, the color ranging from a brilliant azure to the palest robin’s egg blue. Sometimes when she was puzzling through a problem, she’d meditate on her dilemma while studying the intricate whirls and colors of the various globes she owned, like some long-ago alchemist searching for answers in a crystal ball.
The glass atomizer weighted her pocket, turning her thoughts to work. Where had she gone wrong with this particular sample? Perhaps she’d put too much perfume in the potion and not enough formula. Or perhaps it was as simple as getting the balance of ingredients wrong. If LP-1 caused anger, at least she was successfully affecting emotions. Now all she had to do was find the one that would inspire love.
Assuming such an emotion existed.
Dipstick released a loud bass woof an instant before another knock sounded at the door. Jane carefully straightened away from the table. Maybe Edward had returned. The thought brightened her right up. Perhaps the perfume had a delayed reaction and he was standing on her doorstep, consumed with love.
The dog galloped to the door ahead of her, skittering on the waxed floor. He was two hundred pounds of shedding hair that she spent hours vacuuming. But she didn’t care. He was the most loving creature she’d ever known—aside from her uncles, that was. He looked over his shoulder at her, eagerly waiting for her to answer the door.
She turned the knob and tugged it open. Taking one look, she realized her birthday had just taken a turn for the better. A man she’d never seen before stood there and she grinned.
The perfect test subject had just arrived on her doorstep.
* * *
FLYNN CAUGHT ONE GLIMPSE of the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen and knew he was in deep, deep trouble. This was Hickory’s awkward, workaholic, socially inept niece? Just one look warned that this succulent bit of femininity was about as safe from him as a nerdy lamb from a not-quite fully reformed wolf. So much for his assumption that he’d be dealing with a Plain Jane.
She was of average height. If he held her in his arms, her head would nestle perfectly beneath his chin. And her hair, though plastered back from her face, was dark blond, highlighted with pale gold streaks. It made him wonder what it would look like if she ever released it from the prison of her various pins and clips. To his amusement, she wore two sets of glasses, one perched on the end of her nose, the other propped on top of her head. The fading sunlight reflected off them and all four huge plastic lenses winked at him, one after the other. For some odd reason he found her protective mask of glasses both vulnerable and endearing. It also made him realize that this woman was far too attractive for his peace of mind.
Only one possibility offered a shot at salvation. Maybe the woman standing in front of him wasn’t Jane, the niece. It was a long shot, considering the uncles had shoved him up onto the front porch of this very house. They’d then hidden behind a huge laurel bush that divided their property from their niece’s. Still, he could hope.
“Jane Dearly?” he asked, praying she’d deny it.
“Yes?”
Damn. “I’m Flynn Morgan. Your uncles sent me.”
“Fantastic. Stand right there,” she ordered.
Hell, who was he to argue? “Okay.”
“I mean it. Don’t move.”
“Not a muscle.”
The door slammed in his face and the uncles, muttering among themselves, shoved through the bushes. Swiveling to glare, Flynn signaled them to return to their hiding places. Hickory and Dogg caught on instantly. Rube took a bit more convincing before he fluttered back behind the greenery, sour ball wrappers floating in his wake.
The door opened again and Jane stood there, her mouth set in a regrettably straight line. It was then that Flynn made a decision. He might be a changed man, but that wouldn’t stop him from doing his level best to coax free another of her incredible smiles.
Far from smiling, disappointment further dimmed her enthusiasm. Apparently, standing there and staring wasn’t what she had in mind. “Hello,” he said, offering a broad grin of appreciation.
Her eyes widened behind the lenses of her glasses and he realized they were a dark green, a color similar to the one that haunted the cool depths of a pine forest. Isolated, untouched, primitive and wary of intruders.
“Hello,” she replied cautiously.
Still no smile. Once they got to know each other a little better, he’d have to explain the importance of lips and teeth on a man. “I’m Flynn Morgan.”
“You mentioned that already. I’m Jane Dearly.”
“I think I mentioned that your uncles sent me. I’m supposed to make an appointment with you to install a security system in your lab, but I heard it’s your birthday today, so...” He whipped out the box of chocolates and bouquet of roses he held behind his back. When she failed to smile, he prompted, “These are for you. Happy birthday.”
“I’m not interested in a security system.”
“Your uncles are. That’s why I’m here.”
Her frown deepened. Definitely bad news. “Let me get this straight. My uncles hired you?”
“Right.”
“For security?”
Her eyes had grown so dark he could barely make out the color. It would seem night had come to the forest. “You can’t be too careful these days,” he said.
Somehow the situation had taken a nosedive, though he couldn’t figure out what the hell he’d done wrong. Most women on the receiving end of chocolate and flowers not only smiled, they tumbled into his arms and thanked him with a full-blown kiss. The sort of full-blown kiss he’d like to experience with Jane. The sort he doubted he’d receive from her any time in the near future. The sort he shouldn’t receive from a client unless he wanted to become reacquainted with Paulie’s fist.
“That’s why you were being so friendly? Because my uncles hired you?” She took a step closer, fanning her hands back and forth as though suffering from a hot flash. “No other reason?”
“It’s your birthday, right?”
“So?”
“So...” He gave the box and flowers a little shake. Rose petals rained downward, settling at his feet. “So, I thought I’d bring you these.”
“Why?”
He fought to enunciate through gritted teeth. “For. A. Birthday. Present. Are you familiar with that custom?”
“Yes.” She eyed the flowers and grimaced. “For hothouse roses, these sure have a strong odor. Here. Let me get these out of the way.” She grabbed the bouquet and held the flowers behind the door. “Now, stand there and take a deep breath.”
“Right.” Flynn made a hasty reassessment of the situation. Tightly wound scientist, gut-wrenching smile, gorgeous eyes—most of the time—and nutty as a sack of almonds. Damn.
“Are you breathing?”
“It’s sort of automatic with me.” She planted her hands on her hips and he released a sigh. She reminded him of the nun he’d suffered as a young schoolboy right before his days at Lost Springs Ranch—a tough old teacher who’d done her best to reform him with the painful end of a ruler. “Yes, I’m breathing.”
“And?”
It took him a full sixty seconds to realize that the truth might actually work to his advantage. “And I like your smile.”
Unfortunately, the truth didn’t work. Pink flared into her cheeks. At a guess, it wasn’t because she had a tendency to blush. She confirmed it the instant she opened her mouth—the same mouth he’d have loved to explore in intimate detail. “You can’t fool me. You’re just saying that because you’re hoping to sell your security equipment to my uncles.”
“Not really,” he said with absolute honesty.
“Tell my uncles I’m not interested in fooling with a security system right now. It’s inconvenient. If they really want to help, they can get me a man. A real man.”
With that she whipped around him and into her house, slamming the door behind her.
CHAPTER THREE
FLYNN ADDRESSED the door knocker. “That went well, don’t you think?” He turned his attention to the trio watching from the massive laurel bushes. “Looks like your plan backfired. You better get on up here and explain the situation to her.”
A whispered consultation followed and he began to suspect it was their normal mode of operation. He filed the information away for future use. It might come in handy at some later time.
Rube emerged from the bushes. “Try it again,” he encouraged in a stage whisper. “Only this time start talking before she slams the door.”
“Use some of that infamous charm of yours,” Hickory suggested caustically. “If that doesn’t work, try sticking your foot in the door.”
Flynn scowled. The hell he would. He was rather partial to his toes right where they were. Damn it all. Why had he agreed to their harebrained scheme, anyway? Because he was a changed man. His mouth pulled to one side, tugging at the bruise, and he winced. Great. Just great.
Setting his jaw at a more aggressive angle, he glared at the door. So how did he win over a logical, emotionally stunted scientist? A scientist, moreover, who had her hair twisted into a knot so tight it gave him a headache, who kept her lab coat on in the privacy of her own home and wore not just one but two pairs of glasses. Those she’d perched on the tip of her slightly upturned nose had huge, red-trimmed plastic frames incongruous against the setting of her delicate features. The secondary glasses—a violently purple-rimmed pair—sat on top of her head, the tips of the earpieces somehow embedded in her tightly bound hair. Maybe she couldn’t get them off. Maybe they’d gotten stuck up there. He closed his eyes, thinking he should ignore the damn glasses and get to work.
He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know the uncles were huddled in whispered consultation. The humor of the situation struck him and he chuckled softly. This had to be a first. He’d never had a woman reject him before. Not once in all his thirty-four years. The adulation had begun at an early age and continued throughout what had passed as his existence to date. And he’d gotten used to it, had accepted it. Hell, he’d come to expect it as his due.
But now, with one look from eyes as rich and fertile and lush as a tree-shrouded meadow, he had been put firmly in his place by a woman who, he didn’t doubt, most unobservant men tended to overlook. She’d seen through the teeth and the boyish sincerity and the practiced charm and the arrangement of features that had never failed to please, despite the fact that they currently sported a walloping bruise.
At least... They’d never failed to please until now.
And the most amusing part of all was that he’d genuinely enjoy getting acquainted with this particular woman. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he was curious to discover what she had hidden beneath her crisp white lab coat. He wanted to know why she felt the need to wear her hair in such a tight twist and why three old men were so worried about keeping her safe that they’d hire a man like him to take care of the situation. But most of all he wanted to know why she kept those mind-drugging smiles all to herself.
Okay, fine. So she didn’t find him appealing. He still had a job to do and an obligation to fulfill. Only this time, he’d do it his way.
Confirming his suspicions about small towns, he twisted the knob and pushed open the door. The dog—what had she called him? Dipstick?—greeted him with an enthusiastic whine and wagged his tail so hard, it threatened the safety of the few pieces of furniture the house contained. With a happy wriggle that left bits of hair spinning around the excited animal, Dipstick launched himself in Flynn’s direction.
Beneath the dog’s exuberant attention, Flynn crashed back against the front door, the animal’s huge paws planted squarely on his chest and an enormous tongue threatening to do serious damage to his face. The dog regarded his newfound friend with golden-brown eyes full of unmistakable mischief, and his huge mouth parted in a big sloppy grin.
Takes one to know one, Flynn decided, returning the grin. “You’re a friendly fella,” he said, giving the dog’s ruff and ears a thorough scratching. “Too bad your mistress isn’t more like you.” The do
g emitted a human-like groan of sheer pleasure.
Jane appeared in the hallway. “What...?” She stared in disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m petting your dog.”
“I can see that. Dipstick! Get down.”
A tiny frown gathered on her brow and he decided he didn’t like it one bit. Last time that expression had appeared on her face, he’d almost kissed wood. She planted her hands on her hips, her glare moving from man to dog. Both lost their big, happy grins beneath her withering reprimand, and Dipstick—the coward—actually tucked tail. Thank God he didn’t have a tail, Flynn decided. How humiliating would that be?
Apparently satisfied that she’d brought them both to heel, she asked, “I meant, what do you think you’re doing in my house?”
“You didn’t lock the door.” He nudged the dog and whispered, “Buck up, buster. Be a man.” To his delight, the dog’s tail reappeared and smacked his thigh with renewed enthusiasm.
Jane’s pretty mouth dropped open, outrage suiting her far better than her earlier frown. “Don’t encourage him. He’s undisciplined enough as it is.”
“Most males are,” Flynn explained very gently.
Aside from a deepening of the rosy color tinting her cheeks, she ignored his observation. “An unlocked door does not give you the right to barge in.”
“No. But it certainly makes it easier for a thief to gain access when you’re not around.”
“A thief,” she repeated, lifting an eyebrow.
He suddenly realized she’d removed her glasses. At least she’d removed the red pair on the end of her nose. The purple ones in her hair remained. Without the huge frames swamping her face, her delicate features were even more apparent. She had softly rounded cheekbones, a firm, stubborn chin and large, almond-shaped eyes, the thick, gold-tipped lashes setting off the unusual color. He could also make out a faint dusting of freckles across her upturned nose. And then there was her mouth, so sweet when it curved into a smile.
Not that she was currently smiling. He sighed. “You don’t think that’s possible, do you?”
