by Brant, Kylie
Mac frowned. “You didn’t hire him just like that, did you?”
She felt a flash of irritation, which she pushed away. After all, he didn’t sound half as judgmental as her father had when he’d found out. He’d wanted her to fire Greg right away and turn her financial matters over to Simon’s private accountant. It had been one more thing they’d disagreed about. Meeting his gaze squarely, she responded, “Greg gave me references, and I checked with all of them. He really knows his stuff.”
“So he’s a better accountant than he is an artist?” he inquired lazily.
She opened her mouth to answer, then shut it. “Much better,” she agreed impishly. “He has as much artistic skill as I have financial brilliance. So actually, we suit pretty well.”
But not as well as Winters would like, Mac thought silently. He made a mental note to check with Trey on anything else he might have found out about the man. There was nothing in Raine’s voice when she spoke of him to suggest more than friendship on her part. Yet Winters’s feelings for Raine were as transparent as glass. From the conversation he’d overheard in the kitchen several days earlier, it was apparent that even Klassen had picked up on them.
The doorbell rang then, and they rose simultaneously. He reached out and captured her wrist. She sent him a silent, questioning look, ignoring the tingling in her skin beneath his fingers.
Giving no explanation, he moved in front of her, then proceeded into the house. She heaved a sigh of resignation. For a few minutes she’d almost forgotten the real reason for his presence here.
“Mac, good to see you again. Where’s my daughter?” Simon Michaels stepped through the door Mac had opened, clasping the younger man’s hand in a hearty shake. Spying Raine coming down the hall he said, “There you are, Raine. I hadn’t heard from you recently, so I thought I’d stop by and see how things are going. Your mother had planned to come, too, but she didn’t have a good day today.”
Concern flared immediately at the mention of her mother. “Has she taken a turn for the worse?”
Simon waved a placating hand. “Now, don’t worry, honey, she’s fine. She just tried to do too much today, and got overtired. You know how I’m always telling her to take it easy. She’ll be more rested tomorrow.”
Raine wasn’t convinced. For as long as she could remember, her father had been protecting his wife, watching over her health with an almost solicitous care. He was capable of overreacting to a normal day’s tiredness, and he was just as capable of glossing over the real state of his wife’s health to avoid alarming Raine. She chewed her lip for a moment, surveying him. “I think I’ll call her,” she said. “Unless you think she’s asleep already.”
“Excellent idea,” he said heartily. “Hearing from you will perk her right up.”
Silently she turned to Mac. He retrieved her cell and handed it to her. Simon cleared his throat. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen, Raine? Then you can talk as long as you wish and we won’t bother you. Go ahead,” he urged as she studied him suspiciously.
She flicked her gaze at Macauley. He inclined his head slightly.
Aware that she was being manipulated, she decided that her concern for her mother was most important at the moment. She turned and left for the kitchen.
As soon as she’d exited, Simon turned to Mac. He’d noted the look the man had shared with Raine but didn’t comment on it. “Well, why don’t you give me a progress report, Mac? Have there been any more threatening letters?”
Mac shook his head. “Not so far.” He gave the man a rundown on the security precautions that had been completed to date.
“That sounds well and good, but what about this maniac who’s been threatening her? I called that damned detective again, and he’s no closer than before to solving this thing. I get the feeling it isn’t exactly high on his list of priorities, either,” Simon added disgustedly.
“I’ve talked to him, too,” Mac said.
“Well? What do you think?” Simon demanded. “God knows, the beefed-up security can’t hurt, but she remains in danger until the person sending these letters is caught. Surely you realize that.”
“What I realize,” Mac returned, in a deceptively mild voice, “is that you set me up when you got me to come out and look things over.” He propped himself against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms.
Simon gave him an impatient look. “What do you mean? I told you that Raine needed your services.”
Mac nodded judiciously. “You did. You said you wanted me to come out, make her home safe, and judge just how much danger she’s in.”
“And that’s just what you’ve done. I don’t know what else you’re talking about.”
“You counted on the fact,” Mac continued softly, “that once I was here I’d talk Raine into my staying. That’s one little fact you forgot to mention, Simon. That you never told her the extent of the job you hired me for.”
The man didn’t bat an eyelash. “What I counted on,” he corrected, “was you. That you’d come here and take care of things. And you’re doing fine, so far. Hell, son, if I hadn’t known you were the man for the job, I wouldn’t have hounded you into taking this case.”
Mac ignored the flattery. “You tried to manipulate me,” he said flatly. “And Raine.” He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. “Don’t try it again.”
Simon’s jaw clenched. The look he’d intercepted between the man and Raine took on a whole new intimacy, and he didn’t like it at all. “You don’t speak for my daughter, O’Neill.”
“I think I do. At least in this instance. And you know it. That’s why you took so long to come by. You were waiting for her to cool down a little before you talked to her again.”
“I’ve been busy, and I knew I could trust you to get things done.”
“There isn’t anything else that you’ve forgotten to tell me, is there, Simon?” Mac asked caustically. “I’ve never been much for surprises.”
There was a moment’s silence as their eyes clashed. Simon looked away first. “You know everything you need to about this case, more than I know, most likely. I have a hell of a lot more faith in you than I do in that overworked detective downtown. You’ll take care of Raine for me, and she’ll get back to the life she was meant to have.”
Mac faced him impassively. “And that is?”
Simon waved a hand carelessly. “Raine needs a husband. She’s a sweet girl, and sooner or later she’s going to meet a nice, respectable young man and settle down. I’ve introduced her to several promising young executives myself. It’s only a matter of time before she chooses one and marries.”
The words were harmless enough, but Mac knew there was a message in them for him. A nice young man good enough for Raine would win Simon’s vote for son-in-law. The description could never be applied to the likes of Mac O’Neill. He shook his head in bemusement. Simon really had the most incredible gall. Mac was good enough to keep his daughter safe, but if it hadn’t been for the threat hanging over Raine’s head, he knew without a doubt that Simon would have preferred Raine didn’t get within ten miles of him. And the hell of it was, he couldn’t fault the man for feeling that way. What he didn’t understand was why Simon thought it necessary to issue the subtle warning in the first place.
Raine’s entry into the room interrupted Mac’s thoughts. “Mother’s nurse said she was asleep. I’ll get in touch with her tomorrow.”
“You do that, honey. And now I’d better go. I have to stop by the office for some files I need to work on tonight.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” she offered firmly.
“No, that’s not necessary—”
“Oh, but I insist,” she said, hooking her arm through his and leading him out. “You and I haven’t really had a chance to talk. And there’s so much I have to say to you.”
Mac’s face lit with amusement. Simon was going to get an earful, that was certain. And somehow he thought Raine might just come out on top in this particular skirmish. Hav
ing been on the receiving end of her temper a time or two himself, he couldn’t help relishing the thought of Simon taking his turn.
Raine sat in the porch swing long after her father had gone. As dusk began to turn to night, she got up and flipped the switch that should have turned on the porch light. Newly installed floodlights shone across the lawn. She tried another switch, and a spotlight that must have been mounted on the top of the house began sweeping the area with a moving beam. Muttering to herself, she gave up and went back to the swing. Macauley had forgotten to explain the extent of the changes he’d made. Feeling like a stranger in her own home, she stared pensively at the shadows.
A couple hours later she was still there. Mac stood in the doorway watching her for a moment.
“Hi,” she said softly, looking up at his arrival. He’d obviously started getting ready for bed. He was shirtless, and she was entranced by the sight of his bare torso gleaming in the partial darkness.
He leaned against the doorjamb. “You going to turn in soon?”
She lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Not yet. Why don’t you join me? Porch sitting is very relaxing, you know.”
“Is that a fact?”
She nodded solemnly. “It’s almost a lost art. Come here, I’ll show you.” She got up and crossed over to him, taking him by the elbow and leading him to the swing. He stood by it, eyeing it suspiciously.
“The first rule of porch sitting is to situate yourself in the most advantageous place possible,” she lectured him with mock solemnity. “This swing will do just fine.” She gave him a slight push and he reluctantly sat down on its slatted seat. “Then, you just sit yourself down . . .” She sat next to him. “Just so.” She pushed off the floor with her foot and sent the swing moving slowly through the air.
After a moment he turned to look at her. “And then what?”
“And then—” her voice was filled with laughter “—you wonder what your neighbors are up to.”
He gave a sound that might have been a chuckle. She turned her head swiftly, captivated by the sound. She caught the remnants of a smile on his firm lips. Her eyes fell to his jaw. For the first time since she’d met him, he was clean-shaven. “You shaved,” she gasped.
He rubbed his chin. “I’m not a complete savage. I shave every night,” he said, half defensively.
Every night. The words conjured up an intriguing mental image. She could picture him, torso bare, leaning toward the mirror, moving the blade up his throat in smooth, sure strokes. She imagined him wiping the foam from his face, slapping on the after-shave she could detect. The vision dripped with sensuality. Shaving at night spoke of habit. A habit acquired so a man didn’t abrade a woman’s softer skin with a day’s worth of whiskers. She took in a shuddering breath, and changed the subject.
“What did you and my father talk about tonight?”
“What’s been done around here,” he answered vaguely.
She arched her eyebrows, waiting for him to go on. When he didn’t she prompted, “And did he approve?”
What a question. Simon’s approval of the measures he was taking to keep Raine safe had been easily apparent. His warning had been equally so. “He seemed to.” After a pause he said, “Is there something wrong with your mother? You and your father seemed rather concerned.”
She gave a gentle sigh. “My mother has a genetic heart condition that worsens with age. She almost died having me.” Her voice softened, and she added, “My father has always protected her, and my brothers and I tried to do the same. We never upset her if we can help it. Stress aggravates her condition.”
“No wonder he seemed so worried about her.”
When he didn’t go on, Raine said wryly, “You can’t fool me. My father didn’t come over here to discuss Mother. He grilled you about this whole mess, and about me. I know him well, remember. That’s why he got me out of the room.”
“Were your ears burning?”
“Still warm,” she said, turning one to him. “Feel.”
Without conscious volition, one long finger reached out and traced the shell-like contours of her ear. It was dainty, just like the rest of her.
Raine turned her head toward him, so his finger touched her cheek, her lips. He left it there for a moment, rubbing softly across that pouty mouth. He felt her mouth open slightly beneath his finger, and he experienced a sudden urge to bend down and press his lips against hers, to see if the easy warmth that was so much a part of her would extend to her kiss. He bet it would. Kissing Raine might be one way to chase the chill away from his own dark soul. Her warmth would spread, stamping out the coldness inside of him. He pulled his hand back at the thought.
Nothing and no one was that warm. He’d been cold for so long he was numb from it. And it was more likely that the ice in him would spread to her. That would be all he needed, one more thing to feel guilty for.
And he would feel guilty, he thought with a glance at those wide eyes gazing at him. He was hired to do a job here, and no woman would interfere with that. He hadn’t needed Simon’s veiled warning earlier to remind him. He couldn’t maintain his objectivity in this case if he got involved with her. But he could no longer deny that the temptation was there.
That ancient resignation he sometimes observed in her eyes still puzzled him. At times he felt compelled to unlock the secret of the ghosts he saw there. But he hadn’t attempted it yet, and he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to learn anything that would draw him closer to her, tempt him further. It wouldn’t be fair, after all, since he fought his own inner battles alone.
But despite those shadows he suspected existed, she managed to radiate an uncommon, pure innocence. Perhaps that was what beckoned to his jaded soul the most, the recognition that something rare was waiting inside her, just within his grasp.
He knew he should get up then, go into the house. But the swing’s rhythmic movements were lulling, and the company was sweet. He felt a wistful yearning that coaxed him to stay even when he knew he should go. Moments like these had been forgotten long ago, but now memories were stirring, and so were other emotions, some better left undisturbed.
He sat in silence next to her, drinking in the night sounds. After a while Raine pulled her feet up beside her and leaned her head against the slatted back. Mac stretched out his arm, and she relaxed against it trustingly.
Staring out into the night, he felt an unusual contentment. It was peaceful to just sit and look at the stars with a woman by his side. A woman who didn’t demand anything from him, not even conversation.
There was something seductive about such a woman, something that beckoned to him. He almost believed that she could banish the darkness inside him. Thinking like that was dangerous. This woman was dangerous.
But she was also enchanting, intriguing.
She sighed and moved a little against his arm. He allowed his arm to tighten around her shoulders as he breathed in her scent.
Captivating.
Chapter 7
Three days later Raine was staring at a blank canvas. She needed to complete one more painting. But inspiration had, for the moment at least, deserted her. Usually she was able to look out her window for a few minutes, then close her eyes, and an idea would start to take shape. These days, all she could focus on outside her window were those ugly yellow signs dotting her lawn, the trucks and the piles of materials out front.
Today’s scene was different from last week’s. There were only two trucks out front, and the noise had shifted. Currently it was coming from the roof. Directly above her, in fact. In frustration she left the room. No one seemed to be in the house, a far cry from the way it had been before Macauley O’Neill had come into her life. Her cell rang as she was on her way out the front door.
She walked swiftly to the library before remembering his order that she wasn’t to pick up the phone herself. But he certainly didn’t seem to be around to answer it. His shirt was hanging on the back of a chair, her phone inside its pocket. The radio he carried to keep in c
ontact with the men was on his desk. After the briefest hesitation, she crossed the room and plucked her cell from his shirt.
“Raine Michaels?”
A feeling of trepidation began to form at the pit of her stomach when she heard the unfamiliar voice.
“Yes, this is Raine Michaels.”
“This is Dr. Dietz, calling from the emergency room at St. Joseph’s Medical Center.”
Her fingers clenched the phone more tightly, guessing what the next words would be, wishing helplessly that she could stop them.
“I’m afraid your mother has been brought in by ambulance, Miss Michaels. The ER crew is working to stabilize her now, but . . .”
Tears formed in Raine’s eyes, and she closed them tightly, as if she could shut out the words. This wasn’t the first such phone call she’d received. But her mother’s health had been precarious before, and she’d always managed to pull through. Always. The word repeated itself in her brain in a litany, even as she forced her question out between numb lips. “What’s wrong?”
“Cardiac distress, Miss Michaels. Your father is with her now, and he asked that I contact you and your brothers. I’d recommend you get here as soon as you can.”
A sob broke through then, and Raine closed her lips tightly for an instant, to stem the rest. “Yes,” she agreed finally, once she was sure her voice would work again. “Tell him I’m on my way.”
“Cheek with admissions when you get here, Miss Michaels. They can direct you from there.”
She didn’t wait for anything more. Cell clutched in her hand, she looked wildly about for her purse. The tears streaming down her face weren’t helping her search any, and she wiped at them frustratedly. Her fingers curled into her palms, and she forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. It wouldn’t help her parents to have to deal with their daughter’s hysterics once she arrived at the hospital.
Calmer, she went to the hallway closet and took her purse from the shelf on which she always kept it. Dropping the cell inside and extracting the keys, she hurried to the garage and backed her white Lexus into the drive. She’d reached the road at the end of the drive when she remembered Macauley’s instructions about going nowhere without him.
