Читать книгу Family of Three - Julianna Morris, Julianna Morris - Страница 9

The Present

“Stupid thing. Won’t fit…blasted…ouch!”

A series of mumbled curses came from under the sink. Two slender legs extended out from the cabinet, and a toolbox lay open with its contents scattered. A well-worn book on plumbing was propped open until the legs knocked against it and the volume fell forward in a heap.

A brown tiger-striped cat sat on its haunches, listening to his human mutter. From time to time he added his own “merowit” to the litany. Abruptly, one of the woman’s feet raised and kicked, and the startled feline jumped straight into the air. With a practiced air of caution, he sniffed the offending foot and meowed.

“Sorry, Captain,” Alysia said breathlessly.

The Captain raised his right paw and licked it. His life was untroubled by such mundane considerations as plumbing.

Another splat of dirty water hit Alysia in the eye. “Jacob Reynolds,” she swore, “I’m going to get even with you.”

Revenge was going to be heaped on the man’s head. She’d been swearing the same thing each day since she signed the three-year lease on his dilapidated house and property. She was definitely going to get even with him.

“Right?” she asked the enormous feline. He stared at her in his sphinx pose and didn’t answer. She grinned.

Abruptly, a loud knocking came from the front of the house, along with the trill of door chimes. Alysia scooted out, wiped her face with her left arm, then adjusted the sling around the plaster cast on her right wrist. She’d had it. Budget or not, she was calling a plumber. A real one. The knocking continued as she hurried to the foyer.

“Just a minute,” she called. Through the beveled-glass inserts of the door she saw a tall man with cool gray eyes and a determined face. “Jeez, another tourist,” she grumbled, even as her heart skipped unaccountably.

Dark and sexy. He looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. In spite of his forbidding expression, there was something appealing about the cleft in his chin, and the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Worry? Laughter? Pain? Her instant attraction to him wasn’t logical, but Alysia rarely concerned herself with logic.

“It’s about time,” the man snapped as the door swung open.

She stretched her five-foot-seven-inch frame to its full height. “The shop isn’t open. Didn’t you read the sign?” Alysia realized she should be more diplomatic, but she didn’t like pushy tourists—even if this one did send flickers of awareness jitterbugging through her veins.

“What shop?”

Her fingers gripped the door. Was he as smart as he looked? Or just a sexy moron? “Down there, it’s called the Captain’s Lair.” She pointed to the large structure, actually an old converted barn, which sat just off the road at the foot of the hill.

“You mean you’ve got some kind of shop in there?”

“It’s an antique store.” She gave in to temptation and shoved the door. Unfortunately, a large male foot obstructed the way. Her only consolation was the wince of pain crossing his bad-tempered face. “Get out of here,” she cried when he pushed inside. “This is my house.”

“Correction.” He whipped around. “This is my house, and I want to know what you’re doing here, and why my key won’t work.”

Startled, Alysia pushed a mass of sun-streaked hair from her forehead. Surely this couldn’t be Jacob Reynolds? The source of her daily frustration? The perpetually unavailable landlord who never returned calls or answered letters? Whose lawyer sounded nice, but put up roadblocks the size of Mount Everest?

Then it struck her. No wonder he seemed familiar—he looked just like the painting of Captain James Reynolds hanging in the study. The first time she’d seen the painting Alysia had felt an odd flash of recognition, and it came stronger now that she was face-to-face with his descendent. They shared the same look of self-assurance, the same authoritative bearing…and the same sensual shape to their lips. The biggest difference was that Captain Reynolds possessed a devil-may-care glint in his pirate’s eyes that his great-grandson decidedly lacked.

“Jacob Reynolds, I presume?” she said with a smile.

“Yes. And answer my questions.”

Alysia laughed. This was going to be fun. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve always believed tenants and landlords should get to know one another.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t anybody’s landlord. She was trespassing on his property, and he wanted her out. Besides, the way she’d said landlord sounded like an insult. Yet…he hesitated. Her green eyes seemed transparently honest and her manner was direct, without the usual feminine coyness.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of scam you have going, but I suggest you leave.” The woman laughed again and he tightened his fists. All his doubts, all his dislike of the old house, came rushing back. Only the knowledge that his fragile young daughter waited in the car kept him from returning to Portland and calling the proper authorities to handle the situation.

“But I have an unbreakable lease.as your lawyer, Matt Braeden, has pointed out numerous times. How could I leave? I mean, how could I want to leave the antiquated plumbing and wiring, not to mention the leaky roof and falling plaster?”

“You can’t have a lease. This was my grandparents’ home and I would never rent it.” Jacob thrust his fingers through his black hair in agitation.

“You certainly did. I’ll show you a copy.” Wheeling around, Alysia marched down the hall and into a side room.

Jacob followed, noticing the paneling on the study walls appeared to have been cleaned—he hadn’t remembered the wood having such a rich patina. He also noticed the woman’s jeans were a snug fit in the backside—the worn fabric molded her curves in a way he couldn’t help but notice.

She yanked a sheaf of papers from a drawer in the captain’s desk and waved it in front of his face. He groaned when he saw the signature. He must have signed the lease in the confused weeks after Tracy’s accident. “Miss—” he checked the name beside his own “—Miss McKenna, this is a mistake.”

“Oh?” She didn’t look particularly sympathetic.

“Yes. I own some other property down the coast, and I thought a dairy farmer wanted to use the land for pasture. It never occurred to me the lease was for the house. You see, I brought my mother and daughter down with me. We’re planning to stay for a while.”

“Really? Where are you going to stay?”

“Here,” he exploded. “This is my house.”

Alysia plucked the document from his hands and surveyed it with a great deal of satisfaction. She was nothing if not stubborn. An hour ago she would have shredded the lease with a sigh of relief. Now she was determined to re main. “This is a legal contract saying it’s mine for the next three years.”

“I’ll buy you out of it.”

“Not interested.”

“I’ll pay you double,” Jacob insisted, resisting the urge to wring the woman’s neck. He abhorred violence, but he’d been through too much during the past few months: doctors, hospitals, hopes raised, hopes crushed, his daughter suffering and discouraged. They desperately needed a change.

“I’m not interested,” she repeated. “I like it, even if it is falling apart. Don’t you care about this place at all? How can you let it fall down around your ears?”

“It isn’t falling down,” Jacob denied, his pride stung by her obvious contempt. And it couldn’t be true. He paid a realty company to check the place regularly and do cleaning. They would have notified him about damages. He explained this fact in clipped tones.

“Sure.” She tossed her head. “They probably came in twice a year and dusted. I also found about a million stupid mousetraps all over the house baited with petrified cheese. No self-respecting mouse would have gone near them.”

“But the yard. it’s in great condition.”

“No thanks to your maintenance company. It needed a lot of work, but it’s been worth it. I just love flowers, don’t you?” she said enthusiastically. “I can’t get much of a vegetable garden started in this climate, but the flowers are fantastic.”

He recalled a brief impression of numerous flower beds and boxes around the house and barn. The overall effect was charming, and Jacob had been pleased by the extra effort made by the caretakers. Now it appeared the realty company wasn’t responsible. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

“Oh no, they’re doing great. Didn’t you see my lobelia and those big, fat petunias?”

“I mean about the house!” From the twitching at the corner of her mouth, Jacob guessed she’d known what he meant. Brat. He swallowed his own flash of amusement. The last thing he needed was to start liking this woman.

“Exaggerating? Just come with me.” Alysia didn’t even check to see if he was following. She began listing the various problems plaguing the crumbling structure, her ire growing with the inventory. She couldn’t believe somebody would neglect such a beautiful old place. His family home no less!

“Did you say dry rot?” he interrupted.

She spun around and poked her finger in his chest. Despite her respectable height he still towered over her. “Yes, dry rot. It’s only affected the north side, but the flooring needs to be replaced in at least two rooms, maybe a third.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Alysia pushed him into the rear parlor and pointed to the gaping hole in the center of the ceiling. “Seeing is believing.”

“When did that happen?”

“Unfortunately, when I was standing on the floor above it,” she said with a dry note. His eyes widened and focused on the plaster cast adorning her right arm. “Exactly,” Alysia informed him. “I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jacob said remorsefully. “You could have been killed. I didn’t know. I’ll pay for the damages. I mean, your doctor bills and such.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Aren’t you worried about being sued?”

Everyone reaches a point when they’ve been pushed too hard, for too long. Jacob had been at that point for months. “Go ahead,” he snapped. They glared at each other.

If the woman wanted to sue his pants off, who cared? There were plenty of lawyers to handle that sort of thing. And thinking of lawyers, he was going to have a word with Matt Braeden about leasing his house to such an obnoxious, abrasive, irritating and graceless female. She was a disaster. The holes in her clothes revealed more skin than they covered—ragged jeans, a sweatshirt stretched and worn beyond all recognition, bare feet and a filthy face. No wonder she had fallen through the ceiling. She was such a mess she couldn’t have done anything else!

“Jacob?” a voice cut through the tension. “Where are you?”

They glared another few moments, then he straightened, taking a few deep breaths. They didn’t help. “In here, Mother.”

“Goodness.” The tall, pleasant-faced woman gazed up at the jagged hole. “How did that happen?”

“Ask Miss McKenna,” Jacob said, stomping out of the room.

As the sound of his cursing faded, Alysia looked with interest at this new person. “Hi, I’m Alysia.”

The older woman smiled, diminishing the worry clouding her eyes. “Jacob can be rude, but he doesn’t mean anything by it,” she said. “My name is Grace Kirkland.” She pointed to the hole in the ceiling. “So, what’s the story. or do I want to know?”

That made Alysia laugh, though the memory wasn’t really funny. “It happened when I fell through from the floor above. The floor sort of trembled and all at once I was flying through the air. I don’t know what hurt worse…my arm, or my pride.”

“Miss McKenna?” growled a now-familiar male voice.

“Mr. Reynolds! I didn’t hear you storm back in.”

He pulled a pen from his pocket and focused on an object in his hand. “I’m writing you a very generous check. We’ll stay in a motel while you move your belongings.” He tore the slip of paper from the book.

Without even reading the numbers he’d written, Alysia ripped the check into several small pieces. Before, she’d been annoyed with him—but not really, truly angry. Now she was livid. What nerve! Stalking forward she dropped the pieces into his breast pocket. “The answer was no, Mr. Reynolds.”

“You can’t insist on sticking to the lease.”

“I’ll stick to it, and you will, too.”

“What lease?” Grace asked calmly.

“The one your son and I both signed and had notarized,” Alysia explained with relish.

Reynolds groaned and started to sink into the nearest seat. She snatched his arm and jerked him upright. “What?”

“Don’t touch anything.”

“You mean I can’t sit down in my own house? I own every stick of furniture in the room.”

“No,” she said impatiently. “I mean, it needs to be restored. Everything in the house needs work. If you sit on that Queen Anne chair you’ll turn it into kindling.” Alysia patted the wood lovingly.

A choked laugh came from Mrs. Kirkland. “Her concern wasn’t for you, son. It was for the furniture.”

“I can see that.” He stared at Alysia as though she were an alien life-form.

Grace cleared her throat. “Do you have someplace we can sit down? Safely?” she asked.

“Sure.” Keeping a wary gaze on Jacob, Alysia led them to the kitchen. A set of oak chairs and a sturdy oak farm table rested in one corner. She motioned. “Have a seat.”

“We have a problem,” Grace said, putting her hands in her lap. “Several months ago my granddaughter chased her dog into a construction site. There was an accident and Tracy was badly injured. She’s had several operations on her back and legs and is better—physically—but emotionally she’s depressed and convinced she can’t walk. The therapist thought a change of scenery would help.”

Alysia nodded. “How awful…! Of course you and your granddaughter can stay. But the ogre leaves.”

“That does it.” Jacob slammed his chair back. “You’re unreasonable and pigheaded.”

“And you’re obnoxious and arrogant,” she insulted back.

“My daughter is waiting in the car. I promised her.”

“Good heavens. She’s out in the car? She must be worrying about what’s going on in here.” Alysia flew out the door.

Startled, mother and son stared at each other. “She’s different,” Grace observed. “Refreshing.”

Jacob ignored the note of amused approval in her voice and glanced around the kitchen. Like the parlor, it seemed brighter than he remembered, except for a mess by the sink. He went closer and crouched, checking the corroded pipes, then picked up a how-to-fix-it book lying by the toolbox. “She wasn’t lying about the plumbing, it’s a wreck,” he muttered. “Looks like she was doing her own repairs. Trying to, at least.”

“She has a lot of energy and enthusiasm,” his mother said, with a hint of calculated innocence in her expression.

He looked up. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

“She might be good for Tracy. Nothing else has worked.”

Jacob rose moodily. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his child, but it was hard to imagine that a whirlwind like Alysia McKenna could be anything but trouble. Even if she did have one of the most desirable mouths he’d ever seen in his thirty-six years—especially if she did. Damnation, he needed his head examined. He did not, repeat not, find her attractive. Unfortunately, his body was rebellious to reasoning. From the moment she’d answered the door, a heavy tension had been growing in the lower region of his anatomy.

“I’ve got to get out there,” Jacob muttered. “Who knows what that woman might say. I don’t want Tracy upset.” His fears appeared groundless, however, when he found Alysia: She was sitting in the car, conversing comfortably with his daughter. Tracy looked quite intrigued with her new companion.

“Poppa, Alythia says I can stay in the tower room, but she needs to fix it up first, so we haf to stay in a motel for a few days,” she said, her faint lisp mostly noticeable when she tried to pronounce Alysia’s name.

“Sweetheart, it would be better if we went home,” he suggested gently.

Tracy’s mouth curved downward, the enthusiasm fading from her eyes. “But I don’t wanna go back. Alythia said there’s a motel in Seaside where you can hear the waves and everything. She’s awful nice. She said we can visit anytime we want.”

“Did she?” Jacob winced. The last thing he wanted to do was “visit” Miss McKenna. Yet Alysia, and her outrageous nature, might succeed in helping his daughter where therapists and doctors had failed. And since he’d already arranged his work schedule to allow an extended leave of absence, it didn’t matter where they stayed.

“She says I can sleep in a real captain’s bed and have a ship’s lantern for my light.” Tracy glanced shyly at her new friend. “Alythia knows all about ships.”

Damnation. Jacob could already guess what the next few weeks would be like—an endless stream of “Alysia saids.”

“Can we stay, Poppa? Please?” Tracy asked hopefully.

Jacob was stuck tighter than a fly in a spiderweb. He knew it. His mother who had followed him outside knew it. And, worst of all, Alysia McKenna knew it. She smiled at him, a wicked gleam of amusement in her green eyes. He sighed.

“Sure, pumpkin, it’s fine. But I need to talk to Miss McKenna alone to, um, make the arrangements. Grandma will stay with you.”

“Yes, Poppa.”

Alysia lightly ruffled the child’s hair and winked. Her first sight of the youngster had twisted her heart. The little girl’s face was white and solemn, and her anxious expression was older than any seven-year-old child’s should be. Alysia had instantly decided she could tolerate the devil for Tracy’s sake.

Besides, it would drive Jacob Reynolds crazy.

Jacob followed Alysia back to the kitchen, questioning his sanity every step of the way.

“So?” she asked, perching on the edge of the sink.

He tried to stay calm. Alysia McKenna had an unnerving way of annoying him. She sat there, swinging her legs like a kid—only no one could ever mistake her for a child, not with that body. And that was the worst part, she had a body that could seriously warp a man’s judgment.

“Er, you won’t have to pay your rent while we’re staying here,” he said.

Her head shook emphatically. “You can’t trick me that way. I’ll go on paying the rent and getting my receipts. You won’t be able to evict me for defaulting on the lease.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” Jacob denied, his pride stinging. He might try- legal means to get her out, but he wouldn’t be underhanded. “I’ll go to Portland tomorrow and have Matt Braeden draw up a financial agreement. His specialty is corporate law, but he’s good on any contracts.”

“I’m going, too.”

“Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does to me.” She crossed her arms over her stomach, her generous mouth set mulishly. “I want to meet this Matt and explain the conditions myself.”

“God, you’re suspicious.”

“I wonder why?” Alysia asked, her tone sarcastic.

Jacob held up his hands in defeat. “All right. I’ll come by in the morning and we’ll go up together. Does that make you happy?” She muttered something he couldn’t understand, but he suspected it wasn’t nice. Sighing, he decided to pretend she’d agreed. “My next concern is the house. I’ll get a crew of men here as soon as possible. They’ll fix everything.”

“No.” Her chin raised when he started to protest. “I won’t have heavy-handed construction workers messing up this beautiful Victorian. It needs to be restored by an expert.”

“But I’m an architect. I think I’m capable of having the job done right.”

“I’m talking about a historical building. Restoration is completely different from architecture.”

Jacob rubbed his forehead wearily. “You said the plumbing and wiring is antiquated. That doesn’t sound safe. I don’t want my daughter in a place that isn’t safe.”

“You should have thought of that earlier. Didn’t it occur to you the house could be falling down, despite your wonderful caretaker? No one has lived here for over twenty years.”

A lot of things hadn’t occurred to Jacob, including the possibility of having a strange, tawny-haired young woman camped in his grandparents’ home. “Let’s argue about it later. Tell me, what makes you such an expert?” he asked.

“Oh, that.” She shrugged. “I have a bachelor’s degree in archaeology, and a master’s in history. I also did an internship with the Smithsonian,” she offered. “And I worked for a museum in Philadelphia for a few years.”

He could hardly believe it. Jacob could have sworn she wasn’t more than twenty years old. Master’s degree? Smithsonian internship? What was she doing on the Oregon coast running an antique store? She had to be nuts. “Will you at least agree to plumbers and electricians?”

“Only if I get to pick them. If you don’t mind, that is,” she said without a pause. “They aren’t expensive and they know what they’re doing.”

“They must be paragons if you recommend them,” he murmured. “Being such an expert yourself.”

Alysia just laughed at the mocking barb. She was still rather annoyed with Reynolds—but she could see his exhaustion and knew his daughter’s accident must have affected him deeply. He seemed devoted to the child. Had worry caused the faint frosting of silver at his temples?

A man who loved his child so much couldn’t be all bad. For a moment she was tempted to forget her claim on the house. She wanted to stroke his face and soothe the tired lines. Alysia grinned wryly, imagining his expression if she tried. Jacob Reynolds wasn’t the type to be soothed. He was a four-square American male, the kind who wanted their women helpless and clinging. Could a man like that ever change? It was an interesting thought. Challenging. She liked challenges.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said in a friendlier tone than before. “You can hire a crew to repair the dry rot on the north side, and they can finish repairing the roof.”

“Finish?” he echoed.

“Yeah. I did some of the repairs before I broke my arm.”

“You were up on the roof? That’s dangerous.” Jacob jumped to his feet and stomped around the large kitchen. “I won’t have it,” he said without thinking.

Sticking her feet out, Alysia contemplated her toes. She wiggled them experimentally. “That’s an atavistic male response,” she informed him. He wheeled and glared at her. “And useless, since you don’t have the right to order me around.”

“I’m not ordering you around,” Jacob said stiffly, knowing he’d blundered. But damn it, he didn’t want her on the roof! Wasn’t one broken arm on his conscience enough? Just then she tried to scratch under the edge of her cast, making him feel an added stab of guilt. “This is still my house. I don’t want you risking your neck on my property.”

“The roof needed to be repaired,” she declared. “What should I have done. waited for an act of God?”

“I didn’t know about it.”

“Your lawyer did.”

He opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. Matt had been trying to contact him but he’d ignored the messages. “I’m sorry. My life has been a little hectic.”

“That’s okay.” Alysia could afford to be generous. The house would be restored her way—with care and love—and it would stop draining every penny of her reserves.

“Why did you choose my house?” Jacob asked, defeated. “For that matter, what made you choose the Oregon coast?”

“I liked it.”

“Is that all? You must have checked into the market potential here…the business prospects for antique sales.”

She shook her head. The decision to quit her job and move to the Northwest had been spontaneous. Alysia had been poking around Astoria when she’d run across the deserted house and barn. She’d been enchanted and outraged at their condition. Local legends said the place was haunted, particularly the nearby ocean bluff. But legends didn’t scare Alysia, neither did hard work.

“But you must have checked. You signed an extended lease, for heaven’s sake,” Jacob exclaimed, offended that anyone, even a scatterbrained brat, would be so reckless. “Don’t you know anything about business? It usually takes years to start making a profit. And out here…you’re not even in town. You can’t survive in the country.”

She chuckled. “I’m already doing quite well. Although, my profits have been eaten up trying to repair the house.” Her eyes darkened to a mischievous jade green. “But I’m sure it will get better now that you’re here—the big strong man, capable of handling things for a helpless woman.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Sorry.” Alysia grinned, unrepentant. In a funny sort of way he looked just like a grumpy little boy. His dark hair was mussed from his fingers and he had absentmindedly tugged the confining tie from his neck. It was kind of endearing.

She hadn’t told him the whole truth; she hadn’t felt it necessary. Actually, Alysia was quite capable of managing a successful business. In addition to her position at the museum, she’d been doing antique restoration for years, along with a kind of “finders” service for the filthy rich. If someone wanted a particular antique—say a Louis XV bombe chest—then she found it. Her clients were the sort of people who didn’t care how much a thing cost as long as they got it.

“What made you decide on my house?”

“The Captain.” Alysia pointed to the corner of the

kitchen, where a wicker basket rested next to the cast-iron wood stove. A pair of sleepy eyes peered over the rim of the basket.

“Good God, it’s a cat.”

“Perceptive of you. Don’t you like cats?”

“I can’t stand them.”

“Oh.” She nodded in understanding. No wonder they clashed. Cat people and noncat people were mixtures that simply didn’t work. “I’ll bet you like dogs.”

“That sounds like a criticism.”

“I like dogs well enough.” Alysia jumped down from the counter and crossed to the basket. The Captain deigned to let her scratch behind his ears. A purr rumbled from his broad chest. “But dogs are slaves. Cats are citizens.”

“That’s absurd. Felines are unpredictable, stubborn and egotistical. Dogs are much nicer.”

The Captain rose and stretched, then jumped out of his nest. He weaved around Alysia’s legs. “I like their independence,” she said calmly, wiggling her toes in the animal’s long fur.

“What did that rotten animal have to do with your picking this house?” Jacob asked, stepping closer.

Alysia bit her lip, distracted by her unusual response to Jacob’s presence. Her skin tingled and her pulse was definitely faster than normal. Goodness, she’d been living like a hermit too long. Sure, the man had a body that appeared scrumptiously proportioned under his formal attire, but she’d never been the weak-kneed type of female.

“Well?” he prompted.

She glanced up. “Um, I was looking around the property when I heard this howling in the barn. Somehow he’d gotten trapped and was making a fuss. Anyway, no one claimed him. He acted so much in charge that I called him ‘The Captain.’ When I learned a sea captain built the house, it seemed to be fate. I made a few calls and wound up leasing the place.”

Jacob glared at the feline. The Captain opened his mouth and yawned, revealing an impressive set of teeth. “I—”

“Son? What’s taking so long?” Mrs. Kirkland appeared at the door of the kitchen. She smiled at the younger woman.

“I’m coming in a minute. Is—” he hesitated “—is Tracy upset?”

“No, not at all. I haven’t seen her this animated since before the accident. Apparently Alysia mentioned the Reynolds ghost. Your daughter is quite intrigued.”

He rounded on the talkative culprit. “How dare you? You might have scared her silly!”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Kirkland interjected. “Children love stories about haunted mansions. You always did. Remember? You used to beg me to tell you about Alice’s spirit, forever doomed to walk the sea cliffs. You found it quite fascinating.”

Alysia raised her eyebrows. “Ghosts and ghoulies? Why, Mr. Reynolds, I would never have guessed.” The man looked thoroughly annoyed that his childhood foible had been revealed.

“Forget it.” Jacob turned to his mother. “I’ll be just a little longer.”

“All right, but try not to be too long.”

Jacob glanced back at Alysia, leaning nonchalantly against the wall. In the low evening light the smudges on her face were invisible, but the supple curves beneath the disreputable sweatshirt were still evident. He hadn’t missed her reaction when he’d stepped close to her—it was the only time in the entire conversation when she hadn’t been in complete control. Intriguing. Of course, she wasn’t his type. Too brash, too unfeminine, too tomboyish, too everything.

But intriguing nonetheless.

“Tell me, Miss McKenna,” he said softly. “How much do you charge for services rendered? On restoration. of course.”

Alysia’s eyes widened. He might be referring to business, but somehow the air had gone from crackling with animosity to being supercharged with sexual innuendo. She thrust her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans, not wanting to be betrayed into covering her breasts. It was bad enough that her nipples had hardened into revealing awareness, but she didn’t want to act as if it mattered.

“It depends,” she drawled. “On the individual customer and the work needed.”

“Really? Give me an example. How much do you charge for restoring, say, Queen Anne chairs?” He leaned forward, a slight smile playing on his mouth and looking uncannily like hisseafaring great-grandfather.

Alysia’s pulse jumped. The man beneath the stuffed suit had potential, and he was lethally attractive when he wasn’t frowning. “Er, it depends on the condition of the chair, and who’s asking for restoration.”

“You charge different amounts for different customers?”

“Why don’t you just ask me what you want to know,” Alysia snapped. She didn’t like subtle games of ambush and snide innuendo, and she suspected Jacob Reynolds was trying to scare her off. Buying her off hadn’t worked, nor had threats of legal maneuvering. Maybe he thought she would turn tail if he made a sexual pass. Fat chance.

“I was wondering about the house. How much would you charge for the restoration? Provided I’m willing to pay.”

His tone sounded more normal, but she remained suspicious. “I’ll give you a bargain. Ten thousand. And you pay for the materials, plumbers, electricians and carpenters.”

“That’s ridiculous. I thought you said you were a businesswoman,” he said, disgusted. “Restoration on this scale could cost fifty thousand, maybe more.”

Alysia breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Reynolds had returned to his normal persona—self-righteous, insulting and snooty. “How I run my business is none of your concern.”

Her tawny hair was a golden halo in the fading light and Jacob stepped forward, gaze fixed on her cat green eyes. She was just like a feline. Unpredictable, unreasonable, all silken fur and steel claws. He didn’t like cats and he didn’t like Alysia McKenna. He especially didn’t like the way he felt when he was near her—turned on and inclined to abandon control.

“You’re a disaster,” he said deliberately. “I don’t like earthy women with dirty faces and bare feet. Your hair is a mess,” Jacob touched the shimmering mane. It felt clean and soft. He tugged his finger through a snarl and caught a faint whiff of fresh mint. “You’re pushy and in my way.” His thumb stroked the line of her jaw, then drifted around her ear.

“You’re not my type, either.”

He swallowed. He’d only intended to startle her with his suggestive approach, but the throaty, hoarse sound of her voice did something to his gut. He flattened his palms on the wall on either side of her shoulders.

“I don’t think…type is the issue,” he whispered.

“You never know. But I guess it doesn’t matter, since we’re stuck with each other.” Her faint smile challenged him.

Jacob leaned closer and caught her mouth. He was right, she had a delicious mouth, pure fire. He fought an insistent urge to lift her against the wall and fill her body with his own. It wasn’t like him, but neither was the ill-tempered maniac who had yelled and tried to pay her off.

There was something about Alysia McKenna that knocked him off balance. Her clear gaze seemed to look straight into his soul, which was absurd; he couldn’t trust a woman like that.

He pushed a few inches away and looked into her changeable eyes. No longer catlike, they were the dusky green of a stormy sea. Angry? Aroused? He couldn’t tell. Quick, shallow breaths lifted her breasts and the worn fabric did nothing to conceal their thrusting, unfettered shape.

“Was that supposed to prove something?” she asked.

“Chalk it up to letting off steam, clearing the air.” Jacob glanced down her body again. He had the overwhelming feeling she would be sensational in his bed, but dynamite in his life—dynamite as in exploding, disastrous, upsetting and utterly a problem.

Alysia cleared her throat. His hands were still planted on the wall beside her shoulders. “Are you done?” she asked.

He smiled lazily. “When I’m done you’ll know it.”

“Is that a reference to your sexual prowess? Or were you referring to the matter of my lease?”

“You’re direct.”

“I try to be.” Alysia slid her hand around Jacob Reynolds’s neck and drew his face down. She could play this game, too. Her kiss was brief but expertly placed. “There,” she breathed against his mouth, her tongue flicking his lower lip. “Now the air is clear.”

“Is that the only reason you kissed me?”

“Sure,” she said smoothly. “We’ll soon be living together. Even people who dislike each other can wonder what it would be like to kiss that other person. Any possible curiosity is now satisfied. You’ve taken a turn and I’ve taken a turn. Nothing happened. End of problem.”

Her eyes were back to that catlike glow, and Jacob knew it wasn’t so simple. Something had definitely happened. “Then I’d better leave while the count is even.”

In the hall, Jacob shook his head in an attempt to clear the sensual fog surrounding him. Deep in thought, he failed to notice the feline conveniently situated on the staircase. A lightning paw reached through the railing and swiped down his shoulder, missing his ear by a fraction of an inch.

Jacob whirled and snarled wordlessly. The Captain spat back. The battle lines had been clearly drawn.

“This is my house.”

The Captain spat again.

“You’re as unreasonable as your owner.” But nowhere near as tantalizing.

The staccato raps of the cat’s tail against the staircase echoed in the quiet house.

“I hope you break that tail.”

He heard Tracy from the car. Incredibly, she was laughing. It had been a long time since he’d heard her laugh. “Lay a paw on my daughter and you’re cat soup,” he warned.

Whiskers twitched.

“Damn,” Jacob muttered. “Threatening a cat. I’m losing my mind.”