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“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.”
