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Then he wrote a bestselling novel and the publisher wanted the second book on the two-book contract he’d signed, but he was late turning it in. What if he was a one-hit wonder? Maybe he was only good at soldiering. If he had to throw in the towel on this book, that would prove he’d been right.
The sheriff’s words from yesterday drifted through his mind.
“Work in progress, my ass,” he mumbled. He didn’t need luck as much as inspiration.
There was a knock on the door and since he used the living room of the upstairs apartment for his office, technically the knock was on the office door. If he said nothing, would she go away?
Erin opened it and poked her head in. “Reporting for duty, sir.”
Nine on the dot. It was as if she was punching a time clock. Harley ran inside and settled in his bed next to the desk. Little traitor had been hanging out with her.
Instead of inspiration, what he got was another challenge. “I work alone.”
“Not any more” was what he expected out of her but that’s not what she said.
“Let’s talk about the book.” She moved in front of the desk.
It was exactly what she’d said yesterday. “I’m a writer, not a talker.”
A look crossed her face that said she’d noticed. “Tell me about the story. This is the sequel to High Value Target, so the hero is Mac Daniels.”
He nodded an answer, if only to prove that he was telling the truth about the writer-versus-talker thing.
She tilted her head and shiny, gold-streaked brown hair slid over her shoulder. “I’m curious. When you named this character, did you mean for it to rhyme with Jack Daniel’s, the whiskey? An inside joke? Or was it coincidence?”
Sharp girl, he thought. But the only answer he gave her was a small smile.
“Okay then. Moving on.” She settled a hip on the corner of the desk and met his gaze. “I read the first book. Mac was a reluctant hero and took down the bad guys. What is his goal in this book?”
Jack wanted to squirm and this is where Ranger training came in handy, other than a war zone, of course. He’d learned how to stay in one position without moving for hours. “Mac is trying to stay alive.”
“It’s a good goal.” She thought for a moment. “So who or what is standing in his way?”
“You mean who’s after him?”
“Is someone after him? If so, why?”
Jack was still working out those details. It was what he did. On his own. This was his work-in-progress. His office. And that reminded him. “Look, Erin, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
“Okay. That’s what I’m here for.”
“I’m not comfortable with this arrangement.”
“And I’m not leaving.” Her eyes flashed and her expression was locked and loaded on stubborn.
“No. I meant you bunking down up here.” With unfettered access to his office. On top of that, the whole place was now filled with the scent of sunlight and flowers. And...her. How was he supposed to concentrate when his work space smelled like a girl?
“If you’d like I can pitch a tent outside,” she said with more than a little sarcasm.
Jack wondered if that look on her face frightened the teenage boys in her English classes. It sure didn’t work on him. For over ten years his job had been about dealing with life-and-death conflicts. Erin Riley didn’t intimidate him at all.
“That won’t be necessary.” Although the idea was interesting, she didn’t look like an outdoors kind of woman. More a hotel-and-happy-hour type. When she’d shown up and made it clear she wasn’t leaving, he’d figured the spare room up here would be best. It wasn’t. “I’d like to move you into the spare room downstairs.”
“I don’t want to throw your routine off—”
“Too late.” He leaned back in his chair. “The thing is, if I want to work during the night, I wouldn’t want to wake you.”
“Whatever you want.”
Jack happened to be looking at her mouth when she said that and the words turned into something that was a very bad idea. “Okay, then. Your job is to move your things to the spare bedroom downstairs.”
“And afterward?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t have much. That won’t take very long. I’m here to assist. Tell me how to do that.”
Yesterday at Bar None she’d introduced herself as his research assistant. That gave him an idea. “You know, it would help if you looked some things up for me.”
“Great.” That put the splashes of gold back in her green eyes. “What?”
“Why don’t you go ahead and pack your stuff up and take it downstairs. I’ll have a list ready when you’re finished.”
“Okay.”
Erin disappeared down the hall but unfortunately the scent of her skin lingered in his work space. Later he would figure out how to man this place up again, but right now he had to do something to keep her busy and out of his hair.
Jack searched gold and diamonds on Google, figuring either one could put Mac Daniels’s life on the line. As he browsed, something caught his eye. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend. Say it with diamonds.
Erin came back into his office with her rolling suitcase and a bag she held in her hand. He had a sneaking suspicion that whatever made her smell so good was in the little one.
“I’ve got everything,” she said cheerfully.
“That didn’t take long.”
“Told you it wouldn’t.” She headed for the door.
“Do you need help with those bags?”
“No. You keep working. I’ll be back shortly to help.”
Jack waited for the door to close and noted that Harley stayed where he was in his bed. “Good move, buddy. Never bite the hand that feeds you.”
He typed in some more search words and scrolled through articles, information and sources for all the material. It was interesting stuff, not relevant to his writing, but she might get something out of the research. He printed out a list of topics then went back to his Mac Daniels file.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said to the blank screen, where his fictional character waited for a story. “You’ve been out of the military for a while and all you’re good at is war and training for it. In the first book an old girlfriend sucked you into using those skills. You can handle yourself in a fight because you’re trained to beat the crap out of bad guys. Now what?”
Except for the ex-girlfriend-rescue part that pretty much described himself, not Mac Daniels. Jack made a disgusted sound then leaned back in his chair. He was a piece of work, talking to himself. Well, not technically, since Harley was here, but too close for comfort. At least he knew his own flaws and keeping them to himself was the best way to control them.
There was a knock at the door then Erin poked her head in the room and smiled. “I’m back.”
“Like the Terminator,” he mumbled.
“I love that movie.”
“Really?” He pegged her as more of a romantic-comedy type.
“Yes. You know romance is at the heart of the story.”
“No pun intended.”
She smiled. “What woman wouldn’t want to hear, ‘I came across time for you, Sarah.’”
Jack had never met a woman he’d want to time-travel for. But that was the best segue he could have hoped for. He pulled the sheet from his printer and held it out. “Your research topics.”
“Right. I can’t wait to get started.” She took the paper and scanned it. To her credit, her perk factor only slipped a little.
The average person probably wouldn’t have noticed. Jack was surprised that he had.
Her gaze settled on his and the vivid green was back. “The fine art of romantic talk?”
“Dialogue.”
She glanced down at the paper. “A hundred and one ways to be romantic?”
“Mac spent a lot of time in a war zone.” He shrugged as if to say that explained all.
“Understanding the female mind?”
“If he ever wants to get lucky, Mac might need some help.”
There was a skeptical look on her face—she was suspicious and just a little annoyed. “These topics are important for an action-adventure book...why?”
Jack realized she’d already given him the answer to that question. “The Terminator effect.”
“As it happens, women don’t typically understand the male mind, either. I need more than that to connect the dots.”
“You said you like the movie because there’s a romance at the heart. It crosses genres and broadens the appeal.”
“And?” One eyebrow rose.
“Maybe if Mac has a relationship it could expand my readership to women.”
Her eyes narrowed and the I’ve-got-your-number look was back. “You don’t fool me, Jack.”
“I wasn’t trying to.” Did a half truth make something an out-and-out lie?
“Oh, please. This is you patting me on the head and telling me to run along.”
“Not true.”
“So in all of your own experience you’ve never sweet-talked a woman? Never made a romantic gesture? Or two?”
“Hard to say. I tried.” With his ex-wife. But he didn’t think she left him for lack of romance because she stayed for years while he went through numerous deployments. She left when he didn’t re-up with the army. “But does a guy really know if he hit it out of the park with a woman?”
“You really don’t know how to read people?”
“Hence the research for understanding the female mind,” he pointed out.
She made a show of folding the paper and sticking it in the pocket of her jeans. “I’ll do the research. But don’t for a second believe that I don’t know what you’re up to. This is all about keeping me at a distance.”
Jack didn’t get a chance to respond because she turned and walked out of his office. Just as well. He needed to get to work. And she was wrong about his goal. The phony research wasn’t to keep her at a distance, but to keep her in the dark about the fact that he didn’t have a story. With luck he could fix the problem before she figured out what was going on.
The good news was that it was now quiet enough to work. And the bad news was he had to put some words on that blank page. And, damn it, he could still smell the scent of her skin. That brought to mind images of her smile and the fact that as hard as he’d tried to make her, she wouldn’t back down from him.
Harley stood in his bed glancing from him to the door where Erin had exited. “Yeah, I know, buddy. I’m as surprised as you are that it’s not so bad having her around for a distraction.”
Chapter Three (#ulink_b2be42bf-e6c4-5d6f-8272-77d31cf0cfd2)
In her new room Erin lay on her back trying to get to sleep, but the sound of pacing upstairs was distracting. So much for not waking her if he couldn’t catch some z’s and decided to work. Hard to type when you weren’t sitting in front of a computer.
She was on the futon in the spare bedroom downstairs and it was surprisingly comfortable. That wasn’t to blame for her restlessness; that was Jack’s fault and not just on account of his walking back and forth, hitting that one squeaky board every time. Earlier he had opened the futon to make it flat and she’d been mesmerized by the play of muscles underneath the smooth material of his snug T-shirt.
Then she thought about one hundred and one ways to be romantic. Bring a woman flowers. Make her breakfast in bed. Surprise her with a B and B weekend. Picturing Jack doing any of those things made her smile. Forget romantic. He was barely civil.
A different sound caught her attention. The door to the upstairs apartment closed and heavy footsteps sounded on the outside stairway. Erin tensed, waiting to hear him come inside. She could feel him when he was nearby and every cell in her body seemed to say “notice me.” Which, of course, was never going to happen.
A few minutes passed and she still didn’t hear him come inside. Wide-awake now, she tossed the sheet aside and turned on the light. The room was pretty big but had no personality. Unpacked boxes were stacked on the opposite wall. A lamp sat on what looked like an apple crate turned on end.
Erin grabbed the lightweight summer robe that matched her white cotton nightgown and slipped her arms into it. She pulled the pink satin tie tight around her waist, then let herself out of the room. It was time to find out if there was anything wrong. Then maybe she could get to sleep. One needed all of one’s strength to deal with Jack Garner.
The house was dark and she felt for the hall switch to turn on the light. Brightness spilled into the empty living room. Cool air from outside washed over her and she realized that the front door was open. Looking through the screen, she saw Jack on the porch, staring out at the marina and Blackwater Lake beyond. She turned on the lights in the living room.
Barefoot, she walked outside and let the door close behind her. Between the lights and the screen door it was enough to guarantee he wouldn’t be startled. “Is everything all right, Jack?”
He didn’t flinch in surprise or bother to look over his shoulder for that matter. “Fine.”
“It’s late.” Duh.
“Not for me.”
She moved forward a couple of steps. Earlier when he’d asked her to move downstairs, she’d figured it was about keeping her away from his office space. The part about him working at night didn’t ring true, but apparently she’d been wrong. “So you’re up at night a lot?”
“Yeah.” He finally turned to look at her. “You learn to sleep light, one eye open, waiting for something to happen.”
“Doesn’t sound restful.”
“It’s not.” He slid his fingertips into the pockets of his worn jeans. “But you get used to functioning on little to no sleep.”
