So how did she earn her living?
He’d noticed a desktop computer on a table in the living room and a laptop on the coffee table. Maybe she did something online. Telemarketing? Gambling? None were illegal. Could she be in the online adult entertainment business? That was also perfectly within the law. He wasn’t old fashioned, despite her belief. If a woman wanted to make a living by removing her clothes and remotely fulfilling men’s fantasies, it was their business. She had the body, the face and a mouth that inspired fantasies. He reigned in his.
Cursing, Eddie put the glass down, pulled off his shirt and jeans. In his swim trunks, he walked to the end of the pier and dove in. A swim would cool his blood. Maybe make him rational.
Thirty minutes of attacking water brought him no closer to feeling better. He was lusting after a woman he barely knew. He pulled himself up the ladder, forked fingers through his hair and looked toward the house. Amy was inside somewhere. The thought filled him with anticipation he couldn’t explain. He squashed it.
Raelynn and her admirers were busy doing their sand thing. Having them so close to the water bothered him. Being a cop, he tended to see safety concerns an average person missed or ignored. There was a pole by the pier with life jackets for kids and adults. A few donut-like flotation water toys were also looped on another pole.
With the kids’ high-pitched chatter in the background, Eddie finished reassembling the engine. He replaced the manual in the storage box, grabbed his shirt, jeans and the tray with the empty pitcher and glass, and started for the house. The kids were creating trenches and sand hills, but from the sounds of things, Raelynn was in charge.
“The river goes that way,” the little girl said as he approached them.
“But rivers flow downhill,” one of the boys said. “My mommy said so.”
“Well, my mommy said Sand-o-ville is my town, so I make the rules,” Raelynn said and cocked her head. “I say the river goes
that way
.”
Eddie grinned when the boys gave in. Smart move.
Never argue with a woman who’s made up her mind about something.
The grin disappeared as he debated his next move. It wasn’t his place to talk to these kids about safety around water, yet the cop in him couldn’t leave it alone.
“Hey,” he said, squatting at the end of the sand mound.
Three sets of eyes looked at him. Raelynn’s were wary, the boys’ curious.
“Are you done with the boat, Mister Fizz,” the dark-haired boy said, the one Amy had called Jimmy.
“I told you not to call him Mr. Fizz. His name is Mr. Eddie,” Raelynn corrected her friend in a stage whisper.
“I’m almost done, Jimmy. I need to get parts first.”
“How do you know his name?” Raelynn asked, forgetting to be shy.
“Because I…am a magician. Let me see.” Eddie pressed his fingers to his temple and squinted at Raelynn. “Your name is…rrr…Rae…Raelynn.”
The boys laughed, but Raelynn studied him suspiciously.
“What is his name?” she pointed at the red-headed boy.
Eddie closed his eyes and hummed. He opened an eye to study his captivated audience, closed it then opened the other. “I see it now. His name begins with an S. Sssssaaaam. Sam.”
“That’s right. My name is Sam.”
“What other tricks do you know, Mr. Eddie?” Jimmy asked.
“A lot. You know what else is magical?” Eddie continued. “Life jackets. Like those ones over there.” He nodded toward the pole. “They stop you from drowning.”
“They are not magical,” Raelynn corrected him with an eye roll. “They are filled with foam that floats in the water, so it makes you float too. Mommy said I cannot go on the pier or in the water without wearing one. That’s why I play right here. I don’t like wearing them.”
“Your mom is one smart lady, Raelynn. You should always listen to her.”
“I know. And she has X-ray vision too. She can see me even when she’s not here.”
“My mom has invisible eyes in the back of her head,” Jimmy added.
“Mine too,” Sam said.
Eddie was still laughing when he entered the house. Kids could be so rational one minute then do an about face and say something totally illogical the next. Amy wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, which was spotless. He followed some noises, curiosity turning into something else when he walked into his bedroom and found her seated on his bed, a pillow in her arms.
“What are you doing?”
Amy looked up, her heart skipping. For such a large man, he was sure soft-footed.
“Making your bed.” She fluffed the last pillow and placed it against the headboard then reached for a second pillow case.
“No.” Eddie entered the room, his gaze sweeping the room. He frowned at his jeans and shirt, folded and placed on the bench at the foot of the bed. “No making my bed, Amy. And absolutely no picking up after me.”
“I stripped the beds after your aunt and her friends left but forgot to replace the sheets and pillow cases.
How could you sleep on this with only one blanket?”
“I was too tired to care. Come on.” He removed the pillow from her hand, then placed a hand on her back and nudged her toward the door. “Go. I’ll finish in here. I told you I was capable of taking care of myself.”
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to tell me twice.” She could feel the warmth from his hands on her shoulders. It spread, making her feel deliciously warm.
Think of something mundane, Amy. Lauren. Your best friend. She wants him.
The thought killed her libido faster than a dunk in ice-cold water. “I saw you talking to the kids.”
“Yeah, I acquired a fan, and it wasn’t Raelynn. She is one smart little girl.”
“I wish I could take all the credit. She can also be very stubborn.”
“So can I. What are we having for lunch?”
He was hungry already? She looked at her watch. It was a little after ten. “Uh, I hadn’t thought about it. Soup and sandwiches.”
He cocked his brow. “Tofu?”
“Ha…ha, ha. I happen to have oven-roasted chicken breast cold cuts and turkey bologna.” She wagged her finger in his face. “No snarky comments about my bologna. Lunch is hours away, so if you want to eat something now, I’ll show you where I stash the snacks.”
“Like what?” he asked suspiciously.
“Pita chips and humus.” He tried to keep his face straight, but she saw his grimace. “Chocolate chip cookies? Tortillas and salsa?”
“Now you’re talking my language.” His lips curled up, gray eyes twinkling. “I’ll be out after a shower.”
Amy stared at him with wide eyes. That smile, phew. Shaking her head, she headed toward the kitchen, aware he was watching her from the doorway. She didn’t look back. There was no reason to. No matter how charming and attractive he was, nothing would come from dwelling on it.
Right away, she noticed the tray. How courteous of him. She rinsed the pitcher and glass then started on a smoothie, using frozen fruit and plain yogurt. Pouring it in four cups, she added straws, placed them on the tray and took them outside.
“Smoothie anyone?” she called out and laughed when the three kids dropped their buckets and raced toward the house. “Wash your hands first.” She waited until they were seated around the patio table before asking, “Anyone want cookies too?”
“Me…me…” they chorused.
“I’m allergic to peanuts,” Sam said.
“I know, sweetheart. These are oatmeal cookies.” She went to get the cookies and thought she heard Eddie enter the room, but when she turned around, no one was there. She hoped the children didn’t scare him off. While they worked on their snacks, Amy brought out her laptop, fired it up and settled on the fourth chair.
Keeping an eye on Raelynn and her friends, she read her e-mails. When she spied Eddy through the glass wall, she put the laptop down and joined him in the kitchen. He had a notebook and pen, which didn’t make sense until he started walking through the pantry and began scribbling. He was making a grocery list. He acted like he’d be around for months, not just weeks.
“Your cousin restocks the wine every time they’re down here,” she explained after she showed him the wine rack. “There’s also half a case of beer in the garage.”
“We’ll replenish both. What do you prefer? Wine or beer?”
Her drinking days were so over. “Water.”
“Oh.”
She noted the frown and chose not to explain. “Feel free to raid the fridge any time. Just make sure you tell me if we’re out of anything.”
“I’ll just put it on a list.”
“You do that
and
tell me too.”
“You don’t believe in making a list before you go grocery shopping?” he asked, opening the cookie jar.
“No. I keep it all in here.” She tapped her head. Considering she bought the same few items every week, making a list was useless. Gone were the days when she’d fill her cart with nonessentials.
She left Eddie with a smoothie and cookies in the kitchen and went back outside. Lunch came and went. While she and Raelynn took the kitchen counter, Eddie ate on the patio under the umbrella. Raelynn kept staring at him as though expecting him to pounce. He didn’t try to join them and when he brought his plate and glass inside, he didn’t bother them, he just disappeared into his room. Again, his sensitivity impressed her.
Once her daughter settled down for a nap, Amy moved to her writing corner in the living room. Sounds came from the master bedroom, but she tuned them out. Nap time and evenings after Raelynn went to bed were her moments to get some writing done. Hopefully, Eddie wouldn’t interrupt her. Unfortunately, the incident by the boat just refused to let her be.
She was a firm believer in instant attraction. She had her share of those during her college years and before Raelynn was born, but life had taught her to tread carefully with men. Watching Eddie charm her daughter had done something to her insides. But when their gazes had connected as he drained the drink then ran his tongue across his lips, a different kind of heat had rolled through her and suddenly, Amy had felt afraid. Afraid of repeating past mistakes, afraid of feelings that would lead to nowhere. She was supposed to be strong, mature, smarter, but something about Eddie Fitzgerald threw her off kilter. She didn’t like the feeling.
After wasting time analyzing her feelings, her muse finally took over. Lost in her fictitious world, Amy wrote for two hours straight before Eddie walked into the room with animal litheness. He’d changed into jeans and a plain white T-shirt, which hugged his masculine chest and showed off the corded length of his arms. In his hand was a thick book with a picture of a motorcycle.
This was her time, damn it, and she refused to be distracted.
But ignoring him was like walking into a panther’s den then pretending it’s a domesticated feline. Her focus disappeared. Her dialogue became corny. She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eyes and found him studying her.
“Do you know it’s rude to stare at people?”
“Do you know you talk to the screen when you work?”
Her face warmed. “That’s because I read the dialogue aloud. Do you need help with anything?”
“I called several stores in Sandpoint about the parts for the boat and none of them seem to have the right propeller, so I ordered it. It should be here in a couple of days.”
Amy nodded, though she didn’t see why this concerned her. “Okay.”
“That means I can go grocery shopping with you.”
Not what she wanted to hear. The less time they spent together the better.
“Unless you think that will be a problem. I do have to pay for the groceries.”
“Your groceries,” she corrected. “And no, it won’t be a problem.”
Now go away.
Amy faced the laptop, hoping he got the hint. Now, where was she before he interrupted her? Vanessa, her heroine was about to tie the hero to her bed for a night of decadence. Amy grinned, leaned forward and started typing. She liked her heroines bold and adventurous in and out of bed. Weaving all her fantasies and yearning in each story, she lived vicariously through them.
A persistent prickle in the back of her head kept distracting her and she knew the cause. Eddie hadn’t left. He’d settled on the couch, stretched his feet and propped his book on his chest, but instead of reading it, he was busy studying her from above it with an unnerving intensity. She sat back and eyed him with narrowed eyes.
“Yes?” she asked, striving for politeness.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Depends on how personal it is.”
“A yes or no would have sufficed,” he rebuked gently.
“Maybe I’m not a ‘yes or no’ girl.” She leaned against the chair. “Okay, shoot.”
“What do you do for a living?”
She cocked her eye brow, not liking his tone. “Why do you have to ask it like that?”
“Like what?”
“With suspicion.”
“Hardly.” He got to his feet. “It’s not important. I was just curious.”
“I write.”
“Excuse me?”
“I write books. I’m an author.”