Up In Flames (14 page)

Suddenly, she wished Shane were home with her. He'd know what to do. She looked behind her, down the path to the house. Where was the police car? She knew they were out there somewhere, but maybe they'd decided to drive around because she was out for the night.

Shit.

"Okay,” she muttered. “Man up, Baker. It's a prank. A neighbor's kid pulling your leg. Don't let him get the best of you."

Without wasting another second, she extracted the note as gingerly as possible, trying not to smear it with her own fingerprints. Despite her bravado, the words still made her dissolve.

"UR A NAUGHTY GIRL."

So much for chicken breasts.

She tossed it back into her letter box and reached into her purse for her cell phone.

Shitfuckdamn
. Her cell wasn't there.

That was when she remembered leaving it on the kitchen counter. Not knowing what to do, but not wanting to stay outside either, she extricated her key from her purse and unlocked the door. Once inside, she sagged as she stood in the dark doorway, listening for any tell-tale masher noises.

She didn't know what to do and felt like one of those horror-movie starlets who always looked in the dark basements, rather than running away like a sane person. But she just couldn't stay outside, surrounded by dark cornfields, knowing
he
might be watching her. It just felt safer indoors.

She quietly toed off her heels and picked up the baseball bat Shane had left in the foyer. Then she proceeded to flick on the main floor lights, all of them. It hit her that the house had never looked quite so lonely, not even when she'd first arrived back home. Without Shane standing there, it seemed scary and empty and hollow.

Just like the feeling in her chest. The angry burning sensation she'd felt seeing him on the catwalk had been replaced by a slow, insidious ache. She'd felt jealous before, but she'd never felt this. This pain was new, alien.

Coupled with her terror at receiving the second note, she was already around the bend. Hell, she was ready to give tours around the bend.

"Just a prank. Just a prank,” she repeated until she bought it, hook, line and sinker.

Moments later, she wandered barefoot into the kitchen, and saw her cell phone sitting there. She got as far as dialing the 9 of 9-1-1 before she heard the noise behind her.

Jules screamed and jumped. She turned, still brandishing the bat, and saw Kevin standing next to the tall pantry cupboard. “Kevin! Are you trying to kill me? What the hell are you doing here?"

He put up his hands. “I'm sorry, babe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to give you a nice surprise.” He paused, staring at her raised bat. “Holy cow. Am I going to have to pry you off the ceiling? Why don't we put the bat down, Juliet?"

She only clutched it harder. “Of all the mindless, thoughtless...” She took a few breaths and stared at him, starting to relax. He was still bare-chested under his fireman's coat, still in those turnout pants. “How did you even get in?"

He offered a sheepish smile. “I kept a key. Didn't think you'd mind."

"I mind. Hand it over."

He took two tentative steps and handed her the key. Only then, did she put the baseball bat down. It occurred to her then that she needed a sizable dose of refined sugar before she did anything else. Rummaging in one of the cabinets, she tossed aside healthy granola bars and dried fruit. “Come on. I know you're hiding in there. I'll find you, Toblerone bar, if it kills me."

"If you want something sweet, sugar, I'm here,” Kevin laughed.

She turned and glared at him.

He looked her up and down. “You look gorgeous tonight, Jules, but there's no need to be so agitated. I may have been playing it up for the crowd, but you know I'm all yours, baby.” He reached for her hand, and she promptly jerked it away.

"I'm not yours, and I haven't been a baby for some time.” She sighed. “Please just go away. It's late, and I don't need this right now.” Her chest heaved involuntarily and she felt a sob begin low down in the pit of her stomach.

She really just wanted Shane to come home.

"Hey,” Kevin said, looking concerned. “You really are sad. What happened, Jules?"

"What do you care?"

His face crumpled. “Jules, I know I'm a horrible, selfish bugger. But I do care."

She cursed softly as a tear escaped down her cheek. He tried to brush it away for her, but she moved his hand away. “Well, thanks, but too little, too late. Anyway, it's nothing. Really. I'm just being silly."

His face brightened. “Well, maybe I have just the thing to cheer you up.” He paused, and his grin grew wider. “I got a lot of really high bids at the auction tonight."

"Good for you. You must be very proud. Maybe the women would be willing to share you. It wouldn't be the first time."

"Uh-uh,” he said, ignoring the barb. “I go to the highest bidder. Those are the rules. So, guess who the highest bidder was."

She stared at him, exasperated. “I don't know, Kevin. Ivana Trump?"

"Nope. It was me."

"You bought yourself?"

"Yup. For you.” He rubbed his hands together in glee. “I bought out the highest bidder, so we could go on a proper date. Just you and me. Like the old days. What do you say?"

"I think you're insane. And out of pocket. I am not dating you.” She turned and started looking for her Toblerone again.

"Aw, Jules, come on. We can just go out as friends."

"We're not friends."

"Fine, call it what you want. But let's just try to have a nice time and catch up. I want to hear about your trip to Europe, about your plans for the B&B. Hey, maybe I can help out around here, too."

"Get out of my house, Kevin. Go away. Maybe if you hurry, you can find one of your high rollers and date her instead."

"Juliet, I'm only asking for one dinner. If you have a horrible time, you never have to look at me again."

She foraged deeper in the cabinet. “I'm already not looking at you."

"Why do you need to be so stubborn?” Kevin cried, exasperated. “You'd think I was offering you a night on the Titanic! It's one friendly dinner!"

"Good-night, Kevin,” she called from inside the cabinet.

She was suddenly conscious of steps on the creaky hall floor and whipped around. Only to see Shane standing there.

Thank God.

But he looked too eager for a fight for her to be fully relieved.

"McGuinness? What the hell are you doing here?"

She took Shane in. He'd thrown on a T-shirt, but still wore the turnout pants and boots as well. It was an enticing look, but the angry, possessive flame in his eyes was what made her heart thump almost audibly in her chest. That, and the way he put himself between her and Kevin, as if shielding her.

As if he somehow knew...

She had to tell him. She tugged on his arm, but his eyes never left Kevin's face. “Shane. Someone left me another note."

Her words got his attention. He turned to her and grabbed her arms, his eyes searching her face. “Are you okay? Have you called the police?"

Kevin scowled at his boss. “Police? What the fuck?"

Ignoring him, Shane spoke quietly to her. “Where is it?"

She led him to the letter box, and Kevin followed them, cursing the whole way. “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on here? Why would Jules need the police?"

Shane retrieved some gloves from a box he kept in the powder room. “Someone's been sending Jules threatening letters."

As Kevin continued to curse up a blue cloud, Shane inspected the note. Jules saw his face change when he read the note and absorbed its seedy contents. He looked at her and a horrible sense of understanding passed between them.

Someone had seen them that night on the couch.

"I think I want to be sick,” she whispered.

Shane put a hand on her cheek and looked her in the eye. “It's going to be okay, Jules.” He grabbed his own cell and dialed a number. “Inspector Fisher, please. Hank? It's Shane. You need to get out here now."

Kevin was pacing. “Is someone going to tell me about these letters?"

Shane ended his call and stared at him. “Maybe you should tell me what
you
know about the letters?"

Kevin paled, then gritted his teeth and pulled himself up to his full height. “Are you insinuating something?"

A lesser man would have cowered in front of Kevin. Physically, he was just as intimidating as Shane. Yet Shane stared him full in the eye, unafraid and unready to back down. “Quite a coincidence, you being here and all."

Jules felt her head snapping back between the two men, as if she were at some sort of bizarre tennis game. “Surely not. Kevin's a jerk, but even he wouldn't do this."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, babe,” he snarled.

"I'm not your babe,” she mumbled back, still miffed.

"Well,” Shane said, “let's discuss it with the police. And when they're done with you, I'll enjoy the dubious honor of escorting you from the premises. Again."

"You can't make me leave."

"Oh, I can make you leave, if I want to. But you won't want me to go down that road."

Kevin advanced a step. “Are you threatening me? Do I need to get HR involved here?"

Shane smiled. The sight of that cold, mirthless grin made a shiver go down Jules’ back. In an odd way, it was interesting to have them fighting over her, but she didn't know why he was bothering either, frankly. It wasn't as if he had any claim to her. He was still pining for his wife. What did Shane care if she associated with Kevin anyway?

Not that she would, she reminded herself hastily.

"You can involve HR all you want,” Shane replied calmly, taking a step towards Kevin. “But if I find out you've been upsetting Jules..."

"Like I would. You're the one upsetting her."

"Stop it!” Jules ran between them, threats all but forgotten. She pushed them away from each other, not caring that she must resemble a tiny ball of fury in her gown and bare feet. “Take your pissing contest outside! I'm sick of it. I'm sure both of you got lots of cozy, little offers from a dozen floozies tonight. Maybe they can be your damsels in distress. Go pester someone else, and leave me alone!"

She walked off in a huff, headed upstairs, ignoring the sirens blaring outside her house. She knew the police would want to talk to her, but they'd have to come to her. She was sick to death of it all. Sick of men, especially. Both the creepy letter-writing kind and the firefighting kind. She pounded each step on the staircase to emphasize her point.

To hell with all of them.

As the last cop shuffled out of the house an hour later, Shane just stared at Kevin. There was no way he was backing down. He would not allow McGuinness to stay there any longer. The thought of him even trying to comfort Jules up in her room was enough to make his blood boil. He leaned against the doorjamb, crossed his arms, and nodded towards the door.

Kevin held his ground for a moment, and then headed for the door. Shaking his head, he left the farmhouse.

Shane listened as he took off in his Mazda at a ridiculous speed. He smirked. If Kevin wanted to get himself killed, that was his business. It might actually help clear up some problems.

He stared grimly up the staircase. She'd gone back up to Claire's old room. Since the roof leak, she'd cleaned it and moved some of her things in. He could hear her stomping about now. And couldn't say he blamed her either.

What a night.

And he knew he'd been the one to first fuck it up by talking about Alana. Then he'd only made it worse by accusing Jules’ ex of stalking her. Instead of just being there for her, he'd gone on the warpath.

Now he was alone, and she was in bed. They should be together, in the same bed.

What was he thinking, telling her Alana had been on his mind? It had just spilled out of him, unbidden and uncalled for. Yes, he still felt badly about what happened to his wife, but he should have kept quiet. He knew Jules had a soft spot for him, just as he did for her.

Actually, he thought, staring at the sudden tent in his pants, it was more of a hard spot.

Christ, even with the newest threat, he still wanted her. He felt the need to pound the wall. That woman was killing him, with her flashing eyes and supple body! Maybe he just needed to sleep with her, and put himself out of his misery. It had been so long since he'd been with a woman. He hadn't even cared to for so long. But Jules set his heart to racing.

Never mind the fact the letters made him want to chain his body to hers.

He just didn't know if he could guarantee her a relationship. He was pretty sure he didn't have it in him. He'd promised himself. No relationships. No ties. No agony.

But, he thought, taking the first step on the staircase, maybe one night isn't so bad. Just one night of mindless sex. Maybe that's all Jules needed, too. The police were stationed just outside. They could lose themselves in each other's bodies and forget for a while.

Maybe, after that, they could both finally move on.

With that thought bolstering him, Shane bounded up the stairs.

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The door to Claire's old room opened. There was no knock, no preamble. Just Shane, in all his glory, standing there. Looking fierce. Invading her private space.

Jules huffed, in no mood for games. “You don't need to check on me. I'm fine. You can go to bed now."

His eyes narrowed, and he looked her up and down, as if that was exactly what he had in mind.

"Uh, Earth to Shane. I said I'm fine. You can go.” She turned to the bed and reached under the pillow for her silk pajama shirt.

The sight of the silk nightie must have done something to him. Particularly to his lower half. She couldn't miss his erection, couldn't miss how it throbbed against the heavy material of the turnout pants. She looked away.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Jules didn't even look up. “Don't be silly."

He reached her in two long strides, and turned her to face him. She stared up at him, shocked. He pulled her towards him, towards his arousal, and her eyes widened in realization. Her jaw dropped a little. “I said I'm not going anywhere, Jules. I'm staying right here. With you."