Tool Belt Defender. Carla Cassidy

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Tool Belt Defender - Carla  Cassidy


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looked lovely in a pair of brown slacks and a yellow blouse that enhanced the darkness of her hair and eyes. She also looked nervous and that strangely put him at ease. She clutched her purse tightly to her chest and her smile was tentative.

      “No need to look so terrified. I promise I won’t bite,” he said.

      Her features relaxed and her smile grew more natural. “I know it’s crazy, but I am feeling a bit nervous,” she admitted.

      “It doesn’t sound crazy. I was feeling the same way just a minute ago.” He gestured her toward the living room. “Maybe a glass of wine will make us both relax.”

      “That sounds nice,” she agreed.

      He walked her through the living room and into the kitchen where the table was already set for two and a salad and a loaf of warmed French bread sat in the center.

      “Where’s Emily?” she asked as he gestured her into one of the chairs at the table.

      “I packed her off to Rose’s for the night.” He pulled a bottle of red wine from the refrigerator and smiled. “I love my daughter to distraction, but sometimes I get hungry for adult conversation. Besides, she and Rose have been working on some intricate 3-D puzzle at Rose’s house. Lately I’ve had trouble keeping Emily home.”

      He poured them each a glass of wine and then carried hers to the table. “And now the most important question of the night—how do you like your steak?”

      She set her purse on the floor next to her chair and took the wineglass from him. “Medium.”

      He placed the steaks in the oven and then joined her at the table, and for a moment an awkward silence descended, broken when they both started to say something at the same time.

      “Sorry,” she said with a small laugh. “I was just going to say that it was my sister-in-law who sold you this house.”

      “Layla? She’s a nice woman,” he replied.

      “She talks a lot,” Brittany replied with a small grin.

      Alex laughed and felt the ice breaking between them. “Yeah, even Emily said that Layla was a bit of a chatterbox, and if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black I don’t know what is.”

      Brittany laughed and then took a sip of the wine and eyed him soberly over the rim of the glass. “It must be hard, to be a man raising a little girl.”

      “It has its moments,” he agreed. “It took me months to learn to paint her fingernails to her approval and I still can’t get the hang of a French braid. Actually, I’m lucky that she’s a great kid and is very patient with me.”

      “I could help you out with the French-braid thing,” she replied.

      “Emily would be ecstatic.”

      She nodded and took another sip of the wine. “The deck seems to be coming along faster than I’d expected.”

      “There’s still a lot to do. Getting the floor down is the easy part. The railings and finish work take a bit longer.”

      “Have you used Buck and Gary before as helpers?”

      “Buck, yes, Gary, no. Buck helped me on a previous job and I told him I wouldn’t mind hiring another kid to help with the grunt work and he suggested Gary.”

      “I don’t know if you know this or not, but Buck has quite a reputation.”

      He smiled. “One thing I’ve learned since moving here is that the people of Black Rock like to gossip and nobody is shy about having opinions. I try not to listen to rumors and I like to judge people on their own merits.”

      “I’m sure you’ve heard more than a little gossip about me.”

      “A little,” he agreed.

      She gazed down into her wineglass and when she looked back at him her eyes were filled with a steely strength. “I was kidnapped by a crazy serial killer and held captive in an old shed for four months. During that time he kidnapped four more women and planned to torture and kill us each, one at a time. He called it a party. Thankfully we were all rescued before he could have his little party. I survived and it’s just something that happened to me. It’s in my past now.”

      A wealth of respect for her washed over him. “Must have been terrible.”

      “It was. But so are cancer and plane crashes and a thousand other things that happen in the world.”

      “What happened to the other women who were kidnapped?”

      She took a sip of her wine and then answered, “They’ve all left town, except Layla. Suzy Bakersfield moved away with her boyfriend. Casey Teasdale married her fiancé and they also left town, and Jennifer Hightower went to live with an aunt in New York. Layla was the last one to be kidnapped and I like to think that if my brothers hadn’t rescued us when they did she would have talked Larry Norwood to death before he managed to kill her.”

      Alex smiled and then jumped up from the table to check on the steaks. He flipped them over and then returned to his seat. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what you said to me the other night.”

      She frowned. “What was that?”

      “That you don’t go into town because people stare at you and whisper behind your back. I was thinking maybe if you went into town more often people would get used to seeing you around again and the stares and whispers would stop.”

      She cocked her head as if giving it some thought. “Maybe you’re right,” she finally agreed. “I think it wouldn’t have been so bad if the other women were still around, but I was the one who was held the longest and so people seem to be the most curious about what I went through.”

      “And you’d just rather put it behind you and not talk about it,” he said.

      She flashed him a beatific smile. “That’s right.”

      “I just want you to know one thing—if you need it, I can be a sympathetic ear or a comforting shoulder.”

      Her eyes flared with a sliver of evocative heat that he felt deep inside. “Thanks,” she replied. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      He wanted to kiss her. At that moment with her eyes shining so bright and her lips moist from the wine, he wanted to take her into his arms and lose himself in a kiss. Instead he jumped up from the table and went back to the oven where he pulled the steaks out.

      “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

      “No, thanks, I’m all set.” He plated the steaks and then carried them to the table.

      Thankfully the dinner conversation flowed easily. He regaled her with stories about his days as an attorney in Chicago, enjoying each time he managed to make her laugh.

      In turn, she told him about growing up with four older brothers who teased and spoiled her unmercifully. “When I told Tom I wanted to become a deputy he fought me tooth and nail,” she said. “There was no way he wanted his baby sister on the streets with a gun.”

      “So, how did you convince him to hire you?” Alex asked, half-mesmerized by the sheen of her dark hair beneath the artificial light overhead. He knew it would feel like silk between his fingers, imagined the long strands whispering against his bare chest as she straddled him.

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