A Deadly Love (3 page)

Brooke followed him up the stairs, holding tightly to the turned mahogany hand rail. Her ribs ached, and her head throbbed. When she reached her room, she dropped onto the puffy lavender comforter.

He set down the suitcases and turned. “You look like crap.”

She grimaced. “Thanks.”

He stepped forward and touched her cheek. “Does your head ache?”

His touch seared her skin, but it didn’t alleviate the pounding in her head. “God, yes.”

His hand dropped, and his lips curved in a smile. “Take some of the pain medication Carter gave you.”

“I will.” She studied his face, noting the fine lines at the corners of his eyes and the creases in his forehead. “You look tired, too. Go home, Dillon.”

“I’m on my way.” He squeezed her hand. “Take care of yourself.”

She listened to his footsteps as he descended the stairs. The front door closed. Mindful of her ribs, she let out a breath.

Time hadn’t affected the way her pulse raced when Dillon was near. The lanky boy with the quick grin she remembered from adolescence had turned into a gorgeous man who heated her blood with a single glance from his sexy, golden eyes. She shivered. Having the hots for Dillon Tremayne wasn’t part of her game plan.

June hurried in, carrying a steaming mug. “Here you go, dear. I made chamomile. It should help you sleep.”

She took the mug. “Thanks, Grandma.”

“It’s late, and I know you want to get cleaned up.” She stroked her hair. “I’ll be in to check on you after you’re settled.”

“Grandma, you don’t have to stay up. I’ll be fine.”

“I wouldn’t sleep for worrying.” Her smile shook. “I’m so happy you’re here, dear girl.”

She stood and kissed her grandmother’s soft cheek. Like the room, it smelled of lavender. “I am, too. I’m going to get out of these filthy clothes now and take a shower.”

After her grandmother left the room, Brooke washed down two pain pills with a swallow of tea and stripped off her clothes. She pulled her robe out of the larger of the suitcases and shrugged into it. In the bathroom, she turned the water on as hot as she could stand it and stood under the shower with her head bowed. The needle sharp spray felt heavenly. After several long minutes, she soaped her body and carefully washed her hair. Pink water swirled down the drain of the old claw footed tub.

She was lucky she hadn’t been seriously injured. She was lucky she hadn’t killed the woman in the road. Remembering her terrified expression, she felt a tug of recognition. Something about her dark eyes and pointed face pulled at her memory.

Shrugging, she jerked aside the flowered shower curtain, stepped out of the tub, and wrapped herself in a big, pink towel. Possibly the woman was a local, someone she’d passed on the street on a previous visit. It didn’t matter who she was because she hadn’t hit her.
Thank God I didn’t hit her.

Leaving her hair hanging damply down her back, she left the bathroom. An old Donald Duck nightlight lit the long wool runner on the hallway floor. Her grandmother’s welcoming touch. In her room, she eased an oversized T-shirt over her head and snapped off the bedroom light. Pulling back the comforter, she crawled into bed and sighed. The fresh sheets were cool and crisp against her skin.

She drifted in a haze, her pain numbed by the pills and the comfort of being in her grandmother’s house. Thoughts of Dillon stole through her mind. She pictured his concerned golden eyes staring into hers, and her lips curved. Warmth spread, easing the physical aches. Dulling the pain in her heart.

Chapter Two

“Do those papers make sense to you?” June asked. She hovered beside Brooke’s chair, frowning at the bank documents spread across the dining room table.

Brooke planted her elbows on the polished oak surface, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples. If the numbers on the bank statement didn’t give her a headache, her grandmother’s oversized, tie-dyed T-shirt would. “Your checking account is overdrawn. I thought you said money was automatically transferred from your investment account every month.”

“The deposits have been getting smaller and smaller.” June plucked at her long, cotton skirt. “I don’t know why. Eli always handled our finances. Before he died he told me he invested the money from the sale of the company, and I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Gramps sold his half of Big Timber Logging to Dillon a few months before he died, right?”

She nodded. “He didn’t want the burden of managing the company placed on me. Since Ardelle and Matthew weren’t interested in running Big Timber, it made sense to let Dillon buy him out.”

Brooke pictured her parents in their loafers and blazers, walking hand in hand across the U.C. Berkeley campus where they taught. “No, Mom and Dad wouldn’t know what to do with Big Timber.”

“And James is busy with his oceanography research in Monterey, and Neila is still in law school.”

She winced. Her siblings, at least, had legitimate excuses for their negligence. “I, on the other hand, was too selfishly absorbed in my relationship with Gavin to be of any use.”

June squeezed her shoulder. “Your grandpa never expected you to take up a career in logging.”

“Why not? I’ve tried everything else.”

“Someday soon you’ll discover your true passion.”

“Well it certainly isn’t accounting, but from the looks of these reports, Grandpa’s investments aren’t doing very well. They took a huge hit when the bottom fell out of the stock market, and they haven’t recovered the way they should have.”

“What does that mean?” June asked, her voice quavering.

“It means we should start by getting some advice on reinvesting your capital while you still have something to invest. Secondly, you need income to live on.”

Her blue eyes widened behind the silver frames of her reading glasses. “Am I going to have to work in the Thrift-Mart in Crescent City greeting people the way those other senior citizens do?”

Brooke choked on her coffee and lowered the cup to the table. “I don’t think you’ll have to resort to that. At least I hope not.”

Her grandmother sighed. “That’s a relief. I’m not overly fond of the Thrift-Mart store, though they do get a nice selection of potted flowers in the spring.”

She scooped the papers into a neat stack. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to mail these to Dad. He’ll know what to do about your investments. Then I’m going to transfer some money into your account to cover the checks you wrote last week. But first I’d like to discuss an idea of mine.”

Tears filled June’s eyes. “I knew I could count on you, honey. By all means, send those awful papers to Matthew, and tell me your idea.”

Brooke took a deep breath. “What do you think of turning your house into a bed and breakfast? I did a little research, and it looks like the chamber of commerce is really pushing to increase the local tourist trade. I called the owner of the Woodvale Inn before I left San Francisco. He said they’re always full during the summer, and the spring and fall seasons are picking up. I think we could make a success of it.”

June dropped into a chair. “My goodness, I don’t know if I have the energy for such an enterprise. The house needs a little work. Dillon has been nagging me about the front porch.”

“I’d be here to handle the repairs and get the permits we’ll need.”

“You mean you aren’t planning on going home?” Her eyes rounded with hope.

Brooke’s grip tightened on the bank statement. “What home? I moved out of Gavin’s apartment after we called off the wedding. I’ve been staying with Mom and Dad, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I quit my job at the bakery before I left town. Getting up at four in the morning was killing me.”

“I don’t know why you took that job in the first place.”

“I like to bake, and I wanted a complete change from the art gallery.” She pressed her lips together. “I’ll admit it was an impulsive decision.”

“A bed and breakfast would certainly be different, and you could bake all sorts of goodies for the guests. Do you really think we can do it?”

Brooke stood and gave her a hug. “I know we can. You’ll be the brains, and I’ll be the brawn.” She flexed her bicep, and was relieved to see a smile replace the worry in her grandmother’s eyes. “If we get cracking on the repairs, we’ll be ready to open for business by spring.”

“What an adventure! I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I am, too. I need to find my own niche far away from Gavin and our life in San Francisco. I want this venture to succeed for me, too, Grandma.”

“You know you’re always welcome here, darling girl.” June squared her narrow shoulders. “We’ll help each other.”

“Right now I’m going to help myself to another cup of coffee and then take a look around outside. The fog seems to have lifted.”

“It’ll burn off completely in another hour or so. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

Brooke hoped her grandmother was right. She could use a dose of sunshine. After she poured her coffee, she left the house by the kitchen door. Otis raced up to greet her, a goofy grin on his canine face. His feet were suspiciously muddy.

“You’re never going to break that habit, are you, boy? Where’s the hole this time?”

Otis ran off, and Brooke followed more slowly, sipping her coffee and peering up at the house. It definitely needed a paint job, and the roof looked like it was missing a few shingles. Otherwise, the place seemed to be in relatively good shape for a dwelling that had been built at the turn of the century, and not the current one. The lawn was overgrown, and a few of the paving stones leading to the garden at the rear of the house needed to be replaced, but the garden itself was well tended. Even under winter’s gloom, she saw evidence of her grandmother’s loving touch in the perennial beds. In spring, they would be a mass of blooms.

“How’re you feeling this morning?”

Brooke jumped, sloshing hot coffee onto her hand. She swore and turned, her gaze meeting Dillon’s. His golden eyes twinkled down at her as a slow grin spread across his freshly shaved face. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his low slung jeans and rocked back on his heels.

She swallowed as her blood heated at his slow perusal. “I can’t complain. My ribs are a little sore, but the headache is better.”

“Good. Sorry I startled you.”

She wiped her wet hand down the seat of her jeans. “Don’t worry about it.” A blur of movement caught her eye, and she turned. A young boy chased Otis across the yard, legs pumping, a wide grin on his face. “My goodness, is that Zack?”

Dillon glanced over as the two flew across the lawn. “The one and only. He’s fascinated by your dog.”

“I could swear he wasn’t more than a toddler the last time I saw him. I guess it’s been a few years.”

“Zack is six.” He studied his son, his eyes glowing with pride.

“If he’s six, why isn’t he in school today?”

“Teachers’ meetings or something like that. I took the day off work to stay home with him.”

The brown-haired dynamo took down her dog in a flying tackle. The two rolled in the grass, obviously thrilled with their game.

“Grandma talks about him all the time. She really enjoys the time they spend together.”

“I’m happy he has a surrogate grandmother in his life. Gail’s parents live in Seattle, so he doesn’t see them all that often.”

“I’m sorry about your wife, Dillon. I know I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. It must be a struggle raising Zack on your own.”

He bent to pick up a rock and sent it flying toward the huge redwoods that grew down nearly to the edge of the garden. “I’ve encountered a few challenges, but we’re managing.” He smiled and changed the subject. “You should check out the excavation project your dog started in my back yard.”

She closed her eyes and groaned. “How bad is it?”

“Let’s just say it’ll take a shovel to fill in the hole.”

“I’m sorry, Dillon.”

He patted her shoulder. “Lucky for you I’m in a good mood this morning.”

“I can’t break his digging habit, and God knows I’ve tried. My brother said I should have called him Digger.”

“How is James?”

She followed him through the break in the low hedge that separated her grandmother’s yard from his. “Busy. He just received another research grant, and his wife, Stacy, is expecting. I’ll be an aunt in a few months.”

“Good for them.”

“My parents are thrilled, especially since I won’t be making them grandparents anytime soon.”

He stopped next to a shed and touched her arm. “June told me you broke off your engagement. I’m sorry.”

Her stomach clenched just thinking about the fiasco that ended her relationship with Gavin. “I’ll survive. I suppose there are worse things than finding out the man you plan to marry is gay.”

He stared at her, and his lips twitched. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not kidding. Go ahead and laugh. I know you’re dying to.”

“It’s not that funny. I’m sorry, Brooke.” He draped his arm over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

She felt the embrace clear to her toes. “Yeah, I am, too. Gavin is a great guy. I’m just sorry he didn’t own up to his sexual preferences a little sooner.”

Dillon studied her from the top of her blonde hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail to the toes of her dirty running shoes. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes. You’d temp any man. Did the two of you—” He stopped and held up his hands. “Not my business. Forget I asked.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah, we did, but not very often. That should have been my first clue. Instead, I assumed he loved me more for my brains and charming personality than my looks.”

He opened the shed and took out a shovel. “No disrespect intended, but if you ever date a guy who can keep his hands to himself, you can be pretty certain he’s playing for the other team.”

She laughed. “You’re good for my self-esteem, and right now it could use a boost. Let’s go see how big Otis’s hole is this time.”

The hole was nearly three feet deep, but thankfully it was under a fir tree on the edge of the property and not in the middle of the lawn. Dillon made short work of filling it in. He stomped down the dirt and smiled at her over his shoulder. “Should I keep my shovel handy?”