Blue Clouds (33 page)

“He tracked her clear across the country!” Seth shouted, as if the room's other occupants weren't a mere foot or two away. “If that's not stalking, what is?”

“A man's entitled to patch it up with his girlfriend,” the police detective said mildly. “All he did was ring the doorbell. He left peacefully enough after we arrived. It's not enough to warrant an arrest.”

“What if Pippa gets a restraining order?”

Meg smiled proudly at her husband's sound suggestion. George might be balding and slightly paunchy, but he displayed more calm intelligence than any other man in the room. She loved him for his practicality, not his volcanic emotions.

The kind Seth Wyatt displayed now.

“Restraining order!” he shouted, clenching his fists and glaring at the circle of men. “Have any of you ever heard of a maniac stopping his depredations because of a
restraining order
!”

“It gives us reason to arrest him if he should try to see Miss Cochran again,” the detective replied with a trace of irritation.

“And then what do you do? Throw his ass out of state? Pat him on the back and say, ‘No, no, bad boy'?”

The tall black man watching out the window shifted nervously and shot his employer a warning look. “The man's got a point, Wyatt. Listen to it.”

“Dammit, Doug...”

Meg raised her eyebrows in incredulity as the furious tornado halted his pacing and visibly curbed his temper at his chauffeur's warning. It was akin to watching a storm halting in mid-downpour. She threw Doug Brown a swift look, but he'd returned to watching out the window. Very strange dynamics.

Seth shoved his hand through his hair. “All right, I assume you questioned him?”

The detective shrugged. “He's a cop. He knows the ropes. He's sticking to his story that he simply wants to make up with his girlfriend. He doesn't know anything about any package from Kentucky. He's pretty convincing.”

“Most abusive men are,” a weary voice replied from the stairway.

Meg didn't like seeing Pippa pale and defeated. Pippa was a fighter, a street scrapper from way back. Billy had taken something out of her friend that Meg couldn't find a way to replace. She shot a look of hope in Seth's direction.

He looked grim and more frightening than his two-ton chauffeur. Meg couldn't discern anything soft or affectionate in those sharp-planed features. Seth looked as capable of snapping Pippa's head off as of protecting her. So much for that little fantasy.

Both George and the detective started to speak, but Seth ignored them. Eyes widening, Meg watched as all that intensity suddenly shifted to Pippa, and Seth drifted in Pippa's direction as if pulled by a magnet.

This couldn't be happening, she told herself. Men who looked as grim and stony as Seth did not drift toward women. They threw them down on the floor and banged them maybe. They punched men in the face for looking at them. But they did not drift. They did not lower their voices or visibly relax just because a woman walked into the room.

Seth did.

The threatening bunch of his shoulders and biceps eased. His fists unclenched. His tight expression warmed. Meg thought she'd faint if anyone looked at her the way Seth was looking at Pippa. Hunger wasn't even the beginning of it. She threw a hasty glance at George, but he was looking at his watch and not even noticing. Men!

“The car's outside,” Seth said softly. “Let's go home.”

Home. A definite husbandly word to use. Meg knitted her brow as Pippa nodded without arguing. Pippa always argued, and Seth Wyatt had just opened up a can full of arguments. This was Not Good.

“Miss Cochran, if you're feeling threatened, I recommend you take out a restraining order.”

“That and a cup of tea should do the trick, Detective,” Pippa replied mockingly, then immediately softened. “I'm sorry, I'll do that. It will at least give you the opportunity to do your job.”

The policeman nodded curtly. “Without any other evidence of a threat, that's all we can do.”

Pippa cut off Seth's growl simply by touching his arm. “I left no visible trail, Detective. Billy had to use his connections in the department or some other influence to trace me out here. You might want to check with some of my friends back home to see if they're all right.”

The detective nodded, snapped his ballpoint closed, and stuck it in his pocket. “I've got their names. I'll have to check with your police department first. It's not my jurisdiction.”

Pippa didn't smile. “The police back there are his friends, not mine. You won't get far in that direction.”

There wasn't much anyone could say to that, Meg noted. The policeman left. George pressed a worried kiss to his wife's cheek, shook Seth's hand, and hurried back to his store. Doug ambled out to start the car.

“I'll be fine, Meg,” Pippa said bracingly, hugging her. “I probably just overreacted.”

“She'll be fine, Meg,” Seth repeated with much more assurance. “I intend to see to it personally.”

Meg heard the threat and wondered how Pippa could not. Smiling for the first time since Billy's appearance, she stood up and held out her hand to Seth. “I'll hold you to that. And you may let it be known that I'll cut the heart out of any man who hurts her. Understood?”

Seth winced, but a grin flickered around the corners of his mouth. “Understood. I want you in my corner if it comes to a showdown.”

Ignoring this exchange, Pippa sailed for the door. “The two of you can share your caveman tactics some other time. I'm hungry.”

Seth did grin then, and Meg practically swooned at the sight. Damn, but insane men shouldn't have smiles with enough voltage to fuel a power plant.

Pippa didn't stand a chance.

***

“I want you inside the house, Doug. Get extra security for the perimeters, maybe staff that guardhouse.”

“For pity's sake, Seth!” Pippa cried, her neck aching from watching him prowling the carpet. “Billy's just a good ol' boy, not a demented criminal mastermind. We don't need Batman and Robin.”

“Shut up, Pippa,” Doug replied brusquely. “I been tryin' to get him to do this for years. There's warped people out there and no knowin' when one will turn up on the doorstep. Even Stephen King's been stalked.”

Pippa shut up. It irritated her knowing Seth wouldn't protect himself but he'd protect her. She didn't like the role of helpless female. But she didn't like the idea of anyone harming Seth either. Confused, she just sat tight-lipped and listened.

“The guard at the gate will report to you. Don't let anyone in you don't know, and don't let Pippa out unless you're with her.”

“That's it. That does it. That burns the cake. I'm out of here.” Pippa leapt from the couch and aimed for the door.

Seth stepped in front of her. She'd never considered herself particularly small, but when he propped his hands at his waist and flexed all those muscles, he dwarfed her. That wide expanse of black cotton-covered chest was definitely intimidating.

“Don't do this, Seth,” she warned.

“I have a damned book to finish, a sick kid on my hands, and a mother you brought out here just to make me crazy. I'll damned well not let anything happen to you until Miss MacGregor returns.”

Anger gave way to amusement at Seth's odd slant on the world. Pippa tilted her head back to look up at him. “You certainly know how to push all the right buttons, don't you? And here I thought you had problems with interpersonal communication.”

He tried to look grim. He tightened his formidable jaw and narrowed his eyes to slits. But she recognized the tilt at one corner of his chiseled lips. She crossed her eyes, wrinkled her nose, and stuck out her tongue at him.

He choked on a chuckle. She wiggled her tongue, and he lost restraint. The chuckle emerged as a whoop of laughter.

Unable to see Pippa's face, Doug shook his head. “You two are fit for an institution. I'm the one outta here.”

Pippa scarcely noticed his passing. Laughter transformed Seth's face. She could see the child in him, the happy boy, and the dangerously sexy man at the same time. Definitely dangerous. He should have been snatched up and put out of circulation years ago. Only isolation and his defensive attitude had saved him from the clutches of some woman before this.

His laughter turned into a sloppy grin as he watched her. “Careful, Pippa, I haven't taught you all the kicks yet. I want you fully prepared to take me out when I make my next move on you.”

“A simple ‘no' won't suffice?” she asked dryly.

His grin became positively wicked. “Probably not. Remember, I know how to push all your buttons. You just said it yourself.”

“That's all right. Just remember I can push yours back.”

The grin slipped away from Seth's face as soon as the door closed behind Pippa. In her presence, he could almost feel as if everything were normal, better than normal, but left alone...

The mention of Miss MacGregor had him reaching for the phone to call Dirk. He'd forgotten that Mac knew the workings of his household. He still couldn't believe anyone was trying to harm him. The candy was almost certainly Pippa's imagination, but the bomb was not. Unless he wanted to believe Doug or his mother or Durwood was responsible, he'd have to believe Pippa's ex had sent the bomb. But he'd forgotten Mac. If anyone had the capability to make a bomb, Mac did.

Or if anyone wanted the information on how to get a bomb to his desk, Mac had it.

“I'm afraid Darius handles our financial affairs.” Natalie shifted her muscular legs nervously as she addressed the question directed at her by Lisa Morgan. “Although, I'm certain if you have created a charitable trust for the gym project that he will be happy to contribute.”

Lisa appeared triumphant. “And I know Taylor's bank will donate funds for such a good cause. Meg, you are positively brilliant. What we need to do now is start a fund-raising committee.”

Pippa groaned mentally and turned her concentration elsewhere. Meg was undoubtedly brilliant in gathering this assortment of unrelated people together and wringing money out of them for the children's gym and pool. But fund-raising and committees were not Pippa's pet projects. She'd much rather be back at Seth's, waiting to see how he'd changed those last chapters he'd torn to shreds a few days ago. Or sitting with Chad playing Monster House. Or any of a dozen other things besides listening to these women chew on one another's pocketbooks.

Her gaze drifted to one of the few men in the room. Ronald Dawson, she remembered, the school board president. He looked as supremely bored as she was. He glanced at his watch again, and she calculated he'd make his excuses and be out of there in a few minutes. But she remembered Seth's comments to him at the school board meeting. Here was a man who had grown up with Seth. She'd really like some answers from him.

Picking up the coffeepot, she wandered over to refill his cup, despite his protests.

“Nonsense, Mr. Dawson. Caffeine is essential to survive these meetings.” She settled on the sofa cushion beside his and sipped from a cup she'd poured for herself. “Of course, it also helps if you can watch the action as an audience watches two prima donnas on stage. Will the school board approve the swimming pool if funds are raised?”

She set her voice low so as not to disturb the ongoing discussion about committee chairs.

“The liability insurance will be tremendous,” Dawson replied gloomily. “With our declining enrollment, I can't see how we can justify it.”

“That could be why Seth wouldn't sponsor the project,” Pippa commiserated. “It is a shame that his interest in the town occurs just as the population is declining.”

With hidden glee, she watched the board president struggle to hold his tongue. She hadn't been nominated Best Busybody in high school for nothing. Another prod, and she'd have him spilling the beans. “I never have understood his reluctance to talk about Garden Grove. It's such an idyllic setting. I don't see how he could bear it any ill will.”

Dawson let out a lungful of air and eyed Pippa warily. “You won't quit until you hear it, will you?”

She beamed in delight. “Probably not. If you're in a hurry to go home, you may as well spill it now.”

He ran his hand over his balding head, cleaned his wire-rimmed glasses, and returned them to his nose, all the better to stare her down, she surmised. She didn't relent.

“No one comes out looking pretty from where I stand,” he said gloomily. “You'd be better off just leaving it alone.”

“Maybe. But from where I stand, it looks like everyone is still hurting. I'm a nurse. I like healing wounds.”

He nodded, reluctantly accepting that assessment. “It's all childish nonsense, actually. It happened long ago and there's no reason at all for it to carry on, but people here have long memories, and apparently, so does Wyatt.”

“A man who's been knocked down once too often tends to be wary of returning to the ring.”