Explosive Alliance (13 page)

"But of course they don't know that. Why wait a year to come after me?"

"If we knew, we'd have the answer to who did this."

"So we're back to square one and a messy office."
We.
Ooops. She'd been right to fear leaning on him, because it was beyond easy to think in
we
terms when Bo Rokowsky strutted into her life with all his quick answers and help.

Would he notice her
we
slip?

If he did, at least he stayed silent. He just kept those sexy baby blues pinned on her with slow blinking assessment that reminded her of the moment he'd pulled off her glasses to give her a kiss she couldn't afford to remember—but didn't stand a chance of forgetting. Her lips parted, her lungs suddenly hungry for more air to relieve the building pressure in her breasts tingling with the phantom sensation of pressing against the hard wall of his chest.

Footsteps sounded outside the office, halting footsteps that brought a welcome reminder she had bigger concerns than sexual frustration.

Seth poked his head around the door, leaning on his cane. "Hey, Paige, Kirstie woke up, nightmares from all this garbage going on. She needs you to tuck her in again."

Paige bolted to her feet. "Thanks, Seth." She shot a glance at Bo on her way out the door. "And thank you for your help."

The thought of her child's cries squeezed maternal instincts hard with the reminder of the main reason she couldn't afford to shout uncle for even one weak second. Turning her back on Bo and temptation, Paige sprinted down the hall and up the back stairs toward her daughter.

Paige's speeding footsteps echoed in the empty office. Bo shoved away from the boarded-up medicine cabinet, righting a chair on his way to the door out into the reception area.

Who would want drugs and why? In spite of any other theories, the obvious answer was teenage vandalism. Connecting it to Kurt Haugen as they'd discussed was a stretch, although a part of him wouldn't mind laying blame at that bastard's feet. His mind also niggled with possibilities closer to home.

He wanted to trust the people in Paige's life, but he'd learned long ago that sometimes folks hurt the ones they loved.

His eyes landed on the two Jansen men behind the reception counter, Vic shuffling loose papers back into files while Seth shoved them into the drawers. The two lumberjack-size guys wore the same face with way different personalities. Vic with his John Deere hat and stoic grief. Seth with his battered fishing cap, cargo shorts and don't-give-a-crap air.

What if the break-in was a cover up for someone closer to home? Seth was in a helluva lot of pain.

Could he have helped himself to some relief? Even if he'd been off with Kirstie, he could have tipped off a friend about when the place would be vacant.

His hands ached with memories of his own recovery. There had been more than one moment when he might have sold his soul for an extra shot of morphine to get through physical therapy.

Bo studied the man's eyes. The pupils were a hint larger, but it was nighttime.

He shifted his focus back to Vic. It was his practice, so why trash the place if he needed something? And the guy seemed earnest in wanting to help his sister, in which case he wouldn't have stressed her with something like this.

The veterinarian stopped to study one of the folders, cross-referencing with computer data. "I keep thinking about that guy who approached Kirstie at the air show."

Was Vic trying to throw him off the trail by mentioning the air-show guy to him—and to the cops earlier?

"Have you spoken to Kirstie about it?"

"Paige and I both talked to her even before this, but the kid's not coughing up any new info other than what you two saw—the back of a blond guy in some kind of repairman's uniform. The discussion seemed to scare her even more until she clammed up. We're walking a fine line here with a kid who's already on shaky ground, given what's happened over the past year." He slapped manila folders in a steady rhythm, the counter slowly reappearing from under the mess of the break-in.

"It's a reach connecting the guy." Although, the encounter still set off more than a few warning bells in his mind.

"That it is. But then, as much as I didn't like Kurt Haugen, I would have considered it a reach that he would ever sink so low." His hands slowed, his shoulder dropping. "Maybe I should have, so I could have saved my sister a load of heartache."

"He fooled people who saw him every day." Bo knelt to rake trash back into a wastebasket, not sure he wanted to follow this conversational path.

Seth snorted. "The guy was in debt up to his ass with his restaurant business. He was ripe for the picking when the mob approached him. Not that it justifies anything."

"Just trying to make sense of it all."

Seth swept off his ratty fishing hat and Frisbee-tossed it across the counter. "It sucks not knowing when the boom might smack or which direction it'll come from, a lot like falling through a barn loft at the Anderson place and busting this damn ankle of mine. Out of the blue. I wish I could be more help in holding my own and watching out for Paige and the munchkin."

Vic clapped him on the back. "Hang in there, man. Not much longer until you're in the air again."

And Bo would be out. His life would be back on track, and he would never see Paige or her kid again.

Just like he wanted it. "I can bunk here, too, starting tomorrow."

Hey? Where the hell had that come from?

Duh. From a deep well of testosterone and protective urges that he didn't see any chance of ditching.

Vic shoved aside the stack of restored files and gave Bo his undivided attention. "Another generous offer for my sister."

Seth smirked, jingling change in the bottomless pockets of his cargo shorts. "Purely altruistic, I'm sure."

Bo knew when to keep his trap shut.

Vic blinked slowly. "Thanks, but we have friends we can call."

"I'm sure you do," Bo acknowledged without backing down. A key to savvy aviation involved making fast, smart decisions in a crisis, and not flinching from a set path.

Seth nudged a couple of stacks under his propped foot for higher elevation. "No friends with his military training, though, and I'm not particularly ferocious looking hobbling around."

"Thanks for helping him, Judas." Vic snagged Seth's fishing hat and swatted his shoulder.

"My pleasure." Seth snatched his cap back and folded it into one of his pockets.

A lengthy sigh of defeat ruffled prescription slips in front of the pissed-off vet. "Makes sense for you to sleep here rather than commute all the way out here every day and back at night." He pinned him with a piercing glare. "But you'll be staying in your own damn room."

"Of course."

"Alone." Vic rocked back on two chair legs with a casualness totally negated by the vein throbbing just below the brim of his John Deere cap.

"Dude, I'm here to help your sister, not hurt her. And she is an adult. You'll just have to trust her to know what's good for her."

"Your answer's not reassuring me, Rokowsky." Vic's vein throbbed faster along his temple.

Nothing he could say would reassure any overprotective brother. So he didn't bother spelling out that while he found Paige hot as hell, he intended to keep his hands to himself. He settled on spelling out a piece of the truth. "I'm not here for you. I'm here for her."

"For how long?" Vic shot back with unerring aim at Bo's own doubts.

"Long day." Paige arched the kink out of her back as she strode toward Bo's rental sedan parked under the boughs of the lone sprawling oak. The swelling wind twisted the dangling swing in a lazy figure eight dance.

Security lights blazed to create a halogen halo around the house, clinic and kennels. At least the animals would bark if anyone approached, small reassurance after her home had been violated.

Those lights also showcased well Bo in jeans and his concert T-shirt, leather jacket hooked on his finger over one shoulder. His eyes flickered over her chest, lingered for two hammering heartbeats, then jerked back up to her face.

He shrugged into his flight jacket. "Is Kirstie okay?"

Paige straightened, fast. She would work out the kinks later, maybe in about two weeks when this guy hopped on his plane for a return to South Carolina. She might
wish,
but she couldn't afford the temptation of more mind-blowing kisses or warm strong hugs from this man who carried so many memories of her past. And her daughter needed stability.

But a selfish part of her insisted she deserved comfort, even the two-week variety, except another part of her balked at that kind of relationship. Maybe she should start dating again. She couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life alone and, oh my God, celibate.

It had been a year since Kurt's arrest, nearly a year since his murder. She was a woman as well as a mother. Somebody like Chuck Anderson would be perfect, uncomplicated and she didn't want him.

She wanted this man. And, sheesh, she sure did have a history of wanting unwisely.

Paige strolled closer, stopping by the lonely tree, a safe two feet away from Bo beside his sedan rental.

"She's asleep for now, just scared and trying not to show it. I can relate to that."

Memories of being held by him earlier in the office tormented her with the sweet gift of sharing her burdens. A person could get used to that, a person should have that, but she hadn't just made a simple mistake in judgment in her relationship with Kurt. She'd screwed up in mammoth proportions.

Bo's blue eyes darkened with concern even if he didn't move toward her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Sorta. Enough to get through the night if she kept a tight rein on herself. She clenched her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms, the slight pinch a slow but sure reminder of how falling for a Bo sort of guy would one day hurt like hell. "Thank you for the support earlier, but I'm almost certain I'll crumble if I get any more sympathy. Does that make sense?"

"Not really. But then we all cope in different ways, and I have to respect your boundaries."

"Thank you." Holy cow, this guy knew the right words to slip right past her defenses.

Kurt had encouraged her to count on him for everything, financial as well as emotional, insisting there would be plenty of time for her to spread her wings once Kirstie grew up. But this man talked about healthy boundaries. He even discussed and supported her dreams of returning to college.

The circle of light warmed into a close bubble of privacy against the dark countryside. She dug those fingernails harder into her palms.

Bo scratched the back of his head. "This may not be the best time to bring it up, but, well, the guys and I were talking and it really is a helluva drive back into Minot after a full work load of flying. So when I return in the morning, I'm going to start bunking here."

She forgot all about digging in her nails, surprise making her hands go slack. She didn't buy his excuse for a second. "You're staying out here because of the break-in."

"Doesn't hurt to have an extra guy around." His easy shrug shifted the leather jacket around his shoulders, a whispered slide of heavy, smooth fabric.

"And that's your only reason?" She braced her sagging spine against the tree, better than leaning on a man again. "I thought you said you were respecting my boundaries?"

"You think I'm moving here to get lucky? Lady, I'd have to be an idiot to try that with your watchdog brother on hand."

He had a point and now she felt foolish. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Make no mistake, I would still follow you inside in a heartbeat—if your brother was on Mars and the past evaporated for a day or two. But I heard you earlier about not letting this—" he gestured between them "—tug we feel go anywhere. I like to think I have enough self-control to keep my hands to myself."

A wicked smile tucked in his cheek. "No matter how enticing the woman."

Heat crawled up her neck even as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his blatant flattery.

His smile faded. "What happened with the break-in puts a new spin on things. This is about the business of keeping your practice afloat and a roof over your head. Most of all this is about keeping you and Kirstie safe. Even on testosterone overload, I recognize everything else has to take a back seat."

He sure did have a way of taking the sting out of saying he could live in the same house with her and not do a thing about it. "And you've already talked this over with my brother."

Bo nodded. "He's not happy about it, but sees the logic. He puts your safety first."

"Then it's settled." As much as she wanted to stand on her own two feet, only a moron would turn down the extra security of his presence. For her daughter. "I'm sorry for sounding ungrateful, but the thought of having you here makes me feel this tug between us all the more. Frankly, that scares me as much as vandals prowling the town."

"You sure don't pull punches, lady, or make it any easier for a guy. I like that about you. But no worries."

He held his hands in front of him. "I meant what I said about keeping these to myself."

"Fair enough." Her hands behind her, she splayed her fingers along the roughened bark, the tree's gnarled sturdiness offering a welcome support that demanded nothing in return. "Thank you for making me smile today. I needed that."

"No problem." He fished his keys out of his pocket. "I'm going to head out now. Mako's waiting to catch supper together."

How silly that she didn't want him to touch her but she didn't want him to leave. Soon enough he would be around 24/7, and wasn't that a scary and exciting thought all at once?

"Mako?" she called out, shoving away from the tree. "That's his nickname, right?"

Pausing, he propped his elbows over the open sedan door, bronzed wrists contrasting to white paint.

"His call sign. Yeah."

"What's your call sign?" She edged round the oak and slid down to sit on Kirstie's swing.

"Bo."

Her fingers wrapped around the hemp rope, her toe dragging the dusty ground while the rope creaked with each gentle sway. "But I thought your real name was Bo."