Holding Off for a Hero Page 17

  “That’s why…?” He urged her gently on when she paused.

  “That’s why I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  “What makes you think she’s going to be hurt? And by whom?”

  “I’m afraid she’s going to get hurt by you, Professor MacKenzie.” Her brown-eyed gaze met his, full force. For all her delicate beauty, Mandy Cooper was not a woman to be trifled with.

  “We’re just friends.” A sudden constriction wrapped around his chest. “I don’t know why you’d have any reason to think—”

  “Because…” She looked down at her hands. “I’ve known men like you.”

  The tightness worsened. “You have?”

  “Yes.” She raised those penetrating brown eyes. She spoke with conviction. “I have. Men who put their work ahead of everything else, even that one all-important personal relationship that could change their lives. Professor MacKenzie, don’t let that happen to you. Emma is a wonderful woman. You’ll never again find her equal.”

  “Thank you.” He stood. He had to escape her innuendoes. “I promise I’ll consider what you’ve said. I also promise that I’ll do everything in my power to see to it that Emma Prescott doesn’t get hurt…at least not where I’m concerned.” He extended his hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Mandy. Oh, by the way.” He turned back. “Why didn’t Emma go to live with you when she left Loon Lake? Why would she choose to move in with Mildred Carter?”

  “Because of Bruiser’s feather allergy. I have a cockatoo.”

  “Ah, yes, the feather allergy.” The partridge incident flooded back.

  “Pretty severe. Do you have any suggestions, Associate Professor? I understand you’re a biologist.”

  “A biologist, yes. A vet, no. By the way, my name is Frasier.”

  “Okay, Frasier.” She got up and faced him squarely. “Just one more thing. Emma is an expert at reading body language. She has to be, in her line of work. What she’s reading in yours isn’t disinterest.”

  “So this is a heads-up about my blatant male interest in your friend and a warning to tone it down?”

  “Definitely, if you’re truly not interested. But if you aren’t, you’re a truly exceptional man, Frasier MacKenzie.”

  “I’ve been well informed I’m not the first man in her life.”

  “I don’t like what you seem to be implying.” Mandy’s dark eyes suddenly flashed. “Emma is a truly old-fashioned girl. One night stands and purely physical attractions aren’t for her. She’s got a lot of romantic notions about heroes and happily ever after. She just hasn’t found the man of her dreams…yet.”

  Her tone moderating, she gave him a sly wink. “I wonder if you’ll be the one who finally sweeps Miss Emma off her feet. Be warned, if you are. Your life will never be the same again. Good afternoon, Associate Professor.”

  A smug smile on her lips, she turned and sashayed out of the store.

  Ah, man! More confusion.

  Back in his SUV, he took the book he’d purchased from its bag and turned it over in his hands. What was he doing? And just exactly what had Mandy Cooper meant, that she’d known men like him? A sardonic grin quirked up the corner of his mouth. It couldn’t be. But maybe it was. Damn. He had to decide, and soon. He laid the book on the seat and turned the key in the ignition.

  While Frasier drove out toward Loon Lake, he pondered what Thomas Pentland had told him. What he’d learned from the principal bothered him. Was Emma involved with her students in some way that made her a risk to them? What wasn’t she telling him? And all that money. Could anyone be so trusting as to hand over two thousand dollars to a student with a shaky reputation? But, most of all, what had happened at Loon Lake over the weekend? Had drug pushers been involved?

  Drug pushers. The term sent a red haze of anger washing over him. One of them had murdered Larry as surely as if he’d stuck a knife in him. He flashed back to memories of the good days with the band, when every concert had been a wild adrenalin burst of energy and excitement. He remembered the roaring crowds, the late nights, sleeping on busses, never enough clean clothes, fast food that had eventually given him acid reflux.

  He grimaced as his recollections grew darker. Larry popping more and more pills, getting more and more moody, paranoid, unpredictable, forgetting lyrics, storming off stage in the middle of a concert, being forced to fill in. Larry yelling at him, taking a swing at him when he’d tried to get the bottle of tablets away from him. Larry lying dead across a hotel room bed in a puddle of vomit. Larry, who’d been his best friend.

  He banged his fist on the wheel and flinched. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Now a lady he was starting to feel a whole bunch of stuff for looked bad. He didn’t need this, not any of it. Maybe if he weighed her pros and cons he’d see the light, realize she wasn’t worth the anguish she was causing him.

  Okay, first the pros. The lady at Loon Lake was clever, resourceful, kind, generous, funny, and brave, sometimes to the point of ridiculous. He couldn’t remember spending a single dull moment with Emma. She was also a great cook and loved animals. Somehow the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous had fallen to the end of the list, now that he knew her.

  Now to the cons. He thought hard. Well, she did drive like a Nascar contestant, and she couldn’t swim or carry a tune. Then nothing. He couldn’t come up with any more cons, no matter how he racked his brain.

  Damn it, no wonder everyone loves Emma Prescott, from muscle-bound hulks like Brock Kelly to bookishly mild Brandon Worth to Nigel whoever-he-was, male stripper. Where do I fit in? Or do I? Or am I just slated to be Mr. October?

  He reached the point where he had to leave the highway for the secondary road to Loon Lake. Traffic was light to non-existent along the upcoming stretch of chip seal. Time to call for assistance. He pulled out his cell and punched in a number.

  “Scott?” he responded to the voice that answered. “Yeah, it’s me. How’s everything?”

  “Great. Fine. Haven’t heard from you in a while, little brother. What’s up? The old man finally loosen your reins?” His brother’s friendly voice instantly made him feel better.

  “No, nothing like that. You know what he’s like. Anyhow, I’m not calling you about him. I need some advice in the romance department.”

  “You? The rock star? You’re asking me, the mild-mannered cardiologist, for advice?”

  “Come on, Scott. You know that’s all in the past.”

  “Sorry. I forgot that era ended on a painful note. What can I do for you? Remembering, of course, I’m no expert.”

  “You have Jenny. You’re going to marry her. I’d say that qualifies you as at least a minor authority. And you are a heart specialist.”

  “When you put it like that, I guess maybe I am. It’s not every guy who could land a terrific woman like Jenny. Okay, let me have it. How can I help?”

  “There’s this lady who came to live in the second cabin at Loon Lake.”

  “Ah ha! Hit the hermit a blow in the sexual plexus and thickened the plot, did she?”

  “That’s pretty much the bare bones of the situation.”

  “And the old man wants you clear of personal involvement for the duration of the project?”

  “Right. But now it looks as if she may be involved.”

  “In the project? Damn. What’s your gut feeling?”

  “That she couldn’t possibly be.”

  “Then go with your instincts. You always were astute in that department.”

  “But I can’t get involved with her now…she shouldn’t even be at the lake.”

  “Well, then, you’ll have to get rid of her.”

  “Hey, I’ve tried! Believe me, I’ve tried. Even made a total fool of myself in the process.”

  “Okay. If you can’t get rid of her, you’ll just have to try to keep her safe…and interested…until the project wraps up.” There was no response. “Frasier, are you there?”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. But keeping her safe and interested, not to mention clearing h
er of any involvement, won’t be easy.”

  “It never is. I chased Jenny all the way to Australia, remember? But, let me tell you, little brother, it’s been well worth the effort. Now she’s shopping for a wedding dress, and Mom is visualizing a granddaughter. Living with four men hasn’t been easy for her, you know. I’m thinking whichever one of us gives her a little girl will go right to the top of her maternal charts.”

  “As usual, you’ll get there first.”

  “Sibling rivalry? Frasier, I’m disappointed.”

  “Sorry, Scott.”

  “Now about this lady…what’s her name, by the way?”

  “Emma. Emma Prescott.”

  “Emma. Nice, old-fashioned name. What are your intentions toward Miss Emma?”

  “That’s part of the problem…a big part. I don’t know. Sometimes she and her crazy little dog irritate me to the bone. At other times I’m attracted to her like iron filings to a magnet. When she’s not around, I find myself waiting for her to come back like there’s no tomorrow. When she does, it’s like Christmas morning when I was seven.”

  “Serious stuff.”

  “Could be. Maybe. I guess.”

  “Scared?” Scott laughed.

  “No…yes.”

  “Man, you’ve got it bad. Keep her in your sights. When the project ends, go for it.”

  “You think?”

  “I know.”

  “You would. Thanks, brother. I’ll be in touch.”

  Frasier punched End as he slowed to turn into the trail leading to the cabins. He was humming “Annie’s Song.”

  ****

  He was sitting on his top step with the dogs when Emma arrived home from school that afternoon. As the Pug and Scout rushed to greet her, he got up and forced himself to come down the steps at a more reserved pace even though, had he been as uninhibited as the dogs, he would have rushed to meet her.

  “Frasier, hi.” She got out of her vehicle, smiled at him, and the overcast day brightened. His brother had been right. He did have it bad.

  “Emma, I need to talk to you.” He stifled the return smile threatening to curl up his lips and spoke seriously. “What exactly happened while I was away?”

  “Nothing much. A ranger arrived to tell me I had to take the dogs and move to a motel because they’d discovered a rabid bear in the vicinity.”

  “What? Are you serious?” Frasier stared down at her. The professor was scraping the bottom of his barrel of tricks with this one.

  “Yeah.” She started up the steps to her cabin. “But no big deal. I only stayed away a couple of hours before I decided that was no real reason to deny myself a great weekend here at the lake.”

  “Then what happened?” He followed her inside.

  She kicked off her shoes, and shrugged. “Nothing much. No bear, peaceful couple of days. Guess he decided to stay away. Or got caught by a ranger.”

  “No one around when you came back?”

  “No, Frasier, I didn’t see man or beast all weekend.” She looked quizzically up at him. “You sound concerned. Is there some reason why you should be? Some reason I’m not aware of?”

  “No, no.” He backed toward the door. “Just puzzled, that’s all.”

  “Actually, me, too. I’ve never heard of an entire area being evacuated because of the very slim chance of a rabies threat. Warning residents, yes. Ordering them from their homes, no. Maybe I should call the Department of Natural Resources and check up on that ranger. I probably should have done it immediately, but I didn’t think of it until now. Where’s my phone?”

  She picked up her purse and began digging through its contents.

  “No!” Frasier’s response was quick and abrupt. In two long strides he’d crossed the room and was grabbing it from her.

  “Frasier, what’s the matter with you?” She stared at him, her eyes wide.

  “Nothing, nothing. It’s just that I know most of the rangers. I wouldn’t want to get any of them in trouble by calling to check on them.”

  “How can my inquiring about the validity of their visit possibly hurt them? Whoever he was, he was just doing his duty. Unless…” She stopped abruptly.

  “Unless?”

  “Unless he was bogus, unless he was trying to get me out of my cabin so he could rob both of us! Frasier, was anything taken from your cabin?” She caught at his arm and looked up at him.

  “No, nothing. You?”

  “Nothing except…” She stopped.

  “Except?”

  “Well, if you must know, my two CDs of The Sound are gone.”

  “Nothing else missing?”

  “Nothing. Crazy, right?”

  “Well, not so crazy.” He stared down at his sneakers and shuffled them. “I took them the last evening I was here. After Larry died, I destroyed all our CDs. Now I’m sorry. When I saw your copies, I had a sudden urge to play our songs again…when I was alone.”

  “No problem.” She put a gentle hand on his arm. “Keep them. I understand. And,” she continued, her tone lightening, “I’m relieved to know I didn’t have an intruder. I bought us a couple of juicy steaks. Why don’t you take the dogs for a run while I slip into something comfortable and start cooking?”

  “Would love to, but I have to take another drive into the bush. I missed a couple of days. The Professor won’t be happy if I let any more time elapse without a surveillance report. I’ll be back in time for dinner, never fear. Scout, stay with Emma and the Pug.”

  He turned and strode out into the darkening afternoon.

  Thank God Emma didn’t ask for the return of those CDs. He recognized the Professor’s work in their theft.

  ****

  His drive took longer than he had anticipated. He returned to the cabin clearing using the ATV’s headlights. As he pulled into the yard, he ground the machine to a halt and leaped to the ground.

  “Dear God!” he choked.

  Illuminated by her porch light, Emma stood on her front verandah, the Pug by her side, facing a snarling coyote the size of a German Shepherd dog. She brandished a barbecue lighter. From inside his cabin, Scout barked and howled but the coyote appeared undeterred.

  The situation baffled him. Coyotes were generally reticent animals that avoided human contact. Striding toward them, he saw the white froth rimming the animal’s snout. His gut knotted.

  Sliding his hand inside his jacket, he closed cold fingers around the thirty-eight in his shoulder holster and eased it out. Heart hammering, he leveled the gun at the animal’s head. When it crouched to spring he took a chance.

  “Hey!” he yelled.

  The coyote turned on him. With a gurgling snarl, it sprang. Frasier pulled the trigger. The animal died in mid-leap.

  “Frasier!” Emma started to run to him but he waved her away.

  “Take the Pug and get inside! This animal has rabies. I’ll need to bag the body and take it to the DNR office in town.”

  “Frasier…”

  “Emma, just do as I say, okay? We can argue later.”

  ****

  Three weary hours later Frasier drove up the rutted road to Loon Lake. Although the Department of Natural Resources people hadn’t been able to definitely declare the coyote carcass rabid, they agreed it was highly likely.

  What if he hadn’t arrived when he did? What if the animal had gotten to Emma? Right now she could be desperately ill, maybe dying. A sick, hollow feeling encompassed him. Scott had been right. He had it bad. Worse still, right now there was nothing he could do about it.

  He braked to a stop in front of his cabin. He’d disinfect, then join the most terrific woman he’d ever met.

  ****

  “Emma, it’s Frasier,” he called when he reached her verandah. “I’ve cleaned up. You can let me in.”

  “Frasier, are you okay? I was so worried!” She threw open the door and caught him by an arm to draw him inside. “Did that coyote really have rabies?”

  “Looks like it.” He shrugged out of his jacket, comfortab
le to make himself at home in her cabin. “They’ll run conclusive tests in the morning, but all signs point to it. I assume the Pug has had his rabies shots?”

  “Of course. Scout?”

  “Of course.”

  “Seems you’re always rescuing me, Frasier MacKenzie,” she said, softly, looking up at him with those resolve-melting emerald eyes.

  “You did a fair job of lifesaving yourself, when I got shot.” He let a slow grin curl his lips.

  “Maybe we make a good team,” she said her tone so warm and appealing Frasier repressed a groan. He wanted this woman like nothing he could remember.

  “I didn’t know you carried a gun,” she said, her voice suddenly snapping to normal. “Is it really necessary?” She took a step away from him.

  “Yes, it is. I’m on the trail of a large cat that can be dangerous. Now I’m starving. Any food left from that supper you promised, or did you feed it to our four-legged companions?”

  “Definitely lots of food. I’ll warm it up. Of course, the steaks won’t be what they once were, before I found that coyote about to take them off the barbecue, but the potatoes and salad should be decent. But about that gun… Wouldn’t a hunting rifle be more appropriate?”

  “I don’t want to kill the Panther. A revolver blast would be enough to scare it off.” He strode past her to stir up the embers in the fireplace. “Good Lord, woman, don’t you ever clean out your ashes? Remind me tomorrow, and I’ll do it.” He wanted to get her off the subject of the gun.

  “Regarding the gun, I’ll accept your explanation for now, but I’m not convinced.” She headed for the refrigerator. “Supper will be ready in a flash, my knight in the white SUV.”

  “Fine.” He cleared his throat as he shoved aside the ashes to make way for firewood, relieved to have disposed of the gun issue so easily.

  “But you know, Frasier MacKenzie, you’re an amazing shot for an ex-rock star, present-day associate professor of biology.”

  Was this woman part fox terrier? Once she got a scent of something that interested her, she just wouldn’t leave it alone.