“Don’t you ever give up?” Julie snapped, self-consciously brushing off her bulky maroon sweater at the exact spot where he’d been staring.
“I didn’t come in here to talk,” Tyler retorted, a half truth. “I came to get another trash bag.”
“Oh.” She looked flustered, embarrassed. “I thought…well, it doesn’t matter.” Pushing up her sleeves, she crossed the room to the walk-in pantry, opened the door and disappeared from view.
Tyler sagged against the counter and struggled to get a grip on his emotions—not an easy thing to do. There was something about this woman—had been from the moment he’d met her—that kept him off balance. She was a magnet to his steel.
She drew his gaze. She annihilated his composure.
She turned him on.
Tyler couldn’t explain it and didn’t like it, but the fact remained: Julie Newman McCrae had power over him, power she didn’t even know she possessed…thank God. Just thinking about it made Tyler’s forehead bead with cold sweat because this time, this time, she was legal.
“Julie?” He sort of croaked the word.
At once, she stuck her head out from behind the pantry door and frowned at him. “What?”
“I lied. I did come in here to talk.”
She huffed her opinion of that and stepped from the pantry, new box of trash bags in hand. “For crying out loud, Tyler! Can’t we just forget about what happened? It’s old news. Very old news. And doesn’t even matter.”
“Then why are you still angry with me?”
“I’m not.” They stood toe-to-toe now, separated only by the width of the box she thrust at him.
“The hell you aren’t,” he retorted. “Your face is red. Your hands are trembling, and for two cents I’ll bet you’d throw that box at me.”
For a second Julie said nothing, then she heaved a lusty sigh. “To be honest, I’d do it for free, which means I am still upset. Unfortunately I can’t begin to tell you why, since I didn’t even know it until tonight.” She shook her head in disbelief. “What happened between us all those years ago is nothing compared to what I’ve been through since, yet for some reason I’m still irritated about it.”
“Then let me explain…please. And we’ll put it to rest once and for good.”
“Oh, all right,” she said after another hesitation. “Explain if you must, but I can’t promise I’ll like you any better. If I’ve held a grudge this long, I’ll probably take it to the grave.” She set the box on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, clearly waiting for him to speak.
At once Tyler’s wits took a leave of absence, taking along his tongue. He felt his face heat, a sure sign he, too, blushed.
“I…uh…well…uh…” Damn it. Tyler took a deep breath and tried again. “Do you think we could step out to the porch? Your brother will probably burst in here the moment I—”
As if on cue, Don pushed through the swing door. “What’s the holdup?” His gaze leapt from the box of bags to Tyler to Julie. “So are you two going to talk all night or get on with the show? It’s 3:00 a.m. I’ve had several beers too many, and I’d like to get a couple of hours shut-eye before I have to get up again…”
Wordlessly Julie extracted two bags from the box. She gave both men one and then turned her back on them, busy once more with the dishwasher.
Don glanced around the room. “Where are Kit and Dad?”
“Kit has to work tomorrow, er, today, so I sent her to bed an hour ago,” Julie told him without glancing up from her work. “As for Dad, since he’ll be up again at dawn with Timbo, I waived his KP duties altogether.”
“My brother’s three-year-old stepson,” Don said to Tyler by way of explanation. “He also has a step-daughter named Carly, and a baby of his own, Josh. ‘Gramps’ volunteered to baby-sit.” Don explained the situation as he led the way to the door, which he held open for Tyler. “You do remember that Dad manufactures gourmet pots and pans?”
“I remember.” Short of looking as if he didn’t want to help out, Tyler had no choice but to step back into the formal living room. Though a bit frustrated at first, he soon decided to make use of Don’s presence to fill in a few blanks. “Um…Julie’s a widow, right?” he asked as he continued clean up.
“Uh-huh. Her late husband, Cord, was an Alaskan Smoke Jumper—ever heard of them?”
“Sure I have,” Tyler murmured, shocked by a stab of what felt suspiciously like jealousy. Alaskan Smoke Jumpers were men’s men, noted for their courage and skill. Tyler couldn’t begin to compete with one of them.
Compete? With a dead man? At once ashamed of his misguided envy, not to mention his lack of sympathy for Julie, Tyler sharply corralled his emotions. “How long were they married?”
“Just under four years. Though Julie has never said anything, I’ve always suspected the marriage was not a happy one. They were a mismatch, in my opinion. She’s the kind of gal who wants the traditional stone cottage, complete with white picket fence and a yard full of kids. He preferred a log cabin in the woods, big enough for two, but not for three. He also had this thing about physical challenges—” Don chuckled “—something you can relate to, I guess. Why, it was nothing for him to skip Christmas with the family so he could climb a mountain somewhere.”
“And Julie moved home right after the funeral?”
“Well, back to Idaho, anyway. That was about a year ago, I guess. She’s been working for Dad half of that time and living here in the house since a few months after my mom passed away.”
“I heard about your mom. I’m sorry.”
Don nodded, and the men worked in silence for a moment.
“Does Kit work for your dad, too?”
“Kit’s a nurse,” Don said. “She was the wild child— the rebel who didn’t want any part of the family business.” He shook his head and grinned. “You’d be surprised how many people assume she’s the baby of the family.”
“Actually…I wouldn’t.” Tyler cleared his throat, a self-conscious sound to his own ear, though Don didn’t react to it. “Kit’s married?” At the party he’d noticed that she wore a wide gold band.
Don explained his sister’s circumstances, adding, “Her husband, Monty, has another five months on the carrier, then he’ll be out for good. I’m assuming they’ll find a place of their own, though not if Dad has any say in the matter. He invented the always-room-for-one-more concept, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I had,” Tyler admitted.
“You’re still with Sky Flight, I guess?” Don asked, referring to the commercial airline for which Tyler had piloted the last five years.
“No. I left them about this time last year.”
Don straightened, a look of surprise on his face. “I thought you loved your job there.”
Tyler hesitated, not for the first time at a loss for words to verbalize the restlessness that had prompted his leaving the best job he’d ever had. “I needed a change, a challenge.”
“So what are you doing now?”
“Nothing until spring. Then I’ll probably do what I did last year—charter work, some crop dusting.”