Except cement would have been more cooperative. There wasn’t an ounce of cooperation in this sodden woman. He had to pin her legs so she couldn’t kick him, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about the hands that pummeled his bare back.
Lucky barked his approval of this new and exciting game. Lightning momentarily blinded him as he hurried back up the drive with his burden. R.J. figured if they made it back inside without getting killed, it would be a miracle.
By the time he mounted the steps, he was breathing heavily. He opened the door, took four steps inside and dumped her on her feet. She scrambled away, stumbling in her haste. He ignored her to close and lock the door behind Lucky, who promptly began to shake the water free from his fur all over the hall.
“Lucky, no!” He made another grab for the animal’s collar. “Not in here! Come on, we’ll go to the mudroom…”
His voice tapered off as he found himself facing the business end of a small but lethal-looking gun.
“…or not.”
She’d backed against the far wall. Her wide eyes had lost only a little of that frenzied wildness he had glimpsed outside.
Frustrated and more than a little annoyed, R.J. stared at the weapon in her hand. Even if he and Lucky had scared her half to death, the idea that she’d pull a gun on him in his own house made him angry.
“Put that thing away,” he demanded.
She took a shuddery breath. “Not a chance.”
As though finally sensing the dangerous atmosphere between the humans, Lucky plopped to a sitting position at R.J.’s feet, gazing between them with soulful eyes. His whine seemed to ask what had gone wrong.
“Stay where you are,” she commanded.
With a quick shake of her own head, she tossed back long matted strands of hair, sending droplets of water flying much as Lucky had done.
The low-voiced contralto was husky and a bit shaky, but she was in control, which was a major relief. At least she wouldn’t pull the trigger by accident.
She was a bedraggled sight with her sodden hair plastered to her head and face. Her jacket and jeans were sopping wet, as well. She reminded him of a drowned puppy. One with teeth, he decided, eyeing the gun.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’ve got that right.”
She had guts he’d give her that much.
“Look, I’m sorry if I scared you, but we couldn’t stand around out there and you didn’t look as though you were going to listen to reason.”
“I said, don’t move!”
He halted the step he’d started to take in her direction. She was scared. Scared people with guns were apt to do stupid things. Like shoot someone.
“Fine. I’m not moving. What are you doing here?”
He knew he sounded angry, but staring down the barrel of a gun seemed to have that effect on him.
“Trying to leave,” she retorted.
“Great! Don’t let me stop you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You just did.”
“My mistake. Go.” He waved a hand toward the door.
She glared as more of the wildness faded from her gaze.
“My car’s stuck in the mud,” she admitted reluctantly.
That figured. “Where?”
She raised her chin defiantly. “Under some trees at the side of your driveway. I need help getting it out.”
He nodded at the gun. “You’ve got a strange way of asking for help, lady.”
“You grabbed me,” she pointed out. And she didn’t lower the gun.
“It was hardly a thrill. You were about to get us all killed out there. Or maybe you didn’t notice that lightning. It was practically coming down on top of us.”
“I was trying to move that branch.”
He stared at her, saw she was serious and shook his head. “You need a chainsaw.”
“So help me.”
“Not a chance, lady. I’m not suicidal. Take a look out there!”
A shiver ran through her. He decided she wasn’t going to shoot him and gave her his best glare.
“And put that thing away before you hurt someone.”
He took a step forward. Her hand tightened convulsively. Maybe she would shoot him after all. The fear was back in her eyes. He felt a twinge of guilt, but shook it aside.
“Look, I’ve had it with you. Either shoot me or don’t, but I’ve got things to do. One of those lightning strikes took out the power. Now if holding that gun makes you feel more secure, feel free, but I have to go out back to start the generator.”
R.J. suited action to words, moving with deliberate care as he started into the living room. She tensed. So did he, but the half-expected sound of a gunshot didn’t come. He continued through the dining room and out to the kitchen, releasing his breath.
Lucky padded ahead, hoping for a treat. After a second, R.J. sensed her following them.
“Watch where you step,” he cautioned gruffly without turning around. He paused to turn off the turbo fans as he went past so they wouldn’t blare to life once he started the generator.
“Are you lost?” he asked without looking at her.
“Not if you’re R.J. Monroe.”
Chapter Two
R.J. spun around. He hadn’t expected that. She took a hasty step back. Her hand was thrust inside her jacket pocket, holding the gun no doubt. She might be nervous but she faced him boldly.
“Who are you?”
“Stay where you are,” she commanded.
“Please,” he added with soft menace. She froze.
“What?”
“You aren’t real big on manners, are you? ‘Stay where you are, please.’ My foster parents were sticklers for good manners,” he explained. “They taught me a person gets a lot farther on a few please-and-thank-yous than all the bullying in the world.”
Scowling, her voice deepened. “Please.” R.J. stopped moving. “Do you always abuse a person’s hospitality this way?”
The sudden crack of thunder was so loud they both gave a start. For a second, R.J. was afraid she’d fired the gun. Lucky barked and shook himself again.
“Come here, dog.”
Ignoring her and the possibility she’d shoot him, R.J. strode past her without another word. Lucky trotted after him into the mudroom. Drying the dog off gave him a chance to collect his thoughts. She knew his name, but he was pretty sure he’d never seen her before, and he couldn’t imagine anyone being mad enough to send someone after him with a gun.
She came to the doorway, a silent shadow watching as he toweled Lucky and reached for the dog treats in the box up high on the shelf. The gun made him nervous. He had a feeling it wouldn’t take much for one to go off in inexperienced hands, and she didn’t look all that experienced to him.
Pulling a clean towel from the stack in the basket waiting to be carried upstairs, he set it on the dryer. “You can use this to dry off. I need to start the generator.”
Without waiting for her reaction, he grabbed the flashlight and a jacket from the hook and stepped back