“That does it.” Jacob slammed his chair back. “You’re unreasonable and pigheaded.”
“And you’re obnoxious and arrogant,” she insulted back.
“My daughter is waiting in the car. I promised her.”
“Good heavens. She’s out in the car? She must be worrying about what’s going on in here.” Alysia flew out the door.
Startled, mother and son stared at each other. “She’s different,” Grace observed. “Refreshing.”
Jacob ignored the note of amused approval in her voice and glanced around the kitchen. Like the parlor, it seemed brighter than he remembered, except for a mess by the sink. He went closer and crouched, checking the corroded pipes, then picked up a how-to-fix-it book lying by the toolbox. “She wasn’t lying about the plumbing, it’s a wreck,” he muttered. “Looks like she was doing her own repairs. Trying to, at least.”
“She has a lot of energy and enthusiasm,” his mother said, with a hint of calculated innocence in her expression.
He looked up. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned.
“She might be good for Tracy. Nothing else has worked.”
Jacob rose moodily. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for his child, but it was hard to imagine that a whirlwind like Alysia McKenna could be anything but trouble. Even if she did have one of the most desirable mouths he’d ever seen in his thirty-six years—especially if she did. Damnation, he needed his head examined. He did not, repeat not, find her attractive. Unfortunately, his body was rebellious to reasoning. From the moment she’d answered the door, a heavy tension had been growing in the lower region of his anatomy.
“I’ve got to get out there,” Jacob muttered. “Who knows what that woman might say. I don’t want Tracy upset.” His fears appeared groundless, however, when he found Alysia: She was sitting in the car, conversing comfortably with his daughter. Tracy looked quite intrigued with her new companion.
“Poppa, Alythia says I can stay in the tower room, but she needs to fix it up first, so we haf to stay in a motel for a few days,” she said, her faint lisp mostly noticeable when she tried to pronounce Alysia’s name.
“Sweetheart, it would be better if we went home,” he suggested gently.
Tracy’s mouth curved downward, the enthusiasm fading from her eyes. “But I don’t wanna go back. Alythia said there’s a motel in Seaside where you can hear the waves and everything. She’s awful nice. She said we can visit anytime we want.”
“Did she?” Jacob winced. The last thing he wanted to do was “visit” Miss McKenna. Yet Alysia, and her outrageous nature, might succeed in helping his daughter where therapists and doctors had failed. And since he’d already arranged his work schedule to allow an extended leave of absence, it didn’t matter where they stayed.
“She says I can sleep in a real captain’s bed and have a ship’s lantern for my light.” Tracy glanced shyly at her new friend. “Alythia knows all about ships.”
Damnation. Jacob could already guess what the next few weeks would be like—an endless stream of “Alysia saids.”
“Can we stay, Poppa? Please?” Tracy asked hopefully.
Jacob was stuck tighter than a fly in a spiderweb. He knew it. His mother who had followed him outside knew it. And, worst of all, Alysia McKenna knew it. She smiled at him, a wicked gleam of amusement in her green eyes. He sighed.
“Sure, pumpkin, it’s fine. But I need to talk to Miss McKenna alone to, um, make the arrangements. Grandma will stay with you.”
“Yes, Poppa.”
Alysia lightly ruffled the child’s hair and winked. Her first sight of the youngster had twisted her heart. The little girl’s face was white and solemn, and her anxious expression was older than any seven-year-old child’s should be. Alysia had instantly decided she could tolerate the devil for Tracy’s sake.
Besides, it would drive Jacob Reynolds crazy.
Jacob followed Alysia back to the kitchen, questioning his sanity every step of the way.
“So?” she asked, perching on the edge of the sink.
He tried to stay calm. Alysia McKenna had an unnerving way of annoying him. She sat there, swinging her legs like a kid—only no one could ever mistake her for a child, not with that body. And that was the worst part, she had a body that could seriously warp a man’s judgment.
“Er, you won’t have to pay your rent while we’re staying here,” he said.
Her head shook emphatically. “You can’t trick me that way. I’ll go on paying the rent and getting my receipts. You won’t be able to evict me for defaulting on the lease.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” Jacob denied, his pride stinging. He might try- legal means to get her out, but he wouldn’t be underhanded. “I’ll go to Portland tomorrow and have Matt Braeden draw up a financial agreement. His specialty is corporate law, but he’s good on any contracts.”
“I’m going, too.”
“Why? That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to me.” She crossed her arms over her stomach, her generous mouth set mulishly. “I want to meet this Matt and explain the conditions myself.”
“God, you’re suspicious.”
“I wonder why?” Alysia asked, her tone sarcastic.
Jacob held up his hands in defeat. “All right. I’ll come by in the morning and we’ll go up together. Does that make you happy?” She muttered something he couldn’t understand, but he suspected it wasn’t nice. Sighing, he decided to pretend she’d agreed. “My next concern is the house. I’ll get a crew of men here as soon as possible. They’ll fix everything.”
“No.” Her chin raised when he started to protest. “I won’t have heavy-handed construction workers messing up this beautiful Victorian. It needs to be restored by an expert.”
“But I’m an architect. I think I’m capable of having the job done right.”
“I’m talking about a historical building. Restoration is completely different from architecture.”
Jacob rubbed his forehead wearily. “You said the plumbing and wiring is antiquated. That doesn’t sound safe. I don’t want my daughter in a place that isn’t safe.”
“You should have thought of that earlier. Didn’t it occur to you the house could be falling down, despite your wonderful caretaker? No one has lived here for over twenty years.”
A lot of things hadn’t occurred to Jacob, including the possibility of having a strange, tawny-haired young woman camped in his grandparents’ home. “Let’s argue about it later. Tell me, what makes you such an expert?” he asked.
“Oh, that.” She shrugged. “I have a bachelor’s degree in archaeology, and a master’s in history. I also did an internship with the Smithsonian,” she offered. “And I worked for a museum in Philadelphia for a few years.”
He could hardly believe it. Jacob could have sworn she wasn’t more than twenty years old. Master’s degree? Smithsonian internship? What was she doing on the Oregon coast running an antique store? She had to be nuts. “Will you at least agree to plumbers and electricians?”
“Only if I get to pick them. If you don’t mind, that is,” she said without a pause. “They aren’t expensive and they know what they’re doing.”
“They must be paragons if you recommend them,” he murmured. “Being such an expert yourself.”
Alysia