Easing out from under the sink, he sat up and leaned his arms on his knees.
Beth stood looking at him, her expression more open than it had been a few moments ago. “No leak?”
“Not that I can see.” Something else was different about her, too. Then he realized she’d taken her hair out of the ponytail. It fell to her shoulders in soft waves and he noticed tinges of red mixed with the brown. “Whatever it was, you’ve obviously taken care of it.”
“Thanks.”
He stood. “Guess I’ll let you get back to your fire. I appreciate you allowing me to come in.” He walked over to the chair where he’d hung his parka.
“It seems a shame that you drove over here for no reason.”
He picked up his coat and turned toward her. “No worries. It’s okay.”
“I don’t know if you have somewhere you need to be, but…would you like to stay for a glass of wine?”
He had no idea what had prompted that invitation after her initial chilly response, but he wasn’t opposed to her idea. At all. “I have nowhere I have to be, and that sounds great. Thanks.”
“I hope you like red.”
“Absolutely.” And this would give him a chance to stay a little longer and try to unravel the mystery that was Beth Tierney. “But I should call Jillian and let her know the leak’s not a problem.”
“Sure. While you do that, I’ll pour you some wine.”
“That’s a deal.” He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and punched in Ken and Jillian’s number.
Jillian answered on the first ring. “Mac? Did you take care of the leak?”
“No, Beth did and it’s fine now.”
“Oh. I see. So I guess you didn’t need to go out in the snowstorm, after all. Sorry about that.” Jillian sounded a little subdued.
“Guess not. You have a capable renter here.”
“Right. So you’re heading home?”
“Not quite. Beth offered me a glass of wine, so I’m taking her up on it.”
“Oh! That’s great! I mean…how nice of her.”
The puzzle began to click into place. “Jillian, what’s up?”
“Nothing, nothing. I just think you two might have some things in common. She’s Irish, too, you know.”
Turning away from the living room, Mac lowered his voice. “Did you arrange this?”
“Not exactly. Well…sort of.”
“Honestly, I’m beginning to think you’re in league with my mother.” But Jillian was a customer, so he couldn’t be too hard on her. Still, it was an under-handed trick.
“Mac, it’s harmless. I just thought you two might get along. If you don’t, no harm done.”
He glanced toward the living room where Beth sat on the couch with her wineglass on one end table and his on the other. She’d put the plate of cheese and crackers on the couch’s middle cushion. A guy would have to be dead to turn down the chance to spend time in front of a fire with a beautiful woman on a snowy night, even if it was technically a fix-up.
He angled away again, once more shielding his conversation with Jillian. “I’ll say this,” he murmured. “You have good taste. Talk to you later.” He disconnected the call and tucked the phone in his pocket.
Now to solve the mystery…
CHAPTER TWO
INVITING THE HANDYMAN TO STAY for a glass of wine hadn’t been part of Beth’s game plan. But Mac McFarland was serious eye candy, a fact she hadn’t been able to ignore, especially after he took off his coat and started to inspect the pipe. Between the faded jeans that showcased his tight buns and a blue chambray shirt that required no padding to emphasize his broad shoulders, he was outfitted like a certified hunk.
His dark, wavy hair brushed the back of his collar in a most attractive way, and his eyes were the kind of startling blue that won guys modeling and movie contracts. On top of all that, he smelled good. From the moment he’d come through the door, she’d breathed in a heady combination of pine boughs and wood smoke.
Even though she was concentrating on the joys of singlehood this weekend, that didn’t mean she couldn’t invite a guy for a drink.
She wasn’t exactly dressed for company, though. It was too late to apply makeup, but at least she’d spritzed a little of her favorite spice body mist on after her bath.
Maybe she’d share a drink with Mac and then he’d go on about his business. But if not, and his arresting blue eyes continued to fascinate her, she might try out the new ground rules she’d devised for her sex life and see what his reaction might be. Assuming he was interested in her and didn’t have some sweetie in the wings, that was.
Once he’d joined her on the couch, she picked up her wineglass and searched for an icebreaker.
He took a sip of the wine. “Good stuff. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. So…did you decide in kindergarten that you wanted to be a handyman and that was the end of that?”
He laughed. “No, I wanted to be a superhero, but sadly my superpowers never developed, so I had to settle for household maintenance instead.”
She could imagine him in spandex and a rippling cape. He had the classic square-jawed superhero look about him. “I’ll bet your customers think you’re heroic. A good maintenance man is hard to find.” As she knew from her experience as a hotel manager.
“That, as a matter of fact, is true. Just about anyone can hang out a shingle. But I learned from an expert—my dad. I worked for him all through high school and college.” He reached for a cracker and put a piece of cheese on top of it.
“But now you don’t.”
“Nope. I developed an independent streak. But at least by working on this side of the mountain, I’m not in direct competition with him.” He popped the cheese and cracker into his mouth and began to chew.
“So he’s in Reno?”
He finished chewing and swallowed. “My folks live there.” He picked up his wineglass and gestured in her direction. “Your turn.”
“I manage the High Sierras Hotel.”
He nodded. “I can see you doing that.”
“You can?” She glanced down at her sweats. “I don’t look much like a hotel manager at the moment.”
“No, but you act like someone who makes plans and carries them out, which would make for a good manager.”
She gazed at him, intrigued. “How can you tell?”
“The fire, the wine, whatever you were writing when I got here. That looked like part of a plan to me.”
“It was.” She was impressed that he was so observant and wondered what he’d think of the manifesto she was creating.
But she didn’t know him well enough to talk about it, at least not yet. When she didn’t offer to tell him her purpose in coming here, he didn’t ask. She took that as a promising sign that he respected boundaries.
He swallowed another sip of his wine. “I’d think this would be a busy week for you at