Risky Business (3 page)

“Why didn't you deck him, teach him some manners?” Brandon asked.

“It was a lot more fun to spit in his scotch.”

A few of the guys chuckled. Theo eyeballed his rum. Of their own volition, his lips curved into a smile he hadn't seen coming. “Guess I'd better not get on your bad side.”

She eyed him mischievously. “That would be a wise choice.”

She took another drink of Brandon's beer. “What are you going to do about Lanette?”

Theo swished a sip of rum in his mouth from one cheek to the other before swallowing. “Well, I have a lot of money in the bank. I could buy another boat.”

“But you love her.”

Yes, he did. Though the list of things Theo disliked was a long one, the things he did love, he loved fervently. The thirty-four-foot houseboat wasn't much more than a floating, rectangular mobile home, but Theo liked to think of Lanette as a luxury yacht's poor, country cousin—she might have a whole lot of wear-and-tear on her and long ago lost her shine, but she was a survivor who got the job done and sometimes even had fun doing it. Like Theo.

During the coldest and harshest of winter storms, he sometimes abandoned her in favor of camping out on the carpet of the empty bedroom in the converted house that served as Cloud Nine's office—not the room Lowell brought his mistresses to during his sporadic, unexpected visits to town, but the spare room across the hall—though he never slept well there. Besides, no self-respecting Québécois balked at the cold. They thrived in it.

Yet, he kicked off every spring by adding a fresh coat of white paint to the outside and scrubbing up the roof deck that ran the entire length of the cabin. And he resumed taking his nightcaps on the deck, breathing in the scent of the wild peppermint that lined the canal banks and picking out the sounds of the townsfolk, insects, and frogs, and, on a quiet night, sometimes even the subtle, peaceful flow of water. Every year by the time fall rolled around, he began to take the canal's sounds and smells for granted, but now, with the spring thaw, he'd grown hungry for them once again.

Thinking that he might be kicked out of Cloud Nine Landing any day, now that Whitley had been convicted, he'd never missed those sounds and smells more, and he'd never felt such a rush of sentimentality for the place he'd called home since his discharge from the Canadian Armed Forces thirteen years ago. He drank deeply from his rum, then closed his eyes and concentrated on the heat of the liquor sliding into his stomach.

When he was confident he could speak without a smidge of emotion tainting his voice, he cleared his throat. “There are other boats.”

“True, but there's not a whole lot of available real estate on the canal to dock up,” Brandon said.

Harper socked him on the arm. “We're supposed to be making him feel better.”

“Sorry. You could always move to the lake.”

Lake Ontario was beautiful, vast. But it wasn't home.

Harper pushed to standing. “Guess I'd better get back to work. Wave me over when you're ready for round two.” She was about to turn away when something out the window caught her eye. “Cloud Nine's back door is ajar. Don't forget to lock it before you head home.”

Odd. Theo remembered banging on that door and it'd been locked. In fact, he hadn't gone in the office once that week.

He was rising from his chair to get a better view out the window when Harper bent over the table, squinting into the fading light of day. “Wait a sec. Am I seeing things? I think a light turned on inside.”

Theo hustled around the table and narrowed his gaze to look through Locks' tinted window, past the commons to the gray sideboard and white-trimmed rental office. The back door was, indeed, open a few inches or more. A glowing light shone through the window. The other guys' chairs squeaked and scraped as they stood, gathering behind Theo. As they watched, a finger of smoke curled around the top of the landing door.

A shock wave rocketed through Theo. “Shit. That's fire, isn't it?”

The air filled with rushing white noise, the sound of his blood pumping as his adrenaline kicked up. Behind the noise came the muted sounds of boots thumping and sharp voices as the Bomb Squad players and tavern patrons sprang into action. Theo and Brandon were the first through Locks' door, sprinting across the commons. Harper jogged behind them, dialing emergency services on her cell phone.

The pungent stench of fire socked Theo hard. If Cloud Nine burned down, if he lost everything, if he. . . . What was he thinking? Cloud Nine wasn't his to lose. He'd already lost it.

Cursing under his breath, he pushed himself faster.

In a burst of noise and movement, a young woman flew out of the back door and onto the canal footpath, the hem of her long coat ablaze. Brandon and Theo banked left to intercept her, hollering over the sounds she was making in an effort to get her attention. She wasn't screaming, per se, but making a kind of guttural growl deep in her throat, as though she was panicked but determined to save herself. He expected her to stop, drop, and roll, but she kept running away from the building.

When Brandon and Theo's shouts finally caught her attention, she spun toward them. Theo's heart took a dive. She was clutching a bundle of arms and legs and blanket to her chest.

“Grab the baby,” he called to Brandon.

“Please,” she pleaded. “Take her!” She shoved the baby at Brandon, then fought to unlatch a long line of buttons so she could pull off her burning coat.

Theo nearly pushed her to the ground and commanded her to start rolling, but then he had a faster idea. It wasn't going to be any fun for either of them, but it was guaranteed to douse the flames licking up her back. Arms out, he lunged for her, sending them airborne, over the edge of the canal wall.

Once they were in the air, the woman did scream, a primal cry of extreme fear or pain that had Theo wondering if the flames had reached her skin. The impact of hitting the frigid water stung and knocked the breath from his lungs.

They plunged under. Though she flailed her arms, Theo kept a firm grip around her waist and kicked toward the surface of the water. The heavy layers they both wore slowed him down, as did the biting cold. But there was only one way out of the canal, toward warmth and dryness, and that was to keep swimming.

When they surfaced, the woman gasped and her arms shot up to Theo's shoulders. Her eyes were wild, her arms and legs pushing and grabbing, fighting him. She didn't seem able to process that Theo had a hold on her and she was safe.

“Calm down. That isn't helping.” His teeth were chattering, but he tried to infuse his words with authority, not that she seemed to hear him.

He was a strong swimmer, but the weight of her clothes and her panicked movements made it tough to keep their heads above water, much less start swimming for the nearest dock. She grabbed his shoulders again like she was trying to climb on top of him, pushing him under. He sucked in water and had to battle to pull his mouth above the surface again.

He spluttered, coughing up water as a coil of fear wrapped around his heart. He'd seen this kind of thing before, while in the Forces. Drowning people's instincts to fight for their survival made them dangerous to their rescuers, but watching it happen during a training exercise and being on the verge of adding to a real-world statistic were two entirely different beasts. He had to get her to go still. Just as he'd thought it, she kneed him hard in the stomach, sending him underwater again.

Theo's coil of fear turned to full blown panic. His pulse beat loud and fast in his ears. Holy shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were only ten feet from safety, but he couldn't get her to stop dragging him under so he could catch his breath and swim. Forget that she'd set his business on fire, if she didn't calm down, she was going to kill them both.

Time to get a grip. Adrenaline might've made her abnormally strong, but it made him stronger, too. He focused on his anger at her for setting fire to the landing, gathering conviction and power from it. His panic subsided until all he could think about was how pissed off he was at this stranger for further mucking up one of the worst days of his life and how determined he was to get them both out of the water before hypothermia set in.

He only had one idea how to get her to comply—what he'd seen done during that ill-fated training session—and he didn't like it any more than his plan to tackle her into the canal. But he couldn't think of any other alternatives. “I'm sorry,” he bellowed.

Then he wound his hand back and popped her in the nose with his open palm, hoping the pain would startle her into releasing him. It did.

Ignoring her shocked, horrified expression, he pushed away until he was out of range of her grabbing arms. The plan was to swim around behind her and take hold of her in a locked position that prevented her from pulling on or kicking him. The problem was, she'd started to sink.

“Come on, Lady. Tread water, damn it. You can do this.”

Either she was too far gone in her panic to function or she didn't know how to swim. Either way, Theo kicked his legs as hard as he could, pumping his arms, and was behind her as the top of her brown hair disappeared in the darkening water.

Locking one arm around her chest, under her arms, he hoisted her head above the surface. She gasped and spluttered, but didn't fight him as vigorously as before. After a few bracing breaths through jittery teeth, he growled with the burn and exertion of stretching his free arm out and kicking his freezing legs, then swam them toward the nearest dock by the sheer strength of his will.

When they reached the dock, his limbs were too weak and numb to push her onto it with the weight of her water-saturated clothes. Lanette was only a few feet farther and had a ladder she could pull herself up on. “Let's get to that ladder. Hang on to the dock while you move.”

He tried to coax her along, but she remained anchored in place, trembling and clinging to the wood.

“We're running out of time. We need to get out of here.”

“You threw me in the water,” she said between labored breaths. “You almost killed me.”

This, coming from the person who set his business and herself on fire. “Yeah, well, at least I'm not an arsonist.”

Her face crumpled with the beginning of a sob. “I hate water.”

“I kinda do, too, right now.” He muscled her along with his shoulder and body until they made it to the boat. “Almost done. Climb the ladder.”

“I can't let go.” Her white knuckles gripped the wooden edge of the dock and her face contorted with a silent sob. “Too much water.”

Theo's patience was failing along with his ability to feel his legs and arms. “If you hate water so much, then how about you do yourself a favor and get out of it?”

“I can't.”

What was up with this lady? It was hard to tell whether she had some kind of death wish or suffered from a certifiable insanity. Maybe she was just having an unlucky day, like him.

No, he couldn't let sympathy creep into his consciousness now. He cupped her cheek with his hand, forcing her focus on him. “Look at me.” He waited for her to steady her gaze on his eyes. “I'm getting out of the water, whether or not you decide to. This is your last chance for my help. Understood?”

He never would've left her in the water alone, but his cold-addled brain wasn't thinking all that creatively at the moment and threatening her with abandonment was the only idea he could come up with.

Mashing her quivering lips together, she nodded.

“Good.” He grabbed her hand and set it on the bottom rung of the ladder. “Go. Hurry.”

Shouts accompanied the thud of boots over the dock as three Bomb Squad players leapt over Lanette's side, took hold of the woman's arms, and hoisted her up, then Theo.

His body wouldn't stop shaking violently, but his mind was still sharp enough to know they both needed to get out of their wet clothes and warmed up immediately. As he strode to the woman, he stripped off his Henley shirt, then undershirt, barking orders to the men to go inside and grab the blankets and quilt off his bed.

“Get undressed,” he commanded her as he kicked his work boots off.

She was young and full-hipped, with long brown hair and big brown eyes. Their gazes met and held. She didn't look scared or dazed anymore, as she had in the water. She was fuming. Drenched to the bone and fuming. Her nostrils flared and her eyes glinted with sharp anger. “You threw me in the w-w-water. Then you h-hit me.”

He huffed, exasperated. There was no way he was going to apologize for that again. He'd never hit a woman before and never would again unless lives depended on it, but he wasn't going to stand there and take flack from a crazy, death-wish-flaunting arsonist. “I did what I had to do.”

“I was g-g-going to die.”

Rolling his eyes, Theo shoved his jeans to his ankles and stepped out of them. He wasn't any warmer standing in wet boxer briefs in the cold air, but he wanted to be ready for the blanket when they brought it back. “No, you weren't. I wouldn't have let you.”

He opened and closed his fingers, trying to get more blood moving through them so he could work on the buttons of her coat. He couldn't do it. Reaching into his discarded pants, he found his pocket knife. Gripping it tightly to keep the trembling to a minimum, he worked the knife under each button. They gave way handily to the sharp blade. The woman didn't help at all. She merely stood there, shaking, while he yanked off the coat.

A blanket fell over Theo's shoulders. He pulled it more securely around him, then peeled away his wet briefs and kicked them aside. Mona Flemmings, a local, stepped forward holding the quilt from his bed. She and Theo finished stripping the young brunette down to her pink bra and leopard print underwear. He grabbed the quilt, then wrapped it over her head and around her shoulders.

Only after she was bundled up did he lift the fabric to inspect her backside for a burn. Her skin was a ghostly shade of pale blue, but she bore no burn marks. Just a perfect, rounded ass clad in wet leopard print satin panties. He swallowed, fighting the unwanted relief that was threatening to blossom at the proof she hadn't sustained any serious, lasting injuries.

He was about to let the blanket flap down when she smacked him on the head. “What are you doing?”

He stood, utterly bewildered by her nerve. “Staring at your ass. Get over it. Also, making sure you can't escape to a hospital before I get some answers.”

She opened her mouth, probably to say something else offensive, but her words were cut off by a full body shiver.

“Another blanket,” he called. One appeared at his side. He flung it around her lower body so that it brushed the ground and covered her feet.

“Inside—now.”

She didn't move. He should've expected that, being that she was the most stubborn, infuriating person he'd ever had the misfortune of meeting. Maybe even worse than Lowell Whitley.

“Mona, help her to the couch.” Clucking like a mother hen, Mona drew the woman into an embrace and shuffled her into the cabin of the boat.

Before ducking through the low door after them, Theo braced himself for the worst, then looked at the landing's sales office. The sun had set and in the fading light he couldn't see any sign of a fire. A large crowd had gathered, not standing around gawking, but working to help. That was another thing he loved about Destiny Falls. Though a fire engine hadn't yet arrived, multiple small hoses were aimed at the building. Men and women were calling orders and getting the job done.

With any luck, water damage would be his biggest problem. Water damage and dealing with Whitley's insurance company and creditors. His gut twisted at the thought. He'd have to worry about that tomorrow—after he restored the young woman's warmth, then figured out who she was and why she'd broken into the landing and set it on fire.

Mona sat next to the young woman on the narrow, boathouse-size couch, hugging her, presumably to share her body heat.

“Wh-where's my baby?” she spluttered, pulling the quilt more tightly around her still shaking body.

Theo had read somewhere that the fastest way to raise body temperature was to get naked with another person, but the idea of going skin-to-skin with the woman who'd tried to burn his business down, even if she was a looker, wasn't going to fly with him.

In what he hoped was a safe enough compromise, he wedged in close to her on the couch, close enough that their legs and arms rested against each other's through the blankets.

“My friend Brandon has your baby. You can trust him. I'm sure he'll be here soon to give her back to you.” He was surprised by the strength of his words since his body was painfully tingling back to life.

She nodded, then wiggled toward Mona, pinning him with a fiery gaze. “I can't believe you did that to me. All of it. I hate water.”

No shit, she did. But that was beside the point. “You. Were. On. Fire.”

“He saved your life,” Mona added.

Theo froze. He held his breath. Mona had no idea the Pandora's box she'd opened, so he couldn't blame her for her indignity on his behalf, but if that little arsonist dared thank him for saving her, or even looked at him like she thought he was heroic in any way, he'd have to leave the boat.

Gratitude was something he refused to tolerate. Especially gratitude of the life-saving variety. He'd fielded enough of that garbage to last several lifetimes.

He cringed, awaiting her response.

The woman whipped her head in Mona's direction, her long, wet hair lashing Theo's face. “I was getting ready to stop and roll, like they teach you in school, when he shoved me overboard. And even if I'd gotten burned, it would've been better than drowning again.”

Okay. Wow. Theo wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Judging by Mona's expression, neither was she.

Outside, sirens wailed in approach. Brandon and Harper pushed through the crowd gathering near the cabin door. In Harper's arms was a crying, struggling baby. The woman's fierce features softened at the sight of her child. With a strangled sound of joy, she lifted her arms to receive her. The blanket slipped off her shoulders as she pulled the baby near.

Theo couldn't help taking notice of the shape of her shoulder and the way the tops of her ample breasts quivered above the wet satin bra with her every inhale and exhale. Then he saw Brandon noticing, too, and he figured that neither of them had any business noticing such things.

He tugged the blanket into place. She didn't seem to care, as busy as she was cooing at the baby, who looked older than an infant, now that Theo had time to really look at the girl. Maybe a year or a little less, if he had to guess, though he wasn't around kids enough to be able to gauge their ages with any accuracy.

He wasn't crazy about the idea of her getting arrested and separated from her child, but she should've thought of that before her mini crime spree.

“Why did you break in and start a fire at Cloud Nine?” he blurted, anxious to get on with the interrogation before the police arrived and took over.

“I didn't break in. I walked through the front door. How was I supposed to know the fireplace didn't work?”

The fireplace hadn't worked in years. Theo could've fixed it if he'd wanted to, but Whitley hadn't been willing to pony up the money for repairs, and Theo didn't give a damn whether or not the fireplace was functional. “You're avoiding my question. Why did you start a fire?”

“I was cold and I couldn't find a thermostat to start the central heating.”

The thermostat was in the back bathroom, one of the many indecipherable quirks of the hundred-year-old building. “So you let yourself into my business, decided, ‘What the hell, I'll make myself at home' and lit the gas for the fireplace?” It was too preposterous to believe.