A Home by the Sea (2 page)

G
ETTING DRUNK AND FINDING
a pretty woman—that had been his plan.

But like a lot of things in Noah's life, his plan didn't work out the way he'd hoped. He'd gotten all the way to the bar when he realized his cell phone was locked in his car, parked on the street three blocks over. Noah never used his private cell phone at work. He carried his official pager at all times, but with the storm coming tonight he wanted his cell in good working order. If his family had problems, he needed to be able to contact them.

“Hey, Noah. Where are you going, buddy?” The door opened just as he was turning back, and light spilled over the thin layer of blowing snow. “First round is on the house. Second round is on me. So what are you waiting for?” Two more men from Noah's explosives unit appeared, peering out. Laughter and smoke and low jazz spilled into the wind.

“I forgot something, Donovan. I'll be back in ten. Make sure you keep my seat warm and my drink cold.”

The taller man nodded. “You got it.” But Joe
Donovan's eyes were troubled. He had worked with Noah since their select, top-level unit was put together, staffed by experts seconded from the FBI, the Secret Service and every branch of the military. Donovan was Noah's closest friend and he wasn't afraid to probe when the situation called for it. He moved down the stairs, speaking quietly. “That was one hell of a save today, buddy. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Noah said tightly.

“Glad to hear it. Next week we'll have to figure out what to do when the next one appears. Because there's always another one,” Donovan muttered.

“The bomb business is good these days. You know that, Joe.” Noah felt the cold trail over his face and thought about how close he'd come to dying that afternoon.

“But we're good too. Yeah, we're the best.” He clamped Noah on the shoulder. “And you're gonna make us even better. Now get the lead out. Didn't you hear there's the mother of all storms headed our way?”

“I heard. I won't be long.”

The door opened again. Someone shouted at Joe. He gave a wave and then vanished back inside. When Noah turned around, the street was covered by two inches of snow and more was coming down in big, fluffy flakes. Noah was glad his car had four-wheel drive.

He crossed two streets, thinking about what havoc
the storm might cause. As he turned the corner, a slim figure appeared in front of the townhouse where the party looked to be in full swing. Noah's hands tightened.

She was wearing a black wool coat now, fumbling in her pocket. No scarf. No hat. No boots. Delicate evening heels that were never meant to face snow or rain.

Noah saw her drop her gloves. She picked them up and then stopped, looking uncertainly down the street. Her face was toward the light and Noah could have sworn he saw something glinting on her cheeks. Tears?

His hands tightened again. Why was she crying? Had something happened at the party? Had that man—

Not your problem. You're supposed to be having a nice, rowdy night in a smoke-filled room, remember? Forget about her.

Noah forced his feet on through the snow toward his old, reliable Jeep. He located his cell phone and locked up the car. Suddenly impatient, he jogged back across the street.

He turned his head. Through dancing snowflakes he saw her pass a small art gallery, open for an evening event. Then she stopped, scanning the parked cars and the nearby alley.

Noah didn't see anything but a row of garbage cans and locked cars. What was she looking for? Had she dropped something?

He tracked her prints back to the townhouse, looking at the snow. Nothing on the ground. No scarf and no fallen purse. It didn't make sense.

A snow truck growled past, wipers flapping, its big tires throwing up snow in sheets. When it passed, she was gone.

 

G
RACE REFUSED TO FALL APART
.

All she needed was one or two minutes. Time to calm down, pull herself together and take control. She was a pro at taking charge of her life, after all.

She'd pulled herself together when her mother had stopped caring about her or anything beyond the inside of a bottle. A few months later her grandmother had come down with lupus. She had died within the year. Through it all, Grace's grandfather had done everything he could to shield her from the dark realities of her life, and Grace had gone along, putting up a brave front, always optimistic and enthusiastic.

Yes, she was famous for pulling herself together. People thought she was serene and unflappable. Grace worked hard to make them believe that be cause she wanted to be those things.

But now as snow dusted her face, she felt the knife twist and twist again, stabbing deep. She had lost the man she loved a year earlier. After the funeral she had managed to pull her life together, helped by friends and the complex research jobs she
loved. She was actually starting to feel whole and happy again.

Then she had found the letter.

Then she'd had a call from an old friend, just bursting to give her the helpful news that the man she'd loved and lost had a wife in Thailand. And there had been more gossip about other women, scattered over his far-flung travels as a UN negotiator. He had quite a record as a lover, it turned out. Yes, it had been a nice call, just a helpful update from a concerned friend.

Grace was still trying to recover from the news, and the pain was raw. Did you ever really know a person, she wondered? Or was everything just bits and pieces of a performance?

She brushed away a tear as snow crept down her collar and in the process dropped her gloves in the swirling snow. When she bent to pick them up, she heard a low, muffled sound from the row of cars across the street.

A cry?

She crossed the street, wishing she had brought her boots. Ignoring her frozen toes, she stopped to listen.

Another sound, plaintive and soft.

The noise seemed to be coming from a small alley just beyond a nearby art gallery. A cardboard box tumbled toward her, carried by the wind. When Grace grabbed it, she saw that it was empty.

The sound came again, only this time the muted
cry of pain and exhaustion tore at her heart. She plunged forward into the shadows, shivering as snow slid into her sling-back heels. Fumbling a little, she raised her small key-chain light and searched the alley.

A pair of eyes flashed against the darkness, bright in the sudden light. Grace saw a dark shape against a Dumpster near the alley's far wall. Bending down slowly, she saw a cat half covered with snow and newspapers. As the papers moved, Grace realized there were at least three kittens huddled next to their mother, all of them half-frozen in the snow. If someone didn't help them, they were going to die. She knew it without question.

Anger made her hands clench. Had someone dumped a pet here to avoid unwanted kittens? Had they hoped that the storm would solve their problem? In Oregon she had seen that kind of callousness too often. She knew the fear and pain of abandoned animals only too well.

But there was no time to be lost. The temperature was dropping and she needed something to hold the shivering animals. They wouldn't survive the storm that was already pounding the outskirts of D.C.

The big cat's eyes were dusted with snow and she seemed to struggle to move, nudging one of the kittens closer to the shelter of her body. When she saw Grace lean down, her eyes pricked forward. Then she purred softly.

Grace's heart lurched at the sound of trust and
hope. “I'll find a warm home for you, sweetie. I promise. Let's get you somewhere safe.” Grace scanned the Dumpster with her light, looking for a box. But most of the trash was gone; only newspapers remained in one corner. How was she going to bundle the strays back to her car, which was four blocks away?

Frustrated, she leaned down into the Dumpster and rooted through the papers inside.

“Hello?” Snow crunched behind her. “Are you okay, ma'am?”

Grace shot to her feet. A man stood at the mouth of the alley. He wore a black leather jacket and his dark hair was dotted with snow as he walked toward her.

She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how isolated she was here surrounded by shadows. “I'm fine.” She turned around and headed toward the back door of the restaurant at the other end of the alley.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” She didn't look back. She wasn't taking any chances on a stranger in a dark alley.

But the cat's low cry made her stop short. It was so cold, so lost. How could she leave them out here, even temporarily?

“Is that a cat I just heard? Out here in the snow?” The man bent down and lifted the piled newspapers, frowning at the wriggling shapes underneath. “Hell. She's got four kittens here. They're going to freeze if we don't get them inside.” The man stood up, frown
ing. “I'll go get my car. I've got towels and a blanket in the trunk. I just hope it's not too late.”

The concern in his voice was real. Grace knew she had to trust him. “If you can find a box, I'll cover them with my coat. Please hurry. The mother cat looks very weak.”

“Keep your coat. I'll use mine.” Carefully he shouldered off his leather jacket and added his thick wool sweater. Hand knit, Grace noted. Someone had taken great care in working those intricate cables and ribs.

She wondered if it was the work of a mother. A sister.

A wife?

Shivering, she watched him slip one leg over the Dumpster. “Do you have a box?” she asked.

“Just found one.” Leaning lower, he pulled his sweater over the pile of papers, not quite touching the cat. “That should help. Now I'm going for my car. It won't take me more than a few minutes. Will you be—”

“I'll be fine. But it's getting very cold and those kittens are so small. Just
hurry.
”

 

A
N ETERNITY SEEMED TO PASS
as she waited.

Grace heard the distant sound of sirens and passing cars. Her feet were nearly numb as she hovered over the cat, talking in a reassuring tone through teeth that chattered.

Finally, car lights flared red at the front of the
alley. Grace felt a wave of relief when the man appeared, carrying a big raincoat with a towel folded inside it.

“You okay, ma'am?”

“F-fine. Just a little c-cold. This mother cat is definitely used to people. She licked my hand. So brave.”

The man knelt beside her, studying her face. “You look frozen through. Why don't you go wait in the car while I round up these guys?”

Grace hesitated. He had calm, nice eyes, but she didn't know anything about him. Maybe this helpful behavior was just an act.

“Go on. It's the green Jeep. I'll drop you off on the way to the animal clinic. This snow is going to make driving slow.”

His calm, take-charge attitude made Grace feel less anxious. “I'd rather help you here. I can h-hold the light while you gather them up.” She held up her little key-chain light and watched approvingly. He was careful and patient as he cradled the small forms in his gloved hands and slid them under his coat. When the mother yowled, he scooped her up carefully and set her in the middle of the box, covering them all with the heavy towel, followed by his sweater and coat. “Mission accomplished. Let's get this brood moving. Meanwhile, maybe you can shine that light in front of me. I don't want to drop anyone.”

Grace walked slowly, guiding him around a
mound of soggy boxes and two overturned garbage cans. Her feet were nearly numb and her hands began to shake, but she was too relieved at the rescue to care.

“Here we are. Why don't you sit in front? I'll set the whole crew on your lap while I drive.”

Grace closed her eyes on a prayer of thanks. For one night at least these animals would be safe. “F-fine. I don't know who you are, but you couldn't have picked a better time to come and save us.”

The man gave a low chuckle. “See if you're still thankful after you see the inside of my Jeep, ma'am.”

“W
HAT'S A LITTLE MESS
between friends?” she said.

It was a mess all right. Noah cleared off an old sweatshirt from the seat so she could sit down. He had heard the faint disapproval in her tone. She wouldn't know that he'd been working for eight days straight, and this was his first real break.

He scooped a fast-food bag off the floor beneath her feet and dumped it in a holder behind him. “Sorry about this stuff.”

“No problem. Everybody has to eat, Mr.—”

“McLeod. Noah.” He set the kittens and their box in her lap, then slid the towel gently around them. “And some people eat better than others,” he said ruefully.

“You're good with your hands.”

Her voice was husky, raw with cold. Noah was certain that she was freezing. He also noted that she didn't seem to notice the chill, refusing to take care of herself until she knew the cats were safe. Once they were settled in her lap, he leaned down to crank up the heat around her feet. “Is that better?”

“Pure heaven.”

He pulled out onto the deserted streets, peering through the sheeting snow. “They weren't kidding. This storm is looking bad. We could be in for a wild ride.”

In the distance an ambulance whined, the sound swallowed by the gusting snow. The whole city seemed deserted, all activity stopped.

“Just as long as we're warm.” She smiled, staring down at the pile of kittens, curled together warm and snug on her lap. Noah wondered if she realized that her expensive shoes were history and her elegant wool coat was streaked with mud from the Dumpster. If so, it didn't seem to bother her.

“They look okay.” At least Noah hoped so.

“They're moving. That's a good sign. But we have to get them completely warm. Then we'll work on hydration,” she said firmly.

Noah didn't hide his surprise. “Are you a vet, ma'am?”

“No.” She smoothed one tiny, soft body, then pulled the towel back in place. “But my grandfather is. I've seen him handle abandoned animals about a thousand times, and that's what he would do. I'm Grace, by the way.”

“Glad to meet you, Grace. And if anyone did the saving tonight, it was you. I'm surprised you saw them near that Dumpster.”

“Just luck. I was…walking slowly. Thinking.”

Her mouth tightened. She blew out a little breath.

A story there, Noah thought. But it wasn't any of his business.

He drove with extra care, alert for sliding cars and patchy ice. The snow was getting deeper, and the streets were nearly deserted except for an occasional snow truck or ambulance.

He glanced over at Grace, who was holding the box protectively at her chest. Now they had the heat covered, but what were they supposed to do for fluids? Noah was fresh out of baby bottles or eyedroppers.

But he knew someone who wasn't.

He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. His older brother answered on the third ring, sounding breathless. “McLeod's. Reed here.”

“Hey, big bro. I've got an emergency on my hands. Can you meet me at Dad's shop in ten minutes? And bring baby blankets—or clean towels.”

There was a potent silence. Then Reed McLeod cleared his throat. “Baby blankets?”

“That's what I said, big bro.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“Probably not. I don't have time to explain anyway. There's zero visibility out here and this storm is just starting. Gotta go. And be sure to bring the big car, will you? I'm not taking chances with these drifts that are forming.”

“This is an emergency?”

“Yeah, it is.” Noah glanced down at the kittens and frowned.

“I was just sitting down to Myra's amazing dumplings, but I figure the story you're going to tell me will be worth it. You're usually good for a story.”

He hung up before Noah could give him an earful.

Noah was a careful driver, but he barely missed getting hit three times in the whiteout. A layer of ice had formed beneath the fresh snow, and by the time he reached the meeting point at his father's shop, he was ten minutes behind schedule.

He knew that Grace was worrying about the animals, though she didn't pester him with questions or complaints.

“How are your guys doing?”

“Two of them are moving around. I think they just started nursing, thank heavens. But the other two look very lethargic. The mother needs fluids. And I'm afraid that—” Her breath caught. “Wait. No way.”

“What?” Noah wanted to look over at the kittens, but he didn't dare take his eyes from the road given the icy conditions. “What happened?”

“You are not going to believe this. I mean
really
not going to believe it.” Grace's voice filled with a husky wave of tenderness.

The smoky sound did something odd to Noah's pulse. “Tell me, Grace.”

“I thought there were four kittens. But now I can see that this cat has three kittens and one puppy.”

“A puppy?” Noah swerved to avoid a Volvo, skidding sideways over a patch of black ice. “Damn.
Okay, now would you say that again? You can't mean—”

“I'm sure of it. The mother is treating them all the same, grooming them in turn, but I know a puppy when I see one. This looks like maybe a collie-retriever mix. He's licking my finger in search of food. At least I think it's a
he.
You're a big sweetie, aren't you, honey? So soft.” Her face was radiant when she looked up. She reached over and squeezed Noah's shoulder. “I couldn't have managed this without you. How can I possibly repay you?”

As her hand skimmed his arm, Noah felt a stab of heat. He knew a few ways, but they didn't bear thinking about.
Head out of the gutter, pal.

“Let's say you thank me by giving me at least one of these guys. Preferably two. I'd really like that puppy you're holding to be one of them. But you found them, so that's your call.”

“Oh, no. I hadn't thought that far ahead. I'm only here in D.C. temporarily, so they'll need homes. Best of all would be keeping them together, at least until the little ones are older.” Something crossed her face, and Noah saw worry darken her eyes. “I'll be traveling a lot for the next six months. I won't be able to take any of them with me. What am I going to do?”

“We'll work something out. They won't go back on the street.” He spared time for a quick glance and saw her biting her lip. “Are you going far?”

“Chicago. Oregon. Paris. Provence. Back to Paris. Then probably Romania.”

“Yep, I'd say that's far. What kind of work do you do, anyway?”

“Food research.”

“Come again?” Noah slowed for a light and frowned when he felt his Jeep slide. The ice was getting worse, but he didn't want to worry her. “Is that like food technology? Artificial fragrances and additives? Because I have to tell you, I hate people who tamper with what we eat. If God had meant us to eat Red Dye #4, hydrogenated fats and square tomatoes, he would have made them that way to begin with.”

Grace smiled faintly. “I'm with you. Basic is best. The kind of research I do is largely historical.”

“Historical food?” Now Noah was really confused. “How historical?”

“About a thousand years. Herbs and storage skills to prevent disease. Medieval food preparation. Royal feasting rituals from Europe and Asia.” She gave a wry smile. “Are you asleep yet?”

“Hell, no. That's fascinating stuff. My mom would pick your brains to learn about any of that.

She might even surprise you with what she knows.”

“Is she a nutritionist?”

“No. It's just a hobby of hers. Or family tradition—maybe you'd call it an obsession. She grew up in Ukraine and her family was dirt-poor, so she was hungry a lot as a child. She was homeless when she came to this country. Pretty grim times. She has
great respect for a good, nourishing meal and home cooking. She taught all of us to have that.”

“Your family? You cook together?”

Noah nodded. “Four brothers and one sister.” He swerved again, and this time his tires spun out on a patch of ice. He eased off the brake immediately, but noticed that Grace sucked in an anxious breath. Yet even then she didn't complain.

Strong stomach.

Noah liked that in a woman.

“You can ask my mother for all the details when you meet her.”

“Meet her? But I don't—”

Noah revved the motor, making the snow fly. The big wheels dug in hard, but they didn't move. As Noah gunned the motor again, a silver Hummer pulled out of a side street and nosed parallel to the now seriously snowbound Jeep. Grace watched the doors open and two very big men jump out.

She leaned forward, clutching her bundle of babies protectively. “Who are those men?”

“It's all right, Grace. You can relax.” Noah grinned at the older man, who was wearing a big Russian fur hat. “The cavalry has just arrived.”

 

T
HEY DIDN'T LOOK LIKE CAVALRY
.

They didn't look like anything Grace had seen before. The younger man was blond with striking cheekbones and a tan as if he worked outside. His face was unreadable as he pulled open Noah's door.
His wary expression deepened to alarm when he saw Grace hunching protectively over the neatly wrapped bundle on her lap. “Hospital, ASAP,” he snapped decisively. “Why didn't you go straight to the E.R., Noah? You passed one—”

Grace shifted in her seat. “No. I mean, it's not what you think—”

“No hospital needed. We're going home,” Noah said firmly. “The women can handle it.” He nodded at Grace.

“Are you crazy? If you have a baby—” Noah's brother leaned down and lifted a corner of the coat. A mewing sound filled the car. “Cats?” Reed McLeod straightened slowly, his mouth set in a wry grin. “You've got cats,” he repeated. Then he yanked Noah outside into a snowbank.

A big man, looking like a jolly commissar in his big hat and long coat, watched them mock-box, jumping and shoving each other through the drifts. He shook his head. “Just ignore them,” he said calmly, smiling at Grace. “They are hopeless, I am afraid. Always competing.”

“I noticed,” she said wryly. This had to be Noah's father. He looked like a Celtic poet, with eyes the color of a clear highland sky. Grace picked up the hint of an accent in the soft roll of his vowels. “And you must be their father.”

“I must own up to that, yes. We came to help with your…babies.” He gave a dry laugh. “But we
will take you and Noah home now. In a real car,” he added proudly.

Grace gathered the towel around her precious brood and rolled down the window a little more. “I could use some help. I've got a mother cat and four babies in this box and they're all moving. Do you think you could—”

She hadn't finished before the door opened and strong arms lifted her bundle carefully. “Wait for Noah to help you out. These drifts are already up to your knees.” The tall man turned. “Noah, stop fighting with your brother and make yourself useful. Otherwise I will teach you both how to fight for real.”

Ignoring his warning, Grace stepped out and hissed as her feet sank into an icy drift. “We're taking your car? The Hummer?”

“No car is better. It could drive us to Everest if necessary, but fortunately we do not have to go so far.” The tall man glared sternly at his sons. “You two paper-brains, come here now. Help this nice lady before she freezes.”

Looking sheepish, Noah jumped over a drift and scooped Grace up in his arms. “Sorry. There's just something about fresh snow.” He gave a crooked grin. “One flake and I have to rub my brother's face in it. It's a serious character flaw. But we'll have you warm and dry shortly.” He frowned as he felt Grace shiver. “Dad will have the heat cranked up to the max, count on it. He may be from Scotland, but he hates the cold.”

“I don't hate the cold,” Noah's father said crisply. “I just prefer to be warm and dry. Now, the lady will go in the front. You two go in back with the animals. And have a care that you don't crush any of them.”

Noah settled Grace in the Hummer's front seat. Then he took the wrapped bundle from his father. “All here and accounted for.” He clipped the seat belt around Grace. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Much better, thanks. How many inches are we supposed to get tonight?”

“Twenty-six, last I heard. A real bruiser of a storm.” Noah's father held out a hand. “I am Alex McLeod. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Grace Lindstrom. Thanks for rescuing us.”

“My pleasure. I'll have us home before my Tatiana's fried dumplings get cold. It is just over the bridge and a few minutes more.” He shot a measuring glance at his sons. “Mind the young ones. Turn that back heater up so they stay warm. Noah, stay in your Jeep and I will push you over to the curb where it is safe and then we will go home. Meanwhile, no more fighting, you two.”

Grace hid a smile at the murmured sounds of assent. Clearly Alex McLeod ran a tight ship, but the love between the men was equally clear.

“You've met Noah. My other son is Reed. Two years older, but not much wiser.” Alex nudged the Jeep carefully toward the curb, using the Hummer's big front fender. When that task was done, he gave a thumbs-up to his son.

Noah slid into the backseat beside his brother. “Nice job on the Hummer, Dad.”

“Repaired under schedule and under budget,” Reed said proudly. “Our contract was extended for two years. Anytime you want me to look at your fleet vehicles and give your boss a service estimate, I'd be glad to oblige.”

Noah shot a glance at Grace. “I'll pass that on. Money's a little tight right now.”

“Where do you work?” Grace's feet were finally starting to warm up. She tucked them under her and turned back to check on the kittens. Leaning over the seat, she folded down the edge of the towel and caught one wriggling form as it tried to escape beneath Noah's arm.