In the Enemy's Sights. Marta Perry

you’re hurt—”

      “Bumps and bruises. I’ve felt worse after a game of basketball with my brother.” He looked down at his dust-covered clothes. The knee of his jeans was ripped. “I can’t go home like this, though. My mother would have hysterics.”

      Surely he couldn’t sound that normal if he were really hurt. She managed a smile, relieved.

      “You can clean up in the office. Quinn keeps a stash of clothes there so he can change. He probably has something that will fit you.”

      He nodded, took a step, and winced again. When she put her arm around his waist, her shoulder under his, he didn’t reject the support. They made their way slowly toward the office, Angel circling them.

      She had to prop Ken against the door frame while she found the key, but once she had the door open, he moved through without help. She followed, switching on lights.

      “Do you want me to call Quinn?”

      He paused, frowning. “Not yet. Let me think about it while I get cleaned up. I don’t suppose there’s any coffee left in that pot.”

      “I’ll make some. Do you need any help?”

      Ken’s grin broke through, his teeth flashing white in his dust-caked face. “I can get into the shower myself. Thanks anyway, Juli.”

      The door closed before she could think of a smart retort.

      Maybe that was just as well. She busied herself with the coffeemaker, half listening to the drumming of water from the shower in the bathroom on the other side of Quinn’s office.

      He’d picked up on her grandfather’s nickname for her. Juli. She wasn’t sure she liked that. It seemed to bring Ken too far into her life, but she didn’t know what she could do about it.

      About the time the coffee’s aroma filled the room, the office door opened. Ken had changed into jeans and a T-shirt she recognized as Quinn’s. His hair was wet and tousled from the shower, and the intimacy of the moment made her heart give a little lurch.

      She turned away, pouring coffee into mugs. “You’d better figure out some way of hiding that lump on your forehead if you don’t want your mother asking embarrassing questions.” She carried the mug to him, black, the way he liked it.

      He touched the bump gingerly, then finger-combed his hair over it. “How’s that?”

      She would not stand there looking up into his face. She swung back to get her own mug, adding sugar.

      “You’ll get by if she doesn’t see you in a bright light, but it will probably be purple by morning. How are you going to explain that?”

      “I don’t know. Bumped it on a door?” He came across the room to take up his favorite perch on the edge of her desk. “I don’t make a habit of lying to my mother, but she’s been way too nervous about me since I got home. I don’t want to give her another reason to tell me I should sit in the house and let her wait on me.”

      She wouldn’t like that herself. “It’s natural, I’m afraid. My grandmother’s the same way.”

      He smiled. “Hence the arrival of your grandfather with lunch today.”

      “Yes.” She returned the smile.

      The office was perfectly quiet except for the ticking of the round clock that hung over her desk and the muted murmur of the coffeepot. Angel circled twice on the rug and lay down, nose on her paws, watching them.

      This was entirely too comfortable—sitting here alone with Ken, relieved that he was all right. “Did you decide about calling Quinn?”

      He frowned, as if he didn’t like being reminded about the night’s problems. “He’ll be coming to relieve me in an hour. I’ll talk to him about it then. It’s not as if we can do anything in the dark.”

      “The men will make short work of getting the lumber stacked again once they get here in the morning. But I think you should go on home. I’ll wait for Quinn to arrive, if you want.”

      She didn’t think he’d accept that. Sure enough, he was shaking his head before she got the words out.

      “No, thanks. I’ll hang around.” The furrows deepened between his brows. “I wasn’t worried about restacking the lumber, though.”

      She stared at him blankly. “What then?”

      He set the mug down on her desk and leaned toward her, face intent. “What made the lumber fall to begin with?”

      “Well, I—I don’t know.” How odd it was, that she hadn’t even thought about that. She’d been too focused on Ken’s safety.

      “Neither do I. But I’m going to find out.” When she didn’t respond, he shook his head impatiently. “Wake up, Juli. That lumber didn’t fall accidentally just when I was walking by.”

      She rubbed her forehead. “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m being so stupid. Those stacks are perfectly secure. One couldn’t collapse unless—”

      “Unless somebody made it happen,” he finished for her. His voice was grim.

      “More vandalism. But this isn’t like putting sugar in the gas tanks. You were hurt.” A shudder went through her.

      “If Angel hadn’t barked when she did, warning me, I would have had more than a few bruises to show for it.” His face was grim. “I’d have been buried under that pile of lumber.”

      Ken pulled into the driveway at his mother’s house a couple hours later and frowned at the sight of his brother’s car. So much for his hope of sneaking into the house without encountering his mother. All the lights blazed.

      What was going on? Usually Mom was ensconced in bed at this hour, half reading, half watching the news on television. He’d counted on just poking his face in long enough to say good-night and beating a quick retreat before she realized anything was wrong.

      Quinn wouldn’t have called, would he? Or Julianna? Surely not. Well, he better go in and face the music.

      It didn’t take more than an instant to realize that his accident was, for once, not his mother’s preoccupation. His brother, Michael, sat on the sofa, his arm around the shoulders of his girlfriend, Layla Dixou. Both wore a glow that was unmistakable, and if he hadn’t figured it out from Mike’s expression, he’d have guessed from the fact that his mother was smiling through tears.

      He grinned, holding out his hand to Mike. “Let me guess. I need to congratulate you.”

      Mike stood, his grin threatening to split his lean face. “You’d better. Layla has finally agreed to marry me.” He reached toward her, and the lovely lady vet stood, stepping into the circle of his arm.

      “How could I refuse?” She kissed his cheek lightly. “Strange as it seems, I love the guy.”

      A handshake didn’t seem enough. He grabbed his brother in a hug and wrapped his other arm around Layla. He bent to kiss her cheek.

      “Welcome. I always wanted another sister.”

      “Oh my goodness—Holly.” Mom wiped tears from her cheeks with both palms. “We have to call and tell her. She’ll be so excited.”

      “You mean she’ll be mad that I knew first.” Holly, as the elder twin by ten minutes, always wanted to know everything and do everything first.

      Mike punched him lightly on the arm. “That’s what it is to live at home again, buddy. You get to be first.”

      Mike meant it as a joke, of course, but it was yet another reminder that other people were getting on with their lives while he was stuck in limbo, waiting. Just waiting.

      “Right.” He managed a smile, but the stricken look in Mike’s eyes told him Mike had realized what he’d said. “Relax,