Cold Feet. Brenda Novak

C ALEB LEANED CLOSER to the house to avoid being seen by the men in the Buick Skylark. Who were they? And what did they want? Judging by the late hour, the rattletrap condition of their car and the “drifter” appearance of the guy who’d gone inside Madison’s house, they weren’t insurance salesmen.

      He muttered the license plate number to himself a few more times, planning to have Detective Gibbons run a check on it in the morning, and started back to the cottage. When he’d heard the car pull up, he’d been in bed watching television, and hadn’t bothered to put on anything but a pair of jeans. It was chilly to be walking around without a shirt and shoes. But he hesitated when he passed Madison’s window and glanced in to find her sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was crying. Even if she wasn’t, there was something so weary, so hopeless about her posture….

      Was she okay? His natural reluctance to intrude on her privacy warred with the desire to capitalize on a golden opportunity. After all, he’d moved in to get close to her.

      Hurrying to the cottage house, he scribbled down the license plate number, put on a T-shirt and a pair of shoes and jogged back.

      It took several seconds for her to answer his knock. When she finally came to the door, her cheeks were dry, but her eyes were red and damp.

      Caleb studied her for a moment, wishing she were middle-aged and frumpy. That she was single and attractive only complicated matters. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

      There was an insincere smile on her face and, when she spoke, her voice carried the high pitch of false cheer. “No, of course not. Why?”

      He jerked his head toward the drive. “Those guys who were here. They didn’t look very reputable. I thought maybe I should check on you.”

      “Oh.” Her smile faltered. “That was just my brother Johnny.”

      Johnny Purcell. Caleb had come across that name years ago while he was researching Ellis. As a matter of fact, he’d interviewed Johnny once, in prison. But Johnny must have lost a lot of weight since then. Caleb hadn’t recognized him.

      “I know he doesn’t look like much,” she said. “But he’s basically harmless. Fortunately, he doesn’t come around very often. I’m sorry if he woke you.”

      “It’s no problem. I wasn’t sleeping. Is he in some sort of trouble?”

      “No.”

      An awkward silence ensued, during which Caleb racked his brain for some other way to learn more about Johnny’s visit.

      Madison spoke first. “Did you get settled?”

      “For the most part.” He grinned, hoping to charm her. “I loaded up on the important things—peanut butter and bread.”

      “Well, if there’s anything you need, a cup of sugar or an egg or whatever, feel free to ask.”

      “I appreciate that.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, wishing she’d invite him in for a cup of coffee. Other than moving onto the property, he hadn’t considered how he was going to get close to Madison. Especially when she seemed so remote.

      “Is Brianna asleep?” he asked.

      “She’s in bed. I don’t know that she’s asleep.”

      “I realize she feels I’m encroaching on her space, but with any luck she’ll get used to having me around, don’t you think?”

      “I hope so,” Madison said. “I know space shouldn’t be an issue. She’s got plenty of space. Especially at her father’s. He lives in an eight-thousand-square-foot house, complete with a giant water fountain worthy of a casino.”

      “Sounds…ostentatious.”

      “It is.” She finally gave him a genuine smile. “I hated living there. It felt like a mausoleum.” She folded her arms, unwittingly revealing a fair amount of cleavage.

      Caleb wished again that she was older, or significantly younger, or considerably overweight…

      “Brianna’s had a rough year,” she was saying. “I’m guessing this is some sort of delayed reaction.”

      He pulled his attention away from the smooth skin of her breasts. “How long have you been divorced?”

      “A little less than a year.”

      “It’ll get easier.”

      “You sound as though you speak from experience.”

      “I went through a divorce two years ago.” He didn’t mention the first divorce. There’d been no one in between so it didn’t count.

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Don’t be. Things are better now.”

      “They are for me, too,” she said, but he didn’t get the impression she really believed it.

      Caleb considered being direct and simply asking if he could join her for a cup of coffee. With Susan missing, he felt the clock ticking. But he didn’t dare come on too strong. If he frightened Madison or made her leery of him in any way, he’d only defeat his purpose.

      “Well, thanks for checking on me,” she said, and started backing up to close the door.

      Caleb had no choice but to step off the porch. “Have a good night.”

      “You, too.”

      Reluctantly, he walked down the stone path that led to his new home, frustrated that he hadn’t managed to wrangle any type of invitation out of her. Then he caught sight of her car. A nice car was important in the real estate business. He had no doubt that if she could afford it, she’d be driving a Mercedes instead of a Camry. “By the way,” he said before she could close the door.

      “Yes?”

      “I’d like to hire someone to do my laundry and make me a few meals. I was wondering if you’d be interested.”

      “You’re going to hire someone to cook and clean for you?”

      He was if he could get her to take the job. “I’ll be coming and going a lot.”

      “How much are you willing to pay?”

      Caleb had always taken care of himself. He had no idea what such services should rightfully cost. But he wasn’t afraid of being generous. He thought that helping her out financially might ease his conscience about having ulterior motives in befriending her. “Six hundred dollars a month sound fair?”

      She coughed. “That’s almost as much as you’re paying in rent.”

      Evidently he’d been a little too generous. “That would include the price of groceries, of course.”

      Her teeth sank into the soft flesh of her bottom lip, distracting him again. “What constitutes ‘a few meals’?”

      “Dinner every night, unless you have other plans, and breakfast on the weekends.” For a moment, he thought she’d refuse, and wished he’d asked her for less of a time commitment. She was trying to run a business and already seemed harried. But he needed to gain her confidence quickly. “I’m flexible, though. So if you think that’s too much…”

      “What kind of menu?” she asked.

      “You can choose.”

      “Do you want me to bring it over to you?”

      “If you’d prefer. But if you’re open to company, I’d rather not eat alone.”

      She hesitated for another moment. “All right,” she said at last. “I’m already cooking for Brianna and me. It won’t take long to add an extra plate for dinner and do a few more loads of laundry each week. I think it might help Brianna adjust to having you here if she gets to know you a little.”

      “My laundry