Once Upon A Mattress. Kathleen O'Reilly

bedsheet behind her. He peered through the rain, scanning the painted numbers on the sidewalk.

      Her personnel file listed her address as just south of the river in Kessler Park, a small community full of young families that were remodeling the older homes. Finally he found what he was looking for, although when he looked carefully, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.

      The grass was knee-high and in sore need of weeding. Of the three concrete steps that led to the front door, two were cracked, and one was missing. The house was kind of cute, with an A-line roof and the dark red bricks so popular long ago. But still…

      Ben knew Miss Sinclair was a little messy, but this seemed extreme. He pulled up the collar of his overcoat and then made his way to the front door.

      He nearly laughed at the little horseshoe that was hanging over the door knocker. Jeez, this house needed more than a horseshoe, but he didn’t think Miss Sinclair would take kindly to having him laugh at her house. He put on his best poker face and rang the bell.

      “Hello?”

      “Miss Sinclair, it’s Ben MacAllister.”

      She cracked her door open and peered at him suspiciously. “Mr. MacAllister, what are you doing here?”

      “Could I come in?”

      For a moment he thought she would refuse, not that he could blame her, but then the door swung open. She was dressed in an old terry-cloth robe, and her nose looked red and irritated.

      Had she been crying? He started to touch her, and realized that’s what had gotten him in trouble in the first place.

      “Are you all right?”

      “Why are you here?” she asked, her voice raspy, and he realized she was sick. He felt the first stirrings of what he hoped was sympathy. It was a depraved man who felt desire for a woman who looked to be running 103° temperature. He cleared his throat. “I came to apologize.”

      Hilary didn’t say a word, but when she walked inside, he assumed it was an invitation to follow.

      And then stopped.

      It was a nightmare of Bob Villa proportions.

      A truss had sheared through the side wall and was embedded like a pickax. Rain was pouring into a small bucket that looked about to overflow. There was a ladder and tools set up, a home improvement book lay open on the top step of the ladder. Gently, he shut the front door, afraid to be the cause of any more new disasters.

      She looked up at him defiantly, waiting for a wiseass remark.

      “You’ve got a leak,” he said, trying for honesty.

      She sneezed. “Magnificent deduction. I can see why you’re in charge in security.”

      If she thought she’d get a rise out of him, she was mistaken. He wasn’t up to kicking puppies or insulting sickly women with leaking roofs. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, apologizing more for her roof than anything else.

      She waved a hand and then eased herself into a chair. “Forget about it. I would offer you a seat, but most of them are soaked.”

      “Is that why you’ve been sleeping in the research center?”

      Hilary winced but didn’t deny it. “Sorry. You won’t say anything, will you? I just need to get this fixed.”

      Ben shook his head and then took a good look around. Something definitely akin to sympathy tugged at him.

      Altruism wasn’t one of Ben’s finer qualities, but suddenly he realized he wanted to help. Here was someone who needed him. “Want a hand?” he asked, hoping she’d say yes.

      “Know a roofer?”

      He blew out a breath. “I could fix it for you.”

      “And what would you want in return?”

      She didn’t make altruism easy, but he wasn’t going to give up. “Is it just me, or do you not trust anyone?”

      She crossed her arms over her chest and stared up at him. “Just the ones who’ve had their hands on my breasts.”

      Automatically his fingers flexed in memory, but he held on tightly to thoughts of altruism. “Let’s not go there right now. It’s raining in your living room. I can fix it for you. No favors necessary.”

      Her green eyes looked a little bleary, but they still held suspicion. “Swear?”

      “Swear.”

      For a moment he thought she was going to say no, but finally she nodded agreement. “All right. How are you going to fix it?”

      “We’ll put up some plastic sheeting first, and that’ll dry things off some. After that, a couple of two-by-fours, and you’ll be in business temporarily. It’s nothing more than a patch, but it’ll hold for a while.”

      Hilary wiped her eyes with a tissue. “You’re all right.”

      “Got any chicken soup?”

      “Hungry?”

      “No, but you look like you could use some. I could go to the store if your cupboard is bare.” She looked like a woman with bare cupboards.

      “You trying to get on my good side?”

      “Do you have a good side, Miss Sinclair?”

      Hilary smiled, a little wobbly, but bright enough to stop the rain. “If you’re not careful, Mr. MacAllister, I’m going to change my opinion of you.”

      Quickly Ben climbed up the ladder, suddenly needing to study the hole in her ceiling.

      On a more rational day, it would have been easy to stay away from Hilary Sinclair. She was prickly and arrogant and obviously didn’t like him. But for the past few months, he’d felt decidedly irrational. Ben stole a quick look down, and caught her smile.

      Whoa. Definitely irrational.

      HILARY SAT CURLED UP on the corner chair, sipping hot tea and watching as Ben worked on her ceiling. The cold medicine she’d taken was starting to make her woozy, but she didn’t want to sleep, she just wanted to sit here and watch him in action. He didn’t say much, which surprised her. She had figured the Ben MacAllisters of the world didn’t understand the value of silence.

      She knew about those charming types who always had a joke or an insincere compliment. The guys that liked to regale the world with the tales of their exploits.

      Before today she would have bet her Visa bill that Ben was one of them.

      But she was wrong about him.

      Being wrong never sat well with Hilary, and eventually it bugged her so much that she turned on the stereo, just to fill the silence that was far too comforting. At six o’clock, the calm, melodious tones of Dr. Tracy filled the house.

      “Do you mind listening to her?” she asked, liking the way he moved as he worked. His shirt hung loose on his frame, and she could see the strong lines of his arms and back as he lifted the boards into place.

      Ben picked up a nail and began to hammer. “Dr. Tracy? She’s a little opinionated, don’t you think?”

      “Sometimes, but I don’t think it hurts to take a stand on things.”

      “No, I guess not,” he said, a smile playing around his mouth.

      He was humoring her. Hilary didn’t take humoring lightly. “I bet you think she’s too old-fashioned,” she shot back.

      “I didn’t say that.”

      “You didn’t have to.”

      “She’s my sister-in-law.”

      “No kidding? That’s so amazing.”

      Ben shrugged. “I’m surprised Allen didn’t tell you the first day you walked in the door.