Hidden Riches

and armed with a hand-held hair dryer. “You can just—oh.” She stopped, spotting Jed. “Good morning.”
    “I need to talk to you for a minute.”
    “All right.” She combed her fingers through her damp hair. “You met my brother?”
    Brother, Jed thought, annoyed with himself for the quick, unquashable sense of relief. “No.”
    “The guy in the sheet is Will. Will, the guy who needs a shave is Jed, from across the hall.”
    “The ex-cop who chased off the burglar.” Will’s sleep-glazed eyes cleared. “Nice to meet you. I played a drug dealer once, in a Sly Stallone film? Got killed in the first reel, but it was a great experience.”
    “I bet.”
    “Here.” Dora passed Will the hair dryer. “You can use the shower. I’ll make the coffee, but you have to make breakfast.”
    “Deal.” He headed off, trailing flowered sheets.
    “My mother thought I needed a man in the house after the break-in,” Dora explained. “Will was the only one available. We can talk in the kitchen.”
    It was the same efficient galley setup as his own, but was obviously more well used, and certainly more organized. She chose what Jed now recognized as a biscuit tin and scooped coffee beans out and into a grinder before she spoke again.
    “So how was your Christmas?”
    “Fine. I’ve got a guy coming by around noon to hook up a new security system. One that works.”
    Dora paused. The scent of ground coffee and her shower filled the room and made Jed’s juices swim. “Excuse me?”
    “He’s a friend of mine. He knows what he’s doing.”
    “A friend,” she repeated, going back to her grinding.
    “First, I must say I’m amazed you have any. Second, I suppose you expect me to be grateful for your incredible gall.”
    “I live here, too. I don’t like being shot at.”
    “You might have discussed it with me.”
    “You weren’t around.” He waited while she put a kettle on to boil. “You need a couple of real locks on the doors. I can pick them up at the hardware.”
    With her lips pursed in thought, Dora measured coffee into a filtered cone. “I’m debating whether to be amused, annoyed or impressed.”
    “I’ll bill you for the locks.”
    That decided her. Her lips curved up, then the smile turned into a quick, throaty laugh. “Okay, Skimmerhorn. You go ahead and make our little world safe and sound. Anything else?”
    “I figured I might measure for those shelves you want.”
    She ran her tongue around her teeth, reached around him for the wicker basket of oranges. “Getting tired of being a man of leisure?” When he said nothing, she sliced through an orange with a wicked-looking knife. “I’ll show you what I have in mind after breakfast. As it happens, we’re not opening until noon today.” After slicing half a dozen oranges, she put the halves into a clunky-looking device that squeezed out the juice. “Why don’t you set the table?”
    “For what?”
    “Breakfast. Will makes terrific crepes.” Before he could answer, the kettle shrilled. Dora poured boiling water over the coffee. The smell was all it took.
    “Where do you keep your plates?”
    “First cupboard.”
    “One thing,” he said as he opened the cabinet door. “You might want to put some clothes on.” He sent hera slow smile that had her throat clicking shut. “The sight of your damp, half-naked body might send me into a sexual frenzy.”
    It didn’t amuse her at all to have her own words tossed back in her face. Dora poured herself a cup of coffee and walked away.
    “Smells good,” Will decided, strolling in now wearing black jeans and a sweater. His hair, a few shades lighter than Dora’s, had been blow-dried into artful disarray. He looked like an ad for Ralph Lauren. “Dora makes great coffee. Hey, would you mind switching on the tube? CNN, maybe. I haven’t heard what’s happening out there for a couple of days.” Will poured both himself and Jed a cup before rolling up his sleeves.
    “Damn you, Will!”
    Dora’s voice made her brother wince, grin. “I forgot to wash out the sink,” he explained to Jed. “She really hates to find shaving cream glopped in it.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind if it ever becomes an issue.”
    “It’s all right for her to hang underwear everyplace though.” He pitched his voice to carry out of the kitchen and through the bathroom door, adding just a dollop of sarcasm for flavor. “Growing up with two sisters, I never went into the bathroom without fighting my way