Time and Again

to be alone, she told herself as she glanced up and watched him stroll into the kitchen. That wasn't true. She hated to be alone for long periods of time. She liked people and conversation, arguments and parties. But he bothered her. Tapping her pen against her pad, she studied the fire. Why? That was the big question.
    Possibly loony, she wrote on her pad. Then she grinned to herself. Actually, it was more than possible that he'd had a clearance sale on the top floor. Popping out of nowhere, living in the forest, playing with faucets.
    Possibly dangerous. That turned her grin into a scowl. There weren't many men who could get past her guard the way he had. But he hadn't hurt her, and she had to admit he'd had the opportunity. Still, there was a difference between dangerous and violent.
    Forceful personality. There was an intensity about him that couldn't be ignored. Even when he was quiet, watchful in that strange way of his, he seemed to be charged. A live wire ready to shock. Then he would smile, unexpectedly, disarmingly, and you were willing to risk the jolt.
    Wildly attractive. Sunny didn't like the phrase, but it suited him too well for her not to use it. There was something ruthless and untamed in his looks-the lean, almost predatory face and the mane of dark hair.
    And his eyes, that deep, dark green that seemed to look straight into you. The heavy lids didn't give them a sleepy look, but a brooding one.
    Heathcliff, she thought, and laughed at herself. It was Libby who was the romantic one. Libby would always look into a person's heart. Sunny would always be compelled to dissect the brain.
    Absently she sketched his face on a corner of the paper. There was something different about him, she mused as she penciled in the dark brows and the heavy lashes. It bothered her that she couldn't put her finger on it. He was evasive, secretive, eccentric. She could accept all that-once she discovered what he was evading. Was he in trouble? Had he done something that required him to pack up quickly and find a place, a quiet, remote place, to hide?
    Or was it really as simple as he said? He had come to see his brother and to get a firsthand look at his brother's wife.
    No. Scowling down at the impromptu portrait, Sunny shook her head. That might be the truth, but it was no more than half of it. J.T. Hornblower was up to something. And, sooner or later, she was going to find out what it was.
    With a shrug, she set her pad aside. That was reason enough for her interest in Jacob Hornblower. She only wanted to know what made the man tick. With that in mind, she rose and went into the kitchen.
    "What in the hell are you doing?"
    Jacob glanced up. Spread all over the table in front of him were the various parts of the toaster and a carpet of crumbs. He'd found a screwdriver in a drawer and was having the time of his life.
    "It needs to be fixed."
    "Yes, but-"
    "Do you like your bread burned?"
    She narrowed her eyes. His fingers, long, lean and clever, skimmed over screws. "Do you know what you're doing?"
    "Maybe." He smiled, wondering what she would say if he told her he could dismantle an X-25 primary unit in under an hour. "Don't you trust me?"
    "No." She turned to put on the kettle. "But I don't suppose you can make it any worse than it already is."
    Friendly, she reminded herself. She would be friendly and casual, then move in for the kill. "Want some tea?"
    "Sure." With the screwdriver in his hand, he watched her walk from stove to cupboard and back to stove. Grace, he thought, when combined with strength, was an appealing combination. She had a way of shifting her weight so that her whole body flowed into the movement. Yet there was a control about her, the kind of discipline seen in athletes and dancers. And it wasn't genderless, but innately and completely female.
    When the nerves at the back of her neck began to prickle, she glanced over her shoulder. "Problem?"
    "No. I like to watch you."
    Because she didn't have a ready response for that, she poured the tea. "Want a cupcake?"
    "Okay."
    She tossed him a little chocolate cake wrapped in clear paper. "If you want something more elaborate for lunch, you're on your own." She brought the cups to the table, then sat across from him. "How are you with plumbing?"
    "Excuse me?"
    "The faucet in the tub leaks." Sunny tore the paper from her cupcake. "My solution's been to put a wash-rag on the drain to muffle the noise at night, but if you're handy there's probably a wrench