went well enough to begin with, though having to move the ladder every few yards used up an astonishing amount of energy, but the real trouble began when she tackled the bedroom windows. All the others opened onto the porch which offered a nice stable platform from which to work. The ground below the bedroom, however, fell away steeply and was knee-deep in grass, stinging nettles and wild honeysuckle.
Doubtfully, she sized up the situation. Finding a firm footing for the ladder was difficult enough, but scaling rungs fully fifteen feet in the air taxed her dwindling courage to the limit. She’d never had a good head for heights. And to make matters worse, the glare from the sun hitting the uncovered glass half blinded her.
“Careful, Bounder!” she exclaimed at one point, clinging to the window frame as he charged past and headed up the slope toward the house with more than usual exuberance. “Up-end this ladder while I’m on it and you and I are going to have a very serious falling out.”
From somewhere on the deck, Liam McGuire’s sardonic tones floated back a reply. “That’s assuming you live to talk about it, Goldilocks. In case you didn’t notice, your dumb dog just disturbed a wasps’ nest and unless you want to risk being badly stung, you’re going to have to stay where you are until it gets dark which, by my reckoning, isn’t going to happen for another eleven hours.”
Given his sour disposition, there was every chance he was lying, just to provoke her. But the buzzing sound which she’d vaguely noticed and attributed to the electric generator gave undeniable credence to his words. “When did you get back?” she said, suddenly and deeply regretting having yielded to the whim to do him a favor.
“More to the point, when did you?” he said. “I don’t recall inviting you, though I do distinctly remember your assuring me you wouldn’t bother me again.”
The buzzing grew ominously closer and she cringed, certain that at any minute she’d feel insect feet crawling up her bare legs. “Do you think,” she said, hanging on by her fingernails, “that we could pursue this discussion after I’ve figured a way out of my present predicament?”
“You?” He gave a bark of contemptuous laughter. “You couldn’t figure your way out of a brown paper bag without help. Face it, honey, you’re the one needing favors from me, this time—unless you think Blunder’s about to come to the rescue.”
“His name’s Bounder,” she said from between clenched teeth. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d appreciate it if you’d try to keep him away from the foot of this ladder. I don’t want him to get stung.”
“Well, heaven forfend!” He was jeering at her again but, to his credit, he snapped his fingers sharply and, in quite a different voice, ordered, “Blunder, come!”
Amazingly, she heard the faint click of claws on the wooden porch, followed by a thump as Liam McGuire rapped out, “Sit!”
“Pity you don’t have an equally winning way with people,” she couldn’t help observing.
“I’d save the smart-ass remarks until I was safely on firm ground again, if I were you,” he said. “You’re in no position to be passing judgment on anyone, least of all the guy you expect to come to your rescue.”
She ventured a look down and hastily closed her eyes as the ground swam up to meet her. “How are you going to get me down, with all those wasps swarming around?”
“I’m not,” he said. “And if that’s what you’re hoping for, you’re in for a disappointment. Your only choice is to haul the rest of the boards off that window which I’ll then open from the inside so you can crawl through.”
Swing one leg over that narrow sill? Heavenly days, it was all she could do to maintain her balance with both feet planted on the ladder rung! “I…don’t think I can do that, Mr. McGuire.”
“Then I hope you remembered to go pee before you came over here, because you’re stuck up there for the duration,” he said bluntly.
Oh, he was the most vulgar, insensitive man ever to walk the face of the earth and, forgetting to be cautious, she swung her head around to tell him so. But the ladder gave a shudder, as though to remind her that it wouldn’t take much to send it—and her—sliding down the slope.
“All right, we’ll do it your way,” she said faintly.
“Good girl.”
Was it possible that was a hint of sympathy—of kindness even, that she heard in his voice?
“Stay put until I get myself into the bedroom,” he went on. “Then do exactly as I tell you.”
The wheelchair whispered away and a moment later his voice came again, this time on the other side of the shutters. “This is your lucky day, Janie. The window slides open so all you need to do is pry off a couple of boards and make an opening wide enough to get your butt through. I’ll take care of the rest.”
She had no reason to believe him, at least on the last point. Not only was he wheelchair-bound, he’d shown no inclination to be chivalrous. Yet what choice did she have but to put herself at his mercy?
“Well?” he asked, impatience already eroding his temporary show of kindness. “Make up your mind. Do we have a deal or not?”
“We have a deal,” she said. “Thank you, Mr. McGuire.”
CHAPTER TWO
HOW he managed it, she didn’t know—nor, given her precarious situation, did Jane choose that moment to demand any explanations. It was enough that one minute she was teetering in midair, almost afraid to breathe as she wrestled the first board loose, and the next, he’d reached through six inches of open window to bring the whole operation to a speedy conclusion.
That solidly muscular forearm and the unshakeable strength in his hand reassured her as nothing else could. In no time, the rest of the glass was uncovered. All that remained was for her to gather up what was left of her courage and climb inside the house.
It should have been easy; would have been, if she hadn’t immediately realized that the ladder was positioned too far to the left of the open end of the window. A full two feet of empty space separated her from safety, and the mere idea of launching herself across it was as far-fetched as trying to leap the Grand Canyon.
Liam McGuire saw her hesitation. “You haven’t come this far to chicken out now,” he said. “Quit scaring yourself witless and get on with it.”
Perspiration prickled all over her body.
Perspiration, nothing! It was sweat, pure and simple, imprisoning her in clammy fear. “I can’t do it,” she quavered, eyeing the chasm between them.
“You can’t not do it, woman!” he said flatly. “You got yourself into this mess and since I’m damn near useless in this wheelchair, you’re going to have to get yourself out. So stop the hyperventilating, grab a hold of the top of the window frame, and climb onto the ledge. There’s nothing to it.”
Nothing to it? Her voice rose nearly a full octave. “Are you out of your mind? That ledge is scarcely wide enough to hold a seagull!”
He glared at her from eyes turned brilliant aquamarine in the reflection of sunlight on water. It was the kind of look which, all by itself, probably had
