pepper in the house. I threw out that bottle that came with the spice rack. I was going to make Timmy a cake for his birthday. With cinnamon frosting.”
“Who knew this?”
Her shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. I asked at the restaurant if someone had a recipe...”
And Natalie had been there, in the kitchen, looking things over, claiming that her father wanted to make sure everything was up to par. Natalie, who must have overheard Shelby talking about Timmy’s allergies and how cayenne pepper was dangerous to him. Shelby shivered, remembering how Timmy liked to lick the frosting off the spoon...
“Timmy’s allergic to cayenne pepper. It could have sent him to the hospital.”
Nick settled his hands on her trembling shoulders. “That’s it. I’m moving in with you until we clear this up.”
Oh, hell no. She waved a hand. “I’ll have the locks changed.”
“And whoever did this will break inside again. No protests, Shel. I’ll sleep on that couch. It’s a foldout, right?”
“You can’t. What about Dan? You have your old room at the main house...”
Nick’s mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. “Felicity turned it pink with flounces. If I stay there, I’ll start singing soprano and want to paint my nails.”
Not taking chances, she marched the spice out of the house and tossed it into the metal can by the garage door, making sure to clamp the lid down tight. As she trotted back up the stairs, her head pounded. Timmy could have been badly hurt with the cake she’d planned to make him. If he’d gone to the hospital, she had only catastrophic health insurance coverage. The bill would wipe her out.
Not to mention how sick her nephew would have been.
“C’mon, Shel. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Nick held her shoulders, his thumbs stroking in soothing circles. The caress sank through her wool sweater and suffused her entire body with heat.
It took her back to years ago, when he’d done much the same the night he saw her crying in the cabin over the loss of her dog. Silas had put him down because Rex had grown old and feeble and could barely walk. Silas had been gentle and compassionate, but firm.
And losing her pet, who had been her best friend, who had seen her through her parents leaving her, had crushed Shelby.
But no longer was she the softhearted teenager with stars in her eyes each time Nick Anderson drew near. Shelby jerked out of his embrace.
“I’ll be fine. If it means checking out all the spices, my refrigerator and packing a loaded pistol under my pillow like Dan does, no one’s going to get to me. Or Timmy. No one is breaking in again at the house or your place.”
She spread out her hands helplessly, frustration biting her. “Jonah said without the security cameras recording who goes in and out, the person would be hard to catch, with the staff traipsing in and out of the house.”
Rubbing the nape of his neck, Nick frowned. “Jonah Doyle can be a jerk, but he’s right in that. Anyone could have gotten into the bedroom. First thing we do, get those security cameras back up.”
Shelby shook her head. “Silas owed the alarm company a lot of money.”
“No need for an alarm company. I’ll set up a new system to monitor them from here.” His mouth compressed. “I’ll wire them myself.”
“Fine. I can show you where the cameras are.” Her jangled nerves made it feel like ants were crawling beneath her skin. “But you’re not staying here. My apartment is too small and that couch has a thin mattress.”
Nick shrugged. “I’ve bunked in much worse, and tighter spaces. It’s my skill set.”
But not around her. Never around her. It was hard enough breathing the same air as him. How could she sleep with him in the next room?
Then her gaze fell to the pistol hanging on his belt. Timmy’s welfare came first. She could control her raging libido for her nephew’s sake. Shelby walked away, hugging herself as she stared out the front window.
“So what if I haven’t had sex in eight months?”
“Been that long, huh?”
Shelby whirled to see his wide, Cheshire cat grin. “You heard.”
Nick tapped his ear. “Another skill of mine. I know how to listen, darling.”
Making a note of that, she gave him a pointed look. “Okay. You can stay here. But this is my house and my rules. You sleep here.” She pointed to the sofa. “You’ll share a bathroom with Timmy, not me. I have my own and plan to keep it that way. And no flirting and suggestive remarks or cussing. My nephew is only five.”
Nick spread his hands out in a gesture of innocence. “I’m innocent.”
Right.
He stood close enough for her to count the bristles on his chin. Nick had shaved in a hurry, neglecting one spot. Memories assailed her. Sixteen years old, scraping her fingers over his chin and then kissing that one particular spot.
Shaking free the memory, she glanced at her watch. “Felicity wants us all to dine together at the main house. Six o’clock sharp. Wear something more civilized than jeans. She likes to dress for dinner.”
He considered. “I have some black silk boxers that are formal. That do?”
Flushing, she scowled at him. “Stop it, Nick.”
Then his cocky grin dropped and his gaze turned serious. “You’ll be safer with me here, Shelby. I’m not going to leave until I find out who’s been doing these things and threatening you and the ranch. I promise you, I will catch them.”
With a nod, he headed out the door. “I’ll bring my things over later. Need to have a look around the place first.”
Watching him walk down the steps, a warm tingle raced down her spine. Not from his quiet words, or the relief they brought, but the awareness of him as a man and the unspoken intent lingering in his eyes, a sensual promise that could lead them straight down the road where they’d left off ten years ago.
And straight back into hell.
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