Long and lean, she thought, with just that hint of gawky. Messy brown hair with sun-kissed tips. So wonderfully, blessedly normal. It steadied her just to look at him, to know he’d stay-this man who created super-villains and heroes, who had every season of Battlestar Galactica-both series-on DVD. A man who, she was fairly certain, didn’t know an Allen wrench from a Crescent, and trusted her to handle herself. Until he decided she couldn’t.

“Thank God you’re here,” she murmured. “Wait for me.”

She took the water back to her mother, so Dilly could wash down her tranquilizer du jour.

TWENTY-THREE

So they’re gone.” Ford gestured toward the house with the Coke he’d copped from Cilla’s kitchen.

"Yes. After a finale of motherly embraces in view of the cameras".

"Back to California?”

"No, they’re staying over in D.C. for the night, at the Willard. In that way, she can stage another couple of press ambushes, and get in the plug for her show at the National Theater in September.” Cilla held up her hands, shook her head. “It’s not entirely that calculating. Only about eighty percent was calculated. The remaining twenty was actual concern for me, which she’d have expressed and assuaged on the phone if it hadn’t been to her advantage to make the trip. It took a lot of need for her to come here, to this house. I didn’t understand until today, or fully believe until today, how genuinely it upsets her. It makes it a little easier to forgive the neglect, and accept why she was so bitter when I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.”

“And it doesn’t enter into logical thinking that if she didn’t want it, couldn’t handle it, she could have given it to you?”

“Not in Dilly’s world. It’s tit for tat. I didn’t know how much she felt unloved at the end, or how completely she felt pushed into second place to her brother in Janet’s heart. I’m not sure she’s wrong. And yes, I know she did something today she knew I didn’t want, and can justify doing it not only because it was to her advantage, but by convincing herself it was what was best for me. It’s a talent of hers.”

“She’ll be an interesting mother-in-law.”

“Oh, really.” Panic teeth clamped on her throat. “Don’t go there.”

“Already through that garden gate and meandering up the walk. ‘Meander’ being the key for now,” he said, lifting his Coke for another sip. “No rush on it.”

“Ford, you have to understand-”

“Cilla. Sorry,” Matt added, stepping out. “Looks like the flooring for the third floor’s coming in. Thought you’d want to take a look, check it out before we take it up.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do. Be right there.”

“Flooring already?” Ford asked her.

“It has to rest on site, a kind of acclimating, for a few days before installation. Since we’re doing built-ins up there, the floor has to… Never mind.”

“Okay. If my services are no longer needed here, I’m going to go try to salvage some of my workday.”

“Good. Good,” she repeated, struggling against nerves.

“Oh, I finished scanning those photos for you. Remind me to give them to you.”

“God, I’d forgotten all about them. I’ll have to thank your grandfather.”

“I think he considers it thanks enough that he got to see you in a towel.”

“And thanks for that reminder.” They came around front where the delivery truck slowly backed down her drive. “Hot dog!”

“I’ll leave you to the thrill of your wood planks.” He caught her face in his hands, kissed her. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

They would, she thought. He and his strange little dog would do just that. It was both wonderful and terrifying.

FORD LOCKED HIMSELF in his box for four straight hours. It rolled, and it rocked along. Even with all the distractions-sexy neighbor, break-ins,a new friend in the hospital, worry about sexy neighbor and falling in love with her-he was making excellent progress.

It occurred to him that Brid might be finished just about the same time Cilla’s house was. That was some superior synchronicity. But now, he deserved to shut it down and indulge in some serious sitting-on-the-veranda time. He unlocked the box, stepped back to take a long, critical look at the day’s work.

“You’re damn good, Sawyer. Don’t let anybody tell you different.”

With his back warm from the self-pat, he walked downstairs, stopping to look out the window. Not a reporter in sight, he noted, pleased for Cilla. No trucks in sight, either, which meant her day’s work should be wrapped, too. He headed to the kitchen to get a cold one and to call Spock in from the backyard for the veranda-sitting, wait-for-Cilla portion of their day.

He found a note inside the fridge, taped to a beer.

Finished? If so, drop over to Chez McGowan.

Come around back.

He grinned at the note. “Don’t mind if I do.”

She sat on the slate patio, at a teak table under a bright blue umbrella. A trio of copper pots, filled to bursting with mixed plantings, cheered the three stairs of the veranda. With her ball cap on her head, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles of her work boots, and roses rioting behind her, he thought she looked both relaxed and extraordinary.

She smiled-relaxed and easy-when he sat across from her. “I’m basking,” she told him, and gave Spock a rub.

“I noticed. When did you get this?” He flicked a finger up at the umbrella.

“It came in today, and I couldn’t resist setting it up. After I did, Shanna hauled over the planters. I picked them up on one of my sorties, and figured I’d get around to doing something with them, eventually. But she saw the table here, and ran out to the nursery, picked up the plants and did the job, just because. I’ll have to move them when we do the exterior staining and painting, but I really love looking at them now.”

She shifted, reached down and pulled two beers out of the ice in a drywall compound bucket. “And now, even better, you can bask with me.”

He twisted off the tops, then clinked his bottle to hers. “To the first of many basks under blue umbrellas. I take it you had a good day.”

“Ups and downs. It couldn’t get worse than it started, though there were bumps. My excitement over the flooring was short-lived when I discovered they’d delivered the wrong hardwood. Then claimed I’d called in to change the order from walnut to oak, which is just so much bullshit, and will delay the third-floor work schedule a full week. I did finish the closet in the third bedroom, and got a start on the one in the fourth. The vendor messed up the cut on a panel of the steam shower doors, which means a delay there, but the soaking tub I’ve had my eye on for the third bath, second floor, just went on sale. The insurance company is balking at giving me another loaner after getting hit with two claims in two days, and will surely raise my rates. I decided to bask instead of being pissed.”

“Good choice.”

“Well, delays and glitches go with the territory. The roses are blooming, and I have a blue umbrella. So enough about me. How was your day?”

“Much better than average. I solved a major problem in the work, and it rolled from there. Then I found a very nice invitation in my refrigerator. ”

“I figured you’d see it first thing, after you surfaced. I actually came upstairs first, but if I’ve ever seen anyone in the zone, you were.” Curious, interested, she cocked her head. “What was the problem solved?”

“The villain. Early version of him was Mr. Eckley, my tenth-grade algebra teacher. I’m telling you, the man was evil. But as the character developed, I knew I didn’t have the right look-physically. I wanted leaner, a little meaner, yet handsome, maybe slightly aristocratic and dissipated. Everything I tried ended up looking like John Carradine or Basil Rathbone.”

“Good looks, both. Hollowed cheeks, piercing eyes.”