Man With A Message. Muriel Jensen

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СКАЧАТЬ could just settle down, keep working and going to school so that he could finally achieve the goal for which he’d come here. He wanted an MBA behind him before he bought the old Chandler Mill outside of town and turned it into office space and apartments.

      He’d talked to Evan Braga about it, and he thought the idea was sound. Braga was another of Hank’s men who did painting and wallpapering, and sold real estate on the side. He’d been a cop in Boston and had come to Maple Hill for the same reason Cam had—to start over. He hadn’t said why and Cam hadn’t asked.

      Anyway…if he was going to buy a house in Maple Hill, it should be one of the classic salt boxes or Georgians that were such a part of the area’s history.

      But he loved this house. From the moment he’d arrived at Hank’s party all those months ago, he’d felt as if the house had a heartbeat.

      He let himself in and flipped on the light in the front room. Fred stayed right beside him intimidated by the new surroundings. As Cam walked from room to room, he became aware of details he hadn’t noticed before. The master bedroom had a fireplace that was also open to the bathroom, which had two sinks and vanities, a sunken tub and greenery growing all around it. It was probably what a Roman bath would have looked like. He could imagine lying in the tub after a particularly grueling and dirty day in the pipes, and being warmed by a real fire. Here was a tendency toward hedonism he didn’t even realize he had. Each of the three bedrooms upstairs had a private bath.

      He walked back downstairs to look around outside and Fred went wild, running through the tall grass that rimmed the lake, chasing imaginary quarry in the dark. He stopped to sniff the air and bark his delight to the woods across the road.

      The property spread for five acres in both directions, and except for Fred’s footsteps, there was nothing but the sound of insects. The natural perfume of the dark quiet night took his breath away.

      A broad deck ran all around the house, and Cam remembered Hank saying that when he’d bought the place, he’d anticipated having barbecues and inviting his friends. But Whitcomb’s Wonders had been more successful than even he’d imagined, and family life had kept him too busy.

      Cam looked at the covered gas grill in a corner of the porch, and the wide picnic table beside it. “I could have the guys over for a barbecue,” he thought aloud. He could get a small boat and go fishing.

      As a child, he’d never been able to bring anyone home because of the unpredictable condition of his parents. He’d dreamed of inviting friends over, hosting parties, having a Christmas open house the way his friends’ parents did.

      A curious hopefulness stirred in the middle of his chest. He could do that here. He could…maybe…someday…give some thought to getting married again, having a family.

      “Oh, whoa!” he said to himself.

      Fred, hearing the command and thinking it applied to him, came racing back. Cam caught him as he jumped against his chest.

      “I’m getting carried away here, Fred,” he said, going back to the front door to make sure he’d locked it. “That’s the trouble with having a cold, grim childhood and a selfish wife. You get a glimpse of warmth and happiness and you become this greedy monster, wanting more and more.”

      Fred raced around his legs, apparently seeing nothing wrong with that.

      Cam tested the doorknob and, finding it secure, led the way back to the truck and the little apartment behind the fire station. So he had cardiac arrest every time the alarm went off. He was learning to live with it.

      He didn’t need the house. And so far his life had taught him that you didn’t always get what you needed, much less what you wanted.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      THE ALARM SHRIEKED in Cam’s ear. Without moving his head from the pillow, he reached out to slam it off.

      Blessed quiet.

      He’d finally gone to bed at 4:00 a.m. and set the alarm for seven. There was too much to do at the school today to allow for eight hours’ sleep. But certainly he could steal another fifteen minutes.

      Fred, however, had other plans. The Lab, awake at the foot of the bed and waiting for the smallest sign that Cam was awake, leaped onto his chest and bathed his face with dog kisses.

      Cam tried to push him away, but he was weak after the all-night session and the measly three hours’ sleep. The dog plopped down on top of him and chewed on his chin.

      Cam knew if he didn’t get up he’d be eaten. It would be done with affection, but he’d be eaten.

      “Okay, Fred, that’s enough,” he said calmly but firmly, pushing the dog off.

      He sat up to swing his legs over the side of the bed just as Fred decided he’d cooperated long enough and it was time for some serious extreme wrestling. Growling, large mouth open in what Cam thought of as his alligator mode, Fred attacked.

      Cam’s body, unfortunately aimed toward the edge of the bed, went over the side, dog atop him and gleefully pretending to kill him.

      MARIAH HEADED FROM THE CAR where Parker waited, along the little walkway to the stairs that led up to Cameron Trent’s apartment. She’d awakened this morning determined to apologize to the man who’d given her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and been slapped for his efforts.

      Provided the man was Cameron Trent. And provided he would even want to listen to her. She intended to reassure him quickly that she would take only a moment of his time, then she would never darken his doorway again.

      She climbed the stairs, rehearsing her little speech. “Mr. Trent, I apologize for slapping you. I thought you were my…” No. That was too much information.

      “Mr. Trent, I apologize for slapping you. I was in a sort of dream state and your lips were…” No, no! Too revealing of feelings she didn’t understand and he was bound to misinterpret.

      “Mr. Trent, I’m sorry I hit you. I awoke to see a stranger leaning over me and I…I…”

      Okay, get it straight! She told herself firmly. Don’t stammer like an idiot. Maybe a simple “I’m sorry.” He’d know what she was sorry about, so there was little point in belaboring why it had happened.

      She checked the note in her hand. Apartment E. Parker had called Addy at the Breakfast Barn, where she always had breakfast with her cronies, and learned Trent’s address.

      She stopped in front of the end apartment upstairs, pulled aside the screen door and, bracing herself, knocked lightly twice. The door squeaked open.

      She heard a commotion beyond the door and concluded he must have the television on. She knocked a little louder. The door opened farther, making the commotion inside more audible.

      But it wasn’t the television. Someone was being attacked! By…dogs? In Maple Hill? The man’s cries sounded desperate. She looked around for help, but Parker couldn’t see her from the car.

      She couldn’t just walk away. This man had possibly saved her life; the least she could do was make an effort for him.

      She looked around for a weapon and, finding none, simply took a firm hold of the handle of her purse, burst СКАЧАТЬ