ambulance?”
“Only if Colin doesn’t quit jumping down my throat.” Jessie glared. “Hello, you’d think a girl could get a little sympathy for having just gotten barbecued.”
Colin shook his head, silently eyeing Jessie. He’d almost had a heart attack when he saw her jerk back. Instinctively he’d known what must have happened. He didn’t remember crossing the room. Didn’t remember anything except laying his hand on her to be sure she breathed. That her heart beat strong within her chest.
“Good.” J.P. turned to two techies and instructed them to check out the electrical wiring and to make sure this never happened again.
Colin watched their every move while they did a complete check on the electrical board. His own heart thudded with a tenacity that suggested he’d been the one electrocuted. He might buy an argument that he had. When he’d placed his fingertips over Jessie’s pulse. Something powerful sure moved through him. Something hot and dangerous.
“Frayed wire,” one of them said, pointing to a rough spot on one of the cords.
Needing to clear his mind of his irrational thoughts of Jessie, Colin stooped to inspect the wire. “It’s been tampered with.”
The man shrugged. “It’s more likely that something snagged the cord.”
“I’ve never noticed a rough spot in the past.”
The man gave him a so what look.
“When was the last time this was checked?”
The other guy frowned. “Routine maintenance is monthly, but it could have been overlooked.”
“What would have rubbed against this, or snagged it, to strip the coating off the wires?” Colin knew the answer. Nothing.
Both men looked perplexed. “Beats us.”
Jessie grabbed his arm, drawing his attention. “Let it go. It was an accident. It’s not like they frayed the wire.”
Her eyes met his and Colin looked away, unwilling for her to read his thoughts.
Someone had frayed the wire. He was sure of it.
* * *
“Mr. Smith, I just have to tell you how moved I was when I read your writing,” Jessie cooed to the beaming, skinny man who made Colin think of Ichabod Crane, right down to the thin ponytail tied with a ribbon. “Tell us about the writing contest you won.”
The high-cheeked man blushed under Jessie’s attention, but managed to throw the words together to tell about the erotic literary contest he’d won. The piece Colin had fought to keep off his show.
Only this wasn’t his show any more.
Not in any shape form or fashion.
And as much as he wanted his old, safe show back, not like what happened today. What idiot frayed those wires? The thought they’d been intentionally stripped sent his blood pressure through the roof.
Marian had come to him to get rid of Jessie, had she grown impatient and hired someone to do the job in a more permanent way?
“Colin?”
He blinked at Jessie, cursing his stupidity for getting lost in his own thoughts rather than pay attention to their guest. How was she remaining so calm? She’d almost been killed. He’d have expected her to play the accident for all it was worth, work it to her advantage. “Yes?”
“Yes, you’ll read an excerpt from Mr. Smith’s The Blooming Rose? Oh, goody.” Her eyes lit, and she rubbed her hands together.
Him? Read that pornography on television? “I think you’d do Mr. Smith’s prose more justice than I.”
“Oh, please do.” Ichabod took Jessie’s hand. “I’d love to hear The Blooming Rose spilling like a drop of dew from your petal-like lips.”
He just bet the guy would . Colin rolled his eyes. The purple-prosed pervert.
Jessie giggled. “Okay, so maybe I would do a better job at reading erotic poetry than Colin, but come on, admit it, ladies,” Jessie winked at the camera conspiratorially, “yummy Colin reading erotic poetry was worth trying for, now wasn’t it?”
Yummy Colin? The electricity had fried her brain. Why anyone would want to hear him read erotic poetry he couldn’t fathom.
“Like the softest
“Only if Colin doesn’t quit jumping down my throat.” Jessie glared. “Hello, you’d think a girl could get a little sympathy for having just gotten barbecued.”
Colin shook his head, silently eyeing Jessie. He’d almost had a heart attack when he saw her jerk back. Instinctively he’d known what must have happened. He didn’t remember crossing the room. Didn’t remember anything except laying his hand on her to be sure she breathed. That her heart beat strong within her chest.
“Good.” J.P. turned to two techies and instructed them to check out the electrical wiring and to make sure this never happened again.
Colin watched their every move while they did a complete check on the electrical board. His own heart thudded with a tenacity that suggested he’d been the one electrocuted. He might buy an argument that he had. When he’d placed his fingertips over Jessie’s pulse. Something powerful sure moved through him. Something hot and dangerous.
“Frayed wire,” one of them said, pointing to a rough spot on one of the cords.
Needing to clear his mind of his irrational thoughts of Jessie, Colin stooped to inspect the wire. “It’s been tampered with.”
The man shrugged. “It’s more likely that something snagged the cord.”
“I’ve never noticed a rough spot in the past.”
The man gave him a so what look.
“When was the last time this was checked?”
The other guy frowned. “Routine maintenance is monthly, but it could have been overlooked.”
“What would have rubbed against this, or snagged it, to strip the coating off the wires?” Colin knew the answer. Nothing.
Both men looked perplexed. “Beats us.”
Jessie grabbed his arm, drawing his attention. “Let it go. It was an accident. It’s not like they frayed the wire.”
Her eyes met his and Colin looked away, unwilling for her to read his thoughts.
Someone had frayed the wire. He was sure of it.
* * *
“Mr. Smith, I just have to tell you how moved I was when I read your writing,” Jessie cooed to the beaming, skinny man who made Colin think of Ichabod Crane, right down to the thin ponytail tied with a ribbon. “Tell us about the writing contest you won.”
The high-cheeked man blushed under Jessie’s attention, but managed to throw the words together to tell about the erotic literary contest he’d won. The piece Colin had fought to keep off his show.
Only this wasn’t his show any more.
Not in any shape form or fashion.
And as much as he wanted his old, safe show back, not like what happened today. What idiot frayed those wires? The thought they’d been intentionally stripped sent his blood pressure through the roof.
Marian had come to him to get rid of Jessie, had she grown impatient and hired someone to do the job in a more permanent way?
“Colin?”
He blinked at Jessie, cursing his stupidity for getting lost in his own thoughts rather than pay attention to their guest. How was she remaining so calm? She’d almost been killed. He’d have expected her to play the accident for all it was worth, work it to her advantage. “Yes?”
“Yes, you’ll read an excerpt from Mr. Smith’s The Blooming Rose? Oh, goody.” Her eyes lit, and she rubbed her hands together.
Him? Read that pornography on television? “I think you’d do Mr. Smith’s prose more justice than I.”
“Oh, please do.” Ichabod took Jessie’s hand. “I’d love to hear The Blooming Rose spilling like a drop of dew from your petal-like lips.”
He just bet the guy would . Colin rolled his eyes. The purple-prosed pervert.
Jessie giggled. “Okay, so maybe I would do a better job at reading erotic poetry than Colin, but come on, admit it, ladies,” Jessie winked at the camera conspiratorially, “yummy Colin reading erotic poetry was worth trying for, now wasn’t it?”
Yummy Colin? The electricity had fried her brain. Why anyone would want to hear him read erotic poetry he couldn’t fathom.
“Like the softest
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