threshold.
Kirsten glanced pointedly down at the offending foot and knew she'd never be able to push it back onto the step. Then she deliberately studied his expression with a critical gaze.
"Are you here to yell at me again?" she demanded.
"Will you let me in if I promise not to raise my voice tonight?" he countered good-humoredly.
"Suit yourself," she finally said with resignation. At least he didn't appear to be in a violent mood. "I'm in the middle of a small project, but you can help," she added, a rather nasty notion occurring to her. After his words earlier in the afternoon, she thought, she should have been much too nervous to have him in the house. But somehow she felt able to cope. Perhaps because it was still light outside, the long Northwest days of spring and summer having gotten underway. A false sense of security, undoubtedly. Still, there were plenty of her neighbors outside taking advantage of the remaining daylight to wash cars and carry out trash. If necessary, a good scream would bring several, she told herself almost cheerfully. Determining to get even for his threats about dating Townsend, she led the way into her kitchen, where several pounds of aquarium gravel were waiting to be washed clean under the faucet.
"All you have to do is pour gravel into that container sitting in the sink and run water over the stuff until it's clean."
Simon eyed the task, taking in the bowl that was serving as temporary quarters for several agitated fish, the stack of aquarium plants waiting to be rinsed and the empty tank sitting on the drainboard. Then, with a decisive nod, he stripped off his rather nice, if somewhat severe, coat, tossed it on the small kitchen table, and extended his right hand toward Kirsten.
"It will be faster if you roll up my sleeve," he told her calmly, waiting interestedly for her reaction.
Without a word she stepped forward, unbuttoned the cuff, and neatly rolled it above his elbow, very aware of him studying her bent head as she attended to the task. The hard, muscled arm surprised her a little.
"You don't look as though you make your living pushing paper," she remarked without thinking and then flushed. Of course, being one-handed, it stood to reason that his right arm would have become quite strong.
"I don't do it full time," he told her, taking advantage of her closeness to slide his fingers deftly under her chin and force her to look up at him.
"Yes, well, the fish are waiting," she reminded him, feeling distinctly flustered, and took a quick step back out of reach. Somehow, she didn't want to hear the rest of his explanation.
When she had decided to put Simon to work, it hadn't occurred to Kirsten to wonder if having only one hand would hamper him, but now when she did think about it she realized there was nothing to worry about. The situation was well under control. As it always seemed to be around Simon Kendrick, she thought ruefully. She watched admiringly as he swished gravel clean in quick efficient moves.
"I always knew engineers must be good for something," she couldn't help saying rashly as he caught her eye. "I'll have to invite you over the next time I clean the aquarium!"
"I have other talents, too, you know," he told her conversationally.
"Oh? Do you do windows also?" she asked, thinking how he filled her little kitchen until there was barely room to move. As she made the flippant reply Kirsten concentrated on lifting the cleaned aquarium tank, preparing to carry it back into the living room.
"Umm. In a pinch. But I really excel at things like mind-reading."
She hesitated in the doorway, the bulky, damp tank clutched in front of her. "How useful that must be in your profession," she finally said brightly and hurried on into the living room.
"I seldom have to use the talent in my professional world. Most people are obvious enough!" He came to the doorway and watched her set the tank carefully on its stand. When she glanced at him he was wiping his hand dry on a
Kirsten glanced pointedly down at the offending foot and knew she'd never be able to push it back onto the step. Then she deliberately studied his expression with a critical gaze.
"Are you here to yell at me again?" she demanded.
"Will you let me in if I promise not to raise my voice tonight?" he countered good-humoredly.
"Suit yourself," she finally said with resignation. At least he didn't appear to be in a violent mood. "I'm in the middle of a small project, but you can help," she added, a rather nasty notion occurring to her. After his words earlier in the afternoon, she thought, she should have been much too nervous to have him in the house. But somehow she felt able to cope. Perhaps because it was still light outside, the long Northwest days of spring and summer having gotten underway. A false sense of security, undoubtedly. Still, there were plenty of her neighbors outside taking advantage of the remaining daylight to wash cars and carry out trash. If necessary, a good scream would bring several, she told herself almost cheerfully. Determining to get even for his threats about dating Townsend, she led the way into her kitchen, where several pounds of aquarium gravel were waiting to be washed clean under the faucet.
"All you have to do is pour gravel into that container sitting in the sink and run water over the stuff until it's clean."
Simon eyed the task, taking in the bowl that was serving as temporary quarters for several agitated fish, the stack of aquarium plants waiting to be rinsed and the empty tank sitting on the drainboard. Then, with a decisive nod, he stripped off his rather nice, if somewhat severe, coat, tossed it on the small kitchen table, and extended his right hand toward Kirsten.
"It will be faster if you roll up my sleeve," he told her calmly, waiting interestedly for her reaction.
Without a word she stepped forward, unbuttoned the cuff, and neatly rolled it above his elbow, very aware of him studying her bent head as she attended to the task. The hard, muscled arm surprised her a little.
"You don't look as though you make your living pushing paper," she remarked without thinking and then flushed. Of course, being one-handed, it stood to reason that his right arm would have become quite strong.
"I don't do it full time," he told her, taking advantage of her closeness to slide his fingers deftly under her chin and force her to look up at him.
"Yes, well, the fish are waiting," she reminded him, feeling distinctly flustered, and took a quick step back out of reach. Somehow, she didn't want to hear the rest of his explanation.
When she had decided to put Simon to work, it hadn't occurred to Kirsten to wonder if having only one hand would hamper him, but now when she did think about it she realized there was nothing to worry about. The situation was well under control. As it always seemed to be around Simon Kendrick, she thought ruefully. She watched admiringly as he swished gravel clean in quick efficient moves.
"I always knew engineers must be good for something," she couldn't help saying rashly as he caught her eye. "I'll have to invite you over the next time I clean the aquarium!"
"I have other talents, too, you know," he told her conversationally.
"Oh? Do you do windows also?" she asked, thinking how he filled her little kitchen until there was barely room to move. As she made the flippant reply Kirsten concentrated on lifting the cleaned aquarium tank, preparing to carry it back into the living room.
"Umm. In a pinch. But I really excel at things like mind-reading."
She hesitated in the doorway, the bulky, damp tank clutched in front of her. "How useful that must be in your profession," she finally said brightly and hurried on into the living room.
"I seldom have to use the talent in my professional world. Most people are obvious enough!" He came to the doorway and watched her set the tank carefully on its stand. When she glanced at him he was wiping his hand dry on a
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