could probably fly to the moon more easily than she could afford a new boiler.
She’d still be paying off debts when she was eighty. If she lived that long. So far, her family’s batting average in terms of extended life expectancy wasn’t too encouraging.
Mrs. Kipping had been in tears at the thought of leaving, and it had taken all of Caroline’s self-control not to break into tears herself. The Kippings were a lovely couple and had been with her for almost a year. They’d been delightful company and had provided enormous comfort to her during Toby’s last days. Caroline didn’t know how she could have faced coming home to an empty house from the hospital. And after Toby’s funeral…she shivered.
In the beginning, the Kippings often remarked that they could never remodel their home into anything as beautiful as Greenbriars. That was before the lost files, the constant cold showers and waking up to ice in the bathroom sink. Caroline knew that Mr. and Mrs. Kipping were very fond of her and loved her cooking and that it was only Mrs. Kipping’s bout of bronchitis that forced their decision. Anna Kipping was fragile and Marcus, her husband, was afraid of losing her.
Still, he’d had tears in his eyes at leaving, too.
Finding a new boarder on Christmas Eve in this terrible weather was like a wonderful miracle.
Not to mention the biggie—not being alone on Christmas Day. The day she’d lost her parents to a hideous car accident. The day Toby was so injured he never walked again. It had taken him six pain-filled years to die.
So that was the lucky theory.
Then, of course, there was the crazy theory, which was probably the correct one. She was probably crazy to accept a man who looked as dangerous as Jack Prescott into her home and, as if that wasn’t enough, handing him the keys to her car half an hour after meeting him.
Marcus and Anna Kipping had been the safest people on the face of the earth—two darlings in their late sixties whose worst vices were Double Chocolate Fudge ice cream and an unholy passion for Gilbert & Sullivan. Marcus could recite the lyrics to H.M.S. Pinafore at the drop of a hat.
Jack Prescott, on the other hand, looked anything but safe. She’d felt her heart speed up as they talked, ridiculous as that sounded. Yes, he looked rather scary. He was rough-looking, tall, with the kind of muscles you can’t buy in a gym and an air of rocklike toughness.
He was also attractive as hell, which was something she’d never encountered in her boarders. Frightening, but sexy. So there might be a third theory to add to the lucky or crazy explanations—sudden hormonal overload.
When she’d briefly touched his arm, a shiver had run down her spine. She’d felt the steely muscle through his shirt and jacket, the hardest man she’d ever touched. And a flash ofheat had run through her at the idea that he was probably as hard as that…all over.
Not that he’d done anything to make her uncomfortable, other than being so frighteningly large and…and dangerous-looking.
The exact opposite of Marcus Kipping, with his predilection for cardigans encasing sloped shoulders and thin arms. Jack Prescott’s massive musculature was visible through a shirt and a jacket. He was the most thoroughly male man she’d ever met and sexy as hell.
And Caroline, who never lied to herself, realized that in the end, it was the reason she’d said yes. God help her, that flash of heat had been the reason she’d said yes. It had been so long since she’d felt it.
If she had the sense God gave a duck, she should have said no to him. No to him as a boarder and certainly no to handing over the car keys to a perfect stranger. Who knew who he was? Maybe he was a serial killer or…or a war veteran suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder and who would one day soon crack and climb a tower and start sniping at passersby. Maybe one day they’d find her lifeless body in a pool of blood, or he’d make off with what
She’d still be paying off debts when she was eighty. If she lived that long. So far, her family’s batting average in terms of extended life expectancy wasn’t too encouraging.
Mrs. Kipping had been in tears at the thought of leaving, and it had taken all of Caroline’s self-control not to break into tears herself. The Kippings were a lovely couple and had been with her for almost a year. They’d been delightful company and had provided enormous comfort to her during Toby’s last days. Caroline didn’t know how she could have faced coming home to an empty house from the hospital. And after Toby’s funeral…she shivered.
In the beginning, the Kippings often remarked that they could never remodel their home into anything as beautiful as Greenbriars. That was before the lost files, the constant cold showers and waking up to ice in the bathroom sink. Caroline knew that Mr. and Mrs. Kipping were very fond of her and loved her cooking and that it was only Mrs. Kipping’s bout of bronchitis that forced their decision. Anna Kipping was fragile and Marcus, her husband, was afraid of losing her.
Still, he’d had tears in his eyes at leaving, too.
Finding a new boarder on Christmas Eve in this terrible weather was like a wonderful miracle.
Not to mention the biggie—not being alone on Christmas Day. The day she’d lost her parents to a hideous car accident. The day Toby was so injured he never walked again. It had taken him six pain-filled years to die.
So that was the lucky theory.
Then, of course, there was the crazy theory, which was probably the correct one. She was probably crazy to accept a man who looked as dangerous as Jack Prescott into her home and, as if that wasn’t enough, handing him the keys to her car half an hour after meeting him.
Marcus and Anna Kipping had been the safest people on the face of the earth—two darlings in their late sixties whose worst vices were Double Chocolate Fudge ice cream and an unholy passion for Gilbert & Sullivan. Marcus could recite the lyrics to H.M.S. Pinafore at the drop of a hat.
Jack Prescott, on the other hand, looked anything but safe. She’d felt her heart speed up as they talked, ridiculous as that sounded. Yes, he looked rather scary. He was rough-looking, tall, with the kind of muscles you can’t buy in a gym and an air of rocklike toughness.
He was also attractive as hell, which was something she’d never encountered in her boarders. Frightening, but sexy. So there might be a third theory to add to the lucky or crazy explanations—sudden hormonal overload.
When she’d briefly touched his arm, a shiver had run down her spine. She’d felt the steely muscle through his shirt and jacket, the hardest man she’d ever touched. And a flash ofheat had run through her at the idea that he was probably as hard as that…all over.
Not that he’d done anything to make her uncomfortable, other than being so frighteningly large and…and dangerous-looking.
The exact opposite of Marcus Kipping, with his predilection for cardigans encasing sloped shoulders and thin arms. Jack Prescott’s massive musculature was visible through a shirt and a jacket. He was the most thoroughly male man she’d ever met and sexy as hell.
And Caroline, who never lied to herself, realized that in the end, it was the reason she’d said yes. God help her, that flash of heat had been the reason she’d said yes. It had been so long since she’d felt it.
If she had the sense God gave a duck, she should have said no to him. No to him as a boarder and certainly no to handing over the car keys to a perfect stranger. Who knew who he was? Maybe he was a serial killer or…or a war veteran suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder and who would one day soon crack and climb a tower and start sniping at passersby. Maybe one day they’d find her lifeless body in a pool of blood, or he’d make off with what
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