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house?”
    “The bedrooms all have lake views.”
    “Let me rephrase the question,” she said almost impatiently
as she half turned toward him. “Are there any rooms that could be turned into a
bedroom that are more secure than this one? For example a den with no windows
or a den with windows facing a nearby house.” Brook offered up an explanation
before he requested one. “The shorter the space your enemy has to work with,
the easier it is for one of us to sense their intent before they make a move
with a ranged weapon.”
    “I wish there were. The only room that has a window facing a
neighbor is the kitchen. Every other has either a lake view, a bay window
facing the road or is too small to fit a bed.”
    Brook’s lips tightened. He could sense the irritation
flowing off her without an empathic link, because it was an extreme emotion.
She thought they’d been negligent. Against all reason, Morgan was embarrassed.
    She brushed past him with three long strides. “Then we work
on making this one secure. Show me any spare wood you have. If you have none,
then show me to your linen closet.”
    When the first thing that came to mind was the discomfort in
his pants, Morgan knew this was the beginning of the longest night in his
entire life.

Chapter Three
     
    They couldn’t have lived in the cottage for more than a few
months. Nonetheless Brook couldn’t rid herself of her unreasonable frustration.
Morgan had claimed there was no wood to be had yet a quick visit to the garage
had yielded enough plywood to temporarily fortify the windows in his bedroom as
well as extra for the door. And he’d been no help when she’d needed nails and a
hammer.
    What sort of male didn’t know where the hammer was located
in his house? Certainly the sort who needed a Ranger to clean up his messes.
    Brook was glad Morgan had rushed to his home office despite
its lack of security. He’d have seen her disgusted expression if he’d remained.
She wasn’t about to apologize for thinking he was deficient as a male. Yet the
fact that he had escaped rather than help tack up the plywood hadn’t
improved her opinion of him.
    After the wood was secured to Brook’s satisfaction, she
settled down on the floor beneath the window. She ’ d
need several minutes of concerted effort to banish her ill will toward her client.
    Though he was sniveling, weak and naïve, as his appointed
Ranger she had a duty to uphold. It didn ’ t
matter that she didn’t believe him worthy of the position he held or that this
hardship ought to pave the way for a priest who could handle the burden.
She would protect him because she’d accepted the task.
    Brook’s meditation on the matter stretched from her usual
five minutes into sections of an hour. His cool ocean scent had managed to
cling to every surface in his room. She couldn’t inhale without being reminded
of summers on the Pacific Coast. The distraction made true meditation
impossible. Brook breathed through her mouth and tried harder.
    Could she truly find a solution for this situation? Never
before had she been so disappointed in a client as she was today. And Morgan
had done little more than fail to know the contents of the house he’d inherited
and rush off to his office to avoid manual labor. Where was the indifference
she was famed for among the more emotionally charged Rangers?
    The answer would be to simply solve the riddle of Morgan’s
assassins rather than delve into her unfortunate emotions. Brook concentrated
on the task at hand.
    * * * * *
    Morgan set his head onto his palm as a weary sigh expelled
from his chest. “Priestesses,” he said when the bickering on the other end of
the speakerphone heightened. “We have been at this for the past hour and forty
minutes with no headway. I motion we table the discussion for the night and
pick it back up tomorrow after we’ve had a decent night’s rest and a good
meal.”
    “You’re the boss,” one of the priestesses said.
    A second