Hearts Divided

He takes his job so personally, she thought. As though the university is his own private place. But then, that’s probably a good trait in a janitor.



Jake Morrissey shaded his eyes with one hand. Despite his sunglasses, the Las Vegas sun was blinding, and he narrowed his eyes against the glare. The searing heat of the desert city was light years away from the cooler Puget Sound region he’d left yesterday.



He’d flown out of SeaTac airport on a red-eye express to Las Vegas barely twelve hours after he’d met Chloe Abbott at the UW Medical Center. There hadn’t been time to talk to her again, although he could’ve called her today, either on his cell or the hotel room phone. But like most of the jobs he took on, imploding the multistory casino-hotel was complicated and required all his attention. He wanted the work completed and out of the way so he could focus on Chloe. He’d grabbed three hours of sleep at the hotel before heading for the job site with his crew, already looking forward to finishing and flying home.



He hadn’t met a woman who intrigued him this much in years. Maybe never. The half hour he’d spent talking with Chloe and her grandmother had only increased his interest.



Chloe Abbott was beautiful, sexy, smart and had a quick, wry sense of humor. He was positive the attraction was mutual, but he was too far away to act on it.



He wanted her within reach when he talked to her, not a thousand miles away. Her grandmother had mentioned that Chloe lived in Queen Anne, a Seattle district only a ten-or fifteen-minute drive from the industrial end of First Avenue where his building was located.



Setting the explosives to implode the old casino would take roughly five more days. He’d be on a flight back to Seattle by the time the dust settled.



Two



“So tell me about the guy in the Tribune photo with you and Gran,” Alexie demanded as she closed the freezer door in Winifred’s kitchen. Ice-cream container in hand, she pulled open a drawer.



Chloe groaned silently. That photo. How on earth had the photographer managed to make it look as if Jake was nibbling her ear? She lifted the cake out of its box. “I’m guessing you’re referring to the photos taken at the medical center?” Her older sister wasn’t likely to be distracted enough to drop the subject of Jake Morrissey, but Chloe tried.



“Drank it in with my morning latte. Nice article, by the way,” Alexie said.



“I think so, too. The reporter did a great job and I loved that she included Gran’s background as a codebreaker during World War II.” Chloe slipped the three-tiered chocolate cake onto a heavy crystal cake stand.



“Yes, nice touch. Are you about ready with that?”



“I just need to put the candles on top.” Chloe quickly poked ten short pink candles into the dark chocolate frosting, eyed the arrangement critically, then nodded with approval.



“Let’s get back to you explaining the hot guy nibbling on your ear.”



“I was hoping you’d forget.”



“No chance. Who is he?”



“Didn’t you read the caption under the picture?”



“Of course—it gave me his name, rank and how long he’s been a civilian. What I want to hear from you is how you feel about him.”



“What do you mean how I feel about him? I just met him! We spent maybe twenty minutes talking, and most of the conversation was about the medical center and Gran. I don’t even know him.” Not that I don’t want to, Chloe thought. She pulled open two drawers before she located a book of matches. She tucked them into the pocket of her retro, swingy pink skirt and picked up the cake plate.



Alexie’s huff of disbelief spoke volumes. “The expression on Jake Morrissey’s face in that photo practically singed the edges of my morning paper and you have nothing to tell me about him? The man was kissing your ear.”



“He was not kissing my ear. He said something to me and I couldn’t hear him. When I asked him to repeat it, he leaned closer to ask me a question about Dan West and the annoying photographer chose that moment to snap the picture. That’s all there was to it.” Chloe had a swift mental image of Jake Morrissey holding her hand a shade too long when they were introduced, his dark eyes filled with male interest. She’d found it a bit disconcerting to have all that male intensity focused exclusively on her. Jake wasn’t her usual, easygoing kind of man, but she was attracted in spite of herself and had thought he was, too. But he hadn’t called.



“I might believe you if I hadn’t seen the look on his face.” Alexie used her elbow to hold open the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room and gestured Chloe to precede her. As Chloe walked past, she hissed, “This conversation isn’t over.”



“Maybe we should discuss your latest guy,” Chloe murmured, laughing when Alexie rolled her eyes. “Here we are,” she announced. Winifred, seated at one end of the gleaming mahogany table, looked up.



“Eight candles?” Winifred lifted an inquiring eyebrow, her sharp gaze sweeping Chloe and Alexie. “Why not eighty?”



“We were afraid we’d melt the frosting if we lit that many candles, Gran.” Alexie grinned, mischief on her face. “So we settled on one candle for each decade.”



Chloe set the cake plate on the table and pulled out the book of matches, lighting the candles with a flourish.



“An excellent solution.” Winifred leaned forward, drew in a deep breath and blew out the candles while her granddaughters clapped and cheered.



“I’ll cut the cake while Alexie scoops.” Chloe slid cake onto a plate before passing it to her sister to add ice cream.



“Thank you, dear.” Winifred’s white hair was cut short in a natural cap of snowy curls that framed her face. Her tailored long-sleeved silk blouse had mother-of-pearl buttons from waistline to neck, the emerald silk making her eyes glow a deeper green. She wore a treasured heirloom cameo pin at her throat, a gift from her husband when he’d returned from London more than fifty years earlier. At five foot six, her posture was still nearly perfect, her carriage erect, her walk graceful. “I’m so glad you two could be here tonight.”



“It’s tradition, Gran. What would a birthday be without a gathering of The Abbott Women?” Chloe adored her grandmother. Winifred Abbott was a force to be reckoned with, both inside and outside their tight-knit family circle. “And we’ll do this again when Mom and Lily get home in a few weeks.”



“Two birthday parties?” Winifred’s eyes twinkled. “Hmm, maybe we should do two every year.” She ran a loving hand over the glossy surface of the rosewood clock sitting on the table next to her. “Especially if it means I get another present as nice as this one.”



“I’ll talk to Mom and Lily,” Chloe said promptly.



“I was telling Chloe earlier that I read the Tribune article about the rehab equipment, Gran,” Alexie commented. “The reporter did a good job.”



Chloe flicked a threatening glance at her sister. Alexie caught the look and mouthed “What?” Chloe turned to her cake again and kept her head down.



“Thank you, Alexie,” Winifred said. “I hope the publicity generates more donations for the medical center.”



“I thought the reporter planned to interview only the soldier, you and Chloe?”



“That was her original plan, but Mr. Morrissey happened to be in the ward when we arrived, and since he once served with Dan West, she added him to the mix.”



“He owns a company called Morrissey Demolition?” Alexie asked.



“That’s right. I believe they do a variety of work,” Winifred replied. “But he apparently specializes in imploding large buildings. He’s in Las Vegas blowing up a casino-hotel this week, isn’t that correct, Chloe?”



“I didn’t hear him mention where he’s currently working, Gran.” But if he’s out of town, maybe that’s why he didn’t call. Although there were certainly telephones in Las Vegas.



“He must’ve told me about Las Vegas while you were getting ice water for young Dan. He said he’s been working there for several weeks and flew home to Seattle to attend a meeting but had to return to Nevada that evening. I’m sure he said it was a casino he was blowing up and that he’d be there for at least a few more days.”



“Does his wife travel with him?” Alexie asked casually.



“He isn’t married. He seemed quite taken with Chloe, however.”



Fully aware that two pairs of eyes immediately focused on her, Chloe shook her head. “He wasn’t all that interested, Gran. Besides, he’s not really my type.”



“Not your type?” Alexie pulled the newspaper clipping from her pocket and unfolded it in the center of the table for all to see. “Look at this picture. How could he not be your type? What is it about ‘tall, dark and handsome’ that doesn’t appeal to you?”



“Those aren’t the only qualities a woman wants,” Winifred put in mildly.



“Of course not, Gran,” Alexie said. “But it’s hard to imagine that any of the khaki-pants-and-glasses, Woody Allen-wannabe men in Chloe’s life could compete with Jake Morrissey.”



“I don’t date men who look like Woody Allen,” Chloe protested, affronted.



“The math professor you brought to Lily’s New Year’s Eve party was a nerd,” Alexie said.



“Sam is a very nice man. And I don’t date him, we’re just friends.”



“But he’s a nerd.” Alexie stared at her until Chloe gave in.



“All right. But he’s a nice nerd. And we’ve never been romantically involved.”



“It’s a sure bet Nice Nerd Sam would never nibble on your ear and look at you like Jake Morrissey did.” Alexie seemed to feel she’d had the last word, jabbing her fork at the clipping for emphasis.



“I remember when my Richard looked at me like that.” Winifred sighed, a reminiscent smile curving her lips.



“You’re mistaking annoyance for interest,” Chloe said. “Just before the reporter snapped that photo, we argued over whether Dan should go to work for him when he’s released from the hospital.”



“I’m guessing Jake thought he should?” Alexie asked. “And you thought he shouldn’t?”



“Of course I thought he shouldn’t take a job working with explosives.” Chloe frowned. “He’s already lost a leg.”



“Let’s get back to the subject of Jake Morrissey—I can’t believe you found him annoying.” Alexie waved her fork in the general direction of the clipping. “He’s way too good-looking.”



“I felt he was a very nice young man,” Winifred declared. “I didn’t find him difficult at all.”



“That’s because he went out of his way to be charming to you, Gran,” Chloe said wryly.



“He did have a certain rough-around-the-edges, Humphrey Bogart appeal,” Winifred agreed.



“From Woody Allen to Bogart.” Alexie laughed out loud. “That’s a quantum leap, Chloe.”