Protecting Peggy

The thought brought all of her nerves swimming to the surface. She picked up a jar of herbed vinegar, set it back down. He would not be good for her, she knew that. Still, knowing something wasn’t good for you didn’t stop you from wanting to sample it.

Which was something she wasn’t going to do. A week from now Rory Sinclair might possibly be back in D.C., working in his lab. And, just because he didn’t have children didn’t mean there wasn’t a Mrs. Sinclair waiting for him at home.

That she suddenly found herself hoping he didn’t have a wife had Peggy scowling. She had no clue what it was that made her thoughts about one of her guests turn totally idiotic. Whatever it was, she was done with it. She was a professional. A businesswoman.

“It’s agreed, Mr. Sinclair,” she said in her most efficient tone. “I’ll prepare whatever dessert you’d like each evening in exchange for your testing the inn’s water every day. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to deal with breakfast.”

He opened his mouth to respond when a loud clatter came from the hallway. An instant later, a masculine voice filled the air with vicious curses.

Panic tripped Peggy’s heart. “That sounds like Mr. O’Connell. Samantha, stay here.”

Peggy darted to the kitchen door on Rory’s heels, raced down the hallway at his side. Just as they reached the foyer, the two caftan-clad art judges burst from the hallway that led to the dining room, the mass of metal and wood bracelets both women wore clanking in unison. When Peggy saw the EPA inspector sitting on the bottom stair, massaging his right ankle, she realized he must have taken a tumble down the staircase.

She rushed to him, placed her hand on his arm. “Are you all right, Mr. O’Connell? Do I need to call a doctor?”

He jerked away, anger shimmering in his eyes as he surged up on one foot and leaned against the newel post. “Dammit to hell, woman, what kind of place are you running here?”

Peggy’s chin rose. “One in which you don’t have to yell at the top of your lungs for me to hear you. Now, please calm down and tell me how badly you’re hurt. Do I need to call a doctor?”

“No, dammit, I don’t need a doctor. I need a safety inspector.”

Peggy shook her head. “What for?”

“Oh, Bugs!”

Peggy had no idea Samantha had disobeyed her instructions to stay in the kitchen until she heard her daughter’s high-pitched wail.

“That’s what for.” Propping against the banister, O’Connell jerked his head toward the floor at the bottom of the staircase.

Peggy’s heart sank when she saw Samantha bent over her beloved pink rabbit, its head torn off and stuffing strewn on the wood floor.

“Damn thing was at the top of the stairs,” O’Connell said. “Caused me to slip and fall.”

Samantha glared up at O’Connell, tears streaming down her cheeks while she hugged the bunny’s torso. “You broke Bugs’s head off!”

“Hey, it’s a miracle I didn’t break my own neck.”

Peggy crouched, pulled her sobbing child into her arms. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.” She would have to have another stern talk with Samantha about leaving her toys lying around the inn. Now, however, was not the time.

“Your kid’s not hurt.” O’Connell delivered the words in a steel tone. “I am. You ought to keep that in mind.”

Peggy lifted her gaze to his. From where she crouched, he looked disconcertingly big. And strong. She hated the fact she was nearly kneeling at his feet, but she couldn’t do anything about that. Not while Samantha clung to her while she sobbed hot tears against her shoulder.

“It’ll be okay, Bugs,” Samantha murmured between watery gasps as she rocked the animal. “I’ll fix you.”

Peggy ran a soothing palm down the child’s dark curls. “Mr. O’Connell, I am very concerned about you. Do you need a doctor?”

“A lawyer’s more like it.”

“I’ve got a question, O’Connell,” Rory said as he stepped between them. Peggy sensed that a protective barrier had suddenly risen in front of her and her child. Still crouched on the floor with Samantha crying against her shoulder, she leaned forward so she could see each man’s face in profile.

“What’s the question, Sinclair?” the EPA inspector asked.

“Why do you want a lawyer?”

“The kid—”

“Samantha,” Rory said evenly. “Her name’s Samantha.”

“Yeah, well, she left that rabbit in the middle of the stairs. The fall I took could have killed me.”

“So, you want a lawyer because you’re thinking of suing Mrs. Honeywell?”

O’Connell looked at Peggy. “Maybe.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Unless we can work out something.”

She gritted her teeth while heated anger pooled in her cheeks. If Samantha and her other guests weren’t present, she would ask the idiot if he actually thought his threatening her with a lawsuit would compel her to sleep with him.

Rory hooked a thumb in the front pocket of his jeans. “Here’s the deal, O’Connell. If you call a lawyer, I’ll have to talk to him, too.”

A guarded look settled in the man’s eyes. “About what?”

“I came down to breakfast ten minutes ago. I saw the pink bunny at the top of the staircase.”

“See—”

“Not in the middle of the staircase. Off to one side. Against the wall, in fact.” Rory shrugged. “Didn’t look like a safety problem to me. It sounds more like you just got clumsy. If you had gotten hurt, it would have been your own fault. Besides, what does it say about an inspector who trips over something hot pink?”

“We saw the bunny, too, Mr. O’Connell,” one of the art judges volunteered while the other nodded in agreement. “This gentleman is right. The bunny was against the wall. You must not have been looking where you were going.”

Apparently realizing he was outnumbered, O’Connell scowled. “Yeah, okay. I guess I’m more shaken up than anything.”

Peggy swiveled her head, gave the women a grateful smile. “Ladies, would you please escort Mr. O’Connell into the dining room? I’ll have breakfast ready in just a few minutes.”

O’Connell limped across the foyer between the two women, their bracelets clanking as they each patted one of his arms. Murmuring their sympathies, they steered O’Connell down the hallway that led to the dining room.

Peggy gave Samantha a hug, then settled on the bottom step. “Sweetheart, why don’t you take Bugs to your room? While you’re at preschool, I’ll see if I can sew him back together.”

“Can you fix him, Momma?” Voice hitching, Samantha stared at her through swollen, tearful eyes. “Can you really fix him?”

Cupping the small, tearstained face in her hands, Peggy placed a light kiss on her daughter’s trembling lips. “I can try.”

“Okay.” Samantha bent and gathered up the bunny’s head. Snuggling it and the fuzzy, pink body against her chest, she headed toward the hallway.

Peggy shook her head. “Dear Lord, give me strength.”

Chuckling softly, Rory offered his hand. “All this before breakfast. Are things always this eventful around Honeywell House?”

She hesitated an instant before sliding her hand into his. His flesh felt warm and firm against hers as he helped her to her feet.