Jamming them into a drawer, she refused to think about the problems Kurt left behind.
She had enough of her own to sort through without more of his grief.
Bo lined up another nail. "Anything missing from the meds?"
The hammer landed home with a smack hard enough to make her wince.
Sheesh, she was strung tight from too much roller coaster in the past few hours.
Discussing practical details would be so much safer than addressing what really hung in the air between them right now—a killer kiss.
She fell back onto her butt and tossed papers into the cardboard box to be sorted later.
How dare someone invade her life like this, threaten her family? "I can't be sure what's here until I take inventory."
"Are veterinary drugs usable for humans?" He stuck three more nails between his teeth.
"Sure, some of them are major targets for the black market, two drugs in particular.
Ketamine and diazepam—or Valium as it's more commonly known."
He pulled the last nail from between his teeth. "What's Ketamine?"
"Ketamine is used for human burn victims. We use it for temporary, quick procedures."
She settled into the comfort zone of her career. Here, at least, she was in control. "It's effective on cats when we declaw them, also works as an injectible preanesthetic on dogs and cats when mixed with diazepam. Ketamine is a strong hallucinogenic, and wow can you ever tell it when those poor kitties wake up."
"I imagine that has a high street value." He tapped the last nail head flat and dropped the hammer back into the toolbox, along with the fist full of nails clink, clink, clinking into the tray.
"You're right." Rising, she hefted the box up onto the corner of the desk.
He leaned back against the patched cabinet, hands tucked away in his jeans pockets. "Can you think of another explanation for why someone would break in?"
"Besides looking for drugs?" Plenty of reasons, all so scary they made her want to grab the Aztec blanket off the back of the office sofa and ward off the oncoming chill of premonition. "You mean because of Kurt."
"He died before he fingered all of his connections."
"He and his attorney were working to cut deals with the D.A. for a better sentence." And signed his own death warrant by giving those connections time to shut him up permanently.
"If those connections think you have information, they might come after you."
"I don't have a clue about his—" She plopped onto the sofa and forced herself to consider his words. "But of course they don't know that. Why wait a year to come after me?"
"If we knew, we'd have the answer to who did this."
"So we're back to square one and a messy office." We. Ooops. She'd been right to fear leaning on him, because it was beyond easy to think in we terms when Bo Rokowsky strutted into her life with all his quick answers and help.
Would he notice her we slip?
If he did, at least he stayed silent. He just kept those sexy baby blues pinned on her with slow blinking assessment that reminded her of the moment he'd pulled off her glasses to give her a kiss she couldn't afford to remember—but didn't stand a chance of forgetting.
Her lips parted, her lungs suddenly hungry for more air to relieve the building pressure in her br**sts tingling with the phantom sensation of pressing against the hard wall of his chest.
Footsteps sounded outside the office, halting footsteps that brought a welcome reminder she had bigger concerns than sexual frustration.
Seth poked his head around the door, leaning on his cane. "Hey, Paige, Kirstie woke up, nightmares from all this garbage going on. She needs you to tuck her in again."
Paige bolted to her feet. "Thanks, Seth." She shot a glance at Bo on her way out the door.
"And thank you for your help."
The thought of her child's cries squeezed maternal instincts hard with the reminder of the main reason she couldn't afford to shout uncle for even one weak second. Turning her back on Bo and temptation, Paige sprinted down the hall and up the back stairs toward her daughter.
Paige's speeding footsteps echoed in the empty office. Bo shoved away from the boarded-up medicine cabinet, righting a chair on his way to the door out into the reception area.
Who would want drugs and why? In spite of any other theories, the obvious answer was teenage vandalism. Connecting it to Kurt Haugen as they'd discussed was a stretch, although a part of him wouldn't mind laying blame at that bastard's feet. His mind also niggled with possibilities closer to home. He wanted to trust the people in Paige's life, but he'd learned long ago that sometimes folks hurt the ones they loved.
His eyes landed on the two Jansen men behind the reception counter, Vic shuffling loose papers back into files while Seth shoved them into the drawers. The two lumberjack-size guys wore the same face with way different personalities. Vic with his John Deere hat and stoic grief. Seth with his battered fishing cap, cargo shorts and don't-give-a-crap air.
What if the break-in was a cover up for someone closer to home? Seth was in a helluva lot of pain. Could he have helped himself to some relief? Even if he'd been off with Kirstie, he could have tipped off a friend about when the place would be vacant.
His hands ached with memories of his own recovery. There had been more than one moment when he might have sold his soul for an extra shot of mor**ine to get through physical therapy.
Bo studied the man's eyes. The pupils were a hint larger, but it was nighttime.
He shifted his focus back to Vic. It was his practice, so why trash the place if he needed something? And the guy seemed earnest in wanting to help his sister, in which case he wouldn't have stressed her with something like this.
The veterinarian stopped to study one of the folders, cross-referencing with computer data. "I keep thinking about that guy who approached Kirstie at the air show."
Was Vic trying to throw him off the trail by mentioning the air-show guy to him—and to the cops earlier? "Have you spoken to Kirstie about it?"
"Paige and I both talked to her even before this, but the kid's not coughing up any new info other than what you two saw—the back of a blond guy in some kind of repairman's uniform. The discussion seemed to scare her even more until she clammed up. We're walking a fine line here with a kid who's already on shaky ground, given what's happened over the past year." He slapped manila folders in a steady rhythm, the counter slowly reappearing from under the mess of the break-in.
"It's a reach connecting the guy." Although, the encounter still set off more than a few warning bells in his mind.
"That it is. But then, as much as I didn't like Kurt Haugen, I would have considered it a reach that he would ever sink so low." His hands slowed, his shoulder dropping. "Maybe I should have, so I could have saved my sister a load of heartache."
"He fooled people who saw him every day." Bo knelt to rake trash back into a wastebasket, not sure he wanted to follow this conversational path.
Seth snorted. "The guy was in debt up to his ass with his restaurant business. He was ripe for the picking when the mob approached him. Not that it justifies anything."
"Just trying to make sense of it all."
Seth swept off his ratty fishing hat and Frisbee-tossed it across the counter. "It sucks not knowing when the boom might smack or which direction it'll come from, a lot like falling through a barn loft at the Anderson place and busting this damn ankle of mine. Out of the blue. I wish I could be more help in holding my own and watching out for Paige and the munchkin."
Vic clapped him on the back. "Hang in there, man. Not much longer until you're in the air again."
And Bo would be out. His life would be back on track, and he would never see Paige or her kid again. Just like he wanted it. "I can bunk here, too, starting tomorrow."
Hey? Where the hell had that come from?
Duh. From a deep well of testosterone and protective urges that he didn't see any chance of ditching.
Vic shoved aside the stack of restored files and gave Bo his undivided attention. "Another generous offer for my sister."
Seth smirked, jingling change in the bottomless pockets of his cargo shorts. "Purely altruistic, I'm sure."
Bo knew when to keep his trap shut.
Vic blinked slowly. "Thanks, but we have friends we can call."
"I'm sure you do," Bo acknowledged without backing down. A key to savvy aviation involved making fast, smart decisions in a crisis, and not flinching from a set path.
Seth nudged a couple of stacks under his propped foot for higher elevation. "No friends with his military training, though, and I'm not particularly ferocious looking hobbling around."
"Thanks for helping him, Judas." Vic snagged Seth's fishing hat and swatted his shoulder.
"My pleasure." Seth snatched his cap back and folded it into one of his pockets.
A lengthy sigh of defeat ruffled prescription slips in front of the pissed-off vet. "Makes sense for you to sleep here rather than commute all the way out here every day and back at night." He pinned him with a piercing glare. "But you'll be staying in your own damn room."
"Of course."
"Alone." Vic rocked back on two chair legs with a casualness totally negated by the vein throbbing just below the brim of his John Deere cap.
"Dude, I'm here to help your sister, not hurt her. And she is an adult. You'll just have to trust her to know what's good for her."
"Your answer's not reassuring me, Rokowsky." Vic's vein throbbed faster along his temple.
Nothing he could say would reassure any overprotective brother. So he didn't bother spelling out that while he found Paige hot as hell, he intended to keep his hands to himself. He settled on spelling out a piece of the truth. "I'm not here for you. I'm here for her."
"For how long?" Vic shot back with unerring aim at Bo's own doubts.
"Long day." Paige arched the kink out of her back as she strode toward Bo's rental sedan parked under the boughs of the lone sprawling oak. The swelling wind twisted the dangling swing in a lazy figure eight dance.
Security lights blazed to create a halogen halo around the house, clinic and kennels. At least the animals would bark if anyone approached, small reassurance after her home had been violated.
Those lights also showcased well Bo in jeans and his concert T-shirt, leather jacket hooked on his finger over one shoulder. His eyes flickered over her chest, lingered for two hammering heartbeats, then jerked back up to her face.
He shrugged into his flight jacket. "Is Kirstie okay?"
Paige straightened, fast. She would work out the kinks later, maybe in about two weeks when this guy hopped on his plane for a return to South Carolina. She might wish, but she couldn't afford the temptation of more mind-blowing kisses or warm strong hugs from this man who carried so many memories of her past. And her daughter needed stability.
But a selfish part of her insisted she deserved comfort, even the two-week variety, except another part of her balked at that kind of relationship. Maybe she should start dating again. She couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life alone and, oh my God, celibate.
It had been a year since Kurt's arrest, nearly a year since his murder. She was a woman as well as a mother. Somebody like Chuck Anderson would be perfect, uncomplicated and she didn't want him.
She wanted this man. And, sheesh, she sure did have a history of wanting unwisely.
Paige strolled closer, stopping by the lonely tree, a safe two feet away from Bo beside his sedan rental. "She's asleep for now, just scared and trying not to show it. I can relate to that."
Memories of being held by him earlier in the office tormented her with the sweet gift of sharing her burdens. A person could get used to that, a person should have that, but she hadn't just made a simple mistake in judgment in her relationship with Kurt. She'd screwed up in mammoth proportions.
