Guardian of the Night. Debra Webb

another curse. Just what she needed…tender feelings for the guy. He was a class-A jerk. Yes, admittedly, it was too bad that his life pretty much sucked, but did he have to be mean-spirited to those who tried to help him?

      She stilled, the mist swirling around her like curling tentacles, but she scarcely noticed. Yes. He did have to be indifferent…condescending…and flat-out mean. It was the only way to prevent bonding. Becoming attached to anyone, male or female, could be costly. Noah Drake could not depend on another human being freely choosing his way of life. No matter how enamored a woman might become of him—and Blue could definitely see that happening—she would resent a nocturnal existence as soon as the novelty wore off.

      Oh, Noah Drake would definitely have no difficulty attracting the opposite sex. He was incredibly good-looking, well-built, and there was something about his eyes. Something that went well beyond the size, shape and color…something magnetic, hypnotic. Then there was that square, chiseled jaw and strong chin that always looked shadowed with his dark coloring. And that mouth was no common feature either. It was full, masterfully sculpted and undeniably sensual.

      She moistened her lips and released a long, slow breath. She would not be physically attracted to him. That was not only a major professional no-no, it was a personal disaster. Her career was her life…Noah Drake resented the very government she deeply respected.

      The adage “as different as night and day” precisely described the two of them in far more ways than one.

      Blue slipped onto the screened back porch and glanced one last time at the sun as it sank beneath the horizon, dragging the few remaining veins of gold and orange from the marbled ebony sky. Soon Noah Drake would rise to greet the night.

      Awareness quivered through her, but she squashed the sensation. This was business…nothing more.

      Stepping into the kitchen, she inhaled deeply. A sweet and tangy exotic scent tantalized her senses, making her mouth water. “Mercy, Lowell,” she almost moaned. “I hope that’s on tonight’s menu.”

      He glanced up from the stove. “It’s my own special Asian chicken recipe. I hope you’ll like it.”

      Blue moved closer to the stove and peered into the large wok. Red and green peppers, scallions, snow peas and even pineapple were sautèing in a dark liquid along with slender strips of chicken.

      “Mmm…looks wonderful.”

      Lowell winked. For an older guy he was a bit of a flirt. “It is, trust me.”

      Though she certainly didn’t want to encourage him, she couldn’t help but smile. Lowell Kline was incorrigible. She hitched a thumb towards the second floor. “Gotta shower, but I’ll be right back.”

      A frown furrowed across his brow. “Before you go,” he said hesitantly, “you should know that Chester phoned while you were out.”

      “Really?” She forced her brain to focus on the conversation rather than the delicious aroma of the concoction in the wok. “Did the Widow Paisley find her cat?” she suggested teasingly.

      A smile replaced Lowell’s frown. “Yes, but that’s not why Chester called. He ran into a couple of men, outlanders, at BullDog’s last night.”

      Blue’s interest piqued. “Did he give you a description or other pertinent details?”

      Lowell nodded. “He said the two were young, rather rakish-looking and were bragging about playing target practice with unsuspecting human targets.”

      Blue doubted rakish was in Chester’s vocabulary, but she got the idea. “He thinks they were the ones who shot at me yesterday?”

      Another succinct nod. “One of them said something about scaring a blonde and hoping to run across her again. Chester is certain he was referring to you. I told him not to worry—that Mr. Drake said you were a fighter.”

      She tried not to put too much stock in Drake’s comment. Instead she considered Chester’s report. The likelihood that the real threat to Noah Drake would hang out in a place like BullDog’s and brag about his exploits was about zero. Maybe the bullets she’d dodged yesterday were fired by a couple of cognitively delinquent punks, but it just didn’t feel right. Blue had been shot at enough times to know what real intent felt like.

      “Do you think you should call your friend Lucas Camp and have him send someone to check it out? He might even want to come himself.”

      Blue shook her head. “Not just yet. That’s really more a matter for the local authorities. Maybe Chester should report the incident to the sheriff.”

      Lowell turned the gas off beneath the wok and placed a lid over it to allow the contents to steam amid the fragrant sauce. Blue’s senses as well as her stomach lodged a protest at being denied the pleasure of the aroma.

      “Chester did say that he planned to inform the authorities,” Lowell went on. “But his real concern was for your and Mr. Drake’s safety since the hoodlums are still loitering about. The sheriff might not get around to looking into the problem for a day or two. Sometimes, here on the island, we’re forced to take care of things on our own.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Chester did say that he hopes to locate where the two are hanging out and pass that information along to the authorities as well.”

      Blue didn’t like the sound of that. “If Chester starts following those guys around, he might be the one in danger,” she said, automatically worrying about the old guy. Not only was he a good connection to the residents here that she didn’t want to lose, she genuinely liked him. Unlike Noah Drake, Blue formed attachments quickly. She hoped that wasn’t one character trait she’d come to regret…especially where he was concerned.

      Lowell set another pan atop the stove. Blue’s gaze followed his movements, wondering vaguely what delight he planned next.

      “Chester can take care of himself,” he assured her. “Don’t bother worrying about him. You shouldn’t be fooled by his laid-back manner, he’s as cagey as they come.”

      Blue shrugged. “It’s a habit with me. I grew up in a house with five brothers. I know how much trouble guys can get into.” When Lowell lifted a skeptical eyebrow, she adopted an immediate expression of contrition. “Present company excluded, of course.”