Terry McLaughlin - A Perfect Stranger

He clicked the save command and slumped in the chair to read through his draft. Jack Brogan, the star of most of his stories, was moving up in the world, and London would make a classy background for his latest exploits. This could be the start of an entire European series, a project that would require plenty of research. Writing books set in exotic locales could be an exhausting business, but if someone had to do it, it might as well be Nick Martelli.

His thoughts drifted again to the uptight teacher from California. A major mystery there, and his own sleuthing hadn’t yet revealed what it was about her—other than her looks and her attitude—that was striking sparks.

Story sparks, among other kinds. He was starting to believe his own theory about her being some kind of muse. And thinking about her the way he usually did—with his cranial blood supply taking a trip south—wasn’t the proper way to think about a muse.

Not that he was aware of proper behavior when it came to muses. But he’d bet seducing them wasn’t on the program.

Behind him, Joe groaned again, struggling toward complete consciousness. Nick stalked across the room and yanked the pillow out from under his brother’s head. “Rise and shine, Mr. Martelli. Breakfast in thirty minutes.”

Joe rolled with a yawn and swiped a hand over his morning stubble. “Maybe I’ll grow a beard this week.”

Joe’s wife would kill him if he came home scraggly, and she’d probably have Nick tortured as an accomplice. Connie Martelli was one scary lady.

He chucked the pillow at Joe’s head. “Over our dead bodies, and I mean that literally. Shave. Shower. Dress.”

Joe closed his eyes and groaned. “God, what a nag.”

“Just making sure you don’t get homesick,” Nick drawled. “And pick up your stuff before we leave. You’ll lose something if you don’t keep things picked up.”

“Yes, hon.”

Joe staggered into the bathroom, and a moment later Nick heard one of the sounds of his youth: his brother whistling tunelessly over the tap water.

He reached across the table to snag the tour itinerary. Today’s highlights: Stonehenge and Salisbury, followed by another free afternoon. Nick wondered what Joe had planned for his students after lunch. Most likely a pit stop to keep them going until tea time, with a few educational tidbits tucked haphazardly between the snacks.

Joe walked back into the room, rubbing a towel over his thinning hair. “How’s the research going? Is Jack Brogan going to tie up the loose ends in London, or is he going to chase the bad guys all over Europe?”

“Haven’t decided that yet.”

Joe upended his suitcase over his bed, dumping his clothes in a heap. “I’ll bet the girl this time has long orangey hair, big green eyes and legs like a ballerina’s.”

“Her eyes are blue.” Nick closed the laptop. “And what are you getting at?”

“Nothing. I’m just afraid I’m going to trip over your tongue every time Syd walks by.”

“Take it back.”

Joe pulled a wrinkled shirt over his head. “Or what?”

“Or I won’t stick your wallet back in your knapsack the next time it falls out.”

“Speaking of which…” Joe pawed through the clothing heap. “Have you seen my khaki shorts?”

Nick twisted in the chair, tugged Joe’s shorts from under a Tower of London souvenir bag and tossed them in his direction. “Are your students ready for Mr. Hairy Legs?”

“I’m not even a blip on the radar.” Joe stumbled into his shorts. “There are other students here, Nick. Fascinating others, of both sexes. From high schools in exotic places like Albuquerque and Tahoe. I’m surprised you’re still sitting next to me on the bus, what with all those pheromones in the air. Especially the California ones.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Nick sighed. “I get it. Connie’s on your back again. ‘Poor Nicky, all alone with his broken heart. Find him a woman or sleep on the sofa.’”

“It’s nothing like that.”

Nick stared at him.

“Okay, maybe a little.” Joe knelt and reached under his bed for his shoes. “You like her, don’t you?”

“Connie? I’m nuts about her. I’ll be sorry until the day I die that you saw her first.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Syd. Sydney Gordon. One of the best-looking single women I’ve seen in a long time. And not just your basic beautiful, but fresh, in that gotta-take-a-second-look kind of way.” He waved a shoe for emphasis. “Am I right?”

“So dogs don’t howl when she walks by,” Nick said. “So what?”

“She’s intelligent and creative, too.”

“Is there a point to this?” Nick glanced at his watch. “And are we going to get to it before they stop serving breakfast?”

“The point is, you’re thirty-six, and you haven’t been in a serious relationship for years.” Joe sat to pull on his shoes. “It’s time to think about your future, Nick. Being everyone’s favorite uncle is a dead-end job. You won’t be happy if you end up alone. It’s time to find someone you can take home to meet Mom.”

“And you think Sydney would meet Mom’s approval?”

“Definitely.” Joe smiled over his shoulder. “Which spells trouble for you.”

“No trouble. ’Cause I’m not looking.”

“Don’t lie to me, Nick. I’ll have to hurt you.”

“So I peeked a couple of times.” He shrugged. “Big deal.”

“I’m just looking out for you, little brother.” Joe finished dressing and stood. “And looking for a little entertainment while I’m at it. Thing is, even if you put your biggest moves on Syd, she wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

Nick snorted. “She already knows the time of day in every zone corresponding to the major world capitals. But I suppose this is your subtle way of saying I’ve lost my touch?”

“Which brings me to point number two,” said Joe. “You’ve lost your touch. You’ve forgotten how to court a woman. I’m not talking about tossing out some line—I’m talking about making an effort to—” He grunted as he pulled on the second shoe. “You know, do the whole romance thing.”

“There’s not a woman alive who could give me any kind of trouble for any length of time.” Nick winced. “Except Connie. She could make my life hell for all eternity.”

“I thought you were nuts about her.”

“That’s the official line. Off the record, she drives me crazy.”

“Connie might drive you crazy,” said Joe, “but a woman like Syd could bring you to your knees.”

Nick grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

“Begging for mercy.” Joe stood and clasped his hands to his chest. “‘Marry me, please, and put me out of my misery.’”

“It’ll never happen.”

“Okay, then.” Joe sucked in his gut and put on his serious face. “I dare you. I dare you to romance Sydney Gordon.”

“A dare?” Nick rolled his eyes. “Last time I looked, I had a driver’s license, selective service registration—you know, all that grown up stuff. I don’t do dares anymore.”

“I double dare you.”

Nick wasn’t sure he wanted to mess with the muse mojo. “I hear she has a boyfriend. Which would make taking that dare double dumb.”

“I heard it’s iffy,” said Joe.

“But long-term.”

“Which means the guy’s a little slow on the uptake.”

Nick shook his head. “I’m not making a move on someone else’s woman.”

“Admirable,” said Joe, “but stupid.”

“Why her?”

Joe didn’t answer. He just gave Nick The Look. The older brother look. The wiser, more wordly, I-want-what’s-best-for-you look.

“I’ve already asked for a date,” said Nick. “Twice. Been turned down. Twice.”