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her granddaughter took her place. That seems to have been Mrs. McGuire’s intention all along.”
    The clouds instantly cleared from Ryan’s face. “Was the granddaughter hot?”
    Unbelievably hot. Molten lava hot. Kept-him-up-all-night hot.
    “Probably not your usual type,” came his eventual answer. For some reason, the thought of Ryan with Melissa didn’t sit right. Would she fall for the pretty face, as so many others had? And what difference did it make if she did? She clearly didn’t think much of him, especially after he’d lost it and insulted her whole profession.
    Then again, if she really hated him, would she have responded with such fire and eagerness at the end? He’d been all over her, and she hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, if Nelly hadn’t opened the door . . .
    He swallowed the rest of his Snapple to drown the memory.
    “I bet she was smokin’. You got that look in your eye.”
    “I have no look.”
    “Yeah you do. You haven’t looked like that since . . . you know.”
    “You know” was code for “Rebecca.”
    He chewed the turkey, which tasted like sandpaper. When Rebecca left, he’d realized the truth. He’d been born to command, born to save lives, risk his neck, guide his crew, school his rookies. None of that led to a happy personal life. It hadn’t helped his marriage to Rebecca, and why should it be different with any other woman?
    “Cap, I’m sorry,” Ryan broke in. “Didn’t mean to say the wrong thing.” Brody caught the alarmed look on the younger man’s face. He must be looking grim, as he always did when thoughts of Rebecca haunted him.
    “You didn’t. Don’t worry. Can you get those wire strippers out of there?” Ryan jumped to his feet. “Actually, never mind.” It was time to let go of the insanity. At least one part of it. “Hand me the Yellow Pages over in the corner.”
    Ryan grabbed the phone book that had been tossed on the doorstep a few days ago. “I know a guy. Wired my buddy’s office.”
    “Licensed?” asked Brody, scanning the listings under “electrician.”
    “No, but that’s why he’s so cheap . . .”
    But Brody stopped listening. A name in bold type caught his eye. Haskell McGuire, Electrician. Licensed and bonded. No ad, no goofy guy with a head shaped like a light bulb. But the name alone was enough to draw Brody. Could it possibly be the same family? A father, a cousin, a brother? Might as well call the man. One way or the other, he’d get an electrician out of it. And maybe another connection to the feisty, fascinating, irritating, sexy Melissa. Maybe she’d bring him lunch, maybe she’d sit on that bucket and toss her dark hair over her shoulder and—
    “Cap, there’s another part of the prize . . .”
    Brody looked up from the Yellow Pages, and Ryan blinked. “Geez, you look like you found Jesus in there.”
    “Praise the Lord. You better scram, Hoagie. I gotta make a call.”
    “But wait. You have to hear this, Cap. We have to make dinner for her at the station. For Nelly McGuire.”
    “Oh, hell.” He’d forgotten that part.
    “Don’t worry, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. There’s always time to do the right thing, you know.”
    Brody recognized one of the affirmations. “What right thing?”
    “I’m going to make up for blowing off the grandmother. I’ll be nice as pie to her, and to her granddaughter.”
    “You’re inviting her too?”
    “Yes, sir. You said she’s hot, right?”
    Brody could have kicked himself. “I think I said not your usual type.”
    “Doesn’t matter. They’re going to get the royal treatment—Hoagie-style.” And he was off.
    So much for that. If Ryan aimed his mojo on Melissa, Brody might as well forget her. He and Nelly would get to spend the evening watching the fireworks. Still, he needed a damn electrician. Brody dialed the number listed for Haskell McGuire.
    W hen Melissa got back to her cubicle, her private line was ringing. Is it Brody? How should she