Desire By Starlight

Desire by Starlight

Bestselling romance author Jenna Hardy, aka Cassandra Hart, sprints through life from one appearance to the next, always on deadline, always in demand, always on the arm of a different beautiful woman. She has no personal life because her entire existence is public, and part of her appeal. She loves the tempo, the power, the thrill until the pace catches up to her and she collapses at a book signing. Her doctor orders rest, her editor wants a three book series yesterday, and her attorney informs her she has just inherited a farm in the backcountry of Vermont. Divine intervention or Fate’s little joke? The only thing that might possibly save her from dying of boredom during a summer of forced R&R is a dalliance with Gardner Davis, the local vet. Unfortunately, everything about Jenna’s high-profile lifestyle is exactly what Gard wants to leave far, far behind, that and a dark secret that haunts the new life she’s made.

Chapter One

Women loved Cassandra Hart—even her press releases said so. Jenna’s quick peek at the seemingly endless line of fans snaking up to the signing table at the Barnes & Noble in Hoboken, New Jersey, indicated quite a few men loved her too. True, the jostling, eager readers had come to see Cassandra Hart, New York Times bestselling romance author, and not Jenna Hardy, but that was just fine with her. She loved being Cassandra Hart, especially on nights like this one. Tonight she’d wowed a sell-out crowd, and the satisfaction was nearly as good as sex.

No matter how many successes she had, she still suffered a few pangs of anxiety before every book launch, but this event had been standing room only. She’d chosen a steamy scene from her newest romance featuring sexy federal agents and renegade mercenaries, and the applause when she’d finished had vibrated through her with the electrifying charge of an orgasm. Riding high, her pulse racing and her body tingling, she’d let the question-and-answer period go overtime and now her signing was running late too. Her publicist, agent, and good friend Alice Smith signaled vigorously from the back of the room and the message was unmistakable. Stop signing! Time to wrap this up!

Pretending not to see Alice’s semaphore-like arm motions, Jenna accepted the next book, already opened to the page she usually signed, from the store assistant. She smiled up at a youngish blonde in blue jeans and a tight long-sleeved T-shirt that announced EMTs Do It Better.

“Hello,” Jenna said, meeting the woman’s gleaming blue eyes. “Thank you so much for coming. How are you tonight?”

“I’m wonderful! I just love your books, Ms. Hart.” The blonde’s dazzling smile widened. “And I really love Cyn Reynolds. She could arrest me any day.”

“I’m with you,” Jenna said, laughing at the frequent comment about one of her recurring characters. “I’m so glad you could come tonight.”

Jenna loved talking with her readers. Writing was such a solitary experience, something she did alone hour after hour in a silent room, and she often wondered if it really mattered to anyone what she was doing. But hearing the excitement in this woman’s voice, she was reminded of one of the most important reasons that she wrote. For a few brief moments her words connected her to other human beings, and she was no longer alone. “To whom would you like me to sign this?”

“Oh, could you sign it to me—oh, I’m Sally—and could you say—Happy birthday, from Cassandra. And”—the blonde hesitated, blushing—“could I get my picture with you?”

“Of course.” Jenna rose, ignoring Alice’s frown and pointed look at her wristwatch. Readers like Sally made her life possible, so she took her time with every one, asking their name, writing a personal message in their book, thanking them for their support. She waited until Sally came around the table to stand beside her, then lightly clasped her waist and smiled as the store assistant, using Sally’s camera, took their picture. Then she sat down, took the next hardback passed to her, and greeted another reader.

A faint cloud of Obsession accompanied the firm press of a hand against her shoulder.

“You need to pull the plug on this,” Alice murmured in her ear. “You have an early flight in the morning, double bookings in the afternoon and evening, and you look completely exhausted. I told you that signing last night was a bad idea.”

“I’m all right.” Jenna pressed a hand to her midsection, hunger pangs reminding her she hadn’t eaten after rushing from the airport to the hotel, hurriedly changing, and grabbing a cab over to the bookstore. Her flight from Washington, DC, where she had given a reading at a small bookstore in Dupont Circle, had been delayed, and she’d barely gotten any sleep. She was still glad she’d squeezed in the extra event, despite Alice’s protests. She hadn’t sold very many books, but the audience members—largely gay and lesbian—were among her staunchest supporters. She frequently reminded Alice that a great deal of her success lay in being accessible to those who bought her books. Unlike many bestselling authors, she still did small independent bookstore events even though Alice nagged her to conserve her time and energy for the national tours. Feeling Alice’s glare on the back of her neck like an angry wasp, she tried to stretch out the cramps in her lower back without Alice noticing. “How many more in line?”

“More than you can handle.”

“Just a little while longer.” Jenna tuned out Alice’s long-suffering sigh and focused on an elderly gentleman in a three-piece suit who looked only moderately uncomfortable surrounded by the primarily female crowd. “Hi, so nice to see you.”

He held out her newest title, whose cover featured two camo-clad women in a tight clinch against a backdrop of strafer tracings. “I’d like to get this for my wife. Her name is Joan.”

“Wonderful,” Jenna said. “Shall I say it’s from you?”

He looked momentarily abashed, then smiled broadly. “Yes please. Could you say, ‘Love from Martin’—and then your name, of course.”

Jenna wrote the message and signed Cassandra Hart with her trademark flourish. “Here you are.”

As she handed the book back, she caught sight of the glossy promotional photograph on the back cover of a woman standing on a bridge high above the Hudson, chestnut hair stylishly windblown and wide-set green eyes just the tiniest bit provocative. Like always, she experienced a moment of confusion. Was that really her? Cassandra Hart looked confident, sexy, and a little bit sinful. Jenna had worked hard to create that image, to become that woman, and if she had to get by on a couple hours’ sleep and airport food a few months a year to ensure she remained that woman, she would. Gladly.

“I’m sorry,” the store manager announced to the remaining fans in a pleasant voice, “but we’re going to have to end our event for the evening. We will have signed copies of Cassandra’s newest book at the registers for those of you in line who would like to purchase one, but they will not be personalized. We’re so sorry, but Ms. Hart is finished signing for the night.”

Jenna knew better than to argue. If she did, Alice was likely to drag her bodily from the store. She pushed back from the table and was about to stand when a willowy redhead in a beige linen suit and open-collared emerald green shirt the exact color of her eyes stopped in front of the table and leaned down, one hand braced on the tabletop in an unexpectedly intimate pose.

“I’m sure you’ve had a very long day,” the redhead said, “and I won’t keep you. I just wanted to tell you that my fifteen-year-old niece thinks you are the most astonishing author on the planet. It means a lot that she can feel good about herself because of what you write. So—thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Jenna settled back into her chair and grabbed a book from the box the assistant was refilling. She opened it to the title page. “What’s your niece’s name?”

“Meg.”

The redhead’s voice was low and melodious and her emerald eyes so intense they might have been the actual gemstones.

“Have you read this one?” Jenna asked, her pen poised over the page.

“Not yet.”

The woman leaned closer, her expression so magnetic everyone else in the room faded to sepia. “I have a confession to make.”

“Really?” Jenna searched for a sign the redhead’s intent matched her seductive tone. Oh yes indeed, there was an invitation in that hot gaze, if she wanted to play. “And what deep dark secrets are you hiding?”

“I don’t really read romances. I prefer thrillers.”

“Somehow I don’t find that particularly surprising.” Jenna had the urge to lean away precisely because she wanted to move forward, deeper into the redhead’s space. She wasn’t used to being captivated by a woman. That was her role. In fact, her Number One Rule was to never go to bed with a woman she couldn’t control.

“I heard your reading tonight,” the woman went on, “and if the rest of the book is as good as the sex, I think I could be missing something.”

“Perhaps if you gave it a try,” Jenna said, “you might be converted.”

An arched brow winged upward. “Try what? The sex or the book?”

Jenna hesitated, considering. She was hungry, she was tired, and after three weeks on the road, she still had another four weeks ahead of her. She should grab a quick shower and a few hours’ sleep. But she loved the pace, she loved the excitement, and she loved the unexpected. This redhead was definitely unexpected, she was too charged to sleep, and she hadn’t had sex for months. She plucked a bookmark off the stack remaining on the table, turned it over, and wrote the name of her hotel along with her room number. She slid it into the book after writing on the title page: Dear Meg, Celebrate your life and all the wonderful things to come. Love, Cassandra Hart. Handing the closed book to the redhead, she said, “The evening’s activities are up to you. Keep the bookmark.”

“Oh, I’ve already made up my mind.”

“Don’t tell me. I like surprises.”

The woman laughed, pulled the bookmark free and slid it into her jacket pocket, and sauntered away. Watching her go, Jenna finally rose from the table and smiled at the thought of what other surprises the night might bring.

“You don’t have time for that.” Alice drew Jenna away from the table with one hand on her elbow. “It’s almost eleven and you need to be at the airport by six.”

Jenna regarded the woman to whom she attributed much of her success. At forty, Alice looked a decade younger. Her milk chocolate eyes and sharply contrasting silver-blond hair added to the allure of a sensuous smile. An inch or two shorter than Jenna’s five-eight, she was voluptuous where Jenna could barely boast curves. Many an editor and publisher had looked at Alice and seen a throwback to the pinup starlets of an earlier age. They underestimated her barracuda instincts when negotiating contracts, much to Jenna’s benefit. She and Alice were very close friends, but business always came first for Alice. Jenna didn’t mind. She felt the same.

“When have I ever been late for a flight?” Jenna draped her navy silk blazer over her arm. June had turned the corner into summer and she hadn’t needed to wear it over her white silk tee.

“I’m the one who makes your schedule, remember?” Alice spoke quietly so those nearby would not hear. “We can’t afford for you to burn out, especially not for something as trivial as a quickie—”

“If you were getting a little something a little more regularly,” Jenna teased, “you would appreciate the benefits of physical therapy.”

“Then I’ll schedule you a massage in Chicago.”

“Wonderful.” Jenna skirted around the table to put an end to the conversation. She glanced back over her shoulder and flashed Alice a grin. “Make sure you sign me up for the full body package.”

Jenna finally dragged herself into her hotel room just before midnight and immediately kicked off her low heels and shed the navy pants that matched her blazer. While dialing room service, she powered up her laptop and checked her e-mail. Her editor had sent the galleys for her next novel, the story of a returning soldier who fell in love with the widow of one of her fallen comrades, and she downloaded that while ordering shrimp cocktail and a salad.

“How soon can you bring that?” Forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for a shower. “That’s great. Thanks.”

She deposited her underwear into a laundry bag, folded her suit into her suitcase to deliver to the hotel dry cleaners as soon as she reached her next destination, and padded nude toward the bathroom. Her eyes stung with fatigue and the turned-down bed called to her invitingly as she passed, but she wanted to get to the galleys tonight. And she really should eat something. She’d noticed when getting dressed earlier that her waistband was loose and she was dropping weight she really couldn’t afford to do without. Always on the thin side, despite having what her stepmother Darlene called a trucker’s appetite, she had trouble maintaining her weight when her schedule was so hectic she often forgot meals. She could review the galleys while she ate—multitasking was her forte, after all. Besides, there was always the possibility she might have company if the bookmark message did its job.

Smiling at the memory of the sexy redhead from the bookstore, Jenna stepped under the warm water, tilted her head back, and let the spray wash away some of the weariness. Beneath the exhaustion, she was still soaring with the evening’s success. That charge kept her going, gave her more satisfaction than anything else she’d ever known, and she never wanted the high to end. The breakneck pace of her life, like a train hurtling forward, carried her far beyond the past she wanted to forget.

She’d discovered by accident when she was ten or eleven that the voices of the characters she created in her imagination drowned out the sounds of Darlene’s harsh criticism, muffled the loud curses outside her window of drunks wandering home through the trailer park in the small hours of the night, and muted the insidious none-too-subtle putdowns of the kids in school. Never had she dreamed then that her escape into those fictional worlds would someday provide her freedom from a life she abhorred.

Fifteen minutes later, clean and relatively refreshed, Jenna wrapped herself in the plush white robe offered by the hotel and sat down at the desk to answer e-mail while awaiting her late-night supper. Before she made it through her unread mail, the bell outside her suite chimed. A quick glance at the clock sent her heart racing. Too soon to be room service.

She opened the door to the length of the security chain. “Yes?”

“Ms. Hart?” a female voice inquired.

“Yes?” Jenna’s pulse kicked higher.

“I thought I should return this to you.” Her bookmark emerged through the three-inch opening, held between well-manicured, tapered fingers.

Heat flared in the pit of her stomach, and Jenna tilted her head to see out into the hall. The redhead smiled back.

“What’s your name?” Jenna asked.

“Brin MacIntyre.”

“I just ordered room service. Are you hungry?”

“Eternally.”

Laughing, Jenna closed the door, slid the security chain free, and opened it. “I thought you said you didn’t read romances?”

Again, the red-gold brow winged upward as Brin stepped inside. “I don’t follow.”

“I believe you’re quoting one of my books with that line.”

“Is it getting me anywhere?”

“Oh yes.”

Jenna slid the chain back on, wrapped her arms around Brin’s neck, and kissed her. The kiss started out languid and soft, just a slow exploration. Brin was a very good kisser. With a tug from Brin, the tie on Jenna’s robe came loose and warm hands clasped Jenna’s waist. Her breasts tightened and her nipples hardened. The arousal was automatic, pleasant, welcomed.

Leaning back from the kiss, Jenna assessed her partner. Brin’s eyes were glinting hotly, her mouth a sensuous curve. She looked as confident as her kiss suggested she was. Jenna wanted more of those hard kisses and demanding hands, just as soon as she was sure Brin agreed to her Number One Rule. She was in charge.

“I want to take you to bed,” Jenna said. “First I want that beautiful mouth of yours”—she brushed her thumb over Brin’s lower lip and moaned softly when Brin gently bit her—“on me until I come. Then I intend to make you come, more than once.”

“No complaint from me,” Brin murmured without hesitation.

“You should know, too, I’ll be leaving at five in the morning.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste any time.” Brin walked Jenna backwards to the open bed, gently eased the robe from Jenna’s shoulders, and guided her down. Holding Jenna’s gaze, Brin unbuckled her belt and pulled her shirt from her pants. She had just opened the last button, exposing small breasts beneath a pale silk bra, when the doorbell rang again.

“Damn, that’s room service,” Jenna moaned, already so wet, so ready for that first searing caress she hurt.

Brin smiled and crossed to the door. Without opening it, she said, “Leave it in the hall.”

“Very well,” a voice from outside responded.

Within seconds, Brin eased into bed, braced herself on her forearms, and settled her hips between Jenna’s thighs. The pressure against Jenna’s clitoris made her stomach tighten.

“God, you feel good,” Jenna whispered.

“I’m going to make you feel a whole lot better very, very soon.”

Gard Davis studied the corpse.

The elderly woman lay on her back beneath a handmade quilt in a handsomely crafted bed that Gard was willing to bet had been in this woman’s family for over a hundred years. Although her skin was tinged with the faint blue of death, she was still beautiful. Her thick white hair flowed softly around a delicately sculpted face that, despite the decades, remained poignantly elegant. Gard saw no evidence of struggle, pain, or anything amiss, but she went through the prescribed steps because the deceased, and her family, deserved her best. She felt for a pulse in the carotid and radial arteries, and found none. She placed her stethoscope on the chest and listened for breath sounds or a heartbeat, but the torso remained motionless and deeply silent. Straightening, she arranged the covers until only the woman’s face showed against the soft linen pillowslip.

“What do you think?” asked Rob Richards.

“I think Elizabeth Hardy was a very lucky woman.”

“Huh?” Rob’s broad, open face puckered with confusion as he surveyed the dead woman. He was reliable and loyal, and unfailingly literal.

“What is she, ninety-four? Ninety-five? She died in her sleep.” Gard shook her head. “She’s lived all her life on this farm. As near as I can tell, she loved it. I hope I die in my sleep in my own bed when I’m her age.”

Gard couldn’t imagine dying with the sense of peace Elizabeth Hardy seemed to have attained. She was already thirty-three and had spent most of the last decade rootless. She didn’t see happiness in her future, not after losing her family, her lover, her social status, and pretty much everything that had defined her—or what she’d thought had defined her. With an irritated shake of her head, she turned to the paperwork she needed to fill out.

“You can go ahead and get the gurney, Rob. We’ll take her over to Simpson’s funeral parlor.”

“Shouldn’t we call someone?”

“I know she doesn’t have any family around here, and I don’t want to leave the body in the house. It’s going to hit ninety tomorrow. We’ll let Mark Simpson do what needs to be done while we call the sheriff and have her track down the family, if there is any. Then I’ll call them.”

“Okay, Gard. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

“No rush,” Gard told her assistant. Elizabeth Hardy was in no hurry, and neither was she. She had farm calls to make in the morning, but one thing she had plenty of now was time.

Chapter Two

Jenna fumbled in the near dark on the bedside table for her jauntily jingling cell phone. She recognized the personalized ringtone. Alice. A garish rainbow collage, reflections from the neon signs and passing cars on the street below, shot through the open drapes and slashed across the ceiling. The first thin fingers of gold hinted at the coming dawn.

“It’s the middle of the night, Alice.” Jenna’s voice sounded scratchy and worn in the otherwise quiet room. They hadn’t slept, and her brain was hazy from the nonstop sex. When she wasn’t on the brink of orgasm, in the throes of orgasm, or breathlessly struggling to recover from an orgasm, she’d been busy repaying the favor. Brin was extraordinarily talented and Jenna did not want to be outdone. Satisfying her bedmates wasn’t so much a matter of pride as it was a matter of giving as good as she got, or better. She didn’t want to be beholden, not even in the bedroom.

“This is your wake-up call, sweet thing.”

“I’ve got fifteen more minutes.” Brin’s mouth teased between her legs and Jenna laced her fingers through the thick, damp hair at the back of Brin’s neck, tugging slightly to signal her to wait.

“I hope you got some sleep,” Alice said briskly. “The plane lands at eleven and we’ve got just enough time to collect our bags and stop at the hotel before the one p.m. Borders signing.”

“I know.” Jenna tried to shift away and Brin followed, ignoring her silent command. Brin continued with the maddening cycle of licking and sucking that had kept Jenna on the edge of coming for what felt like a century—driving her to the peak and then, just as she started to crest, easing the pressure until Jenna crashed back down again, whimpering and cursing while Brin laughed. Jenna’s thighs tightened and she started to climb faster.

“Did you fall back to sleep?” Alice asked.

“No. I’m here.” Jenna struggled to keep her voice even and calm but her toes were curling with the first whispers of release humming through her blood. So close now. So close.

“Jenna?” Alice said suspiciously. “Tell me you didn’t work all night.”

Jenna bit her lip and yanked on Brin’s hair. She didn’t care if it hurt—Brin knew she was torturing her, and she was not going to come with Alice Smith on the other end of the line. Brin finally relented and chuckled softly, her breath dancing over Jenna’s twitching clitoris. Jenna arched off the bed at the electric shock of pleasure. God she wanted to come.

Drawing in a breath, she said, “Alice Ann. Stop harassing me. I’ll see you in the lobby.” She disconnected and threw her cell phone onto the floor. “Oh my God. I was two seconds away from coming all over you with my agent listening.”

“Don’t wait any longer on my account,” Brin murmured and drew Jenna back into the warm haven of her mouth.

Jenna closed her eyes, her body on autopilot while she mentally reviewed what she needed to do before heading to the airport. She was prepared for Borders and she wasn’t reading until tonight at Wald—

“Oh!”

The sharp edge of orgasm penetrated her consciousness and pleasure swamped her synapses. The climax was raw, hard, blinding after the long delay, and she lost herself for a few seconds until she could refocus on what mattered. The galleys…she needed to proof them on the plane. She’d have just enough time.

At 5:15 a.m. Gard stored her emergency colic kit and med box in the back of her Ford F150, locked the cap down, and climbed behind the wheel. Bursts of pinks and purples flamed over the Green Mountains, and though she’d seen dawn break thousands of times before, she paused to watch. The pyrotechnic brilliance had eluded description by the finest poets and painters and songwriters for centuries, and as she sat absorbing the splendor, the tight place in the center of her chest eased a fraction. She knew the ache for what it was. A core of loneliness she’d learned to live with and could usually ignore. Still, simple pleasures like this helped assuage the distant pain that never left.

Frantic barking finally drew her gaze from the spectacle and across the hard-packed expanse of the paddock beside her two-story white Greek revival farmhouse to the open doors of a red wood barn three times the size of her house. Her yellow Lab raced toward the truck at breakneck speed, and she barely managed to lean across the front seat and shove the door open before the four-legged rocket propelled itself into the front seat.

“Beam,” Gard chided and reached over to close the door. “When have I ever left without you?”

Sunbeam graced her with a wide doggy smile before planting her paws on the armrest and sticking her head out the open window.

“Hold on.” Gard shifted into gear and headed down the drive to the rutted dirt road that bordered her thirty acres to Route 7, a two-lane blacktop road and the closest thing to a highway to be found in the county. Her farm backed up against the Green Mountain National Forest and her nearest neighbors were a mile away. At night she couldn’t see their lights or hear any sound other than coyotes howling, owls hooting, and the sonorous rumble of bullfrogs in the small pond out behind her house. A far cry from the never-ending bustle of Manhattan. She reached over and stroked Beam’s back. The solid, warm body under her palm and the quick splash of a wet tongue over her forearm banished the familiar melancholy.

She had been looking forward to a morning of routine calls until John McFarland had called at 4 a.m. to say one of his broodmares was colicking. She was headed there now and hoped the situation wasn’t so far advanced she’d need to operate. Anticipating an easy day, she’d told Rob to take the day off since they’d been up half the night seeing to Elizabeth Hardy. Rob’s stint in the Navy Medical Corps made him an excellent surgical assistant and she primarily used him on the afternoons when she performed surgeries in her clinic. He rarely went out on field calls with her unless she expected to need help with a seriously ill large animal. The owners usually provided ample assistance. Sometimes they wanted to provide more help than she actually needed, but she had learned very quickly upon setting up practice in the countryside that the best way to keep her clients happy was to let them give her advice on everything from the proper way to birth a calf to the appropriate treatment for founder. Once in a while they actually listened to her advice. John McFarland, fortunately, was a savvy farmer who knew when to ask for help.

Just as she was about to turn onto the long gravel drive to the farm, her cell phone rang.

“Davis,” she said.

“Gard, it’s—”

“Hi, Rina,” Gard said to the county sheriff.

“I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not we talk so often you know my voice.” Rina laughed.

Rina had a nice laugh, deep and mellow like aged scotch. Gard imagined Rina’s blue eyes and short wavy brown hair, her quick smile, her small tight body. Rina had been flirting in a friendly, test-the-waters kind of way for the last few months, but Gard hadn’t given her any openings to take it further. She liked Rina, and she wasn’t interested in complicating a good relationship for casual sex. Since even casual demanded more intimacy than she could do, that didn’t leave much. Which was one reason she was celibate. She didn’t want to think about the other reasons.

“Pretty early for a social call,” Gard said, chasing away the dark memories.

“Believe me, I really wish it were. You busy?”

“In the truck.”

“Damn, I forgot how early you start.” Rina’s voice dropped. “Although I rather like morning people.”

“I’m your woman, then.”

“So you keep promising.” When she next spoke, her tone was more serious. “I’ve got the information on Elizabeth Hardy’s next of kin. At least I’m pretty sure I do.”

“Hold on.” Gard kept a small clipboard with a pad of paper and an old-fashioned wooden pencil stuck to her dashboard with a suction cup for taking messages on the fly. Sliding the pencil from the clasp, she said, “Go ahead.”

“I tracked down a Frank Hardy who seems to be the grandson of Elizabeth Hardy’s cousin on her father’s side, once or twice removed. He’s dead, there’s no wife listed, but there is a daughter, Jenna. At least I think she’s his daughter. I got lost in the interdepartmental computer archives trying to track birth records and can’t verify that until the records room at the courthouse in Harrisburg opens at eight and I can talk to an actual person. Looks like they lived somewhere out near Lancaster, PA. You want her number or do you want to wait?”

Gard thought about it. Based on her comparison of Elizabeth Hardy’s body temperature to the ambient temperature inside the old farmhouse, which was a good ten degrees cooler than outside, she had deduced that the elderly woman had died approximately twenty-four hours before. She did not like to delay informing the next of kin for a protracted period of time. Somehow leaving the dead in limbo, unmourned, bothered her.

“Give it to me. I’ll call after I finish at McFarland’s. I’ll contact you after I talk to her and let you know if she’s the right person.”

Rina rattled off a number and Gard scratched it down.

“Will there be an autopsy?” Rina asked.

“Not unless the family insists. I didn’t find anything suspicious about her death.”

“Okay then. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call the courthouse and keep chasing the records.”

“Thanks.” Gard clipped the pen back on the dash. “Sorry to drag you out of bed so early for this.”

“You can make it up to me with breakfast,” Rina said.

Gard hesitated. Nothing wrong with having breakfast with a woman she considered a friend and colleague. Rina was smart enough not to read more into it. “After I get things settled at McFarland’s, I’ll make that call to Jenna—what’s her last name?”

After a few seconds of silence, Rina said, “Looks to be Hardy. Either she’s not married or she kept her own name. Must run in the family. Elizabeth Hardy was married about fifty years ago but resumed her maiden name when her husband died.”

“After I talk to her, I’ll call you and we’ll see where things stand with breakfast. I’m already behind and I haven’t started yet.”

“Fair enough. But I expect a rain check at the very least.”

“You’ve got it, and thanks again.”

“No problem,” Rina said. “I appreciate you doing the hard work.”

“Comes with the fancy title. Talk to you later.” Gard could have passed off notification of next of kin to the sheriff, but she was the county corner and she would do what needed to be done.

Jenna stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby at exactly the appointed time of 5:30 a.m. and winced when a din of voices hammered at the headache bequeathed by her night without sleep. A bellman in a brass-buttoned navy jacket emerged from the jostling group of men in business suits congregated in front of the reception counter and hurried toward her.

“May I get your luggage, ma’am?” he asked.

“Thank you.” She gratefully relinquished her bags, scanned the crowd, and spied Alice at the registration desk, undoubtedly taking care of their bill. In her blood-red fitted jacket, tailored skirt, and heels, Alice stood out from the men in regulation blue and gray like an exotic bird among pigeons. Even after ten years of friendship, she still got a jolt of pleasure when she saw her. Alice was beautiful—beautiful and indispensible.

Even though she was still annoyed by Alice’s ill-timed phone call, she had to admit she was lucky to have someone who took care of all the details. Hell, Alice not only managed her career, she managed her life. All Jenna needed to do was concentrate on her writing and the personal appearances Alice scheduled. The only area where Alice didn’t take care of her needs was in the bedroom. Had things been just a little different, she might have done that as well.

Jenna studied Alice from across the lobby as she waited for the bellman to load her bags into the limo Alice had arranged to take them to the airport. Alice was everything she found appealing in a woman—aggressive, competent, confident. When she’d pitched her first novel to Alice at a book fair almost ten years earlier, she’d been young, unagented, and naïve. She’d felt a spark of attraction, of connection, the moment she’d sat down across from the older, sophisticated woman, and she’d known from the glint of interest in Alice’s eyes that Alice felt the pull too. But three minutes into Jenna’s pitch, Alice had said, “You’ve got a winner and I can sell it for you,” and that was the end of anything sexual between them.

For Alice, business trumped lust and, Jenna suspected, possibly even love. She wasn’t certain about that, because she’d never seen Alice in a serious relationship. Alice never lacked for female companionship, but like Jenna, she never dated anyone exclusively and rarely for very long. They were similar that way, which was probably why they got along so well. Most of the time.

Watching frown lines form between Alice’s eyebrows as she crossed the lobby to her, Jenna did not think this morning was going to be one of their more amicable moments.

“Jesus,” Alice said in a low voice, “you look like hell.”

Jenna knew that wasn’t true. She looked fine unless someone looked closely. Under careful scrutiny, the light makeup she’d applied would not completely cover the circles beneath her eyes or disguise the gaunt hollows in her cheeks.

“Don’t start,” Jenna said. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

“I know you didn’t get any sleep, damn it. You at least have to eat.” Alice glanced at her watch. “We’ll get breakfast at the airport. I’d rather clear security—”

“Great,” Jenna said quickly, because she really wasn’t hungry. Exhaustion tended to blunt her other senses. At least all of them except the senses Brin MacIntyre had taken care of quite thoroughly the night before. She wondered how long she could survive on adrenaline and endorphins. She smiled to herself. If she managed to find a Brin MacIntyre in every city on her tour, she just might make it after all.

“What’s so funny?” Alice held the heavy glass door open for Jenna to pass.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about the rest of the tour.”

“It’s going really well, you know,” Alice said as they waited under the canopy while the limo driver and the doorman loaded Alice’s luggage into the trunk of the spacious Town Car. “There’s been a lot of buzz after every event and the sales numbers look excellent. This book is going to get you a Golden Quill.”

Jenna snorted. The prestigious award was a coveted prize for any romance writer, but despite her growing popularity, she wasn’t a contender for that award yet. At the pace she was going, in five years, she would be. “That would be great, but I’ll be happy just to see the book do well.”

“I had a long conversation last night with Edith Reynolds,” Alice said, referring to a well-known New York editor. “She agrees with me—you’re ready to break out and bring a crossover audience with you. She’s interested in small-town contemporaries with a little heat, and you’re perfect for that. She wants to bring out three in one season.”

“Three? In what…the next year?”

“You’ve handled that many before,” Alice pointed out.

“Sure, but not when I had two others already scheduled.” Jenna shook her head. “If I’m going to start a new series, you know it has to come out strong. I can’t take the chance of being rushed.”

“We can’t say no to this. If I have to, I’ll get you an extension on one of the others.” Alice made a soothing noise and rested her palm low on Jenna’s back, guiding her into the rear of the car. “I have faith in you, sweetheart.”

Jenna’s headache went seismic. Opportunities like this didn’t come along every day. She wrote faster than almost anyone working in her genre, and she wanted to stay out ahead. She had to stay out ahead. Talented new authors cropped up every day. “You know I’ll do what needs to be done. But damn it, Alice—it better be iron-clad.”

“You know it will be.”

Jenna gazed out the window of the limo on the way to the airport, too tired to carry on a pointless conversation. Alice knew what she was doing. For some reason, Jenna’s stomach objected to the stop-and-go motion of the limo in the crowded airport traffic and she struggled to ignore the rising nausea. By the time the vehicle pulled to a stop in front of American Airlines, she feared she was seriously in danger of vomiting. She brushed the back of her hand over her forehead and realized she was sweating.

“Are you all right?” Alice asked.

“Yes. I guess I probably do need some breakfast.” Jenna remembered the room service cart that she’d never brought into her room. When had her last meal been? Lunch in DC the day before, or had it been breakfast?

Cool fingers cradled her jaw and Alice’s worried eyes swam into view.

“Sweetheart, you really don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” Jenna said, a little breathless. Outside the limo, a redcap was efficiently stacking their luggage onto a cart. “Let’s get the checkin taken care of. Some coffee and a bagel will fix me right up.”

“All right. But tonight you’re getting a solid eight hours if I have to tuck you in myself.”

“Promise.” Embarrassed by Alice’s concern, Jenna quickly pushed across the seat and followed Alice out. The instant she stood, a wave of dizziness cut her legs out from under her and she collapsed.

Chapter Three

“Has she been rolling?” Gard leaned on the stall gate, observing the bay mare. Her neck glistened with sweat and she shifted restlessly, intermittently pawing the ground with her front hooves. Despite being agitated, she was also listless. Her abdomen was not grossly distended, but she definitely displayed signs of intestinal colic. While not often fatal, the disease was still the number one natural killer of horses and could go from a medical problem to a surgical emergency within hours. By then it was often too late.

“Nope—she looked like she wanted to but I walked her a bit and she calmed down some.” John McFarland was about Gard’s height—five-ten or so, and had probably once had the same coal black hair as she did. His was still thick, but gray now, and where her eyes were charcoal verging on midnight, his were light blue. He resembled most farmers Gard knew—weather-lined skin putting his age anywhere between forty and sixty, clear direct gaze, work-roughened hands. His tone was typically laconic, but his concern was evident in the furrows across his brow and the tight line of his mouth. A fifth-generation farmer, he knew his way around all the common ailments likely to affect his stock, but Gard went through the list of questions that needed to be asked so she didn’t overlook anything.

“When did you first notice she wasn’t right?”

“Right before I called you. She was fine last night. Can’t be more than a few hours, whatever’s going on.”

“Teeth okay? No problems with worms?”

He shook his head.

“Change in her feed?”

Again, a negative jerk of the head.

“How old is the foal now?” Gard asked. “Two months?”

“Just about that,” McFarland said.

Gard hadn’t attended the foaling, which was normal for uncomplicated deliveries. A seasoned farmer could handle normal births and even some complicated ones without veterinarian assistance. Sometimes she wasn’t called in until situations had turned desperate, but that was the job. She hadn’t grown up among the independent, self-sufficient people she now counted as her friends and neighbors, but when she’d moved into their midst, she’d instinctively recognized that here, unlike the circles she was used to, wealth, power, and position did not earn respect. Only honesty and competence did, and she worked hard to deserve it. “Nothing unusual with the birth?”

“This one was her second, and easy. Can’t say as I’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary with her.”

“Hold her head so I can get a listen.”

They eased carefully into the stall so as not to startle her, and while John held the lead shank, Gard listened to her abdomen. “Pretty quiet. Heart rate’s good, though. Let’s get a tube down and empty her stomach.”

Gard opened her kit and pulled out a thick coil of rubber tubing to pass through the mare’s nose into her stomach as well as a long plastic sleeve for the rectal exam. When the intestines failed to function because of mechanical obstruction or surrounding inflammation, gas and fluid built up in the stomach. If it wasn’t evacuated, the stomach could rupture, which always led to death.

“Ready?”

McFarland nodded, gripping the rope attached to the halter close to the side of the mare’s head.

Gard slid the lubricated nasogastric tube into the horse’s nostril and gently advanced it until bilious fluid and air came rushing out. She nudged a bucket over with her foot to catch the drainage. “Not a whole lot.”

McFarland grunted. The relatively small volume of accumulated fluid in the stomach indicated that whatever was wrong had not progressed very far, which was an excellent sign. Once the evacuation was complete, Gard removed the tube and went to work at the other end of the mare. After she stripped down to her T-shirt, she slipped a long plastic glove over her right arm to well above her elbow. She squeezed some lubricant into her palm and carefully eased her hand into the horse’s rectum. She went slowly, knowing the mare was in pain. She didn’t want to get kicked and she didn’t want to risk damaging the fragile colon. When she was nearly at the extent of her reach, she encountered a sizable amount of manure and carefully loosened the mass, extracting as much as she could. Inverting the glove and tying it off, she set the specimen next to her kit to examine in the lab for parasites or unusual foreign materials.

“I don’t feel anything twisted. Might be she’s just impacted,” Gard said. “There’s quite a lot up there. I’ll put some water with a little mineral oil down the tube and see if that doesn’t loosen her up. That and some Banamine for the pain may do it.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her the next couple of hours,” McFarland said.

“Call me if she gets worse,” Gard said after she administered the medications.

“Thanks, Doc.”

Gard gathered up her equipment and hauled the tackle boxes back out to her truck. After storing them away, she climbed into the cab, where Beam greeted her as if she’d been gone for a week. She pulled out a billing form from a plastic file box she kept on the floor on the passenger side and quickly filled in the appropriate spaces so her office manager could send the bill. Then she fished around in the glove box for her cell phone and checked the number Rina Gold had given her.

Time to call Jenna Hardy.

Jenna came to amidst a cacophony of voices that were way too loud, a glaring white light that was way too bright, and a murderous headache that made her want to vomit. With a moan, she draped her forearm over her eyes.

“Jenna?” Alice asked. “Sweetheart, are you awake?”

“God, I wish I weren’t. What the hell happened?”

“You…fainted.”

Jenna lifted her arm enough to open her eyes and peered up at Alice. “Fainted? I never faint. Are you sure?”

“Believe me, I’m very sure. You scared the living hell out of me.”

“Where am I?”

“At the first aid station at the airport.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Just a few minutes. The ambulance is on its way.”

Jenna pushed herself up on her elbows, suddenly much more awake. “Ambulance? What for? I’m fine.” She stared around the barren cubicle. A single molded plastic chair, a two-drawer metal cabinet with a steel tray of wooden tongue depressors and a box of latex gloves on top, and a wall-mounted blood pressure cuff were the only furnishings. She was on a narrow stretcher with a thin sheet covering her to the waist. Thankfully, she still had all her clothes on. “Where’s my briefcase? My computer’s in it. The galleys—”

Alice pointed to the floor. “I have your things right here.”

Jenna sighed. “I backed up my latest chapter on a jump drive but I didn’t send it off-site yet. If I lost that—”

“Don’t worry about any of that.” Alice gripped Jenna’s hand. “Lie back down. Seriously, Jenna. You went down hard and you need to rest.”

“What time is it? We need to get through security.” Jenna impatiently threw off the sheet and swung her legs over the side of stretcher. Immediately, her head swirled, her stomach somersaulted, and she scrunched her eyes closed to stop the merry-go-round. “God, I must have a migraine. I’ve never had one before. I will never badmouth people who say they get migraines ever, ever again.”

Alice circled Jenna’s shoulders. “We don’t know what’s going on right now. But you need to lie back down. I’ve canceled our flight.”

“You what?” Jenna gaped. “Alice! I’ve got a signing scheduled this afternoon and a two-hour event tonight. We’ll never make it if we don’t take this flight.”

Alice braced both hands on her hips, her expression one Jenna couldn’t decipher, and she’d seen Alice in every situation imaginable. “I’ve canceled the rest of the tour.”

Jenna gripped the edge of the metal stretcher, panic making her limbs weak. “What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t had a vacation in two years. You’ve been pushing—” Alice looked away, her voice tight. “I’ve been pushing you at an inhuman pace for the last six months. You need to slow down. You need to take a break.”

“I can’t take a break! I’ve got deadlines. I need to tour. I’ve got a new book to promote—”

“Your new book is going to do fine without you schlepping around the country touting it at bookstores. That’s what happens when you’re a bestseller. Your name sells your books.”

“I’m not there yet,” Jenna said, alarm flooding her chest. She couldn’t go back. She’d never go back. Her writing was her ticket to the life she wanted, the life she needed. “Alice—”

“It’s done, Jenna,” Alice said. “The tour is off.”

Jenna’s stomach lurched, letting her know in no uncertain terms if she didn’t lie back down, there would be nasty repercussions. Reluctantly, she settled back and covered herself with the sheet. “What did you tell them?”

“That you had an unexpected change in an upcoming deadline and that you’re terribly sorry to disappoint any of your readers, but you thought they’d be happier if you were writing your next book so they could get it on time.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me.” Alice stroked Jenna’s hair. “Let’s just take care of you. You need a thorough physical and a vacation.”

“One step at a time. I’ll get checked out, if that will make you happy.” They could argue over what came after that later, but Jenna was certain of one thing. She wasn’t taking a break. “Then we can decide what I’m going to do next.”

Alice looked like she was about to protest, but then a ringing cell phone interrupted her. She glanced down at her waist and then at Jenna’s briefcase. “It’s yours. You want me to get it?”

“No,” Jenna said, holding out her hand. “I can take it.”

The call had to be business, and business was exactly what she needed.

“Hello?” Jenna said.

“Ms. Hardy, this is Dr. Davis. I’m—”

“That was certainly fast,” Jenna said, unable to squelch her irritation. She did not want to deal with any more of this until she could deal on her own terms, not lying flat on her back with a pounding head and a queasy stomach. “I don’t have my calendar right at hand, but—”

“I’m sorry?” The woman on the other end of the line had a resonant, alto voice. She also sounded confused and slightly annoyed.

“Really, I’m sure my agent told you we’re still at the airport. I’ll make an appointment—”

“I’m afraid you might be confused about the reason for my call, Ms. Hardy.”

Jenna could see Alice frowning and she held the phone away from her mouth and whispered, “Did you call a doctor’s office to set up an appointment for me? Give them my number?”

“No,” Alice said. “I’m fast, but I’m not that fast. Besides, you’re going to see my doctor. I’ll take care of making the arrangements. Who is that?”

“I have no idea.” Jenna stared at the phone. “Who is this?”

“As I said a moment ago,” the smoky-smooth voice responded, the slight edge having blossomed into unmistakable irritation, “my name is Gardner Davis—”

“You said you were a doctor?”

“Yes, I’m—” She sighed, paused, and finally said, “I’m sorry. I’m sure this call has come out of nowhere and I’m not explaining the situation very well. I’m calling from Little Falls, Vermont. I’m the county coroner. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but we believe that a distant relative of yours has died and you’re the next of kin.”

“Well, you’ve made a mistake,” Jenna snapped. “I don’t know anyone in Vermont. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever even been to Vermont.”

A dry chuckle came down the line. “From what we’ve been able to trace through a records search, Elizabeth Hardy would have been a very distant relative. She was in her nineties. We’re not a hundred percent certain, which is why I have a few questions, bu—”

“What did you say your name was?”

“Gardner Davis.”

“As I said, Dr. Davis, you’re mistaken.” Jenna hadn’t talked to Darlene since she’d left home eleven years ago, a few months before her eighteenth birthday. She thought there might be a half brother or sister somewhere from the father she’d never known, but she’d never met them and didn’t care to. That life was far behind her, a different existence—before Cassandra. Before everything that mattered. She didn’t have any family, she didn’t want any family, and she didn’t have time for this now. “I’m afraid I have to go.”

“If you could just give me a moment,” Davis said.

“This is pointless. I know I don’t have any relatives in Vermont.”

“Is your father’s name Frank?”

Jenna shivered violently, her skin instantly clammy and her heart racing.

“Jenna?” Alice said. “You just went white as a sheet. What is it? Let me take this call.”

Alice held out her hand for the phone, but Jenna shook her head. She swallowed but her throat was so dry it hurt. “Yes, but that’s an awfully common name. I told you, I don’t know anyone in Vermont.”

“What about Lancaster, PA?” Davis asked quietly.

Jenna closed her eyes. “Not anymore.”

“We believe that Elizabeth Hardy is related to the Frank Hardy who lived in the Lancaster, Pennsylvania area, with a daughter named Jenna. Is that you?”

No. No, it isn’t me. Not anymore. I’m not her. Jenna had trouble catching her breath.

“Ms. Hardy?”

Jenna’s stomach finally won the battle over her willpower. Dropping the phone onto the bed, she clamped her hand over her mouth and looked desperately at Alice.

“Hold on, sweetheart.” Alice yanked open one of the drawers in the metal cabinet. She pulled out a plastic washbasin just in time for Jenna to empty the sparse contents of her stomach into it.

Gard pressed her phone against her ear, straining to make out the distant sounds. The entire call had been disjointed, as if she and the woman on the other end weren’t really speaking on the same frequency. She thought she detected someone moaning.

“Hello? Ms. Hardy? Hello?”

She stared at the screen—the readout informed her the connection had been lost. She pushed redial, got voicemail. Damn it, she’d handled that all wrong. She punched in Rina’s number, replaying the strange conversation with Jenna Hardy. The woman’s strained voice and stubborn denials left her feeling unsettled and uneasy.

“Rina, it’s Gard. I didn’t have much luck with the Jenna Hardy whose number you gave me. She swears she doesn’t have any relatives up here.”

“Well,” Rina said, “none she knows of maybe. But she’s the right woman. I’ve got a long paper trail to be certain of it. Besides that, I woke Sherm Potter up. Since he’s the only attorney in Little Falls, I figured he’d have the will.”

“Did he?”

“Yep. And Jenna Hardy is the only heir. The farm and everything else is hers.”

Gard sighed. “I’ll call her back.”

“Problem?”

“Not exactly. She wasn’t receptive to the idea of having a relative up here, though.”

“A lot of people don’t want to get involved, especially with a deceased who’s essentially a stranger.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Gard said, but what she’d heard in Jenna Hardy’s voice hadn’t been indifference. It had sounded a lot like fear.

Chapter Four

“Who was that on the phone earlier?” Alice asked.

“No one,” Jenna said without opening her eyes. Her stomach had finally settled, just in time for a short ambulance ride from the airport to Jamaica Plains Hospital. Now, at a little before ten in the morning, they were waiting for an emergency room physician to check her over. “Just a case of mistaken identity.”

“That was a pretty long conversation for a wrong number.” Alice sounded suspicious.

“It was nothing. Believe me. How long do you think this is going to take?”

“We’ve only been here fifteen minutes.”

“This day feels like it’s already been a year long.” Jenna risked cracking her lids a fraction, and when the glaring overhead fluorescents didn’t ratchet up the awful pounding behind her eyes, she kept them open. “It would be simpler for me just to see a doctor sometime this week. This is a waste of everyone’s time.”

“Let’s not take any chances. Maybe this is just a migraine, but you’ve never had them before. We don’t want to overlook anything serious.”

“All right. Fine.” Jenna resigned herself to a few more hours of misery. Alice was trying to sound casual, but she was wearing the speckles off the dingy gray tiles with her constant pacing. Jenna had never seen her display anything other than cool control and, occasionally, razor-sharp anger directed at some hapless individual who had dropped whatever ball Alice wanted carried. She must really be worried, and that realization stirred a wave of tenderness that had Jenna grabbing Alice’s hand as she passed. “Hey, I’m okay. Sit down. Stop fretting.”

“I’m not—” Alice grinned when Jenna raised an eyebrow. With a sigh, she leaned down to kiss Jenna’s cheek. “I just can’t have anything happen to you, now can I?”

“Nothing will. Sit. We’ll be out of here soon.”

As it turned out, an hour passed before a pleasant Indian emergency room physician assured Jenna she did indeed have a severe migraine, brought on most likely by stress and malnutrition.

“Malnutrition?” Jenna almost laughed. “That’s absurd.”

The physician smiled softly. “I’m afraid you’re quite anemic and your serum protein level is below normal limits too. Both results indicate serious iron deficiency, an inadequate diet, and in all likelihood, a depressed immune system. The migraine might very well be the first symptom of a more serious problem.”

“What do we need to do?” Alice’s voice quavered and she looked as if she might faint next.

“I’m prescribing the usual vitamins and iron supplements, regular exercise, plenty of rest, a balanced diet, and”—the doctor looked pointedly at Jenna—“a reduced work schedule for a few months.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jenna exclaimed. “My work is not taxing. I’m a writer. I spend most of my days at a desk.”

“Do you think that exerting mental energy hour after hour is not draining? That the pressure of finding and tapping your creative resources does not produce stress and anxiety?” the physician asked gently.

Jenna felt trapped. By the doctor’s logic, by her rebelling body, by the dread in Alice’s eyes. She wanted out of the small sterile cubicle. She wanted to escape from the too-critical gaze of the physician and the anxious attention of her oldest friend. She didn’t want to be helpless. She was not this woman losing control of her own life—she was Cassandra Hart. Capable, confident, successful. Always one step ahead, always on top.

Jenna sat up. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Dr. Singh. May I go now?”

“Of course. The nurses will give you an instruction sheet when you sign out. Please consider the things I’ve told you, and have a good day.”

As Jenna slipped into her pants and buttoned her shirt, she sent Alice, whose worry was like a third person in the room, an exasperated glance. “Stop. I told you, I’m fine.”

“It didn’t sound that way to me,” Alice said. “We’re going to need to take a hard look at your schedule and make some adjustments.”

“We’re going to do no such thing. My schedule is fine. I’m fine.”

“You heard what the doctor said. Today was a warning,” Alice said. “If you want to stay on top of the game, then you’re going to need to change a few things. You do want to hold on to your bestselling rank, don’t you?”

“That’s blackmail and you know it.” Jenna grabbed her briefcase. Out, she just needed to get out of the hospital. Away from Alice’s too-sharp gaze and well-meaning concern. She wasn’t about to change her routine, risk her career—risk her life, for a damn headache. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to play hardball,” Alice said with surprising gentleness, “but if that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes.”

“We’ll talk about this later.” Just as Jenna jerked open the curtain enclosing the cubicle, her phone rang for the fourth time in the last hour. She’d ignored it each time previously. This time, she yanked it out of her briefcase and checked the readout. The same 802 area code number came up again. She pressed the accept icon and said tersely, “This is Cassandra Hart.”

After a moment’s silence, the husky alto voice she remembered from earlier that morning said, “I’m trying to reach Jenna Hardy. This is Dr. Gardner Davis.”

“Yes, Dr. Davis, I know. And my answer is still the same as it was—”

“Ms. Hardy?” Gard asked.

“Yes.”

“Our county sheriff—Sheriff Gold—has traced a number of records—birth, marriage, death certificates, that sort of thing—and they pretty clearly indicate that you are indeed Elizabeth Hardy’s direct heir. You’re named in her will, Ms. Hardy.”

“I don’t really see how that’s possible, but I’ll have my attorney contact—who should he contact? You? The sheriff?”

“Sheriff Gold would probably be the best one to help straighten out the legalities,” Gard said. “I know this is sudden, but we’ll need some instructions on how to take care of Ms. Hardy’s remains. There’s one funeral home in town that I can recommend.”

“This is insane,” Jenna muttered. How could she possibly make decisions about someone she didn’t even know? “You’re satisfied with their services?”

“Yes. Completely.”

“Fine. Then that place would be fine. What about in the will? Has she left any final instructions?”

“I don’t know. Usually the family has that information—”

“Well, that’s obviously not the case this time.” Jenna closed her eyes but the shards of glass spearing each eyeball kept right on stabbing. God, she just wanted a dark quiet room and no one asking her for anything. Solitude. Please, God, soon. “I’ll let my attorney know he’ll need to look into that. Give me the sheriff’s number.”

“All right,” Gard said, her tone stiff. “It’s—”

“Wait a minute.” Jenna really didn’t want to deal with any of this. Not now. Not ever. She half opened her eyes and dug around in her briefcase, finally locating a small pad of paper and a pen. “Go ahead,” she said, and wrote down the number. “If that’s all, I have other things to attend to.”

“I’m sure you do. Good-bye, then.”

“Son of a bitch…” Jenna pressed the silent phone to her ear. “I think she hung up on me.”

Gard leaned a hip against the side of her truck, berating herself for taking Jenna Hardy’s, or Cassandra Hart’s, or whatever her name was, cold indifference personally. She should know better than to lose her temper, but the woman’s perfunctory, dismissive manner had hit every one of her sore points. She knew this kind of woman—the one for whom simple human niceties didn’t even register on her radar. Jenna Hardy was either too busy being successful or too used to the insulation provided by her wealth and power to care about how her actions affected others. All the same, Hardy was a bereaved relative and after all this time, Gard should be immune to people lashing out at whoever happened to be handy. Even the people who didn’t deserve it.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Gard muttered. She’d let Jenna Hardy get to her because she reminded her of Susannah. And her mother. And her sister-in-law. All the women in her life who had cared more for their social status, their financial security, and public opinion than things like love and trust and forgiveness. She’d thought she was past all that, that she couldn’t be hurt any longer by disdain and contempt, but one—no, two conversations with Jenna Hardy had catapulted her a dozen years into the past. How was that possible? She’d moved three hundred miles away, cut all her ties with a family that had made it clear she was no longer a part of it, and rebuilt a life based solely on what she did day in and day out as she made her way from farm to farm. No one up here knew her family, knew her history—or her shame. But in a few brief moments, this stranger had managed to remind her of all of it.

She hoped she never had to talk to Jenna Hardy again.

Jenna awoke from an uneasy sleep in the late afternoon. She’d opened the windows in her high-rise apartment when she’d finally arrived home after convincing Alice she did not need company. Now a thick blanket of hot, humid air weighed on her chest, and for a few seconds, she was back in the tiny airless bedroom in the sweltering trailer. Unable to catch her breath, her mind filling with crushing dread, she gripped the sheets and forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly.

I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m home.

Eventually, the tightness in her chest receded. Panic attack. She’d never forget the last one. She’d been seventeen and had awakened in the eight-by-ten room at the far end of the trailer to the labored grunts of Darlene and her latest boyfriend having sex in the room next to hers. She hadn’t wanted to listen, but the walls were thin and Darlene wasn’t trying to be quiet.

Jenna wasn’t supposed to have been home. She’d told Darlene she was staying over at Betty Sue’s house, but she’d come home early, bored with the endless conversation about boys and babies. She’d known since she was fourteen she wasn’t going there. Not with the boys, for sure. She’d fallen asleep reading and the groans and dull thud of the platform bed striking the wall woke her. She’d recognized the sounds instantly, she’d heard them all her life. She’d rolled over, tuning them out, and then she’d heard her name.

“You think I don’t know the real reason why you been coming around,” Darlene said. “I’ve seen you looking at her. You want something young and fresh, and you think you know just where to find it.”

Jenna had shivered, feeling trapped. The only way out was past Darlene’s room, and every footstep in the single-wide was audible. They’d know she was home, that she’d been listening.

“I ain’t been giving you no cause to accuse me of that sort of thing,” Floyd said.

Darlene laughed. “I got eyes. That’s all the reason I need.”

“You don’t sound all that mad, just the same.”

Floyd had a playful note in his voice that made Jenna’s skin clammy.

“Could be I’m not,” Darlene said.

“How’s that?” Floyd asked in a cautious tone.

“Could be I’m not opposed to the idea of you and her, if we were to make it a little more interesting.”

“Interesting. How would that work?”

“I was thinking we might make it a family affair.”

His laughter was as harsh as the hand squeezing Jenna’s throat. Her stomach twisted and she could hardly breathe.

“Jesus, Darlene, she’s your daughter.”

“You know, she’s not. Not by blood. She was Frank’s, and when he left, I got stuck with her. But at least I get money to keep her.” Darlene laughed. “Besides, I’m not into girls that way. It’d just be fun to double up on you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

“That’s not what the stiff thing between your legs is saying.” Darlene’s voice dropped low and Jenna had tried really hard not to imagine what they were doing. “I’d say your thinking is already done.”

Jenna hadn’t waited to hear Floyd’s answer. She’d crept across the room and clicked the flimsy lock on her door. She’d known it wouldn’t keep them out if they’d wanted to come in, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do right then. By morning, she had known what she had to do. She’d packed her clothes, taken whatever money she could find while Darlene and Floyd snored, and walked the three miles into town. She’d climbed on a bus going north and ridden it until it stopped.

“And here I am,” Jenna whispered into the silence. She had nothing to fear. Her past was behind her, except when she slowed down enough to let the memories catch her unawares, and she was careful not to do that. That helpless girl, that empty life, were dead and buried. Dead and buried.

She thought about the phone call and a stranger in Vermont, her distant relative. A woman who had known her name and just because of that, had left her all that remained of her life. Jenna had gone so long without a connection to anyone other than Alice, she resented this person she’d never known reaching out from beyond death to touch her life. Her face heated as she recalled the last conversation she’d had with the coroner. She’d been rude, she realized now. She had the excuse of having felt one step away from death herself, but she wasn’t usually so cold and abrupt. But what else could she do?

She had a life of her own, a busy life with many obligations. She couldn’t take time out to go… Time out. Time away. Just what the doctor had ordered.

Now that Alice had canceled her upcoming engagements, she’d be stuck in Manhattan for the summer—with Alice worrying and watching her to see that she didn’t overwork—whatever that meant. If she wasn’t going to tour, she was definitely going to write, and she didn’t want the specter of this minor episode hanging over her head. Alice would no doubt want an accounting of her time. If she escaped to Vermont, she could work with no one to bother her. No one could claim she wasn’t resting or taking a break if she was sequestered in some off-the-map town in the middle of nowhere, for God’s sake.

Jenna threw the sheet aside, her mind racing. She could fly up, take care of whatever paperwork needed to be taken care of, stay on to get a jump on her next book, and make everyone happy. She might die of boredom, but at least she wouldn’t be defending her every action to her overprotective agent. By the time she came home, Alice would have forgotten all about this little event and life could get back to normal.

A few weeks in hiding. The perfect solution.

Jumping naked from bed, she needed a second to get her balance. Damn, she was still light-headed. After retrieving her phone, she called Alice.

“Jenna, hi,” Alice said when she answered. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep?”

“What? Oh. Yes. I’m good. Listen, can you contact the travel agent? I need you to make plane reservations to Vermont for me. Tonight.”

“I’m not following,” Alice said.

“I think the doctor’s right. I should probably take a little break. That phone call earlier—turns out a distant relative died and I need to take care of—things. I’ll need hotel reservations too.”

“Can’t you go tomorrow or the next day? You need to—”

“I think I should go now,” Jenna said. “I should probably see to the funeral arrangements myself.”

“I can do that for you,” Alice said.

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“All right, if you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

A few weeks. A month at the outside. She could handle anything for a month.

Chapter Five

Gard fingered the loose change in the pocket of her khakis while staring out the solitary window at the two Rutland Airport runways. At almost midnight on a weeknight, the small regional airport was nearly deserted. The occasional footstep or distant cough echoed down the empty halls. Behind her in the tiny arrivals waiting area, a prematurely careworn woman in her early twenties juggled a sleeping baby and two fussy toddlers while, despite the din of whining children, an elderly gentleman somehow managed to snooze in the row of black plastic chairs. Replaying the unexpected conversation she’d had with Jenna Hardy a few hours before, Gard tracked the lone set of red lights on the arriving aircraft as it descended through a sea of glittering stars in the inky sky.

“Dr. Davis,” Jenna had begun as soon as Gard answered the phone, “I’ve decided to come to Vermont tonight to take care of the arrangements for my…uh…Elizabeth Hardy.”

“Tonight?”

“I want to get things settled. I was hoping you could help with that.” Hardy’s tone had been brisk and businesslike. And definite. The woman sounded as if she was used to calling the shots, and Gard hadn’t wanted another argument with her. Just the same, she bristled at the near command.

“Of course.” Gard had still been at the clinic, finishing up her billing and reviewing the financial statements for the last quarter. Her stomach churned with a mixture of fatigue, acid, and aggravation. Her part-time office assistant, Bonnie, had failed to file the last quarterly unemployment taxes and now Gard owed penalties. She was as annoyed with herself as she was with Bonnie since she should have been overseeing the accounts and financial paperwork, but not only didn’t she have time, she hated doing it. Growing up, she’d never had to worry about where money came from or where it went. If she needed something, all she had to do was write a check or use the credit card her father had presented her on her thirteenth birthday. Clothes, car, private school tuition. Vacations in the Hamptons. Winter skiing in Vail. She hadn’t thought of herself as a spoiled rich kid, she was simply living the life she’d been born into. How could she know her experience was vastly different than that of the majority of people in the world? All her friends were of the same economic and social class. By the time she’d entered Harvard she’d been aware of the great divide between the wealthy and the non, but not until she’d had the blinders ripped away one morning by a stranger did she really understand that privilege came at a price—a price often paid by others.

Annoyed at the plague of memories, Gard stalked toward the gate where Jenna Hardy’s flight was disembarking. Pacing behind the TSA guard, she studied the travelers who straggled up the gangway and out into the concourse, trying to pick out Hardy. She pictured Hardy as an icy blonde, haughty and unapproachable, like her mother and Susannah and her brother’s wife Daphne. She was typecasting and she knew it, but then, from what she’d experienced of Jenna Hardy so far, she definitely fit the mold of socialite.

A woman appeared out of nowhere, stopping a few feet in front of Gard and perusing her with an amused smile. In low heels, she was almost Gard’s height, and expensively dressed in tapered chocolate brown pants and a rust-colored cashmere sweater that hugged her smallish breasts. The reddish-brown top complemented her wavy, chin-length chestnut hair and accentuated her truly remarkable spring green irises. She was slender, with flawless ivory skin that rarely if ever saw the sun. Her pallor, together with the faint smudges beneath her large, luminous eyes, gave her a fragile, vulnerable air.

“Dr. Davis?”

“Yes. Ms. Hardy?” Gard realized she’d been staring and hoped Hardy had not noticed. It wasn’t as if she didn’t see beautiful women every day. Well, perhaps not every day, but she had seen beautiful women in her life before, and still did. But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been captured quite as quickly by the elegant arch of a brow or the seductive slant of a smile. Jenna Hardy’s face wasn’t perfect, the bridge of her nose had a small bump and her jaw was just a little too square to be classically beautiful, but she was…arresting. And damn it, she was staring again.

Gard held out her hand. “Gard. Gard Davis.”

Jenna laughed and took the offered hand—larger than hers, the palm was rough, but the grip surprisingly gentle. Gardner Davis was not at all what she’d expected. On the phone, the doctor had been irascible and gruff, and Jenna had pictured someone sharp-faced, hard-eyed, and humorless. Although Davis’s features were boldly hewn, her broad forehead and strong jaw gave her a confident, commanding look, even if at the moment, she appeared slightly flummoxed. Her discomfiture was rather endearing, considering how from across the room her dark good looks had made her seem remote and unapproachable. The appreciative glint in her eyes as she took Jenna in, more than once, was quite nice also. Jenna was no stranger to admiring glances, but she was very aware that the looks were for Cassandra. She hadn’t dated a woman who hadn’t been dating Cassandra Hart in…forever. Her choice, of course, and one she did not regret.

“Thank you for picking me up, but you needn’t have,” Jenna said. “I could have taken a cab.”

Gard automatically reached for the carry-on Jenna juggled along with a briefcase and suitbag. “Let me take those. You would never find a cab out here this time of night, and even if you did, no one would drive you the forty miles to Little Falls.”

Jenna rankled at the suggestion she couldn’t manage on her own. “It’s been my experience that for enough money and a generous tip, you can find someone to do almost anything.”

“Yes, I imagine that’s true,” Gard said stiffly.

“I can carry my own bags, thank you,” Jenna said, annoyed by the criticism apparent in Gard’s tone.

“It’s quite a hike out to the parking lot. No need for you to struggle.”

“Always so gallant, Dr. Davis?”

“Not so you’d notice.”

Despite her aggravation, Jenna relinquished her grip on the luggage. She wasn’t going to let false pride stand in the way of good sense. Her headache had abated, but her stomach hadn’t weathered the flight quite as well. She was still a little shaky, she wasn’t going to be able to carry all her luggage, and there were no redcaps in sight. “I have another bag that I checked.”

“Planning to stay for a while?”

Jenna wasn’t certain why everything Gard Davis said sounded like an accusation, as if she were being judged and found lacking. She’d had a hellacious day, her temper was none too steady under the best of circumstances, and she’d stopped accepting insults in silence the day she’d crawled out of Darlene’s trailer. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

“Not at all,” Gard said. “Baggage claim is this way.”

The overly bright, faintly grimy room held three luggage conveyors, two of which sat motionless. A third rattled around with a few stranded bags dotting their black belts in an endless loop. Gard headed in that direction.

Jenna hurried to keep up. “Then what—”

“I doubt you’re going to find Little Falls very entertaining,” Gard said. “Certainly not what you’re used to.”

“Oh? What do you suppose I’m used to?”

“The flight you took came up from New York City. Is that where you live?”

“Manhattan,” Jenna said. “Does that automatically make me incapable of enjoying a few quiet weeks in the country?”

“Not at all. Plenty of people come up here from the city for a break. But they usually stay at trendy resorts or elegant B and Bs. Little Falls is hardly on the map.”

“Believe me, I’ve had my fill of hustle and bustle for a while. I just spent a month plane-hopping from one glitzy hotel to another.” Jenna stopped herself from saying more—she didn’t ordinarily reveal details of her personal life, and Davis’s thorny disposition hardly inspired confidences.

“Who is Cassandra Hart?” Gard asked just as a loud whine followed by a piercing screech signaled the lurching start of a conveyor belt.

“I’m sorry?” Jenna scrambled to remember if she’d mentioned who she was.

“Earlier, when I called. You answered ‘Cassandra Hart.’” Pieces of luggage began to spew from the hidden recesses behind the baggage carousel, and Gard slid closer to make the grab. “What’s it look like?”

“That’s mine,” Jenna said, heading for a large black Pullman. Caught off balance by Gard’s reference to Cassandra, she took advantage of the diversion to consider her answer. Before she could tug the large suitcase off the carousel, Gard got to it first and lifted the large bag as if it were no heavier than Jenna’s briefcase.

“So?” Gard asked.

“I’m Cassandra Hart,” Jenna said.

“You have two names?”

“Cassandra Hart is my pseudonym. The name I write under.”

Gard lifted her brow. “You’re an author?”

“Yes, actually, I am.” Jenna shouldn’t have been surprised that Gardner Davis had no idea who she was, but the knowledge was unexpectedly irritating. And the irritation was even more irritating. Why should she care?

“What do you write?” Gard pulled out the retractable handle on the Pullman, grabbed the carry-on, folded the suitbag over the top of the Pullman, and rolled the assembly toward the double glass doors leading outside.

“Novels.” Jenna hurried to catch up. “Let me take one of those.”

“I’ve got them.”

“Do I look like I’m incapable of carrying my own luggage?”

Gard shot her a grin. “You look like you’re used to having an entourage follow you around taking care of your every need.”

“Exactly why would you think that?”

“You just do. Should I have heard of you?”

“You do realize that a question like that could be construed as offensive?”

“Really?” Gard laughed. “How so?”

Jenna stopped walking. “Well, in the first place, you don’t know who I am, which implies that I’m not important enough to be known. Secondly…” She hesitated, her frown deepening. “Actually, I don’t think there is a second place.”

“Are you important enough to be known?” Gard asked.

“Cassandra is, at least some people think so.”

“And what about you?”

They’d reached the deserted lanes outside the airport, and the mountains rose beyond the sparsely lit parking lot, massive and dark against a moonlit sky. Jenna smelled pine, fresh turned earth, and cut grass—country smells. A visceral memory, both pleasure and pain, of all she’d left behind struck her hard and she jumped. “I’m sorry. What?”

Gard slowed, her expression quizzical and concerned. “Are you famous?”

“Not really, although every one of my last seven new releases has made the New York Times top ten list.” Jenna wasn’t sure why she was trying to impress a stranger, and one who wasn’t even all that likable. Maybe being thrown into surroundings so much like those she’d escaped had her off balance, because she certainly didn’t care what this woman thought of her. Maybe it was just the damn headache making a reappearance that had her acting out of character.

“What exactly do you write?”

“Romances.”

“Ah,” Gard said.

“Ah, what?”

“That’s why I don’t know who you are. I don’t read them.” Gard pointed with her chin. “I’m parked over here.”

“What exactly do you read when you’re not reading medical journals?” The parking lot was unpaved, potholed, and muddy. Spotlights hung from telephone poles in no discernible pattern, dotting the lot with thin cones of light that barely reached the uneven ground. Jenna had to step carefully to avoid puddles left by what must have been a recent, heavy downpour. Her shoes were going to be ruined.

“I like mysteries. Puzzles. Things I have to figure out.”

“Have you ever actually read a romance?”

Gard passed into one of the swaths of light, and Jenna saw her frown. “Wuthering Heights in high school. Maybe. Or that might’ve been CliffsNotes.”

Jenna laughed despite her lingering annoyance. “Then you’ve missed a few things. The genre has changed quite a bit in the last hundred years or so.”

Gard stopped beside a dusty black pickup truck. “How so?”

“Well, there’s sex, for one thing.” Jenna leaned forward, squinting to read the logo on the side. “This is yours?”

“Yep.” Gard unlocked and lifted the cap on the back and began stowing the luggage.

“Little Falls Animal Clinic and Surgery?” Jenna asked.

“That’s my place.”

“You’re a vet?” Jenna exclaimed.

“Yup. I never said I was a medical doctor.”

“But you did say you were the coroner when you called,” Jenna said.

“I am.”

“They let a veterinarian be the coroner?”

“Sometimes it’s a funeral director.” Gard chuckled. “I’ve known a couple who were justices of the peace. I think being a vet might actually overqualify me.” After securing the back, Gard skirted around to the passenger side door and opened it for Jenna, who trailed behind. “Need a hand getting up in here?”

“I think I can manage,” Jenna said icily. She’d no sooner said the words than she stepped into a water-filled rut a good foot deep, lost her balance, and pitched forward. “Oh!”

“Hey!” Gard jumped forward and caught Jenna before she could hit the ground. She swept Jenna up and into her arms. “Are you all right?”

Jenna automatically entwined her arms around Gard’s neck, her face almost brushing Gard’s cheek. Her knee screamed but the pain was clouded by the scent of sweet clover, something she hadn’t smelled in over a decade and hadn’t realized she missed. Her breasts pressed against Gard’s chest, and when her nipples tightened, she pulled away. “Put me down.”

“Sure thing,” Gard said, amazed at how light Jenna felt in her arms. Her vet work kept her strong and she could lift as much weight as most men her size, but this woman seemed to be sketched out of the air and as fragile as a wisp of cloud. When she set her down on the ground, Jenna gasped and leaned heavily against her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jenna straightened, her features tightening as she clenched her jaws.

“Bullshit. Twist your ankle?”

“My knee,” Jenna said through her teeth.

“Okay then.” Gard bent slightly, slid an arm behind Jenna’s shoulders and the other behind her knees, and picked her up again. “Watch your head.”

Jenna ducked as Gard eased her into the front seat. “Thank you. I’m fine.”

Gard closed the door, circled the front of the truck, and climbed behind the wheel. She started the engine and then shifted in the seat to face her passenger. “There’s a hospital between here and Little Falls. We can stop and have you looked at.”

“I’m fine,” Jenna snapped. “I started the day in the hospital, I’m not going to end in one.”

“What happened this morning?”

“Nothing. Please, can we just go?”

“Absolutely. You’re the boss.” Gard shifted into gear and drove out of the lot.

After a few moments of silence, Jenna said, “I apologize for my bad manners. You’ve been very helpful all day.”

“No need to apologize.” Gard gripped the wheel more tightly. Her prejudices were affecting her in ways they hadn’t for years. “I should apologize. You’ve done nothing to warrant my mood. It sounds like it’s been a long day for both of us. Why don’t we just leave it at that.”

“Fair enough.” Jenna leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I don’t suppose the hotel has room service?”

Gard laughed. “It’s the middle of the night. There probably won’t even be anyone at the desk. If you’re still hungry when we get to the clinic, there’s an all-night diner at the edge of town. Jackie makes the best home fries in two states.”

Jenna’s eyes snapped open. “What clinic?”

“My clinic.”

“What are you talking about?”

Gard shot her a quick glance then focused on the road. “I want to take a look at your knee.”

“You’re a vet!”

“Knees are all pretty much the same.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I won’t take you for an early breakfast.” Gard turned on the radio to an oldies station and turned it down low. “Besides, I’m driving, so you don’t have much choice.”

Jenna swallowed a sharp retort and turned away to stare out the window. What an arrogant, overbearing pain in the ass. She would’ve argued more, but her knee throbbed and if Gard hadn’t caught her she might have fallen. Once in a day was enough for that.

“We’ve got about a forty-five-minute drive,” Gard said. “I don’t mind if you snooze on the way.”

“I’m not tired,” Jenna said, but as the darkness closed in around them, and the old familiar music played in the background, she closed her eyes and drifted on memories of sweet clover, country lanes, and summer nights filled with youthful dreams.

Chapter Six

Gard pulled into the empty gravel lot beside her sprawling clinic on the outskirts of Little Falls, turned off the motor, and studied her passenger. Jenna still slept, her head tilted against the window, her face partially illuminated by silver starlight. The otherworldly glow accentuated the contours of her face and smoothed away the lines of fatigue Gard had seen earlier, giving her the look of a delicately carved ivory statue. She’d been surprised when Jenna had fallen asleep—she seemed too tightly wound to relax so completely with a stranger. But then she’d heard the quiet moans cutting through the low murmur of the radio as she’d driven through the night. Jenna was either having a very bad dream or was in considerable pain. Judging from how she’d looked when she’d arrived at the airport—drawn and exhausted—along with her earlier comment about having started the day in the hospital, Gard suspected she wasn’t well. Although Jenna had put on a good show of being totally in command, right now she appeared not only defenseless, but vulnerable.

A surge of protectiveness, coupled with an intense desire to ease Jenna’s discomfort, put Gard on instant alert. The reaction was foreign, primitive, and one she was quite sure she’d never experienced toward any other human being. Uneasy with the unwelcome urges, she chalked her mood up to the lateness of the hour and the hypnotic pull of the waxing gibbous moon overhead. Everything seemed slightly unreal awash in the moonlight, including her own feelings.

“Ms. Hardy?” Gard said quietly, carefully pressing her fingertips to the sleeping woman’s shoulder.

Jenna jolted upright with a gasp and jerked away from Gard’s touch, her expression a mixture of apprehension and combativeness. “What? Where are we?”

“I’m sorry,” Gard said quickly, aware that Jenna was not just startled, but threatened. Someone had frightened her in the night, in the dark, before, and the knowledge settled in the pit of her stomach like a hot, hard stone. “You’re in my truck. At my clinic. You fell asleep.”

Jenna slowly drew air in through her nose, visibly calming herself. She was strong, and admirably self-sufficient. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to fall asleep. My apologies.”

“None needed. How’s your leg?”

Tentatively, Jenna extended her knee and winced. “Stiff, but moving.”

“I’ll come around and help you out.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary, Dr. Davis.”

“Gard. Call me Gard.”

“Then it’s Jenna to you.”

“All right. Jenna. I’ll come around and help you out.”

Jenna folded her arms over her middle and glared at Gard. “Are you always this overbearingly authoritative?”

Gard grinned. “Usually just with the horses. You’re a special case.”

Jenna refused to smile, but she wanted to. God, the woman was infuriating, but on her, even arrogance was attractive. “I can walk.”

“Let’s find out.”

Gard jumped down from the truck, shoved her keys into the front pocket of her khakis, and hurried around to the passenger side of the truck, not trusting Jenna to wait. The woman was independent to a fault, and Gard didn’t want her to hurt herself just to prove that she didn’t need any help. Besides, she wanted an excuse to lift her out of the truck. And she did not want to think very long about why she hungered to hold Jenna in her arms again. After pulling open the cab door, she reached inside and slid one arm under Jenna’s knees and the other around her shoulders. “Hold on.”

“You really ought to ask permission first.” Just the same, Jenna threaded her arms around Gard’s neck and let herself be lifted from the cab. She tried to keep some distance between their bodies, but that proved difficult when Gard tightened her hold and pulled her against her chest. The muscles in Gard’s arms bunched against the backs of Jenna’s thighs and along her shoulders in an unconscious display of strength that was tantalizing and, damn it, arousing. She wasn’t usually so quick to respond physically to a casual touch from a woman. Her body was not her own today—her reactions seemed to belong to someone else. She hated being out of control this way, but the pleasure of being cradled in the arms of a woman who looked and smelled as good as Gard did was way beyond her ability to ignore, so she might as well enjoy the tingling in her breasts and other places. Secretly. The last thing she wanted was Gard Davis knowing she was turned on by such innocent contact with her. “Don’t hurt your back.”

“Hmm?” Gard asked absently, having caught a hint of dahlias and spice, reminding her of hot summer mornings before the dew burned off. But it wasn’t morning, and the dahlias hadn’t bloomed. “Is that you?”

“What?”

“That…” Gard caught herself trying to catch another hint of the alluring scent and mentally cursed. What the hell was she doing? She never got lost in a woman this way. “Never mind.”

“Maybe you should put me down. I think you’re shaking.”

“I’m not going to drop you.” Gard laughed. “Besides, this is nothing compared to a traction delivery or examining a cow’s hoof when she’s leaning on you.”

“I’m so glad I’m easier than the patients you usually have to deal with,” Jenna said with a bit of temper. “You know, being compared to a barnyard animal isn’t exactly flattering.”

“I guess my social patter needs a little work,” Gard said dryly. “Hold on to me while I let you down. I want you to put most of your weight on me until you test your knee. Don’t try to be a hero.”

“Heroine.”

“Isn’t hero a gender-neutral term these days?”

Jenna leaned back and studied Gard appraisingly. “That’s an unusual question coming from someone who claims not to read romances.”

“What do you mean?”

“That question is hotly debated among some romance authors.”

“Why? Isn’t there always a hero and heroine? You don’t have to read them to know that much.”

“Not true in my books.”

Gard hesitated in front of the two stone steps leading to the main door of the clinic, holding Jenna easily in her arms. It wasn’t that she was super strong, but she enjoyed the weight of the woman against her body. The slight strain in the muscles in her arms was well worth the soft press of Jenna’s breasts against her chest. She was probably taking advantage of Jenna’s injury, as she doubted Jenna would have wanted to be in this position otherwise, but she welcomed the slow burn in the pit of her stomach. A woman hadn’t affected her this way in a long, long time. “I don’t follow.”

“I guess I didn’t mention that I write romances involving two women.”

“Lesbian romances?” Gard asked.

“Yes.”

“Huh. Is there much call for that kind of book?”

Jenna laughed. “Enough. And getting more popular all the time.”

“And are there a hero and heroine or two heroines?” Gard paused. “Or two heroes?”

“Well, I guess part of it depends on your politics or your comfort level or how you view the gender spectrum.” As much as Jenna was enjoying the odd and unexpected turn in the conversation, they were standing outside in the dark in the middle of the night. Well, Gard was standing and she was taking shameless advantage of her. She didn’t need to be carried, and it was time to relinquish her guilty pleasure. “You should put me down.”

“Ready?”

“Yes, go ahead.” Jenna carefully shifted her weight onto her injured leg as Gard eased her down. Her knee throbbed even when she wasn’t standing, and the more pressure she put on it, the sharper the pain became. She gripped Gard’s shoulders harder and tried not to wince.

“On a scale of one to ten,” Gard said, “ten being you can’t stand on it at all, where are we?”

“About a seven,” Jenna said reluctantly.

“Well, let’s not test it any further.” Gard scooped Jenna up and climbed to the narrow landing. “I want to take a look at this inside.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenna said. “This can’t be what you wanted to be doing in the middle of the night.”

“Believe me, there are lots of things I’d rather not be doing right now. Carrying a beautiful woman in my arms isn’t one of them.”

Jenna’s breath caught. “Well that’s a clever line.”

“That wasn’t a line. Could you reach into my right front pants pocket and pull out my keys?”

“Yeah, right. You’ve got a pretty smooth routine,” Jenna said acerbically. “And I am not putting my hand in your pants.”

“I’m not putting you down again, so just get the damn keys.”

“Fine,” Jenna muttered, sliding her right hand down until her fingers brushed the fly of Gard’s khakis. She tried to ignore the way Gard stiffened at the contact, but she couldn’t contain her own response. Heat bloomed in her chest and tendrils of pleasure teased between her legs. She pushed her hand into Gard’s pocket, and stone-hard muscles bunched against her palm. Oh now, that was nice. She closed her fist around a cluster of keys, careful not to let her hand stray toward the heat she knew was inches away. But she wanted to. Part of her wanted to feel Gard react to her touch again. The power to make a woman respond was an aphrodisiac all its own.

“Here.” Jenna jerked her hand free, the keys clenched in her fist.

“Thanks,” Gard said, her voice tight. She raised one knee, nestling Jenna in the cradle of her body, and took the keys. After a second of jostling the ring, she inserted a key, opened the door, and stepped inside. “On the wall to the left of the door. Light switch.”

Jenna fumbled over the wall until she found the toggle and flipped it up. She blinked against the sudden glare, taking in a square, whitewashed cinderblock room that more resembled the waiting area in an auto repair shop than what she’d imagined she’d find in a veterinary clinic. A waist-high counter ran parallel to the opposite wall and obviously served as a reception desk. Stacks of papers and file folders covered one end. A computer monitor, a phone, and a small adding machine were the only other items visible. The floor was black and gray industrial tile, well-worn, but clean. A soda machine occupied the center of the far wall with a few mismatched metal folding chairs haphazardly clustered directly in front of it. A green plastic trash can stood nearby with a hand-lettered sign on brown cardboard stating “We Recycle.”

“My practice is large animals,” Gard said as if reading Jenna’s perplexed look as criticism. “I don’t need a waiting room, although sometimes owners like to wait if we’re doing surgery. Most of my calls are actually on-site.”

“No dogs and cats or exotic birds?” Jenna said.

Gard grimaced. “Only in emergencies.”

Jenna settled back into Gard’s arms as Gard carried her across the room toward a single wood-paneled door behind the counter.

“Where do you operate?”

“Through there.” Gard tilted her head toward two floor-to-ceiling gunmetal gray swinging doors in the far rear corner. “There’s another whole building in the back. We need a lot of space for the hoists, recovery confinement areas, that sort of thing. This used to be a Chevy dealership. I had it retrofitted—” She stopped when Jenna laughed. “What?”

“I thought it looked like you ought to be repairing cars here.” Jenna tried to silence her amusement, because each time she laughed her breasts swayed against Gard’s chest in an altogether too appealing way. She was in danger of getting seriously turned on.

“Some of the horses can weigh as much as one.”

Gard opened the door behind the counter and they repeated the light switch routine, although this time, the room was considerably more hospitable than the stark waiting area outside. Jenna had expected a utilitarian office but this fifteen by twenty foot space was anything but. Dark wood bookcases crammed with a variety of books, some professional and some that appeared to be pleasure reading, filled the left wall from floor to ceiling. An oversized brown leather sofa took up most of the wall across from the bookcases. Directly ahead, a heavy carved-walnut desk sat on a dark chocolate and beige Persian rug in front of a pair of French doors. The walls that weren’t covered with framed photos of horses were painted a rich cream. The hardwood cherry floors gleamed. If Jenna hadn’t just passed through the barren room posing as a reception area—and doing a crappy job of that—she would have sworn she was in the study of a Park Avenue mansion. “This is a surprise.”

Gard glanced around as if seeing the room for the first time. Then she shrugged. “It’s comfortable.”

Jenna’s attention was diverted from her elegant surroundings when Gard gently deposited her on the butter-soft leather sofa, lifted her legs onto the seat, and removed her shoes. Gard’s blue cotton shirt was sweat-dampened along the open edges of the collar at her throat, a reminder that she’d had to exert some effort carrying Jenna all that way. While Jenna was well used to looking after herself and liked it that way, Gard’s singular attention was…well, exciting.

“So…what next, Doctor?”

Gard frowned down at her and an uncomfortable tension suddenly permeated the air.

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to roll up your pants leg high enough for me to examine you,” Gard said. “You’ll need to take them off.”

“Oh, wait a—”

“I’ll find you something to cover up with.” Gard spun on her heel and disappeared.

Jenna experimentally flexed her knee. She really did not want to get half naked in Gard Davis’s study in the middle of the night. She hadn’t planned on a doctor’s visit. She was wearing black silk bikinis. Small bikinis. They’d been handy when she was getting dressed and she hadn’t really been planning on an evening out. Had she known she would be disrobing in front of a stranger, she would’ve worn something nondescript and infinitely forgettable. Maybe she could save them both further trouble.

Unfortunately, when she tried to bend her knee the pain was excruciating. She dropped her head onto the arm of the sofa and glared at the ceiling.

“I cannot believe this is happening to me. Could my life get any worse?”

“Probably,” Gard said, coming back through the door they had entered carrying a plaid horse blanket. “This is the best I can do. My patients usually aren’t concerned with modesty. It’s clean.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

After Gard covered her with the blanket, which thankfully wasn’t wool, Jenna quickly unzipped her pants underneath it, and immediately realized she couldn’t get them off. She could raise her hips, but she couldn’t bend her knees. “Would you mind pulling them down.”

“Not at all.” Gard reached beneath the blanket near Jenna’s ankles and carefully tugged on Jenna’s pants until they were free. After draping them over the end of the sofa, she sat next to Jenna. “I’m just going to push the blanket up until I can look at the knee area.”

“Whatever you need to do.”

Gard was gentle, even more than Jenna had expected her to be. As she pressed her fingertips slowly and carefully over Jenna’s lower thigh, her knee, and the upper portion of her lower leg, she asked if it hurt.

“No,” Jenna said. Pain was not what she was experiencing. Did the woman have to have great hands, too? “Are you done?”

“Just a second.”

Gard lightly probed one spot on the outer aspect of Jenna’s knee, and Jenna thought a burning poker had been jammed into the joint.

“Ow, God. Ow, damn it.”

“Sorry. Might have a little bit of a ligament tear,” Gard said.

“They shoot horses for that, don’t they?” Jenna gritted her teeth and refused to whimper.

“Not anymore.” Gard slid one hand behind Jenna’s knee and the other in front. “I’m going to test this now and if I hurt you, I want you tell me immediately and I’ll stop.”

Jenna wanted something to hold on to, and the thin plaid blanket was the only thing available. She gripped it in both hands. “Go ahead.”

Gard bent Jenna’s knee in smooth steady increments and Jenna started to relax. Sore. But not terrible. Then, out of the blue, fire blazed across her knee again and she cried out before she could stop herself.

“I’m done,” Gard said quickly. She carefully straightened Jenna’s leg and rested it back on the sofa.

Jenna didn’t realize she’d yanked the blanket above her hips until a gentle tug on the fabric clutched in her grip drew her attention to Gard covering her again. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. You’re going to need to stay off that leg for a day or two. Ice, anti-inflammatories, minimal weight-bearing. I think you’ve just got a bad sprain, but if it doesn’t get better with conservative therapy you may need an MRI or arthroscopy.”

“I think I’d rather you shoot me.”

Gard laughed. “You say that now. Let me find an ice pack and we’ll get you over to the hotel and into bed.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’ve done enough already.”

“I already told you there aren’t any other options. You’d be miserable sleeping on this couch and you won’t get a cab out here this time of night.”

“At least let me pay you for your—”

“Don’t insult me.” Gard stood quickly, her hands in her pockets, and regarded Jenna tightly. “I’ve got a knee immobilizer in the back. My part-time office manager left it here when she got tired of wearing it. Softball injury. It ought to allow you to walk if you’re careful.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to need help getting your pants on?”

“Oh for God’s sake…I can…how much time do we have?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Gard tried to sound casual, but the last thing she wanted was to get any closer to Jenna. She’d been touching her, even if she had been completely professional, for longer than she’d touched a woman in years. Jenna’s skin was so soft, and she smelled so damn good. Now she was half naked, and goddamn it, thinking about her naked when she was hurt and vulnerable was wrong. Carefully, she slid Jenna’s silk pants over her ankles and guided them up Jenna’s thighs. Despite trying not to, Gard caught a glimpse of delicate black panties stretched over the graceful arches of Jenna’s hip bones and the inviting hollow just above the mound of her sex. Her mouth went instantly dry and her abdomen tightened with a swift and dangerous hunger that shocked her. She didn’t realize she’d stopped moving, the material of Jenna’s pants gripped in her fingers, until Jenna spoke.

“I think I can get it from here.”

“Of course.” Gard released the pants and straightened abruptly, turning her back. “I’ll get that immobilizer.”

Before Jenna could protest, Gard disappeared. Jenna closed her eyes, the unmistakable image of desire imprinted on her mind.

Chapter Seven

Jenna had been quiet since they’d left the clinic, and ordinarily Gard wouldn’t mind silence. She spent so much time alone, or talking to animals who didn’t talk back, she’d pretty much lost the art of casual conversation, let alone anything more intimate. Jenna’s quiet didn’t bother her so much as it concerned her. She couldn’t tell if Jenna was in pain, or angry, or sad. She’d sat motionless, looking out the side window, since they got in the truck.

“Are you all right?” Gard asked.

“I’m fine,” Jenna said softly.

“Still hungry?”

“It’s two in the morning.” Jenna turned from where she’d been watching the night pass by in fragmented snapshots of hoary fields back-dropped by the skeletal arms of tree branches stretching into a ghostly sky. She’d cracked the window, and the tang of newly plowed fields, fresh-cut grass, and fecund life transported her back a dozen years and five hundred miles away to a place she’d thought she would never want to go again. How was it that the taste of a summer night could make her feel fifteen again, filled with promise and expectation and restless longing? But she wasn’t fifteen anymore, and all that youthful anticipation had been extinguished by the harsh hand of experience. Hopes and dreams were for those who couldn’t control their own destinies, but she could. She could. She’d had to learn to shape her own fate, and she’d gotten very good at doing that. “I imagine you’d like to get some sleep tonight.”

“I’d say about a third of the month I’m up working all night,” Gard said. “This is as usual a time for me to have breakfast as it is to have dinner. I guess I don’t work by a normal clock.”

Jenna shifted around on the seat, trying to get comfortable with the unfamiliar and incredibly aggravating knee immobilizer forcing her to keep her leg out straight. Putting her back against the door, she watched Gard drive. She looked relaxed, her shoulders back against the seat, her hands low on either side of the wheel, her eyes fixed straight ahead. In charge, but comfortable, in tune with her surroundings. Gard didn’t look as if she ever had to wrestle with fate to keep her life just where she wanted it. Jenna found that both admirable and annoying.

“Are you married?” Jenna asked.

Gard whipped her head around and hit Jenna with a hard stare, then just as quickly faced front again. “I’m trying to figure out what my discussion of mealtime has to do with that.”

“Sorry,” Jenna said. “I have a tendency to think in chapter breaks. One of the first rules of novel writing is that every chapter should begin very close to the heart of the scene. I guess I’m not much on leading up to a topic.”

Gard laughed. “I’m still not getting the segue.”

“Oh. Sorry. I was thinking it must be kind of hard to be in a relationship when your schedule is so erratic. Unless of course, you have a very patient partner.”

“Plenty of doctors have stable long-term relationships.”

“Absolutely. And plenty don’t.” Jenna noted Gard very often redirected the conversation to avoid answering a question. She recognized the ploy because she used it herself. Gard, despite her laid-back demeanor, was very guarded. Her name suited her. “Touchy topic, Dr. Davis?”

“Nope.” Gard’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Not attached. Never have been.”

“And is that just because you enjoy working all the time, or you’re more of a casual dater?”

“Neither,” Gard said, sounding a little as if her answer surprised her. “You’re right—I do like my work, and it doesn’t leave a lot of time for socializing. But I’m not much for socializing anyhow.”

“That’s a shame,” Jenna murmured.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing.” Jenna wondered why she’d asked Gard the question. She rarely gave much thought to the private lives of women she found attractive. The only thing she really cared about was whether they were attached or not. When she’d run away from home and was living hand to mouth in one dead-end job after the other, sex staved off loneliness. She hadn’t been above sleeping with a married woman then, but before very long, the excuse that everyone was responsible for their own relationships started to feel a little self-serving. Now she at least tried to determine if the women she bedded were single. Well, usually. Thinking back to Brin—God, had it really only been twenty-four hours since they’d been tearing each other’s clothes off?—she realized she hadn’t made any effort to find out her marital status. But nothing about Brin screamed married. As to Gard, the answer was moot. The woman was attractive—physically, at least—but she was far too controlling. Jenna liked aggressive women in bed, but just spending time in the same space as Gard was a battle and she didn’t need that in the bedroom.

“You never answered my question about being hungry,” Gard said.

“Actually, I’m starved.” Jenna was wide-awake with nothing to look forward to except an uncomfortable night in a strange hotel. She wouldn’t mind spending a little more time sparring with Gard. Verbally at least. “So if you really don’t mind—”

“I was the one who offered. You can trust me to tell you what I mean. I don’t have time for games.”

Jenna heard the word anymore hang in the air, and wondered what game Gard had played, and with whom. And if she’d won or lost.

“I’m in then,” Jenna said.

Oscar’s Road House perched on the side of Route 7 like a wet rooster, bedraggled but feisty. Even at two in the morning, pickup trucks and eighteen-wheelers clogged the dirt and gravel parking lot around the ramshackle barn-red diner. No-frills security lights blazed from under the eaves, as bright as the noontime sun. Jenna blinked when Gard opened her door and helped her down from the truck.

“Popular place,” Jenna said.

“Oscar’s makes the best homemade sausage in three counties,” Gard informed her as they navigated the parking lot. “How’s the leg?”

“It’ll get me where I need to go, as long as I don’t need to be there this week,” Jenna muttered.

Gard laughed. “I could always carry you again.”

Jenna shot her a look. “Oh, and wouldn’t that make a perfect entrance. We’re probably going to be the only women in this place as it is.”

“That’s not true. All the waitresses are female.”

“Some things never change.” Jenna rolled her eyes, wondering exactly what she was getting into. She knew what these places were like. She hadn’t been in one since she was seventeen and slinging hash on nights and weekends to buy clothes for school, but she hadn’t forgotten the come-ons disguised as teasing that were always one step away from turning ugly when she refused. As she and Gard stepped through the revolving glass door into the brightly lit long, narrow room, she saw the familiar vinyl-lined booths hugging the front windows and the topsy-turvy counter stools on the other side of the narrow, grease-splattered aisle. Men ranging from twenty to sixty hunched over coffee in all the booths, most of them wearing green work shirts and khaki pants, all with sweat-ringed caps sporting the logos of long-distance trucking companies. And every single one of them turned to watch her and Gard make their way slowly to the counter. She didn’t mind being looked at. She was on stage almost every day of her life. But for an instant, she couldn’t help remembering the girl she had been—her clothes outdated, her hair home-cut, her eyes haunted by the oppressive neglect of growing up with a woman who saw her as nothing more than a meal ticket. She was expected to accept the offers for a night of fun, no matter how crudely put, because everyone knew she could do no better. The past came rushing back so quickly she abruptly stopped.

“Just a little farther,” Gard murmured, resting her hand at the small of Jenna’s back. “There’re open spaces right over here.”

“I’m fine,” Jenna said.

“You’re ten shades of pale. This was a stupid idea. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine, damn it. Just give me a lift onto the stool. This brace is impossible to move in.”

“That’s the idea.” Despite what Jenna’d said, Gard slid her arm farther around Jenna’s waist, worried she might faint. A wolf-whistle cut through the air and Gard swiveled her head, honing in on a scruffy guy with bloodshot eyes leering at them. Leering at Jenna. She wanted to smack the lascivious grin off his face, and then pulled herself up short. Hell, she bumped shoulders with good ole boys like him every day and never gave their off-color remarks and lewd looks a second thought. She blanked her expression and locked on his eyes until he slid his gaze away.

“Here you go.” Gard guided Jenna onto a stool and took the one next to her, extending one leg a little into the aisle to protect Jenna’s injured knee from careless passersby. Leaning over the counter, she signaled to a heavyset bleached-blonde in a too-short, tight black skirt who poured coffee a few seats away. “Hey, Betty. Could you bring us an orange juice and a couple of those glazed doughnuts right away?”

The blonde glared before spotting Gard, her iceberg expression melting into a hot pink smile. “Of course, darlin’.”

“I’m really all right,” Jenna murmured, refusing to give in to yet another case of the swirlies.

“You just need a little sugar to counteract all the stress. If you’re not feeling better in a few minutes, we’ll get something to go.”

“All right. Thanks.” Jenna hated being so exposed and vulnerable. “I’m not usually such a wimp.”

“You mentioned being in the hospital this morning,” Gard said. “What happened?”

“Nothing. It was just a…thing.”

“Oh. The dreaded thing. They can be a nuisance.”

Betty slid two enormous honey-colored glazed doughnuts in front of them along with glasses of orange juice. “Coffee too?”

“Yes,” Gard said. “Thanks.”

“None for me.” Jenna broke off a piece of the doughnut, put it in her mouth, and nearly swooned as an explosion of warm dough and sweet maple assaulted her taste buds. “Oh my God. What is this?”

“Vermont’s own maple-glazed doughnuts. They make them here.”

“This place is dangerous.”

“Wait until you taste breakfast.” Gard nodded her thanks to Betty when the coffee arrived and asked for two specials. “So you were telling me about this thing.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Why don’t you anyway.”

Jenna sighed. “You are annoyingly stubborn.”

“You can add that to overbearingly authoritative.”

Jenna laughed. Nothing seemed to faze this woman. “I’ve been on a really hectic book tour for almost a month. I had a signing that ran late last night, I didn’t get much sleep, and I…sort of fainted. That’s all. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Sort of fainted, or did?”

Jenna swiped a hand through her hair. “Did.”

“And then you flew up here, injured your knee, and haven’t had dinner or any sleep tonight either. No wonder you’re light-headed.”

“Who said I’m light-headed.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.” Jenna ate some more of the doughnut, feeling her strength return as the sugar surged through her bloodstream. “I’m going straight to hell for eating this thing. How many does it take before you’re addicted?”

Gard glanced at Jenna’s plate. “You’re about there now.”

Jenna moaned. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“I’ll feel better if you stayed at my place for the rest of the night.”

“Really.” Jenna pushed away the last half of the doughnut and swiveled on the seat to face Gard. “You work fast for someone who isn’t interested in dating.”

“If I wanted to date, I’d make it more obvious and I’d suggest somewhere more exciting than my guest room. You’ve had a hard day and a harder night. I don’t know how to say this without insulting you, but you look like hell.”

“Well, that may be the reason you don’t date very much, Dr. Davis. You’re somewhat lacking in tact.”

“So I’ve been told,” Gard said.

“So far tonight,” Jenna said, ticking points off on one hand, “I’ve forced you to drive for hours in the middle of the night to shuttle me from the airport, then provide emergency medical care, and now you’re ferrying me around so I can eat. I’m hardly going to add to all that by having you put me up at your house. I have a perfectly good hotel room waiting. But thank you.”

“There’s only one place in town and it’s perfectly fine, but it’s more of a motel. There’s one night clerk who, if I’m not mistaken, is barely out of high school. If you have a problem, I don’t want you to be there alone. I have to leave at six for my calls. You’ll be able to sleep in until I get back around noon. Then I’ll take you to the motel.”

“No. I’m not inconveniencing you any—”

“If I have to drive you to town it’s another half an hour each way. My place is a mile off this road.”

Jenna eyed Gard suspiciously. “And you just happened to take me to the diner that was around the corner from your house?”

Gard grinned. “A mile is hardly around the corner.”

“Don’t give me that. I know what things are like out in the country. This place is practically in your backyard.”

“Not always a city girl, hmm?”

Jenna flushed and clasped her hands in her lap before Gard could see them shaking. “You’re nefarious.”

“Now there is a word I haven’t been called in…oh, a century or so.”

Jenna couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “How about impossible? Does that work a little better for you?”

“I think I prefer nefarious. More sophisticated.”

Jenna snorted.

“So are we agreed?”

“You make the motel sound so appealing.” Jenna shrugged. “I’m not making you drive around an extra hour to take me to town. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Gard took in the circles under Jenna’s eyes, the pallor that went deeper than the natural hue of her skin, the tightness around her eyes that spoke of pain, both physical and something beyond. For just an instant, she saw Jenna asleep in her bed, secure in the circle of her arms, and knew she’d lied.

When it came to Jenna Hardy, she wasn’t sure of anything at all.

Chapter Eight

Jenna went back to watching the night as Gard turned off the serpentine country road onto a gravel lane that wound between regiments of towering oaks and lone spruce sentries. The moon flirted in and out behind smoky clouds while ahead of them an apparition rose, Brigadoon-like from the shadows, to consume the horizon. A stately white clapboard house stretched its wings from either side of the main building into darkness, its tall, narrow windows flanked by black shutters like so many thick lashes. Incandescent lanterns on either side of the double front doors cast pale yellow circles onto a columned porch. Not a mansion built to mimic the elegance and gallantry of centuries gone by, but the real thing. A country manor house preserved in all its glory.

“And to think I passed on the Motel 6.” Jenna rapidly revised her earlier assessment of Gard as a simple country vet. Gard hadn’t earned enough tending livestock to buy a place like this. Family money, maybe, or inherited. Definitely a mystery, and when the puzzle came wrapped up in a package like Gard Davis, a fascinating one she itched to unwrap.

Gard pulled the truck around the circular drive and stopped. “The walk is tricky. Wait for me.”

Peering through the windshield, Jenna got the impression of another sizeable building looming behind the house—the barn, she presumed. When Gard opened the door, the night rushed in, carrying the wild scent of the surrounding farmland and woods. A gust of wind singing with the deep rumble of bullfrogs and the high-pitched rustle of insects whipped her hair around her face, and she reached up to brush the errant strands out of her eyes. She could almost believe she’d stepped through a time warp, and Gard’s sudden appearance did nothing to dispel the illusion. Her profile etched in starlight, her dark hair blowing, and one hand held out to Jenna, she might have been the lord of the manor handing a lady down from her carriage.

Jenna was no Cinderella, though, and she knew it only too well. Had she waited to be rescued so long ago, she would still be lugging trays at Benny’s. Ignoring Gard’s outstretched hand as agilely as she had dodged the unwanted advances of Benny’s customers, Jenna gripped Gard’s shoulder instead and stepped down onto her uninjured leg.

“How’s the knee?” Gard asked.

“Better.” Jenna let her hand linger on Gard’s shoulder and tested her damaged knee. Sore but serviceable. She relinquished her hold on Gard. “I think the treatment might be worse than the injury.”

“Often the case,” Gard said, “but this walk is uneven and you won’t be able to see the flagstones in the dark.”

“This is no little country farm.”

When they started toward the house, Gard slipped her arm around Jenna’s waist, and Jenna didn’t protest the chivalry. She might not need rescuing, but she liked the hard heat of Gard’s body. As long as she was the one in charge of the touching.

“Mulberry Ridge was once one of the largest farms in the state. I was lucky to get the house after the family sold off most of the land.”

“And there’s just you here?”

“Me, Beam, and a couple dozen horses, goats, and chickens.”

“Beam?”

A dark form cannonballed out of the shadows and bore down on them so quickly Jenna gasped and pressed close against Gard. “What—”

“Beam,” Gard called sharply. “Take it easy. Walking wounded here.”

A wriggling Labrador Retriever skidded to a halt in front of them, tongue lolling and eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Jenna laughed. “Your roommate?”

“One and the same.”

“Hello you.” Jenna released her grip on Gard’s arm and leaned down to pet the dog.

“That’s enough, Beam. Go on up now,” Gard said.

The dog shot up the steps and Gard took Jenna’s hand, helping her up to the wide plank porch. After unlocking the front door, Gard led the way inside and flipped on a light switch.

“Beam,” Gard said, “go in the kitchen.”

Jenna was too absorbed by her surroundings to be more than momentarily impressed that the dog obeyed. A slate-floored foyer led to a large central hall with doors standing open on either side. She noted a library on the left, a sitting room on the right, and straight ahead a huge curving staircase that opened onto a semicircular second-floor balcony that overlooked the central hall. Oh yes, this was definitely the lord of the manor’s home. Scattered rugs covered gleaming random-width hardwood floors and a huge chandelier hung in a glass-domed cupola high above their heads.

“This place is exquisite. Have you been here long?”

“A few years.” Gard tossed her keys casually onto an oak side table with a beveled mirror. “I’ll show you your room, then bring up your luggage.”

“All I need is the carry-on,” Jenna said, recognizing that Gard was avoiding any discussion of the personal. Gard was a mass of contradictions, and so was Jenna’s reaction to her. They’d only just met, but Gard had somehow gotten closer to her than anyone other than Alice had managed in years. Close enough to divert Jenna from her plans to stay at the motel, close enough to convince Jenna to stay at her home, close enough to take care of her, to have touched her more than once. Jenna hadn’t let her close as much as Gard had crossed the barriers she had carefully constructed as if they didn’t even exist, and that made Jenna wary. She felt vulnerable, and not just because Gard held her secrets even closer than Jenna held hers. She was uncomfortably aware of liking Gard’s attention. A lot.

“I’ll wait here, if you want to grab my bag out of the truck,” Jenna said. “I can carry it upstairs.”

“No doubt. But I’m not going to watch you struggle with it just so you can prove you can do it.”

“Just when I think I’m starting to like you, you piss me off again.”

Gard grinned, an appealing, crooked grin that on anyone else would probably have come off as practiced. On her it was completely natural and all the more attractive. “I seem to do that a lot.”

“You’re right, you do. If you insist on playing the knight to my damsel in distress, just bring in the damn bag. I’m too tired for another power struggle.”

“I can’t see you in that role—damsel in distress.”

“Good. Neither can I.” Jenna smiled. She could see Gard as a knight, though. She had that intensity and sense of purpose, and damn it, she liked that about her. Not at all her usual response to women trying to take charge. “I’ll get a head start on the stairs while you’re gone.”

Gard hesitated, then nodded. “All right. Your room is up the stairs, the first on the right. I’ll be right up.”

“Thanks.”

Jenna crossed to the stairs and started the laborious process of ascending. From behind her, she heard a soft “Be careful,” and the last of her annoyance melted with the stroke of Gard’s deep voice over her skin.

The guest room was country-classic with floral print wallpaper above white beadboard wainscoting, French doors that opened onto a wood-railed balcony, and a canopy bed. An antique writing desk nestled in front of lace-curtained bay windows, the window bench complete with a red velvet seat cushion. The modernized adjoining bath was fitted out with a Jacuzzi and glassed-in shower.

Jenna retrieved her computer from her briefcase and set it on the desk. She hadn’t checked her mail since she’d arrived at the airport, and business was a twenty-four-hour-a-day event in the Internet-connected world. She probably couldn’t get online way out here, but she could at least respond to her latest messages and send them in the morning. Hopefully the motel had wireless. A rap sounded on the open door and she turned as Gard placed her carry-on next to the mahogany armoire.

“Find everything you need okay?” Gard retreated to the threshold, as if not wanting to invade Jenna’s space.

“Yes, it’s great. After what you told me about the motel, you may have trouble getting rid of me.” Jenna indicated the room with a sweep of her arm. “This is beautiful.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. The wireless isn’t passworded.”

“Wireless?” Jenna sighed. “I may definitely have to move in.”

“Can you cook?” Gard stood with an arm braced against either side of the doorway, her hips canted to one side, a ghost of a smile flickering over her wide, sensuous mouth. Jenna had registered her attractiveness earlier—how could she not? Gard’s tight body and handsome features were impossible to miss. But she hadn’t caught the rush of sexual current until just now. Gard kept that power tamped down very effectively, and Jenna wondered why. And why Gard had dropped her shields now.

Jenna imagined herself naked, spread out on the canopy bed with Gard’s strong hips thrusting between her thighs, her palms sliding down Gard’s slick back, her will trapped by Gard’s hungry eyes. Jenna blinked, and across the room Gard’s mouth quirked, as if Gard were reading her thoughts. Jenna quickly averted her gaze. What was she doing? She’d just had an entire night of sex, very good sex at that, so why couldn’t she seem to stop thinking of it every time she caught a glimpse of her host?

“Can’t cook a thing,” Jenna said too quickly. Perfect. Just what she needed. To let Gard see her so off-balance. Getting a grip, she pasted on her practiced smile—the one she brought out for public appearances and casual liaisons.

“Well, you’re still welcome to stay. If there’s anything you need—”

“I can’t imagine wanting for anything here.”

“I don’t have guests very often.” Gard frowned. “Actually, I never have guests. The housekeeper is supposed to make sure the rooms are kept ready, but…” Gard shrugged. “I don’t actually check.”

Jenna sat on the end of the bed and wrapped her arm around the carved wooden bedpost. Leaning her head against it, she regarded Gard curiously. “This house isn’t your usual bachelor pad. And if you’re not into entertaining…”

Gard shifted her back against the doorway and crossed her legs at the ankle. Her blue workshirt stretched across her chest, clinging to the contours of her oval breasts, the seductive curves contrasting sharply with her hard-muscled body. A twist of desire struck so sharply Jenna almost gasped. God, her hormones were out of control.

“Never mind, I’m being intrusive.” Jenna hoped Gard would just go. Then she’d do a little work, settle herself down, and fall asleep. Without thinking of Gard or how good Gard’s body would feel covering hers.

“I saw the place and I loved it,” Gard said, obviously not interpreting Jenna’s message. “It’s got character, history, stories in every room.” Gard glanced around, her expression distant. “Being here is almost like living with a fascinating woman.”

“Really,” Jenna said softly. “And you don’t get lonely?”

“Always more to learn.”

“About the house or the woman?” Jenna wondered just who the woman was—and if she was real or imagined. The twinge of envy for any woman who might have captivated Gard’s attention surprised her, but Gard’s silence on the subject didn’t. After a moment, she said, “Well, that’s an amazing analogy. You have the soul of an artist.”

Gard snorted. “Hardly. I was raised to be—”

“Raised to be what?” Jenna said, more curious now. Talk about a fascinating woman. Gard was certainly that.

“Nothing. Nothing of consequence.”

Jenna recognized the familiar evasion. She spent her life creating stories, many inspired by snippets of conversation overheard in restaurants and airports, and from people passing by in the street. Her ability to capture those lost fragments and complete the picture was part nature, part cultivated skill. She didn’t need any special intuition to know Gard’s story was dark and painful, and though she wanted to know why, wanted to know her, she wouldn’t satisfy that need at the risk of hurting Gard.

“You’ve done so much for me today, tonight. Thank you,” Jenna said.

“You’re welcome.” Gard backed into the hall. “My room is across the hall. I’ll be heading out early, but the kitchen is stocked with food and coffee. If you wake up before I get back, help yourself.”

“I will.” Jenna hesitated. “Sweet dreams.”

Gard’s dark eyes flashed. “Thanks.”

Gard undressed in the dark, stripped back the covers, and fell into bed. She’d had no sleep the night before tending to Elizabeth Hardy’s remains, had driven a hundred miles from one farm to another during the day, and now had spent almost another entire night up with Jenna. Her body screamed to shut down, but her mind raced with thoughts of the woman in the room across the hall. The first woman she’d invited into her home. A total stranger who had opened doorways into a past she’d long left behind and reawakened memories she’d thought banished. Jenna Hardy. A woman she’d never heard of before eighteen hours ago. How had she let Jenna inside her carefully constructed defenses?

She was usually more careful. She never acted on impulse. She observed, she studied, she analyzed, and then she acted. She wasn’t affected by casual encounters, didn’t make instantaneous connections, and even when she had been young and willing to get involved with women, she’d made her choices with a clear head. She chose women who shared the same interests, espoused the same values, and populated the same social circles. Jenna was nothing like those women. They were all icy control. Jenna’s temper was quicksilver, her wit sharp and insightful. She was heat and passion, not cool intellect. Intelligent, to be sure, but a woman who appealed to the heart, not just the head.

And no one breached Gard’s heart. Not any longer. Gard rolled onto her side and punched her pillow, trying to get comfortable. Usually all she needed to do to fall asleep was get horizontal. She smelled dahlias and spice clinging to her skin, or maybe she just remembered the scent, but her thighs tensed. Damn it, even Jenna’s perfume was an aphrodisiac.

Sweet dreams.

Jenna’s voice lingered along with the flash of sexual interest she hadn’t wanted Gard to see. Jenna wasn’t the first woman to look at her that way, but she was the first woman Gard had responded to in the years since she’d left her previous life behind. She liked knowing she’d put that hunger in Jenna’s eyes. Sometime in the last few hours, Jenna Hardy—or Cassandra Hart, if there was even any difference between the two—had unlocked the chains on her desire, and that was warning enough to stay far away from her.

Chapter Nine

Jenna awoke to raucous bird chatter. She rolled over and peered at the bedside table, expecting to discover one of those alarm clocks that lulled you to sleep with the sounds of whale-speak and roused you with nature’s songs. She was wrong. A blue jay raced back and forth on the narrow ledge outside the partially open window across from her bed, his feathers ruffled to relay the urgency of his message. She’d opened the windows in the room last night, climbed into the high canopy bed intending to do a little work, and promptly fallen asleep with her computer propped in her lap. The bedside lamp still glowed, overpowered now by brilliant sunlight pouring through the multipaned glass. She’d had the presence of mind to change into an oversized T-shirt and cotton boxers before bed, so at least she’d had a good night’s sleep even if she had been half sitting up. Falling asleep over her computer was nothing new, but instead of waking up muzzy-headed and cramped, she was invigorated by the crisp, cool morning air. Taking a deep breath, she caught the pungent odor of fresh manure. She laughed, realizing even that fragrance was energizing. The jay kept up his rapid-fire patter, and she wondered if he had a lady bird nesting nearby, and if her own presence in the guest room threatened his fledgling family.

“I’m not going to bother your lady or her eggs,” she assured him.

She set the computer aside, stretched her injured knee, and peeked under the covers. The joint was swollen, a little black and blue, but much less painful than the night before. Carefully, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Hallelujah. She could put weight on it. She took a step. Stiff but functional. All systems go. Thank goodness. She did not enjoy the role of patient, even if Gard’s care made her feel special. She did not want to win a woman’s attentions flat on her back, unless by her own intention. And not under circumstances where she couldn’t repay the favors.

After a quick shower, she pulled on loose cotton pants and a ribbed tank top and settled at the antique desk with her computer, curling her good leg under her. She had a strong signal, and when she checked her cell phone, that was good too. Just knowing she could be connected to the outside world, her world, made her feel as if she was once more in charge of her life.

After scanning her mail and downloading several files from her editor, she logged out and called Alice.

“You were supposed to call me last night,” Alice said by way of greeting.

“I know, I’m sorry. Things came up and I never got around to it until it was way too late to call you.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I have no idea. I haven’t even made an appointment to see the attorney yet. I’ll know more after I see him.”

“What’s your number at the hotel?”

“I’m not there yet.”

Alice was silent for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not there yet?”

“I haven’t checked into the motel yet. And by the way, it’s not a hotel, it’s a motel. Who made these reservations?”

“Kerry, at the agency. The same person who always does.”

“Well, she should know better than to put me up in a motel. I’m not even sure they have room service.”

Alice laughed. “Honey, most people don’t spend twenty-four hours a day in their room when they stay in a hotel.”

“You know how much work I get done when I travel. Hotels are productive places for me, and I like to have everything I need available in my room.”

“I know. I know. I’ll double-check next time.” Alice was laughing and trying not to.

“Oh, stop. Besides, that’s not your job,” Jenna said. “I’m sorry. I’m being whiney. It’s just been a difficult couple of days.”

“I know. And you still haven’t told me where you are.”

“I’m at Gard’s.”

Another silence. “Guard? As in palace guard, off guard? What?”

“Gard as in Gardner Davis. She’s the vet—I mean the coroner—well, actually, she’s both. She’s the one who called me about Elizabeth.”

“I’m following so far, but what are you doing at her house at…seven thirty in the morning?”

“A better question is what I’m doing up at seven thirty in the morning,” Jenna muttered. She didn’t usually sleep more than a few hours a night, but after several days with almost none, she hadn’t expected to be up so early or feeling so…wonderful.

“You actually sound perky. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Jenna said hastily, wanting to downplay her time with Gard and not even knowing why. She wasn’t a kiss-and-tell kind of girl, but she didn’t keep her private life a deep dark secret, either. At least not from Alice.

“Not buying it. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Of course. She picked me up at the airport, and then with my leg, she thought it would be better if I stayed here—”

“I think you need to back up a little bit, sweetie. I’m still not on the same page as you.”

“I hurt my leg last night—”

“What! Tell me where you are. I’ll be there on the next flight.”

“I don’t need you to come up. I’m all right. Well, I’m a lot better, at least.”

“That’s not making me feel very good. Besides, I shouldn’t have let you go alone to begin with. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Really, Alice. I don’t need—”

“Jenna. I know Elizabeth was only a distant relative, but you’re dealing with some difficult issues here. I am your friend. That’s what friends do—lend a hand when things are tough.”

Jenna closed her eyes. Alice was her friend and not just her business manager, agent, publicist, cheerleader, and everything else. “I know how busy you are.”

“I’m not that busy, and after all, you’re my number one client.”

Jenna laughed. “Of course you can come up if you want to.”

“Give me the details again.”

“I’m in Little Falls. I’ll be checking into…hold on”—she dug around in her briefcase for a slip of paper—“the Leaf Peeper Inn.” She burst out laughing and Alice joined her. “I must really have been tired last night not to notice that.”

“You’re right,” Alice said, “I am going to have to discipline Kerry. What was she thinking? I’ll get our reservations switched to a real hotel. Now, how badly are you injured?”

“I only twisted my knee. It was swollen and tender last night, and it was late. Gard thought I should stay here, so I did.”

“Tell me about her.”

The protectiveness came surging back. More than protectiveness. Possessiveness. She didn’t want to tell Alice about Gard. Or the grand old house. Or the beautiful, funny dog. Or any of the things that had made last night almost magical. “There’s nothing to tell. She was just being helpful.”

“What did you say her name was again?”

“Gard. Gardner.”

“And the last name? Davis?”

“Yes. Why?”

“It’s ringing a bell, but I can’t quite get it clear. And she’s a vet, you say?”

“Yes,” Jenna said, her antennae quivering. “Alice, honestly, there’s no mystery here. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“I know.”

“And I really do intend to work. I’m going to get a jump on my next book while I deal with…whatever details have to be dealt with. There’s nothing for you to do up here and you’ll be bored.”

“When have I ever gotten in the way of you working?” Alice chuckled. “First of all, you never let anyone or anything get between you and a deadline. And besides that, why would I? My job is to keep you on schedule, not derail you.”

Jenna laughed. “Is that what you call all the nagging?”

“I didn’t hear that. Listen—I’ll come up and stay while you sort out your relative’s estate. I could use a break myself. I’ll…sightsee or go hiking or some such thing. Whatever people do up there this time of year.”

“I may have to go along just for the amusement factor.”

“What? I didn’t catch that.” Alice paused. “Is there some reason you don’t want company?”

“Of course not.” Jenna fought a surge of guilt for holding back the details she ordinarily would have shared. She wasn’t even sure where the reluctance came from. Alice was a huge part of her life—but the life she’d made for herself didn’t seem to extend into the remote reaches of this sleepy valley. For the first time since she’d left Lancaster County as a teenager, she felt the absence of the protective façade she’d created in New York City, and the realization made her uneasy. “You know what? I’d love it if you came up. We can play tourist together. I could use a little playtime.”

“Wonderful.” Alice’s voice softened. “I look forward to it. See you soon.”

“Yes. See you soon.”

Jenna tilted her head back and closed her eyes. The house was silent, but a dog barked in the distance, an ecstatic staccato cadence. Beam, probably. She smiled to herself, thinking of the exuberant animal. More birds joined the vociferous jay, and a symphony of song floated through the window. Somewhere a cow lowed in counterpoint to a tractor’s rumble. The breeze danced over her skin, bringing memories of sultry nights, rich earth beneath her bare feet, and the promise of a summer of freedom. When was the last time she’d ever believed that kind of freedom existed? Long before that last summer. Jenna sat up, suddenly glad Alice was on her way. Alice would arrive and life would settle back to normal. Safe and secure and with no surprises.

“Do you think it’s a hernia?” Katie Pritchard fidgeted outside the stall, her pretty Irish features twisted in worry. Her blue eyes darted between her stallion and Gard.

“No.” Gard carefully palpitated the swollen scrotum while keeping on the lookout for an errant rear hoof. Windstorm was high-strung and irascible under the best of circumstances, and now, in pain, he was completely unpredictable. “This kind of rapid swelling is more often trauma. Did Faerie Queen kick him?”

“Not that I saw, but there’s been a lot of teasing going on. She might have.”

“He could have an infection, or the testicle could be twisted.” Gard didn’t feel the stone-hard sign of impending testicular necrosis usually present with a torsion, though. “I’ll start him on some antibiotics. Try to keep him quiet and if he’s not better by tonight, we’ll ultrasound him.”

“God, Gard. If I lose his stud fees, I’ll be out half my income.”

“I know.” Gard straightened and squeezed Katie’s shoulder sympathetically. The young horsewoman was a regular on Gard’s route—hardworking, bright, and a respected breeder. Still, the life of a rancher was hard, physically and emotionally, and Gard hated to see her in trouble. “Try not to worry. I’m being aggressive because I want to be sure he keeps performing for you.”

“Thanks,” Katie said, relief evident in the softening of her smile.

Gard hefted her kit and stole a peek at her watch. Only eight. Jenna was probably still asleep. Hopefully one of them had gotten some rest. She sure hadn’t, not just because she’d had less than four hours before the alarm went off, but because she kept replaying various moments with Jenna. Jenna intrigued her. She was strong and vulnerable, soft and sexy. Her stubborn insistence on doing everything without help, the snap of temper making her green eyes sparkle, the exhaustion she refused to give in to—everything about Jenna stirred her up. She hadn’t ever expected a woman to do that to her again.

“Everything okay, Gard?” Katie asked.

“Hmm?”

Katie nodded at Gard’s chest. “You all right?”

Gard flushed, realizing she’d been rubbing the spot in the center of her chest where she still felt the heat of Jenna’s body cradled in her arms. She quickly dropped her hand. “Fine. Let me set up a couple more doses of antibiotics for Windstorm. Call me later with an update, all right?”

“I will. Absolutely.” Katie hesitated, as if she were going to say something else, then blushed and turned away.

Gard stored her equipment and prepared the medication to leave with Katie. She’d read the interest in Katie’s eyes and wanted to avoid any awkwardness. She liked Katie and she didn’t want to complicate their friendship. Yesterday she would have said her lack of interest was just that—sex or romance or just plain pleasure with a woman hadn’t been on her agenda for a very long time. Today she felt differently, and the reason for the change was at home, asleep in her guest room.

Famished and in dire need of caffeine, Jenna grabbed her laptop and went in search of sustenance. The kitchen, a huge room occupying the entire back of the main house, was everything she expected it to be. Although all the appliances were new, they were designed in a traditional country style—a freestanding cast-iron stove with gas burners, a warming drawer, and a big baking oven cozied up to a white enamel refrigerator with chrome handles that could have been transported from the early 1900s. Wood counters topped sage and cream cabinets with inset drawers and glass-paned doors. An oak plank trestle table with benches on either side stood on the natural slate floor in front of an open-hearth brick fireplace that took up the whole wall at one end of the room.

The coffeepot was easy to find. Fortunately, it was a simple electric drip, and the stainless steel canisters lined up in a neat row nearby were precisely labeled Espresso, French Roast, and Decaf. She couldn’t see Gard as a decaf kind of person, not after hearing about how the vet often worked all night, several nights in a row. She’d drunk regular coffee at the diner at two in the morning. No, the decaf was probably for guests. Overnight guests? The thought of someone else coming downstairs, making coffee in the morning after having slept in Gard’s bed, bothered her. Then she remembered that Gard said she didn’t have guests. Maybe she didn’t consider dates in the same category.

“As if who she dates should matter to me,” Jenna muttered, watching the French Roast drip into the pot and willing it to hurry. She searched the cabinets and found a heavy white ceramic mug. Comfortable in her hand, no-frills, solid and dependable. She carried it and her laptop to the table in front of a row of double-hung windows. Like those in her bedroom, these were open, and cotton curtains with pale cream stripes the same color as the cabinets fluttered into the room. Outside, rolling pastures lush with green grass stretched to the foothills of the pine forests.

When the coffee was done she dosed it with milk she found in the refrigerator and went back to the view. A spacious back porch complete with Adirondack chairs and a small table looked inviting, but she resisted the urge to explore. She really ought to work. The new publisher wanted three linked romances with release dates six weeks apart. Romance always sold well, but during prolonged periods of economic stress or global strife, they sold even better. Now readers were looking for comfort, as well as passion and excitement, and the small-town setting was enjoying a resurgence. She could understand why.

Contemporaries, though, were not her usual thing. All the same, she could do it. She’d reinvented herself more than once—on and off the page. She just needed a hook—something—someone—to make hearts flutter. An image of Gard in dusty jeans and a sweat-dampened shirt astride a big bay, her skin golden in the summer sun, instantly came to mind. God, she could be on the cover of one of her books, she was so gorgeous. And damn it if her heart didn’t do a little dance.

“Oh for crying out loud. Time to get a grip.” Jenna turned away from the entrancing view and her distracting daydreams and sat down at her computer. Taking a sip of her cooling coffee, she stepped into her past and started to type.

She had no trouble conjuring both the appeal and the stifling familiarity of a tight-knit community, where everyone knew your secrets but pretended they didn’t. The people in line at the drugstore knew your name, and if you were buying condoms or pregnancy tests, they noticed. And talked about it. For the past decade, the last thing she’d wanted to think about was small-town living, where corruption existed side by side with friendship and fierce loyalty. Now she thought about the girl she’d been, and the woman she had become, and how things might have been different then if she hadn’t been so alone.

The crunch of gravel beneath car tires disrupted the soothing backdrop of birdsong and rustling leaves as effectively as a ringing telephone or doorbell. Gard was back. Jenna automatically clicked Save, anticipatory excitement stirring. Standing, she glanced at the clock above the refrigerator, surprised to find she’d been working for over three hours. 11:15 a.m. Hadn’t Gard said she’d be back around noon?

She should probably pack. She’d meant to do that earlier and then gotten sidetracked by sudden inspiration. Gard probably didn’t have much time and would want to take her to the motel, glad to dispense with her responsibilities and her unexpected houseguest. For just a minute, Jenna was sorry to be leaving. She understood now why Gard had likened the house to a woman. She felt not just welcomed by the beautiful old house, but embraced amidst the sunshine and the burgeoning earth and the trill of birds. She laughed wistfully—she’d never actually experienced such communion with a lover and wondered if Gard had. She imagined Gard waking up in the arms of a woman on a lazy summer day, sated and peaceful, surrounded by all this splendor, and a twinge of jealousy shot a red flag straight into the heart of her musings.

She snapped her laptop closed, as if that could banish her dangerous thoughts. “Definitely time to go.”

Chapter Ten

A knock sounded at the front door and Jenna wondered if she should answer. Obviously whoever had arrived wasn’t Gard. Well, why not answer? She had several perfectly good reasons for being in Gard’s house—even if the thoughts she’d been entertaining about her host the last few minutes had been anything but businesslike.

“Hi, can I help you?” she asked when she pulled open the door.

A woman in a khaki sheriff’s uniform stood on the porch, her legs slightly spread, her hands on her hips. She didn’t say anything as she took her time assessing Jenna, her bold dark brows drawn low over wary blue eyes. Jenna was used to being the focus of attention, although this perusal was more intense and unapologetic than the shy glances of her readers. She waited for the woman to speak, and while she did, she made her own survey.

The woman filled out the uniform very, very nicely—the shining Sam Browne belt accentuated the subtle flare of hips and the swell of ample breasts and broad shoulders above a long waist. The sharply creased trousers were not tight, but tailored to fit muscled thighs. She was pretty in an earthy, sensual way. Sultry eyes, full lips, and a wide, generous mouth.

“Is Gard home?” The woman’s voice was resonant and warm, as voluptuous as her body.

“No, but I expect she will be soon,” Jenna said.

The woman extended her hand. Her grip was strong but not challenging.

“Sheriff Rina Gold.”

“Cassandra Hart,” Jenna answered automatically, as she usually did in situations where she didn’t know the individual. She spent most of her life as Cassandra. Her editors, her publicist, and her public all called her Cassandra. Only Alice called her Jenna. Well, Alice and now Gard.

“Cassandra Hart,” the sheriff repeated, sounding surprised. Then she smiled, really smiled, and the heat that had been simmering under the closed gaze flared. “I like your books. In fact, you’re one of my favorite authors.”

Jenna smiled. “Thank you.”

“Might you also be Jenna Hardy?”

“Oh, yes, sorry—I guess I just assumed you’d make the connection. I don’t know why.” Jenna gestured to the house behind her. “I suppose because I’m here. Why else would I be?”

“Well, hell could have frozen over and Gard might have…” Rina grimaced, swept off her wide-brimmed Smokey-style hat, and brushed her forearm over her damp brow. “Never mind. Out of line there.”

She gave Jenna another long look, and the question in her eyes said the sheriff had a bit more than casual interest in Gard. Jenna considered how she must appear to the sheriff—barefoot, her hair a little tangled from her shower, and alone in the house when Gard wasn’t home. She probably looked like more than a casual guest, but she wasn’t about to discuss her relationship with Gard with the sheriff.

“Sorry about the wasted trip,” Jenna said.

“Not at all,” Rina said. “I would have wanted to meet you anyhow. My condolences about Elizabeth. Everyone in town knew and liked her.”

“I wish I’d had a chance to meet her.” Jenna doubted she would have made the effort had she simply discovered the presence of a great-great-aunt under other circumstances, but now she’d been drawn into Elizabeth’s world and she was curious about her. “Do you need me to do anything today? I was going to check in at the hotel—motel—and then make an appointment with the attorney. Is there something I should—”

“No, there’s nothing pressing. The coroner—that being Gard, which I guess you know—will provide you with a death certificate. Sherman Potter, Elizabeth’s attorney, will guide you through the rest of the paperwork. I do need to know what you want to do about securing the house.”

Jenna let the screen door close behind her and settled into one of the rockers on the porch. The sheriff leaned against the white railing opposite her, her arms braced on either side of her hips. The posture accentuated her breasts and Jenna appreciated again how attractive she was. She wondered if the sheriff and Gard had ever dated. Were still dating. Just as quickly, she reminded herself again that Gard’s personal business was none of hers. “I’m sorry. What do you mean, secure the house?”

“I’m sure the crime rate around here isn’t what you’re used to in the city, but we do have our share of vandals. Elizabeth has some pricey farm equipment in the barns, and an empty house is going to be an invitation for someone to break in. If you’re planning on selling, the real estate agent may be able to advise you as to the best way to protect the place. In the meantime, I’ll try to have a car sweep by Birch Hill at least once a night.”

Jenna rubbed a spot between her eyes that had started to twinge. She hadn’t even thought about the house or its contents or what she would do about the property.

“How much property are we talking about?”

Rina shrugged. “The attorney will pull the deeds for you if he doesn’t already have them, but I think Elizabeth’s place runs about a couple hundred acres or so. Used to be a pretty big dairy farm with a few hundred head of Guernseys, but Elizabeth hasn’t done anything on that scale in over twenty years. The house and barns are in pretty good shape. She’s still got a few cows, the stray chicken, an old donkey or two.”

“Cows and donkeys and chickens.” Jenna stared at the sheriff. “What does one do with them besides milk them or eat them?”

The sheriff laughed, a clear, melodic laugh that made Jenna think of water rushing in a crystal brook. Oh, yes, she was very attractive. Funny, though, the sheriff’s lush good looks seemed to pale in comparison to Gard’s. And we’re not going there again, are we?

“Pretend I’m clueless,” Jenna said, “which obviously I am.”

“They’re probably pets at this point,” Rina said, still smiling, “None of them would be much for eating unless you were desperate.”

“I can see this is going to be a lot more involved than I thought. I’ll have to look at the house after talking to the attorney. I suppose I can get an agent to handle the sale of the estate.” Jenna rubbed her eyes. “What about the animals? Will they be all right without someone there?”

Rina’s face registered surprise and then what might have been respect. “I asked a couple of the neighbors to look after them, but you’ll want to decide what to do about them too.”

“Of course. Thanks for doing that.” One thing Jenna knew about country folk—even the laziest, most irresponsible among them—would pitch in to help a neighbor in need, because community was more than a concept. People were raised knowing the next person in trouble might be them. “I still can’t really believe I’m here. I have no idea why Elizabeth left all of this to me.”

“Elizabeth was no fool. She must have had a reason. Maybe intuition.”

“Intuition. I guess we’ll find out.” Jenna grinned wryly just as the roar of an engine cut through the quiet and a truck tore down the lane, spewing gravel and leaving a cloud of dust behind it. Gard slammed to a stop beside the sheriff’s cruiser and jumped out, leaving the door ajar as she sprinted toward the house. Beam shot out after her and raced in circles around Gard’s long legs.

“Jenna,” Gard charged up the four steps to the porch two at a time, “are you all right?”

“Yes.” Jenna rose carefully on her sore leg, feeling unaccustomedly shy. Beam skidded to a stop between her and Rina, her butt rotating as her tail cut wild figure eights in the air. Jenna scratched behind the dog’s ears and used the diversion to enjoy her first look at Gard in daylight. She’d been gorgeous by moonlight. She was heart-stopping now in dusty jeans cut low on lean hips, scuffed boots, and a blue work shirt unbuttoned to the middle of her flat abdomen. The white T-shirt underneath hugged the shadow of her breasts like the snow capping the distant peaks—alluring and ever so remote. Her thick black hair lay in damp swirls on the tanned skin at the back of her neck. Jenna’s throat went suddenly dry. “I’m fine.”

“Okay. Good. That’s good. I saw the cruiser…” Gard slid her hands into her back pockets and rocked on her heels. “What’s going on?”

Rina said, “I’ve just been talking to Ms. Hardy about making arrangements for Elizabeth’s place.”

“I realize now there’s more to it than signing a few papers,” Jenna said. “The house can wait, but I want to make sure the animals—”

“I’ll take care of that,” Gard said. “I was planning to run out there and check on them after we got you settled at the motel.”

“No,” Jenna said quickly. “You don’t need to. You’ve been wonderful, but I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do with your own job.”

Rina’s gaze swiveled between Gard and Jenna as if she were waiting for the serve on match point in the finals of a Grand Slam tennis tournament. “I’m heading back through town. If you need a ride—”

“I’ll take her,” Gard said forcefully.

“If the sheriff is going that way—” Jenna protested.

“It’s no trouble.” Gard paced a few steps and fixed Jenna with an intense stare. “We can run by the Hardy place on the way. See what might need to be done before you talk to Sherm.”

Jenna couldn’t argue the logic, but she still wanted to. She didn’t let anyone take charge of her life, not even Alice. Alice was her detail woman, true, and she did more than organize her schedule. Alice was the wall between Jenna and the rest of the world, the buffer between her and the outside forces that disrupted her concentration and made it hard for her to work. Alice wielded more power than Jenna had ever granted anyone, even her occasional serious lovers, but not even Alice crossed beyond the barriers Jenna had erected around her body and her soul.

Gard Davis didn’t even seem to recognize those barriers, or if she did, she didn’t care. She shouldered past them, steamrolled over them, while insisting on being part of Jenna’s life as if Jenna had no say whatsoever. The intrusion irritated her, but she resisted the urge to argue, and not just because she didn’t want to expose herself in front of Rina Gold. Part of her, maybe a bigger part than she wanted to face right now, liked Gard’s arrogant chivalry. She would never have asked for Gard’s help, but Gard didn’t seem to need an invitation.

Until this moment, Alice had been the only one in her life who put her first, who cared about her welfare more than about what she could get from pretending to care for her. For all of that, Alice had never looked at her with the consuming intensity Gard did. Alice loved her as a friend, and sometimes, possibly—more. But even Alice didn’t care for the fragile places in her heart because Jenna didn’t let her. If she had, she knew Alice would be there for her. She wasn’t offering those vulnerable places to Gard, either, but Gard didn’t seem to need permission to cross boundaries. She just did it. Jenna had never really met anyone like her before.

“You’re sure you have time?” Jenna asked. Spending a little more time with Gard wasn’t exactly a hardship, especially when the alternative was sitting in the motel.

“Positive.” Gard jiggled her truck keys in her pants pockets while watching the war wage across Jenna’s face. She thought she knew why. Jenna was independent, even more independent than the farmers and ranchers she bumped shoulders with every day in the quiet countryside. She hadn’t thought there could be anyone more independent than these people who prided themselves on doing for themselves and living by their own rules. But Jenna was. She didn’t want help from anyone, as if help were a sign of weakness. As if letting anyone ease her way would somehow lessen her. She had shadows under her eyes this morning, and although she probably wasn’t even aware of it, she was favoring her injured leg. Strain lines marred the smooth skin around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth. She was exhausted and in pain but ignoring both. Knowing that made Gard’s insides twist and her chest hurt. She wanted to take away that pain. She’d never had the desire, the need, to do that with another woman. The strangeness of it jangled her nerves. “Look, we should get going.”

“All right. Fine.” Jenna knew she sounded ungracious, but God, the woman taxed her patience.

“I’ll get your things when you’re ready,” Gard said, needing to move. Needing to do something to burn off the restless energy that was always with her but magnified a thousand times in Jenna’s presence. She wanted to touch her. She wanted to catch the scent of flowers and sweet spice again. “Then we’ll head into town so you can get settled in at the motel.”

“I want to see the Hardy property first,” Jenna said.

“Your call.”

“I’ll go pack.” Jenna held out her hand to the sheriff. “It was nice to meet you. Thank you for the help at Elizabeth’s.”

“Anything you need while you’re here, just let me know,” Rina said. “I take it, then, you’ll be staying a few days?”

“It sounds like I’ll need more than just a few days,” Jenna said. “Maybe a few weeks.”

“Really,” the sheriff said dryly, her gaze shifting to Gard.

Curiosity flickered in the sheriff’s eyes, and Jenna wondered what misconception the sheriff had about her and Gard. If she thought the two of them were anything other than acquaintances, she was way off base. She and Gard had nothing in common and practically everything at odds. If anything, the sheriff should have noticed that they could barely have a conversation without irritating each other. Besides, she should hardly pose a threat to a beautiful woman like Rina Gold, who obviously had more than just a friendly interest in the local vet. Jenna had no trouble at all imagining Gard and Rina together, and the instant she did, the flare of possessiveness hit her so hard she almost gasped out loud. This wasn’t like her. She just wasn’t the possessive type. She rarely indulged in a relationship long enough to have any feelings for her dates other than fondness. Jealousy? Never. Possessiveness? Irrelevant. She hadn’t even kissed Gard Davis, and the thought of another woman touching her made her blood run hot.

“I’ll just need a few minutes. Good-bye, Sheriff.” Jenna quickly ducked inside, needing to put distance between herself and Gard. And Rina Gold. Whatever was between Gard and the beautiful sheriff did not concern her.

As she climbed the stairs as quickly as her aching knee allowed, leaving Gard alone with Rina, she refused to consider why every step she took was more difficult than plodding through quicksand.

Chapter Eleven

“How’s the knee?” Gard asked when they were settled in the front seat of her truck.

“Much better.” Jenna rolled down the window as Gard pulled out onto the road. The thick, sultry air felt more like July than June, the kind of hot, hazy day she associated with skinny-dipping in placid ponds, hiding away in the shade of a huge maple with a book, and relaxing in twilights resonant with the sound of distant thunder. She’d lost touch with those pleasures all these years living in the city, where the summer brought only the pungent stench of automobile fumes, trash left out too long, and throngs of humanity coursing over the steaming sidewalks like schools of fish fleeing for their lives.

“Sorry there’s no air-conditioning,” Gard said.

“Don’t be. I hate it.”

“Me too.” Gard slowed as a string of geese with goslings scampering behind waddled haphazardly across the road. “You might feel differently in August, though.”

“I can remember putting ice cubes on my chest to fall asleep some summer nights,” Jenna said, laughing.

“Inventive.” Gard imagined Jenna as she would appear now, nude in the moonlight with trails of cool clear water streaming between her breasts and over the curve of her abdomen to pool on the soft white sheets tangled around her hips. Her skin gleamed with reflections of starlight and Gard saw herself leaning down to brush her mouth over the glimmering diamond ice chips. Lust kicked in her belly and she jerked her thoughts away from the fantasy. “I notice you forgot the immobilizer today.”

“You do realize it’s hateful?”

“I’ve had the pleasure.” Gard smiled.

“Then you know why I’m not wearing it.” Jenna liked Gard’s smile, the way her lips canted up at one corner, softening the angular planes of her face and hinting at a dark sensuality she found hard to ignore. Gard had changed while in the house, and now she wore a pressed button-down tucked into charcoal work pants. Her boots were still the same low-heeled scuffed farm boots, and a tooled brown belt encircled her waist. Her wrists and hands below the rolled-up sleeves of the crisp white shirt were faintly corded and darkly tanned. If she hadn’t seen Gard’s elegant, stately house, she might have been surprised at the pressed and starched shirt. Gard had to be sending her shirts out to be done. Not exactly what she would have expected from the usual country vet, but nothing thus far was ordinary about Gard. She remembered Alice’s comment that Gard’s name had rung a bell.

“Where are you from?”

The smile disappeared and Gard’s jaw tightened. Another sensitive spot for the enigmatic doctor—so attentive one second, and so distant the next. Someone else might not have noticed, but Jenna made it her business to notice the small details that revealed feelings and moods. She’d learned to watch people for the subtle signs of tempers about to snap after the first time a hand she hadn’t seen coming had struck out and landed on her face. Darlene hadn’t resorted to physical violence very often, but once had been enough to teach Jenna to be vigilant. She’d been lucky. She’d taken those lessons and turned them around, just like she’d turned her life around, and made them into something she could trust. She’d become an expert people watcher. Being a writer, much of what she conveyed about her characters was through the nuances of expression, and she’d learned to trust the signals others gave off unconsciously. She had to if she wanted to be safe.

“Touchy subject?” Jenna was suddenly sorry she’d brought up something that stirred a painful memory. “Never mind. I shouldn’t pry.”

Gard took a deep breath, obviously trying to force herself to relax. “You’re not prying. It’s a simple question.”

“Not always, and I should know better.” Jenna suspected Gard never truly relaxed and wondered what haunted her. She seemed to be the kind of person who needed to be moving, maybe because there was something she was trying to outrun. Impulsively, Jenna rested her hand on Gard’s forearm and squeezed, finding the muscles beneath her fingers more like steel than flesh. She rubbed her palm up and down over the soft cotton, knowing some pain couldn’t be soothed with a simple touch, but needing to try all the same. She didn’t want Gard to hurt. “It’s not important. The past is the past.”

Gard turned her head, her smoky eyes as impenetrable as a dead fire. “Is it? Is yours?”

“Long dead and buried,” Jenna said.

“Is it hard for you, then, having a relative like Elizabeth suddenly appear in your life?”

“You are astute, Dr. Davis,” Jenna murmured, surprised at Gard’s perceptiveness. “I didn’t say everyone in my past was dead and buried, did I?”

“You ask questions but you don’t say much about yourself.” Gard lifted her shoulder, her gaze moving between Jenna and the road she could probably drive with her eyes closed. “The quintessential observer who keeps her secrets to herself.”

“I’m not alone in that.” Jenna delighted that Gard could read her, even as yet another warning pealed. Gard could read her, and that wasn’t a good thing. “You do realize you’ve completely diverted the conversation from my original question?”

“Have I?” Gard slowed and turned onto yet another hard-packed dirt road. This one was lined on either side with fences, pastureland, and copses of thick birches. As they rounded a curve, a homestead came into view.

“Oh! Is that it?” Jenna’s heart raced.

“That would be Birch Hill.”

“It’s beautiful.”

A rambling pale yellow farmhouse that had been added on to many times over the centuries, if the varying roof heights and façade details were any indication, sat on a slight knoll shaded by huge maples and slender white birches. Several weathered gray barns were visible behind the house and a fat round silo jutted into the skyline between them. A broad porch with plain square-capped columns and no railing circled the front of the house and ran along both sides as far as she could see. Where Gard’s home was a grand manor house, this was every inch a traditional New England farmstead.

“They don’t come any finer than this place.” Gard slowed even more as they approached the house, waiting for the golden-feathered chickens to peck their way out of the path of the truck.

“Rina said there were cows. Are those going to wander out next?”

Gard laughed, a deep resonant laugh that stirred an echoing rumble in Jenna’s depths. God, she was sexy.

“They ought to be in the back pasture.”

“What about the donkeys?”

“Fred and Myrtle have their own shelter on the other side of the back barn. As long as they’ve got food and water, they should be fine. I’ll check on them before we go.”

Gard turned off the truck and Jenna sat, her hands loosely clasped in her lap, surveying what was now, apparently, hers. The place couldn’t be more different from where she had grown up. The trailer park had been situated in a hollow, shaded by the rise of surrounding mountains, damp in the spring, hot and humid and bug-ridden in the summer, barren in the fall, and bitterly cold in the winter. She doubted that everything here was as beautiful as it appeared on this crystal June morning, but she knew she would always remember it this way. Tranquil and still and lovely, steeped in the indolent passage of time. She itched to write.

“This is a house meant for romance,” she murmured.

“You think?” Gard said softly.

Jenna flushed. “Sorry. Some places just beg for a story.”

“What about people? Do they do the same thing?”

Jenna shifted to put her back against the door. “Not always. Sometimes the story’s better left untold.”

“What about yours?”

Jenna shook her head. “No. Mine isn’t interesting.”

“More so than you think, I imagine.” Gard leaned over the space between them, her body slanting above Jenna’s, and braced her arm on the door beside Jenna’s shoulder. Her face was so close their mouths nearly met. Her arm caged Jenna in.

Gard was going to kiss her and she was going to let her.

Jenna blinked and caught herself before she could gasp aloud. Gard hadn’t moved. She slouched behind the wheel, one arm casually tossed over it, her expression curious.

“Are you okay?” Gard asked.

“Yes, perfect,” Jenna said, too fast she knew. Her imagination was on hyperdrive and had been since she got off the plane. Her usual boundaries were distorted, as if her trip from the city to the country had somehow reset her inner compass. She needed to be more careful. She needed to reroute the conversation to safer ground. “I guess I should take a look around. I need to have some idea what to tell the realtor. And I want to be certain the animals are being properly cared for.”

“Let’s go.”

“Do you have keys? I never thought—”

“I took Elizabeth’s, but the door isn’t locked.”

Jenna arched her brows. “Isn’t that a little reckless?”

Gard shoved open her door. “Not really. Wait for me, I’ll come around.”

Jenna didn’t plan to wait, but when she opened her door and considered the drop from the truck to the ground, she hesitated. She couldn’t risk re-injuring her knee. In another day she would be completely mobile again. When Gard appeared, Jenna rested a hand on Gard’s shoulder and let Gard slip an arm around her waist and lift her to the ground. She might get used to the lady-of-the-manor routine. The whimsical idea made her laugh.

Gard relaxed her hold but didn’t move away. Their shoulders and thighs touched. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jenna said, barely resisting the urge to bury her face in the curve of Gard’s neck. Gard smelled of soap and sunshine. Simple, strong. The sun glinted in her hair, gilding the ebony curls on her neck, and a fine mist of sweat sheened her skin, tempting Jenna to taste the salt and heat of her. Jenna took a step back. She’d need a lot more than a few feet to ensure immunity to Gard’s appeal, but she would damn well find a way to resist. She wasn’t against a healthy roll in the proverbial hay—she almost laughed again when she considered the barns nearby, no doubt full of the stuff—but Gard already made her mind cloudy and they hadn’t even kissed. She wasn’t risking full-out sex with a woman who wouldn’t keep her distance.

“If you don’t lock the door, aren’t you inviting vandals?” Jenna stepped carefully around the chickens on her way to the house.

“If someone wants to get in, they’ll break a window. Why create false barriers that don’t keep anyone out and prevent the ones who should have access from getting in?”

Jenna wondered for a moment if they were still talking about the house, but they must be. What else would they be talking about?

“Doing okay?” Gard turned on lights as they slowly traversed the first floor, checking that windows were closed and the gas turned off in the big six-burner cast-iron stove in the kitchen, where their journey ended. The kitchen resembled Gard’s in the same way a vintage Rolls resembled a sleek new Mercedes. All the classic elements with an added touch of grace. The solid oak cabinets were fronted with beveled-glass doors and cut-glass knobs. The pie safe and hutch had carved lion’s-feet legs. The oak plank floors were worn down in front of the sink and counters from generations of cooks shuttling back and forth. Bright rag rugs were strategically placed in front of the back door that led in from a wide porch overlooking the back forty and barns. The spacious heart of the house was neat and tidy and had clearly been lived in, and lived in well.

“I feel a little like an intruder,” Jenna said. “Did you know her very well?”

“Not personally, not really.” Gard rested her hand on Jenna’s shoulder. “I saw her in town and stopped out here occasionally when her stock were ailing. If it helps, she seemed happy and content.”

Jenna leaned into Gard’s steady presence, folding her arms beneath her breasts. “She…died peacefully, you think?”

“I do.”

“Good.” Jenna squeezed Gard’s hand. “I guess we should check upstairs before we go. Make sure all the windows are closed and things like that.”

“All right. Then we’ll take a look at the stock.”

The stair treads dipped in the center from years of passage. A wide hall with a faded oriental runner bisected the house, with rooms opening on either side. Jenna peeked into a room with a double sleigh bed, dressers covered with personal effects, and a cane rocker with a wicker basket of knitting beside it. Elizabeth’s bedroom. A colorful handmade quilt covered the bed, smooth and neatly tucked at the corners. She wondered who had straightened it and glanced at Gard, who shook her head.

“Probably one of the neighbors came in,” Gard said. “I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking of it when I was here.”

“Of course you weren’t.” Jenna smiled at Gard. “You were seeing to Elizabeth. I’m glad it was you.”

Gard’s chest tightened at the sadness in Jenna’s voice. She’d grown pale again, and her limp was more pronounced. When Jenna turned her head, Gard caught the shimmer of tears glistening on her lashes and reacted instinctively. She clasped Jenna’s shoulders and drew her into her arms. Cupping the back of Jenna’s neck, she guided Jenna’s head against her shoulder and held her. “You’ve had a pretty rough few days. Why don’t we leave the rest of this for another time.”

“Sorry, just give me a second,” Jenna whispered.

“Long as you need.” Gard held her breath and would have stopped her heart if she could—anything not to break the spell of having Jenna in her arms. Jenna’s heart beat against her chest and warm breath fluttered over her throat. She felt as if she were holding a fragile work of art that might shatter at any second, even though she knew Jenna was neither fragile nor a priceless object. She was a flesh-and-blood woman, strong and stubborn and self-sufficient. Still, she wanted to shelter Jenna in a way that was completely new to her. The urge was so intense she shuddered with the force of it.

Jenna ran her hands up and down Gard’s back, drawing her fingers along the edges of the muscles bracketing her spine. “I’m all right.”

“I know,” Gard murmured. Blood pumped like oil from an uncapped well into her belly and pounded between her thighs. She was hard and swollen, her nipples rigid. She tightened her thighs to keep from rocking her pelvis into Jenna’s. She was just a little bit taller than Jenna, and they fit together perfectly. She gritted her teeth when moist warm lips skated over her neck.

“You taste like a summer afternoon,” Jenna whispered. “I knew you would.”

“Jenna,” Gard groaned. She didn’t want to let her go, but if she didn’t, she was going to kiss her, and that would be a mistake for more reasons than she could count. Jenna made a small sound in the back of her throat, half whimper, half want, and Gard’s control slipped. She skimmed her hand from Jenna’s hair over her neck, along the curve of her shoulder, to the swell of her breast.

“Mmm, yes.” Jenna sighed, her breath a hot wind blowing through Gard’s blood.

When Jenna trembled, Gard snapped back to reality as if she’d been doused in cold water. She had no business touching this woman. Certainly not here, not now. She clasped Jenna’s shoulders again and eased away until their bodies no longer touched. “Jenna, I’m sorry.”

Jenna’s eyes went from hazy to crystal clear in a heartbeat. “No need to apologize. I’m here too, remember?”

“I just wanted to—”

“It doesn’t matter. Shall we finish up?”

“Sure,” Gard said, a muscle jumping along her jaw.

Jenna strode off before the flush creeping up her chest above her low-cut tank top gave her away. God, she’d lasted all of two seconds up close and personal with Gard before totally losing her sanity. She loved the way Gard’s tight body molded to hers, and the way she tasted. Rich and tangy and oh God, she was so wet now just thinking about it. She needed to get out of the house. She needed to remember her Number One Rule. Never go to bed with a woman she couldn’t control. This meltdown was proof enough that woman wasn’t Gard Davis.

“This ought to be the last.” Jenna pushed open the door to a room at the back of the house and stopped so fast Gard’s front brushed her back and warm breath stirred the fine hairs on her neck. Just what she so didn’t need—more stimulation from Gard, accidental or otherwise. She almost leapt into the twenty-by forty-foot room to put distance between them. Light washed through three skylights and a bank of windows that hadn’t been visible from the front of the house. An easel stood in the center of the room, and at least two dozen canvases rested in stacks along one wall. This was an artist’s studio, and an active one, judging by the number of canvases. “I didn’t realize Elizabeth was a painter.”

“Neither did I.” Gard frowned, walking around Jenna to look at the painting on the easel. “I’ve never heard anyone mention it.”

Jenna followed and studied a nearly completed painting. A bold sunset rendered impressionistic with thick slashes of bright primary colors highlighted a craggy mountain range. The perspective was that of someone looking down from a great height, and Jenna had the instant sensation of flying. “I’m no expert, but this seems very good.”

Gard removed a canvas from one of the stacks and held it out at arm’s length. Another impressionistic view of mountains and this time, a starlit sky. “I feel like I’m lying on my back in a field and the sky is rotating over my head. Jesus. I can’t believe I left the house unlocked with these in here.” She carefully set the painting back. “You’re going to need an expert to appraise these, but I have a feeling they’re going to be worth something.”

“Well, if they are, they’re going in a museum.”

“You might want to find out what they’re worth before you decide not to sell them.”

Jenna shook her head vigorously. “No. This is her legacy. This is her life. Look around you.”

Gard looked at Jenna, her eyes contemplative. “Maybe she knew you’d understand.”

“You don’t think this is why she left all of this to me?” Jenna said. “Could she have known I’m a writer?”

“Why not? You don’t keep your given name a secret, do you?”

“Not exactly, but I don’t use it professionally.” Jenna didn’t want to explain that everything she owned was held by Cassandra Hart Enterprises. In the unlikely event Darlene ever wanted to find her, it would be damn difficult. Not impossible, but difficult. Fortunately, her phone sounded with Alice’s ring tone, and she gratefully turned away to answer. “Hi.”

“Hi, sweetie,” Alice said. “I have plane reservations for tomorrow morning. I’ve rented a car and I’ve got GPS and God willing, I won’t end up in Canada. Will you be okay until then?”

“I’ll be great.” Jenna laughed, incredibly relieved to hear from Alice. Now maybe life would get back to normal. “Call me when you get in, and I’ll let you know where we can meet.”

“I will. What are you doing?”

“We’re at Elizabeth’s, checking the house.”

“We?”

“Yes.”

“That would be you and Gard Davis?”

“Yes,” Jenna said, lowering her voice even though she knew Gard couldn’t hear Alice’s side of the conversation.

“She’s more than just a country vet, Jenna. Be careful.”

“I can’t talk right now,” Jenna said, suddenly protective. She didn’t want Alice prying into her relationship with Gard. Even though there wasn’t any relationship, and wasn’t going to be one. “I have to go. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Jenna, I’m not trying to—”

“I know. See you tomorrow.” Jenna disconnected and slipped the phone into her pocket. She avoided Gard’s searching gaze and indicated the room with a sweep of her arm. “Perhaps the attorney can shed some light on all of this.”

“Maybe so,” Gard said. “Ready to go?”

“Yes.”

“Company coming?”

“My agent. A good friend.” Jenna strode out of Elizabeth’s studio, confident that soon this strange pull she felt to Gard would disappear. Their worlds were about to spin out of orbit as quickly and as unexpectedly as they had collided.

Chapter Twelve

Jenna didn’t need to see Alice’s face to know she was the one driving the sleek Audi roaring toward the corner of Main and Maple where Jenna waited. The red convertible was the newest, cleanest vehicle within sight, and the only one without a trailer hitch. Most of the vehicles parked diagonally at the curb, front-end-in, were Ford pickup trucks like Gard’s, or SUVs and Subarus. Practical, hearty, and snow-worthy. Main Street, a ubiquitous name for the central thoroughfare in every small American town, formed the heart of Little Falls. Three-and four-story brick and clapboard buildings stood shoulder to shoulder on each side of the street for three blocks and housed the bank, post office, city hall/sheriff’s annex, drugstore, diner, beauty shop, pizza parlor, a law office, a real estate firm, and three taverns. The residential streets where the doctors, lawyers, bankers, and businessmen used to live ran perpendicular to Main and were named for trees. Maple, Willow, Elm, and Oak were the prominent ones she’d noticed as she’d walked through town after finishing up with the attorney. Many of the once-grand houses with spacious grassy lots and detached garages larger than the trailer she’d grown up in had been divided into apartments when the mills had closed, the jobs had disappeared, and the wealthy had left for the cities.

The elms had long been lost to blight, but the sweeping maples still cast cool shadows over the uneven slate sidewalks, and when the breeze wafted over her skin, making her shiver in the steamy heat, she might have been back in Lansingville, PA, population 673, on her way to a bone-wearying, soul-sapping night of hefting trays and dodging passes from truckers and locals at the diner. She’d outrun the memory on her brisk walk back to Main, and now she smiled with an unanticipated rush of pleasure as Alice screeched to a halt at the curb, one hand holding her streaming blond hair back from her face.

“Nice entrance.” Jenna tossed her briefcase on the floor and slid into the passenger seat. “How was the trip?”

“What is it with the drivers around here?” Alice frowned, an inverted V marring the smooth contour between her brows. “If they’re not passing you in pickup trucks going ninety miles an hour on roads that look like they ought to be traversing the Alps, they’re poking along at thirty. And don’t even get me started on the tractors—”

“You’re in the land of rugged individuality now”—Jenna leaned over to kiss Alice on the cheek—“where rules were made to be broken and laws are merely suggestions, usually for the other guy.”

“Were they serious about the population? Eighteen fifty-seven?” When Jenna nodded, Alice shook her head and laughed. “Where to?”

“We can get you checked in at the hotel—it’s another forty minutes from here according to MapQuest—or if you want to start your adventures today, you can stay at the motel with me.”

“Kerry hasn’t changed your reservations yet?”

“If she did, she didn’t let me know about it. But no matter. I’ve got a marvelous room with an absolutely striking view of the parking lot. As near as I can tell only three other lifeforms currently inhabit the bathroom, and whatever sticky substance is on top of the dresser—”

“Stop. Please. I haven’t had lunch yet.”

Jenna glanced at her watch. Almost two p.m. Somehow the day had slipped away. More than twenty-four hours since Gard had dropped her off at the Leaf Peeper Inn. They’d filled the silence on the ride into town from Birch Hill with small talk. The polite talk of strangers who hadn’t nearly shared an unplanned intimate moment. She’d come very close to kissing Gard in the hallway of Elizabeth’s house, or inviting a kiss from her. She hadn’t intended either thing, and that spontaneous lapse was frightening. She always planned her liaisons, made the decision to share her body with a cool head, even when the rest of her had already moved to the next stage. Being around Gard sent her well-rehearsed and reliable patterns topsy-turvy, and she didn’t like the feeling. She didn’t like that she was still thinking about the almost-kiss either.