Jesus, he thought, clattering down the wide steps and heading straight for the small parking lot next to the office. If he hadn’t completely lost his mind, he would have remembered Maggie’s house wasn’t the only building with wide windows. He’d have waited until a time when he could avoid any uncomfortable run-ins. Like the one he was about to have with Jessi Randal, who chose that moment to appear through the back door of the office and set out on an interception course. Since it would be rude, not to mention telling, to turn away, he kept walking. He added the easy smile just to prove he could.
“Well, that’s some Cheshire grin, Mr. Keegan,” Jessi said. “I’d ask why, but I’m too much a lady.”
“You don’t really need to ask, do you?”
She shot him a look from under her lashes, the smile on her face going smug. “Jumping to conclusions is never a good idea.”
Not much of a leap in this case, Dex thought. He considered asking her to keep it to herself, but he’d learned the hard way that would be insulting. Jessi had Maggie’s back; she wouldn’t blab because she understood the importance of privacy to her best friend. “When’s Maggie due in?”
As Dex had figured, Jessi let the subject of his sleeping arrangements go. “She’ll be gone most of the day.”
“Delivery or pick up?”
“All of the above. Maggie’s a whiz at scheduling, saving up off-island errands until she has a charter, so she can make a daisy chain of the stops and save on fuel.”
The woman was efficient, Dex mused, another little facet of her character he found irresistible. “Can you give her a message for me?”
“Sure.”
“Tell her thanks for breakfast,” he held up the pop tarts, “and since she bought, I owe her. Let her know I’ll be at the Horizon, seven o’clock, to pay my debt.”
“She won’t show.”
“She’d better. It was her idea.”
“Uh… let me go inside and forward the phones to my cell, and I’ll drive you into town. You can tell me the rest of that story on the way.”
Dex pulled the keys to the Jag out of his pocket, held them up. “I appreciate the offer, but Maggie loaned me a car.”
“She—” Jessi grabbed the ring out of his hand, stared at it for a second. “The Jaguar? Her Roadster? She barely lets anyone look at it, let alone drive it.”
“Yeah,” Dex didn’t ruin his nonchalant attitude with a grin. “She’s a hard one to anticipate.”
“Isn’t she just? I think I should go inside now, and check the weather.”
“What?” Dex swung around, caught Jessi by the arm as she’d already started for the office. “Maggie flew in bad weather?”
Jessi simply smiled, the one brow she lifted taking it smug. “It’s not the weather up there I’m worried about, Dex, but I think it might be snowing in Hell.”
Maggie’s Jaguar Roadster looked like hell, but it zipped nimbly through the curves and stretched out on the straightaways, as sleek and muscular as its namesake prowled the jungle. The woman definitely had a way with an engine, and having his hands on the wheel, hearing it purr, put the finishing touch on the amazing night past and a morning that had dawned in clear-skied, autumn-painted perfection.
He slowed for the turn into Windfall village, fielded the first open-mouthed stare from Maisie Cutshaw, and his mood plummeted, hitting rock-bottom between one thudding heartbeat and the next. The Jaguar, he thought darkly, the same car that had buoyed his morning now weighed like an anchor, made heavier by every long, assessing look that came his way.
Well, he thought as he parked in front of the Horizon and stepped out of the car, he’d wanted everyone to think he and Maggie were involved. Mission accomplished. He walked inside, waved through the big doorway to AJ, manning the bar, and stopped short when Helen snagged him by the arm, cut off whoever she had on her cell, and asked him about the Jag.
“Maisie, right?”
“She was taping up the gift shop windows and saw you drive by.”
“Why was she taping up the windows?” he asked.
“For the winter storms,” Helen said, sounding put-upon. “We get a fair bit of wind, sometimes more than a fair bit.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re changing the subject.”
“Sure, but how much is a fair bit? And what’s blowing around that breaks windows?”
“Hail sometimes, or tree branches. There’s a big old oak behind Maisie’s place, and you know how those things shed if they’re not trimmed regular. One good blow and…” Helen jammed her hands on her hips. Her foot was tapping, too. “The car?”
Dex had to work hard not to laugh.
“Where were you last night?” Helen persisted. “As if I didn’t know.”
“I’d love to talk about it, really, but I have to make a phone call. Feel free to listen in.”
Helen’s irritation took on an edge of insult. “I don’t listen in on the guests’ phone calls. And don’t think this conversation is over. Everybody in town knows you’re driving Maggie’s car and they’re all wondering what else Maggie is sharing with you. Just remember, I asked first.”
“Okay, you can grill me about it later.”
“And not get any damned answers,” Dex heard her mutter as he hightailed it up the stairs, fishing his room key out of his pocket so he could get inside before he ran into anyone else bursting with quest—
He stopped mid-thought, took one good look through a door he could only half open because it was jammed up against something which, on further investigation, turned out to be his mattress. Drawers hung out of the low dresser and nightstand, the closet gaped open, and the bedclothes were in a heap in the corner. He leaned around the door, saw the mattress had been slashed. It appeared even the edges of the carpet had been ripped from the tack strips.
Not trashed, Dex concluded, but the room had been thoroughly searched. He only thought about it for a minute before he dug his phone out of his back pocket, flipped it open. Under other circumstances, he would have put the room to rights and kept it to himself. But there was no way to hide a slashed mattress, and no point inviting questions by not reporting the break-in. Ten minutes later the sheriff of Windfall Island turned the corner and strode, in his measured, deliberate way, to Dex’s door. AJ was right behind him.
The two men took the same sort of slow perusal Dex had made. AJ just shook his head, looking grim.
“Did you go in?” George asked him.
“No.”
“Not curious about what’s missing?”
“Nothing in there to steal,” Dex said in the same flat tone. “Nothing of mine, anyway. My money’s on me, and my files are in the…”
“Jaguar,” George finished for him, his voice a notch tighter and just a little rough at the edges. “Word travels.”
Dex closed his eyes, tried to hold the words back, but they came out anyway. “Maggie rented it to me.” And yeah, that sounded defensive, and judging by George’s expression, the fact that he was paying for the privilege of driving Maggie’s car didn’t mitigate anything. Since the man wore a gun, Dex figured he ought to be concerned. Instead, he felt sympathy. He swallowed it back, let it ice over, put emotion away, and set his mind on the situation at hand.
“How long has the room been vacant?” George asked.
“Don’t remember seeing you come in last night,” AJ said helpfully.
George’s eyes cut to Dex’s.
Dex stared back coolly. “The lock is still intact, the window is closed and latched from the inside. Whoever did it must have had the key.”
“Yeah, that might narrow things down in the big city.”
“So let me get this straight. I’ve been sleeping in a room anyone on the island could get into?”
George’s mouth twisted. “Not at night, or you’d have called me before this.”
Dex thought about it, nodded. “The Maslow twins,” he said for George’s and AJ’s benefit.
“Yeah,” AJ said, grinning outright this time, “except the
call would’ve come when their old man showed up with his twelve gauge.”
Dex pretended to squirm at that idea, and his mind was on weapons. But they weren’t trained on him. Despite the ego Maggie liked to tease him about, he didn’t think for a second any woman on the island would break into his room simply to get to him. Why rip up the carpet and trash the room when they found it empty? Why slice open the mattress if they were only after a roll on it? No, whoever had done this had been looking for something… and there was only one thing Dex might have had of any value: information about Eugenia’s descendant.
The violence of the search left Dex with some real concerns about what might happen to that descendant—if there was one, and he was incompetent enough to let the information get out.
George spent the same silent minute coming to some conclusions of his own, it seemed. “Thing is,” he said to Dex, “you were gone during the day. Just about anyone could be responsible for redecorating your room. AJ locks up at night, but everyone on the island knows where he keeps the master key.”
“And there’s nobody at the front desk most of the time,” AJ put in. “Not once tourist season is over.”
“Nice secure place you’re running here,” Dex said to George.
“First,” George shot back, “I don’t run Windfall Island. If I did—”
“Yeah, I’d be gone. Got it.”
“Second, I’m not the one with all the tempting secrets.”
“So it was just somebody trying to find out why I’m here?”
George shrugged. “What else could it be?”
Right, what else? Dex took a deep breath, exhaled, letting go of the darker possibilities swirling in his brain at the same time.
“You’ve become quite the mystery, Keegan. Whoever it was came when they knew you’d be out, then probably got a little angry and a lot carried away when it turned out to be a wild goose chase.”
“You’d know the people here,” Dex said by way of agreement. “But you’re not going to dedicate a lot of time to finding out who’s behind this.”
“Who do you want me to question?”
“Start with everybody, then narrow it down from there.”
George rocked back on his heels. “I’ll ask around, but I can tell you now, nobody will own up to this, and if anyone else knows who did it, they won’t snitch.”
“Not for an outsider, you mean.”
“Not for anybody,” George said evenly. “It’s not our way.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Dex said sourly. These were the damnedest people, gossiping about everybody and everything as long as it was something inconsequential. The important stuff they took to their graves. And he couldn’t insist George take the break-in seriously without giving him a damn good reason.
“You can come down to the station house later, fill out a report,” George offered.
“I’ll leave that to you,” Dex said to AJ. “It doesn’t appear anything of mine was stolen.” Except his sense of security.
And he was better off without it.
Maggie radioed in just after four o’clock, and Jessi took her first easy breath of the day. Contrary to what she’d told Dex, she always worried when Maggie was in the air. Added to that, the weather service had predicted the first serious fall storm. It was for later that night, sure, but the Atlantic rarely fit itself into the forecasters’ tidy little schedule.
Jessi acted as air traffic controller in cases where Maggie wasn’t around. Even though Maggie didn’t need any assistance landing at Windfall Airport, she insisted all FAA regulations be observed. So when Maggie called in her approach, Jessi answered, cleared her for landing, and pretended to guide her in.
She was watching at the big front windows of the lobby when Maggie came around the back of her little Piper and opened the passenger door. A man stepped out—Holden Abbot, Jessi knew, as she’d taken the reservation. She could still remember his voice, a deep, languorous drawl, dripping with Southern honey.
He had the body to go with it, too: tall, lanky, and boy did he know how to wear a suit. Or maybe the suit was worthy of the body, so perfectly tailored she could tell there were muscles on his long, lean frame. And that face—well, he was definitely attractive.
He had a killer smile, too; easy, cheerful. Holden Abbot’s smile lit up his face, made what might have been far too cover model into something more approachable, engaging and inviting.
Even from where she stood, Jessi could see that his smile made it all the way to his eyes. And because she found it so appealing, she walked away from the window.
By the time Maggie swung through the door with Holden Abbot behind her, Jessi was back behind her desk, buried in paperwork up to her elbows. The task was real; her portrayal of unbreakable concentration should have won her an Oscar. The iPod earbuds she’d shoved in her ears added to the illusion, even if she hadn’t had time to turn the damned thing on—which made it easier to hear Maggie when she yelled, “Jessi!”
She tugged on the wire, the earbuds popping free as she looked up. And her breath stuttered. That smile, she thought, catching herself before her mouth dropped open. From a distance that smile had been inviting; up close it was lethal.
“Jess!” Maggie said loudly enough to tell Jessi she’d said it at least once already, and when Jessi glanced over she was smiling smugly. “I said, this is Holden Abbot.”
“Call me Hold,” he said, offering his hand. “Everyone does.”
Jessi rose, took it, and immediately wished she hadn’t. His hand was warm, his grip strong but gentle. And his scent, just soap and man, was tempting enough that she almost leaned in for a better sample. She didn’t, and let go of his hand before he could feel her tremble. And because his smile never wavered, because he seemed not one bit affected, the trembling went away, and was replaced by annoyance.
“Welcome to Windfall Island,” she said, ever-cognizant of her duty as representative and part owner of Solomon Charters. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work.” She looked at Maggie. “Unless you need me to take Mr. Abbot into the village.”
“No need,” Maggie said, frowning just enough to tell Jessi she’d seen the wintry attitude even if Holden Abbot hadn’t. “He’s staying here, for the time being. At my house.”
Jessi’s mouth did drop open this time.
“I’m not sure what Dex has in mind,” Hold said, that honey-dripping voice not helping Jessi’s presence of mind. “We—Maggie and I—thought it might be a good idea if I lay low until we can talk to him.”
Jessi snapped her mouth shut, took a second to establish some control, just a little self-control so she didn’t appear to be a complete idiot. “Well, you can talk to him tonight, since you’re dating.”
Maggie shot Holden Abbot a look. “We’re not dating, I—”
“Loaned him a car,” Jessi said, relaxing now that the focus was off her. “And not just any car, a Jaguar XK… something Roadster.”
“An XK120? Year?”
“Fifty-four,” Maggie supplied.
Hold whistled between his teeth. “Completely restored?”
“Mechanically. He still looks like sixty years of bad luck.”
“He?”
Maggie crossed her arms. “No woman could possibly put me through what that car did.”
Hold laughed, long and loud, and if his smile wreaked havoc, his laugh seemed to twine around inside Jessi, bright and irresistible.
She put a frown on her face and a bite into her voice. “You have a date, remember?” she said to Maggie. And those words—not the ones she’d intended to say—let her know the bitchiness had a root in something other than a desire to put Holden Abbot off.
Maggie caught it, too. She leaned back against a file cabinet, crossed one booted foot over the other, and popped up one perfectly arched eyebrow.
Jessi crossed her arms as well, braced a hip on her desk, and met Maggie’s bland stare head on. “Your date?” she prompted, not about to give in to Maggie’s snotty non-verbal
comeback. “I’m all ears.”
“That’s a change; usually you’re all mouth.”
Jessi laughed. She never could out-snark Maggie, and she had to admit it was her fault. This time. “I do like to talk.”
“Maybe you could keep Mr. Abbot company while I fill out my logs.”
“Of course.” Not like she had a choice, with Maggie already halfway out the back door. She sat again, gestured Hold to one of the worn metal-framed chairs against the far wall.
Instead of sitting at what she’d have considered a safe distance, he brought the chair to her, placing it at an angle to her desk and lounging—it was the only way she could describe the way he draped his lanky body over the small chair. All that was missing were the arms crossed behind his head.
Annoyance roared through her again, that he could be so damned relaxed while she felt so… itchy.
“What brings you to Windfall, Mr. Abbot?”
“Hold,” he said with a tone of slight rebuke. “If you keep calling me Mr. Abbot, sugar, I’m going to take it as an insult.”
Jessi looked up from the invoices she’d gone back to sorting. “If you evade my questions, I’m going to wonder why you’re keeping secrets. And don’t call me sugar.”
He grinned. It killed her. She smiled back, nothing else she could do. While she understood that he’d completely defused her temper, she couldn’t help herself.
“I was asked to help Dex Keegan with a little case he’s working on here.”
“Oh?” She forgot the invoices completely. “Why?”
“I’m not sure, exactly,” he said in a calm, measured way that told her he didn’t so much weigh his words as enjoy saying them. “I haven’t talked to him directly. A friend of his asked me to come along, see what I could do.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“Lots of things. Research, fact-finding, and I have a specific interest in genealogy.”
Temptation Bay (A Windfall Island Novel) Page 17