by Radclyffe
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 fami
liar 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—”
“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?”