by Susan Conley
“I may have been conked on the head, but this definitely isn’t Hannah’s Inn,” Abby pointed out.
“The real question isn’t what you see, but how many?”
Far from amused, she countered, “I see one lawyer who’s definitely out of order — not to mention out of his mind. Now what’s your point?”
“Is that any way to talk to your host?”
He jumped out of the Jeep before she could speak. Confused, she waited for him to open her door, then continued, “My what?”
“Host.” He extended his hand to help her from the car. “You’re staying here with me.”
For support, Jack wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Resting her cheek against Jack’s chest, Abby absorbed his warmth through the smooth material of his shirt. The regular beat of his heart echoed in her ear. All her life she had been waiting for someone. Holding her breath. Marking time. Getting involved with the wrong Jacks?
Jack stepped inside the house and flipped on the lights. “Are you all right?”
Abby nodded. She saw the deep concern reflected on his face. A fleeting glimpse of understanding that made her heart skip a beat. Did he sense her unexplainable fear? Had he experienced any of the same foreboding? Or was it just the accident?
“I can’t stay here.”
Jack checked his watch. “I wondered how long it would take.”
She cocked her head slightly, then groaned at the consequences of her actions. “For what?”
“For you to start giving me a hard time.”
She sighed. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but — ”
“But, what?”
“But, I don’t need a baby-sitter. I can take care of myself. I’ll be just fine at the inn.” She clipped her words short to minimize the discomfort caused by speaking. God, why can’t that sadistic little bastard operating the jackhammer in my head take a break?
“Maybe so. But, you’re staying here.”
She watched his playful look turn serious. He really meant to keep her here. Despite the underlying pain, she experienced a warm, pleasant sensation that made her feel safe and secure. “Just for tonight.”
“We’ll see.” He crossed the length of the living room and turned on the soothing voice of Diana Krall. “Is that too loud?”
Already relaxing on the couch, the sultry jazz sounded heavenly. “Not at all.”
Jack disappeared through a doorway and returned momentarily with a pillow and a blanket. He placed the pillow on the arm of the davenport and swiveled Abby’s feet from the floor.
She watched in amazement as he deftly removed her shoes and covered her, carefully tucking the soft material around her legs. His large hands were gentle and giving and the smile she offered him in return was unconditional.
“Don’t get too comfortable. You’re not supposed to sleep just yet,” Jack reminded in a low voice.
“I won’t.”
“Stay put. I’ll be right back. Yell if you need me.”
“I’m not going anywhere fast, believe me.”
Abby leaned her head back on the soft pillow and listened to Diana’s seductive rendition of “Peel Me A Grape.”
Within minutes, Jack returned. He put his cup of coffee on the end table and handed Abby an earthenware mug of steaming soup. “Drink this.”
Abby flinched inwardly at his order, but drank all the same. The creamy broth was delicious, and it warmed her spirit almost as much as Jack warmed her heart. Must be the medication talking again. She sipped some more then handed back the half-full mug.
“Finish it.”
Abby didn’t say a word.
“Please.”
“Are you always so bossy?”
“Not always, no.”
Abby tilted the mug and finished the soup. “Done.”
Jack took her empty dish and handed her a glass of water and a small white pill. When she leaned forward to take her medication, he fluffed up her pillow.
“Rest, but don’t sleep,” he said quietly.
He smoothed an errant curl from her face before heading back to the kitchen. Calmed by his gentle touch, she willed herself to relax. She looked around the dimly lit room in an effort to take her mind off the accident, the pain and Jack. Not necessarily in that order. The entire ground floor of his home was one open space. Massive overstuffed furniture had been arranged around a rustic fireplace. Rough-hewn beams divided the cathedral ceiling, adding to the peacefulness and warmth Abby had sensed the minute she walked through the door.
Although it didn’t help her headache, she strained her neck just enough to look over the back of the davenport. The fabulous upstairs loft was probably Jack’s bedroom. For the first time since her arrival, Abby realized his stylish taste in homes had not surprised her in the least.
When Jack approached her makeshift bed, he was slipping into his jacket. “I’ll be right back,” he said quietly.
Abby struggled to sit up a little. “Where are you going?” Suddenly, the thought of being alone made her uncomfortable.
He held up a finger to silence her unspoken protest. “To pick up a few of your things.” He dangled her room key in his opposite hand and smiled.
“I see you rifled through my purse.” She arched one brow. “By all means, help yourself.”
He smiled.
“So, you’re telling me I don’t have much choice — ”
“No choice,” he corrected.
“Fine. No choice,” she conceded — well, not quite. With that in mind, she added, “As long as you’re going, I do have one special request.”
“Name it.”
She conjured up her most earnest look. “If I’m going to stay here, I want Tom here, too.” After all Shadow was a tomcat.
“And Tom would be?”
“Did I forget to mention he’s staying with me?” Abby was barely able to keep a straight face as she watched him cram both fists into his pockets.
“You forgot?”
Convinced Jack deserved what she was dishing out, Abby ignored the twinge of guilt over the word game she was playing. “I just didn’t want you to walk in and, you know, be surprised. That might be awkward.”
Jack glanced over his shoulder, “Forget it. Looks like Tom will have the inn all to himself for a couple of days.”
“I know he’ll be there,” she called to his back as he headed for the door. “Black hair, green eyes. You can’t miss him. Please bring him back with you.”
When the door slammed, she laid her head back down on the wonderfully soft pillow and laughed. The pain was worth it. Abby only wished she could be there when Jack met Tom for the first time.
Chapter Nineteen
Salem, Massachusetts
31 October
Year of Our Lord, 1692
“Protect my beloved ’til I return. Brand the hand of the one he spurned. Neither touch the stone nor cancel the spell, or the wicked one will burn in hell.” Abigail’s spell was quick. The merciless grip of the noose around her neck was not …
• • •
There had never been an October wind frigid enough to cool off Jack right now. This was ridiculous. Abby had come to Boston alone. Hadn’t she? So, who the hell was Tom? Not some guy she’d just met. Abby didn’t strike him as the type. Maybe this guy had flown in to meet her? Then why hadn’t she given the hospital his number? Itching to know, Jack headed straight for Hannah’s Inn.
Jack couldn’t find a place to park in front, so he drove around to the back. The parking lot was well lit, and he had just killed the engine when he saw Bridget and a burly, bald man exit the inn and get into her midnight black Porsche.
“I’ll be damned.” He leaned forward to be sure. “Gonna be in New York for a few days, huh? As the
y say — timing’s a bitch.”
Not at all surprised by how little he cared, Jack shook his head. Chalk up another one for Maxine, he decided. If the stock market was as easily predicted as the women he dated, Maxine could be his broker any day.
Filing away Bridget’s lie, Jack hurried inside the bed and breakfast and unlocked room 204. The moment he flipped on the light, he stopped in his tracks. He didn’t know much about Abby Corey, but he knew enough to realize she had not left her room like this.
Drawers half open with lingerie dangling over the sides.
Clothes on hangers tossed across the bed.
Suitcase linings slit.
He carefully backed out of the room into the hallway and shut the door. Pulling out his cell phone, Jack dialed the familiar number.
“Venucci.”
“Lucky, it’s Jack.”
“Long time, no speak, Hawthorne. Sold any snake oil lately?”
“Besides your development, have you arrested anything else, Detective?” Same old Venucci who had kicked his ass in the eighth grade over Sandy … whatever the hell her last name had been. Regardless, Sandy had ended up liking some punk from St. Pat’s and Lucky and Jack had remained friends ever since. “Kiss off, Venucci.”
“Play nice, Jackie. You didn’t call just to tick me off. What’s up?”
Jack explained what he had found, assuring his difficult-to-convince friend — twice — that he knew a ransacked room when he saw one.
“I’m tied up on another case, but I’ll send a squad to get the particulars. How’s that?”
“No way, man. I’m telling you this room has been searched,” Jack insisted. “Look, between her car wreck this afternoon and this mess, something stinks.”
“She wrecked her car?”
“No. She wrecked my car. Said the brakes failed.”
“And?”
“And I just had that car serviced last week. The brakes should have been fine.”
“Gotcha. I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks.”
Good to his word, Venucci arrived within minutes. His low whistle upon entering the room confirmed Jack’s suspicions. “I’ll say this joint was tossed.” He walked to the dresser where lingerie dangled like Victoria Secret’s Yuletide tinsel from five of the six half-opened drawers. Lucky extracted a black, lace teddy, then turned and grinned at Jack. “You said this Corey woman will be at your place, if I have any questions?”
“Get over yourself. She’s a client from Illinois, and she doesn’t know anyone else out here.” The uncharacteristic silence caused Jack to pause. “Look, just call me the minute you hear anything.”
“Will do.” Venucci keyed his radio. “Central Ida Four.”
“Ida Four, go ahead.”
“Please dispatch the Crime Scene Tech to my location.”
“Ten-four Ida One” the Telecommunicator responded adding, “Ida One requests a ten-twenty-five immediately at his ten-twenty.”
“Advise Ida One I’m on my way.”
“Ten-Four.”
Venucci turned to the uniformed officer who had arrived on the scene. “Stay here until Jamison arrives.” When the patrolman nodded, Lucky turned to Jack. “I’ve got another call, but the Crime Scene Tech is on his way. After he’s done with the room you can take what you need.”
Forty minutes later the technician had come and gone, and Jack began gathering the odds and ends Abby would need for the next few days. He couldn’t help but notice how damn soft all of her things were. He shook his head and shoved some of her belongings into the slashed suitcase.
When a noise brought Jack up short, he stopped. Where the hell had that come from?
A small ball of fluff raced wildly across the floor and jumped on the bed, seemingly on tiptoe — tail erect — hissing like a cornered snake.
Jack’s low laugh echoed through the otherwise empty room as he grabbed the cat and got a better look. Black hair? Green eyes? “I’ll be damned.”
Kitten in hand, he picked up the suitcase and headed home, muttering something about women in general, Abby in particular and the sweet revenge of paybacks.
Chapter Twenty
At the slam of the car door, Abby waited. She knew Hawthorne loved to dish it out, but couldn’t help but wonder whether or not he could take it. The look on his face as he came through the door told her he could.
He stopped in front of Abby. “Tom, I presume?”
“Actually his name is Shadow, but he is a tomcat,” she confessed. “No hard feelings?”
Jack set down her suitcase at the end of the Davenport and handed her the kitten. “Are you kidding?” He took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. “You owe me, Corey. You owe me big.”
The twinkle Abby saw reflected in his dark eyes did more to ease the pain in her head than all the medication she’d taken. “You can’t collect from someone in my condition, and you know it. Besides, what took you so long?”
“Look, there’s something I have to tell you.”
At the tone of his voice, she instinctively sat up a little straighter, pulling Shadow close. “What?”
“The reason it took me so long to get back was that your room had been ransacked.”
“Ransacked?” she repeated, trying hard to wrap her mind around the concept. “Why on earth would anyone do that?”
“Good question.”
“I have no idea.” Abby thought a moment, then shook her head. Immediately regretting the gesture, she rubbed her throbbing temple. “First my home in Springfield and now my room here. What’s going on, Jack?”
“When I saw what had happened, that’s exactly what I thought. So, I called it in. Lucky Venucci is a friend of mine and he’s a detective on the police force.”
“He didn’t want to talk to me?”
“In light of all you’ve been through today, I asked him to let you rest tonight, and he agreed.” Jack shoved both hands in his pants pockets. “Unless you suspect someone in particular, he told me you could answer any questions tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” Abby swallowed hard. “I don’t know anyone besides you in Boston, so what happened at the inn must have been a random act, don’t you think?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Can you think of any reason your belongings would have been tempting to the staff?”
“Not a thing.” She thought, then shrugged, meeting his dark gaze. “I’m certainly not rich. What little cash I brought for my vacation, I carry in my purse. I have one Visa card and one Master card, both in my billfold. Other than that — well, you saw my stuff. Nothing worth stealing.”
“Well, someone was definitely interested.”
Abby frowned, but said nothing.
“Or, like you said, your room might have been selected by chance.”
“Maybe.” Remembering her unrequested visit from housekeeping the night before, Abby told him, “A maid did come to my room last night, right before you got there. But, I hadn’t called housekeeping.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing much,” Abby admitted, trying to remember. “Just ‘wrong room,’ I think.”
“Your feeling?”
Abby considered the woman she’d seen. “Maybe a bit odd.”
“How so?”
“I was having trouble fastening my necklace, and I asked her to help, but she refused. Said it was not allowed, but now that I think about it that doesn’t sound right.”
“But she saw your necklace.”
“Yeah, but I certainly don’t think she was interested in it.” Abby sighed. “That was the weird part. You’d have thought I dangled a tarantula in front of her, not a pendant.”
“Really?”
Abby nodded, immediately regretting the move.
“She jumped back like I’d set her on fire and nearly overturned her cleaning cart hurrying back down the hall.”
“That is strange. Be sure to tell the police when you talk to them, and they can at least check her out.”
“I will.” She offered a smile to counter the worried look in his eyes.
“Regardless, it’s over and you’re safe here.”
Abby shivered without comment.
“Are you chilly?”
“A little.”
“I know your shop burned, would a fire bother you?”
“I don’t think so.” Abby watched him cross the living room and kneel beside the huge stone hearth. She couldn’t help but notice his broad shoulders and well-muscled back as he adjusted the logs.
Turning, he glanced her way. “If it does, tell me and I’ll just kick up the thermostat instead.”
“Thanks, I will.” When he reached down and scratched behind Shadow’s ears, she smiled.
Straightening, he asked, “How about some hot chocolate?”
She closed her eyes, contemplating the yumminess of his offer. “With marshmallows?”
“Is there any other kind?”
Jack’s clattering in the kitchen gave her time to think. As comfortable as she felt in his house, Abby knew her stay in Salem would be over in a matter of days. Suddenly, the warm crackle of the fire chilled her to the bone. No Kat. No Aromatiques. No Home.
A bittersweet sensation of loneliness, the likes of which she had never felt before, swept through her. In her head, Abby knew, no matter how much she wanted to, she could not change what had happened. No amount of crying, praying or cursing could undo what had been done. Because she had tried them all. So at least for now, she forced herself to concentrate on the present.
As Jack reappeared, his tall, powerful form headed toward her, mugs in hand. Marshmallows bobbed in the steaming, rich brown drink as he eased his way back into the living room. She watched him with interest. Cocky attitude. Strong arms. Sexy mouth.
Accepting the cup, she was surprised when Jack sat beside her on the couch. “I feel awful about the car.”
“Forget it.”