by Ariana Dupre
"Boss,” Burt's voice interrupted, “I'm calling Sheriff Oakley. I'll be in the office if you need me."
"Thanks,” Jared responded, his gaze never leaving Angie's face.
"Angie, talk to me,” he said softly after Burt left. “It's Jared."
Her eyes moved over his face and he saw the faint flicker of recognition. He lifted her hand, turned it upward and kissed her palm. “Angelina, please say something. What happened to you?"
She turned toward him, her eyes lost and vacant.
"Angie, Burt and I found you in the field. The hay barn burned down. Angie, can you hear me?"
Still, she didn't answer, and he watched her, uncertain how to proceed.
His indecision was interrupted by knocks on the front door.
"Burt,” he called, “can you get the door?"
"I'm already there.” Burt opened the door to Doc Martin and whispered, “She looks bad, Doc."
"What happened to her?” the doctor asked, his tone both professional and concerned.
"We don't know.” Burt shook his head. “She hasn't said a word since we found her sitting in the middle of the field in her underwear. The hay barn burnt down."
"She wasn't burned?"
"It doesn't look that way, but Jared can't get a word out of her."
"Where is she?” the doctor asked.
In the living room, Doc Martin exchanged places with Jared. He checked Angie's pulse; then looked at her pupils. He spoke to her softly, but still she didn't respond.
"She's been through an ordeal,” he said to Jared, his eyes still on his patient. “She may be in shock and I don't want to take any chances. I'd feel better if we checked her at the hospital."
"No ... No...” Angie's hoarse voice was barely audible.
"I'll get her some water,” Burt said, leaving the room.
"Angie?” Jared sat on the coffee table to hold her hand again.
In a few moments, Burt came back, and handed the water to the doctor. “Sheriff Oakley just got here,” he said as the man in question followed him into the room.
Three men were now standing over Angie, looking down at her while Jared stayed by her side.
Angie stared back at them. Their blurry faces slowly came into focus. Doc Martin held a glass of water to her lips and she sipped the cool liquid. Then pulling her hand free from Jared's, she grabbed the glass, seeking to drench her parched throat.
"Just a sip, Angie, just a sip.” Doc pulled the glass away. “Jared, lift her up a little please."
Jared helped Angie up, wrapping the blanket behind her. Doc Martin again held the glass to her lips, drawing it back when she drank too deeply.
She sipped several times then lay against the pillow. Rubbing her eyes, she looked up at them again.
"You're getting a little color back,” Doc said as he rechecked her heart rate.
Angie managed a small grin and saw the relief in the four faces around her.
But knew that wouldn't last long. Not after she told them what had happened.
"How are you feeling now?” asked Doc Martin.
"Shaky.” Her voice was still hoarse. “I just couldn't stop staring at the barn."
"Can you tell us what happened?” asked Sheriff Oakley in the ensuing silence.
Angie didn't look at him. Instead, she glanced at Jared, saw the strain etched across his face.
Why is he so worried? She took a deep breath and spoke directly to him. “The intruder from the other night came back,” she said slowly. “He locked me in the barn, poured gasoline around it, and set it on fire."
"What?” was the unanimous response.
"I never even got to bed down Whispers stall,” she murmured and then told them the details of what had happened. “I'd just made it to the field when the barn collapsed. If I'd been just a few seconds later..."
"Don't think about that now,” Jared comforted her.
"I'm going to check out the barn,” said Sheriff Oakley. “Burt, can you pull your truck around to add some light?"
"Sure. I'll meet you back there."
Angie waited for the two men to leave the room. “Doc, I feel better now. I'd really like to get cleaned up."
"Okay, but someone has to stand outside the door in case you need help."
"Really, that's sweet of you but I'm fine now. I don't need anyone to stand guard."
"I'll carry you up,” Jared said, standing to help her.
"That's okay. I can do it.” Angie wrapped the blanket around her as she stood. “I have to call Alan. I don't want him to have another heart attack. If he hears about this from someone other than me, he might."
"We'll be here if you need us,” said Doc Martin.
They watched Angie go upstairs.
"Can you stay here a few minutes, Doc? I want to see if the sheriff found anything."
"I was going to suggest that.” Smiling, the doctor patted Jared on the shoulder, his blue eyes glinting. “Go on, get out there."
"Thanks, Doc, I'll be back in a few."
* * * *
The headlights of Burt's red Ford pickup and the Police SUV shone across what remained of the hay barn. Burt stood beside his truck and watched Sheriff Oakley poke around the edges of the rubble where the door had been.
"Find anything, Sheriff?” Jared strode over to stand beside Burt.
"Yeah, I found something.” Oakley straightened, turned to Jared, and adjusted his hat. “You're not going to like it."
Jared's stomach tightened. “What is it?"
"Whoever trapped Angie in this barn didn't intend for her to escape. Both doors were padlocked. She would have died in there if she hadn't found her way to that stall."
Jared leaned back hard against Burt's truck. “Do you think someone is trying to kill Angie?"
"After the break-in the other night and now this ... I don't just think it, Jared. I'm pretty damn sure of it. Trapping her inside a padlocked hay barn, soaking it with gasoline and setting it on fire is way beyond the boundaries of trying to scare her. This time he meant for her to die."
"Not while I'm around,” Jared said angrily. “I'm not letting her out of my sight again.” Pacing back and forth, he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Who would want Angie dead?"
"I don't know but I intend to find out.” Sheriff Oakley put the evidence he'd collected inside the SUV as car lights lit up the dirt road approaching the house. “My deputies are here. We'll secure the area until tomorrow morning. I'll be back at sunrise with the fire marshal to do a more thorough investigation after the heat has dissipated. The deputies will take everyone's statement tonight."
Sheriff Oakley adjusted his hat. “I have a few more questions for Angie. I'll be at the house if you need me."
When the sheriff was out of earshot, Jared turned to the older man. “I swear, Burt, I'll kill him myself if he hurts her."
"And I'll have your back, Boss. I've never seen Angie like that before. She's always been so feisty."
"From now on I want one of us, or someone from the crew, guarding Angie at all times."
"She's not gonna go for that, Boss.” Burt wiped his face with a red bandanna then shoved it in his hip pocket. “Angie's a stubborn one. Independent too. If she thinks we're watching out for her, she'll get mighty upset."
"Then we won't let her know, will we? Tomorrow I want you to tell the crew what happened tonight. Make sure someone's near her at all times. If she sees the men working, she's less likely to guess what we're doing."
"But Angie only saw the guy's eye color. We don't know if the intruder and the man who did this are the same person. What if it's two different men or one of the crew?"
"You're right, I'm not thinking clearly.” Jared leaned wearily against the truck. “I'll hire a security team, pay them double time to pretend to be workers and stay near Angie. The regular crew we'll keep a safe distance away."
"And at night, Boss?” Burt grinned, “Are you gonna move into her bedroom?"
Jared
looked at Burt in disbelief. “Yeah sure. Like that would ever happen. I'll hire two uniformed security guards to keep watch outside the house at night until this guy is caught."
"I hope this works, Jared. I don't want anything to happen to that girl. Martha was like a sister to my wife. I've watched Angie grow up. I want to keep her safe."
"Me too, Burt, me too."
* * * *
Angie felt the warmth on her face even before she opened her eyes. Her bedroom was on the east side of the house. Every morning, without fail, the sun woke her.
Lying on her side, she snuggled deeper into the pillows. Pulling the sheet over her head, pushing the nightmare from her mind, she tried for a few more minutes of rest.
Since she'd been staying in the Slayton house, she'd been able to fall back asleep after the dream woke her, something she'd never done in her own home. True, she had paced the floor in the middle of every night during the three weeks since she moved in. But as far as she knew, Jared was unaware of her interrupted sleep.
Although Alan had hoped she would dream of Theodore Slayton, the ghost of Sam's ancestors had yet to occupy her night visions. Instead, the face of Jared Maxwell came night after night to torment—and intrigue—her.
If only the end of the dream was clear. Yes, Jared took the bullet meant for her, but he also disappeared from her sight. That meant he could have snuck up behind her. He could be the man who dragged her away at gunpoint.
So much for sleeping in.
Pulling the covers off of her face, Angie rolled onto her back. Usually her premonition dreams were so clear. Why was this one so confusing?
Hearing a steady pounding outside, she pushed the covers back and swung her feet over the side of the bed. She looked out of the window to see Jared already hard at work. After rubbing the slumber from her eyes, she quickly made up the bed, grabbed some clothes and her toiletry bag before heading down the hall to the bathroom.
She passed the four center rooms, now empty, then paused at Jared's bedroom. For the first time since they moved in, it was open.
Angie glanced down the hall. She was alone.
Curiosity will surely kill this cat, she thought as she ventured inside.
What did she hope to find? She only knew she wanted to learn more about Jared Maxwell.
The room was spotless. He had made the bed—no clothes littered the floor.
A wooden box with intricate designs on the lid caught Angie's attention. It was sitting on top of the chest of drawers. She walked over and looked at it more closely. It was about the size of a cigar box. A deep mahogany offset the lighter shades of several small wooden triangles in the square inset. The hinges and latch were made of a golden metal. She lifted the open lock but left the lid closed, respectfully holding her curiosity in check.
Angie next went to Jared's bed and sat on the edge of it. Soon she was deep in thought.
Two weeks ago she had argued with Jared over what had happened between them in Clyde Davis's bedroom. But her narrow escape from the fire, with Jared showing so much concern and care, had brought them closer again. Since then, Jared had been polite but distant. They ate separately and talked together only about the renovation.
It was exactly what she said she wanted when she moved into the homestead. And it suited her just fine.
Didn't it?
It seemed as though confusion were her only friend.
Jared could still terrify her, especially when his eyes would darken over some snide remark she threw his way. But all the same, she kept wondering why it was so important to him that she remembered the way they'd kissed.
And, God, could that man kiss!
She'd never forget the day by the stream, when Jared aroused feelings in her she didn't know existed, when her body responded to him in ways she'd never before experienced.
Angie inhaled deeply. The room smelled like Jared, a fresh clean scent with a hint of musk. She noticed it every time he came close to her.
It was all too damn confusing. Thank heavens she only had two more months here with him. At this frantic work pace, they might even complete the project early.
Thinking of him, she felt hot and bothered, and that just wouldn't do.
Time to get in that shower.
She stood to leave but stopped dead in her tracks.
Jared leaned against the doorjamb, quietly watching her. She felt her face flush. Oh boy. What can I say? Nothing. So she just stood there, staring at him.
"Find what you were looking for, Ms. Benton?” Jared's eyes were like steel.
Angie drew in a breath at the coldness in his voice. “I wasn't looking for anything. I was just looking."
"Snooping, I'd say."
Her temper flared. He'd watched her, never saying a word. “Call it what you like. If you didn't want anyone coming in here, you shouldn't have left your door open. How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough."
"I didn't touch anything, I was just looking at your room ... uh ... thinking how I'm going to redecorate it."
"Are you sure?” Closing and locking the door, Jared stepped toward her.
"What are you doing?” Panic was closing in along with Jared. Angie suddenly felt as if she couldn't breathe.
His damp hair hung in his eyes and his body glistened with sweat. This was way too familiar. Too much like the dream.
"I'd say I'm taking advantage of a beautiful, scantily dressed woman, snooping around in my bedroom."
Angie glanced at herself in the mirror. The silky fabric of the short pink nightgown was too thin. She saw her nipples pressed against the sheer cloth. Obviously, Jared had seen them too. She lifted the towel against her chest to cover her breasts.
"I told you, Jared, I didn't touch anything. I was just trying to get decorating ideas.” He had her cornered now, between the wall and the bedpost. Her breathing became heavier, more labored. She didn't dare tell him what she had really been thinking.
Oh, no. This wasn't fear causing her to tremble.
It was excitement. Anticipation.
He was so close, stroking her hair, looking at her that way, his eyes full of passion.
Kiss me, Jared. I know I shouldn't, but I want you to kiss me.
"You know, you're beautiful in the morning, Angelina. Modesty becomes you.” He slid the narrow strap of her nightgown off her shoulder and brushed his lips across the flesh beneath.
Angie drew in a sharp breath and turned her face to him. His lips were just an inch away from hers. Her own trembled with longing.
"But—next time, ask before you enter my room,” he whispered, and stepped back. He stripped off the sweat soaked T-shirt, revealing hard muscles, and Angie's heart skipped a beat. Tossing it on a chair, he grabbed a clean shirt from a drawer. He walked across the room, pulling the fabric over his head. Then, without as much as a glance back at her, he unlocked the door and walked out of the room.
"Ugghhh,” Angie released the built up tension with the deep guttural sound and headed to the shower.
The water would be cold, ice-cold. Of that, she was sure.
* * * *
Chapter 7
Angie sat on the floor in the Slayton living room surrounded by catalogues, her back resting against the couch and her legs propped up on the coffee table. She flipped between several new swatch books, looking for a light mauve paint to match the wallpaper she'd chosen for one of the bedrooms.
When Alan brought her the new books after breakfast that morning, he'd asked if she'd dreamt of Theodore Slayton. She expected him to be disappointed with her reply. Instead, he'd patted her cheek and said, “If he's here, he'll come to you."
Angie turned the page. Ah ha! The perfect mauve. Jotting down the color number on her order form, she put the swatch samples aside. Then, turning to that bedroom's page in the Renobook, she wrote the number down again.
The research for the prints and styles of the early eighteen hundred's was complete, most of the supplies were ordered, and the
plans for the interior would be done in a day or two.
Now she just needed to fax in the remaining orders, hire someone to construct the window treatments she'd designed, and then next week it would be hands on work.
This is my baby, she thought, and I can't wait to get started. It was the individual care she showed each client, and the fact that she did most of the work herself, that had made her reputation as an interior designer. This project was no different. Except the client was herself.
She held a paint sample against a fabric swatch. Today, Jared and his crew would finish inside the house. And tomorrow, after the cleaners were through, the place would be hers alone.
She stretched, tightening all her muscles at once, luxuriating in the energy that spread through her body. Bringing the interior together, striving for both historical accuracy and modern appeal, had focused and challenged her in these last few days. And kept Jared Maxwell in the recesses of her mind, where he belonged.
Until this morning, that is.
She could still see his blue eyes darkening with desire as he'd slipped the strap of her negligee off her shoulder. Oh, he'd wanted her, really wanted her, she was sure of it, even though he was angry to have found her in his room. And the way his muscles rippled when he pulled that shirt off—
Nah, she wasn't even going to go there.
The clank of the knocker drew her from the floor to the entrance hall. She opened the front door a little, expecting a salesman, then flung it wide.
"Oh My God! Ed—die!" Angie threw her arms around the big man's neck, kissed him on the cheek and squeezed him as tightly as she could.
"Glad to see me, are ya?” Eddie grinned at her.
"Of course I'm glad to see you.” Angie said, releasing her hold on him. “How did you know I was here?"
"Alan told me.” He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “So you're partner's with the old coot now?"
"Eddie Harland, that's no way to talk about your uncle! I'll tell you all about it but first come inside. Let me fix you something to drink. Wow! Look at you! You've gotten huge—been working out, huh?” Linking her arm with his, Angie led him inside the house.
* * * *
When the door of the house closed, Burt, outside in the front yard with Jared, jabbed his employer in the arm. The Boss hadn't moved, just stared, since Eddie's car had driven up. “Why don't you go inside? See what it's about, Boss?” Burt spoke over the hum of the electric table saw.