She couldn’t imagine spending the entire day that way. In an awkward, uncomfortable silence.
Here, at least she had Lisa to talk to. Lisa, who’d been stuck in the house for weeks taking care of her mother and seemed to need the company as badly as Jane did. And just as it had been with Mitch, Jane felt some sort of connection to Lisa. A kinship.
A warm breeze kissed her face and the scent of freshly cut grass washed over her like a long lost friend. It was so familiar—comforting even—but any distinct memory escaped her. Rather than let frustration set in, she instead watched Mitch. With the temperature steadily creeping up and the noon sun beating relentlessly down, he’d abandoned his shirt on the picnic table. She watched the lean muscle in his shoulders bunch and contract under sweat-slicked skin, his powerful legs flex under denim. She couldn’t peel her eyes away. Which was probably why she didn’t hear Lisa come up behind her and let out a shriek when she tapped Jane’s shoulder.
“Something interesting out there?” Lisa asked, a mischievous grin on her face.
Jane had been caught red-handed staring—a denial seemed futile. “I think I’m falling for your brother.”
Lisa looked a bit taken aback by her honesty, but she smiled. “He’s a good guy. When he takes his head out of his ass.”
“He thinks we shouldn’t start anything. At least until we know who I am. Not that I blame him.” She let out a sigh so long and wistful she turned her own stomach. “God, I’m pathetic.”
“I hate to be discouraging, but when he sets his mind to something, he’s tough to budge.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“You know he’s been burned pretty badly before.”
She nodded. In the yard, Mitch stopped briefly and drew one tanned arm across his sweat-soaked brow. Her thoughts drifted back to their encounter in the stairwell. She recalled how all of that lean muscle, that warm smooth skin, had felt against her palms. A deep sense of longing took a choke hold of her heart. “He told me about Kim. The crazy thing is, I don’t know that I’m any different. Suppose I am caught up in something illegal. Suppose I’m on the run from someone.”
“If it’s any consolation, you don’t look like a criminal.”
“I don’t feel like a criminal either, but that doesn’t mean I’m not.”
“Kim, she was…I don’t know, shifty, I guess. She was sticky sweet to Mitch, but when he wasn’t around, she was an ice cube. I never believed that she loved him.” Lisa boosted herself up to perch on the edge of the countertop. The tank top she wore today read: All Men Are Animals, Some Just Make Better Pets. “He got a lot of flack from her family after she was killed. Her husband blamed Mitch. He went to Mitch’s lieutenant and the police chief, and when they wouldn’t listen, he went to the newspapers. It was a huge mess. He almost lost his job.”
“And now he doesn’t trust women. I really can’t say I blame him. Especially a woman like me.”
“You’re different, Jane. I can tell.”
“I appreciate that. But it doesn’t change the fact that this thing between me and Mitch will never work.”
“I kinda think of it like this—Mitch keeps a pretty high wall around himself, and it’s not very often he lets people in. Right now you’re on the top of that wall, your feet dangling over the edge, waiting for the go-ahead to jump down so he can catch you.”
“And if I jump down without waiting for permission?”
“You risk landing on your ass.”
That was pretty much the conclusion she’d drawn, as well. And it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. Not yet anyway. “Tell me about this dog-grooming shop you want to open.”
Surprise and excitement sparked in Lisa’s eyes. “Mitch told you about it?”
“Not in detail.”
“It’s more than a dog-grooming shop. It’s a pet resort, and not just for dogs. Cats, birds, hamsters—any animal is welcome. We would have grooming services, exercise programs, gourmet food, an on-call veterinarian. You name it.”
“It sounds really unique, but is there a market for that kind of thing?”
“I never thought so, but I have this friend who owns a resort up near Traverse City. Very exclusive. He caters to the filthy rich and eccentric, and a lot of them bring their pets along. He approached me about the possibility of adding a grooming salon, so I told him about my pet resort idea. He loved it! Unfortunately, David can only afford to put up half the money and he’s having a little trouble talking his investors into shelling out the rest. If I’m going to make this work, I need to come up with the second half myself.”
“Your half of your grandmother’s house,” Jane said, and Lisa nodded. “Maybe if you try to reason with Mitch—”
“You can’t reason with Mitch. I admit, I haven’t exactly been the poster child for responsibility, but this resort is what I’ve always wanted to do. It’s the only thing I’ve ever felt passionate about.”
That passion was evident in Lisa’s face. How could Mitch be so blind to his own sister’s enthusiasm? Jane didn’t doubt that he meant well—or that he had a grossly inflated sense of responsibility where his family was concerned. But Lisa deserved the chance to try. Everyone deserved the chance to try. Even if that meant falling on their face a time or two.
From the open window she heard the lawnmower cut out and glanced up to see Mitch drop down onto the picnic table, sprawling across the top on his back, one forearm draped over his eyes.
Maybe it would be the opportune time to talk some sense into him. When his defenses were down.
“He looks thirsty,” Jane said.
Lisa hopped down and looked over Jane’s shoulder, out the window. “You think?”
Jane nodded. “Definitely. We wouldn’t want him to dehydrate.”
“Nope, that would be bad. Maybe you should bring him something to drink.” Lisa reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade. She filled an oversize plastic cup and dropped in a few ice cubes. With a cocky smile she shoved the cup into Jane’s hand. “Go get him, tiger.”
Chapter 11
Mitch sighed, the weathered wood of the old picnic table rough against his back, the sun searing his bare chest and arms—but he was too relaxed to move a muscle. The hum of an occasional insect buzzing past his ear and the trill of a bird in the trees lulled him deeper into a state of unconsciousness. Even when he heard the creak of the back door, sensed the rustle of footsteps crossing the lawn, he was helpless to open his eyes. Still, before she uttered a sound, he instinctively knew it was Jane. Every other one of his senses told him so. The scent of her hair, the sound of her breathing and the unmistakable tingle of awareness across his skin.
“Sleeping on the job?” she asked, making a “tsk, tsk” sound. The table tilted slightly to one side as she took a seat on the bench. “You looked thirsty, so I brought you lemonade.”
He lifted his arm a fraction of an inch and peeked at her through one half-shut eye. “You might have to feed it to me intravenously. I can’t move.”
“One strategically placed ice cube and I bet I could have you off that table in a millisecond.”
The mischief in her tone warned him that she would probably make good on the threat. With a groan he shoved himself up, rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. When he finally focused on her, and got an eyeful of bare skin, he snapped awake instantly. She’d taken off her jacket and the dress she wore hung by two narrow straps of fabric. The naked skin of her shoulders looked translucent in the sunshine and her pale hair shimmered like gold dust. He didn’t have to imagine what that skin felt like, the way it slipped like warm satin beneath his fingers, and he itched to relive the experience all over again.
She held the glass out and he took it, their fingers touching for only an instant, but it was long enough to send a shock wave of sensation up his arm.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a gulp of the icy liquid—when what he should have done was dump it over his head. “I’m almost finished with the
lawn.”
“No hurry.” She drew one leg up and rested her chin on her knee. “I was hoping we would still be here when your mom wakes up. I’d like to meet her.”
“I’m, uh, not sure if that would be a good idea.” At the wounded expression she gave him, he rushed to explain. “It’s just that she’s fragile right now. She’s on some pretty heavy medication and in a lot of pain. I wouldn’t want anything…upsetting her.”
“I understand,” she said, but it was evident that he’d hurt her feelings.
“Jane—”
“I’m curious about something,” she said. “Why do you cut your mom’s lawn?”
As always, her rapid shift of subject threw him. “Well, she’s had back problems for years. It’s too strenuous for her.”
“But, why do you have to do it?”
“You heard Lisa. She does everything else.”
A tiny wrinkle of frustration formed in her brow. “I guess what I’m asking is, if money isn’t an issue, and you’re pressed for time, why not hire a lawn service?”
“Ugh.” He collapsed back on the table, throwing an arm over his face. “We’re going to have one of those discussions, aren’t we? The kind where I walk away feeling like a heel.”
“I don’t mean to make you feel like a heel. Honestly. I’m just trying to understand why you feel it’s your responsibility.”
“Look, I know you don’t understand this, but since my father died I feel responsible for my mom and Lisa. They’ve been very dependent on me. If I don’t keep on top of things, I feel as if I’m failing him somehow.”
“Have you ever considered that they’re perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. Don’t you owe that to them? I mean, what were to happen if, God forbid, you were injured in the line of duty. What if you were killed? What would they do then?”
He didn’t answer. He only lifted his arm and gave her that look, the one that said she was butting her nose in where it didn’t belong. She knew she was pushing her luck, yet for reasons she didn’t understand, she couldn’t seem to let it drop. “Is there a day that Lisa doesn’t call you for something?”
He snorted. “I wish.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if she didn’t?”
He gave her a duh look.
“Then why not hire her some help? Have someone come in a couple hours a week to stay with your mom so Lisa gets a break. If you take some of the pressure off her, maybe she’ll lighten up on you.”
“I could never entrust my mother to a stranger. She would hate that.”
“Have you ever asked her?”
“Jane—”
She held up a hand. “I know, I know—butt out.”
“I should probably finish this so we can get out of here.” Mitch sat up and hopped down from the table, signifying the end of the discussion.
At least he was talking to her again. And little did he know, it was far from over. Just delayed. “I guess I’ll go back inside.”
As she started across the lawn, the mower sputtered back to life. She heard a loud thunk, then a shaft of pain pierced the back of her head, throwing her forward. She felt herself falling in slow motion, until she hit the ground hard on her knees. Stunned, she curled into a ball, cradling her head. She could smell the earth and feel the cool grass against her forehead, but everything felt fuzzy and surreal.
Get up!
She heard the harsh voice vibrate through her mind.
Answer me, or I’ll make you sorry.
An unexpected wave of terror gripped her, stealing her breath. It rose up from somewhere deep inside, paralyzing her. She wasn’t even sure what she was afraid of, she only knew that she had to run, to hide. He was looking for her, lurking in the shadows. A nameless, faceless presence so sinister, so evil, it was barely human.
Run, a voice inside of her pleaded, but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t think past the numbing fear. Then she felt pressure on the back of her head, the warmth of a hand on her back.
He was going to get her. Punish her.
“Jane. Look at me.”
Her eyes shot open at the impassioned plea, focused on the face gazing down at her. The gentle brown eyes filled with concern.
The surge of relief she felt left her weak and trembling.
“Christ, you scared me,” Mitch said, his own voice thick with relief. “When you wouldn’t answer me, I had this fear that you would wake up and not know who you were and we would have to start all over again.”
“What happened?”
“Something shot out from under the mower and hit you in the head. You’re bleeding.” He held his bloodstained T-shirt for her to see. She winced when he re-applied it to her stitches. It hurt, but nothing like the pain when she’d awoken in the hospital.
“Are you okay? Can you stand?”
“I think so.” She took his hand and he helped pull her to her feet, but a wave of dizziness buckled her knees from under her.
“Whoa.” Mitch caught her under one arm. “Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”
“Good idea.” She leaned into him as he led her to the picnic table and sat next to her. She let her head fall to his shoulder, sighed as he stroked the hair back from her face. The crippling fear had eased. She felt safe now—but for how long? He was still out there. She didn’t even know who he was, yet she could feel him waiting, biding his time. “Something has changed.”
He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, down the line of her jaw. “What do you mean?”
“Someone is after me. Someone…evil. And I don’t think it’s the man from the store. This is different.” She lifted her head, looking up at him. His eyes were narrowed, his brow creased with concern. “It’s so close. I can feel something happening. I can’t even explain it. I only know that something has changed.”
“You’re remembering,” he said. “It’s coming back to you. I could see it when you looked up at me. You expected to see someone else, didn’t you?”
Biting her lip, she nodded. “I can’t see his face, I can’t hear his voice, but I know he’s there. And there was something else, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but now I think I understand.”
“What?”
“Not only was I terrified, but I felt so…alone. Like there wasn’t anyone to help me. Anyone who cared. I felt hollowed-out and empty.”
The arm around her tightened. “You’re not alone. I’m with you until we figure this out. I promise.”
With a swell of gratitude and warmth also came the realization that she trusted him implicitly. And though every instinct warned her against it, it was almost a relief. As if some burden had been lifted.
Without thinking, she reached up to touch his face, smoothed the crease in the corner of one eye with her thumb. He covered her hand with his own, pressing it to his cheek. Then the back door flew open, crashing against the aluminum siding, and they both turned in the direction of the commotion.
Lisa charged out toward them. “What happened? I saw you go down but I was helping mom to the bathroom and I couldn’t leave her. Are you hurt?”
“Something flew out from under the lawnmower and pegged me in the head,” Jane said. “I’m all right now.”
“Are you bleeding?” Lisa brushed her brother’s hand away and lifted the compress. “Eww. Does it hurt?”
“A little.”
Lisa pressed the shirt firmly to her head.
“Lisa, what on earth is happening out there?” The demand originated from the back of the house and Jane turned to search out the source—a shadow behind the screen of the bedroom window. Mitch’s mother.
Uh-oh.
“Christ,” Lisa muttered, rolling her eyes heavenward. “The doctor keeps telling her not to get up by herself. Does she ever listen?”
“Nothing is happening, Mom,” Mitch shouted across the yard to the open window. “Go back to bed. Everything is fine.” He turned to his sister and hissed under his breath, “Get in there and make her lie down before she hurt
s herself.”
Lisa curled her hands into tight fists, hissing back, “Why don’t you go in and make her do it. I’m sick of fighting her.”
“Who is that out there with you, Mitch?” their mother called.
“No one,” Mitch called back, looking nervously to Jane, as if he thought she might spontaneously shout out her identity.
“Oh! Is that the amnesia woman Lisa told me about?”
Mitch shot Lisa a look of pure venom. “You told her.”
Lisa shrugged, like she didn’t see the big deal. “Sorry. Jeez, I didn’t know it was a secret.”
“Bring her inside, I’d like to meet her,” their mother ordered, her shadow fading from the window.
“Aw, hell, now where does she think she’s going?” Mitch dashed toward the house, Lisa close behind. Jane followed, holding the shirt to her head. By the time they all piled through the back door, Mitch’s mother was clearing the kitchen doorway.
Jane hovered behind Mitch, struggling to reconcile the image of the frail, fragile woman she’d pictured, with the vibrant, alert woman standing across the room. Mrs. Thompson stood only a few inches shorter than her son, was slim and athletic, and though she clutched the wall for support, the pain of her efforts stark on her face, she was anything but frail. Even in her physically compromised condition she had an air of sturdiness about her, a stance that said, “Just try and mess with me.”
Jane liked her instantly.
“What has the doctor said about you getting out of bed by yourself?” Lisa scolded, speaking to her mother as if she were a naughty child.
Her mother waved it off. “Mitch honey, help me to the couch.”
With a backward glance at Jane—one that said, “make yourself invisible”—Mitch slid an arm around his mother’s waist and led her into the living room. “Shouldn’t you be lying down? I can take you back to your room.”
“Do you need a pain pill?” Lisa asked. “It’s been over four hours since your last one.”
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