“Nothing. Nothing of consequence.”

Jenna recognized the familiar 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—”

“What! Tell me where you are. I’ll be there on the next flight.”

“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?”

“Yes,” Jenna said, her antennae quivering. “Alice, honestly, there’s no mystery here. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“I know.”

“And I really do intend to work. I’m going to get a jump on my next book while I deal with…whatever details have to be dealt with. There’s nothing for you to do up here and you’ll be bored.”

“When have I ever gotten in the way of you working?” Alice chuckled. “First of all, you never let anyone or anything get between you and a deadline. And besides that, why would I? My job is to keep you on schedule, not derail you.”

Jenna laughed. “Is that what you call all the nagging?”

“I didn’t hear that. Listen—I’ll come up and stay while you sort out your relative’s estate. I could use a break myself. I’ll…sightsee or go hiking or some such thing. Whatever people do up there this time of year.”

“I may have to go along just for the amusement factor.”

“What? I didn’t catch that.” Alice paused. “Is there some reason you don’t want company?”

“Of course not.” Jenna fought a surge of guilt for holding back the details she ordinarily would have shared. She wasn’t even sure where the reluctance came from. Alice was a huge part of her life—but the life she’d made for herself didn’t seem to extend into the remote reaches of this sleepy valley. For the first time since she’d left Lancaster County as a teenager, she felt the absence of the protective façade she’d created in New York City, and the realization made her uneasy. “You know what? I’d love it if you came up. We can play tourist together. I could use a little playtime.”

“Wonderful.” Alice’s voice softened. “I look forward to it. See you soon.”

“Yes. See you soon.”

Jenna tilted her head back and closed her eyes. The house was silent, but a dog barked in the distance, an ecstatic staccato cadence. Beam, probably. She smiled to herself, thinking of the exuberant animal. More birds joined the vociferous jay, and a symphony of song floated through the window. Somewhere a cow lowed in counterpoint to a tractor’s rumble. The breeze danced over her skin, bringing memories of sultry nights, rich earth beneath her bare feet, and the promise of a summer of freedom. When was the last time she’d ever believed that kind of freedom existed? Long before that last summer. Jenna sat up, suddenly glad Alice was on her way. Alice would arrive and life would settle back to normal. Safe and secure and with no surprises.

“Do you think it’s a hernia?” Katie Pritchard fidgeted outside the stall, her pretty Irish features twisted in worry. Her blue eyes darted between her stallion and Gard.

“No.” Gard carefully palpitated the swollen scrotum while keeping on the lookout for an errant rear hoof. Windstorm was high-strung and irascible under the best of circumstances, and now, in pain, he was completely unpredictable. “This kind of rapid swelling is more often trauma. Did Faerie Queen kick him?”