“And here I am,” Jenna whispered into the silence. She had nothing to fear. Her past was behind her, except when she slowed down enough to let the memories catch her unawares, and she was careful not to do that. That helpless girl, that empty life, were dead and buried. Dead and buried.

She thought about the phone call and a stranger in Vermont, her distant relative. A woman who had known her name and just because of that, had left her all that remained of her life. Jenna had gone so long without a connection to anyone other than Alice, she resented this person she’d never known reaching out from beyond death to touch her life. Her face heated as she recalled the last conversation she’d had with the coroner. She’d been rude, she realized now. She had the excuse of having felt one step away from death herself, but she wasn’t usually so cold and abrupt. But what else could she do?

She had a life of her own, a busy life with many obligations. She couldn’t take time out to go… Time out. Time away. Just what the doctor had ordered.

Now that Alice had canceled her upcoming engagements, she’d be stuck in Manhattan for the summer—with Alice worrying and watching her to see that she didn’t overwork—whatever that meant. If she wasn’t going to tour, she was definitely going to write, and she didn’t want the specter of this minor episode hanging over her head. Alice would no doubt want an accounting of her time. If she escaped to Vermont, she could work with no one to bother her. No one could claim she wasn’t resting or taking a break if she was sequestered in some off-the-map town in the middle of nowhere, for God’s sake.

Jenna threw the sheet aside, her mind racing. She could fly up, take care of whatever paperwork needed to be taken care of, stay on to get a jump on her next book, and make everyone happy. She might die of boredom, but at least she wouldn’t be defending her every action to her overprotective agent. By the time she came home, Alice would have forgotten all about this little event and life could get back to normal.

A few weeks in hiding. The perfect solution.

Jumping naked from bed, she needed a second to get her balance. Damn, she was still light-headed. After retrieving her phone, she called Alice.

“Jenna, hi,” Alice said when she answered. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep?”

“What? Oh. Yes. I’m good. Listen, can you contact the travel agent? I need you to make plane reservations to Vermont for me. Tonight.”

“I’m not following,” Alice said.

“I think the doctor’s right. I should probably take a little break. That phone call earlier—turns out a distant relative died and I need to take care of—things. I’ll need hotel reservations too.”

“Can’t you go tomorrow or the next day? You need to—”

“I think I should go now,” Jenna said. “I should probably see to the funeral arrangements myself.”

“I can do that for you,” Alice said.

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“All right, if you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

A few weeks. A month at the outside. She could handle anything for a month.

Chapter Five

Gard fingered the loose change in the pocket of her khakis while staring out the solitary window at the two Rutland Airport runways. At almost midnight on a weeknight, the small regional airport was nearly deserted. The occasional footstep or distant cough echoed down the empty halls. Behind her in the tiny arrivals waiting area, a prematurely careworn woman in her early twenties juggled a sleeping baby and two fussy toddlers while, despite the din of whining children, an elderly gentleman somehow managed to snooze in the row of black plastic chairs. Replaying the unexpected conversation she’d had with Jenna Hardy a few hours before, Gard tracked the lone set of red lights on the arriving aircraft as it descended through a sea of glittering stars in the inky sky.

“Dr. Davis,” Jenna had begun as soon as Gard answered the phone, “I’ve decided to come to Vermont tonight to take care of the arrangements for my…uh…Elizabeth Hardy.”

“Tonight?”

“I want to get things settled. I was hoping you could help with that.” Hardy’s tone had been brisk and businesslike. And definite. The woman sounded as if she was used to calling the shots, and Gard hadn’t wanted another argument with her. Just the same, she bristled at the near command.

“Of course.” Gard had still been at the clinic, finishing up her billing and reviewing the financial statements for the last quarter. Her stomach churned with a mixture of fatigue, acid, and aggravation. Her part-time office assistant, Bonnie, had failed to file the last quarterly unemployment taxes and now Gard owed penalties. She was as annoyed with herself as she was with Bonnie since she should have been overseeing the accounts and financial paperwork, but not only didn’t she have time, she hated doing it. Growing up, she’d never had to worry about where money came from or where it went. If she needed something, all she had to do was write a check or use the credit card her father had presented her on her thirteenth birthday. Clothes, car, private school tuition. Vacations in the Hamptons. Winter skiing in Vail. She hadn’t thought of herself as a spoiled rich kid, she was simply living the life she’d been born into. How could she know her experience was vastly different than that of the majority of people in the world? All her friends were of the same economic and social class. By the time she’d entered Harvard she’d been aware of the great divide between the wealthy and the non, but not until she’d had the blinders ripped away one morning by a stranger did she really understand that privilege came at a price—a price often paid by others.

Annoyed at the plague of memories, Gard stalked toward the gate where Jenna Hardy’s flight was disembarking. Pacing behind the TSA guard, she studied the travelers who straggled up the gangway and out into the concourse, trying to pick out Hardy. She pictured Hardy as an icy blonde, haughty and unapproachable, like her mother and Susannah and her brother’s wife Daphne. She was typecasting and she knew it, but then, from what she’d experienced of Jenna Hardy so far, she definitely fit the mold of socialite.

A woman appeared out of nowhere, stopping a few feet in front of Gard and perusing her with an amused smile. In low heels, she was almost Gard’s height, and expensively dressed in tapered chocolate brown pants and a rust-colored cashmere sweater that hugged her smallish breasts. The reddish-brown top complemented her wavy, chin-length chestnut hair and accentuated her truly remarkable spring green irises. She was slender, with flawless ivory skin that rarely if ever saw the sun. Her pallor, together with the faint smudges beneath her large, luminous eyes, gave her a fragile, vulnerable air.

“Dr. Davis?”

“Yes. Ms. Hardy?” Gard realized she’d been staring and hoped Hardy had not noticed. It wasn’t as if she didn’t see beautiful women every day. Well, perhaps not every day, but she had seen beautiful women in her life before, and still did. But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been captured quite as quickly by the elegant arch of a brow or the seductive slant of a smile. Jenna Hardy’s face wasn’t perfect, the bridge of her nose had a small bump and her jaw was just a little too square to be classically beautiful, but she was…arresting. And damn it, she was staring again.

Gard held out her hand. “Gard. Gard Davis.”

Jenna laughed and took the offered hand—larger than hers, the palm was rough, but the grip surprisingly gentle. Gardner Davis was not at all what she’d expected. On the phone, the doctor had been irascible and gruff, and Jenna had pictured someone sharp-faced, hard-eyed, and humorless. Although Davis’s features were boldly hewn, her broad forehead and strong jaw gave her a confident, commanding look, even if at the moment, she appeared slightly flummoxed. Her discomfiture was rather endearing, considering how from across the room her dark good looks had made her seem remote and unapproachable. The appreciative glint in her eyes as she took Jenna in, more than once, was quite nice also. Jenna was no stranger to admiring glances, but she was very aware that the looks were for Cassandra. She hadn’t dated a woman who hadn’t been dating Cassandra Hart in…forever. Her choice, of course, and one she did not regret.

“Thank you for picking me up, but you needn’t have,” Jenna said. “I could have taken a cab.”

Gard automatically reached for the carry-on Jenna juggled along with a briefcase and suitbag. “Let me take those. You would never find a cab out here this time of night, and even if you did, no one would drive you the forty miles to Little Falls.”

Jenna rankled at the suggestion she couldn’t manage on her own. “It’s been my experience that for enough money and a generous tip, you can find someone to do almost anything.”

“Yes, I imagine that’s true,” Gard said stiffly.

“I can carry my own bags, thank you,” Jenna said, annoyed by the criticism apparent in Gard’s tone.

“It’s quite a hike out to the parking lot. No need for you to struggle.”

“Always so gallant, Dr. Davis?”

“Not so you’d notice.”

Despite her aggravation, Jenna relinquished her grip on the luggage. She wasn’t going to let false pride stand in the way of good sense. Her headache had abated, but her stomach hadn’t weathered the flight quite as well. She was still a little shaky, she wasn’t going to be able to carry all her luggage, and there were no redcaps in sight. “I have another bag that I checked.”

“Planning to stay for a while?”

Jenna wasn’t certain why everything Gard Davis said sounded like an accusation, as if she were being judged and found lacking. She’d had a hellacious day, her temper was none too steady under the best of circumstances, and she’d stopped accepting insults in silence the day she’d crawled out of Darlene’s trailer. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

“Not at all,” Gard said. “Baggage claim is this way.”

The overly bright, faintly grimy room held three luggage conveyors, two of which sat motionless. A third rattled around with a few stranded bags dotting their black belts in an endless loop. Gard headed in that direction.

Jenna hurried to keep up. “Then what—”

“I doubt you’re going to find Little Falls very entertaining,” Gard said. “Certainly not what you’re used to.”

“Oh? What do you suppose I’m used to?”

“The flight you took came up from New York City. Is that where you live?”

“Manhattan,” Jenna said. “Does that automatically make me incapable of enjoying a few quiet weeks in the country?”

“Not at all. Plenty of people come up here from the city for a break. But they usually stay at trendy resorts or elegant B and Bs. Little Falls is hardly on the map.”

“Believe me, I’ve had my fill of hustle and bustle for a while. I just spent a month plane-hopping from one glitzy hotel to another.” Jenna stopped herself from saying more—she didn’t ordinarily reveal details of her personal life, and Davis’s thorny disposition hardly inspired confidences.

“Who is Cassandra Hart?” Gard asked just as a loud whine followed by a piercing screech signaled the lurching start of a conveyor belt.

“I’m sorry?” Jenna scrambled to remember if she’d mentioned who she was.

“Earlier, when I called. You answered ‘Cassandra Hart.’” Pieces of luggage began to spew from the hidden recesses behind the baggage carousel, and Gard slid closer to make the grab. “What’s it look like?”

“That’s mine,” Jenna said, heading for a large black Pullman. Caught off balance by Gard’s reference to Cassandra, she took advantage of the diversion to consider her answer. Before she could tug the large suitcase off the carousel, Gard got to it first and lifted the large bag as if it were no heavier than Jenna’s briefcase.

“So?” Gard asked.

“I’m Cassandra Hart,” Jenna said.

“You have two names?”

“Cassandra Hart is my pseudonym. The name I write under.”

Gard lifted her brow. “You’re an author?”

“Yes, actually, I am.” Jenna shouldn’t have been surprised that Gardner Davis had no idea who she was, but the knowledge was unexpectedly irritating. And the irritation was even more irritating. Why should she care?

“What do you write?” Gard pulled out the retractable handle on the Pullman, grabbed the carry-on, folded the suitbag over the top of the Pullman, and rolled the assembly toward the double glass doors leading outside.

“Novels.” Jenna hurried to catch up. “Let me take one of those.”

“I’ve got them.”

“Do I look like I’m incapable of carrying my own luggage?”