by Jane Porter
That kiss.
Wow. Just uh, wow.
It’d been five minutes since he’d kissed her, at least five minutes, as they’d left Livingston behind and were traveling south on 89, back to Marietta.
And yet her lips still tingled. Her whole body tingled. Every little nerve seemed to be awake and dancing.
Maybe the kiss wasn’t really that good.
Maybe it just seemed that good because it had been ten months since she’d last kissed anyone.
Maybe Ben was a lousy kisser and she’d forgotten that kissing could light her up like a Christmas tree.
Or maybe Shane was just damn good.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Shane said, breaking the silence.
“I was just trying to figure something out.”
He shot her a swift glance. “And what would that be?”
She shouldn’t say it. She shouldn’t. “Are you that good of a kisser, or was Ben just bad?”
For a long minute Shane didn’t say anything and her question just hung in the air between them. And then his hard jaw eased, and he smiled at her, the smile knowing, and more than a little wicked. “I’m just really good.”
She didn’t know if it was his smile or his words but she went hot all over, so hot it was like jumping into a boiling pot. “That’s pretty confident.”
His lips quirked. “Or honest.”
She looked at him, her gaze sweeping from the top of his dark head to the length of his sinewy thighs. The man was seriously appealing. “Girls must just fall at your feet.”
He didn’t answer right away. “I don’t have a problem meeting women, no.”
“So what are your rules when you date?” She saw the lift of his brow and hurriedly added, “You know what I mean. You obviously have them, because you’re thirty-something and single.”
“That’s because I’m married to my career. There is no time for a wife or kids.”
“Do you want kids one day?”
He shot her an indecipherable look. “Not planning on a family, but having grown up bounced from place to place, I’d never do that to a kid. If I made one, I’d raise him.”
He returned his attention to the highway and they drove in silence for a mile or two before Shane added, “I’m not a fan of abortion. I wouldn’t dictate to anyone else. We each have our own beliefs, but for me, life is life, and it needs to be protected.”
“You really mean that?” she whispered after a moment. “Or are you just saying what I want to hear?”
His laugh was low and rough. “I’m not a kiss-ass, no.”
She flushed and crossed one leg over the over, thinking the inside of the Range Rover suddenly felt far too small and warm. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Good. Because I’d never tell someone something just because I thought it was what they’d want to hear. If you ask me something, I’ll tell you the truth.”
“I’m glad.”
He shot her a cool glance. “Do you want to ask me something?”
She gave a tug on her seatbelt, trying to loosen it, feeling as if she couldn’t breathe. “No.”
“You can. Is there anything about the book, or the Sheenans—”
“No.” But she’d said it fast, too fast, and they both knew it. Jet swallowed hard, gathering her thoughts, and courage. “But if something comes up, if there is something I want or need to know, I will ask. I promise.”
“Good. Far better to ask, than to assume.” He flashed her a smile, his hard jaw easing, his teeth white in the light of the dash, and just that quick, lazy smile made her pulse drum and her chest ache with an emotion she couldn’t define.
She liked him, and she was going to have to be careful not to let herself care too much. Jet had a problem of caring too much…falling too hard. It was why she’d been avoiding dating. Better to keep men at arm’s length than let one close and risk getting hurt again.
Finally the lights of Marietta glowed in the distance. “Almost there,” she said.
Shane put on his signal as they approached the turn off for Marietta. “You mentioned rules earlier,” he said, braking for the off ramp. “And I guess I do have them. In my world, a man never turns his back on his woman, or his child. Ever. So if you want rules, those are mine. Other than that, everything else is negotiable.”
And then they were on Bramble, passing the high school, traveling the dark street to Kara’s.
Pulling up in front of Kara’s yellow house, Jet saw that the front porch light was on, and more lights shone from the inside. Kara must still be up.
“Here we are,” Jet said, reaching for the seatbelt buckle.
Shane shifted into park. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“You don’t have to. It’s right there. I’m not—”
But he turned the engine off, and swung the door open and stepped out, ignoring whatever else she was going to say.
Jet frowned as his door slammed shut. She swung her door open, not about to sit and wait. She didn’t do helpless. She hadn’t been raised to be dependent. “Thank you for dinner,” she said crisply, meeting him on the pavement. “I had a great time.”
“Thank you for joining me,” he replied, matching her formal tone before his hard jaw eased and he flashed a crooked smile. He walked with her towards the porch. “I just hope it won’t get you into too much trouble with the Sheenans.”
The sidewalk was narrow and her shoulder brushed his chest as they walked. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.” She was so conscious of him there, next to her, as she reached into her purse, fumbling for the key. “Good luck with your book. I can’t wait to read it.”
“Is that it?” he asked, his voice husky, as if amused. “This is goodbye?”
“Well, you never know…we’re both busy. I might not see you again.”
“Marietta has a population of eleven thousand—if that. It’s kind of hard not to bump into people here.”
She flushed and hoped it was dark enough that he couldn’t see. “That’s true. Our paths will probably pass. Again. Sometime.”
“Or, we don’t wait for our paths to cross, and we make a plan. Set a date. Say for brunch on Sunday? I’ve been told the Graff does a very nice Sunday brunch.”
Her pulse jumped. The Graff, being the Graff Hotel, also known as Troy Sheenan’s hotel. He’d bought the abandoned turn-of-the-century hotel and spent a decade restoring it. Today it was the finest four-star hotel between Three Forks and Yellowstone but it was also a place that she probably shouldn’t go with Shane. “I usually go to church with Harley and the kids on Sunday. It’s kind of our tradition.”
“Brock doesn’t go?”
“The Sheenans aren’t big on attending services, but they say a blessing at dinner, and prayers with the kids.” She looked up at him. “Do you attend church?”
“No.”
“I guess you fit right in then.”
“Except that I’m not a Sheenan,” he retorted.
“Obviously. I didn’t mean that. I just meant—” She struggled to find the right words, and then shrugged. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter.”
“So no to brunch,” he said.
“If we care about what others think,” she said.
“I don’t care, but I know you do, and I respect that.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew his car keys. “I’ll see you when I see you. If not at the diner then maybe at Java Cafe.”
Disappointment flooded her. His tone was kind. His words had been kind. He’d said nothing offensive and yet her heart just fell, toppling all the way down. She didn’t want to wait days, or weeks, to see him again. She didn’t want to leave everything so open ended.
She’d loved tonight. Even the uncomfortable and awkward parts.
“I’ve never been to the Graff to eat,” she said hesitantly, feeling her way through this. “I’ve had a drink in their lounge, and I understand at Christmas they do this festive holiday tea on weekends, and a Santa Brunch a week or two before Christmas—” She brok
e off, gulped air. “Do you think it’s terrible that I want to go to brunch with you?”
“No. But I don’t think you’re someone who can handle disappointing her family.”
“We’re not getting married. We’d be having brunch.”
“This is true.”
She looked away, frowned as she remembered how upset Cormac had been tonight. If he didn’t like her having dinner with Shane in Livingston, he definitely wouldn’t like her meeting Shane for brunch at the Graff. But Cormac wasn’t her brother or her father, and he wasn’t the easiest of men, either. He had a stubborn streak a mile long and tended to do what he wanted to do…regardless.
“The hotel’s history is fascinating,” she said after a moment. She turned her attention back to Shane. “Do you know it?”
“A little. I stayed there for a few days when I first arrived in town. Met Dillon Sheenan in the hotel bar for lunch to discuss leasing the Sheenan place. The bar was nice. It looked like a pub, very masculine but stylish.”
“The entire hotel was recently renovated.”
“I understand it stood empty for years before the renovation.”
She nodded. “Troy bought it because it was his mom’s favorite place. His mother used to take her little boys there for special events, back before the hotel went out of business.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Harley told me the hotel nearly bankrupted Troy, too. It was a huge multi-million dollar renovation but Troy believed in the hotel and I think it’s out of the red now. I hope it’s out of the red.”
“You’re full of information.”
She grinned crookedly. “You can’t help picking up bits and pieces of history when you’re here. My students are proud to be Montanans. Most of them love living in Paradise Valley and intend to make their homes here, too.” She shivered at a blast of icy wind. “I have to say, though, it’s cold here. Really cold. And that wind that whistles through the valley from Yellowstone. Brrr.”
“Let’s get you inside then.” He walked her up the steps of the porch. “So, eleven on Sunday? Or should we try for noon so you can attend church fist?”
“Noon would be great.”
“I’ll pick you up.”
“Maybe I’ll meet you there.” She made a face. “Just safer.”
“So the Sheenans won’t like you seeing me.”
“Um, no,” she admitted. “They won’t.”
“Then maybe we shouldn’t. I don’t want everyone upset with you. It’s not fair to you—”
“Or you,” she countered. “And I wouldn’t go if I thought I was hurting anyone, but I’m not. This isn’t about them. So, from a purely selfish standpoint, I want to go to brunch. I like your company and, you know, you’re the first person—outside of Kara and my family—who has reached out to me here, or included me. So really, you’re the first friend I’ve made in Marietta, and after five weeks, it feels good to be making friends.” She searched his face, wishing the porch light was brighter, wanting to better see what he was thinking, but the light illuminated just his jaw and mouth, leaving his dark eyes shadowed. “You know?”
He studied her for a moment, his lips firm and unsmiling, and then he nodded slowly. “I do,” he said quietly.
And then he leaned towards her and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, and then another light kiss to her lips, before letting her go. “Sleep well.”
“You, too,” she murmured, heart thudding hard, before unlocking the front door and slipping inside.
She liked him. Really liked him. And this was going to be a problem.
Kara was awake, waiting for Jet in the living room, watching TV, a glowing fire in the hearth, when Jet arrived home at eleven-thirty. Jet shot Kara a worried look as she peeled off her gloves and then her coat. “What’s wrong?”
Kara turned off the TV. “Your sister was here earlier. She waited for you for almost an hour. You didn’t have your phone on you, did you?”
“No. I left it charging and forgot it. What’s wrong? Did something happen to one of the kids?”
“No. It just seems like your whole family knows you had dinner with Shane and they’re not happy.”
“The Diekerhofs?”
Kara gave her a look as if to say Jet was being deliberately dense. “No, the Sheenans.”
Jet sighed. “The Sheenans aren’t my family. They’re Harley’s.” She laid her coat and gloves on the back of the couch and came around to sit on the opposite end of Kara. “And if Cormac had to go tell everyone…well, that’s rather sad.”
“The Sheenans are really upset about the book.”
“I gather. But why be so protective of McKenna? I’ve met her. She doesn’t strike me as all that fragile.”
“It’s not that she’s fragile, but there’s concern that a lot of money will be made off of a tragedy, and none of the money benefits the victims—”
“The Sheenans want a piece of the book?”
“No. They don’t want it written at all. They don’t want anyone to capitalize on the murders.” Kara rose and took a poker to the glowing embers, spreading them out. “It’s a sordid piece of Marietta history, and no one here wants to see it exploited. And beyond the financial side, it was truly a terrible time, with everyone under the microscope, and no one more closely than the Sheenans.”
“Why the Sheenans?”
Kara sat back down and drew her legs up under her. “The Douglases and Sheenans were neighbors. They shared a property line. In fact, you had to drive on the Sheenan ranch to get to the Douglas’, so whoever the killer was, he’d been on the Sheenan property, too. So when Rory went for help, he went to the Sheenans. Brock and Bill raced to the Douglas house, while one of the other boys summoned help.”
“Brock and Mr. Sheenan were the first on the scene?”
Kara nodded. “Another neighbor, rancher Rob MacCredie, was next, and then the sheriff, fire, and ambulances. But because Bill and Brock were first on the scene, they were questioned again and again—”
“There is no way Brock was part of that.”
“Of course not. But he saw it all, and an investigation always zeros in on family and neighbors. No one escapes unscathed.” She was silent a moment. “I was only six or seven at the time, but I remember how tense everyone was. How scared. No one felt safe anymore. It honestly took years for people to feel comfortable in their own homes.”
“Were any of the Douglas kids in your class?”
“I was the same age as one of the boys that died, but he went to your school, in Paradise Valley, and I attended Marietta Elementary.”
Jet couldn’t even imagine how terrifying it’d be to discover that a child your own age had been murdered in his home, and that the parents couldn’t even protect him. That the parents had been killed, too.
“Why do you think Shane wanted to rent the Sheenan house?” she asked Kara.
“It’s convenient. It’s right there where everything happened.” Kara rose and stretched. “But just because something is convenient, doesn’t make it right. Not when something has caused so much suffering in this community.”
“I would think the community would want justice for the Douglases.”
“I don’t think that anyone really believes the crime can be solved. It’s been too many years. The evidence—” She broke off, sighed. “Listen, I became a district attorney because I couldn’t stand to think that bad guys got to get away unpunished. The bad guys should be held accountable. My entire career is based on righting wrongs, but in this case, there is no identifiable bad guy, and I don’t think there ever will be.” She covered a yawn. “I’ve got to go to bed. I’m heading to Billings tomorrow to see my grandmother, but please call your sister in the morning. I don’t want her thinking I didn’t tell you, and Harley is pretty anxious about talking to you.”
All the more reason Jet wasn’t looking forward to the call. “I’ll call her. I’ll phone after breakfast. I promise.”
But once in her room, Jet did
n’t want to think about Harley or the Sheenans or the horrific murders on the Douglas ranch. She wanted to think about Shane, and the kiss, and how he made her feel…
Of how she felt right now.
Ben had crushed her and she’d thought she wasn’t ready for anything but somehow, inexplicably, she found herself hoping…
Hoping Shane might like her a little bit.
Hoping he’d want to see more of her, not just Sunday, but after Sunday.
Hoping she could get Harley and Cormac and the rest of the Sheenans to respect her friendship with Shane, because really, that was all it was right now.
Yes, he made her feel all excited and fizzy on the inside, but at the same time, she didn’t want romance without a real friendship. Friendship was important. If her breakup with Ben had taught her anything it was she couldn’t have a relationship without honesty and respect and communication.
Changing into her pajamas, she washed her face and then brushed her teeth and climbed into bed.
Tomorrow she’d call Harley and then would go to school and prepare her lessons for the coming week and then Sunday would be brunch…
A little quiver of excitement shot through her. She smiled in the dark.
She shouldn’t like him this much. She shouldn’t.
But he was so fascinating…absolutely larger than life. He wasn’t just ruggedly handsome and intellectually stimulating, but he had a smoldering intensity, which she’d never encountered before, and a sizzling intensity made her so curious.
She wanted to understand the attraction. She wanted to understand him.
Who was Sean Shane Swan Finley? And why did his parents change his name on the birth certificate? And who was the beautiful mother that used to visit him and then vanished so abruptly from his life?
Chapter Five
Shane had waited outside the small, yellow house until Jet was safely inside. He’d watched the front door until the porch light was turned off and only then did he return to his truck, start the engine, and pull away from the curb.
