She'd threatened to serve him Brussels sprouts and he'd almost believed her when he'd seen her buy them at the supermarket. But in the end she hadn't done it.
Instead, it was all perfection, right down to the candles and the Bordeaux. And yet she made it seem so easy.
As she cooked and served him the meal, he saw a whole new side of her. In the kitchen she was utterly at home and completely self-assured. Her bags still sat in the living room, waiting to be unpacked. But all the groceries and cooking utensils she'd bought were put away.
She kept the talk light and companionable. When they'd finished eating and were sharing more wine, she explained all about her new job.
"I'll start out doing mostly prep work," she said, "and that's fine with me. I can chop, slice and dice with the best of them. But Eden says I can run things Tuesday and Wednesday nights if I work out. And by the time the busy season starts next summer, well, who knows what might happen."
"Yeah," he muttered wryly, "who knows?"
"You know Eden's pregnant, don't you?" She laughed. He watched her, thinking that her skin had a soft radiance to it in the light from the candles that flickered between them. "I mean, it's pretty hard to miss, if you've seen her. She's due in a few weeks."
He finished off his fourth glass of wine and confessed he'd yet to meet the wondrous Eden.
"Well, you'll know her when you see her. Tall and gorgeous, with strawberry hair and a stomach out to here." She held her hand away from her body to show what she meant.
"Sounds memorable."
"Oh, she is. She is." Olivia leaned in a little and pitched her voice to a volume suitable for sharing secrets. "But the real story is that Regina's pregnant, too."
"Who's Regina?" Jack helped himself to more wine.
"She's Patrick's wife. Patrick is Oggie's second son. Regina and Patrick have been married about three months and she's only two months along. So they're kind of keeping it just in the family, for now."
Jack sat back in his chair, thinking that the wine and the good food had produced a pleasant glow. He should probably be leaving soon, but he was reluctant to break the mellow mood.
Olivia picked up her wineglass and sipped from it. "So tell me, how are the accommodations at Swan's Motel?"
He gave her a patient look.
"What?" She batted her eyelashes. "Not deluxe?"
"No. Not deluxe." He realized she didn't have his room number. "By the way, I'm in room 203. Just in case."
She repeated it. "Room 203. Thanks." They stared at each other for a few moments. Then he remembered himself and looked away.
Brightly she asked, "You know about Chloe Swan, don't you?"
He glanced at her once more. "Who's Chloe Swan?"
She fiddled with her glass. "She's the town scandal."
"Well fine, but who is she?" He raised his own wineglass to his lips.
"She used to run the motel where you're staying. But now she's going to prison. So her uncle, Chuck Swan, has taken over."
"I've met Chuck. But why is this Chloe Swan going to prison?" Jack drained his wineglass once more.
"Well, Chloe always loved Patrick—you know, Regina's husband, Oggie's middle son?"
"Got it." Jack set down his glass.
Olivia filled Jack's glass for him. "Chloe's very beautiful, I understand. She's got pale blond hair and a terrific figure and men really go for her."
Jack remembered the drawing of the come-hither blonde over the couch in the motel office and realized who she probably was.
Olivia was still talking. "But Chloe's always been obsessed with Patrick. And then, this summer, Patrick married Regina. And Chloe went over the edge."
"You mean she went crazy?"
"Exactly. She lost it. Completely." Olivia went on to tell a long, involved story that ended with Patrick Jones being shot.
When she finished, Jack refilled his wineglass again and asked, "Is this for real?"
Olivia solemnly crossed her heart. "It's the truth, I swear. And now Chloe will be doing time. And her poor Uncle Chuck has to run the motel, which he's been doing for over a year, anyway, because Chloe had run off with a stranger previously and been gone for fourteen months."
"Who told you all this?"
"Eden and Amy, mostly. Amy's Brendan's wife. Brendan's the one who—"
"I remember who Brendan is."
She chattered on. "And I've talked a lot with Regina and Delilah, too. Do you know Delilah grew up despising her brothers and her father?"
"That I can understand."
Olivia clucked her tongue. "Oh come on, the Jones men are great."
"Right. They're great. Just great." He toasted her with his wineglass, drank and set it down.
She put her hand over his. "Oh, Jack. You'd like the Joneses if you gave them half a chance."
Jack watched her mouth move. Suddenly he was having trouble making out her words. Right then all he could think about was the feel of her soft palm on the back of his hand.
Her touch was light. She probably meant it as no more than a companionable gesture.
But for Jack her touch could never be merely companionable. Not when a bolt of heat shot up his arm and his heart started thudding a deep, needful rhythm inside his chest. Not when forbidden memories assailed him, and his defenses were down from too much wine.
"Jack?"
He couldn't speak.
"Jack?"
He wanted her closer.
Slowly he turned his hand over and captured her wrist. He gave a tug.
She rose, pliant and so sweetly willing, and dropped into his lap almost before he realized she was on her way.
The soft weight of her was a miracle. She smelled of wine and coffee and that fresh, indefinable something that was only hers.
"You're so damn cute." The mundane words seemed ripped up from the depths of him.
She looked at him, her eyes luminous as the twin candles in the center of the table.
What was it she did to him? It was the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. It was desire, and yet so much more. In her sky-colored eyes he seemed to see a fresh chance. She made the world new again.
It was only a fantasy; he knew it. But when he looked at her it seemed real. With her, somehow, he could almost believe he would find what he was missing.
Even with Sandy Chernak, the policewoman who had loved him and been good to him and whose death had nearly broken him, he'd been more careful, more guarded, more a prisoner inside himself.
But Olivia was different. He had known it from the first—when she'd looked up from that blackjack table and their eyes had met and locked.
Olivia cracked him wide open. She looked right down into his soul.
And he let her do that. He liked it when she did that. She lifted her arms and set them on his shoulders. "Kiss me, Jack." It was agony, this need he had for her. "Kiss me, please."
With a low, urgent moan he captured her sweet mouth.
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
He was like a starving man.
And Olivia was utterly content to ease his hunger. A joyful groan escaped her. She pressed herself against him, opening her lips for him, so his tongue could enter and have its way with hers. She clutched his shoulders, loving the good, hard feel of them, kissing him back with everything that was in her.
His mouth wandered. He kissed a searing trail down her throat. She held him close.
"Oh, Jack." The words she'd longed to say were on her lips. She let them take form. "I love you so."
And that was when he froze, became a statue in her arms.
"Oh, no. Oh, Jack." She clutched at him, begging him with all of herself not to pull away.
But he only took her hands and held them, craning back from her, staring hard into her eyes. Soon enough, beneath his harsh regard, she stilled. Then, very gently, he lifted her and set her on her feet.
He stood. "Thank you for the dinner. There's no doubt about it.
You can cook."
And then he turned and headed for the door. She watched him go, out of the kitchen and across the living room.
"Jack."
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, his big shoulders held stiffly, as if whatever she might say next would be a knife in the back.
She moved swiftly into the living room, halting just a few feet from him.
"I meant what I said, Jack. I love you."
He flinched. "You don't. You're confused."
"No, Jack. I'm not the one who's confused."
He pulled open the door. Outside, the night was cold and the sky was full of stars. "Good night, Olivia."
She stood in the doorway and watched him go.
After that, Jack didn't trust himself to get too close to Olivia. Though he watched over her, as he'd sworn to do, he also kept his distance.
He heard from Ben Quail that she'd had her phone hooked up. Ben's grandson was the technician who'd done the job. He also learned from Sunshine that Olivia was doing just fine at the Mercantile Grill, catching on quickly and already beginning to make useful suggestions.
Sunshine knew all about Olivia's progress in her new job because Sunshine was Jared Jones's daughter by a previous marriage, which made Eden Jones her stepmother. Every time Jack went to Lily's Café for a meal, Sunshine was ready to make him eat his vegetables and to fill him in on how Olivia was faring at the Grill.
Nights generally found him at the Hole in the Wall. It was a good place to keep an eye on Olivia. And what else was he going to do with himself in a town this size, anyway?
The only real drawback to visiting the Hole in the Wall was that Oggie Jones hung around there, too. Once or twice, Jack caught Oggie staring at him. It was a watchful look, a waiting look. A look that sent cold fingers of dread slithering up Jack's spine. Jack would turn away.
And when he would glance over again, the old coot would be cackling with his cronies over some traveling salesman joke, paying no attention to Jack at all.
It wasn't a big deal, Jack decided. The old codger could send him all the significant looks he wanted. Jack would simply ignore him.
Beyond ignoring Oggie, Jack monitored his own alcohol consumption. He was careful to nurse one or two beers through the evening. The last thing he needed was to end every night drunk.
As one day faded into another, he found he began honestly looking forward to his evenings at the bar. The people were always friendly. The regulars—like Rocky Collins, Tim Brown and Owen Beardsly—could usually be talked into a game of pool or poker, which Jack sometimes won and sometimes lost. In the end he figured he just about broke even.
Even Jared Jones, who tended the bar most nights, was okay. Once Jack overcame that spooky feeling that he experienced with all the Joneses—that feeling of having known them before—he found he actually liked Jared. There was a sense of inner peace about Jared Jones that Jack couldn't help but respect.
On the bench in front of the grocery store one afternoon, when Jack had been in town almost a week, Ben Quail tried to tell Jack that until Jared Jones married Eden Parker, he'd been the worst brawler and troublemaker of the whole Jones gang, a man with a chip the size of Alaska on his shoulder.
"I don't believe it," Jack said flatly.
"Believe it or not, it's the absolute, unvarnished truth."
Right then, two little boys came running at them from across the street. Breathless, they asked Jack if he'd buy a few candy bars to help them raise money for their soccer team. Jack forked over ten bucks while Ben looked on disapprovingly.
"What're you gonna do with ten candy bars?" Ben wanted to know.
"It's not your problem. Have an Almond Delight." Jack handed the old man one of the candy bars in his lap.
"You're getting a reputation." Ben began peeling off the wrapper.
"As what?"
"An easy mark." Ben took a big bite. False teeth clicking, he inquired as he chewed, "How many candy bars and gift subscriptions have you bought in the six days you've been here?"
"That's my business." Jack looked up the street, away from Ben. Maybe he had bought more from the local kids than he should have. But the little suckers were damned hard to resist. Most of them were polite and enthusiastic. He liked to see that in kids. He liked to see kids with dreams still shining in their eyes.
"So tell me, Jack. You on vacation, or what?"
"You're a nosy man, Ben."
"Never said I wasn't. And I've been wondering what you're doing around here. Not that I don't like your company. I do. But this isn't tourist season. Don't you have a job you should be going to?"
"Yeah. I've got a job. But I've got a … responsibility, too."
Ben snorted. "We're talking about that new woman in town, am I right?"
Jack didn't reply.
Ben lifted his stooped shoulders in a shrug. "Hey. We all know she's your woman."
"Who's we?"
"The whole town. Get used to it. Around here the word privacy doesn't exist. What do you do for a living, anyway, Jack?"
"Is this any of your business?"
"Of course not." Ben grinned broadly, displaying those huge artificial teeth. "But tell me, anyway."
Jack stood. "See you later, Ben."
Ben called after him. "You might as well tell me yourself. I'll only ask around. I'll know by tomorrow, you see if I don't."
Jack avoided the old meddler for two days. But when he sat down beside him the following Monday morning, shortly after breakfast, the first words out of Ben's mouth were, "Well, if it isn't our local private eye."
Jack said nothing, only shook his head.
"Gal, we gotta talk." Leaning on his cane, Oggie stood on Olivia's porch. Behind him on the street, the old Cadillac he drove sat like a galleon at anchor. "Can I come in?"
"Of course."
As Oggie hobbled over the threshold, Olivia ran around the room, grabbing up various articles of clothing that Delilah and Eden had loaned her. Somehow she was always forgetting to hang up her clothes. She was working hard to be a better housekeeper. But Rome wasn't built in a day, after all.
"Have a seat." Her arms full of outerwear, Olivia gestured awkwardly at the couch.
"Don't mind if I do."
Oggie stumped over to the most comfortable chair and dropped into it as Olivia darted to the back bedroom, tossed the sweaters and scarves inside and shut the door.
"Can I get you anything?" Olivia asked politely, when she joined Oggie once more.
"Cup of coffee, four sugars. And an ashtray." Oggie waved one of his cigars.
"Fine. I'll be right back." Olivia hurried into the kitchen, poured the coffee, ladled sugar into it and found a cracked saucer that would have to pass as an ashtray. She quickly returned to the living room with her offerings.
Oggie was already puffing away. He tossed his match in the makeshift ashtray almost before Olivia could set the thing beside him.
She handed him the coffee. "Here you go."
He took it and sipped. "Ah. That's good." He set the mug down beside the cracked saucer. "Eden tells me your father's coming for a visit."
Olivia smiled. "News travels fast around here."
"That it does, that it does."
Olivia had called her father and invited him and Mindy only that morning, and she'd spoken to Eden just an hour before.
"I want to have a special dinner, while my father's here. I hope you'll come."
"Gal, you couldn't keep me away if you locked me in the county jail and swallowed the key."
"Good. Then I'll plan on you."
There was a silence. Then Oggie asked, "Now. You got any clue why I'm here?"
Olivia sighed. "It has something to do with Jack, I imagine."
"Damn right. He ain't comin' around, is he?"
She shook her head sadly. "No. He isn't."
"But then again, he ain't left town, either. So there's hope."
"I'm glad you think so." Olivia tried not to sound as discouraged as sh
e had begun to feel.
Oggie slurped up some coffee and then spoke quite gently. "He's been avoiding you, ain't he?"
Olivia felt ashamed, as if she was letting everyone down somehow. "Yes."
"You can't let that go on."
She threw up her hands. "What am I supposed to do? I've already been completely shameless. You have no idea."
The old man cackled.
Olivia blushed. From the Jones women, she'd heard a lot about Oggie and the things he'd done in his life. "Okay, maybe you do have an idea."
Oggie did some more cackling. "Maybe I do, maybe I do."
Olivia stared at the old man for a moment, considering. She remembered Delilah's warning, to watch out for Oggie's schemes. But she was starting to feel desperate. She would take any help she could get. She prompted, "Really, Oggie. What should I do?"
Oggie looked pleased. "Well, I am flattered you've asked me. I truly am. Even though if you hadn't, I'd have told you, anyway. But you didn't doubt that, did you?"
"No. Now tell me."
"All right, all right." Oggie sat back. He drank from his coffee and puffed on his cigar. Then he sagely announced, "You need more time with him."
Olivia groaned. "Well, I know that."
"But you ain't makin' it happen, are you?"
"It's pretty hard to spend more time with a man who won't come near me."
"You got to make him come near you."
"I know that. But how?"
"Well, let's see." Oggie rubbed his gray-stubbled chin. "What we need to do is to give him a reason to get closer, to be around you more."
"What kind of reason?"
"Maybe something to protect you from."
"But what?"
"Don't rush me, gal. I'm thinkin'. I'm thinkin'…"
The next morning Sunshine was waiting for Jack when he took his seat at the counter at Lily's. There was a worried look on her smooth young face. "Have you heard about the mountain lion?"
"What mountain lion?"
"The one Olivia saw last night."
"When?"
"Near the cabin my father owns."
"Your father is Jared Jones?" Jack was still having trouble keeping all the relationships straight. Everybody seemed to be related to everyone else.
A HOME FOR THE HUNTER Page 15
