by Karen Fenech
Clare nodded. “I will.”
She let herself out of Gladys’s room and made her way down the hall. A small woman pushed a mop across the floor. The sharp tang of disinfectant wafted on the air. Clare was glad to note that the pastor had been wrong about Gladys’s feelings toward Beth. Her love for Beth was apparent.
Clare wondered what time the grocery store closed for the day. She wanted to go there and find out what she could about the trucker Beth left town with. She also planned to speak with Patty Burby.
Clare pushed through the glass door into bright sunlight. She shielded her eyes with the back of one hand and with the other, reached into her purse dangling from her shoulder, digging for sunglasses. A man was walking across the parking lot toward her. A trick of the light, he looked like . . .
“Jake.”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken his name aloud until she heard it.
He was close enough to have heard as well, though he didn’t speak. His eyes, narrowed against the sun, fixed on her with an intensity she remembered all too well.
Too late to pretend she hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t too late to walk away, though. She wanted to walk away, really wanted to, and because she did forced herself to stay put and meet his gaze.
Jake now stood in front of her, blocking the sunlight. Clare lowered her hand. His chin was at her eye level. He hadn’t shaved. Black beard shadowed his jaw, made his tanned skin look darker.
The last time she’d seen him, from the other side of her bed, he’d looked a little pale. Tired from working too hard. Tired from going another ten rounds with her.
That was three years ago. He didn’t look to be suffering from sleepless nights anymore. He looked rested and fit. The blue T-shirt he wore over jeans showed his hard, tough body. Was he still with the Bureau? If so, by his casual attire, he wasn’t working today.
“I could say the obvious ‘small world,’” Jake said.
It had been big enough for her until a moment ago. But in response, she said only, “Must be.”
In the awkward silence, a group of women in hospital uniforms dashed by, causing a slight breeze that smelled strongly of spicy perfume.
Jake cleared his throat. “Don’t tell me the Bureau’s sent you to make sure I’m not lazing my days away fishing?”
He said it with a smile, an obvious attempt at lightness. Clare didn’t return the smile.
“You’re assigned to the Columbia office?”she said.
“Resident office in Farley, actually.”
That surprised her. After they’d stopped seeing each other, Jake had put in for a transfer out of the New York office. They’d been members of the same squad for a time and had been paired off. Working together after things ended had strained them both. Jake was very good at what he did and had earned the commendations to prove it. He could have aimed a lot higher than Farley. She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t.
She didn’t know where he’d gone—didn’t want to know—but she would never have imagined him choosing Farley. He was a city boy. She wouldn’t have figured he would come here voluntarily. He must have been desperate to create distance between them for him to accept this post.
“Just me, one other agent, and an admin assistant,” Jake went on. “How about you? What brings you to our fair town?”
When she’d known him, she’d never mentioned Katie. On the nights he’d stayed at her apartment, she’d stored her cork board and files on her sister in a closet. She had no reason not to tell him about Katie at this time. Her being in Farley and the reason for it was likely climbing the town grapevine at lightning speed. But there was no reason to bring Katie up to him now, when she hadn’t before.
“Vacation,” she said simply.
He heard the lie. The humor in Jake’s gaze vanished and in an instant his gaze grew razor sharp.
“I recall you had a preference for sand and surf,” he said.
No doubt he was referring to the one brief getaway they’d taken together—a spur-of-the-moment jaunt following a particularly grueling assignment. They’d both been wound tight. He’d asked her where she’d like to go.
White sand beach. A pounding surf. No one else around for miles.
Her words returned to her. The next morning, she’d awakened and found he’d packed her suitcase and had found the perfect place for them to go. She didn’t care for the reminder of how perfect it had been between them once.
“Not this time,” she said. “Good-bye, Jake.”
Before he could say anything further, Clare walked away from him.
# # #
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Karen Fenech writes contemporary and historical romantic suspense. Her novels, originally released in hardcover by Gale under the Five Star Expressions imprint, have received critical acclaim and have been praised by New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors Kat Martin, Maureen Child, and Debra Webb. Her novel BETRAYAL has been translated into Japanese, and her short fiction has been translated into Swedish, Danish, and Norwegian.
She lives with her husband and daughter. Visit her website at: www.karenfenech.com
