“The assumption that I was leaving today?” she asked nonchalantly.
“No.” His hands shifted their grip on the steering wheel. “Look, based on what you told me about the Death card, and about the conversation you said you had with Wertinger, I came to the conclusion that things were over between the two of you. Otherwise, I would never have…well, things wouldn’t have happened the way they did. Last night. So if I was wrong, you need to tell me. You’ll stay at my house, but the sleeping arrangements will be…different.”
“I see.” Her voice was calm, but inside her belly was doing grateful, relieved flutters. Thank God she hadn’t misread things. “That’s commendable of you, Ethan. Thank you.”
He muttered something under his breath as they turned onto the narrow dirt road that led to their respective houses. When she saw the way his fingers tightened on the steering wheel, she realized she had to stop reveling in her internal relief and clarify the situation.
“It’s over between us. Jonathan and me,” she added quickly, just to be clear. “I ended things with him yesterday—you were right. He wasn’t happy, but I was clear. I have no regrets or second thoughts, either. Believe me. And today, well…he was expecting me to come by tonight to pick up my things. I’d told him I was driving home today.”
“Something you didn’t happen to mention to me,” Ethan said in a low voice that wasn’t quite devoid of emotion. She caught a hint of stiffness in there, perhaps, and felt a renewed pang of guilt.
“I didn’t mean to not tell you…it just didn’t occur to me that it would matter. Until this morning, I mean,” she added quickly when his mouth tightened again as they jounced along the potholed track. “And then things sort of spiraled out of control with Maxine and Juanita coming and the letters…And then, well—I didn’t want to make any assumptions myself. About…anything.”
He glanced at her, then returned his eyes to the narrow road. “It was because of what happened last night that you caught me by surprise when you announced you were leaving today.”
“I can see how that would be. I’m sorry—that was rude, as you’ve been so hospitable—”
“Christ, Diana, it’s not about me being a damned innkeeper.” He braked a little more sharply than necessary, jolting them to a halt in the parking area at his cabin. “And I’m not being fucking hospitable. I’m being—”
She’d never know what possessed her to do it, but later Diana realized it had been the perfect thing: to reach over, grab him by the shirt, and yank him across the front seat to kiss him.
Oh, yes. Definitely the right thing.
His body, vibrating with tension, stilled for a moment, then eased into calm and softened into slick sensuality. He curled his hand around the back of her head and met her kiss with his own, drawing her as close as possible in their awkward position.
From inside the cabin, Cady was barking like a maniac, alerted by the arrival of the vehicle. Ethan smiled against her lips, gave her one last luscious nibble at the corner of her mouth, then pulled back and studied her with warm, chocolate eyes.
“Let me take care of her, and then we can finish this…conversation…inside.”
“Does that mean there’s room at the inn after all?” she teased, sliding her hand down his warm, stubbled cheek and jaw.
“Most definitely.”
Ethan stretched lazily.
Sun rolled in through the wide, sliding doorway that overlooked the back yard from his generous master suite. A warm, delicious, lake-scented breeze wafted through the screen door. The birds were singing their version of the “Hallelujah Chorus” as they fed at the collection of feeders below, and his well-sated hormones were humming their rendition as well.
It was Monday morning. Late morning. Nearly noon, if he was going to be honest, and why not?
There wasn’t a better reason for sleeping in and lounging about than spending it with a lover. Especially after a most delightful span of nearly twenty hours since they’d cleared up all the lingering misapprehensions and communications that had threatened to keep them apart.
He’d let Cady out a little past dawn and came back to a warm bed with a fascinating woman sleeping in it. Then he felt Diana slide from the bed some time ago, and when she came back, she brought her laptop and two mugs of coffee. He’d sipped politely (even though he wasn’t quite ready for caffeine), then dozed some more while she tapped on her keyboard, scrolled through her email, and did whatever it was that got her up—really up; not just to let the dog out—at the ungodly (and unnecessary) hour.
He loved summer.
He loved Wicks Hollow.
He loved his work, his dog, his cabin in the woods.
He loved Diana Iverson.
Ethan’s eyes popped wide open as his heart stopped for, literally, thirty seconds. He almost had to thump his chest to get it going again.
Nope. Not possible. No way.
How long had he known her? How long had it been since they’d stopped being suspicious adversaries?
Impossible.
But a little voice bothered him deep inside: You know what you want. You always have, Ethan. It’s never been a matter of weighing and analyzing and deciding for you. When you find the right thing, you just know.
That wasn’t his own conscience or inner guide speaking to him. No, that was Jean Fickler. She’d said those sorts of things not only to him in person, but also in the letter she’d written—and never sent.
The one he opened last night when he had a private moment.
How could she have known? How could she have known I’d fall for her niece?
“What is it?” Diana had removed her reading glasses (she had no idea how wildly sexy she looked with the so not-lawyerly sparkling blue cheaters she wore…along with after-sex curls and nothing else) to look over at him.
He just smiled at her and pushed away the nagging little voice. “Have I mentioned I have a fetish about naked women wearing geeky glasses?”
“I don’t believe you have.” She pushed said glasses back up her nose, eyes sparkling with interest. “Tell me more.”
“Why don’t you put that laptop aside so I can,” he said with a smile.
Oh, yes, a Monday morning, lolling about in bed for hours with a sexy, smart, prickly (sometimes) woman was about as good as it got.
The only thing that would make his life perfect at that moment would be if there was someone else to let Cady out.
But all good things must come to an end, so some time later, Ethan finally rolled from the bed and took his first love outside to toss the tennis ball.
Because she’d been rather neglected over the last twenty-four hours, he spent extra time exercising her—and even took her down to the lake for a swim. The water was perfect: not too cold, and just the right amount of refreshing for an early summer afternoon. A few boats were out—he saw Trib driving by with a handsome man he didn’t recognize on a sleek pontoon that zipped quietly through the water, and a few fishing boats. There was a canoe and two kayaks as well. Some kids were swimming from one of the public rafts near each end of the lake. And Cady was panting happily as they paddled about in the water.
Life was good.
By the time Ethan came back from exercising Cady—by taking a swim, from the looks of their dripping bodies—Diana had showered, dressed, finished a call with Mickey (who hadn’t heard about the unhappy death of Ginny the office manager and demanded all the details), and was just plating a simple lunch with what she’d scrounged from Ethan’s meager pantry and fridge.
To her relief, he left the wet, stinky dog in the screened porch to dry off. She was becoming used to the big, dangerous-looking canine, but that didn’t mean she liked having her underfoot. Diana was never certain what might set off a dog like Cady and turn her angry or aggressive. Not that the black lab had done anything other than bark at newcomers (or squirrels)…but you never knew. She had scarily big teeth.
“Thank you,” said Ethan, looking at the plates with somethin
g like dismay. “I didn’t mean for you to have to cook for me.”
She lifted a brow. “As long as you don’t mind that I was digging around in your pantry and fridge, I don’t mind at all. Plus, I was hungry.”
“You probably didn’t find much,” he added—and she realized that embarrassment over the lack of options (and maybe the fact that his fridge wasn’t exactly spotless) was part of the reason for his dismay. “But you can dig around in my pantry, fridge…or anywhere else you want…any time.” He gave her a sly smile and she laughed. “At your own risk.”
“Well, I did find some moldy green stuff that might once have been green beans.”
He smiled wryly. “Oops. I think Fiona brought me those a few weeks ago. She says I need to eat more vegetables.”
Diana, who’d noticed a terrible lack thereof—moldy or otherwise—didn’t comment other than to lift her eyebrow. “After we eat, I need to go check on the cats. And I should do some work too.”
“I’ll run to the grocery store,” he said brightly. “Since you’ll be here for dinner tonight…?”
“If you want me to be,” she replied with a smile.
“More than anything—well, except world peace. Or a World Series win for the Tigers. And even then, it would be a toss-up.”
They were just finishing the very skimpy lunch (tuna salad with crackers, some apple slices, and a few small tomatoes that were verging on wrinkled) when Diana’s cell phone rang.
“Sorry,” she said. “I need to be available for the office—and this is a Chicago number.”
He shrugged. “Hey, it’s Monday. You’re supposed to be working.” He frowned. “I guess I should be working on something too. My agent is waiting for a new book proposal.”
But it wasn’t anyone from her office. Instead, it was a detective from the Chicago PD.
Chapter Eighteen
Ethan’s ears perked up when he realized the caller wasn’t Wertinger or Diana’s office, and from the expression on her face, he thought the news—whatever it was—was more good than bad.
He cleared the table and washed up while she took notes and murmured things to herself, allowing the person on the other end (it sounded like a woman) to do most of the talking. Then he went to towel off Cady so she could come inside and eat.
He couldn’t help but notice how Diana edged away whenever his beloved lab came near her, and the wariness that had her looking over every time Cady barked. Almost as if she expected the lab to launch into some sort of snarling, Cujo-like mass at any given moment. Even when Cady was calm, Diana hardly acknowledged her, and Ethan had to admit it broke his heart a little.
Cady was a lover of a dog, and Diana was his lover, and he wanted his two girls to get along. But clearly, Diana did not appreciate the canine species.
“Well, we’ll just have to change her mind about that, won’t we, girl?” he said, giving her sleek fur a pat as he finished drying her.
When they came back in the kitchen, Diana was off the phone. She looked up and there was a glint of relief in her eyes.
“Good news?” he said as he filled Cady’s food dish.
“Yes. They’ve got Lawrence Amerson in custody and are going to charge him. Apparently, he gave up quite a bit during the interrogation when Detective Brewer brought him in. Between Maxine seeing him in town—apparently the detective got a call from her, and she was very specific about seeing him at the gas station on the same day Aunt Jean’s house was broken into. That along with the fact that he was at the golf outing here in April, as well as some telling activity on his credit card—they’re feeling pretty confident he’s the perpetrator.”
He came up behind her and began to gently massage her slender shoulders. Damn, they were tight—considering how hard he’d worked to help relieve her stress over the last day. Guess he’d have to work at it a little more. He smirked to himself. “So he’s in custody in Chicago, and you’re here.”
Safe.
“I can’t believe he killed Aunt Jean,” she said, staring into space. “Over a piece of paper.”
“It all comes back to money,” he said. “The paper would destroy AXT in the lawsuit, and that would cost a lot of people a lot of money.”
She nodded. “The question they’re still trying to determine is whether Lawrence did all this on his own, or whether someone else—like Martin Kelliski—was involved.”
He sat down next to her as a thought struck him. He considered his next words carefully…but, oh man, he had to ask. “You—and your firm—are representing AXT in the lawsuit, correct? But showing that schematic—well, it’ll cost them in the suit. If there are no other copies, and no one else knows about it, why would you even—”
“Disclose it?” Her voice was cool and her expression became marble-like. “Precisely. Why would I submit a document that I know would lose the case for my client—or at least cost them in a number of ways?”
“Right.”
She looked at him steadily. “Because it’s the right thing to do. It’s the ethical thing to do. I could get slapped by my firm—I might even lose my chance to make partner—and our client could dump us to the tune of a loss of millions of dollars a year…but at least I’d be able to look at myself in the mirror every day.”
He felt his insides uncoil. There was no doubt she was speaking the unvarnished truth. “Do you always do the right thing?”
“I try.”
Ethan smiled, then leaned forward, sliding his hand along her smooth, warm cheek. “So do I.” She smiled against his mouth as he kissed her tenderly. “You’re a hell of a woman, Diana Iverson.”
“I try.”
Diana pulled up to Aunt Jean’s injured lake house and parked her Lexus in front of the detached garage.
“Here kitties!” she called brightly, then stood there waiting to see if they’d make an appearance from inside the smoke-blackened house, the cracked-door garage, or from somewhere in the depths of the woods.
Though she couldn’t see it, she glanced in the direction of Ethan’s cabin—less than a mile to the south through the woods—and smiled. It was all she could do to keep from humming to herself, and spinning around in a little dance.
He was really wonderful. And witty and interesting and thoughtful and, as Mickey would say, “mad in his sexiness.”
Since yesterday, when they’d come back to his cabin after the “meeting” in town with the Tuesday Ladies, they’d just moved along in sync: enjoying each others’ company, spending time doing their own work separately, enjoying the weather, and of course making love.
He was pretty damned good at that, she had to say. A little flutter of heat reminded her of the way he looked at her when he was moving inside her—like he really saw her. And thought she was beautiful.
The only imperfection in the whole arrangement was Cady and her wet, inquisitive nose—and those big teeth. But Diana could get used to her, if things kept going and got serious…
“What am I thinking?” she said aloud, walking over to the porch. What does all this mean?
Slow down, Diana. Slow the hell down.
As she sat, Motto made her appearance. Her dainty pink nose poked from around the corner of the porch and the rest of her followed as she sauntered over for some attention.
It was, Diana decided as she scratched Motto under the chin, nice to have a moment to herself to think. Ethan had gone into town a while ago to run some errands and get groceries, and she’d come over here to see to the cats. And to have some space to think about all of this. It felt as if her life had been turned upside down again…but in a good way this time.
They’d both agreed that tonight, their last night together (for now anyway), would be spent eating a late dinner on the upper deck of his cabin while watching the sunset—just a few feet away from his big, comfy, well-used bed.
Ethan wasn’t delighted that she was leaving to go back to Chicago—though of course he understood the necessity—but he’d made it clear he’d miss her. And that he wanted
to keep seeing her.
Could they continue this relationship with him in Wicks Hollow and her in the dog-eat-dog, eighty-plus hour a week legal world of Chicago? Of course, he’d be back on campus at U of C in a couple months, and in the meantime, she could theoretically come up here on the weekends—
Diana looked over as a movement in the woods caught her attention.
When the movement became a figure, then a person and she recognized him, she gasped aloud and bolted to her feet so quickly Motto jumped back and hissed.
“Jonathan! What on earth are you doing here?”
He walked out of the woods—what had he been doing in there? Why was he even here?—gaping at the house.
“What happened? When did this happen?” He was staring at the burned out shell of the farmhouse. “Diana, good God, what happened?”
“About a week ago,” she said, still utterly flummoxed by his presence. She hadn’t realized she’d never told him the house had burned. “What are you doing here? Where’s your car?”
He gestured vaguely into the distance, still staring at the remains of the house. “Well, that explains why you weren’t answering the phone here. And that does change things…still,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “I can work with it. I’m flexible.”
When he withdrew his hand, he was holding a gun.
Chapter Nineteen
“What—what are you doing?” Diana could hardly form the words; the situation was so completely surreal.
How could he be here? With a gun? Aiming it at her?
Why?
What was going on?
To her surprise, he sat down next to her on the porch, still holding the revolver—and keeping it pointed in her direction. He unslung a small pack that he’d been carrying over his shoulder and leaned against the porch column so he could watch Diana.
Sinister Summer Page 28
