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Dane didn’t want sympathy. He wanted payback. Pure and simple. And nice, kind men didn’t use perfectly innocent young women to achieve it.
Then her lashes lifted and her gaze found his. “Well? Are you married or not?”
He’d borrowed Wood Tolliver’s identity. He could easily have borrowed Wood’s wife, at least in name. It would solve one thing, at least. Hadley Golightly wasn’t likely to give him a second glance if she believed he had a wife somewhere. She’d do her level best to make up for the inconvenience of their accident, and she’d be hospitable while she was about it, but that would be all. He knew it in his bones. He could easily remove her from his own temptation, just by telling her one simple three-letter word.
Yes.
“No,” he said. “I’ve never been married.”
Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes softened. She covered his hand, gently pressing against it, directing the damp washcloth more carefully against his cut. “That’s… good,” she finally whispered.
Oh, yeah. It was good all right. He felt her body against his from chest to thigh and felt as randy as a teenager as a result.
“What’s going on here?”
Hadley nearly jumped out of her skin at the tight voice. The stack of towels she’d refolded tumbled right off her legs and she scrambled from Wood’s lap, looking up at Shane and feeling as guilty as if she’d been caught running naked down Main Street.
Wood closed his hand over hers, preventing her from going far. “Your sister’s been rendering first aid,” he said smoothly.
Hadley’s face felt on fire. Her entire body felt flushed, for that matter, and not all of it stemmed from embarrassment at her big brother catching them.
“Mebbe you need to go to the hospital. I’ll drive you on over.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but a decree.
Wood pushed to his feet, bringing her with him. “Sorry to disappoint you, Sheriff. I’m pretty comfortable right here.”
Hadley looked from Wood to her brother. He hardly showed it, but she knew Shane was furious and for some reason Wood was egging him on. “Shane, what are you doing here?”
He eyed her. “You wanted me to split more logs for you before tonight, remember?”
Of course. She felt even more idiotic. Shane always went out of his way to make sure she had plenty of wood on hand in case the power went out, something the old house often suffered during a storm, and she’d specifically asked him to help her, given the current weather forecast.
“Mr. Tolliver can help me,” Shane went on.
She made a face. “Now you’re just being ridiculous. If anything, Wood should be resting. I nearly boxed Stu’s ears for letting him work at the garage this morning on that poor car of his.” She crouched down and swept up the linens in one huge armload and dropped the candles on top. “And I have work to do, if you don’t mind.”
She shouldered past Wood into his room. She dumped the blanket and fresh sheets on the head of the bed and rapidly folded the clean towels, yet again, to leave in a stack on the dresser near the bathroom door. She set out the candles, checked that there were still plenty of matches in the antique silver box of them on the dresser and then turned back to the bed, only to find Wood was already scooping up his paperwork that was scattered over the foot of it.
Aware of her brother still standing near the doorway watching with plain displeasure, she whipped off the green-and-yellow quilt. In minutes, she’d stripped and remade the bed with clean linens and the extra blanket. Then she smoothed the quilt top back in place, plumped the pillows a little and hurried to the door, the old sheets in her arms. “Sorry for interrupting your work,” she murmured to Wood, nodding at the sheaf clenched in his long fingers.
She sailed past her brother and dumped the sheets down the laundry chute hidden behind a panel in the hallway. They’d land smack dab in the center of the laundry room in the basement. When Shane didn’t move, she turned and glared at him. “I can call Dad about the logs if you prefer. He’s forever offering to help.”
“I said I’d do it,” Shane groused. His boots scraped along the fussy carpet runner as he stomped past her, then out the back way through the kitchen. If the slam of that door was anything to go by, Hadley knew his temper was in fine form.
She let out a long breath and cast a sideways look at Wood. “He’s not usually so disagreeable.”
“You don’t have to make excuses for anyone, Hadley.”
Maybe she didn’t. But he was certainly the first person to tell her so. She didn’t know what it was about the man that alternately made her feel strong and brave, then… not.
So she fell back on the safe and familiar.
“I’ll have lunch out within the hour. Sorry to have disturbed you.” She turned to go. She needed to change the linens in the tower room also, and leave out extra blankets for all the regulars, who took care of their own laundry. But she stopped. “Are you sure your head is all right?” She looked at him.
His expression seemed stark.
“Save your worry, Hadley, for someone who needs it.”
Something curled inside her at the words. Not a command or a rebuff.
But a plea?
She dismissed the very notion of it. Her imagination had clearly shifted into overdrive.
She nodded and went to finish her tasks and when she set out lunch that day, she resumed her usual custom of spending the peaceful hour in her room with her papers and pen. But instead of furiously scribbling out the stories that were forever tumbling around inside her head, she sat on her cushioned window seat and stared blindly out the window, the pen seemingly forgotten in her hand.
The only character in her thoughts was a real, live person named Wood Tolliver.
The weather forecast proved correct and a fresh snowstorm hit that evening after dinner. Vince kept the fire stoked with the additional split logs Shane had left. Hadley mixed up a large pot of hot cocoa, and most everyone congregated in the parlor where the fire cheerfully blazed despite the howling wind that rattled the windows.
Everyone except Wood.
When she’d finished up the phone calls of arrangements for Evie’s surprise birthday party, Hadley tried not to let his absence concern her. But it was a hopeless endeavor, doomed to failure from the very start. And finally, while everyone else was occupied with a raucous game of charades, she set aside her party notes and went to the kitchen. She fixed a tray of cocoa and cookies and carried it down the hall. She rapped her knuckles softly against the door panel.
He didn’t answer, and standing in the hall far longer than necessary only ended up making her feel particularly pathetic. The man was finally getting some well-deserved rest.
Who could blame him for that?
She returned the tray to the kitchen and bade a good-night to everyone in the parlor. She noticed that Nikki Day was no longer there. Mrs. Ardelle told her that she’d retired. Apparently during Hadley’s futile wait outside Wood’s door.
As far as Hadley had been able to determine, Nikki—while friendly and polite—didn’t seem to be having a particularly enjoyable time. She was clearly pregnant, but had only picked at her dinner. And Mrs. Ardelle had said she’d done the same during lunch.
If only to ease her concern about someone, Hadley went up the tower and knocked softly on that door.
After a moment it opened. Nikki’s face looked pale and drawn. “Yes?”
“I just wanted to make certain you were warm enough up here. If you’re not, I could start a fire in the fireplace for you.”
Nikki pushed up the sleeves of her dark-green sweater. “I’m fine without it. And the room is lovely.” She looked away for a moment.
Hadley had to curtail the impulse to give the woman a hug. She looked as if she needed one just as badly as Joanie ever had. But she also recognized the woman’s innate sense of privacy and didn’t want to cause her any discomfort. “If the storm doesn’t deliver too much snow, you’ll be all set for the sleigh ride you requested. Tomorrow after lunch.”
A shadow came and went in the other woman’s eyes. “You must think it very odd that I’ve come here this way. Going on things like sleigh rides alone.”
“I think you have your reasons,” Hadley said honestly. “And it’s a pleasure for me to make your stay special in the same way my mother must have for your relatives who were here before.”
“My fiancé’s parents, actually,” Nikki said. “They were here on their honeymoon. Cody always talked about us coming here.” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “I never thought I’d be coming by myself.”
Forget privacy. Hadley reached out and gently squeezed Nikki’s cool hands. “If there’s anything I can do, you just ask. I have all of the guest registers that my mother used. Maybe you’d like to look at them sometime. I’m sure we’d find their visit listed.”
Nikki’s eyes looked moist. She nodded. “Thank you.” She squeezed Hadley’s hands in return, then reached for the door. “Good night.”
“Good night.” Hadley headed back downstairs and went to her room. It was chilly and she added a blanket to her own bed the way she had the others, then—since there was no sound at all through the door to Wood’s room—she indulged herself with a hot bath and a book. No matter the fact that she’d retired for the night, her mind was simply too busy to sleep.
The book was good, and the bathwater was cold, the bubbles long gone when the lights flickered and went out.
She stared into the inky darkness. Well, great. But it wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with a power outage, and as long as she ran Tiff’s, it would undoubtedly not be the last.
She tossed aside her book, well out of the way of any water splashing, and climbed out of the tub, racing the towel over her chilled skin and fumbling into her robe again. Going by feel, she pulled the stopper in the tub and padded into her bedroom. She lit the oil lamp on her dresser and went back into the bathroom, tidying up by the dim light there. Then she went out into the hallway and checked the rest of the house.
All was still. Silent, save the slow tick of the windup anniversary clock sitting on the mantel in the parlor.
She pulled back the lacy curtains to look out the front.
The entire street was dark, meaning it wasn’t just Tiff’s that suffered a power outage this time. By the moonlight, however, she could see the fresh drifts of snow in the street.
It took her a moment to make a shape out of the shadows. But she realized when the shadow moved, becoming two distinct forms in the middle of the street where the snowfall wasn’t quite as deep, that it was two people.
One headed off down the street, a genderless blob of dark coat and hat. One headed toward Tiff’s.
She straightened abruptly, letting the curtain fall back into place. She had no time to escape down the hall to her room, and in seconds, she heard footsteps on the porch, followed by the creak of the front door.
Great. Just great.
She didn’t even have the sense to extinguish her oil lamp. She just stood there in the parlor, listening. Visualizing his motions, along with his sounds—closing the door behind him, the creak of his leather jacket being removed, the nearly soundless tread up the hallway, passing the parlor doorway.
Pausing.
“So you’re the glow in an otherwise dark night.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. The lamp bobbled in her hand, and she quickly steadied it before she dropped the infernal thing and set fire to the place. Her other hand clutched the lapels of her robe together. “The power is out.”
He was kind enough not to point out that he’d undoubtedly noticed that particular point. “Is everything okay?”
She wanted to ask him about the person he’d been with. An assignation? She’d never before used that word. Never had cause. She didn’t have cause now. The man was only a guest—a reluctant visitor in Lucius—a situation for which she was responsible. “Everything is fine. I was just, um, checking the place over. To be safe.” It was the gospel truth, yet she still felt as if she’d been caught spying on him. She hurriedly left the parlor. “Here.” She extended the lamp to him. “You’ll need this to get around.”
“It’s late.”
So, he could state the obvious as well as she could. “Yes.” And maybe that was why she felt unaccountably emotional. “Do you want the lamp or not? I can find my way around here with my eyes closed.”
He still didn’t take it. He took another step, entering further into her small circle of light. She could see her black scarf hanging from one hand, his jacket from the other.
“You’re upset.”
“Of course I’m not. I have nothing to be upset about.”
Another step. His head tilted a little to one side. “Hadley, it’s just a power outage. Nothing to worry about.”
If only she’d been quick enough to use that as an excuse. “Right. I know.” Did she smell perfume on him? “Well, here. Take the lamp. Don’t want you tripping on something and cracking open your head more than it’s already been.”
“I don’t need the lamp.” He tossed aside the jacket and scarf and closed his hands over her forearms beneath the wide sleeves of her robe. “I want to know what’s got you so jumpy. Is it your brother-in-law again?”
“What? No. Charlie never bothers me. Last night was just because, because he was drunk.” His fingers were cold, yet they still made her skin heat, particularly when his hands slid farther up, curving around her elbows. “I told you that.”
His thumbs glided over her skin. “Then, what’s wrong, Hadley?”
Each gentle brush of his thumbs yanked her nerves tighter. The lamp’s flame danced inside the tall glass globe, and she tightened her shaking grip on it, holding it sternly between them. But keeping control of one part of her left her tongue unfortunately unguarded.
“Who was that woman? I thought you didn’t know anyone in Lucius.”
Chapter Six
Dane cursed himself. He had no desire to upset Hadley. “I went to the Tipped Barrel.” Which didn’t answer her question at all.
Her eyes looked liquid in the flickering light. “You probably shouldn’t drink with a head injury.”
He forced himself to keep his touch light on her arms, though his fingers didn’t want much more in life at the moment than to keep exploring. To see if her skin was as exquisitely soft everywhere else. “I wasn’t. I played some pool.” And got Mandy’s latest report on the investigation.
She looked disbelieving. “Oh. Well. Hope you didn’t lose your shirt or anything. Vince plays pool there sometimes. And Palmer Frame. He was one of the EMTs who came with the ambulance.”
“Yeah. I saw him there. He mentioned the surprise party you’re throwing for your sister. Sounds like you’ve invited half the town. I didn’t see Charlie.”
“Well, that’s something at least,” she murmured. She lightened up her guarded hold of the lamp, moving one hand to clutch the overlapping lapels of her pale robe tightly together. As if he needed any more reasons to wonder what she wore beneath it.
The thick terry cloth covered her from head to toe, and the only breach in it—which he’d already taken advantage of—seemed to be the wide sleeves. He needed her to go to bed so he could stop letting himself be distracted by her.
“The place was pretty quiet, actually. Probably because of the storm.”
She nodded. Pressed her lips together and nodded again. “Well.”
Yeah. Well. He let go of her and grabbed up his jacket from the back of the chair where it had landed. “Lead the way,” he said. “I’ll follow.”
She moved past him, and he got a heady hint of some warm, feminine scent. Flowery, but not sweet. And her hair was damp at the ends, he realized as she walked down the hall, turning back now and again as if he were likely to get lost along the way. Shower or bathtub, he wondered, and kicked himself for it, since he was the one to suffer the consequences of wondering.
She paused near his door until he’d opened it, then followed him inside when he did. He went stock-still for a moment, but she didn’t look at him as she crossed to the dresser and set the lamp on it long enough to light the two fat candles she’d left there earlier that day. Then she slipped out of his bedroom again.
“Good night, Wood.” In a half-dozen steps, she disappeared behind her own bedroom door, giving him no hint whatsoever of the room beyond her door.
Probably pure innocence, to suit its occupant.
He closed his own door and curtailed the impulse to thump his head against the wood in frustration. The candlelight flickered over the walls, casting enough light for him to see by. He dumped the jacket on the end of the bed, grabbed one of the candles and went into the adjoining bathroom.
The delicate sent of flowers hit him with the subtle finesse of a two-by-four. He shoved the candle on the glass shelf above the sink and sat on the edge of the old-fashioned, deep tub. He knew if he reached down and touched the bottom, it would still be wet.
His mind filled with the image of Hadley in the tub and he deliberately eyed his dim reflection in the mirror across from him to banish the thoughts. He was losing it, pure and simple.
He didn’t like it.
He yanked off his shirt and went to the sink, flipping on the faucet to douse his face with the frigid water.
