Three years tomorrow.
Maybe she shouldn’t keep track.
She forced the thoughts and images from her mind, refusing to dwell on the past or to contemplate the empty future. One moment at a time. One day at a time. That was the only way she’d survive.
The first of Sarah’s five guest cabins was just up ahead. Small, cozy, great view of Smith Mountain Lake, it was the perfect place for solitude and peace. It wasn’t what the renter had wanted though. He’d done his research online and called with a particular rental in mind. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, set on a hill overlooking the lake, Meadow Lark cabin had always been reserved for large families. In years past, a single-occupant renter would have taken a smaller cabin or looked for a rental somewhere else. Things were different now. Sarah couldn’t afford to turn business away, and Eli Jennings was welcome to Meadow Lark.
Wind buffeted the cabin, shaking windows and shutters as Jasmine stepped inside. January wasn’t kind. It brought gray clouds. Cold weather. Loneliness. Death. Maybe Jazz was in the minority thinking that, but she doubted it. There had to be plenty of other people who’d just as soon skip the month.
She pulled linens from the closet, inhaled staleness and age. They’d have to be washed. She’d do the curtains in the bedroom while she was at it. No sense doing a partial job. It was an adage her mother had lived by. One she’d taught Jazz. Lately, though, doing nothing seemed preferable to doing anything at all.
Three years. Ticking by. One slow moment at a time. Drifting through her fingers like air. Gone.
And now she was back where it had all begun. Back where she’d met John, where he’d proposed, where they’d spent every vacation for thirteen years, where the girls had laughed and giggled, learned to fish, to boat, to dance in the moonlight and in the sun.
Jazz blinked back tears and shoved the linens into the small washing machine, started the water and realized too late that she didn’t have detergent with her.
“Wonderful. Now I’ve got to go back to the house.” Back to the modest rancher and its memory-filled rooms. Back to Sarah and her broken hip and strangely blank eyes. As much as the retreat had changed, Sarah had changed more, fading, shrinking, becoming a shadow of the vibrant woman she’d been.
Jazz shoved the cabin’s door open with more force than necessary, stepping out onto the covered front porch and nearly walking into a tall, broad-shouldered he-man. Dark blond hair cropped short, hazel eyes surrounded by lashes any woman would be proud of, a scowl that sharpened the hard edges of his jaw and cheekbones.
Handsome.
She shoved the thought away as quickly as it came. Noticing men and what they looked like felt too much like a betrayal. “Can I help you?”
“That depends.” He had a deep Southern drawl that was much warmer than his expression.
“On?”
“On whether or not you’re Jasmine Hart.”
“That depends.” She leaned back against the door.
His scowl deepened. “On?”
“On who wants to know.”
A tiny smile flicked across his hard features before it disappeared. “Eli Jennings. I’ve got reservations.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Jennings. I’m glad you made it here with the weather being so bad, but, as I told you last night, check-in is at three.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind letting me check in early. Mrs. Hart down at the main house didn’t seem to think you would.”
“Sarah would be right on most occasions, but the cabin hasn’t been used in a while. It needs to be aired out and cleaned. I’ll need time to do it.”
“I’ll take care of it.” The finality in his tone refused any further argument, and Jasmine shrugged.
“You’re welcome to move your stuff in now, then.”
“Glad to hear it.” There went the tiny smile again, a subtle tilting of his lips that softened his hard features, but didn’t ease the coldness in his eyes.
He’d said he was a writer when he’d called the night before, but his broad, muscled frame and taut expression belonged on a military man, a cop. A career criminal. Whatever he was, whoever he was, that was his business. As long as he paid the rent on time, she’d leave Eli Jennings and his secrets alone. “I’ve started the linens and curtains. I’m just running down to the house to get detergent.”
“I’ve got everything I need in my truck.”
Jazz pushed away from the door. “Here’s the key then. You’ve got a phone line. Dial-up Internet access. Television with cable. Nothing fancy.”
“If I wanted fancy I’d be at the Hilton.” His smile took the sting out of the words and stole the breath from Jasmine’s lungs. Not a tiny smile this time. A full-blown, melt-a-woman’s-heart smile. No man should have a smile that warm, that decadent.
She blinked, took a step away. It was definitely time to leave.
She strode toward the porch steps, forgetting the icy rain until her foot slipped and she fell backward.
Hard hands wrapped around her waist, jerking her upright, reminding her of what a man’s touch was like—strong, steady, sure.
“Better watch your step, ma’am. The ice is making things treacherous.”
Ma’am? She was thirty-three. Not ninety. And unless she missed her guess, Jennings was a few years older. “Jazz is fine. Or Jasmine.”
His cold hazel eyes raked her from the tip of her scuffed boots to the top of the knit cap she wore. “Jasmine.”
Warm honey. Sweet tea. Deep South manners wrapped in six foot two of attitude and trouble.
Jazz looked away, disconcerted, guilty and angry at herself for being both. “If you need anything, call the house. The number’s near the phone.”
“Will do.”
“If you decide to extend your stay another month, rent is due on the first. You leave before the month is up, there’s no refund.”
“So you told me last night.”
“Just making sure we’re clear, Mr. Jennings.”
“Eli. And we’re very clear.” He smiled again, the fine lines near his eyes deepening, his muted hazel gaze now forest-green.
Definitely handsome.
Definitely trouble.
Definitely someone Jazz should stay far away from.
She took her time retreating down the stairs, absolutely sure she didn’t want Eli’s hands on her waist again. It was bad enough that she could sense his steady gaze following her as she maneuvered the slippery path that led to the gravel drive. She didn’t need to feel the warmth of his fingers pressing into her sides.
A large SUV was parked on the driveway, and Jazz bypassed it, noticing the details even as she told herself they weren’t important. Black tinted windows made it impossible to see inside. Was he hiding something in there? A pet? A person? Something else? If he hadn’t been watching, she’d have given in to curiosity and peeked in the front window.
She sidled around the car, her feet slipping out from under her again. She slid forward, banging into the door of the SUV and grabbing on to the hood to steady herself.
“Seems like you’re having a little trouble with the ice. Maybe I should give you a ride back to your house.” Eli spoke close to her ear, his voice so unexpected, Jazz’s heart leaped to her throat.
She