Her eyes widened at his words, tea sloshing over the rim of the cup as her hand jerked. “That’s not very comforting.”
“Comforting is hot chocolate on a cold day. It’ll warm you, but it won’t keep you safe.”
“What will?” She sized him up, her eyes moving from his head to his feet and back again. “A big strong hero?”
“I’m flattered.” He grinned, not at all bothered by her sarcastic tone and more than willing to volunteer his services. “But I was thinking more along the lines of knowledge. And a good security system.”
“A security system. That is a good idea. We should call someone tomorrow, Jasmine. See about putting one in.” Sarah lowered herself into a chair, took the tea Jasmine had set on the table.
“Sure. We can do that.” Jasmine passed a cup of tea to Eli, her fingers brushing against his as he took it from her. A zing of warmth ran up his arm, lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his chest and made his heart race.
What was it about this woman?
Her eyes?
Her lips?
The toughness that barely hid her vulnerability and sadness?
Yeah. That was probably it. Eli was a sucker for the downtrodden. This time, though, he was going to have to keep his distance. He’d come to Lakeview to do a job. Getting distracted was a surefire way to be certain it didn’t get done. He’d gotten the information he’d come in the house for, found out what had happened, made a practical suggestion for keeping the women safe. It was time to go.
He took a few sips of weak tea, then rinsed his cup and set it in the sink. “I’d better be on my way so you ladies can get some rest. Thanks for the tea.”
“Anytime.” Sarah smiled and started to rise, but he put a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place.
“No need to get up, Sarah. I can see myself out.” With that, he strode from the room, determined to get back to planning his strategy for finding Rebecca McKenna. Grown women didn’t just up and disappear. Not unless they were running from something. Or someone.
According to Eli’s friend and former commander, Marcus Trenton, Rebecca wasn’t the kind of person who’d have enemies or reasons to hide. Maybe he was right, or maybe Marcus just wanted to believe his sister innocent of what her husband had accused her—falling in love and running off with another man. One way or another, Eli was going to find out what had happened to Rebecca. He owed Marcus a lot. Even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have turned his back on a friend.
Cold wind blew across the lake, slapping icy rain into Eli’s face as he made his way to the cabin. He’d come to Lakeview to find Rebecca. That was where his focus needed to be. But even as he told himself that, his mind was at the Harts’ house, his brain replaying the conversation he’d had with Jasmine and Sarah. Something was going on there. Not just something. Trouble. Whether it was part of the plan or not, Eli had a feeling he was going to be seeing a lot more of the Hart women.
FOUR
“Afool couldn’t push a woman down the stairs with dozens of people around and not be seen.”
“A fool couldn’t, but someone very, very smart and very, very determined might be able to.”
The words ran through Jasmine’s mind again and again as she poured Sarah another cup of tea, unloaded the dishwasher and placed her mug and Eli’s into it.
Eli had been right, and she wasn’t happy about it. Imagining someone staring in the window was bad enough. Imagining that that person was an evil mastermind determined to harm Sarah made her want to put bars on the windows and doors.
“He rinsed his cup.” Sarah’s words drew Jasmine from her thoughts, and she turned to face her mother-in-law.
“What?”
“Eli rinsed his cup.”
“Should we give him a medal?”
“How many men do you know who clean up after themselves?”
“About the same number whose cleaning habits I know. None.”
“My husband didn’t clean up after himself. I remember spending the first three months of our marriage trying to get him to pick up his socks. I bet you had the same problem with John. I know he wasn’t neat when he was living at home.”
At the mention of John, Jasmine’s throat tightened. This was why she’d avoided Sarah for so long. Shared memories demanded voice and discussion, but only made the hurt that much harder to bear. “You’re right. He wasn’t neat after we married, either.”
“See? That’s my point. A neat man is something a woman doesn’t find very often.”
“So?”
“So Eli is handsome, strong, charming, neat. That’s a powerful combination.”
“What are you getting at, Sarah?”
“You’re young, Jasmine. Maybe it’s time—”
“It’s not.” She cut Sarah off, not wanting to get into a discussion about John, Eli, time passing. She knew it was passing. She felt it slipping away every moment of every day. That didn’t mean she was ready to jump into another relationship.
“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t. I just think we have more important things to discuss.”
“Like faces in the window? Security systems? Doctor’s appointments? I’d much rather spend the time before I go back to my room talking about more pleasant things. Things that aren’t going to keep me awake in bed.” Sarah sipped her tea and fingered the paperback book that still sat on the kitchen table, her skin parchment thin and lined with age, worry and sorrow.
Jazz’s heart clenched, her stomach churning with anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to give Sarah more to worry about. “It’s my turn to apologize. I wasn’t thinking about how scared you must be. How about we bunk together? I can sleep on the love seat in your room.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Jazz.”
“Then it’s good you don’t have to.” She wiped down the counter and hung the dishrag to dry. “I’ll go get my pillow and a blanket. Then we’d both better get to sleep. We’ve got to be up and out early.”
Sarah agreed, standing with difficulty and heading toward her room, the click and shuffle of her retreat fading, then stopping altogether. Jazz took her time rinsing Sarah’s cup, loading it into the dishwasher. She didn’t mind sharing a room, but she didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about what had happened tonight and not about the past. Certainly not about men and dating. She was past those things. Way past them. She might only be thirty-three, but she felt older. Ancient even.
She sighed, grabbed her pillow and a blanket from her room and quietly entered Sarah’s. The deep, even sound of her mother-in-law’s breathing was a relief. No need to say good-night, no need to make conversation. Maybe she’d fall asleep just as quickly as Sarah had.
Or maybe she’d lie there until dawn listening to the house settling, staring into the dark room, wishing she could go back in time, relive all the moments that were still such a vivid part of her memories.
She blinked back unwanted tears, and moved to the window, pulling back the curtains. Night was already fading, the sky gray-blue and streaked violet with the first fingers of dawn. The rain had stopped, the silence beyond the window broken only by the soft tap of water dripping from the eaves. If she listened hard enough, Jazz imagined she could hear her daughters’ laughter drifting on the morning air, caught between here and there, the time before and the time after. Not quite