Jeep while I return your vehicle.”
Her gaze went solemn. “That seems like an awful lot of bother. Glad I don’t have to put you to it. I’m staying at the cottage, which is apparently right next to your place. I think I can handle letting you drop yourself off then taking the wheel the rest of the way home.”
“You’re joking, right? The place is falling apart around you, and you’re going to sleep there? What about a bed...chairs...a table...food? Of course, you can always eat out in Chilmark or Menemsha. In fact, I can recommend any number of the seafood places, but—”
Janice cut him off with a wave of the hand and a laugh. “I appreciate your concern, Shane, but you should see the trunk of the car. It’s stuffed with more than luggage. After I flew in this morning, I spent a few hours in Edgartown picking up anything I thought I might need to rough it for a few days. Besides, the electricity should be on by the time we return, and a guy is coming tomorrow to check out the pipes and the water heater before getting the water service restored. I’ll be fine.”
Shane puffed out a long breath and scratched his head. “You don’t exactly strike me as the ‘roughing it’ type.”
“Oh, really! What type do I strike you as?” Her tone teased, but her eyes narrowed.
Shane scrambled for the right words. He’d better not blow this deal now! He cleared his throat. “Would you think badly of me if I say ‘soft dinner music and caviar on toast points’?”
“You’d put me in with the snooty set?”
“No, I was picturing more the grace and elegance set.”
“Hmm.” She tapped her lower lip, but a smile peeked out. “I’ll accept that.”
“Whew!” Shane passed a mock wipe across his forehead with the back of his hand, and she laughed.
“Does the doc say you’re free to go?” he asked.
Janice lifted the sling-clad arm a few inches. “A hairline crack in a wrist bone, along with a bad sprain, as you thought. They gave me a short cast. And no stitches in my head, just a butterfly dressing. My brain seems sufficiently un-addled to require an observation stay in the hospital, so yes, I’m ready to blow this Popsicle stand.”
Her bright gaze, brimming with wry humor, shot sparks of interest through him. He quenched them quickly.
“What did they give you for pain meds? Maybe you shouldn’t drive at all.”
“Nothing stronger than extra-strength ibuprofen.”
“Still, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a night at a comfy hotel or B and B in Oak Bluffs. I could come get you in the morning.”
Please let her agree to a night away from the cottage.
He needed a chance to scout the place—check for signs of intruders, even use his amateur lock-picking skills to enter the premises and do whatever he could to make sure no more unpleasant surprises awaited the unsuspecting occupant. Who knew? He might even find what he was looking for and put an end to the threat altogether. It was the least he could do for someone thrust into a dangerous situation not of her own making.
But Janice shook her head. “I’m stubborn to a fault. That place is not going to get the best of me. I have a job to do, and I mean to see it through.”
Shane studied the lifted chin and determined gaze of the woman before him. She meant what she said. In that case, it behooved him to stick to her as closely as possible, not only in hope of discovering what he needed to find, but to offer what protection he could.
“Are you still looking for someone to take over the nonprofessional tasks for you?”
Her eyes glinted like emeralds. “You know someone?”
Shane spread his arms. “You’re looking at him.”
He gazed into her wide eyes. What if she said no? His heart throbbed in his chest. How would he keep tabs on the situation? But what if she said yes? How would he keep himself objective and detached when the smiles this woman sent his way dizzied him like a knock on the noggin?
THREE
Janice’s eyes popped open to find hazy fingers of dawn plucking at the edges of yellowed shades. Fat chance she’d get any more sleep. She’d struggled for the few hours she’d obtained. The hazardous events of yesterday haunted her.
What should she make of all the crazy things that had happened? True accidents or arranged? Was someone out to get her, or was she just skittish from her recent brush with death in Denver or because of the taint of her birth family? How could she know the difference? Probably not by running away, though the option appealed like a high, dry cave in a monsoon. She couldn’t live life huddled in the dark behind stone walls. Whatever was going on, she had to face it. Maybe yesterday was a fluke and today would be smooth sailing. No way to find out until she got up and plunged into the tasks ahead.
Janice gathered her muscles to sit up but subsided with a huff onto her inflated mattress. Her battered body objected to a perky start. Scowling, she looked around her Spartan surroundings in the larger of the cottage’s two bedrooms. The only adornments were gossamer cobwebs dangling from the ceiling. The few utilitarian objects scattered about had come inside with her.
Her suitcase yawned open in one corner. A lamp she’d bought in Edgartown sat on the floor in the opposite corner. Nothing decorated the weathered walls, not so much as a mirror, which she no doubt badly needed. She ran her tongue over her teeth. A toothbrush would be welcome, also.
There was a silvered mirror in the dilapidated bathroom, a toothbrush in her suitcase and jugs of water in the kitchen to take care of her liquid ablutions until the water was restored whenever the plumber came today. Provided the plumbing still worked after all this time, she’d be able to take a shower. Until then, she would have to be downright eighteenth century in caring for her personal needs.
The notion had been in the category of minor inconvenience until her accidents of yesterday. Now the simplest activities could be a challenge, but she’d manage. She had to. Staying at a public place and answering well-meant questions from strangers was out of the question when she’d come here for privacy and anonymity.
Finally, steeling herself against the aches and pains, Janice eased upright and gingerly stretched—with one arm anyway—then stuffed her feet into a pair of mule slippers. Yawning, she shuffled to the kitchen where her food, toaster, hot plate and cleaning supplies waited.
Yesterday when she and Shane returned from the hospital, the electricity was on—thankfully. And thank goodness for electric baseboard heat. At least the cottage was nicely warm this morning. Janice had a haunting reason to dread a cold environment. Not something she was going to allow herself to think about this morning. She pushed away the memory as she reached for a fresh bottle of water from the vintage 1950s refrigerator that went nicely with the scuffed and chipped burnt-orange countertops.
Shane had given up on urging her to seek out the comfort of a hotel and insisted on carrying everything from her trunk into the cottage. He’d made several trips to the tune of her warning about that faulty porch board. He’d even blown up her mattress with the help of the electronic air pump, calling the gadget “pretty slick,” then helped unpack and put away all her kitchen items.
“You’ve
