take. I do know I don’t have any time to waste—I probably shouldn’t be here at all. So we’ll be moving as fast as we can.’
‘At least tell me if we’re going into the interior.’
‘That’s the understatement of the year,’ he said, his voice holding an edge of bitterness.
‘Do you have knee-high rubber boots?’
‘Not with me.’
‘We’ll go to a supplier in town and get you a pair,’ she said. ‘Leather hiking boots are useless in a bog.’
‘All right,’ he said.
For the first time she saw a flash of humor glint in his eyes. She chuckled, beguiled by the way it had lightened his features. ‘Instant obedience,’ she remarked. ‘You learn fast.’
‘You’re the only guide available—right?’ he said drily. Turning to Ryan, he asked, ‘What kind of duck is that?’
Ryan loved to talk about his decoys and was soon launched on one of his many hunting stories. Jenessa drank her coffee then pushed back from the table. ‘I’m going to change; I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ she said.
Ten minutes later, showered and dressed in jeans, a plain short-sleeved safari shirt and sandals, she was back in the kitchen, her over-long hair clinging damply to her neck. Finn Marston stood up as soon as she entered. ‘Thanks for the coffee, Ryan,’ he said.
‘Any time.’ Ryan gave an uncouth cackle. ‘Don’t run from a black bear and don’t let the stouts bite ya.’
Jenessa raised her brows and led the way out of the kitchen. ‘A black bear can run forty-five miles an hour out on the barrens,’ she explained, leading the way to her red van. ‘So there’s not much point in trying to run away from one. And a stout’s the Newfoundland version of a deer fly—unceasingly hungry and oblivious to any brand of fly dope that I’ve ever tried. They’ve been known to drive caribou crazy in the early summer.’
‘Are you trying to discourage me?’
‘And talk myself out of seven hundred a week?’ she said limpidly, starting the motor and steering the van between the potholes in Ryan’s driveway.
‘You don’t work just for money.’
‘I work because I love being outdoors,’ Jenessa said with sudden intensity. ‘I couldn’t bear to be cooped up in an office all day.’
‘I suffer from the same problem,’ he said. ‘What’s your relationship to Ryan?’
His change of subject made her edgy. ‘He was my father’s best friend, and he taught me just about everything I know about the woods. I’ve lived with him since I was sixteen.’
‘But your father died when you were thirteen. Did you live with your mother for the next three years?’
That three years had been the worst time of Jenessa’s life. Braking at a stop sign, she said carefully, ‘Would you be asking me these kinds of questions—personal ones, I mean—if I were a man?’
‘You’re not.’
She crossed the street, driving past a row of small bungalows and deciding that two could play that game. ‘Why don’t you have much respect for women?’ she asked.
He gave a short laugh. ‘There are no flies on you, stout or otherwise. By the way, I didn’t bring any fly dope—maybe we could buy some.’
‘I’ve got lots. The flies aren’t that bad now; we’ve had a few cold nights.’ She swung round a corner, aware that he hadn’t answered her question any more than she had answered his. ‘We’ll get the boots from my friend Stevie; he’s the only one in town who carries them. Have you got rain gear, Mr Marston?’
‘As we’re going to be spending the next few days together, why don’t we go with Finn and Jenessa?’ he said impatiently.
Normally Jenessa preferred being on a first-name basis. But for a reason she couldn’t fathom, hearing her name on Finn’s lips made her feel as though he was laying claim to some part of her, a part that was strictly her own. Chiding herself for being overly imaginative, she said coolly, ‘Fine. Rain gear?’
He nodded. Efficiently she ran through a list of personal gear he’d need, finishing, ‘We supply tents and sleeping-bags and all the food. Here we are... Ruth’s home, by the look of it, but not Stevie.’
Ruth greeted them cheerfully, clearly impressed by Jenessa’s latest client. She led them to the room in the basement where she and Stevie sold a wide array of hunting and fishing equipment, and pulled out a stack of boxes. ‘Your size should be here,’ she said to Finn. ‘Try them on and feel free to walk around outdoors in them.’
As he slipped his feet into the first pair of rubber boots, Ruth remarked with rather overdone casualness, ‘Jenessa, I was just talking to Marylou—her ten-thirty appointment was cancelled; you should take a run over.’
‘I don’t have the time,’ Jenessa said shortly. As Finn stood up, she knelt at his feet, pressing on the toes of the boots to see how they fit, her shirt pulled tight over the slim line of her back. ‘They seem a little small,’ she said dubiously, glancing up at him. ‘If we do any amount of walking, it’s really important to get a good fit.’ .
With a directness that no longer surprised her, he said, ‘Who’s Marylou?’
‘The hairdresser next door,’ she answered repressively. ‘I think you should try a half-size larger.’
He did so, and said with a satisfied grunt, ‘They feel better—maybe I will walk outside in them, if that’s okay.’ The smile he gave Ruth would have charmed the birds from the trees, Jenessa thought sourly; she got the tail end of it as he added, ‘Come with me, Jenessa; you can probably tell if I’ve got the right ones better than I can.’
She trailed up the steps behind him. He walked across the front lawn, glanced at Marylou’s sign and wrapped his fingers around Jenessa’s elbow. ‘If I’ve got to take to the woods with a woman, I’d at least prefer her to look like one,’ he said, and steered her unceremoniously toward Marylou’s side-door.
Jenessa’s jaw had dropped. She snapped it shut, dug her heels into the grass and sputtered, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Getting you a haircut. Maybe she’ll do mine at the same time.’
‘You can shave your head for all I care,’ Jenessa stormed, tugging fruitlessly at his fingers. ‘My hair’s fine as it is and Ruth’s mother, who lives right across the street, is undoubtedly glued to the window watching us. This’ll be all over town by evening.’
‘Then you’d better stop struggling, hadn’t you?’ he said.
He was a good five inches taller than she and stronger by far. Disconcertingly strong, she thought with a quiver of unease. ‘What do you do for your living?’ she asked.
‘If I’m not allowed to ask personal questions, neither are you. Come along.’
One
