Grave Secrets (17 page)

Her eyes flew wide before she quickly regained her composure. “I have a feeling you don’t do that very often.”

“Do what?”

“Apologize.”

She was astute. He laughed. “I don’t, so don’t push your luck.” He grinned to soften his words.

He thought about what he’d planned to do for the day, and goofing off on the river walk definitely hadn’t been on the agenda. He was expected elsewhere and of all the people on this planet, these were ones he wouldn’t let down. Under any circumstance. But maybe just a few more minutes with Sara wouldn’t hurt. At least she looked more relaxed today, bringing a youthful appearance to her features. She might not be the type of woman he normally went for, but she sure appealed to him.

“I have to run a personal errand this afternoon. Want to tag along?”

She looked at him quizzically, then smiled. “Yes, I think I would.”

Asking Sara to come had been an impulse. He told himself it was to keep an eye on her, but knew deep down he simply wanted to spend more time with her. Their kiss kept replaying in his mind, tasting her soft lips again also held a certain amount of appeal. First he needed to do something about her clothes.

“You got a pair of jeans in that closet of yours?”

****

Sara squinted at Morgan. What was he up to? And what was wrong with the way she was dressed? She looked casual enough to stroll comfortably on river walks, yet could walk into a high fashion boutique and not be looked down on. After all, linen went with everything and everywhere. She decided it didn’t matter. Spending time away from the house and in someone else’s company was better than being alone, wondering when she’d start moving furniture in her sleep instead of just the smaller items that seemed to have sprouted wings during the night.

She cocked her head and placed a hand on her hip. “I believe I can come up with a pair. Next you’ll tell me I’ll need boots as well.” She pointedly looked at his feet. A good looking man in tight jeans and cowboy boots. Oh, yeah.

She groaned inwardly. Cat was starting to rub off on her. Sara would have to remember to drop her an e-mail and tell her all about this. Cat would get a big laugh out of it and tell her it was about time she started living again. Soon, Sara promised herself. Very soon.

“Boots wouldn’t be a bad idea,” he stated matter-of-factly.

That took her aback. Puzzled at what he had in mind, but willing to find out, she turned toward the parking lot, realizing they’d walked further than she’d thought. It was easy to lose track of time and distance when she was with Morgan. He cupped her elbow again, setting a brisk pace. When he had a goal or purpose in mind, nothing slowed him down. Not even her. The warmth of his touch banished the lurking monsters that taunted her.

Half an hour later she’d changed clothes. Standing in the foyer of her house, Morgan faced the drawing room but turned at the click of her boots on the staircase. His jaw dropped as his eyes flew wide. If she wasn’t mistaken, he even took a step back.

Heat crept up her neck and for the first time in years, she felt self-conscious. Maybe she shouldn’t have put on these jeans. But going along with her “start living again” theme, she’d deliberately chosen this particular outfit. She wore a pair of Wranglers she’d bought a couple years ago, before she’d given birth. Funny how her hips had spread, causing the pants to be a little more snug than she normally wore them. Judging by the desire in Morgan’s eyes, the skin tight jeans, form fitting peach shirt, and dark tan books met his approval

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Um, will this do?” She shouldn’t have asked, but being admired went a long ways toward bolstering her level of self-confidence. And sanity.

“Lady, you couldn’t be more perfect.”

Watching Morgan was worth the discomfort of the overly tight jeans. It was exactly what she needed.

Finally, he blinked. “You ready?”

He’d composed his features into the mask he wore so well, but she’d already seen the desire darken his eyes. “You might want to leave a light on. I’m not sure when we’ll be back.”

He remembered. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” She snagged the denim jacket she’d left on the banister, collected her purse, making sure the stuffed rabbit was inside, turned on the entryway light, then set the alarm before heading out the door. Morgan tested the lock, then she climbed into his SUV, feeling right at home amongst the clutter. It felt wonderful to go from the usually spotless house to the mess in his vehicle. Just like her life. It had previously been orderly, spotless, totally organized. Now bits and pieces were slowly being strewn about, and she had no way to stop it. Or clean it up.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he scooped up a handful of discarded wrappers and pitched them into the back floorboard. One of these days she’d clean it out for him.

She paused. What was she thinking? Although cleaning had a therapeutic effect on her, he hadn’t asked anything of her. Yet she still wanted to do something for him. Cleaning his vehicle could just possibly be it. She’d wait and see.

Refocusing on Morgan as they headed down the street, she took a minute to admire his profile. The hard planes in his face were still there. Except she’d seen underneath the surface and knew there was more to the man than he projected to the world. He really liked to come across gruff, but that wasn’t all there was to him.

“Will you tell me now where we’re going?” She didn’t really care, she simply wanted to goad him.

He glanced at her, held her gaze a second too long considering he was driving, then said, “To help a friend.”

He left it hanging, left her hanging. Why couldn’t men just spit it out? Why did they have to be so cryptic? Or was this payback time for her giving him a hard time earlier? She couldn’t blame him if it was. If you can’t take it, don’t dish it, Nana used to say. A pang of loneliness hit Sara, but she forced herself to think of the here and now. She refocused on Morgan. He sounded serious, but then, he always sounded serious. “Doing what? I thought maybe we were going to a rodeo.”

He didn’t even glance at her. “You ever been to one?”

She wanted to smack him. “Of course. What do you think I am? Some stuck up snob who’s never been outside the country club?”

With a shrug, he said, “Sorry. Didn’t know.”

So much for stroking her ego. “Now you do.”

“You like sports?”

“Actually, I do. I love following the WNBA. I like to see women get recognition for their abilities.”

He sat silent a moment, then a grin cracked his face. “Ever been to a donkey basketball game?”

“Uh, no. Can’t say I ever have. What is it?”

“Just what it sounds like. You have two teams competing against each other, except the players are sitting on top of a donkey.”

She’d never heard of such a thing. “So they’re in the middle of a rodeo arena?”

“No. It’s in a gym.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at her and winked. “Where else would you play a game of basketball?”

“How do they control the donkeys?” He had her attention now.

“They don’t. The animals have a mind of their own. And since they ride them bareback, they wind up falling off as much as they’re on their back. It’s a riot.”

She laughed. “Is that the voice of experience?”

“Yep. Tried it once, which was enough. Don’t think they have them anymore, though.”

“That’s a shame. I wouldn’t mind watching one of those.”

“Have to tell you, watching from the sidelines is a lot funnier than actually being on the court. I fell off so many times my butt hurt for a week afterward.”

She laughed, visualizing Morgan and a donkey butting heads. With Morgan losing. “I’ll bet. Still, I wouldn’t mind watching you make a fool of yourself if I had the chance.”

He curled his lip. “Don’t hold your breath, sweetheart.”

That put a halt to the laugh that had bubbled out of her.
Sweetheart.
He hadn’t said it in an endearing way, yet she liked the sound of it on his lips. She cleared her throat to make sure her voice came out even and not with a squeak. “Since you had me put on jeans, I’m assuming we’re going to the country.”

“You got it.”

Oh, good grief! “Has anyone ever told you your cryptic speech patterns are extremely annoying?”

“Charlene says so all the time. Except she’s not quite that nice. Don’t know what her problem is, either. She should know me by now.”

“How long has she worked for you?”

“Almost since I opened shop. Waltzed in one day and refused to leave. Couldn’t blast her out with a stick of dynamite.” He chuckled at some untold memory that he didn’t share.

“How long have you been in business?” She’d gotten him to talk about sports, showing a side of himself she’d never seen before. Maybe he’d talk about his business. She’d always been curious about private investigators. Too many cop shows when Jason worked late, she supposed. At any rate, she enjoyed their banter. Or maybe she’d taken a lesson from Morgan himself and had started asking questions as if she were an interrogator. She grinned, wondering how it felt to have the tables turned on him.

He drove in silence for awhile. Then said, “Long enough.”

So much for getting him to open up. Resigned, she sat back and watched the countryside slide by. Where in the world
were
they going? It seemed as if they drove for miles, leaving the city further and further behind. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“If we aren’t close to our destination, you’re going to have to find me a restroom. You didn’t say it’d take half the day to get there.” Her skin-tight jeans weren’t helping her bladder any.

“We haven’t been driving for very long. Besides, we’re almost there.” He glanced at her, and the heat in his eyes practically melted her.

And here she thought he was upset with her. Not hardly. Apparently her last question didn’t upset him as much as she’d thought.

Ten minutes later, he slowed and turned off the main highway onto a gravel road. After about a mile he pulled into the lane of an older but well kept home surrounded by fields. A large weathered, wooden barn, several smaller buildings and farm machinery dotted the landscape behind the small house.

Before the truck even came to a stop, an elderly man wearing overalls and a plaid work shirt came out onto the porch followed by a white haired woman with an apron tied around her waist. The man scowled at them while the lady smiled as if a long lost child had just arrived. Sara glanced at Morgan. Were they his grandparents?

As soon as he turned off the ignition, Sara climbed out and met him in front of the vehicle. He took her elbow, moving her toward the house, then released her as he climbed the steps two at a time to take the older man’s hand and clap him on the back. The scowl on the tanned and weathered face turned into a broad grin as he pulled Morgan into a brief but fierce hug. Then Morgan bent down and affectionately hugged the woman. She gave him a pat on one cheek after she’d kissed the other one.

A pang of envy stung Sara. She’d had that closeness with Nana—except for the last few months of her grandmother’s life. And Sara had done nothing to bridge the gap between them.

Morgan turned to Sara, waiting for her to join them on the porch. “Sara. I’d like you to meet Uncle Pete and Aunt Nona. This is Sara Adams, a friend of mine.”

Friend? He hadn’t even hesitated with the word. She’d thought for sure he would’ve introduced her as one of his clients. Only he hadn’t. Did he really mean it? Swallowing hard, she took first his aunt’s hand, then his uncle’s.

“It’s very nice to meet you. I love your home. It’s so...so homey.” What was wrong with her? She’d never been tongue-tied before. Now suddenly she was stumbling over her words. Thank goodness, if anyone noticed, they were gracious enough to not mention it.

“Come on inside, girl. We’ll get acquainted while the boys tend to business.”

Nona took her arm, ushering her inside as Sara twisted around to watch Morgan grab a small green canvas bag out of the back of the SUV before heading toward the barn. Two hours later, Sara had flour scattered over the apron Nona insisted she wear, and was immensely proud of the apple pie she’d made. She’d also learned the older couple had to sell the farm. Pete’s declining health was forcing them into an assisted living facility. Sara had been so wrapped up in her own problems over the last few months it was a relief to focus on someone else’s problems for a change.

She felt sorry for the couple. The house had obviously seen years of living. Every available space on the walls in the living room held pictures of their two daughters, the grandkids, and now, a great-grandchild. Nona talked constantly about the kids’ accomplishments and how proud she was of each and every one of them. They all came home at Christmas, crowding the small house to overflowing. How nice that must be, Sara thought. To have a large family gathered around a simple tree, enjoying just being together.

Christmas at her house had never been casual. Like everything else, the holiday had to be a big production with parties for only the top executives and certain elected officials. People Jason wanted to impress. Of course it was catered, no homemade pies in Jason’s home. That simply wouldn’t do, as far as he was concerned. That would change. Nona had given her the recipe for the pie she’d just made and Sara would cherish it. In the years to come, Nona’s apple pie would be on the menu on a regular basis.

Periodically, she glanced out the kitchen window toward the barn. The huge doors stood wide, to allow for a breeze she supposed. A large piece of machinery had been parked in the middle of the doorway. Morgan lay under it as Pete scowled and handed him hammers or wrenches as he kept pointing to what he wanted repaired.

Half an hour later, the men were putting the tools away, so Sara assumed the repairs had been completed.

“Why don’t you go tell the boys to come on in? Take a tour if you want. We have time.” Nona turned to stir the green beans on the stove.

Feeling just a little giddy, Sara took off the apron, then walked out the back door and down the steps toward the barn. Uncle Pete saw her coming and headed to the house. Morgan continued to wipe his hands with a shop towel as he waited on her.