Obsidian (5 page)

“What’s that?” He was ready for anything. If he had to, he’d give a skill demonstration. Hell, he’d work a week for free if it meant he could get close to Case.

John nodded at Jamie's feet. “Are you gonna work in those fancy boots or are you gonna get yourself some real ones like mine?”

Jamie looked down at his worn, cowboy boots, with their smooth soles and raised heel. They were out of place with John’s black rubber boots. “I guess I’ll just be buying myself some of them fancy ones like yours.”

John laughed, clamping a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “And I know just the place you can get some. We start on Monday, bright and early. Be here at five, or I leave without you.”

CHAPTER THREE

By the time Shelby finished putting the kettle on the stove for her after-dinner tea, the afternoon light outside her kitchen window was turning to evening dusk.

There was no sign of her uncle. He’d gone down to the wharf to make sure everything was set for the night, leaving her to bear the quietness of the vacant house. She hated it. It was much too quiet.

She’d given in to the lingering, Indian summer warmth and donned a pair of cut off jeans, the edges frayed with washing. Her sleeveless top left her arms bare to the cooling breeze.

It had been quite a day.

All afternoon she’d been distracted by the image of Jamie Rivard on his motorcycle. It sounded trite, like a reference to a country song, but she couldn’t get his slow, easy smile out of her mind. Or the way he’d been relaxed, even polite, as she’d given him a dressing down.

Her cheeks flared with embarrassment. She was rude to him, more than he deserved. But there was something about him that made her uneasy. More than anyone else in a very long time.

She piled the dishes into the sink and started running the water into one side, adding the dish soap as her mind wandered.

Josh wasn’t in yet and it was getting late.

And because he was late, she couldn’t help thinking about that night almost a year ago when she’d waited for Tommy to come back. The hours had gotten later and later, with no sign or word of him or his boat. And she’d been left waiting and hoping for the best and somehow knowing the worst was yet to come.

Tommy had been late before. He was a hard worker, always pushing himself to pull in one more string of traps or set out one more line. But that night she’d spent hours standing at the window looking out over the water, watching for him as the other boats had come in for the night. And then, she’d called the Coast Guard.

After hours of searching, they’d found his boat circling unmanned. All of the safety equipment had been found intact, except for his diving gear. But there had been no Tommy. Finally, after two days of searching, the search and rescue had turned into a recovery mission.

Eventually, they’d just given up altogether. The official determination was recklessness on Tommy’s part. They concluded he’d been diving alone and his inexperience had caused him to drown. It was all very cut and dried. All very polite, and all very devastating.

But their logical answers had done nothing to ease her mind or her grief. At twenty-six, her husband was gone and she was a widow. Three weeks later, Tommy’s body washed up on a nearby island and the Coast Guard’s determination was confirmed. Tommy’s carelessness had taken him away from her.

Now, Josh had decided he could make money faster by diving and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop her headstrong little brother. She couldn’t go on trying to protect him forever. At some point, she was going to have to let him make his own mistakes no matter what the consequences.

Looking out the window at the shoreline, she watched the lights flickered on, one by one, in the windows of the houses along the shore.

Most of the boats were at their mooring. Only a few lingered behind at the dock as they went about cleaning up and preparing for the next day.

Still, there was no sign of her brother.

“Damn it, Josh. Why do you have to be so stupid? Why do you always have to take risks?” But the only answer was the shrill whistle of the teakettle sounding its readiness.

Jamie guided his bike back along the narrow road running along the shoreline.

Things settled early in Chandler. Only a few hardy souls were out walking, raising a hand in greeting to him as he roared past. But most of them just stopped and stared.

Following the directions scrawled in coarse handwriting on the clip of paper in his hand, he turned south at the head of the cove. The road winded along the cliffs until it turned to gravel.

Jamie turned his bike into the driveway in front of a rather unimposing two-and-a-half story, shingled house. The weathered shingles and painted trim were so typically New England. The house wasn’t any one particular style, more a jumble of the additions and afterthoughts it had been subjected to over the years. The rooftop stuck out at odd angles with a dormer here, a shed roof there.

He looked closer. The trim paint was raised and rippling and some of the shingles were cracked and warped. The house needed some work. It wasn’t fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but with a little luck, it would be a place to rest his head while he was here.

He parked his bike under the shelter of a large oak tree, where a hedge of wild rose bushes ran a boundary line of the property.

Swinging off his bike, he muffled a curse. He held onto the bike, steadying himself as he put his weight on his leg. Maybe he was pushing it to expect his leg to perform without a hitch after such a short time. The trip had taken its toll on him and now he was paying for it.

He unwrapped the cords that held his gear in place. It was a small pack, only the essentials. He didn’t plan on staying long enough to need much, just long enough to wrap up the case.

Behind him an ancient screen door creaked and slammed shut. Jamie straightened, turning away from the pack he was busy untying. But his fingers stilled on the binding cords.

Shelby Teague stood barefoot in the grass, watching him, and, for the second time that day, Jamie found he was incapable of forming an intelligent greeting.

“Come to insult me some more?”

High green blades of grass covered her feet. Her hair hung down, curling softly against her shoulders. She took a few steps, stopping just a few feet in front of him.

Jamie held tight to his bag, not daring to move a muscle for fear he’d say or do something to scare her off and prove to her that he really was a complete idiot.

“John Case sent me. He told me you had a room for rent.”

“And I’m supposed to rent to a total stranger?” She brushed at a wisp of hair that fell forward into her eyes.

“Look, I know we didn’t hit it off well at our last meeting, but I’d appreciate the chance to change your opinion of me.”

She nodded. “Mr. Rivard, you have no idea what my opinion of you truly is. Granted, you were on the receiving end of my little tirade, but I can assure you that I rarely hold a grudge.”

“Point taken, still, I’d hate to anger the landlord.” And run the risk or her asking him to leave.

“I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Rivard. My uncle wouldn’t have told you to come here if he didn’t think you were safe.”

Fading sunlight cast a halo of light on her hair. Her face was free of make-up, a ring of freckles lacing her high cheekbones. Gone were the faded jeans and loose shirt that hid her body. Instead, she wore shorts that clung like second skin and showed off her long legs. Her oversized shirt had been replaced with a blue tank top that left her shoulders bare. She had great shoulders.

Jamie stood motionless, his brain frozen, as she closed the remaining steps between them. She reached for the bag, pulling it from his fingers, and clutching it in her own. She held it in front of her, the dark leather contrasting with her pale skin. She could have walked up and taken his gun from him and he wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to stop her.

She reached a hand out in greeting. “We haven’t formally met. I’m Shelby Teague.”

Jamie willed himself to raise his hand and place it in hers. Her touch was smooth and warm against his skin. “Please, call me Jamie.”

She frowned. “Is Jamie short for something?”

Jamie shook his head, “Only to my mother, she calls me Jamie Paul, but she usually reserves it for when I’m in trouble. Most of my friends call me Rivard.”

“I think I’ll stick to Jamie.”

She looked down between them and his gaze followed hers. He had yet to release her hand. He dropped his grip, pulling it away with a quick motion. The imprint of her touch burned against his palm, making his fingers itch.

He was acting like some hormone-induced idiot without a brain to rely on and all of his training was flying out the window.

He was so used to knowing the right words to say to a woman. But then, Shelby Teague wasn’t like any woman he’d ever met before.

“You must have impressed my uncle.” Her soft words and implied tone made him raise an eyebrow at her. A ghost of a smile traced her lips.

“Why would you say that?”

Her gaze traveled from his boots to his jeans and upward to his tee shirt. He was standing inspection here and the last thing he wanted to risk was having her think he wasn’t a good bet.

“Because he’s very protective of my brother and I. Did he give you the job?”

“I start Monday bright and early.”

“You work very fast, Mr. Rivard.”

“I’ve never been known for taking it slow.” He flashed her a smile and motioned toward the house. “Shall we?”

She nodded. “I’ll show you to your room. Room and board is eighty dollars a week with dinner included. You get the run of the kitchen. But you have to fix your own breakfast and lunch since I’m usually down at the store. I don’t do the laundry for the boarders, but there is a washer and dryer in the basement if you want to do them yourself. I only ask that you keep quiet and if you want to have night visitors you don’t do it here.”

“Night visitors?” He gave her his best innocent look.

Shelby’s cheeks stained a pale pink and she raised her chin to look him in the eye. He had to give her credit. She had a lot of nerve.

“You know…company…at night?” She shifted in front of him and he stifled a grin. It was a rather old fashioned rule, but then, he wasn’t here to have visitors, nightly or otherwise.

“You mean female visitors? At night?”

He felt bad for making her uncomfortable, but there was something about her that made him want to tease her, if even just a little.

“Exactly. Now if you agree to the terms I’ll show you around.”

“Lead the way.” He took his bag back from her. It was best that he hold on to his own gear. He didn’t want to risk making her suspicious when he hadn’t even gotten through the door. But he couldn’t risk it, if she were to see just what was in his pack.

“I could’ve carried that for you.” Her smile disappeared.

“I’m sure you could, but my mother taught me that a lady should never be allowed to carry packages themselves. She’d have my hide if she thought I let you carry my things. Call it my southern hospitality training coming through.”

She faltered for a moment, motioning at his bag. “Is that all you have?”

“I travel on the light side. There isn’t much you can pack on a motorcycle.” He always traveled light. It made it easy when he needed to leave in a hurry. He’d been in enough shaky situations to know you never carry something with you that you can’t afford to leave behind.

“If you want, you can store your bike in the garage out back. It isn’t much. My brother, Josh, keeps his tools and nets out there, but I don’t think he’ll mind if you store your bike there.”

“I appreciate the offer. Thank you.” He followed her toward the steps.

“It’s no problem. When my brother gets in I’ll have him get the key for you. He should be in any time now.” She glanced toward the shoreline. Even the harbor was quiet now.

“Besides, when he sees that bike of yours, you won’t be able to keep him away from it.” Jamie stored this away in his memory for later. It was perfect. When Josh did show up, he’d be in a perfect position to observe him without bringing too much attention to himself.

He’d be waiting.

“Is something wrong?”

She let out a sigh, glancing at the shoreline once again. “No. It’s just that my brother’s been out diving this afternoon and I haven’t been able to raise him on either the phone, or the radio. I’ll rest easier when he makes it back to shore and I know he’s safe.”

She walked toward the house ahead of him. Her hips swayed back and forth as she picked her way across the yard. He liked watching her. There was something oddly satisfying in the subtle sensuality of her movements or the way she tilted her head to the side when she spoke. Both were unconscious and graceful in their simplicity.

Jamie hoisted the narrow strap of his pack over his shoulder and followed her up the narrow wooden steps. The screen door screeched as it slammed behind them.

The small kitchen had a fifties look. Black and white tiles covered the floors and the counters were an interesting shade of green Formica with a gray speckled tinge. Cookie cutter trim edged the wooden cabinets and the wallpaper had a dancing teapot motif. It was outdated and small, but clean.