Tangled Webs Page 6

  Though his features were blurry, his determined stride told her he’d morphed into protective mode. The same mode he’d been in the night he’d raced through the woods after he’d heard her screams.

  Better nip this in the bud.

  She pushed through the front door as he approached and called out, “It’s a grocery delivery from town.”

  He halted thirty feet away, his taut posture easing. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to overreact . . . but your place is pretty isolated, and I didn’t get the impression you had a lot of invited guests.”

  “None. Thank you for . . .” What? Caring? That would be a stretch. They were nothing more than acquaintances—and new ones, at that. Given his military background, the man was probably wired to go into defensive mode at the merest hint of a threat. “For being tuned into your surroundings. That’s a useful skill, I’m sure.”

  “Sometimes.”

  His one-word response held a curious undertone—but she had no chance to dwell on it. The delivery person rapped on her back door.

  “I need to get that.”

  “Right. And I need to get back to work before those clouds hovering on the horizon move in and cause another rain delay.”

  With that, he turned and retraced his steps.

  Dana watched him—until another, more insistent knock spurred her into action. If she didn’t answer fast, her groceries would end up making a return trip to town.

  Besides, she had work to do . . . and while reading stories about make-believe heroes wasn’t nearly as interesting as interacting with a real live one, it paid the bills.

  Finn secured the second-to-last plank, sat back on his heels, and inspected the dock. The job was almost finished.

  Bummer.

  This was his excuse to hang around . . . but unless he shifted into slow motion, it would be impossible to stretch the task out another day—and he’d been working at half speed as it was.

  At least he could kill a few minutes by giving Mac a ring, as he’d promised—though if his brother was hip-deep in some homicide investigation, he’d no doubt let the call roll.

  Dropping onto the deck, he dangled his legs over the edge and pulled out his cell. Yep, this was the sweet spot. The signal was strong.

  He tapped in Mac’s speed-dial number and watched a blue heron swoop in for a landing near the edge of the water.

  “You actually called.”

  Leave it to Mac to dispense with the niceties and get straight to the point. “You asked me to.”

  “Since when can I count on you to do what I ask?”

  “Very funny. Let’s just say I didn’t want to run the risk of you and Lance barging in on me with no warning.”

  “Why not?” Mac’s voice sharpened.

  Finn watched the heron stalk some prey in the shallow water with slow, careful, deliberate steps—as intent on its mission as Mac always was.

  And both Mac and Lance had made him their mission of late.

  “I’m fine, Mac. Chill out.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Okay. How’s this? Because I might be entertaining.”

  Dead silence.

  “That’s a joke, right?”

  Finn’s mouth twitched at his brother’s cautious tone. “Why would you think I’m joking?”

  “You don’t know anybody down there.”

  “Hey—I got the charm gene in this family, remember? I know how to make friends.”

  “With who? The deer and raccoons?”

  “Actually, there’s a squirrel I’m partial to. He was searching for another nut, and there I was. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  Mac exhaled. “Man, it’s good to hear you kidding around. It’s been too long.”

  Yeah, it had been. Since before . . .

  He cut off that train of thought and watched the heron. The bird was moving at a careful, methodical pace through the shallow water, searching the depths for lunch, letting time and patience work to his advantage.

  Perhaps they were working to his too, as the doctors had promised they would.

  “I think my kidding gene is kicking back in.”

  “I guess Lance and I will have to eat crow if this trip ends up being a turning point for you. I never expected hiding away alone in the woods would be a positive experience.”

  It might not have been—if he hadn’t crossed paths with an intriguing neighbor.

  Not that he intended to tell his brothers about Dana.

  “Maybe you’ll trust my judgment in the future.” A fish jumped a few feet from shore, leaving nothing but ripples behind as it disappeared below the surface.

  “Don’t get your hopes up. So did you drive into town to call?”

  “No. I discovered a spot near a lake not far from Mark’s cabin where I can get reception.”

  “He doesn’t have a lake.”

  “It’s on the adjacent property. Say . . . how much did you tell him about me, anyway?”

  “Why?” Caution colored Mac’s query.

  “The owner of the property next door knew about my military background.”

  “That’s all I told him. I said you’d been in the Army, had mustered out, and needed someplace to decompress. You know I don’t share personal information outside the family.”

  “Okay. Just checking. The comment about the military threw me.”

  A screen door banged behind him, and he angled sideways. Dana crossed the porch, descended the steps . . . and began walking down the hill toward him.

  He scrambled to his feet. “Listen, I need to run. Tell Lance I called or he’ll leave me a dozen messages.”

  “What’s your hurry?”

  Finn dropped his voice. “My neighbor’s coming down to the lake.”

  “So? Are you trespassing?”

  “No. But I need to say hi.”

  “I didn’t think you went down there to socialize.”

  “I can be friendly if it saves me driving into town to make phone calls.” He lifted his hand at Dana and sent her an encouraging smile as her step faltered. “I’ll call you or Lance again in two or three days.”

  “We’ll hold you to that. Talk to you soon.”

  The phone went dead, and Finn slipped it back on his belt, his pulse accelerating as Dana once again picked up her pace.

  Odd.

  Once upon a time, he’d gravitated toward glitzy, glamorous women. Dana might have a touch of big-city polish, and at some point she could also have had glitz and glamor, but not anymore. She was beautiful, no question about it, but her hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, no makeup disguised the faint sprinkle of freckles across her nose, and her oversized sweater that could at best be called ratty was more thrift shop than Saks.

  She was nothing like the women he’d dated in the past.

  So why did a buzz of attraction thrum through his veins whenever she got close?

  She stopped a few feet away and held out a mug. “I thought you might be ready for some coffee. I have sugar and creamer packets in my pocket if you need them.”

  Dana had coffee in the cabin? Then why hadn’t she offered it to him yester . . . ?

  Wait. The grocery delivery this morning.

  She’d ordered coffee for him.

  A gentle rush of warmth infiltrated his heart as he closed the distance between them and took it. “Thank you.”

  “Sugar? Cream?” She patted her pocket.

  “Black is fine.”

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your phone conversation.”

  “We were finished.” He took a tentative sip of the coffee. Not bad, considering it had been made by a tea sipper.

  She spoke as if she’d read his mind. “Pops was a big coffee drinker. He taught me to make it, then put me in charge of the daily ritual. I used to grumble, but he said the skill would come in useful someday. He was right, as usual.” Her tone grew wistful.

  “Sounds like he was a great guy.” He took another sip of the potent
brew.

  “The best.”

  “So you and your parents came here to visit every summer?”

  “No. Just me. Sometimes my dad joined us for a week. Never my mom.”

  There was a story there, based on the edge in her voice . . . but would she share it?

  “Not an outdoor woman?” He kept his stance casual, his inflection conversational.

  Dana gave an unladylike snort. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  When she offered nothing more, he swept a hand over the dock. “I’ve got a few minutes left on my break, and this is the best seat in the house. Would you like to join me? There’s a blue heron on the right providing entertainment.”

  She hesitated, but only for a moment—then lowered herself to the dock. “I can spare a couple of minutes. You’ll have to give me a play-by-play of the heron’s antics, though.”

  Right. The lady had vision issues.

  So much for being Mr. Sensitivity.

  “Sorry about that.” He dropped down beside her, balancing his coffee. “I keep forgetting about the eye situation. You seem fine.”

  “No need to apologize. As Pops used to say, ‘Taking offense when none is intended says more about the offendee than the offender.’ I got comfortable in my skin long ago, thanks in large part to the vacations I spent here.”

  Another opening—but best to proceed with caution.

  “The other day you referred to it as a haven.”

  “Yes.” She leaned back on her palms, lifted her face to the sun, and closed her eyes, giving him a perfect view of her long, slender neck. “I was a late-in-life only child. My dad was excited about my arrival, my mom—not so much. They didn’t agree on much of anything else, either. My dad worked in the aerospace industry, same department, same company his whole career. He was content to be an engineer, but Mom always thought he could do better, rise higher, make bigger money, gain more prestige. With the constant tension in our house, coming here every summer was my great escape.”

  “Are they still together?”

  “No. They divorced when I was eighteen. Dad died ten years ago, far too young, and Mom married a senior executive at a Fortune 500 company who gave her the kind of life she’d always wanted. We don’t talk all that often. I take after my dad, and Mom and I tend to clash.” She looked over at him. “By contrast, I get the feeling you’re close to your family and had an ideal childhood.”

  Better than hers, at any rate.

  “No complaints—but we had our challenges, relocating every few years all over the world, changing schools, living in foreign countries, making new friends. I think that’s one of the reasons my brothers and I are tight. We were the one constant in each others’ lives. And despite our globe-hopping, my mom and dad managed to create a sense of stability and an all-for-one/one-for-all bedrock foundation for the family.”

  “Kudos to them. Is your dad still with the State Department?”

  “No. He retired a few years ago and started a personal security business in Atlanta, my mom’s hometown.”

  “Now I see the source of your excellent manners. You’re the son of a Southern belle.”

  He grinned as he imagined his mother’s unladylike reaction to that label. “I don’t think Mom ever thought of herself in those terms—though I have to admit, she does have Scarlett O’Hara’s determination.”

  “Southern women can be very strong and resilient. That’s experience speaking, by the way. I grew up in Raleigh, North Carolina.”

  “Ah. That explains the slight drawl I detect in a few of your words.”

  “I lost that long ago.”

  “Nope. It’s subtle, but I’ve spent enough time in the South to pick it up.”

  “Where?”

  “Georgia.”

  “Which part?”

  He hesitated—but the facility supported more than a hundred thousand people. Not much chance she’d be able to single out his particular job. “Fort Benning.”

  “The Army base.”

  “Yes.”

  She ran her fingers over the rough edge of a board he’d secured but hadn’t yet sanded. “You were a Ranger, weren’t you?”

  It was hard to maintain a neutral expression after that out-of-the-blue insight. “A lot of people are affiliated with Benning.”

  “Only one special forces unit, though. A co-worker in New York dated a guy who was a SEAL, and I got the lowdown on special forces from her.”

  “Why do you think I was special forces?”

  “Mark mentioned that the brother who called to arrange the cabin for you was a former SEAL. You told me all three of you were in different branches of the service but very competitive . . . seems logical you might try to make your mark in a different but equally prestigious outfit.”

  The lady had some serious smarts.

  “We could have used your critical thinking abilities on a few of our more dicey missions.”

  “Does that mean I’m right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you still in?”

  “No.” He turned away, toward the heron that continued to pursue its prey, forcing his lungs to inflate and deflate at a normal rate. “An injury sidelined me.”

  “Combat?”

  “Yeah.”

  He braced, waiting for the next question.

  It never came.

  Using his mug as cover, he risked a glance at her as he took a sip.

  She was looking straight ahead, out over the water—but turned her head toward him, as if she felt his scrutiny. “I’m sorry your career ended that way. Are you doing okay?”

  “Improving every day.”

  “That’s good.” She peered toward the vicinity of the heron. “What’s our blue-feathered friend doing now?”

  He exhaled. Dana must have sensed his reluctance to talk about the injury.

  The lady had great intuitive ability as well as smarts.

  He shifted his gaze to the shoreline. It took him a few seconds to spot the heron, which was standing motionless, blending into his environment. A great skill for a heron—or special forces soldier. “Waiting for an opportunity to make his move.”

  A spasm passed over her features—one that suggested pain and bad memories. It came and went so fast he almost missed it.

  “Speaking of making a move . . . I need to get back to work. The book on my computer won’t edit itself.” She swung her legs around and rose without giving him a chance to stand and offer her a hand.

  She’d already retreated a few paces before he got to his feet.

  “Thanks for the coffee.” He drained the mug and held it out.

  “There’s more in the pot if you want to keep that.”

  An excuse to knock on her door later. Excellent.

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Well . . .” She withdrew a few more feet. “I’ll let you go back to work too.”

  “I expect to finish up within the hour. Too bad you don’t have a boat to go with the dock.”

  “I do. Or Pops did, anyway. A rowboat. It may be in the shed. I haven’t poked around in there on this trip.”

  “Want me to get it out for you if it’s in decent shape?”

  “Sure. Thanks. I used to like rowing out to the middle of the lake in the evening, as the sun set. I’ll peek into the shed and leave the door unlocked if the boat’s there. See you later.”

  With that, she swung around and hurried up the hill.

  Finn watched her until she disappeared around the corner of the house. He’d made a little progress today putting together the Dana puzzle, but as soon as one question got answered, a new one popped up. Like her troubled expression after his innocuous comment about the heron waiting to make his move.

  One thing for sure. His stay in the woods wasn’t going to be one bit boring as long as he kept talking to his neighbor.

  And with every encounter, getting to know the book editor next door rose higher on his priority list.

  5

  Why hadn’t Finn
stopped by today?

  Dana adjusted her pillow, squinted through the darkness at the digital display on the clock, and sighed. She should be asleep instead of staring at the ceiling as the minutes flicked toward midnight, thinking about her neighbor . . . and asking the wrong question.

  The real question was why should Finn stop by? He’d finished the dock yesterday; hauled the rowboat out of mothballs, cleaned it up, and secured it to a mooring post; and bid her farewell after she’d refused his offer of a test spin around the lake.

  You haven’t exactly been Miss Congeniality, Dana. What did you expect? A man like Finn could have his pick of women. Why should he bother with one who keeps her distance? Gives him no encouragement? Cuts every conversation short?

  And why do you care, anyway?

  Excellent questions—and the last one deserved serious consideration.

  Surrendering to insomnia, Dana sat up and bunched the pillow behind her head. Yes, Finn was nice. Handsome. Thoughtful. Exciting. The kind of guy she’d have drooled over six months ago.

  But the exciting part wasn’t a draw anymore—and with his special forces background, Finn McGregor wouldn’t be satisfied living in a cabin in the woods for the rest of his life. He might not even last the month he’d allotted.

  Whatever injury had taken him out of action, he was a fast-lane kind of guy who wouldn’t slow down for long. He might be content to hang out fixing docks and retrieving boats and watching blue herons for a few days, but he’d soon get bored and start searching for a more exhilarating way to channel his energy and adrenaline.

  And the fast lane wasn’t for her anymore.

  Besides, her neighbor had secrets. Traumatic ones. Sitting beside him on the dock yesterday, at close range, she’d been able to pick up a subtle, underlying tension in his body language and facial expressions. Six months ago, that wouldn’t have been as big a deal. Now . . . different story. She needed to deal with her own baggage before she took on anyone else’s.

  So while it was perfectly normal to find a man with his many attributes attractive, it was important to keep his downsides top of mind—and stay cool.

  Dana twisted her neck toward the clock again. Eleven-forty-seven . . . and she was as wide awake as if it was noon.