Hannah stood on the rocky beach below the Harte cottage and watched Winston chase seagulls in Dead Hand Cove. The tide was still out this morning. The five tall, finger-shaped stones that had given the cove its name thrust upward from the wet sand in a pattern that was eerily reminiscent of the outflung hand of a corpse. Or so she and Nick and Lillian had concluded years ago. When the tide came in a few hours from now, all but the very tip of the forefinger would be submerged.
The cove had been a favorite playground for all three Hartes in their youth. In addition to the macabre rock formation, it boasted an intricate network of small caves in the cliffs that framed the tiny beach. Together with Nick and Lillian, Hannah had spent hours exploring the rocky passages. The caves weren’t dangerously deep or convoluted, and they had made excellent hiding places for adventurous children.
Out in the cove, Winston dashed off after another seagull. He was certainly enjoying the stay in Eclipse Bay, Hannah thought. What surprised her was that she was strangely content also, in spite of the looming problem of Rafe Madison.
She and Winston had been here for the better part of a week, but she was no closer to resolving the sticky situation involving Dreamscape than she had been that first afternoon. Rafe refused even to discuss the possibility of selling his share of the mansion. A war of nerves was taking shape. They couldn’t go on like this indefinitely, she told herself. Sooner or later one of them would have to make a move toward ending the impasse.
Out on the sand, Winston found a piece of driftwood, seized it in his jaws, and pranced triumphantly back toward Hannah. Halfway across the cove he came to a sudden halt and looked up toward the cliff path.
Simultaneously a whisper of awareness tingled through Hannah. She sensed Rafe’s presence just before he spoke.
“Nice to see that Winston doesn’t stand on formality all the time,” he said.
Hannah braced herself for the little shock of excitement she always got when she first encountered him. She turned and saw that he had reached the bottom of the path. He came toward her with that supple masculine grace that was so much a part of him.
Time had not refined Rafe. The cool, savvy intelligence in his green eyes was more intense and more dangerous—the result of hard experience, no doubt. The bold, sharp planes and angles of his lean face had always had a strict cast, but the years had added an aura of brooding asceticism.
He had left behind the few traces of young manhood that had still clung to him that night on the beach. Nevertheless, for some reason he actually looked better than ever in a pair of jeans. Beneath the tautly stretched fabric of the black, long-sleeved T-shirt he wore, his shoulders seemed broader and stronger. His stomach was still very flat.
What was the matter with her? she wondered. For eight years she had excused herself for her small, youthful, short-lived crush on Rafe Madison. After all, he had been the bad boy of Eclipse Bay, and he had once walked her home after midnight. That was enough to induce a few lusty imaginings in any healthy young woman. But she was far too mature for that sort of romantic nonsense now. Wasn’t she?
She had never admitted the crush to anyone, of course—not even Lillian, although she suspected that her sister had guessed the truth. She had a right to her private little fantasies, she told herself. And it wasn’t as if she had spent the past few years wondering what she had missed. In fact, she had all but forgotten Rafe Madison until Isabel’s lawyer had called to give her the news about the will.
“Good morning, Rafe. Fancy meeting you here. Come to talk about Dreamscape?”
“I make it a policy not to talk business before noon.”
“Do you talk about it much after noon?”
“Only if I feel real energetic.” He leaned down to greet Winston. “I’m on my way into town to check the mail. Thought I’d see if you and the mutt wanted to go along.”
Her first reaction was surprise. This was the first overture of any kind that he had made since the initial confrontation at Dreamscape. Maybe he was going to blink first.
Or maybe she ought to be very, very careful.
On the other hand, sooner or later they had to start communicating.
“I do need to do some grocery shopping,” she said warily.
“Might as well go into town together.” He gave her an unreadable smile. “Give the good folk of Eclipse Bay a thrill.”
She held her blowing hair out of her eyes and peered at him closely. She could not tell if he was joking.
“All right,” she said finally.
He startled her with a fleeting grin. “That’s one of the things I always admired about you. You were never afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.”
She waved a hand toward Winston. “These days I’ve got my own wolf.”
Rafe eyed Winston with an assessing expression. “Five will get you ten that I can take the dog with one hand tied behind my back.”
“Don’t count on it, tough guy.”
An hour later Hannah emerged from Fulton’s Supermarket with a sack in each arm. She looked down the rows of pickups and SUVs parked in the small lot and saw the silver Porsche. Rafe had collected the mail and was waiting for her. He lounged against a gleaming fender, arms folded. A pair of mirrored sunglasses added to the gangster look.
Winston stood on his hind legs in the driver’s seat, front paws braced against the edge of the door, nose thrust through the open window. It warmed Hannah’s heart to see that he was watching for her return. You could always count on your dog.
She was halfway back to the Porsche when, to her astonishment, Rafe gave her a cool, arrogant smile. Very deliberately he uncrossed his arms and reached out to scratch Winston behind the ears.
It was glaringly evident that Winston did not object. Hannah saw a pink tongue emerge to lick Rafe’s hand. Irritation shot through her. Winston never got chummy with strangers, especially male strangers. Winston had standards.
Somehow, during the short time that she had been inside the grocery store, Rafe had co-opted her dog.
“Uh-oh.”
She quickened her steps, so intent on the spectacle of Winston and Rafe’s buddy-bonding that she never saw the big man who had climbed out of a battered pickup until he was directly in her path.
“Heard you and Madison were back in town,” Dell Sadler said. “Come back to screw on the beach for old times’ sake?”
Hannah skidded to a halt, barely avoiding a collision. But the abrupt stop sent a shudder through her that dislodged her grip on one of the grocery sacks, and it slipped out of her grasp. She heard an ominously squishy thud. The tomatoes, she thought. Luckily the eggs were in the other bag.
“Hello, Dell,” she said quietly.
She knew very little about Dell Sadler other than that he operated a towing service and a body shop on the outskirts of Eclipse Bay. He was a heavily built man in his late thirties with thinning hair and beefy hands. There had always been a grim, morose air about him, as though he had found life to be a serious disappointment and did not expect matters to improve.
“You two got a lot of gall coming back here after what you did.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Dell—”
He stepped toward her, hands balled into fists. “Think I’d be gone by now? Or that I’d forget what happened to Kaitlin? Or don’t you even give a damn?”
“This isn’t a good place to talk.” With an effort she kept her voice calm and soothing. “Maybe some other time.”
“Just because everyone else in this town bought that story about you and Rafe Madison getting it on at the beach the night my sister died, don’t think I did. I know damn well he killed her and you lied for him.”
“That’s not true, and I think that deep down inside you know it.” Hannah took a cautious step back, preparing to dart around him. “Please get out of my way.”
He thrust his face forward, raised a hand, and stabbed a finger at her chest. “Don’t you tell me what to do. Maybe everyone else around here kowtows to you Hartes, but I sure as hell don’t. Far as I’m concerned, you and Madison are both scum.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to Kaitlin,” Hannah said. “Everyone was. But I promise you, Rafe had nothing to do with it.”
“He must have screwed you silly to get you to cover for him the way you did.”
“Stop it.”
“I hear you’re back in town on account of that big house. Word is Madison wants the whole place for himself. Probably thinks if he does you long enough and hard enough, you’ll turn over your share.”
Hannah retreated again, clutching her one remaining sack of groceries. She came up hard against the unyielding fender of a big SUV. Dell closed in on her.
“Get out of my way,” she said very steadily, preparing to make a run for Rafe’s car.
“When I’m good and ready. I want you to know something. I won’t ever—”
Dell broke into a yelp as a hand locked on his shoulder from behind.
Rafe used the grip to spin Sadler neatly out of Hannah’s path. With seemingly little effort, he pinned the big man to the door of the pickup.
Simultaneously, Hannah heard a low, fierce growl. She glanced down and saw Winston. The Schnauzer stood braced in front of Dell Sadler.
“She asked you to get out of the way, Sadler,” Rafe said in a very soft voice.
“Screw you, you sonofabitch. You killed Kaitlin, I know you did.”
“I didn’t kill Kaitlin. I had no reason to kill her. If you ever decide you want to talk about it, come and see me. But don’t bother Hannah again. She had nothing to do with what happened to your sister.”
Dell scowled. “Take your hands off me, you bastard.”
Rafe shrugged, released him, and stepped back. He scooped up the sack of groceries that Hannah had dropped and took her arm.
“Let’s go,” he said.
She did not argue. They walked quickly back to the Porsche, Winston marching beside them. When Rafe opened the door, the Schnauzer jumped into the small space behind the seats. He kept his nose close to Hannah as Rafe switched on the ignition.
Hannah was acutely aware of several curious onlookers. “That little scene will keep tongues wagging for a day or two.”
Rafe drove out of the small lot onto Bayview Drive. “Told you we’d give the folks a thrill.”
A short silence fell. Hannah opened her purse and found her sunglasses. She put them on. Winston licked her ear. She stroked him soothingly.
“Two-timer,” she muttered. “I saw you licking Rafe’s hand earlier.”
Winston rested his chin on her shoulder and sighed in content.
“Your dog and I decided not to duel at dawn after all,” Rafe said.
“You both chickened out?”
“We prefer to think of it as a negotiated settlement.”
“Huh. Translated, I think that means that neither of you was willing to exert yourself to do battle in my honor.”
Rafe glanced at her, his gaze unreadable behind the shield of his sunglasses. “When a guy reaches a certain age, he has to pick and choose his battles. I think it’s called getting smart.”
“Excuses, excuses.” She peeked into the sack that had landed on the pavement. As she had suspected, the tomatoes were little more than pulp inside the plastic vegetable bag. The lettuce and mushrooms looked badly bruised too. “So much for dinner.”
Rafe said nothing for a moment. He drove with easy skill, but he seemed to be concentrating on the road with an unnecessary degree of attention.
“Got an idea,” he said after a while.
“I’m listening.”
“Why don’t you and Winston eat at my place tonight? I’ve got plenty of food.”
Another overture? Maybe he really was weakening. She tried not to look too eager.
“Seeing as how there isn’t much that’s very exciting in the other sack of groceries, I believe I can speak for both Winston and myself when I say that we’d be pleased to take you up on that offer.”
“Okay. Fine. It’s settled.”
She watched him out of the corner of her eye. “You appeared to have some hesitation in putting forth your invitation. Was it such a big deal to ask me over to dinner?”
He flexed his hands on the chunky steering wheel. “Had to work up my courage.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I was afraid you’d turn me down.”
“Why would I do that?” She gave what she hoped was a very blasé sort of shrug. “We’ve got to talk about our mutual business problem sooner or later. Might as well be tonight.”
“Wasn’t planning to talk about the house tonight.”
She stilled. “What do you plan to discuss?”
“Old times, maybe?”
She contemplated that for a moment. Then she gently cleared her throat. “You and I have only one incident between us that could conceivably be classified as old times.”
“True. But you’ve got to admit it was a hell of an incident. I could have gone to jail if it hadn’t been for you. That would have really messed up my big career plan. I told you that day I called to say good-bye that I owed you.”
“Still feel that way?” She smiled sweetly. “Sell me your half of the house and we’ll call it even.”
“Not feeling quite that grateful,” he said.
Rafe walked back into the solarium just as the September sky finally faded all the way to black. Hannah noticed that he did not turn on any lights. Winston, flat on his belly on the floor, looked up hopefully but lost interest when he saw the two snifters Rafe carried.
Rafe lowered himself into the wicker lounger next to Hannah and handed one of the glasses to her.
She watched the darkness settle over the bay and thought about the arugula, beet, blue cheese, and walnut salad and the pasta she had just finished. Rafe had glazed the walnuts with a little sugar and salt and heated them in the oven before adding them to the salad. The pasta had been flavored with an incredibly rich truffle-infused olive oil. A taste of heaven.
“Okay, so you can cook,” she said.
“Man’s gotta have a hobby.”
“I’m with you on that.” She took a sip of brandy. “For the record, you can fix dinner for me anytime.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that.” He cradled his snifter in both hands and gazed out the windows into the deepening night. “Sorry about that scene with Dell Sadler this afternoon.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Depends how you look at the situation, I think. If you hadn’t been with me the night Kaitlin died, you wouldn’t have had the run-in with Sadler today.”
“Well, there is that.” She was very conscious of him sitting there, not more than a few inches away. The darkness intensified the sense of intimacy. “About that night—”
He took a sip of brandy and waited.
“We never really talked about it.” She drew a breath and took the plunge. “You knew Kaitlin as well as anyone. What do you think happened? Do you think she committed suicide? Or was it an accident?”
He was quiet for a long time. “I’m almost positive that she did not jump.”
“What makes you so sure?”
He studied the brandy glass in his hands. “When she kicked me out of her car that night she was pissed as hell. She was angry, not depressed or desperate.”
“How angry?”
He tilted his head against the back of the lounger.
“Very. Said she’d had it with Eclipse Bay and everyone in it. Said she couldn’t wait to blow this burg.”
“Making plans for the future.”
“Yes.”
“So her death must have been an accident.”
Rafe said nothing.
Hannah cleared her throat. “I said, her death must have been an accident.”
“That’s certainly the most convenient explanation for all concerned.”
Shock held Hannah absolutely still for a few seconds. She finally found her breath and let it out very deliberately. “You want to elaborate on that?”
“No point.” Rafe sipped his brandy. “Not now.”
“You’re probably right. I guess we’ll never know what really happened that night.”
“No.”
Rafe was quiet for a while. She had the feeling that he had moved onto some other subject in his mind. Whatever it was, he did not seem to be inclined to discuss it, either.
She tried not to be so acutely aware of him reclining there so close beside her, but it was hopeless. Probably time to go home, she thought. Make that definitely. She was about to mention that it was getting late when Rafe spoke.
“Somthing I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“Umm?”
“What went wrong with Mr. Right?”
For some reason that was the last question she had expected. She hesitated, not certain how far she wanted to go down that particular road.
“It didn’t work out. What about you?” she added quickly to change the subject. “Heard you got married.”
“For a while.”
“What went wrong?”
“I told you that the men in my family aren’t real good at marriage,” he said.
“As I recall, I told you that was an excuse.”
Without warning, Rafe sat up on the edge of the lounger and rested his forearms on his knees. “Mitchell called today.”
Hannah blinked. He could switch topics quickly, too. “Your grandfather?”
“He wants me to come to dinner tomorrow night. Octavia Brightwell will be there. Says he wants me to meet her.”
Hannah thought quickly. “Brightwell. The owner of that new art gallery near the pier?”
“Yeah.” Rafe set his glass down on the table. “Apparently they’re involved, so to speak.”
“Good grief. I saw her on the street the other day. She’s young enough to be his granddaughter.”
“So I’m told.” He met her eyes in the shadows. “The thing is, I need a date.”
She nearly fell out of the lounger. “You want me to go to dinner at Mitchell Madison’s house?”
“Got anything better to do?”
“Well, gee, when you put it like that, I guess not. As you once observed so pithily, the entertainment options in Eclipse Bay are somewhat limited.” She paused. “Your grandfather won’t be exactly thrilled to see you walk into the house with a Harte.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll be on his best behavior because of his new girlfriend.”
“Mitchell Madison making nice with a Harte.” She smiled slowly. “Now that should be interesting.”
“Well?”
“Okay,” she said.
It was his turn to be wary. “You’ll do it?”
“Sure. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to promise me that afterward we’ll have our little chat about how we’re going to handle Dreamscape.”
He thought about that for a few seconds. One shoulder rose in a negligent motion. “It’s a deal.”
She felt a distinct chill all the way down her spine. But it was too late now to wonder if she’d just been had by Rafe Madison.
She came awake very suddenly, listening to the silence with all of her senses. Her first thought was that an intruder had entered the darkened house. But in the next heartbeat she reminded herself there was no way anyone could have broken in without alerting Winston.
She sat up slowly. “Winston?”
There was no response. She could not feel his weight at the foot of the bed. It struck her that during the past two years she had grown very accustomed to his companionship at night.
She swung her feet to the cold floor and stood. “Winston? Come here, pal.”
She did not hear his claws on the hardwood in the hall. Anxiety raised the hair on her arms. She grabbed her robe and stepped into her slippers, listening all the while for the smallest sounds.
Nothing.
She went to the door.
“Winston.” Louder this time.
A soft, answering whine came from the foot of the stairs. Winston was in the living room. He did not seem hurt or scared. Instead she thought she caught the unmistakable anticipation of the hunter in the low sound.
The relief was shattering. Not an intruder, after all. Winston had heard some small creature foraging around outside and had gone downstairs to investigate. Here in Eclipse Bay life was rich for a dog who had been raised in a high-rise apartment.
Taking a couple of deep breaths to get rid of the light-headed sensation, she hurried out into the hall and went down the stairs.
Winston was poised in front of the door. He glanced briefly at her and immediately returned his attention to whatever was prowling around outside. He scratched at the wood hopefully.
“It’s okay, pal. You’re a city dog. You’re not accustomed to the kinds of critters that hang around garbage cans out here in the boonies. Trust me—you don’t want to actually catch one of them.”
She reached out to pat his head. As soon as she touched him she realized that predatory tension was vibrating from one end of his sleek little body to the other. He ignored her hand. Everything in him was concentrated on whatever it was that had awakened him and drawn him downstairs.
Hannah went to the window. She pulled the curtain aside and discovered that sometime during the night a heavy fog had rolled in off the bay. She had left the porch light on, but its glow did not penetrate far into the thick mist that enveloped the house.
She told herself that she ought to go back to bed and leave Winston to his nocturnal amusements. But for some reason that she could not explain, she lingered at the front door and waited for him to lose interest in whatever skulked in the shadows.
It seemed a very long time before Winston relaxed, licked her hand, and led the way briskly back upstairs.