Читать книгу Secrets Between Them - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 11

IN NICK’S EXPERIENCE MOST people loved to talk about themselves. Not Jennifer. He would have found her lack of self-absorption appealing if it hadn’t been so counter to his purposes. Every time he managed to orchestrate the conversation around to her life—and her friends’ lives—Jennifer quickly steered it back to him.

As they made their way to a booth along the far wall, he took stock of all the Simone DeRosier paraphernalia on display. Yesterday he’d been so focused on Molly and Jennifer that he hadn’t noticed the framed photographs and posters.

Despite having seen hundreds of pictures of Simone, and hours of videotape, he was struck anew by how in-your-face beautiful she had been. He wondered if that had ever bothered Jennifer. Most of the women he knew admitted to the odd bit of jealousy. But so far he hadn’t caught a glimpse of it in Jennifer.

Was the woman really too good to be true?

“Anything to drink?” The female server was at their table before they’d opened their menus. She looked and sounded a little grumpy, but Jennifer gave her a warm smile anyway.

“I’ll have a coffee, please, Josie. Thanks a lot.”

The server turned to him and he asked for his usual. “I think I’ll have a double latte, no fat, extra hot.”

The server gaped. “What?”

He winked at Jennifer. “Just coffee for me, too, please.”

The poor woman, now more confused than grouchy shook her head slightly, then walked away, heading for the coffee station next to the kitchen.

“That was mean, Nick, teasing Josie that way.”

And yet she was smiling, if rather reluctantly.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” He liked seeing Jennifer smile, though she was still pretty when she didn’t. Yesterday when he’d watched her picking flowers in the garden, he’d had a few moments when he’d actually felt bowled over.

And his reaction had puzzled him. Typically his taste in women ran to urban sophisticates. His ex-fiancée had been—and still was—a senior editor at his publishing house.

Karen was amusing, smart and witty. And, he had to admit it, she’d had a bit of a cruel streak, too. He had a feeling she would have satirized Jennifer’s sweet, unassuming ways.

Don’t you think it’s an act, darling? No one could possibly be that nice.

Yet, she was. He didn’t doubt for a minute that Jennifer March was the real deal.

The server came back with their coffees. Jennifer pushed aside her menu and leaned closer to him. “Do you know what you’d like to eat? The seafood cassoulet is Derby’s specialty.”

He was more of a burger guy himself, but he nodded. “I’ll try it.”

Josie nodded, then scurried back to the kitchen. Jennifer leaned closer. “So tell me about your books.”

He stifled a groan.

“What are they about? How long does it take you to write one?”

She’d beaten him to the punch. Got the conversation rolling in exactly the wrong direction. Now he had no choice but to talk about the very subject he wanted to avoid. “Every book is different. The last one took three years, including research.”

“Is that why you’re here? To do research?”

“Yes.” Nick made a production of passing Jenn the cream and offering her sugar. Then he took a long drink of his coffee, even though it was so hot it scalded the roof of his mouth.

Of course he was eventually going to have to come clean with what he was doing here and what his book was about. He probably should have done so already. But once he did, she’d be more conscious about what she was telling him. This might be his only opportunity to get some unguarded thoughts and opinions.

Nick smiled and Jennifer’s cheeks pinkened again. She was so damned cute and clearly she liked him. Maybe…

No. That was definitely a bad idea. A little flirting, a little fun, sure. But this couldn’t go any further than that.

“A few years ago we had another author stay at our B and B,” Jennifer said. “Craig Richards. Have you heard of him?”

Great. She was talking about writing again. Nick shook his head.

“He was researching a kayakers’ guide to the Gulf Islands. I have an autographed copy of his book in the sitting room.”

Nick wondered if Jennifer would want an autographed copy of his book when he was done. It might be fun to come back here after the book was out and sign some copies for the locals…

But he was getting ahead of himself. He had to write the damn thing first. And to do that, he needed facts. Feeling a little like a tennis player trapped in an endless volley, he looked pointedly at the poster of Simone on the wall beside them.

“I guess the locals are pretty proud of their celebrity.”

Jennifer’s posture tightened. She didn’t look at the poster as she said, “Yes, we are.”

Why was she so guarded every time he mentioned the famous singer? He pretended not to notice the reaction. “So how did you keep up your friendship after she became famous? She must have been very busy.”

“Simone was the kind of person who made things happen. If a hole opened in her schedule, she would be on the phone, arranging things. One day I’d get a call from her, the next I’d be taking the ferry to Vancouver to catch a flight.”

“Is that how your Europe trip happened?”

She nodded. “Simone had the idea on a Tuesday and we were in the air a week later. Between trips we stayed in touch with long phone calls.”

“All worked around her schedule, of course. Her convenience, her availability.”

Jennifer’s eyes narrowed. “She had more demands on her time than I did.”

Having seen how hard Jennifer worked, Nick doubted that.

“Simone wasn’t perfect, but she was my friend. And I loved her.”

Maybe she had. She sure seemed sincere. But Nick wondered if he might be getting to the source of all that tension he sensed. The friendship seemed to be more one-sided than Jennifer was prepared to admit. “You must have been devastated when she died.”

“It was awful. Especially at first when we believed she’d killed herself.”

Emerson had set up his crime to look like suicide. And for over a year, he’d fooled everyone. During that time there must have been a lot of guilt. And all the forget-me-not friends would have felt it. “It must have been torture for her husband…”

“Yes. Harrison took it the hardest.”

Nick had figured he would have. “But it was Harrison who eventually proved Simone was murdered, right?”

She nodded. “We all thought he was crazy when he first told us his theory. No one more so than Justine. But it turned out that Emerson was the crazy one and Harrison was right.”

“That must have been a real shocker. Had any of you suspected Emerson had these obsessive, romantic feelings for Simone?”

“No. It was always Harrison and Gabe fighting over her, so we were all dumbfounded. But after Emerson killed himself, the RCMP found papers in his house. Apparently in his mind Simone had loved him more than anyone else in the world. When he got up his nerve to tell her he loved her and wanted her to leave Harrison, and she refused, he killed her, then staged the scene to look like suicide. I still can’t believe it.”

Jennifer wasn’t even looking at him as she spoke. Clearly she was reliving the past, still trying to come to grips with the horrible death of her friend.

Poor Jennifer. He felt sympathy for her, and that worried him. It would be crazy for him to let his conscience get in the way now. This was good stuff. He had to keep her talking.

“That wasn’t the first time Emerson committed murder, was it?”

“No. Years ago he killed his parents.”

The articles Nick had read had alluded to past homicides but had been hazy with details. He leaned forward to catch every detail of Jennifer’s answer.

“It was so cold-blooded and…and senseless, Nick. They wanted to retire. That was all. That’s why he killed them.”

“But what did their retirement matter to him?”

“They were going to sell the landscaping company and use the proceeds to buy a place in Arizona. Emerson had worked at the family business all his life.”

“So it was about money?”

“That’s right. For the sake of a few hundred thousand dollars, Emerson rigged the brakes in the family car and his parents died in a horrible accident.”

The color of her eyes grew more intense, thanks to a sudden pooling of tears. Jennifer brushed them away. “But here I am babbling about people you don’t even know. You must be bored.”

Nick cleared his throat. It was time to come clean. He drew the line at lying.

“Actually, Jennifer, I do—”

“Two specials,” Josie announced, arriving at their table with a tray.

Nick sat back in his chair to give her room to unload the plates. Jennifer was smiling at the woman again, chatting about local politics. When the server finally left, the moment was lost.

He’d have to wait for another opportunity to discuss Simone DeRosier and the forget-me-not friends again.

AFTER LUNCH, JENNIFER GAVE Nick the full-blown tour. The island had been explored by the Spanish and the British in the 1700s, but wasn’t settled until the 1850s. Most of the residents worked in small businesses or as farmers or fishermen. Logging wasn’t permitted anywhere on the island, so except for a few cultivated areas, the rain forest remained majestic and untamed.

As they drove leisurely along the main road that circled the island, Jennifer enjoyed sharing her knowledge of the place she’d called home all her life. It was strange how proud she was of a place that sometimes felt like a prison to her.

But the isolation was a big part of the island’s charm. Though they weren’t far, as the crow flies, from the mainland, the combined ferry crossings meant that it took over half a day to travel to either Vancouver or Victoria, the two nearest cities. And because Summer Island was so lightly populated, even during high season the ferry only ran two times a day. If you were late…you were stuck where you were until the next scheduled crossing.

“Arbutus Grove Park.” Nick read aloud the sign on the side of the road, automatically slowing the Rover’s speed at the same time. “Wow, look at those trees.”

The diameter of some of the cedars spanned ten feet or more. Then there were the arbutus, rare broad-leafed evergreens with smooth dark red wood. This was the largest preserved grove of arbutus in all the Gulf Islands.

“This forest is our equivalent to the Queen’s crown jewels. Want to stop and hike down to the ocean?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Nick took her arm as she stepped out of the vehicle, and he kept hold of her hand as they settled on one of the paths that promised a two-kilometer scramble to the rocky shoreline.

“Watch your step,” Nick said as they came across a fallen tree in their path.

He was a courteous companion. Charming. Good company. He’d paid the check for their lunch without her even noticing. And easy to talk to. Jennifer couldn’t remember the last time she’d babbled so much.

He seemed interested in all of it. Her happy, carefree childhood. Aunt Annie’s previous life as a midwife. Her father’s attempts to retain his independence, even though the stroke had robbed him of most of the strength on his left side.

He was wonderfully attentive. The only problem was, whenever she asked a question of him, he wasn’t nearly as forthcoming as she would have liked.

It would be exaggerating to label him secretive…but not by much. She decided to try again. “Have you always lived in New York City?”

“Born and raised.”

She felt a little envious of that. Every time she’d visited Simone there, she’d loved the city. But she’d felt out of her element, too. She suspected no one who hadn’t grown up there could ever feel like they really belonged in a place like New York City.

“It’s hard to imagine a place more different from New York than Summer Island. It must seem very dull here to you.”

Jennifer was having a good time with Nick, but she couldn’t get a read on the man. There were moments when he withdrew into himself and appeared a little cool and distant. But mostly he seemed to enjoy being around her as much as she enjoyed being with him.

In fact, there were times, like now, when she caught a glimpse of something more in his eyes.

“Jennifer?” He pulled gently on her arm, forcing her to stop walking and look at him. “Nothing I’ve seen on Summer Island so far has seemed dull to me.”

She swallowed, trapped in place by the power of his gaze. A slow heat started at her core and began to build. The world collapsed into one small area…the space between him and her.

And then that space began to shrink as he lowered his head and wrapped his arms around her.

“Jennifer?”

She could hardly breathe. “Yes?”

He didn’t have an answer. Only a kiss. And while she’d been expecting it, she hadn’t expected to feel so much from it. The wine last night hadn’t been nearly this intoxicating. She went up on tiptoe and settled her hands tentatively on the firm platform of his shoulders.

His lips brushed softly over hers, settling on her cheek, then her ear, then the side of her head.

More, she wanted to demand. I need more.

But he let her go. He turned his face to the side, looking just a tad guilty. He probably hadn’t planned for that kiss to happen. Now he was worried she was going to read too much into it.

She took a step away from him. “Well. That wasn’t supposed to be part of the tour.”

They laughed uneasily, then continued walking.

“You’re sure you don’t have a boyfriend who’s going to punch my lights out for doing that?”

“No boyfriend. Not in a long time. Wait. That makes me sound just a little pathetic, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all. At least I hope not since I’m not in a relationship right now, either. But what about the guy you almost married? Does he still live on the island?”

“No. He never did. It was a long-distance thing and it happened a long time ago. His name was Barry Collins.”

“Barry Collins. I feel like I’ve heard that name before. Should I have?”

Only if he read the fine print in the movie magazines. But surely a man like Nick wouldn’t waste his time with reading material like that.

“I met Barry through Simone. She introduced us after one of her concerts. Looking back, I can see our relationship was doomed to fail. We had nothing in common.”

“But he asked you to marry him. So things must have been pretty serious between the two of you. What went wrong?”

She hesitated, not sure how to put it. Everyone here knew the entire story, but Nick didn’t need the long version. “I found out I couldn’t trust him.”

Something dark flashed in Nick’s eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

“The details don’t really matter. Like I said, it was all ages ago.” Barry Collins represented a period of her life that she didn’t like to think back on. What was the point? Best to move on and concentrate on the positive. That was the attitude she always tried to take.

“There’s the beach.” She pointed ahead, using an evasive technique on him for a change.

“Some beach.” The shoreline was raised about ten feet from the water’s edge and this was high tide. He pulled Jennifer close again.

“You didn’t answer my last question,” he said.

Their faces were almost as close as they’d been in the moment before he’d kissed her. Jennifer dampened her lips, then took a breath for courage before she could force herself to meet his gaze. “You’ve been avoiding my questions, too.”

“Not true.”

“Yes, you have.” She loved looking at him, watching the various emotions play upon his face. He had a very expressive mouth. Right now it was being held firmly in check, as if he didn’t want so much as a facial twitch to give him away.

“What do you want to know, Jennifer?”

The hint of playfulness that had been in his eyes earlier was gone. She took his free hand in hers and held on tightly, afraid that she might be venturing into territory she’d rather not know about.

“Start with your book, Nick. Tell me what you’re writing about.”