start this morning, at breakfast. With that thought in mind, she went downstairs to prepare the meal.
Kyle wasn't in the house.
Jenny called him, looked in the den, the kitchen. She glanced outside, but there was no sign of him. With her heart in her throat, she slowly went back upstairs and into his room. Had he gone, left as he said he was going to do? His clothes were still in the wardrobe, and she sagged against the door in relief. Wherever he was, he’d be back.
Spending the morning doing the laundry, Jenny stripped the beds, emptied the linen basket and worked at her desk between loads as the washer did its work. Once the clothes and sheets were finished, she sorted, folded, and went to put the things away. Making her bed, she quickly put away her clothes.
She went into Kyle's room. It took only a few minutes to make the bed. She then turned to the dresser to put away his clothes. The top drawer opened easily beneath her fingers. Her breath caught. There, on top of a couple of handkerchiefs, was his gun.
She stared at it for a long minute. She frowned, picturing it in his hand. Kyle confronting another armed man. A gunshot. She shook her head at the picture. He had already been shot once, what if he were again, more critically next time? Fear for his very life coursed through her as she envisaged the danger he faced. She couldn't stand it if he were killed! Shouldn’t he have taken it with him? Much as she didn’t like thinking about a possible confrontation, the thought of such a meeting without his being armed was impossible to consider.
Ignoring the gun, she put away his things. Slamming shut the last drawer, she fled the room, trying to flee the thoughts and pictures her mind played.
The phone rang, interrupting her musing. She hurried to answer it. It was one of the men she had met in Sacramento, Jason Sperry.
'Have Kyle call me when he gets back,' he said when Jenny told him Kyle wasn't in.
'Call you there?'
'Yes. I have the information he requested yesterday.'
'I don't know when he'll be back,' she said, wondering if Jason would find that odd.
'If he doesn't reach me here, he has my home phone number. I'll take the stuff with me.'
'I'll tell him when he comes in.'
The day dragged by. Jenny tried her best to keep herself busy with work and household chores. Time and time again, however, her gaze was drawn outside. She searched from each window, looking for Kyle. Where had he gone? He had talked about leaving, but he wouldn't leave this way. Anyway, she told herself, his clothes were still all upstairs. And the gun.
Shasta patiently padded at Jenny's side as she wandered restlessly through the house. As the afternoon waned, Jenny looked at her dog.
'Are you a tracker? If you were a bloodhound, you could find him for me.'
Shasta cocked his head, his tail slowly thumping on the floor. Suddenly, he leaped to his feet and ran to the door, his tail wagging furiously.
Kyle opened it and calmly walked in.
Jenny's heart skipped a beat, then began a slow heavy pounding.
'Hi,' she smiled, swallowing the nervous flutter. 'Been sleuthing?' The worry of earlier was suddenly gone; he hadn't left!
He nodded. 'Yes, and I'm beat. Do I have time to take a shower before dinner?'
'Sure.'
Once she heard the water running, Jenny slipped up to her room to freshen her make-up, brush her hair and touch just a little of her perfume to her neck, ears, between her breasts. Leaving the top three buttons of her shirt unfastened, she smiled saucily in the mirror, before turning to return to the kitchen.
When Kyle came in, he sat at his usual place. Jenny watched, her eyes feasting on him: on the still damp, dark hair springing up from his forehead, his wide shoulders, the color now back in his face. His brown eyes were wary, watchful as he took his seat. The dark shirt and tight jeans emphasized his athletic build. To look at him, it didn't seem possible he had been seriously injured only a few weeks ago.
Jenny brought
Kyle wasn't in the house.
Jenny called him, looked in the den, the kitchen. She glanced outside, but there was no sign of him. With her heart in her throat, she slowly went back upstairs and into his room. Had he gone, left as he said he was going to do? His clothes were still in the wardrobe, and she sagged against the door in relief. Wherever he was, he’d be back.
Spending the morning doing the laundry, Jenny stripped the beds, emptied the linen basket and worked at her desk between loads as the washer did its work. Once the clothes and sheets were finished, she sorted, folded, and went to put the things away. Making her bed, she quickly put away her clothes.
She went into Kyle's room. It took only a few minutes to make the bed. She then turned to the dresser to put away his clothes. The top drawer opened easily beneath her fingers. Her breath caught. There, on top of a couple of handkerchiefs, was his gun.
She stared at it for a long minute. She frowned, picturing it in his hand. Kyle confronting another armed man. A gunshot. She shook her head at the picture. He had already been shot once, what if he were again, more critically next time? Fear for his very life coursed through her as she envisaged the danger he faced. She couldn't stand it if he were killed! Shouldn’t he have taken it with him? Much as she didn’t like thinking about a possible confrontation, the thought of such a meeting without his being armed was impossible to consider.
Ignoring the gun, she put away his things. Slamming shut the last drawer, she fled the room, trying to flee the thoughts and pictures her mind played.
The phone rang, interrupting her musing. She hurried to answer it. It was one of the men she had met in Sacramento, Jason Sperry.
'Have Kyle call me when he gets back,' he said when Jenny told him Kyle wasn't in.
'Call you there?'
'Yes. I have the information he requested yesterday.'
'I don't know when he'll be back,' she said, wondering if Jason would find that odd.
'If he doesn't reach me here, he has my home phone number. I'll take the stuff with me.'
'I'll tell him when he comes in.'
The day dragged by. Jenny tried her best to keep herself busy with work and household chores. Time and time again, however, her gaze was drawn outside. She searched from each window, looking for Kyle. Where had he gone? He had talked about leaving, but he wouldn't leave this way. Anyway, she told herself, his clothes were still all upstairs. And the gun.
Shasta patiently padded at Jenny's side as she wandered restlessly through the house. As the afternoon waned, Jenny looked at her dog.
'Are you a tracker? If you were a bloodhound, you could find him for me.'
Shasta cocked his head, his tail slowly thumping on the floor. Suddenly, he leaped to his feet and ran to the door, his tail wagging furiously.
Kyle opened it and calmly walked in.
Jenny's heart skipped a beat, then began a slow heavy pounding.
'Hi,' she smiled, swallowing the nervous flutter. 'Been sleuthing?' The worry of earlier was suddenly gone; he hadn't left!
He nodded. 'Yes, and I'm beat. Do I have time to take a shower before dinner?'
'Sure.'
Once she heard the water running, Jenny slipped up to her room to freshen her make-up, brush her hair and touch just a little of her perfume to her neck, ears, between her breasts. Leaving the top three buttons of her shirt unfastened, she smiled saucily in the mirror, before turning to return to the kitchen.
When Kyle came in, he sat at his usual place. Jenny watched, her eyes feasting on him: on the still damp, dark hair springing up from his forehead, his wide shoulders, the color now back in his face. His brown eyes were wary, watchful as he took his seat. The dark shirt and tight jeans emphasized his athletic build. To look at him, it didn't seem possible he had been seriously injured only a few weeks ago.
Jenny brought
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