her latest mission on Hannah's behalf would fit into his scheme of things, but she wouldn't expect patience or understanding.
She was accustomed to sparing the men in her life details they didn't need to know, especially when they involved her great-aunt. The Macintosh men were less indulgent of Hannah's whims. For years they'd warned Piper that her propensity for doing her aunt's bidding would get her into trouble one of these days. If she told them about the calls, they'd jump way ahead of the facts and there'd be no peace. She had no reason to believe Clate would be any different, and she didn't need a man breathing down her neck while she was still trying to sort out her options.
But to her surprise, once again he didn't pressure her to talk. "All right. If you decide you want to tell me what you know, I'll be around most of the day."
If similarly provoked, her brothers would have had a totally different reaction. Probably it would have involved dunking her into the cold tide until she talked. Piper nodded. "Thanks." She lifted the damp hem of her nightgown. "I'm a mess. I should go back up and get dressed. I didn't expect you to be out this early."
"Nice sunrise."
She managed a smile. "Yes. Are you technically on vacation?"
"No. I've got a hand in things back in Nashville. I just came up here to get a feel for the place. I'm hoping to come back for a couple of weeks later in the summer."
"Then you don't plan to stay long?"
He grinned at her. "Do I see a gleam of hope in your eye?"
Piper suppressed all thought of Russian princesses and buried treasure. "No, certainly not. I—"
He laughed. "Well, if your aunt wants more valerian root, she need only ask."
"That's a softer stance than you had when you caught me."
"I'm not at my best at four in the morning, and I did say she should ask."
Piper nodded thoughtfully, wondering how he would respond to a request from his house's former owner to dig under his wisteria.
No. She wouldn't tell him. She needed to keep things simple. In her experience, the fewer people who knew about Hannah's missions, the better.
"Well," Piper said breezily, "have a good day."
He hung back, suspicion flaring again in his eyes. "You, too."
He was not a man to go plunging in whenever suspicion beckoned. He would bide his time, observe, remember. If she intended to continue to play loose with the truth, she thought, she'd have to be careful to keep her story straight. One misstep, and Clate Jackson would swoop in for the kill.
He remained on the beach as she walked back up the path through the marsh. She could feel his eyes on her. A hot shower, clean clothes, breakfast. They'd put her back on track, and then she'd figure out what to do about the phone calls, Hannah, and buried treasure.
She was halfway through her breakfast of homemade granola, fresh strawberries, and yogurt when her telephone rang. Her heart skidded. She decided to screen the call. If it was the same jerk as earlier, she wanted his voice on tape.
But it was Hannah. Piper snatched up her cordless phone at the sound of her aunt's voice. "I'm here," she said.
"Why didn't you answer?"
"Because I'm screening my calls. Remember that weirdo who called the other day? He's bugging me again. Or she. I really couldn't make out the voice." She tried to keep her tone light, not to let her earlier panic and fear show in her voice. "Hannah, you're sure you haven't mentioned your treasure to anyone else?"
"Absolutely."
Which didn't mean, at eighty-seven, she hadn't.
"Why?" her aunt asked. "Did the caller mention it?"
"No—no, not at all. I just wondered at the coincidence." The caller must have known she'd been out on date's property last night. She considered telling Hannah, then decided better of it. There was nothing Hannah could do but worry, and Piper preferred her aunt to enjoy boiling up her herbal concoctions and playing with her new microwave and computer. "Well, it's probably nothing. What can I do for you?"
Hannah
She was accustomed to sparing the men in her life details they didn't need to know, especially when they involved her great-aunt. The Macintosh men were less indulgent of Hannah's whims. For years they'd warned Piper that her propensity for doing her aunt's bidding would get her into trouble one of these days. If she told them about the calls, they'd jump way ahead of the facts and there'd be no peace. She had no reason to believe Clate would be any different, and she didn't need a man breathing down her neck while she was still trying to sort out her options.
But to her surprise, once again he didn't pressure her to talk. "All right. If you decide you want to tell me what you know, I'll be around most of the day."
If similarly provoked, her brothers would have had a totally different reaction. Probably it would have involved dunking her into the cold tide until she talked. Piper nodded. "Thanks." She lifted the damp hem of her nightgown. "I'm a mess. I should go back up and get dressed. I didn't expect you to be out this early."
"Nice sunrise."
She managed a smile. "Yes. Are you technically on vacation?"
"No. I've got a hand in things back in Nashville. I just came up here to get a feel for the place. I'm hoping to come back for a couple of weeks later in the summer."
"Then you don't plan to stay long?"
He grinned at her. "Do I see a gleam of hope in your eye?"
Piper suppressed all thought of Russian princesses and buried treasure. "No, certainly not. I—"
He laughed. "Well, if your aunt wants more valerian root, she need only ask."
"That's a softer stance than you had when you caught me."
"I'm not at my best at four in the morning, and I did say she should ask."
Piper nodded thoughtfully, wondering how he would respond to a request from his house's former owner to dig under his wisteria.
No. She wouldn't tell him. She needed to keep things simple. In her experience, the fewer people who knew about Hannah's missions, the better.
"Well," Piper said breezily, "have a good day."
He hung back, suspicion flaring again in his eyes. "You, too."
He was not a man to go plunging in whenever suspicion beckoned. He would bide his time, observe, remember. If she intended to continue to play loose with the truth, she thought, she'd have to be careful to keep her story straight. One misstep, and Clate Jackson would swoop in for the kill.
He remained on the beach as she walked back up the path through the marsh. She could feel his eyes on her. A hot shower, clean clothes, breakfast. They'd put her back on track, and then she'd figure out what to do about the phone calls, Hannah, and buried treasure.
She was halfway through her breakfast of homemade granola, fresh strawberries, and yogurt when her telephone rang. Her heart skidded. She decided to screen the call. If it was the same jerk as earlier, she wanted his voice on tape.
But it was Hannah. Piper snatched up her cordless phone at the sound of her aunt's voice. "I'm here," she said.
"Why didn't you answer?"
"Because I'm screening my calls. Remember that weirdo who called the other day? He's bugging me again. Or she. I really couldn't make out the voice." She tried to keep her tone light, not to let her earlier panic and fear show in her voice. "Hannah, you're sure you haven't mentioned your treasure to anyone else?"
"Absolutely."
Which didn't mean, at eighty-seven, she hadn't.
"Why?" her aunt asked. "Did the caller mention it?"
"No—no, not at all. I just wondered at the coincidence." The caller must have known she'd been out on date's property last night. She considered telling Hannah, then decided better of it. There was nothing Hannah could do but worry, and Piper preferred her aunt to enjoy boiling up her herbal concoctions and playing with her new microwave and computer. "Well, it's probably nothing. What can I do for you?"
Hannah
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