The Waterfall by Carla Neggers Page A

hiking boots. He was lean, tanned, fit—and alert, Lucy thought. That was the first thing she’d noticed when she’d met him all those years ago, just how alert he was. She could feel him taking in everything about her, from her sneakers to her wild hair.
    He was worse than an ex-CIA agent. Maybe he was an ex-CIA agent. She suddenly realized she knew very little about him. What if she’d taken her promise to Colin out of context, and Sebastian Redwing was the last person she should have asked for help?
    She adjusted her shirt. “I thought you weren’t interested in helping me.”
    â€œI’m not.”
    â€œThen go back to Wyoming.” She stepped past him and climbed onto the stone wall. “I didn’t mean I wanted your help as in you sneaking around my woods. I wanted your opinion.” She looked back at him, breathing hard, fighting for some way to assert her control over the situation. “Do note my use of the past tense.”
    â€œNoted.”
    She took a deep breath. “I sure as hell didn’t want you scaring me out of a tree.”
    â€œI didn’t scare you out of your tree. You scared yourself.” He stepped over the stone wall, tall enough he didn’t have to climb up over the rocks piled up by long-ago farmers, probably his ancestors. “You should find out what you’re dealing with before you react.”
    â€œYeah, well, I’m good with canoes and kayaks and snapping beans. I’m not so good with men jumping out of the brush at me.”
    He smiled. It was an unsettling smile, not meant, she felt, to reach his eyes. Which it didn’t. “You nailed me with your binoculars.”
    â€œIt wasn’t deliberate.”
    He handed them back to her. “I used to climb that tree when I was a kid.”
    His words brought her up short. He was, after all, Daisy’s grandson. He’d sold this place to her. It was more his turf than hers, no matter whose name was on the deed.
    Lucy went out into the field, more comfortable on open ground. “How does it feel to be back here?”
    He shrugged. “I’d forgotten how pesky mosquitoes can be.”
    She slung the binoculars over her neck. “I never meant for you to come here.”
    â€œWhat did you mean for me to do?”
    â€œTell me I wasn’t in any danger.”
    There was still nothing she could reliably read in his eyes.
    â€œAnd how was I supposed to know that without coming here?” he asked.
    â€œInstincts and experience.”
    â€œIn other words, I was supposed to release you from all your worries from the comfort of my hammock.” He eyed her a moment, then added in a low voice, “Believe me, that would have suited us both.”
    â€œI don’t want you going to any trouble on my account—”
    â€œToo late.”
    With a groan of frustration, Lucy started across the field. She took long strides, hoping to separate herself from Sebastian Redwing as fast as possible.
    He didn’t say a word. He didn’t come after her.
    She stopped dead in her tracks and swung around. He was just a few yards behind her, as tall and immovable as an oak. And she’d all but invited him here. “You can go back to Wyoming now.”
    â€œI can do whatever I want to do.”
    â€œYou’re trying to spook me. Well, forget it. I’ve been living out here, just me and the kids, for the better part of three years. I don’t spook easily.”
    â€œWhat about the bullet through your dining room window?”
    â€œThat’s over. It was nothing. I was wrong.”
    He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. No incidents since you got back from Wyoming?”
    â€œNo. None.” She frowned, wondering if she’d be less agitated if he weren’t so damn calm. She was letting him get to her. She never let irritating people get to her. “When did you arrive?”
    â€œA couple days ago.”
    She held her