fingers through her hair in frustration.
“I can’t believe I let that get so out of hand.”
Jack glanced at her as he pulled around her car and headed for the hotel.
“That man who cut your tire…you known him long?”
“All my life.”
“Have you two ever dated?”
She snorted lightly beneath her breath. “No. I’ve never been that desperate.”
Jack savored the news while stifling a grin. “Since we’re being a little personal here, I can’t help but wonder why a woman like you hasn’t married.”
Isabella turned to look at him, absently noting that his profile was as hard and unforgiving as the surrounding mountains.
“Exactly what is a woman like me?” she asked, and then thought she saw a flash of color on his cheeks.
“You have to know how beautiful you are,” Jack said, and then tapped the brakes as a deer bounded across the road.
“Local hazard,” Isabella said, then added, “And thank you for the compliment.”
Jack nodded. “You’re welcome. So…why aren’t you married?”
“You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
“It goes with the job,” he said without thinking. Then silently cursed his stupidity. He’d been thinking about being a Federal agent when he’d said that.
“Yes, I suppose writers do have to be more persistent than most.”
“Right,” he said, and relaxed slightly, reminding himself to be more careful about what he said, then added, “But you still haven’t answered me.”
Isabella laughed out loud and then winced.
“Ouch,” she mumbled, and pressed her fingers against the cut on her lip. “Lord! The uncles are going to have a fit.”
“As they should,” Jack said.
Isabella grinned. “My hero,” she said, and this time she knew she saw him blush. “I’m not married because I’ve never been in love, and I happen to believe that the two go hand in hand.”
“Never?”
“Except for Phillip Hanson.”
Even before he asked, Jack decided he didn’t like Phillip Hanson.
“Who’s he?”
“The boy who sat in front of me in second grade. He gave me bubble gum every day for two weeks. I was in love right up until the day Margaret Bailey moved to town. After that, he started giving her what I considered to be my gum, and we fell out of love as quickly as we’d started.”
This time Jack was the one who laughed. “It was his loss.”
Isabella sighed as she clasped her hands together in her lap. The ugliness of what had transpired was fading, and it was all due to Jack Dolan’s kindness.
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
He frowned. “If I’d been quicker, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“No, not for that,” she said. “For making me laugh.”
A wry grin tilted one corner of his mouth.
“You’re welcome.”
“We’re almost there,” Isabella said, pointing toward the windshield.
Jack looked past the road to the looming mountain beyond the hotel.
“That’s quite a backdrop,” he said.
“What? White Mountain?”
He nodded.
Her gaze slid from the three-story hotel in the distance to the massive shift of rock beyond it, and she suddenly shuddered. “Yes, magnificent, isn’t it? Although when I was a child, it gave me the creeps.”
It was the last thing Jack would have expected her to say.
“Why?”
“No good reason,” she said, and then shrugged off the chill she’d gotten as she’d looked up toward the craggy peak. “I used to imagine that something wicked lived on the mountain.”
“And now?”
“Now I know that wickedness can be anywhere. Let’s just say I’ve learned to adjust.”
Jack knew she was referring in part to Frank Walton’s murder. It was the opportune time to throw in a few questions.
“You’re talking about your uncle’s murder, aren’t you?”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I guess I am.”
“Was he on vacation?”
She frowned. “I think so. It was all so sudden. One
“I can’t believe I let that get so out of hand.”
Jack glanced at her as he pulled around her car and headed for the hotel.
“That man who cut your tire…you known him long?”
“All my life.”
“Have you two ever dated?”
She snorted lightly beneath her breath. “No. I’ve never been that desperate.”
Jack savored the news while stifling a grin. “Since we’re being a little personal here, I can’t help but wonder why a woman like you hasn’t married.”
Isabella turned to look at him, absently noting that his profile was as hard and unforgiving as the surrounding mountains.
“Exactly what is a woman like me?” she asked, and then thought she saw a flash of color on his cheeks.
“You have to know how beautiful you are,” Jack said, and then tapped the brakes as a deer bounded across the road.
“Local hazard,” Isabella said, then added, “And thank you for the compliment.”
Jack nodded. “You’re welcome. So…why aren’t you married?”
“You’re persistent, aren’t you?”
“It goes with the job,” he said without thinking. Then silently cursed his stupidity. He’d been thinking about being a Federal agent when he’d said that.
“Yes, I suppose writers do have to be more persistent than most.”
“Right,” he said, and relaxed slightly, reminding himself to be more careful about what he said, then added, “But you still haven’t answered me.”
Isabella laughed out loud and then winced.
“Ouch,” she mumbled, and pressed her fingers against the cut on her lip. “Lord! The uncles are going to have a fit.”
“As they should,” Jack said.
Isabella grinned. “My hero,” she said, and this time she knew she saw him blush. “I’m not married because I’ve never been in love, and I happen to believe that the two go hand in hand.”
“Never?”
“Except for Phillip Hanson.”
Even before he asked, Jack decided he didn’t like Phillip Hanson.
“Who’s he?”
“The boy who sat in front of me in second grade. He gave me bubble gum every day for two weeks. I was in love right up until the day Margaret Bailey moved to town. After that, he started giving her what I considered to be my gum, and we fell out of love as quickly as we’d started.”
This time Jack was the one who laughed. “It was his loss.”
Isabella sighed as she clasped her hands together in her lap. The ugliness of what had transpired was fading, and it was all due to Jack Dolan’s kindness.
“Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
He frowned. “If I’d been quicker, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“No, not for that,” she said. “For making me laugh.”
A wry grin tilted one corner of his mouth.
“You’re welcome.”
“We’re almost there,” Isabella said, pointing toward the windshield.
Jack looked past the road to the looming mountain beyond the hotel.
“That’s quite a backdrop,” he said.
“What? White Mountain?”
He nodded.
Her gaze slid from the three-story hotel in the distance to the massive shift of rock beyond it, and she suddenly shuddered. “Yes, magnificent, isn’t it? Although when I was a child, it gave me the creeps.”
It was the last thing Jack would have expected her to say.
“Why?”
“No good reason,” she said, and then shrugged off the chill she’d gotten as she’d looked up toward the craggy peak. “I used to imagine that something wicked lived on the mountain.”
“And now?”
“Now I know that wickedness can be anywhere. Let’s just say I’ve learned to adjust.”
Jack knew she was referring in part to Frank Walton’s murder. It was the opportune time to throw in a few questions.
“You’re talking about your uncle’s murder, aren’t you?”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I guess I am.”
“Was he on vacation?”
She frowned. “I think so. It was all so sudden. One
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