pursued, not the pursuer.
Trav’s sex drive had never been as strong as her own. He always got into it—she couldn’t fault him for that—but she had to make the first move.
“Turn me on, sexy lady. I love the way you turn me on.”
“How ’bout you turn me on for a change?” She’d sometimes say to him, only to have him respond, “Show me how.”
Trav liked things easy. His easy laughter, easy compliments, easy, laid-back nature were as much a part of him as his floppy auburn hair and eternal optimism. Trav didn’t judge or criticize. He enjoyed people for who they were. It was why so many sought his company. It was why she’d loved him. Why she’d overlooked his flaws: his unsteady employment and his casual attitude toward the necessary business of life. Someday, she’d told herself, he’d be the one to do the taxes or fix a loose chair leg instead of leaving it all up to her. Someday, she’d told herself, he would be so overcome with lust that he’d drag her into bed, strip her naked, and make love to her as if she were the most irresistible woman in the world.
But none of that would ever have happened. It wasn’t his nature.
The waters of Poorhouse Creek frothed under the bridge as she crossed. She gazed toward the place where a fallen tree had formed a miniwaterfall. Ian was a new species to her. A man—full grown and mature—who didn’t need coddling.
She reached the cabin and unlocked the back door. The curtains were drawn, exactly as she’d left them, but something was different. A pair of sneakers lay by the door. Sneakers that didn’t belong to her. She took a cautious step inside.
Kelly Winchester lay sound asleep on the couch.
She was curled into a ball, fully dressed, a quilted jacket with a designer logo abandoned on the carpet. She’d pulled the old quilt Tess had tossed over the back of the couch up to her shoulders.
Tess’s stomach churned at this violation of her privacy. And by Kelly Winchester, of all people. She thought of those small clues she’d overlooked—the tracked-in mud, the curtains she’d found open when they should have been closed. This wasn’t the first time Kelly had come here. But why?
Kelly hadn’t stirred. Tess started toward her only to stop. She thought for a moment, then backed out the same way she’d come in, making as little noise as she could. There was no sign of a car, so Kelly must have hiked up here. But why? There was nothing worth stealing, and if she’d intended to vandalize the place to get some kind of twisted revenge, she would have done it by now. Tess had so many unanswered questions.
She also had a weapon.
She’d witnessed something about the Winchesters that didn’t fit. Instead of confronting Kelly, what if she let this play out a little longer? The Winchesters were a powerful financial and political force in Tempest. Kelly’s animosity toward Tess was real, and Brad had a visible ruthless streak. They’d targeted Tess, and they held all the cards.
Except this one.
Tess now knew something that she couldn’t imagine Kelly would want to become public. It was a flimsy weapon, and it might come to nothing, but Kelly wasn’t doing any harm to the cabin, and Tess could confront her anytime she chose. Why not wait and see what unfolded?
As she hiked up the trail to return to the schoolhouse, she decided this was one more thing she wouldn’t tell Ian. At least not yet. He wasn’t a man who believed in subtlety, and he’d insist on an immediate confrontation. He could be right, but then again, he might not be.
* * *
He and Wren were both awake when she returned. He was sitting in one of the easy chairs in the living room feeding her. He’d crossed his ankle over his thigh with Wren perched on top. She must have soaked through her sleeper because she wore a fresh one. He glared at Tess. “She’s the devil incarnate.”
“True.”
Tess hadn’t imagined he’d noticed the morning bottle in the refrigerator, but apparently he had, and since it didn’t look as though he’d replaced the formula with beer, she could relax. Except for the simple fact that she couldn’t do that when he was wearing only an undershirt and jeans. An undershirt so old and worn she could see his skin through it. He hadn’t shaved, his hair was sleep rumpled, and his hand looked massive around