Just a Whisper Away Read online

  “Morning, Ida. I’m okay. Did you enjoy yourself last night?” At nearly seventy, his office manager still wore makeup, and today, pale blue eye shadow and pink lipstick picked up the colors in her polyester pantsuit.

  “Oh, my, yes,” she exclaimed. “The decorations were so bright and pretty, and the music was delightful. I’m eager to see what the food bank’s take will be.”

  “Same here. There’s a chance we could know by tonight’s meeting.” For the past five years—since he and Ty had bought the business—they’d reserved a company table for the annual charity ball. Jace usually passed on the event, but this year, it had benefited the food bank, and he was on the board. A lot of years had passed since his childhood in Jillie Rae’s trailer, but he still remembered what it was to go hungry.

  Ida continued to grin expectantly, almost as though she were waiting for an announcement. Just before she launched into another spate of happy chirping, Jace realized what it was, and cringed inside.

  “I couldn’t help noticing that your night took a better turn as you were leaving. Before that, I expected you to bolt every time someone opened a door.”

  Hoping to change the subject, he rolled his chair away to check a drawer in the filing cabinet behind him. “Ida, have you seen—?”

  “The Farr Canada paperwork? Yes, it’s right here in your Out tray.” By the time he’d shut the drawer and turned around, it was on his desk blotter. “They’ll be picking up their load on Tuesday.”

  Smiling, he wondered again why he even bothered to double-check these things. “Anything else going on that I should know about?”

  “Nope.”

  But she still refused to move a happy little muscle, and he finally decided to just get the interrogation over with. “Okay, what?”

  “I didn’t realize you knew Morgan Winslow’s daughter!”

  Paging through the work order and documentation on drying time, he grumbled, “I don’t.”

  “I see,” she bubbled gleefully. “Then you just stumbled into her last night and landed on her lips.” Ignoring the bland look he sent her, she added, “You know, I heard she married a California attorney a few years ago, but that must over now, because—”

  He sighed. “Ida, I really need to look these over.”

  “—because she’s waiting to see you.”

  Jace jerked his head up. “What?”

  “Abbie Winslow. She’s waiting in the reception area. Such a pretty thing. The coffee I brought in is for her.”

  Adrenaline prickled over every bone, muscle and hair follicle Jace owned as the image of Abbie in that backless gown filled his mind, and the unexpectedly visceral sensation of kissing her again hit him like a sledgehammer.

  Slowly, he unrolled the sleeves of his pale blue oxford cloth shirt, buttoned his cuffs and stood to grab his olive corduroy jacket from the back of his chair. There was no point in telling Ida that she should’ve told him sooner; she was the glue that held the place together, and did things in her own sweet time. Some days he and Ty felt like they worked for her. “Send her back, Ida.”

  She gave him another of her tickled-pink looks as he walked around his desk to stand beside the door. “I’ll just do that.”

  The polished pine hall beyond the door wasn’t long, but when Abbie appeared a moment later, Jace still had time for a good look. Topped by a long, snow-white knitted scarf, her knee-length black-and-gray herringbone coat hung open, and beneath it she wore black wool slacks and a pearl-gray turtleneck. Parted in the middle, her long auburn hair curved around her forehead and high cheekbones, then fell sleek and shiny on either side of her upturned collar. She looked expensive. And very beautiful.

  “Hi,” she said quietly, and Jace decided she’d come bearing white doves and an olive branch.

  “Hello, Abbie.” When she’d stepped inside, he closed that always open door.

  “The place looks good, Jace. Bigger, more organized. I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks. We’re doing all right.” Even when he’d worked here as a logger, the company had been a viable business. Now, with all the improvements and newly erected kilns, Rogan was quickly becoming one of the most respected logging and lumber companies in Northwest Pennsylvania. And, thank God, profits were good. Between Ty’s talent for finding new customers, and a cherry-, oak-and maple-hungry public, they’d never had a problem meeting their mortgage payments.

  But he’d bet their new skidder she wasn’t here to check out the place.

  “What’s on your mind?” Her dark eyes looked a little tired, and considering the night he’d spent, Jace felt a run of satisfaction.

  “You know why I’m here. That business last night was awkward.”

  “If you want an apology because I used you to get to your father, you’re not going to get one. I figure we’re even now. You used me, I used you; quid pro quo.” He returned to his desk, then nodded toward the chair and the white mug on her side of it. “Have a seat if you want. The coffee’s yours. Ida brought it in.”

  “Thank you, but I won’t be here long enough to drink it. I came to apologize for a very stupid thing I did well over a decade ago. I tried to explain then, but you wouldn’t hear me out.”

  “Abbie, it’s been way too long to get into all of this again.”

  Her soft tone nearly got to him. Nearly. “Has it? It didn’t seem that way last night. It’s time we put this thing behind us.”

  Jace felt his nerves knot. He thought he had put it behind him. Then he’d seen her father’s smugly approving smile as she’d danced with an acceptable suitor, and his old outcast status had risen up and grabbed him where he lived.

  “Whatever. I don’t feel the need to go into it, but if you have something to say, the floor’s yours.”

  Frustration lined her face for a second, then she let it go and moistened her lips. “You know what a control freak my dad’s been since my mother died.”

  He nodded, thinking that was putting it mildly.

  “I needed some space from that. I know raising a daughter alone had to have been an enormous responsibility. But I was just so tired of being told what to think, what to say and who I could and couldn’t see that I had to make it clear to him that I was an adult now—and I was going to live my life in my own way.”

  “So you decided to bed me in your gazebo and wait for your dad to come home.”

  “No! Maybe I did coax you back to the house so he’d find us together. But not consciously, and not in the scheming, conniving way you think. I cared about you, Jace. I wouldn’t have slept with you just to spite my father. In fact, once we started making lo—” She halted before she finished the word. “Well,” she said, dropping her voice, “my father was the furthest thing from my mind.” She glanced down at the black leather gloves she held, then met his eyes again. “And, if you’ll recall, I only suggested that we take a swim.”

  Yes, that’s what she’d said that night. She’d said there were spare swim trunks in the cabana—that he didn’t even have to go home to get his. Then she’d given him the tour of the picnic grotto and gazebo behind the Winslow’s fancy estate, and they’d never made it to the pool.

  His intercom buzzed. Holding her gaze, Jace depressed the button. “Yes, Ida?”

  “I wouldn’t have disturbed the two of you for the world, honey, but there’s a lawyer on the phone.”

  “Our attorney?”

  “No, one of those personal injury lawyers. It’s about the accident.”

  Jace swore softly. “Get his number and tell him I’ll call him back.”

  Abbie watched him break the connection, then briefly massage the tension over his eyes. “Trouble?”

  “Maybe. One of our men was hurt yesterday, and it looks like he’ll be laid up for a few months. The thing is, we’re friends. It’s not like him to latch on to an ambulance chaser.”

  Abbie let the reference slide. By now, she was used to snide remarks and lawyer jokes. “If you’re covering his medical expenses, and the equi
pment he was using wasn’t faulty, you probably don’t have much to worry ab—” She stopped herself. “Sorry, occupational hazard. You have your own attorney. It’s not my place to comment.”

  “That’s right,” he said glibly, “it isn’t. God knows I wouldn’t want you to do anything unethical.” But despite his words, the implication was that she had. Fourteen years ago. And to her chagrin, it hurt.

  Abbie drew a breath and let it out silently. All right, she’d tried. Now it was time to go. He still believed she’d orchestrated that awful night, but with all the turmoil in her life now, she had to take her own advice and let it go, no matter how much she wanted to resolve this. She just didn’t have the energy to fight wars on two emotional fronts.

  Clearing her throat, she buttoned her coat and pulled on her gloves. “Know what?” she murmured. “I should have my head examined for coming here. Lately, everything I do with the greater good in mind backfires badly. Goodbye, Jace.”

  Jace watched her open the door and walk to the front of the building. Then the illogical urge to follow her pushed him out of his chair. He still didn’t believe her story, but he could’ve treated her better.

  Ida buzzed him again as he rounded his desk. He jabbed the intercom button.

  “It’s that lawyer again, Jace. He wants the name of the company’s attorney. He said he doesn’t have time to sit on his hands waiting.”

  “Tell him I’ll call him back in ten minutes,” he returned impatiently. “If he gets nasty, hang up on him, and if he phones again, don’t pick up. Check the caller ID before you answer.” Then he strode out to the reception area, and stood at one of their new plate-glass windows.

  Outside, two six-foot-high, carved-wood grizzlies flanked the door. The wind gusted around them, picking up clouds of snow and nearly obscuring the mammoth steel buildings housing the kilns and sawmill. Then taillights flashed red in the grainy mist and Jace knew he’d missed her.

  Swearing under his breath, he retraced his steps, picking up curious looks from their staff forester and a couple of guys from the mill.

  “Ida,” he said, approaching her desk, “get our new friend on the phone for me, please. Then track down Ty. If he’s not at his place, he’s probably with the girl from last night.”

  “Ginger.”

  “Yeah, her,” he said, annoyed with Ty’s cavalier lifestyle and wondering why his equipment hadn’t fallen off yet. “I know this is his late day, but tell him I need him now. Playtime’s over.”

  You’re just ticked off because it’s been six months since you got laid.

  Probably, he decided, entering the rear office and dropping into his chair. But that wasn’t the reason for the clutching in his gut this morning. Then his gaze settled on that mug full of coffee, Abbie’s big doe eyes and full mouth came to mind…and he had to admit that maybe it was. He’d been a total ass, but she and her father had damn near eviscerated him that night and the pain had lasted a very long time.

  Ida buzzed him. “Mr. Cleaver’s on the line.”

  Cleaver. How appropriate. “Thanks,” he said, then picked up the phone and tried to be civil. “Mr. Cleaver. What can we do for you?”

  An hour later, with Ty overseeing things, Jace tore out of the lot and headed for their lawyer’s office. They needed to nip this thing in the bud. He doubted Cleaver could make a suit stick because there was no way Jace could see that the company had been negligent. But the price Cleaver had named for an out-of-court settlement was robbery, and he had to know for sure. Damn lawyers.

  More to the point, damn lawyer, because he couldn’t get Abbie out of his mind. Worse, every time he thought of her—disturbing as it was to admit—memories rose, his blood heated and he felt that old gut-gnawing pull again.

  That night, still disturbed over her morning meeting with Jace, Abbie locked her dad’s SUV and strode quickly across the windy lot to the fire hall. After hearing Miriam mention that help was needed with the town’s annual Friends Without Families Easter dinner, Abbie had decided to attend tonight’s meeting and offer her services. She’d be back in L.A. before Easter, but she’d worked the event when she was in high school and looked forward to doing whatever she could while she was here.

  She tucked her chin deep into her collar. Situated near the river on the town’s outskirts, it was a low, sprawling red-brick building, recently erected after a long fund-raising drive. According to Miriam, it was paying for itself nicely with rentals from weddings and other community events. Coming inside, Abbie wiped her boots on the mat, got her bearings in the reduced lighting, then headed for the room at the end of the corridor and the low hum of voices.

  The cell phone in her shoulder bag rang. Taking it from the side flap, she frowned at the Number Unavailable message in the ID window, flipped it open and said hello.

  A chillingly familiar voice stroked her ear, and the bottom fell out of her stomach.

  “I just came from your place, counselor, but you weren’t home.” Danny Long’s laughter raised gooseflesh the entire length of her. “Where are you?”

  Abbie dropped the phone and it clattered and skittered over the tile floor. Quickly retrieving it, she stabbed the End button to break the connection, then stabbed it again to shut it off permanently.

  For a moment she couldn’t do anything but shake. Then, spotting a haven of sorts a few yards away, she hurried into the ladies’ room, locked the door and wilted against it.

  She should have changed her cell number! Why hadn’t she thought of that? She rarely gave the number to clients, but Danny had been—no, had seemed—so fragile and ruined over Maryanne’s death, she’d made an exception in his case. In doing that, she’d given him a pipeline directly to her.

  But not for long.

  Trembling, she turned her cell back on, then speed-dialed Stuart, knowing he’d still be at the office.

  “I just heard from him,” she said when he answered. “He called my cell phone. Stuart, he said he was at my apartment today. Is that possible? Could he—” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Could he have done something in there?” She lived in a secure building, but Danny was a manipulative charmer, and he was capable of fooling people. He’d certainly fooled her.

  “Anything’s possible,” the elderly attorney returned, his agitation evident. “But I suspect he was lying. Did he threaten you in any way?”

  “No.” And that meant there was no crime. Stalking was a difficult charge to prove. She’d given Danny her number willingly, which gave him the right to use it, and there was no law against a former client calling to say hello.

  Stuart spoke again. “I’ll have security check your apartment and get back to you. In the meantime, you need to change your cell phone number.”

  “I’ll do it first thing in the morning.”

  “Good.” He paused then, his voice lowering in grandfatherly concern. “Abbie, are you all right?”

  “Yes. Yes,” she repeated through a breath. “I’m fine. At least, I will be in a minute.” Then again, how fine could she be when she was hiding out in a restroom? “But now that I’m thinking more clearly, I feel like a fool for bothering you with this. I’ll call building security myself.”

  “As you wish,” he said gently. “But it would’ve been no trouble. I want to help in any way I can.”

  “I know,” she murmured, “and that means more to me than I can say.” She inhaled deeply. “Stuart, I need to make that call now.”

  “Call me back.”

  “I will.”

  Minutes later, after she’d learned that Danny had lied about going to her apartment, they’d spoken again. Stuart had made a phone call, too, bringing the detectives up to speed, though they’d said there was little they could do. Then Stuart had pressed her again to put the whole thing out of her mind and do something that would make her smile.

  Smiling was a stretch, she decided. Especially when seven pairs of eyes turned from the table when she entered the meeting room—but only six of them were welcoming
.

  She nearly walked back out.

  Ida Fannin rocketed out of her seat and rushed to greet her. “Abbie, what a lovely surprise! How nice of you to join us! Give me your coat, then help yourself to the coffee and donuts. Sorry, but they’re all glazed. I don’t like making food decisions when I’m in a hurry.”

  Feeling a bit glazed herself, Abbie slipped off her coat and Ida wrestled it from her hands. Could this night get any worse? “Ida, I’m afraid I’m late. Maybe I should—”

  “Go? Goodness, no. We’re just trying to decide who’s going to handle publicity for the event. Everyone,” she called out, crossing to the coatrack, “this lovely young woman is Morgan Winslow’s daughter, Abbie. A few of you might remember her. She lives and works in Los Angeles now, but she’s come home for her daddy’s wedding.”

  Then she made the introductions, and before Abbie could draw more than a half dozen breaths, Ida had her in a seat across from Jace.

  Her frazzled nerves frayed a little more. Few men could look darkly dangerous, sexy and utterly delicious all at the same time. But as Abbie took in his thick, collar-skimming black hair, compelling gaze and the grim curve of his mouth, she had to admit that Jace pulled it off without breaking a sweat. Then again, in her mind, he always had. Tonight he wore an open-throated black polo shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and drew her gaze to the muscular arms that had held her last night.

  “Hello, again,” he said politely, then pushed to his feet. He scanned her jeans and hip-length burgundy sweater. “How did you hear about us?”

  “My dad’s fiancée. Miriam knows I like to be busy, and she thought volunteering would give me something to do while I was in town.”

  His mouth twisted with irony, and his dark brows lifted. “Imagine that.”