Secrets in the Stone Read online

  Noticing the blinking light on her answering machine, she went to clear the message she hadn’t answered earlier. By now, whoever had called would have called back and reached her grandfather. Everyone in town knew he played bridge on Friday nights. With her finger poised over the first button in the row beneath the display, she looked out the kitchen window to be sure his red Chevy pick-up was parked behind the house where she’d grown up. She could make out the shape of the truck through the sheet of snow that had gotten heavier since Emma left. Several inches already covered the hood. The house was dark. He’d probably been in bed for hours. She hesitated with her finger over the first button, then pressed the middle button instead. She opened the refrigerator while she finished her beer, expecting to hear someone from the funeral home letting her grandfather know they needed to schedule an internment.

  “Hi,” a woman said. “This is Adrian Oakes, Elizabeth Winchester’s granddaughter.”

  For just a second, Rooke thought she was listening to one of the narrators of an audio book. The caller’s voice was so full timbred and vibrant, the air around Rooke practically shimmered with energy. Intent on hearing more, she closed the refrigerator and bent over the machine.

  “I’m at the Winchester farm, and I’ve got a problem. A tree came down and there’s a hole in the roof, I think. I was given your name as a possible contractor. Could someone call me as soon as possible?”

  Rooke didn’t recognize the woman who was calling, but she knew the Winchester place. She also knew that the woman probably had not called back, likely assuming she’d reached a business answering machine and that no one would be available to get the message until at least the morning, if not after the weekend. Which meant that Rooke had left her with no help in the middle of a raging storm while she finished making love to Emma.

  One thing her grandfather had drilled into her from the time she was small was the importance of responsibility. When she took a job, she finished it. When she gave her word, she kept it. If she made a mistake, she admitted it. And she’d made a mistake tonight.

  She grabbed her brown leather bomber jacket and the keys to her grandfather’s truck. Her grandfather had also taught her that when she made a mistake, she needed to fix it.

  Chapter Three

  Thunder roared and Adrian rolled over in bed, burrowing a little deeper into the pillows, clinging to her dream. A darkened train car sped through the night, while in the shadows, a woman whose face she couldn’t see held her from behind. Warm breath whispered dark and dangerous promises in her ear as fingers skimmed over her breasts and belly, setting her skin ablaze. Rivulets of rain streamed down the window, and the world outside the streaking train dissolved in flaming towers that flickered and danced against an obsidian sky. Touch me, she screamed, pressing her hips into the curve of the body behind her, urging the hands lower, desperate to be taken. To be claimed. She burned, her blood so hot her tears seeped crimson down her cheeks. Devour me, her seething body begged.

  Do you freely give what I would take, the hypnotic voice crooned.

  Thunder broke again, and deep in the primal recesses of her brain, a warning sounded. Adrian fought the urge to surrender, to submit, to relinquish control to the faceless seductress.

  Say yes, and I will give you more pleasure than you have ever dreamed.

  Adrian writhed, orgasm clawing from her depths, rending muscle from bone, raging toward climax and final immolation.

  Say yes.

  “No,” Adrian cried, wrenching herself from the dream. Throwing the covers aside, she jerked upright in bed. Her clammy T-shirt clung to her swollen breasts. The brush of damp cotton against her nipples made her stomach quiver with want. Her panties were drenched with her arousal. When she reflexively pressed her fingers between her legs, her clitoris surged and she nearly came. She yanked her hand away. “Jesus!”

  Disoriented, she stared wildly around the room, half expecting to find she wasn’t alone. She’d never had a dream so intense, so erotic, so consuming. She’d never had a real-life physical experience so intense. Even now she ached for release and could barely resist the urge to caress herself. She gripped the sheets tightly while another voice whispered of danger and menace. Be careful, she is not what she seems. The deep, husky tones were so real, so familiar, Adrian struggled to bring a face into focus. But she couldn’t.

  Knowing sleep was unlikely, and half afraid she’d fall back into the erotic spell if she did sleep while she was still so aroused, she switched on the bedside lamp and grabbed her sweatpants from a nearby chair. She stopped in the midst of pulling on her socks.

  The thunder in her dream was someone pounding on the front door. Who could possibly be at the front door at two in the morning? She stepped into her shoes and took a quick look out the window. Snow still fell heavily. Grabbing her cell phone, she started downstairs. Before she entered the foyer, she punched in 911 and held her thumb over the send button. Then she flicked on the porch light and twitched aside the lace curtain covering the window next to the door. A man stood on the porch, his face obscured by a baseball cap, his hands bunched in the pockets of a leather jacket. A half inch of snow covered his shoulders and from what she could see, his jeans were caked with snow almost to his knees. Maybe he was a stranded motorist. She wasn’t ordinarily paranoid or even particularly suspicious, but she was still rattled by the dream and acutely aware of the fact that there was no one around for miles.

  “Who are you?” she shouted, wondering if she could be heard above the howling storm outside. The front door was chained, but she doubted it would withstand a hearty kick.

  “I…out…oof!”

  “What?”

  The man moved closer to the window and Adrian got the impression of dark eyes blazing in a pale, starkly handsome face. He stared at her, his gaze so hot she wouldn’t be surprised if her face blistered.

  “Roof?” He pointed upward. His hand was bare despite the sub-freezing temperatures.

  “You’re joking.” Adrian tucked her phone into the pocket of her sweatpants and opened the door as wide as the chain would allow. “Are you crazy?”

  “You want your roof fixed or not?” an angry voice replied.

  “It’s the middle of the night!”

  “Fine.”

  Adrian stared, speechless, as he spun around, stomped across the porch, and disappeared into the storm.

  *

  Are you crazy?

  The accusation echoed in Rooke’s mind as she plowed her way through the knee-deep drifts toward the far end of the driveway where she’d left her grandfather’s truck. She’d heard it before.

  Hey, you. What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy, or just stupid?

  She wasn’t a child anymore and hadn’t thought words could still have the power to hurt her. She’d been wrong. The fair-haired woman in the doorway had regarded her with a mixture of astonishment and suspicion, her pale eyes wide and her eyebrows drawn down in disdain. The dismissal had stung, maybe precisely because she wasn’t a child anymore. There was a reason she preferred to spend her time alone, with her work and her own company. She wouldn’t forget that again.

  The wind was so strong, Rooke had to brace her arm against the truck cab to pry the door open. She finally managed to climb into the front seat and yanked the door shut against the brutal wind. Snow swirled through the cab, having made its way inside in the few seconds that she’d had the door open. She jammed the key into the ignition, started the engine, and whipped the gear stick into reverse. After hitting the headlights, she swung her head around to look out the back window and just as quickly jerked to face front again.

  “What the hell?”

  She switched off the engine and pocketed the keys, jumped out into the storm, and slogged toward the woman she’d seen illuminated in her headlights.

  “What are you doing?” Rooke shouted.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” the woman shouted back. “Come back to the house.”

  “You’
ll freeze out here with no coat.”

  “Well then,” the woman yelled, her words almost swallowed by the eddies of snow and wind, “I guess we should stop talking and get inside.”

  Rooke hesitated, realizing her showing up in the middle of the night probably would seem strange to an ordinary person. She hadn’t really thought about the lateness of the hour when she’d left her apartment. She never paid much attention to the time because she slept and worked on her own schedule. Sometimes she’d work around the clock if she was inspired or if she unexpectedly had a number of work orders to finish. There was no one to complain if she didn’t come to bed at a certain hour or show up for work on any kind of timetable. She always got the job done, and that’s all that usually mattered. Now she felt awkward with this woman she didn’t know, who already thought very little of her.

  Rooke grasped the woman’s arm to get her attention. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  “It already is tomorrow!” Adrian stared at the hand on her bare arm as a panoply of powerful emotion cut through the cold and wind. Anger, pride, sorrow. She didn’t have time to ponder again why her usual barriers had evaporated, leaving her body an open channel to anyone she touched. They really had to get out of the storm. “Besides, if you go driving around in this kind of weather you’re likely to get in an accident, and I’m not going to be responsible for it.”

  “You’re not responsible for me,” Rooke exclaimed.

  To Rooke’s surprise, the woman gripped her coat with startling strength and tugged her forward. Despite her misgivings, she followed in the footprints that were obscured by drifting snow almost as quickly as they appeared. When they reached the porch, the woman turned with an impatient wave of her hand.

  “Look, this is getting more ridiculous by the minute. Come inside, for God’s sake.”

  Rooke had little choice but to obey. Once inside, she stopped in the foyer, dripping water on an expensive-looking rug and taking stock of the woman in a faded T-shirt and baggy sweatpants who faced her, hands on her hips and irritation flashing in her eyes. Her eyes, which had appeared pale through the snow, were actually crystal blue, in striking contrast to the sunstruck hair that fell just to her shoulders. The damp, curly tresses shimmered with droplets of melting snowflakes and framed a face that might have been carved by an artist far more talented than Rooke. Intrigued, Rooke studied the sweeping cheekbones, tapered jaw, and the bold, high nose that saved the exasperated stranger from being merely pretty. Instead, she was beautiful.

  “I’m Adrian Oakes.” The words came out sounding harsher than Adrian had intended. But she was uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of yet another unfamiliar woman and unnerved by both her dream and the unexpected appearance in the middle of the night of a stranger she now realized was not a man, but a woman. “Who exactly are you?”

  “Rooke Tyler.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “You called me.”

  Adrian shook her head. “I did not.”

  “You know what? You’re right. You’re obviously always right. Good luck with your roof.” Rooke spun around and reached for the door.

  “Are you always this rude?”

  Rooke stiffened. “Not usually.” She didn’t add, I make it a habit to avoid annoying, judgmental people, even though she thought it.

  “Where are you going?” Adrian asked.

  Rooke pulled open the door.

  “Somewhere warmer.”

  Adrian took a deep breath, wondering how her entire night had gone to hell while she wasn’t paying attention. “Wait. Please. It really is too bad out there for you to travel.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Without turning around, Rooke said, “Did you check to make sure you’ve got enough oil and firewood? This storm isn’t going to blow out for a couple more days. It’s going to get a lot colder.”

  “I can’t use the fireplace,” Adrian said to Rooke’s back. “Would you close the door? What little heat I have is on its way out.”

  Rooke came back into the foyer, closing the door behind her. “No firewood?”

  “No chimney.” Adrian sighed. “That’s one of the reasons I called Mr. Tyler. Ronald Tyler?”

  “My grandfather.” Rooke removed her cap and brushed a hand through her hair, sprinkling water in a halo around her head.

  “Ah.” For a second, Adrian was at a loss for what else to say. For most of their conversation she’d been looking at Rooke through the window, or the blur of snow, or while she had her back turned. Now that Rooke was standing still with her face exposed, Adrian saw the faint but obvious scar that ran from her right temple across her forehead into her hairline. The thin line was pale, so the injury had been a long time ago, but it bothered Adrian nevertheless to think about how serious the damage must have been. The scar didn’t detract in the least from her initial impression. Rooke was indeed handsome, with eyes so deep brown they were almost black and carelessly cut midnight hair. The thick, shaggy hair framing her square-jawed, strong countenance made her appear charmingly roguish. Or she would have appeared charming, if her eyes weren’t so still and cool. Adrian sensed the kind of wary appraisal in Rooke’s unwavering gaze that she’d often seen in caged animals, or prisoners. This was not a woman who trusted others easily.

  “Maybe we should start over,” Adrian said.

  “I think maybe you should start over with my grandfather on Monday.” Rooke resettled her cap. “I’ll wait while you check your oil supply. If it’s low, I’ll drive you to the hotel in town. You should probably stay there anyhow.”

  Adrian’s temper flared. What was it about her that made people think they knew what was best for her? “Excuse me. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

  “You can’t stay here without heat.”

  Adrian resisted the urge to tell Rooke to mind her own business. Rationally, she knew Rooke was just trying to be helpful, but she’d just spent weeks with her family listening to first her mother and then her siblings tell her exactly how she should rearrange her life. It was enough to make her get on a plane to anywhere. Immediately. “I have heat and if I have any problem at all, I have transportation.”

  “I wouldn’t trust that Jeep to make it a mile on these roads,” Rooke said.

  Adrian jammed her hands back on her hips. “How do you know… Oh, never mind. I forgot that everyone in a town this size knows everything about everyone.”

  “Not everyone. Not everything,” Rooke muttered. “I’ve seen that Jeep. It’s a good twenty years old and I’ll bet the battery’s dead even if the tires aren’t flat. Look, let me just get the firewood. The rest is up to you.”

  “Well, thank you very much.” Adrian stepped forward quickly and grasped Rooke’s arm. “And you’re not going out there in this snow. You wouldn’t be able to see anything anyhow. I’m freezing, and you’re soaking wet. Come in the kitchen. I’ll make us something warm to drink.”

  Rooke hesitated, torn between wanting out of the uncomfortable situation and a reluctant concern for Adrian. She longed to be back in her quiet, private space where no one bothered her, no one judged her, and no one assumed to know her. Unfortunately, she could tell just from the brief walk back to the truck that the storm was escalating. She wasn’t worried about driving, but she was worried about leaving Adrian Oakes here alone. If she lost power or heat and the Jeep didn’t start, she could be in trouble. What she needed to do was take a look around and make sure Adrian would be okay for the weekend. Then she’d get the hell out of there and leave her to her own devices, which was apparently exactly the way Adrian Oakes wanted it.

  “What’s wrong with your fireplace?” Rooke asked, bending over to unlace her workboots. Adrian had probably just forgotten to open the flue, but she wasn’t going to say so and invite another barrage of ill temper.

  “You can leave those on.”

  “I’ll track water all over the floor.”

  “Your feet will freeze. Where are your socks?”

  Rooke didn’t bo
ther to explain she’d been on her way to bed when she’d listened to the message and gotten the harebrained idea to rush over here. She just jammed her foot back in her boot. When she glanced at Adrian, she realized for the first time that Adrian had ventured out into the snow without boots. Her shoes had to be soaked. “You need to get warmed up yourself. Go stand in front of the fireplace. I’ll get it started.”

  “I’d love that, but the chimney is lying in the driveway by the side of the house.”

  Frowning, Rooke straightened. “What?”

  “The tree out front,” Adrian said with a sigh. “The one that’s blocking your truck. It knocked the chimney down. That’s what put the hole in the roof too.”

  “Well, that’s a problem.”

  “Yes, I thought so too.” Adrian pulled her wet shoes off and placed them on the tray next to the coat closet tucked under the stairs. Her thick wool socks were damp, but her feet were fairly dry. “Take your jacket off. It’s warmer in the kitchen.”

  “I’d better have a look at the chimney.” Rooke removed her jacket but kept it in her hand. She might need to go outside again soon to assess the damage.

  “Are you a carpenter as well as a roofer?”

  Rooke frowned. “I’m not either one.”

  “Then I’m confused. What are you doing here?”

  “You called us, remember?” Rooke repeated.

  “About the roof.”

  “That’s why I came out. I’ll take a look up in the attic and see what kind of leak problem there is.”