Secrets in the Stone (15 page)

Adrian climbed into the passenger seat. “You’re driving on them.”

“I’m used to it.”

Any other morning, Adrian would have argued, or at least have pointed out that she was completely as capable as Rooke Tyler at managing a vehicle in the snow, but she was exhausted and shaken and she didn’t have the energy for verbal combat. More than that, Rooke’s concern warmed her. Rooke turned onto River Road heading away from the direction Adrian took into town, and she rubbed condensation from the window and looked out, almost too weary to keep her eyes open. The snow had tapered off to occasional flurries, but the sun remained hidden behind sheets of slate gray clouds that portended more snow before long. The river was only yards away and completely frozen, huge chunks of ice stacked like dominoes or giant, jagged teeth across the surface. For just an instant, the image of a vehicle half submerged beneath the frozen floes flashed through her mind and she shuddered.

Adrian turned her back to the river, finding it much more soothing to watch Rooke instead. She drove with both hands lightly clasping the wheel, relaxed in the seat, her blue jean–clad legs slightly spread. Her face was intent, but not strained. She looked comfortable and confident. Solid. Strong.

Rooke glanced over and caught Adrian staring. “Is the house too cold?”

“What?”

“You look really tired. I thought maybe that was why.”

Adrian laughed self-consciously. “Hasn’t anyone ever warned you never to tell a woman she doesn’t look good?”

Rooke colored. She had no idea how to talk to a woman. Or how not to. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know much about that.”

“Rooke,” Adrian said softly, instantly sorry for her remark. She’d meant it to cover her own embarrassment and could see that she had embarrassed Rooke instead. On impulse, she leaned across the seat and grasped Rooke’s forearm. “I was teasing.”

“Oh.”

Adrian had the insane urge to slide all the way over until her body rested against Rooke’s. She wanted to tell her how good it felt to be with her. She contented herself with skimming her fingers over the top of Rooke’s hand. The brief contact made her feel more centered than she had since she’d gone to bed in physical and emotional turmoil the night before. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Yes,” Rooke said, bracing herself for something she feared she wouldn’t be able to answer. Or if she did, Adrian would be done with her.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Rooke jerked in surprise and answered automatically. “No.” Then she remembered Emma. She wanted to be honest. “I’ve never…” She took a breath and started again. “I have a friend I care about. She cares about me too. But we’re not…like that.”

“Okay. I think I understand.” Adrian concluded Rooke was either in a relationship that wasn’t sexual or was in a sexual relationship that wasn’t serious. She wasn’t sure which she preferred, but she was glad Rooke seemed to have no significant ties.

“I don’t know very much about women, I guess,” Rooke muttered.

Sensing Rooke’s discomfort and wanting to lighten the mood, Adrian tapped Rooke’s thigh lightly. “Lesson number one. Never tell a woman she looks tired, because what that really means is she looks haggard and unattractive.”

“That’s not true,” Rooke said, her brows drawing down. “You look tired but you’re still beautiful.”

Adrian’s heart jumped into her throat. She’d been told she was beautiful before. Men had told her she was too beautiful to be with other women when she had rejected their advances. Melinda had told her she was beautiful while trying to seduce her, and other women had told her she was beautiful while making love to her. She had never in her life been told she was beautiful with such simple and honest sincerity. This was the first time she’d believed it might be true.

“My mistake,” Adrian whispered. “You aren’t in need of any lessons at all.”

Rooke smiled. “No?”

“Most definitely no.”

Rooke turned into the driveway at Stillwater and pulled to a stop behind the house. She turned off the engine and shifted to face Adrian. “Did something happen to you last night?”

Adrian caught her lower lip between her teeth. What could she say?
A woman I don’t want to go to bed with got me so aroused I had an erotic dream and came in my sleep? If I’m going to come dreaming about anyone, I want it to be you?
Oh, that would be a conversation stopper. She settled for partial truth. “Bad dreams. And I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“I know how that is.”

“You were up pretty early yourself,” Adrian said.

“You probably think this is crazy, but I was worried about you.”

The air in the truck suddenly seemed terribly still and warm. With another woman, Adrian would have politely but firmly told her there was no need to worry—she could take care of herself. A few days ago, she would have said the same thing to Rooke. Right now, all she wanted was to bury her hands in Rooke’s hair and kiss her. She wanted that long, tight body on top of her. She wanted those strong, sure hands on her breasts, on her thighs, inside her. She wanted, with the same wild urgency she had wanted the night before when a stranger had crouched above her, delving inside her, driving her beyond sanity. But today, the wanting was by her choice. And that was enough.

“I don’t think it’s crazy,” Adrian whispered.

“I’m glad.”

Adrian nodded toward the house. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah. I’d better get to it.”

Adrian followed Rooke up the narrow path to the back door of a gorgeous stone house that emanated the same enduring strength she sensed from Rooke. She wondered if a Tyler had built that house two hundred and fifty years before.

“You live here with your grandfather?” Adrian asked as Rooke held the door open for her and she walked into the kitchen. She handed Rooke her jacket.

“No. Over the shop out back.” Rooke took both their jackets into the adjoining room and when she returned, she gestured to the table. “Have a seat. Do you want some tea while I cook?”

“What are you having?”

Rooke hefted a coffeepot.

“Coffee is fine,” Adrian said with a smile. “I drink it all the time when I’m on assignment.”

“No,” Rooke said. “I promised you tea.”

“That would be great, then. Thank you.” Adrian settled into a chair at the table. “Can I help?”

“No. I’ve got it. Thanks.” Rooke put a pot of water on to boil and pulled a coffee can from the refrigerator.

Adrian watched her work. Mostly, she watched her move. Her white cotton shirt stretched across her shoulders as she took food from the refrigerator and dishes from the cabinets. Her stonewashed denim jeans molded to her butt and thighs as she bent down to pull a frying pan from the drawer in the bottom of the cast-iron stove. Adrian’s mouth went suddenly dry as she pictured herself running her hands over those taut muscles. Just as her musings were leading her into definitely dangerous territory, she heard footsteps and a vigorous-looking man about her grandmother’s age halted in the doorway of the adjoining room. He regarded her with a pensive expression.

“Hello,” Adrian said, shooting to her feet to cover her embarrassment at having been caught while she was cruising Rooke’s backside.

Rooke looked over her shoulder in the man’s direction. “Hi, Pops. This is Adrian.”

Adrian held out her hand and the man took it. His hand was warm and dry. He had calluses in some of the same places as Rooke. “Adrian Oakes. I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“Ron Tyler.” He released Adrian’s hand and went to the counter, picked up a coffee mug, and filled it. Then he sat down opposite her at the table.

Not knowing what else to do, Adrian sat back down. Thankfully, Rooke brought her a cup of tea at that moment so she could occupy herself with it. She fiddled with the teabag. She wasn’t often speechless in new situations and she didn’t usually concern herself with what kind of first impression she made. Chiding herself, she forced herself to sit back in her chair and meet Ronald Tyler’s gaze. She saw pieces of Rooke in the bold arch of his cheekbones and the square set of his jaw. His eyes, however, were not the deep dark brown of hers, but blue.

“You’re Elizabeth Winchester’s granddaughter,” Rooke’s grandfather said.

“Yes.”

“You look a little bit like her.”

“Rooke looks quite a lot like you.”

He smiled and sipped his coffee. “Things okay at the house?”

“Rooke’s got them under control.” Adrian glanced at Rooke, who was dishing eggs and sausage onto plates, and smiled. “She’s very thorough.”

“She should be. That’s her job.”

Rooke set the food on the table, brought an extra chair from the dining room, and sat down. She gave Adrian a worried look. “Is the tea okay?”

“The tea is perfect. And breakfast looks great.” Adrian touched Rooke’s bare forearm. “It’s exactly what I needed.”

Rooke’s smile blazed at the same instant as light burst in Adrian’s vision, as if the sun had suddenly leaped above the horizon and turned night into day in a fraction of a second. Arms wrapped around her middle from behind and she leaned back against a strong chest, secure in the knowledge that she would not fall. Warm lips moved over the curve of her neck and she tilted her head back, content to let the pleasure enfold her.

“Good,” Rooke said.

Adrian blinked and felt her face go hot. She almost didn’t dare to look across the table at Rooke’s grandfather, but she forced herself to do it. He seemed engrossed in his breakfast. Thank goodness she hadn’t made a sound, because in her mind, she had moaned from absolute bliss.

“So I gather Rooke has told you about the damage to the house,” Adrian said, searching for a safe topic of conversation. She edged her chair a little farther away from Rooke so their thighs wouldn’t touch, not wanting a repeat of her last little loss of control.

“Yup. Rooke give you the estimate to discuss with your grandmother?”

“Not yet.”

Rooke pushed her plate aside and reached into her back pocket. She handed Adrian a folded square of white paper. “I was going to give this to you later.”

“Thanks,” Adrian said.

“Well, I think I’ll have a look at the trees. Make sure we don’t have any branches down.” Rooke’s grandfather rose and donned a dark green canvas jacket and matching hat that he lifted from pegs on the far side of the door. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Oakes.”

“You too, Mr. Tyler,” Adrian said as he disappeared out the back door. She sighed inwardly with relief. That seemed to go all right. She glanced at Rooke, who was drinking her coffee and watching her. “He didn’t even seem surprised to find a stranger in his kitchen at a godawful early hour of the morning. Do you often bring home strays?”

“I’ve never brought anyone home before.”

“Oh, I just assumed you grew up here. I don’t know why.”

“I did. I just got the place out back five years ago.”

“Then how…” Adrian realized she was prying. But how could Rooke have never brought anyone home? She must’ve misunderstood. Trying to cover her confusion, she unfolded the paper Rooke had given her and spread it out on the table between them. “So. Anything special here I need to know when I discuss this with my grandmother?”

Rooke pushed back in her chair as if Adrian had dropped a snake between them. “The total is $15,800.”

“I see that. I was just wondering…”

Adrian frowned when Rooke stood abruptly and walked into the other room. She waited a moment and, when Rooke didn’t return, followed her. Rooke stood with her back to her, bent over a large table in the middle of the room, her arms braced on it, her head lowered. “What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you? I’m not doubting your figures. I just wanted to be sure I understood everything. You don’t need to review it with me. I’m sorry…”

“Stop.” Rooke turned, the expression on her face one Adrian had never seen there before. She looked resigned, almost defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong at all. It’s me, okay?”

“I don’t understand,” Adrian said quietly.

“I can’t read it.”

Adrian looked down at the paper in her hands, then back at Rooke. “What part can’t you read?”

“Any of it.” Rooke picked up their jackets and handed Adrian hers. “I can’t read anything at all. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Reflexively, Adrian reached for her jacket, a thousand jumbled thoughts careening through her mind. This wasn’t a third-world country. This wasn’t some isolated pocket of rural Appalachia. How was it possible that in a community like this a child did not learn to read? And why had Rooke, as an adult, not taken steps to change that? She thought of her grandmother’s veiled comment about Rooke.
She’s slow.
But Adrian knew that wasn’t true. Rooke was far too perceptive, far too sensitive, too bright to be impaired in that way. But what then? Why…

The back door slammed and Adrian was left alone with her questions.

Adrian found Rooke leaning against the front of her truck, her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket, her face turned away from the house. Away from Adrian. Although her pose looked relaxed from a distance, the set of her shoulders and the tight line of her jaw said otherwise.