Jane Toombs - Her Mysterious Houseguest

“Did it?”

“Come to think of it, I don’t know what happened to that fern. It never did show up after my grandparents moved to the condo in White Plains.”

“You didn’t have an outside plot to grow things in when you were a kid?”

“I remember a big tree in back of the apartment complex in the city that shed leaves all over the place in the fall. With that tiny yard, it didn’t leave room for much else.”

“Let me get what you need to read for your demonstration tomorrow. You can give them a quick run-through while I go visit Aino and, when I get back, we’ll discuss how-to.”

He grinned. “How-to?”

She shook her head at him and entered the house.

His smile faded as he gazed at the fragile-looking seedlings in the pots. How had he let himself get talked into this, anyway?

Rachel returned briefly to hand him a book and a pamphlet, then disappeared. Easing onto the bench swing suspended by hooks from the porch overhang, he sat with the books in his lap, thinking about Rachel instead of trying to read any of the material she’d given him.

She couldn’t be less like Yolanda, he told himself. She was neither self-seeking nor dishonest. No denying she was connected with this case, though. His case, not an agency one, yet still business, not pleasure. He’d vowed never to be fooled again by a woman, especially while working. But it was getting more and more difficult to resist his attraction to Rachel. Damn it, he wanted to hold her, to feel her respond to him, to make love to her.

What could possibly be the harm in a brief affair? Because it would be. Other than the fact he wouldn’t be here long, he took care to make sure not to get involved in any long-term entanglement. No strings.

He had no inclination to change his lifestyle—why should he? So far, it’d been working out just fine. The women he met were out for a good time—they had no more desire to tie themselves down than he did. No one got hurt and no regrets.

“Wait’ll you fall in love, old buddy,” Steve had once said to him. “I hope I’m around when it happens, so I can be the first to say I told you so.”

“In love? Whatever that means, it has nothing to do with me so you may just be waiting around forever.” That had been his answer then and was now.

Love wasn’t on his agenda. How could you fall in love with any woman, when there were no honest ones?

Hearing Mikel whistle at her as she sauntered toward his car on the way to dinner, Rachel smiled to herself, thinking the whistle made it worth the trouble she’d taken.

“Whoa,” he said as he opened the passenger door for her. “English teachers didn’t wear black leather pants when I was in school.”

“I’m not a teacher at the moment.”

“Care to tell me what you are?”

“Definitely not prey.”

He blinked, but she didn’t explain. Evidently deciding to leave well enough alone, he shut her door, went around to the driver’s side and slid behind the wheel, saying, “Which way?”

“Turn to the left. Metrovich’s is on the way to the Porcupines.”

“Porcupines?”

“Mountains. One of our biggest tourist attractions. I’ll drive up there with you sometime, if you like. There’s an old mine and terrific views. Aino claims the road the state put in when they made the Porcupine Mountains a park took all the fun out of climbing up to the escarpment. That was way before my time, though.”

“I’d like to see the park. How’s the skiing up there?”

“We get a lot of snow, so it’s some of the best. Eva’s really good.”

“You?”

She shrugged. “Fair. I really enjoy it, though. How about you?”

“I do okay.”

She just bet he did. It was difficult to imagine Mikel not excelling at anything physical.

“Care to explain that prey comment?” he asked.

Did this man never leave anything alone? Affecting a casual tone, she said, “Oh, nothing much. Except I suddenly decided my wardrobe was pretty drab—making me look like a little brown bird blending into the underbrush. These are actually Eva’s clothes.”

“Believe me, no man could overlook you even if you wore sackcloth and ashes.”

He spoke with such conviction, she was tempted to believe him. She certainly wanted to believe he found her attractive.

“And in that outfit—” he glanced at her “—I can see I’ll be fending off the locals all night.” Grinning, he added, “I trust duels have been outlawed in the U.P. ’cause I did fail to pack my dueling pistols.”

To his surprise, she shuddered. “I hate guns!”

Some women did, of course, but her reaction seemed unusually strong, since she must have known he was joking. Searching for a change of topic, he said, “I bought a coffeemaker today for the cottage.”

She stared at him. “You didn’t have to do that. We always keep a pot on up at the house.”

“I’m sure, but I plan to invite you into the cottage for coffee after dinner tonight and so I needed the proper equipment.”

“You really think I might accept?” Her tone had lightened.

“Hope springs eternal. I’ve also laid a fire, ready to be lit against the coolth of the evening.”

She smiled. “Coolth?”

“That’s U.P. weather,” he told her. “Everything’s different in this part of the country.” Or seemed to be, anyway, since he’d met Rachel.

When they reached Metrovich’s—and none too soon by the looks of the crowded parking lot—he anticipated with relish everyone’s reaction when they entered. If, as she said, she didn’t usually wear black leather pants and see-through blouses, there was bound to be one.

He wasn’t disappointed. As they walked past the bar on the way to the dining area, every male in the place did a double take. Mikel felt a purely masculine rush from being Rachel’s escort.

At the table, the waitress took a long look at Rachel. “Holy smoke!” she exclaimed. “What on earth did you do to yourself?”

“Borrowed Eva’s clothes,” Rachel said. “That’s all, Kelly.”

Kelly slanted a glance at Mikel. “Okay, but where’d you borrow him and have they got any more?”

“He’s one of a kind,” Rachel told her.

“Figures. I never get there first. You both gonna have the perch tonight?”

While they waited for their order, Mikel checked out the place, a habit he couldn’t break, even when he wasn’t on an agency case. He’d also chosen the only table left where his back could be to the wall. Rustic, without any attempt to be cutesy as well, Metrovich’s looked like what it was, an older, out-of-the-way eating place in the Michigan woods. A place where the local folk gathered.

“What do you think?” Rachel asked. “Acceptable to a New Yorker?”

“I always wait until the food comes to comment. That’s what counts.”

“In that case, you’ll give Metrovich’s five stars.”

At the moment, anyplace he could be with her would suit him, even a moderately noisy, definitely crowded restaurant.

The perch was as good as advertised and so was the lemon meringue pie that finished off the meal. “Okay, five stars it is,” he told her as they walked to his car. “The pie rivaled my grandmother’s, not that I’d ever tell her.”

After pulling onto the highway, he said, “In case you didn’t notice, you were the sensation of the evening.”

“Not as far as Kelly was concerned. By the way, did you notice both you and I wore black tonight?”

“Immediately. Had no idea I might have infected you with my color taste, but you can wear black for me anytime. I really—” He broke off, braking as a large black animal lumbered across the road in front of the car. “Damned if that’s not a bear!”

“We do have those,” she agreed. “Also deer, wolves and other assorted wildlife.”

“In the woods, yes. It’s just that I didn’t expect to see a bear in the middle of the road.”

“One never does—it’s always a surprise when they show up at the farm searching for windfall apples or culls left on those old trees way out in back. Poor Fitzgerald. When he was still alive, he used to hide for days after he smelled a bear anywhere around. It was like he was saying, ‘Hey, I’m a rabbit hound. I don’t do bears.’”

“So tomorrow I’m going to be convincing your Scouts to plant apple seedlings for the eventual gratification of bears.”

She laughed.

After he pulled into the farm driveway, he said, “My invitation still stands. I might add I do make a mean cup of coffee.”

Rachel knew very well she ought to decline. She’d learned early to avoid situations that might turn into wrestling matches. If the man had been anyone but Mikel she would’ve said no, but somehow she trusted him not to try to rush her into anything she didn’t want. Which was sort of scary, because she wasn’t at all sure what she did want from him. Except, of course, to know who’d sent him here. Which was reason enough to accept his invitation.

“As for me, I’m perfectly harmless,” he added as he parked the car.

How could he claim to be harmless with those green predator’s eyes? “The better to see you with, my dear,” she muttered without thinking.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

She certainly wasn’t going to admit she’d quoted the wolf’s lines from Little Red Riding Hood. “Thank you, I’d love some coffee,” she told him. “If you’ve done your homework, we can discuss tomorrow’s Scout session while we drink it.”

He opened the cottage door to usher her in. “If I think of anything I need to know, you’ll be the first I’ll ask.”

“You sound pretty confident.”

“That’s the secret to coming out ahead.”

Rachel thought about that as she seated herself in a chair near the fireplace. “Do you always come out ahead?” she asked finally.

He turned on the coffeemaker and sank down into the old chair on the opposite side of the fireplace. “Often enough to pay the bills.”

“How about in the rest of your life?”

He shrugged. “We all make mistakes. I try not to repeat mine.”

She’d just bet he usually succeeded, too. Hoping to work the conversation around to where he might reveal information she needed, Rachel said, “I’ve never actually met a private investigator before. What’s it like being one?”

He sprang to his feet. “Forgot to light the fire.” As he proceeded to do so, he spoke with his back to her. “A job is a job. If you’re good at what you do and like it, then you stay interested. I imagine that’s how you feel about teaching.”

“More or less. But teaching students is rewarding in itself.”

He rose and turned to her. “Catching bad guys can be, too.”

“I’m sure. Do you think there’s a bad guy in the case you’re on now?”

“I don’t yet have enough information to know one way or the other.” He headed for the coffeemaker. “If that red light’s any indication, the coffee’s done. While we drink it, maybe you can help by telling me what you remember about Leo.”

Rachel tensed. “You still think he was involved in the girl’s disappearance?”

“I can’t be positive one way or the other. I came here to find out.”

“But he didn’t have anyone but his wife and daughter with him when he came home to Ojibway.”

“Apparently not. Still, that really only proves Renee Reynaud wasn’t with him when he arrived here, not that he wasn’t involved in some way.” Having poured coffee into the two mugs he’d bought, he carried one to her, saying, “As I recall, you drink yours black.”