Victoria Dahl – Flirting with Disaster (страница 5)

Forty-five minutes later, she twisted up her damp hair, shrugged on a thick coat and grabbed two bottles of wine. One for her and one for Jill. Tonight, Isabelle wasn’t sharing.

It was almost full dark by the time she set off, but she wasn’t worried. On the off chance that a murderer was actually hanging around, his interest wasn’t in Isabelle. The Stevenson family hated cops and judges, and a solitary woman with no family or connections wouldn’t make very good leverage if he decided to take hostages.

She trudged through the snow toward the bright glow of Jill’s house, not bothering to head for the road. The snow was deep here, but it was a straight shot, and she liked the lost feeling of wandering through the trees. The moon kept her company the whole way.

“I brought dinner,” she called, holding up the bottles as Jill opened the door.

“Oh, and here I bothered making a pork roast.”

“We can have that, too, if you want. It’s up to you.”

“Lush,” Jill said, ushering her in and taking her coat. “I’m just glad there’s someone around for me to eat with or I’d go crazy.”

“I’d say the same about drinking,” Isabelle said. She tugged off her boots with a sigh. “God, I’ve had a crappy day.”

“The painting isn’t going well?”

“I didn’t paint one damn stroke today.”

Jill opened the first bottle and poured two generous glasses. “Does that put you behind?”

“No, I was a little ahead of schedule. It just pisses me off.” She glanced around the kitchen, noticing the loaves of herbed bread cooling on the counter. “Uh-oh. You’re baking bread. A bad day for you, too?”

Jill arched a sour look over the tops of her reading glasses as she collapsed into the couch. Isabelle had never seen a couch in a kitchen before coming here, but Jill lived in this room, and it was big enough for the couch and the eight-person table that sat a few feet away.

She joined Jill and brought the rest of the wine for good measure.

“Well,” Jill sighed, “we’re officially seeing other people.”

Isabelle gasped before she could stop herself. “You did it?”

“I issued the ultimatum, and Marguerite took me up on it, so I’m not sure if I did it or she did.”

“Shit,” Isabelle whispered, taking Jill’s hand to give it a squeeze. “I’m sorry. So it’s over?”

“I told her I needed additional company if I couldn’t see her more than twice a year. I’m not saying it’s over, but... She chose to spend her last week of leave on her own. So I guess I’ll be seeing other women.”

Isabelle gently clinked her glass against Jill’s. “Back in the saddle?”

“If I still remember how to ride. Marguerite’s last visit was eight months ago.”

“You’re probably better off than I am,” Isabelle said drily.

“I don’t want to hear that bullshit. I’m a black lesbian living in Wyoming. You get no sympathy from me.”

Isabelle laughed until she snorted. “Okay, you’ve got me there. Then again, nobody’s forcing you to live in Wyoming.”

“No, but...” Jill waggled her eyebrows. “The flip side of that is I’m the only one around to fill the black-lesbian niche. Time to get back on the circuit.”

“All right. You’ll come out with me and Lauren for this week’s girls’ night out.”

Jill shook her head. “No. I’m too old for that.”

“Bullshit. You’re fifty-five. You’re hardly any older than I am.”

Jill howled. “Are you kidding me? You’re thirty-six. Imagine how much you’ve learned since the age of sixteen, and then double that for wisdom. That’s how close we are in age.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “It feels a lot closer than that.”

“Well, it’s not. So next time you have a girls’ night in, let me know.”

“Come on,” Isabelle pressed. “How will you meet anyone if you don’t get out?”

“It’s called internet dating. Maybe you’ve heard of it. I’ve spent more years picking up sexy young things at bars than you have. I’m done.”

Isabelle gave in with a grumble. When Jill dug in her heels, that was the end of it. “Well, I’m sorry. I know last time Marguerite was here, you two were trying to work through it.”

Jill waved a hand and got up to peek into the oven. “Enough about that. It’s all I’ve been thinking about for months. And I’ve got the perfect new topic.” She pulled the roast from the oven and smiled at Isabelle past the steam. “That hot US marshal who came by yesterday.”

Isabelle groaned, then immediately wished she could take the sound back. It revealed too much. The man should mean nothing to her. She latched on to her only excuse. “He interrupted my work.”

“Woman. No wonder you can’t get laid. Did you see him?”

Isabelle frowned. Yes, she’d seen him. He’d been tall. Lean. With short, dark hair just turning a bit gray at the temples. And if she thought about it, he’d had a pretty great face. A strong nose and dark eyebrows over intense green eyes. And lips that looked soft to the touch against all that masculinity. “Hmm,” she replied.

“Hmm, indeed. Aren’t you always saying you wish you could get home delivery of someone like him?”

No. Not someone like him. Someone like him but in no way associated with law enforcement. “He was fine. Do you think his story was legit?”

“About the judge? Are you kidding me? It’s been in the local paper all week. That man threatened to blow something up. You know the judge lives on the next road down the hill.”

Isabelle shrugged. “I guess I haven’t been reading the news.”

Jill got plates from the cupboard, but Isabelle didn’t get up to help. She knew from experience that Jill would only wave her away. Jill’s work was her art. There were sauces to be smeared and rosemary sprigs to be placed just so.

“You haven’t met the judge?” Jill asked.

“I don’t think so. You know how I am.”

“Hermit-y?” Jill tossed out.

Isabelle nodded. She wasn’t ashamed of being a hermit. And she had damn good reason to avoid a federal judge.

“Well, his daughter is the one who writes that advice column. Do you know her?”

“Dear Veronica? Really? She seems damn cool, but I’ve never met her. Have—?” Her words were cut off by the doorbell.

Jill disappeared into the front room. For a moment, Isabelle had a hopeful thought that maybe Jill’s girlfriend had dropped everything and flown in to try to make things work. But no. The military wasn’t that big on romantic gestures, even for a lieutenant colonel.

Then the door opened, and Isabelle heard a man’s voice. His voice. She jumped up and stared at the kitchen doorway in alarm. If she stayed hidden, she didn’t have anything to worry about. He couldn’t know she was here. Unless he’d followed her tracks through the snow. But what did he want?

She crept closer to the doorway, carefully keeping behind the wall. There was a living room and a short hallway between her and the front door, but his voice was deep, and she heard it rumbling as he spoke to Jill. Just a follow-up visit, hopefully. If this was really all about the judge, then—

The door closed, and Jill’s footsteps started back toward the kitchen. But she wasn’t alone. There were two sets of footsteps, one heavier than the other. Isabelle froze, her brain taking too long to respond to the change in situation, and she’d only just realized she should sneak back toward the couch when Jill stepped in. And he followed.

Jill’s chin jerked back in shock as she caught sight of Isabelle and did a double take. Tom Duncan’s nice dark eyebrows rose at the way she was huddled against the wall.

Isabelle stared up at him as she realized she’d pressed herself into a corner between the kitchen countertop and the doorway. It looked as if she’d been doing exactly what she had been. Hiding and eavesdropping. Damn it. She glared in defense at the man’s questioning look.

Jill cleared her throat. “Look who decided to join us. I told him yesterday that he could stop by for dinner. Tom, you remember Isabelle.”

“Ms. West,” he said.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” she responded. Jill glared at her, but she ignored it.

His surprised eyebrows finally dropped, and he nodded. “It’s my job to find out these sorts of things.”

“Just out of innocent curiosity?” Isabelle countered.

“No, it’s more about protecting the target. What if you were the cousin of the defendant?”

“Hmm.”

“I told him your name,” Jill said. “Regardless, he’s staying for dinner.”

He finally smiled, transforming his face from hard to handsome, but the look was all for Jill. “I really hope your offer was genuine, but I guess I’m here even if it wasn’t.”

“Of course it was genuine! Don’t pay any attention to Isabelle. She’s in the middle of a project. She’d much rather deal with her two-dimensional people.”