She had to find some way to take Lynn out of the picture. Some way that would make her utterly unappealing to Jackson Stone.

  While Madge’s mental wheels spun, she made herself another daiquiri, her preferred poison. More elegant than beer or a shot of whiskey, she believed.

  Yup. There had to be a way to remove Lynn from the competition. She just needed to figure it out.

  Sitting back in the comfy wing chair she’d inherited from her second husband, she sipped her drink and inhaled the lime aroma, imagining herself in an elegant bar.

  Madge pretended a lot. She just didn’t realize it all the time.

  * * *

  Jax had changed into workout clothes and gone for a long run. He had the worst feeling that everything hung in a state of stasis, that more was going to happen, but he had no idea what or when.

  Or maybe that was leftover mission-think. He couldn’t imagine a more generally peaceful locale than this county. Sure, bad things happened, but most people still left their doors unlocked.

  It wasn’t as if nothing had changed since his departure fifteen years ago. It had almost surprised him to get broadband Wi-Fi at Lynn’s house. The internet might have been around for a long time, but when he’d lived here, most people had to go to the library to use it.

  The town, however, looked a little more ragged. The years hadn’t been kind. He took in the paint that had faded on some houses, in places peeling away, and all he could do was admire Lynn’s determination and her faith that her work would be rewarded.

  Or maybe the work itself was reward enough. He wondered if he should ask.

  But there was a strong part of him that still hung back from asking questions he had no right to ask, from putting himself forward.

  In the Corps he was fine. No problems, set rules, set limits. He knew who he was. Out here in the hinterlands he felt a touch of that young boy returning.

  Enough of that, though. That wasn’t him any longer.

  He thought about going by the ranch house where he and Adam had cemented their relationship over all those years. When they had been the only friends out there in the wide-open spaces.

  But no, there were bad memories there, too, like his father’s brutality. Only later did he realize the man had no right to whip him like that. Only when he was eight and happened to be home had he learned how violently his father had treated his mother.

  He’d heard her crying one night, “Samuel, no! Please...”

  He’d crept from his room and peered from the top of the banister to see what was happening. He’d seen too much, his father pummeling his mother even after she fell to the floor.

  At the time he’d had no comparison. He thought that was the way things should be, especially when he heard it happen repeatedly. But he hated it. He also never spoke of it, not even to Adam, for fear of getting his mother into more trouble.

  Maybe that had birthed part of his reticence, his introversion. Did it matter now?

  All he knew was that when he was sixteen, his father had sent his mother to the hospital with a broken jaw.

  And that was when Jax, string bean that he was, had learned to stand up to that ugly, abusive man. Never again.

  His mother had left shortly after she got out of the hospital. His dad had started drinking himself into a stupor all the time. When Jax left for the military, everything was lost. The ranch foreclosed, his father settling the last of it by eating his shotgun.

  And not one sliver of sorrow had troubled Jax.

  He’d kept in touch with his mother for a few years until cancer took her. That did sadden him, but he figured she was better off.

  No, he didn’t want to go back to that place. It was seeded with some great memories, but also with many more memories he didn’t want to flood him.

  Off-limits.

  Instead, it was easier to think about a Marine stalking him. Far easier. That was the kind of threat he could handle.

  * * *

  Lynn’s roomers went out again for dinner and dates, she gathered. She was happy, however, when she heard Jax return. It was not at all like the comings and goings of her boys.

  The pork tenderloin was almost done, roasting with potatoes and carrots. The aroma made her mouth water.

  Nancy beat her to the kitchen door. “Dinner, Jax? There’s plenty.”

  Lynn hid a smile. She’d never doubted that Jax was also on her mother’s menu. She did, however, notice that he hesitated before answering.

  “Don’t put him on the spot, Mom.”

  “I’m sure the man knows how to decline, Lynn.”

  Jax must have heard her warning to her mother, Lynn suddenly realized with a sinking feeling. Oh, hell. She didn’t want him to think she was reluctant to have his company, but she also couldn’t dash out there and press him further about eating with them.

  She needed to learn to keep her mouth shut. And ignore the niggle of hope that he would accept the invitation. She enjoyed his company, reserved as it was, more than she should.

  “I’d like that very much, Nancy,” Jax answered. “I need to change and wash up first.”

  “There’s time,” Nancy answered brightly.

  When his boot steps disappeared upstairs, Lynn looked at her mother. “You do have a thing for him.”

  “I do not. He’s way too young for me.”

  “No December-May relationship then?”

  Nancy snorted. “I don’t need a trophy husband. I’m enjoying my freedom way too much.”

  Lynn hoped it was true that Nancy was enjoying her freedom. She certainly seemed like it. But trophy husband? She nearly laughed out loud.

  She turned from the sink, where she was washing a few prep dishes, and was annoyed to see her mother placing a couple of candles on the table. Candles and holders that Lynn had put away a long time ago.

  “Too much, Mom.”

  Nancy stood back, surveying the table that at present held only dark green place mats. “Do you think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “But it’s so boring.”

  “Fine, but it’s better than a romantic candlelit dinner. Cut it out.”

  Nancy sighed, but for once didn’t argue. The candles and holders disappeared back to their place in a corner of the pantry. “We need a tablecloth.”

  “Sure, and who’s going to wash and iron it?”

  “They make those that don’t wrinkle.”

  “I don’t need a tablecloth. I usually eat in my apartment upstairs. By myself.”

  “But you never know...”

  This time Lynn didn’t bother to answer.

  Nancy was good at laying out food, however. By the time Jax joined them, the sliced tenderloin sat on a platter surrounded by browned potatoes and carrots.

  Lynn set the places with the best unchipped dishes she could find and flatware that was scratched with age. No point even thinking about it. It was all she had.

  “Dinner smells great,” Jax said appreciatively as he took his place at the table.

  “Something to drink?” Lynn asked.

  “Just water, please. No ice.”

  After Jax had tasted everything, he remarked, “I don’t think I’ve ever had pork this tender.”

  “Lynn cooked it,” Nancy said. “I just helped.”

  Lynn resisted rolling her eyes, hearing the subtext Lynn not only remodels but she can do the feminine thing, too. She can cook. What was up next? Her mother extolling her virtues as a laundress?

  She glanced at Jax and caught the twinkle in his eyes. He must have heard the subtext, too.

  “It’s really good, Lynn,” he said promptly, obviously taking the hint.

  Lynn hurried to change the subject. “Did you have a good day, Jax?”

  “Fair to middling,” he answered. “I wandered a bit, thought a bit about the past.” And about the present threat, but he wasn’t going to mention that. No way.

  “Did you visit the old homestead?” Nancy asked.

  “No.”

  The word was flat and forbidding. Lynn looked at him, and other than a slight tightening around his eyes, she saw total impassivity. He’d locked something away deep inside him.

  “I’m sure you can borrow my car if you want to get out there,” Nancy offered.

  Lynn wanted to tap her mother’s leg under the table. She wasn’t getting it. Jax’s single word had said enough.

  “Very kind of you,” Jax said after a moment. “But I think not.” He resumed eating. A minute or so later, he asked, “How was your day, Lynn?”

  “Wasted mostly,” she admitted. “I couldn’t face looking into that wall yet, so I puttered around taking some measurements for new kitchen cabinets and counters. And no, Mom, I’m nowhere near ready to do that. Just thinking about it.”

  “Sounds productive to me,” Jax replied.

  “You should consult me about the counters,” Nancy said. “I’ve had experience with all the different types and, believe me, some are vastly overrated. Fashionable, but hard to take care of.”

  “I’d like to hear about that sometime,” Lynn said, heading off potential hostilities. Not that a discussion with her mother would ever become hostile, but it could sure turn difficult.

  “Have you heard anything from Adam and Jazz?” she asked Jax.

  He smiled. “On their honeymoon?”

  Nancy spoke. “I think it’s so odd that Jasmine is called Jazz and Jackson is called Jax.”

  “We joked about it at the wedding,” Jax answered. “Pure coincidence.”

  While the food was wonderful, Lynn wished this dinner would be over. Tension crept across the table as Nancy prattled on about things best left alone, everything from Jax’s family to his reasons for not wanting to visit his old home.

  As the dinner progressed, Jax grew more monosyllabic, offering no explanations. And why should he? It was no one’s business but his own.

  Lynn smothered a sigh and was glad when she could at last stand up and start clearing the table. Jax immediately rose to help.

  “Mom, why don’t you go find something on TV? Or a good book. You worked so hard on this dinner.”

  Nancy smiled, looking from Lynn to Jax as if this were just what she’d hoped for. “A great idea, Lynn. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Not if Jax can escape first,” she said under her breath when Nancy disappeared.

  To her astonishment, Jax laughed. “Too bad she’s out of luck.”

  Lynn’s heart stumbled. “Oh?” she asked, wondering why she should even care.

  “I doubt either of us can be maneuvered as easily as she seems to think.”

  He had a point. Relaxing again, Lynn stacked scraped plates beside the sink. “It doesn’t bother you?”

  He shook his head and began washing dishes. “It amuses me. Don’t let it bother you. But I wonder if she has any idea how transparent she is?”

  That drew a laugh from Lynn. “I’m not sure.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just relax. I’ve handled far worse.”

  Like Madge, Lynn thought. But Jax was subtle. She wondered if Madge understood that she’d been given a major brush-off.

  The woman’s nerve astonished her, though. She knew Madge was a flirt, always looking for another man, as if she had no other way of measuring her own self-worth. But claiming an old friendship when there had been none? That seemed more problematic than her usual flirtations.

  Shaking her head, Lynn started drying dishes.

  * * *

  Later, upstairs in her private aerie, music from her boys’ rooms rising quietly through the floor, Lynn sat with her tablet on her lap, her eyes focused elsewhere even when the screen darkened to save the battery power.

  A small fire burned in her electric fireplace. Warm lamplight filled the room, but she wasn’t seeing any of it.

  Jax had been tense. Not overly so, but she felt the difference from when he first arrived. It couldn’t be Madge; she wasn’t important enough to disturb him.

  Remembering how abruptly he had responded to her mother about visiting his old home, she felt the tension that lay there. At least inside him.

  Given how silent and distant he had remained the whole time he’d lived here, at least according to those who had known him better than she had, maybe something other than his nature had driven him to keep his distance.

  Rumors flew around this town endlessly, but she’d heard none about Jax or his family. Not a single whisper, which would lead her to believe they’d been boringly ordinary.

  Then there was Adam, his friend since before he’d started school, from what she had heard. Wouldn’t that be a good memory? Something he could recall out at the old ranch?

  Why wouldn’t he want to follow those pathways in his past?

  As she sat there, she grew increasingly convinced that something truly bad had happened to Jax. Something he had locked inside his silence and introversion.

  She stared into space for a while, then sighed. He’d never tell her, and she was probably all wet anyway. Speculating about his past wasn’t going to do a damn bit of good.

  Instead, she forced her thoughts to the kitchen she’d begun measuring today. No small project, especially since she wanted to do more than replace countertops and appliances. She envisioned gutting the entire room, rearranging everything, adding more cabinets and counter space. The electrical work was going to be expensive, never mind the rest of it.

  But if she was going to do it, she was going to do it right. Make it a workable space, rather than a cobbled-together room from an earlier time when the minimum was enough, when a table had to substitute for counters.

  Definitely more cabinets because those along the one wall beside the sink simply weren’t enough. A built-in dishwasher rather than water-wasteful handwashing.

  The measurements she’d taken today hadn’t been of what was already there. They had been measurements of the space and the beginnings of rough sketches of how she could change the room without sacrificing too much of the area.

  A nice diversion, especially since she had other tasks that were far more pressing like that damn living room wall.

  She looked down at the tablet on her lap but didn’t turn it on again. Instead she leaned her head back and thought about Matt.

  Matt, that wonderful guy who’d swept her off her feet. His smile, the sound of his laughter, his warm hands caressing her. Her other half.

  She’d gotten to the point where she could think about all the good things and mostly ignore the horror at the end. The blessing of time.

  But as she dozed off, Matt’s face became mixed with Jax’s. The two came together seamlessly as if part of her whole. And in dreams, there was no reason to feel guilty.

  * * *

  One floor down in his own bedroom, Jax stretched out on the bed with his hands behind his head. He pictured Lynn upstairs in her attic and felt his body stir.

  With each passing hour, his attraction to her grew. He didn’t seem to be able to prevent it, but he sure as hell could ignore it. He had to. He was convinced that, after Matt, Lynn wouldn’t want to get involved with another military man. And he had no intention of leaving the Corps early unless a severe enough wound or injury made him unfit for duty. In five years he’d be able to retire if he chose, but he often thought about extending past that.

  He’d be only thirty-eight, and that seemed too young to hang up his uniform.

  Nor did he believe he’d be any more acceptable to Lynn because he’d just been given command of recruiting centers in Denver. The position was an honor and physically safe, but it could end at any moment if he was needed in the field. Nope, not secure enough to offer a woman widowed by war.

  He shook his head at the unwanted direction of his thoughts. Why was he thinking about her in the long term anyway? They hardly knew each other and he sure as hell wasn’t going to have a fling with her. Leave it alone. It could never be. Don’t allow these feelings to strengthen.

  He thought about Madge for a few minutes, a safer place for his mind to wander. He was still astonished by her insistence they’d had something going in high school. She seemed to be stalking him, judging by the way she’d joined his table at Maude’s. It wouldn’t be the first time that had happened since he’d put on the uniform.

  But that was a minor matter. The problem would end when he left.

  Which turned him in a different direction. He was pretty much stuck here until the arson investigation was completed, which meant he was going to have to deal with Madge and the amusing Nancy for longer. He kind of liked Nancy West and her determination to push Lynn to her way of thinking, especially since Lynn clearly wasn’t going to allow herself to be pushed.

  He wondered, though, how much Nancy sometimes embarrassed Lynn. The question brought a faint smile to his face. Two strong-willed women. They must clash quite often.

  The amount of work Lynn had put into this place impressed him. She must be at it nearly all the time. He envisioned her on ladders, scraping and painting all that gingerbread, and there was a lot of it.

  He bet that standing in the front yard, he’d have gotten a very nice view of her butt.

  Ah, hell. He rolled over, trying to squash the images.

  Better to focus on the call from Briggs. Could he be right that someone was out to kill the jurors in the Albright trial? Maybe so, since an investigation had begun.

  With his eyes closed, it was too easy to remember that trial. Too easy to see the photographs, too easy to hear the testimony from men who had served with Albright. Those who accused Albright were clearly unhappy about doing so, but equally angry that he had ordered them to kill unarmed civilians. Those who had steadfastly stood up for him had insisted that he had done nothing wrong. It was war, after all.