Chapter Five

Chris decided to take on the Scotts' case, as Ginger suspected he would. She saw very little of him over the next three days, which also came as no surprise. When he wasn't locked in his study, poring over preliminary notes on the case, he was out doing research. Ginger hadn't thus far been able to pin down an exact date, but she knew he would be leaving for Illinois very soon, probably within three weeks.

Her thoughts began to stray toward Billings, her aunt and uncle and her impending return. She had scarcely given Aiden a passing thought during her week-long visit to her hometown.

She tried not to examine it too closely. More than that, she tried to quell the feelings of betrayal that rose within her. Yes, she was dating Aiden and had been for two years, and while they were exclusive, they were also somewhat lukewarm. She had never slept with Aiden, never experienced more than a few chaste kisses by porch light at the end of a pleasant evening. Maybe that was why she was finding it so easy to be separated from him now.

Aiden was a true Montana gentleman; he was the anti-Adam. He was exactly what Ginger needed. At least that's what she was quick to tell herself during the occasional long, lonely night, when memories of Adam's fire burned through her, igniting a ferocious need. She had learned a long time ago to stamp down her restlessness and redirect her energy elsewhere.

Being in such close proximity to Adam now was no easy feat. For one thing, he looked better than ever, strong and capable. For another, he was determined and intense by nature, sparking a response from her without even having to try.

And she knew that given enough time, he would try. That was apparent enough in the way he had looked her over at Gran's. Despite his parting shot to her that day in the parking lot, she was still certain he had been in cahoots with the old woman to get her back to Atlanta. The bottom line was that sometime over the past few years, he'd decided he wanted her on some level. Too late. A knock at the door jerked her out of her musings.

"Ginger?" A voice called through the wood and glass.

"Adam!" Her face burned at his sudden intrusion.

"Were you expecting someone else?" He grinned when she walked into the entryway and opened the door.

"Anyone but you?" she tried, grateful that he couldn't possibly know the direction her thoughts had been taking all morning. It would only bolster his already over-inflated ego. And besides, he was still the enemy. Adam Nash represented all that was wrong for her in a man.

"Can I come in? Are you busy?"

"Why do you want to come in?" she asked cautiously.

"I came to see Chris."

"He's not here. Sorry you wasted a trip."

"Okay, I came to see you."

"Which is it, Adam?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Five minutes. You can give me five minutes, can't you?"

"Why not?" she sighed, stepping aside to let him in. "I could time you," she considered. "I'm pretty sure I saw an egg timer in the kitchen."

"I probably have a watch somewhere in my truck," he offered in return.

"Forget it. You want some coffee? You caught me in the middle of doing the wash, but it won't take long to make a pot."

"I'll make the coffee. You can finish up what you were doing if you want." He indicated the basket of damp linens perched on the edge of the counter. "I know my way around."

"Yeah, I guess you do." She frowned, scooping up the basket of clean bed sheets that she'd intended to line dry and instead heading for the laundry alcove next to the kitchen.

"How do you like being home? Is it the same as you remember?" he asked conversationally.

"Are you kidding? This place will be the same a hundred years from now. But," she grudgingly admitted, "it's been nice, really nice. Of course it would have been nicer if I hadn't been lured back here under false pretenses." She shoved the sheets into the dryer, hit the start button, then reluctantly went back to the kitchen.

"But would you have come?"

"I knew it! It was the two of you … schemers!"

"I don't—"

"Adam," she warned.

"Okay," he said sheepishly. "Guilty."

"Why would you do something like that? Gran doing it, I can understand—she's crazy. But why would you help her trick me like that?"

The look he gave her was pointed. "Maybe it was time for you to come home, Ginger. It's been four years."

"Thank you. I know how long it's been. But where I go is up to me. It's my choice, not yours, and not Gran's."

He shrugged, turning away to fill the coffee maker with cold water. "Could be that you were making the wrong choice."

She snorted. "I know Gran always thinks she knows what's best for everyone, but—"

"I happen to agree with her."

"Really. Did you agree with her the night you told me we weren't working out for you anymore?" The night after she'd told him how much he meant to her, the bastard. "Or how about when you threw me to the wolves the night I was arrested?" she demanded.

"Ginger, that's not fair and you know it. What was I supposed to do?"

"What would have been wrong with telling the truth—that your aunt jumped on me first."

"After you yelled at her and poked her? Does it make a difference?"

"Yes, it does!" She slammed the empty basket onto the table.

"You should have walked away." He held up his hand when she would have interrupted him. "Yes, I've been made aware of what a bitch Claudia was that night, and I'm sorry. But there was a store full of witnesses that saw you poking her in the back and yelling at her before the fight broke out."

"So you had to refer to me as your 'crazy' ex-girlfriend, making it sound like I targeted the old bag?"

"I didn't know what was going on. I'm sorry. What else do you want me to say?"

She noticed that he had conveniently skirted the subject of their breakup, but let it go for the time being. "Nothing. I want you to say absolutely nothing. It was four years ago. It hardly matters now, and anyway, I'll be leaving in two days. So, thanks for dropping by." She nodded toward the door, hoped he would take the hint, but reasoned he would figure it out either way, and retreated to the relative safety of the laundry room.

"Ginger, I'm sorry," Adam whispered, coming up behind her and tucking her close to his chest, refusing to be put off. "I'm so sorry. I know I've made a mess of things, but don't leave on Saturday. Please…"

She turned and lifted her head to look at him, hoping to find some way to make him understand that she didn't belong here anymore. "Adam…," she murmured, unsure why she felt the need to whisper but not caring all the same.

His arms tightened, closing any remaining distance between them before he brushed her lips with his own.

The next ten minutes were a blur for Ginger, a hazy mix of heat and tenderness but most of all, passion. Nothing made sense in the dark, quiet recesses of the alcove. And she knew then that she'd been an idiot to let him get this close, to see him at all, to play with fire yet again. She found herself between him and the wall and clung tighter instead of pushing him away.

When she felt his hand slip beneath her shirt, she found her voice in a moan rather than an indignant shout, and when, still fully clothed, he slid his hand lower to touch her through her panties, she lost control with a swiftness that left her completely stunned.

When he kissed her and left without another word, she was left with one burning question—what in the hell had she just done?

* * *

The shrill scream filled the air, the voice obviously belonging to a woman. Ginger's hands went automatically to her ears.

"Good God," she breathed, trying not to wince from the anguish that blared from the television speakers at what she felt certain must have been full volume.

Chris picked up a minuscule remote control, pausing the sound in mid-howl.

"This recording was express-mailed to me last night," he explained. "Peter and Elizabeth Scott, young married couple living in Falcon County, Illinois. Source of the activity is a blue Victorian-style home, age approximately one hundred years. Activity has also been reported on neighboring premises. This," he gestured to the flat screen hanging on the wall behind him, "is what we're up against." Fixing his crew with a level stare, he reiterated, "We've got a live one, people."

As if anyone needed that reminder. Ginger was sure it went without saying that something was seriously amiss in Falcon County. Her wide eyes traveled from one restless staff member to another. Each looked more disconcerted than the last, she noted. A feeling that could only be described as dread began pooling in her gut.

"We have one week before we leave for Illinois. This will be a two-week investigation—in residence," he added.

Everyone began to speak at once, clamoring for Chris's attention and creating quite a ruckus in the process.

"People! People, please, one at a time. You'll all get a chance to voice your concerns right here and now. All I ask is that you do it one at a time. Deal?"

Five heads nodded. Ginger began to pick at an invisible stain on her blouse, silently watching the scene unfold.

"Eddie," Chris nodded encouragement to his camera man, "do you have something you would like to say?"

"Yeah. I'm not going."

"Bad timing?"

"No." The single word was clipped and terse; Eddie's mouth was set in a grim line.

"I thought so." Chris drew a long, slow breath and held it in for a moment. "Well, you know I won't ask you to do anything you aren't comfortable doing."

Ginger caught Eddie's gaze before quickly looking away. His announcement came as no surprise. She had already learned from her brother that Eddie was under a lot of strain and had been for some time. Chris had suspected that his camera man was one step away from getting out of the business for good, and from the look of it that day had just arrived.

"Gina...?" Her brother turned to his equipment tech.

"I can't travel right now, Chris. I'm sorry."

"I was going to say the same thing," Martin, one of the part-time investigators, chimed in while edging toward the door.

"I see." Chris rocked back on his heels, jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his chocolate-brown slacks, and regarded the group gathered before him. "Guys, maybe it would be easier to ask who will be making this trip with me."

He sighed when the remaining two part-timers looked to the others who had already spoken, then shook their own heads, stiff and mute.

"I see."

"I'll do it," Ginger blurted, forcing the words out through lips that felt numb. She heard the words, knew she had spoken them aloud, yet still had a hard time believing they had actually come from her mouth. This was it. She had officially lost her mind, not that she'd had to go very far to do it.

"Ginger…?" Chris's eyes were questioning.

"I'll go." She nodded, knowing what it meant to him and remembering the subtle desperation in Elizabeth Scott's initial letter.

"Thank you. And the rest of you? Are you certain you won't reconsider working this case?"

When silence reigned, he dismissed the crew with no small measure of weary acceptance and promises to call if he required their services in future investigations.

Eddie was the last to file out of the room, and he caught Ginger's arm as he passed, leaning in close. "Be sure you know what you're doing."

"Ah…"

He leaned over until his mouth brushed the hair that was tucked behind one ear, his grip bordering on painful.

"Some things are meant to be left alone." His voice broke, and Ginger disentangled herself from his wound-up clutches just as Chris stepped between them.

"Thank you, Eddie, that will be all."

Ginger let out the breath she'd been holding and sank onto one of the folding chairs that had been set up specifically for the staff meeting.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Hit on you?"

"No. He said that some things are better left alone. Thanks for stepping in, though. He was getting pretty intense."

"Damn. I'm sorry. He hasn't been himself for a long time now. I should have pulled him off the team months ago."

"What's wrong with him?"

"The stress of the job." Chris shrugged, slipping a DVD into a clear plastic case. "This lifestyle is not for everyone."

"I see that." She ignored the fine tremor that seemed to have taken hold of her.

"I guess you do. I would never have asked you to do this, by the way. You can back out now."

"Your whole crew just quit on you," she felt compelled to point out.

"So I'll put together another crew."

"In a week's time?"

"No," he admitted. "The Scotts' investigation would have to be postponed."

"So, now you've got me."

"Really?" He grinned. "You think you're up to this?"

"I know I am," she insisted, injecting a force of will and level of strength into her voice that she was far from feeling. Think and you shall become, she hoped.

"Thanks, Red."

"Uh-huh."

"I really appreciate this, and of course you'll get paid."

"Whatever. I'm not worried about that, Chris. Keep your money. Besides, I have zip for experience. I only hope I don't get in the way."

"Nonsense. You'll do fine."

"Can we pull this off with only two of us?"

"Not likely, but we can with a camera man. It shouldn't be too hard to recruit one person in the next few days. The two of you will have to pull double duty as equip techs, if that's all right with you."

"Fine, no problem."

"Well, there is one problem."

"There is?" She frowned.

"As a matter of fact, there is. Who gets to tell Gran why we'll both be gone for two whole weeks?"

"You're it!" they announced at the same time.

* * *

One week later…

The sun had long since begun its slow descent into the horizon, and a silvery moon was already playing peek-a-boo with the clouds when Ginger tore her attention from the equipment she had been huddled over for most of the afternoon. Her muscles were stiff and a dull, throbbing ache reverberated through her back, making the first few steps she attempted feel clumsy and awkward.

Equipment techs did not have it easy, she decided with a frown. Of course, knowing what you were doing probably cut the time in half. And knowing what the hell you were looking at probably made the job an absolute snap.

As it was, she had wasted hours identifying, inspecting, cleaning, and preparing an unbelievable surplus of cameras, recorders, video cameras, electrical testers, heat sensors, and several other pieces of equipment that were still a mystery. She had identified those by serial number and tried her best to handle them with extra-special care. She hoped to God that she hadn't inadvertently damaged or broken anything. Failing that, she hoped Chris knew a thing or two about fixing these machines.

At least it had kept her mind off of the hot mess that had become her personal life. She hadn't spoken to Adam in a week. She hadn't spoken to Aiden, either, which was just as well. Ginger had no clue what to say to either of them. Adam, she planned to avoid like the plague until she went back to Montana. Grimly, she acknowledged that she'd have to talk to Aiden, and soon. He'd probably hate her when he found out what she'd done, what she'd let happen. She really had no excuse other than rampant hormones—and a long history of stupidity where Adam was concerned. Beyond stupid.

Adam talked a good game, sure, but she knew from painful experience that he wasn't a long-haul kind of guy. The memory of his absolute silence that night she'd told him she loved him still hurt. While she'd desperately waited for him to say it back, to say anything, he'd looked away, then quietly said he had to go. He'd dumped her the next day. She'd been such a fool to think that the reason he'd been distant was because he was unsure of where she stood, that if knew how she felt about him, it would make a difference. She was almost certain now that he'd been cheating back then. He'd shredded her heart four years ago. Now she'd ruined a two-year relationship with a decent guy, and for what? Her pulse kicked up a notch at that thought, and she shoved it aside, knowing she'd have to deal with it eventually. But not tonight. Her personal problems weren't going anywhere. And she had enough to worry about with the upcoming trip to Illinois.

They were set to rendezvous early the next morning. Normally, they would have gotten an earlier start, by a day or even two, Chris had hastily explained. But finding a third investigator had proven more difficult than he'd initially anticipated.

It seemed that all of his usual backups were either out of town on vacation, or caring for their families now that school was out and summer was in full swing. That or they'd been contacted by a very disgruntled Eddie. Ginger sighed, closed the overhead door to the garage, and tromped into the house, thoroughly disgusted by the former camera man's complete lack of professionalism. So he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Did that give him the right to take it out on other people? She could respect the fact that he was in a fragile state at the moment. She could even understand his fear and discomfort where his former job was concerned.

What she couldn't understand was why he felt the need to try to sabotage Chris, even indirect sabotage. Her brother had worked so hard to build himself up, make a name for himself. He didn't need this and he damn sure didn't deserve it.

Ginger flounced up the stairs and into her bedroom, stopping long enough to switch on one of the two lamps that framed her old bed before padding to the bathroom for a hot soak in the tub. Maybe if she called Eddie and tried to reason with him…? Maybe she could make him see some logic and common sense. Probably not, she acknowledged, but wouldn't it be worth a try? Or would it only further encourage a disgruntled former employee and irritate her brother?

The latter scenario seemed more likely, she conceded dismally, switching her bath to a shower. She was too keyed up for sitting. A nice hot shower was the ticket to easing her tension. And she could scrounge up a quick meal in the kitchen when she was done.

Something heavy like leftover turkey, or chicken and noodles, to help her sleep. Cheese and crackers sounded appealing, too, if they weren't out of cheese. Neither she nor Chris had bothered to purchase anything perishable during their grocery trip three days ago. It would only be wilted, spoiled, or brown by the time they came home from their two-week journey.

She had just stepped onto the purple terrycloth bath mat and was reaching for a towel when a black-clad figure rushed her, spinning her around and hauling her backward before she could even see the face of her attacker.

Dear Lord, she was naked. A strange thing to be worried about at such a time, possibly, but in that instant she could think of little else.

"Did you miss me?" Adam's voice was a husky rumble in her ear.

"You son of a bitch!" she roared, twisting away from him with murder in her narrowed eyes. "What in the hell do you think you're doing? You scared me half to death! Are you laughing at me? Stop that! You stop laughing right now, Adam Nash. That was not funny!" she finished in a huff, frantically searching for her missing towel, or a robe—anything that would cover her.

She was ready to plaster her body with hand towels if it would hide her nudity from his predatory gaze. "Dear Lord, help me, I don't want to have to kill him tonight…"

Adam chuckled in response. "Are you looking for this?" he asked with mock innocence, her pink towel dangling precariously from one finger.

"Give me that!" She snatched at the item and hastily wrapped it around her body. "Now get out."

"Hey, you're really mad." He frowned.

"You're just now figuring that out? Leave. My. Bathroom. Now. How did you even get in here?"

"The door was unlocked," he replied with a shrug. "I'm sorry I scared you, baby."

"I'm not your baby."

Adam went still. "You could have fooled me a few mornings ago. What was that then, Ginger?"

"A mistake…" she said after a brief, awkward silence. He had thought they were a couple again? She pushed away a sudden wave of guilt, then immediately wondered why she felt the need to soothe him. Why in God's name would he assume that, after more than four years, he could just give her an orgasm in a laundry room and pick up where they'd left off?

"I see."

"No, I don't think you do—"

"Ginger? You up there? I need to talk to you!" Chris hollered up the stairs.

"Oh my God," she breathed, shoving Adam into her bedroom. "Get out of here now. Take the old maid's staircase and … and wait in the study, so he doesn't know you were up here. Go!"

For a single horrifying second she didn't think he was going to move.

"Fine," he finally muttered before turning on his heel and walking out.

"One problem solved," she sighed, leaning heavily against the dresser. The last thing she wanted to do was answer the type of questions that would come up if Chris saw Adam coming out of her bedroom, and her fresh from the shower to boot! Chris was tactful enough not to ask, and she realized she didn't owe anyone an explanation either way. Still, the scene would have created more embarrassment than she felt prepared to handle at the moment.

Adam thought they were back together. She circled back to that thought again and groaned. Correction. He had thought they were an item. She was pretty sure she'd just managed to smash his misconception all to hell. But she couldn't do anything about that at the moment, so she dressed quickly in jeans and a white tank top, twisting her hair into a knot and securing it with a brown elastic band as she hurried down the stairs.

"Hi, Chris. I was in the … shower."

"Adam just told me." He nodded toward the kitchen. "He made it here ahead of me and was waiting down here."

"Oh…"

"Come on, we've heated up some supper. The three of us can eat and talk."

"The three of us?" She halted.

"I found a third person for the Scotts' investigation," Chris stated, ushering her into the brightly lit kitchen.

"You did?" she asked weakly.

Adam set a heaping plate of leftover turkey on the table and turned to welcome her before Chris could say anything more.

"Hello, partner."