A Grave Mistake. Stella Cameron

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      “No. Except I just knew he was looking at my place and I could see the back of the car around the corner.”

      Guy put his hands on his hips and expanded his lungs. He felt an artificial calm in the air as if the world was about to split wide open and nothing but filth would pour out.

      He wanted Edith Preston, and anyone remotely attached to her, out of Toussaint, preferably yesterday.

      “You were right in the first place,” Jilly said. “I’m over-reacting. I need to head back into town.”

      And without a word of reassurance from me, ass that I am. “I’ll walk you to your car. Good-lookin’ mutt running loose up there. I’ll call the pound.”

      Jilly stopped so suddenly, he’d taken two steps before he halted and looked at her. “What is it?”

      “You call the pound on that dog and I’ll never speak to you again.”

      Shee-it. “It’s lost, Jilly. Kindest thing to do—”

      “Is have it picked up and gassed? Oh, no, sir, not that sweet-natured pooch. Look at that trusting face. He’s just what you need to take your mind off yourself now and then.”

      Guy felt a bit wild. “I need that trampy dog?”

      “You surely do, Mr. Gautreaux.” She clapped her hands at the hound. “Here, boy. Here, boy. Come and meet Guy.”

      “Damn it, Jilly, don’t do that. I can’t have a dog.”

      “Sure you can. What else do you have in that miserable shotgun house of yours? Not furniture, that’s for sure.”

      “I like—whoa.” The dog arrived, bypassed Jilly as if he’d never seen her, now or before, and landed against Guy’s middle. His long tongue lolled out of his mouth, he slobbered, and looked for all the world like he was grinning.

      Guy patted the dog’s head and said, “Down, boy,” which the critter did. He sat beside the man as if he was giving an obedience demonstration.

      “Look at that, he—”

      “Never mind the dog. I’ll see he’s taken care of. Let’s go sit at a picnic table. I want you to tell me what you really need from me. And you can kick me if I put my foot in my mouth.”

      She blinked. He was trying to reach out to her. Jilly couldn’t find the words she really wanted to say. “The first thing you need to do when you adopt a dog is to get him looked at by a vet. He’ll need all of his shots, and—”

      Guy’s pinched-up expression stopped Jilly. “I said, forget the dog.” He took off toward the back lawn.

      Jilly followed him. She surreptitiously patted her thigh and the big pup gamboled past her to lope along at Guy’s heel. Guy walked easily, his big shoulders and arms swinging.

      “I’ll get us a cold drink,” Guy called back.

      Something about him suggested he was in a hurry. “Not for me, thanks,” Jilly said, although her mouth felt like sandpaper.

      They sat, facing each other across the table, the dog a couple of feet distant with his liquid eyes firmly on Guy’s face.

      “Let’s get to it,” Guy said. He wasn’t going to grow a silver tongue so he might as well wade in.

      “Why don’t you like Edith?”

      He gave her a long, considered look. “I like you. I don’t like anyone who hurts you. That should cover it.”

      “She’s changed.”

      “People don’t change.”

      Jilly hitched at the thin straps on her yellow sun-dress. One of the nicest things about Edith’s mother having been part black was that Jilly had inherited skin the color of pale gold coffee. Edith had it, too. Guy’s eyes flickered toward her thumbs, where they were hooked beneath her straps, then away again. Most of the time he treated her like one of the guys, but there were those moments that let her know he didn’t entirely think of her that way. Those moments tended to make her legs wobbly.

      “I already told you how I felt about that, Jilly,” he said. “People changing. But I understand you wanting to believe something different.”

      “I don’t like to disturb you, Guy, but I am going to ask you something. As long as there’s nothing to suggest Edith is some kind of criminal who came here just to ruin my life, could you try to back me up? Give me some confidence until I know, one way or the other, if she wants to make things up to me like she says she does?”

      “How do you intend to find out these things?” he asked her. “One way or the other? Do you wait till you get dragged in too deep to get out? Or until the man you insisted watched you from across the street decides to wait for you inside your house one night?”

      “Stop it!”

      “I can’t. I can’t pull any punches. What if Sam Preston decides you could be dangerous to him?”

      She crossed her arms. “I couldn’t be. That’s silly.”

      “You don’t know that.”

      “What have you got against the man? He’s married to my mother, that doesn’t make him a criminal.”

      And there she had him. “You’re right.” He couldn’t tell her Joe Gable had already confided that he didn’t trust Edith’s supposed reason for being in Toussaint, or that he thought all the flash was to impress Jilly for some ulterior motive. Joe had speculated that Edith might know about an inheritance Jilly was about to get—a big one—only between them they couldn’t come up with a plausible benefactor. “Preston’s an antiques dealer in the Quarter, right?”

      “Yes,” Jilly said. “I told you that before.”

      “I guess you did. I can’t help thinking about the guy seeming to be stinking rich. I suppose there must be a lot of money in antiques.”

      “I suppose there must. Guy, all I want is for you to tell me everything’s okay,” Jilly said, feeling empty. “Just be there for me while I allow it all to settle down.”

      “Everything’s okay,” he said, his eyes burning in their sockets.

      “No! Please don’t patronize me. I know what I’m asking is kind of silly, but I won’t find out what happened between my parents, not for sure, unless I can take this chance I’ve been handed and make the best of it.”

      He let out a long sigh. The dog, with his long fur shining like sealskin, had slid his head onto Guy’s thigh. He stood quiet, like a statue—as if he could be invisible if he tried real hard.

      Guy gave the mutt a rub and that earned him a look of adoration. “I don’t want to patronize you, Jilly. I’d be a fool if I did, because you’re one smart woman.” Why would she want to know anything more about the senior Gables’ dysfunctional relationship?

      “Could СКАЧАТЬ