Echo Lake

“Oh, now that’s a fun one to think about. Vic Scarlatti besotted with the wrong woman. The woman recognizing it and walking away from their relationship so he could go save the world.” Adrienne drank more of her wine. “I doubt it ever happened, but I don’t doubt our Vic has secrets. I, however, will concentrate on designing him a proper wine cellar and stocking it with proper wine.”

“Do you think you’d ever relocate out here?”

Adrienne’s eyes opened wide in obvious surprise. “Here? In Knights Bridge? What would I do?”

“What you’re doing now, I guess. You don’t go into an office.”

“True, but I need more asphalt and concrete around me than you have here. Total city girl. I can’t see myself enjoying an expensive red wine while watching a bald eagle sail above Echo Lake. Are there bald eagles here?”

“A few, thanks to the reservoir and its protected watershed.”

“Quabbin. What a beautiful place. I can’t help but think about the towns that were wiped off the map to create it. Can you imagine Knights Bridge under thirty feet of water, everything you know gone? The Swift River Valley was a very different place in 1912 when this house was built.”

“There was talk even then about damming the valley to provide drinking water for metropolitan Boston.” Heather set her wineglass on the coffee table. She didn’t want to drink too much before she got on the road, especially on an empty stomach. “I love to snowshoe on some of the old Quabbin roads. Why don’t you join me one day, if it’s something that appeals to you?”

“That would be great.” Adrienne seemed genuinely interested. “I don’t know how to cross-country ski, but I can manage snowshoes.”

“I wish I’d had mine while I was chasing Rohan. I should head home. Thanks for the wine.”

“I’ll fetch your dry socks while you pack up.”

Heather thanked her and headed through the dining room and a small hall into the kitchen. Rohan was asleep on his bed in the mudroom. The back door was shut tight, preventing any further mischief on his part.

Vic was at the counter with a cutting board and paring knife. “I’m about to start hors d’oeuvres,” he said. “Adrienne made a list of ingredients, and I found everything on it at the country store in town. They won’t take long to prepare. Brody’s on his way back up. Why don’t you join us?”

Wine and hors d’oeuvres with Vic Scarlatti, Adrienne Portale and Brody Hancock. The idea was at once tempting and impossible. “Thanks, but I have to get back.” Heather grabbed her laptop and measuring tape off the table. “Enjoy.”

“Another time, maybe.”

Adrienne arrived with the fresh wool socks and echoed Vic’s invitation, but Heather didn’t budge. It wasn’t them, she knew. It wasn’t even Brody Hancock as a Diplomatic Security Service agent, back in Knights Bridge. It was herself. She couldn’t pin down what she was feeling, just that she was off—and such uncertainty wasn’t her norm and made her decidedly uncomfortable.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, slipping on the dry socks and her boots.

Vic had the refrigerator door open and was pulling out vegetables and different varieties of local cheese. Adrienne grabbed a knife and a cutting board and smiled. “We’ll save you some for lunch tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Your hors d’oeuvres will be better than anything I bring.”

“What was that you had today?” Vic asked her.

“Leftover lasagna.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That was lasagna?”

Heather laughed. “Now you sound like my brothers. I’ve never been much of a cook.”

“But you’ll build me a great new kitchen,” Vic said.

“In the meantime, we will definitely save you leftovers,” Adrienne added.

Heather thanked them again and headed out, careful not to disturb Rohan as she shut the door softly behind her. With any luck, she’d be on her way before Agent Hancock arrived for wine and hors d’oeuvres.

* * *

Naturally, her truck wouldn’t start.

Heather banged the steering wheel with one hand. Frustration wouldn’t get her anywhere, and she wasn’t wearing gloves. It was dark and her truck—which she’d bought at a deep discount from Eric, her eldest brother—wasn’t in the mood for the late-January cold.

That kind of day was turning into that kind of night.

She climbed out as she debated her options. Before she could decide what to do, she heard the crunch of footsteps on the sanded driveway behind her.

“Of course you drive a truck,” Brody said as he approached her from the guesthouse.

Heather realized right away that her intense reaction to him at the brook hadn’t been a fluke. It wasn’t going anywhere, not tonight, at least. She tried to ignore it.

“I’m in the construction business,” she said. “A truck is practical.”

“And you’re a practical sort.”

“Do I hear skepticism in your voice, Agent Hancock?”

“You went after Rohan with no hat, lousy gloves, lousy boots—”

“Not lousy. They’re actually quite nice gloves and boots. I admit they weren’t the best choice for what I ended up having to do.”

“You’d have been in a mess if you’d fallen out there.”

“I left a trail. Vic or Adrienne would have found me, and, as it turns out, you were on the case, anyway.”

“As tough as any Sloan, aren’t you? Are you ever a girly-girl?”

“I met you three hours ago, and you’re asking me a question like that?”

He grinned. “I didn’t say I expected an answer, and we didn’t meet three hours ago. We met when you were a wild-haired kid in braces.”

“Everyone remembers me as a wild-haired kid in braces. It doesn’t faze me that you’re another one. Now I’m all grown up, and my truck won’t start. I could get one of my brothers out here to help jump-start it.”

“I was hoping to avoid your brothers.”

“A tough guy like you afraid of a few local guys? I don’t believe it.”

“I didn’t say I was afraid.”

His quiet, self-assured tone sent another surge of heat through her. She had to get a grip. Truck, she told herself. Work the problem. She peered down the driveway toward the back road that led into the village. “I could walk,” she said. “It’s not that far, but it’s very cold tonight.”

Brody shook his head. “You’ve already had one go at freezing today. What are the odds Vic has jumper cables?”

“Slim to none.”