Chapter Two
Tess sat up and tried to orient herself.
The cats had just awakened her when they’d suddenly jumped off the bed.
She was at Flo’s Tahoe cabin. God, a memory of the last time she’d been in this bed flashed through her mind—when she was recovering from the gunshot wound.
She touched the scar, then remembered that it had healed, and she was here now for some vacation time.
The bedside clock declared it was fifteen minutes until midnight.
Tess relaxed back into the mattress, but then she heard the noise that must have alerted the cats.
Someone was out in the great room area. Her heart leapt into her throat.
She’d spent too many years in the criminal courtroom, exposed to the stories that grew out of situations like this, not to be alarmed.
Tess looked for a weapon. The lamp would be unwieldy and was plugged in behind the bed.
She finally settled on a three-foot two-by-four that had been tucked behind the bedroom door.
She hoisted it over her shoulder and crept out toward the unfamiliar noise.
As she approached, Tess could hear talking.
“Well, aren’t you a beauty. And look here, you’ve got a pal.
But what are you two up to, bumming it out here in the wilderness?
” The voice was female, warm-toned in an alto timbre, with a hint of delight infused in her initial reaction to the cats before concern slipped in when she thought they might be abandoned.
Tess stood and took in the intruder. Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail.
Flawless skin. Clear blue eyes. Full lips that held Tess’s attention for too long.
Fortyish. And a nice build in tight jeans and an ivory-hued sweater she filled out more than adequately as she leaned down to pet Louise.
She certainly didn’t have the appearance or demeanor of someone who had broken in.
The gray tabby had no reservations. Louise leaned into the encroacher’s legs and pushed against the stroke of her hand as Thelma waited her turn. Tess decided to accept the cats’ lead that the trespasser wasn’t a significant felonious threat. She cleared her throat.
The woman jerked up straight, and her startled eyes studied Tess in confusion.
Clearly, they didn’t know each other. Tess suspected her own presentation offered an interesting mix of elements to be deciphered by the midnight prowler.
She was barefoot and wore sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt.
She’d cleansed her face of all makeup, and her hair hung loose.
But probably most intimidating was the wooden weapon slung over her shoulder.
After she reflected on the disheveled image she certainly portrayed, a flash of rebellious humor mixed with memories of constant maternal admonishment hit Tess—her deceased mother would be mortified.
She’d raised Tess to never be caught with her pants down, which translated to mean perfection.
Never be less than fully presentable. Never—not even in a cabin in the woods on vacation in the middle of the night with an unexpected stranger.
Well, she wasn’t exactly on vacation with a stranger.
Just with two cats that she doubted her mother would have approved of either.
“Breaking and entering is a crime.” Tess cocked an eyebrow as she stood her ground.
“Only if that’s what a person actually did. Is that what you did?” There was a discernible touch of amusement mixed with a challenge in the intruder’s eyes. Extremely attractive eyes that sparked with vitality as they engaged Tess.
Tess looked away for a moment. She needed to hide the flicker of unwelcome interest she felt. That dance with death had knocked her off her game, threatened the carefully constructed persona that protected her. It was the persona she employed with almost everyone. Especially people she didn’t know.
Tess gazed back. The woman seemed to have concluded that Tess posed no physical danger, even with the two-by-four, but she obviously hadn’t fully accepted that Tess belonged here either.
“I have a key,” Tess informed her. “Do you?”
The woman reached into her jeans pocket and extracted a key on a ring with a Lake Tahoe shaped charm.
And the door certainly didn’t look like it had been damaged.
If this wasn’t a break-in, what had Flo done?
Was this a case of Flo’s extended family mistakenly oversharing the cabin, or maybe it was Flo trying do some matchmaking.
Tess wouldn’t put it past her. She needed some answers.
“Who do you think owns this place?” the intruder asked.
“My friend’s husband. It belongs to his Uncle Joe. You obviously didn’t break in. But entering is still a potential charge. How do you plead to that?” Tess was almost enjoying herself, but she wasn’t going to let on.
The woman rolled her eyes. “Guilty as sin. I’m standing right here inside, aren’t I?”
“And who gave you the key?” Tess heard herself sounding like the prosecutor she once was.
She’d retired that voice for her more neutral judicial tone over six years ago when she’d been elected to the bench and accepted impartiality in place of advocating for clients.
She needed to remain open-minded, even if this woman threw her off her game.
But she had a right to be wary, she reminded herself.
They’d never caught the scumbag who’d shot her.
“I’m Bree. My sister-in-law, Rachelle…her father owns the place. Joe. Your turn to present your defense.” Bree had the audacity to smirk.
“Flo—she’s my best friend…” Tess wasn’t going to tell her that Flo was her only true friend, aside from her aunt.
“As I said, the cabin belongs to her husband’s uncle.
So I’d say the evidence suggests that maybe it’s the same Joe.
Unless you just made up this sister-in-law’s dad, Joe, after I mentioned Flo’s husband’s Uncle Joe.
” Tess kicked herself for so thoughtlessly having given up that piece of information. The woman was disconcerting.
Bree, her name was Bree.
“You’ve either got trust issues or the pathology of a prosecutor, just looking for whatever scenario will support your position. I’d like to suggest that maybe my sister-in-law and your friend failed to communicate.” Bree stared at her.
Bree was likely correct about the lack of communication because it all made sense. But that other comment irritated Tess. “Do you have an issue with lawyers?”
Okay, while she wasn’t going to admit it openly, Tess had to silently concede that sometimes prosecutors could come across as rather ardent in the execution of their duties.
She’d like to think of it as simply focused on the mission they’d been charged with accomplishing.
From her current position, she knew that the roles of both the prosecution and defense were essential in a credible justice system.
Bree muttered, “Do I have an issue with lawyers? No, just with someone who passes judgment without all the facts.”
“I was trying to establish those facts.” Tess tamped down her rising aggravation and schooled the signs of annoyance that she knew had seeped into her demeanor back to a show of calm.
She was practiced in not revealing her feelings, and she needed to employ that proficiency now.
Even if this Bree person did have a point, Tess didn’t need to let her get under her skin, and she certainly didn’t need to reveal her own emotions.
It was only with Flo and her aunt that Tess allowed herself the luxury of being the unrestrained Tess.
Most everyone else saw some version of the tightly managed guardedness of Theresa Fairchild.
And yet here she was, for some reason letting Bree, someone she’d never met before, push all her buttons. She didn’t know why. She’d have to blame the late hour and the shock of the intrusion.
It was after midnight now. Louise yawned and then followed Thelma back into the bedroom.
Tess watched the two felines. Bree’s story made sense.
Besides, she was a fairly decent judge of character.
The most likely scenario made both of them victims. But hell no, she didn’t want to share the cabin with some contentious stranger. Even if Bree was undeniably beautiful.
She could lock the bedroom door, and she had a three-foot stick of lumber. Tess also had a couple of way-too-friendly watch cats…and the hope that because she’d dodged death once, she’d make it through the night.
“It’s really late. I’m exhausted. I have the only bed, and I’m not relinquishing it.” Tess tried to sound as no-nonsense as she could muster. “You can leave or sleep on the couch.” She didn’t want there to be any leeway for bedroom negotiations.
Bree looked over at the couch, and Tess followed her gaze.
It was ancient. The orangish fabric was severely worn in spots, white filler showed along places in the piping, but worst of all, the topography of each of the three seat cushions undulated in a fashion that could be reduced to the descriptive term lumpy.
Extremely lumpy. Definitely a candidate for replacement.
Bree turned back to Tess. “And tomorrow night—will it be your turn for the couch, princess?” She raised her eyebrows.
Princess. Tess couldn’t decide whether to laugh out loud or be totally offended.
Boundaries were being bulldozed that hadn’t been crossed in decades, if ever.
She needed to keep whatever escalation Bree was causing to both her temper and her libido out of her tone.
“I’m no princess. How about queen bee to you?
” Tess clenched her jaw. Had she really just said that?
She couldn’t let Bree get to her. She had no intention of relinquishing her claim to the bed. She cleared her throat. “It’s Tess.”
Bree studied her and finally nodded. “See you in the morning then…Tess. But maybe I’ll still call you Your Majesty.”