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A wildcat snarled in the distance, and magic whispered across his skin. That was no ordinary cat out hunting an evening meal. It was a shapeshifter, hunting them.
He rose to his feet and offered Maddie his hand. She hesitated, then accepted his help, her fingers cold and stiff against his.
“But are you sure about the inn?” she said, studying the dark tree line intently. “The fact that someone tried to kill you right after you checked in suggests the inn is at the heart of the disappearances. Should we risk going back?”
“I think we have to. Someone at the inn obviously does suspect I’m here to find the kids. It might be Hank; it might not. But I’m hoping that my sudden reappearance might force them into action and give us a lead.”
Her gaze flicked past his and settled on some point over his right shoulder. “What if that action is trying to kill you again??
??
He frowned. She was looking at anything and everything but him, and it was beginning to annoy the hell out of him. He might have warned her not to get involved, but he’d never said anything about not looking at him. He liked looking into her eyes, damn it. Liked watching the flow of emotions through their amber depths.
“They won’t attempt it with an inn full of guests.” Or at least, he hoped they wouldn’t.
A gold-red curl had broken loose from her ponytail and flipped across her face. He reached out and tucked it behind her ear, allowing his fingers to trail lightly against her cheek. It was like touching satin.
Her gaze jumped to his, and he saw a flash of fear in her eyes. Not fear of him; fear of herself. He wondered why.
“Don’t,” she said softly.
He took a deep breath, then stepped away. But distance didn’t dampen his sudden desire to touch her. To hold her.
“We should get going,” he said, more abruptly than he’d intended. “I can smell snow in the air.”
She nodded and swung his jacket off her shoulders. He half expected her to hand it back, but she slipped it on instead.
“Lead on, then,” she said.
He smiled and led the way back to the truck.
THE INN FELT LIKE A FURNACE AFTER THE CHILL OF THE night. Maddie quickly stripped off the two coats and handed Jon’s back with a smile of thanks.
“Ah, Miss Smith. So good to see you again.”
She jerked around at the sound of Hank’s voice. He was leaning casually against the banister, his smile warm and lazy. Yet there was nothing casual in the way he watched them.
Maddie swallowed uneasily. “Good evening, Mr. Stewart.”
“Please, call me Hank.” He pushed away from the banister and moved across to the desk. “And I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mix-up in the room bookings. We presumed Mr. Barnett had left and gave you his room.”
“Really?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say without giving away the fact that she knew why there’d been a mix-up.
Jon’s shoulder brushed against hers as he stepped slightly in front of her. It was an oddly protective gesture that warmed the pit of her stomach. His fingers touched hers, and she clasped his hand.
“How unfortunate,” Jon said. He squeezed her fingers gently, his touch warm and reassuring.
Hank’s gaze narrowed slightly. “I’m afraid the inn is fully booked, but we’re willing to arrange other accommodations for you, Mr. Barnett. At the inn’s expense, of course.”
She wondered if the other accommodations would include another nice, damp well.
“Of course.” Jon’s tone was dry. “But I don’t mind bunking down in Maddie’s room for the night. We have a lot to catch up on.”
His lazy grin left little doubt of what they’d be catching up on.
Maddie tried to ignore the heat creeping into her face. Hank had to believe that she and Jon were old lovers catching up, or things could get dangerous. “We certainly do,” she agreed softly.
Hank frowned, and a hint of confusion flickered through his eyes. “Well, then. If it’s okay with Miss Smith, we certainly have no objections.”
