She met Hank’s dark gaze. There was no way on earth she’d take a room by herself with him around, anyway. There was something in his eyes that made her feel ill—a hint of depravity and menace, and something else she just couldn’t name.
“Good,” she said levelly. Though she wasn’t entirely sure spending several nights alone with Jon was a much better option. In some ways, it certainly wasn’t any safer.
“Oh, and my luggage?” Jon added. “I gather it’s been stored, so if you could have it delivered, I’d appreciate it.”
“Sure.” Hank gave them a smile she didn’t trust. “It’s something of a tradition at the inn to invite all our guests for Sunday dinner. Would you care to join us?”
She opened her mouth to say no, but stopped when Jon squeezed her fingers again. She frowned up at him. How did the man know what she was about to say before she said it?
“I think we can spare an hour or so,” he said, then gave her a quick smile that was intimate and intense. Her heart skipped several beats, even though she knew it was all an act for Hank’s sake.
“We’ve had quite a busy day,” he continued, his tone suggesting they’d done more than merely walk around. “I, for one, am famished.”
Hank raised an eyebrow. It was hard to see whether he believed their act or not. “Well then, please join us. The rest of our guests will be present, so it’ll be a good opportunity for everyone to meet.”
She could think of nothing worse than a room full of strangers. Especially if Hank was going to be one of them.
“Thanks.” Jon raised her hand to his lips, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Shall we go get ready, my dear?” he said, and lightly kissed her fingers.
Heat shivered through her soul and she glared at him. This wasn’t a game she wanted to play. It was far too dangerous to flirt with a man like Jon. Flirting could lead to caring, and that was something he’d already warned her against.
Still, for Hank to believe they’d once been lovers, she had to do more than simply stand there like a fool.
“Been ready for a while,” she said softly and arched forward, brushing a kiss across his lips.
Lips that were soft and warm and so inviting that she didn’t want to leave.
But it was only a game, and Hank was watching.
She pulled away. Jon touched her cheek, the amusement in his eyes suddenly replaced by a warmth that made her breath catch in her throat. Damn, she thought. I should have learned by now that it’s dangerous to play with fire.
She cleared her throat and quickly turned, heading for the stairs.
When they’d reached the safety of their room, she turned around to confront him. And made sure she kept a good deal of distance between them.
“Why on earth did you accept his dinner invitation?”
Jon threw his jacket over the back of the sofa before sitting down. “We need answers, and we’re not going to find them hiding in our room. Besides, unless all the other guests are in on it too, there’ll be no place safer and more public.”
She leaned back against the table and rubbed her arms. The room was cold, which was no surprise given that the fire was little more than ashes. “Still, how is going to dinner with strangers going to help us?”
He studied her for a moment, then rose and walked across to the fire. “Because I’m betting one of the guests will be the woman Hank met in the café.”
He threw several small logs on the fire and stabbed the coals with the poker. In the firelight, flickers of gold appeared to run through his hair as it dropped across his eyes.
Maddie crossed her arms and stayed where she was. Cold or not, she didn’t want Jon to think her brief flirtation was anything more than a game staged for Hank’s benefit. She didn’t want him to think she would be willing to continue once they were alone. Especially when she could still taste him on her lips.
“What will you do if she is there?”
He glanced up at her. “I will apply my many charms and see what happens.”
She raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You’re going to flirt with her? After the show we just put on?”
“Basically, yes.” He studied her for a moment. “I’m not sure that Hank bought the act anyway, and Eleanor is the key to this whole situation. Besides, maybe he’ll think I’m after nothing more than another conquest.”
Another conquest. Somehow the words seemed to roll so easily off his tongue. Was that how he lived his life, seeing women as nothing more than prizes to be won? Then she frowned. “Who is Eleanor?”
“Eleanor Dumaresq. Blond hair, dark eyes. She was more than likely at the café with Hank.”