Jagger turned into the lot, pulled into a space and shut off the engine. “Walk or sit here?”

Without a thought I said, “Walk,” while never taking my eyes off the water.

Ian had died in this water.

I got out and stood, holding the door handle while a gust of ocean breeze nearly knocked me over. Jagger was already standing by the cement stairs that led to the beach.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” I said more sarcastically than planned.

“Unfortunately I have to, Sherlock. I have to.” With that he bent down and took off his cowboy boots and socks.

For as much as what he’d just said had me as curious as all get out, I took my socks and shoes off too, set them on the side of the steps and walked into the amazingly warm sand. The sun had baked it all morning, causing an almost sensual feel.

Okay, watching Jagger’s back and…er…lower back-okay, lower than his back-as he walked toward the water might have warmed me down to my toes.

Seagulls swooped down on us as if we were some tasty meal. The damn scavengers were annoying. Occasionally Jagger swatted at the air until they flew off shrieking.

Several times I looked out toward Cliff Walk and as if with zoom-lens eyesight could so clearly see the collection of rocks that Ian had been killed on. I shuddered.

And Jagger’s arm was around me in seconds.

We walked silently, enjoying the ocean, the rhythmic sounds of slamming waves and the salty scent of the Atlantic. Once we reached the end of the beach area below a row of fabulous cottages, Jagger led me to an outcropping of rocks where we both sat.

The warm sun beat down on us. Despite the breeze, the air had warmed enough that my feet never got cold in the sand.

I leaned back to rest my head against the rocks, shut my eyes and let my mind wander.

Of course, with Jagger next to me, my mind headed down “Lust Lane,” but it was damn fun.

Beep. Beep.

Nearly paralyzed from pleasure, I remained still.

“That’s you, Sherlock.”

“Hm? Oh.” I opened my eyes, sat forward and took my phone from my pocket, amazed at how dreamy I felt in this atmosphere. I looked at the caller’s number. “Oh, no.”

“What? Something wrong?” He looked at me with genuine concern.

Such a guy. “I’m not sure. It’s my mother.” I flipped open the phone. “Hi, Mom.”

“Actually it’s Daddy, Pa¸czki.”

“Oh, hey, Daddy. Daddy?” I nearly dropped the phone but Jagger steadied my hand. “Daddy, what is wrong? Uncle Walt? Is something…oh, God, no…something wrong with him. Mother! Why isn’t Mom calling me, Daddy?”

Daddy wasn’t one to talk on the phone. Never had much experience with my mother around. So I could tell he was probably holding the phone wrong and could only hear part of what I was saying.

“Daddy. Why did you call?” I held my breath.

I heard him clear his throat and talk to someone in the background. When I was just about ready to scream at him to tell me what was going on, my mother came on the line, “Pauline, everything is fine. I’m all right. Really-”

“Mother! When someone says all that, there is something wrong. What happened? To whom?”

I said a silent prayer that my uncle was okay since he was the only one I hadn’t heard talking.

“Oh, it is nothing really. I broke my arm. That is all. You have a good weekend.”

“Don’t hang up!” I rolled my eyes, and Jagger stared.

He whispered, “What?”

I held my hand over my cell phone and said, “My mother broke her arm.”

“How’s she going to cook?”

I could only stare back at him. Why on earth would that be the first thing that popped into Jagger’s mind? How rude. Not even an “Is she all right?”

Then again, he heard me talking to her, so he must have figured she wasn’t too bad off. But cooking? Cooking! Oh…my…God. Cooking to Stella Sokol was like breathing.

“Mother, which arm?”

“What does it matter, Pauline? I can hardly do anything with this gigantic thing on my arm. Must weigh a thousand pounds. And who ever heard of a cast in shocking pink? I’m shocked all right. Pink. Ha!”

“Right or left?”

“My cooking arm, Pauline. My right one.”

My mouth dried. Poor Mom. Not only had she gotten hurt somehow, but she also couldn’t do her daily duty that she so loved. “What happened, Mother?”

She proceeded to tell me how she tripped on my darling Spanky! Apparently Miles couldn’t get anyone to watch him, so my mother had volunteered to take care of him-all the while, I’m sure, protesting that she didn’t like dogs.

“They smell like dog,” she’d say.

Before I could apologize, she had me volunteering to come home for the weekend since Goldie really didn’t need me-and she couldn’t cook for Daddy and Uncle Walt.

“I’ll show you how to maneuver around with a cast on, cooking and all,” was the last thing I said.

As I followed Jagger into my parents’ house, I could not believe I was back there and that he’d insisted on driving me. As if I was too upset to drive. Well, having to leave Newport was a bit upsetting, but my folks needed me and thank goodness Mother wasn’t badly injured. All in all, I told myself it wasn’t going to be a bad weekend.

Mother managed to open the door and say, “Thank goodness you two are here. Of course, you’ll both have to stay here to help out. Elderly can do just so much for themselves. Correct?”

Obviously Jagger was holding back a grin while managing, “Correct, Mrs. Sokol,” as he walked into the house and finished with, “and pink goes wonderfully with your outfit.”

I think I groaned since Mother gave me a chastising look, but I know I rolled my eyes. She had on a brown, yellow and white plaid housedress that pink did not go with.

Mr. Jagger had something up his mysterious sleeve. I just knew it.

After I made fried bologna and bacon sandwiches on rye bread-Daddy’s favorite-I made Jagger help clean up. He protested once in the kitchen, but I gave him a look that I thought was close enough to what Stella Sokol would give me if I had been complaining.

Then I dried my hands on the aquamarine towel that hung on the duck’s head near the sink and said, “I think they can all get along for a while. I’m going to check on Spanky and then head over to-”

“I’ll drive you.”

Damn. I had no car, and he’d figured it out just as I had. “Yeah. To the office. I’m going to talk to Adele.”

He merely nodded, and before I knew it we were in the car driving away from hell at 171 David Drive-but knowing I had to come back and make roast pork since it was Thursday and Mother always made it on every Thursday of the week.

I kinda hoped that Jagger would just drop me off and I’d have some free time with Spanky. But he shut the engine off and was at the front door before I was.

“You know, Jagger, I hate that you had to leave your R and R to bring me back here. Wait. I know. I can use my uncle’s car and you can go do…whatever it is you do around here until Sunday night. Then we can drive back to Newport together. So, I’ll see you-”

I’d come up behind him as I was talking, took out my key and had it in the lock before I finished.

Jagger walked right inside.

I hesitated and watched my darling Spanky bark and run up to-Jagger!

The little traitor!

He’d done that before and it didn’t hurt any less right now. How I wished I was back doing my job.

My job. I had to call Adele. Ignoring the two males, I walked inside, shut the door and went to the stairs. Over my shoulder I said, “I’m going to make a few phone calls. You two enjoy.” I tried to have the tone come out very nonchalant, but instead it came out schoolgirl jealous-and by the look on one of the male’s faces, he knew exactly how I felt.

Damn him.

I hurried up the steps and opened the door to my room-and froze. I hadn’t been gone that long, but my room looked different. Not that I could put my finger on what it was, but there was something…the drapes were pulled farther back than I liked them. The bedspread was pulled so taut I knew a coin would bounce to the ceiling fan. And there were no little Spanky indentations on the bed.