Once more in the SUV, the supplies stowed safely in the back, Harm turned and glared at her. “What was that all about?”

“What?”

“First you pay the restaurant check and now you have The Fairy Prince put everything on your tab here.”

“So?”

“So, I’m perfectly capable of paying my own bills.”

Tickled, Elgin giggled.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded.

“You are. That is so typically male.”

“It’s embarrassing,” he responded, his anger rising. “I don’t like being embarrassed. Especially in public places and especially by a woman.”

“You don’t need me to embarrass you,” she told him caustically, “you do a bang-up job of that yourself. Besides, the money you use comes out of the money Sheila’s paying you which comes out of her share of the money I make writing so I don’t see what the difference is.”

“The difference is, what the hell do you suppose people are thinking when they see you paying our bills.”

Elgin’s smile returned. “They think you’re a big, dumb jock, gigolo. The women are green with envy and so, I can assure you, are the men. I can also assure you that Spirit Cove’s grapevine will not lose a moment getting this tasty little piece of gossip on the wire. By tomorrow noon, everyone within fifty miles will know that city lady who writes those dirty books is keeping a man at her place for the summer. Marty will probably have to re-stock my books a dozen times before Labor Day.”

Harm blinked in disbelief. He’d been so concerned with his trap, he hadn’t considered anything else. Of course, that would be the first conclusion people were going to leap to. Calling himself her secretary wouldn’t help. In fact, it sounded lame even to him. People were naturally going to assume…

Oh swell, he thought as he turned the key, what else?

“Get ready to make a right up here,” she pointed. “Just beyond that wooden bus shelter up there you’ll see a sign that says Moon Lake Road. Slow down and be careful or you’ll miss it.”

Harm slowed a bit and watched as the little wooden lean-to loomed on his right. Almost immediately, he saw a row of about ten mailboxes and the asphalt branching off the two-lane road they were on. Nailed to tree, a handmade wooden sign, the white paint faded and peeling, announced, “Moon Lake Road. Private. Slow.”

As they drove, the road dipped gently toward the lake, smaller branches of asphalt and gravel and even dirt leading off.

“There’s a gate across the road up here. Stop so I can get out and open it, please.”

A metal gate materialized from barbed wire on either side of the road. Elgin hopped out, unhooked the gate and walked it to the side of the road. With Harm through, she closed it and got back in the SUV.

Another quarter of a mile and around a sharp bend. The road ended in a large open space. Just beyond, the lake shimmered like dark blue glass, the pine trees growing almost to its edge.

“Well, this is it.”

“Your friend called it ‘a shack,’” Harm commented, looking around at the beautiful setting and rustic house up a short stone path from where they were parked.

“Sheila thinks anything smaller than the White House and decorated less lavishly than Buckingham Palace is a ‘shack,’” she laughed.

They moved to the back of the SUV to start unloading.

“Actually, it was built as a honeymoon cottage and summer retreat in the Thirties. They were just about the first people to build up here. They named it ‘Moon’s End.’ Named the road too. Loved the place so much, they paid a fortune to run a sewer line down from the road all the way here so they wouldn’t be flushing into the lake. Come on, let me show you around.”

Boots crunching on the gravel, they went up two small steps to the broad, green shingled porch, much like the one in front of the grocery store except that instead of vending machines and rockers, there was only an old wooden porch swing, hanging from the roof by two hardy- looking chains. The clapboard siding that covered the two-story building had weathered down, not to a chilly gray but a warm coffee brown. Above the rough-hewn door, a smiling Man-in-the-Moon gazed down on them, “Moon’s End,” carved below it.

“I called the propane company about two weeks ago,” Elgin told him as she fumbled with the key and her grocery box. “They assured me they’d fill the tank before we arrived and put us on their weekly route but we better make sure, just the same. Their driver, Les, has a special little truck he drives to the really out-of-the-way places like this where they can’t get in with the big truck. Of course, they charge an arm and a leg for this ‘extra service,’ but until someone gets around to running gas and/or electricity up here, they know they’ve got us over a barrel.”

Pushing down the big, old-fashioned metal handle with her thumb, Elgin pushed the door open wide and stepped in as Harm followed.

He let out a long, low whistle of approval as his head swiveled in all directions. Prepared for a one room wooden cabin with a dirt floor, the reality literally bowled him over. The main room where they stood was big, at least fifty by fifty he guessed. Windows took up most of the wall to his left, blinds covered by lacy sheer curtains covering them. In the corner, a floor to ceiling rock fireplace loomed over the room, a hearth tall enough to sit comfortably on and an opening big enough to roast a pig in. Before it sat a simple wood frame and dark blue cushion sofa, simple end tables and matching pine coffee table. Glass doors made up the rest of the wall, opening he could see to a broad wooden deck facing out on the lake which filled the view like a living mural. To his right, an open kitchen and small dining table. Just off the door, narrow wooden steps ascended to the second floor.

Elgin grinned as they moved to the kitchen and set down their boxes. “I’m glad you approve.”

“It’s…it’s beautiful.”

“Let’s get the bags and I’ll show you the upstairs.”

With their luggage retrieved from the SUV, Elgin led the way. Six steps rose steeply up the well, making a sharp left turn at a slightly larger landing and six more, equally steep steps, put them in a hall running the length of the building.

“This is the master suite,” she said, pushing open the door. It took up at least half the upper floor, a huge four-poster bed dominating the room. A wall of windows looked out over the lake and trees.

With a grunt, she dropped her bags on the floor by the bed, carefully laying her laptop on the plump patchwork quilt. “There are two bathrooms which is nice. You’re over here.”

Directly across the hall, she opened a second door and stood aside for him. Not much smaller than the master suite, the only difference he could see, the scale of the furniture and that his windows looked back on the pine forests instead of the lake.

“Bathroom’s through there,” she nodded to a closed door on the right. “No closets but the wardrobe and bureau should give you all the room you need. House’s been closed up since last year but everything, including the linen should be clean. If you need anything, give me a holler.”

“Thanks.”

Elgin turned to leave, pausing at the door.

“Oh, and in case you’re wondering,” she grinned maliciously, pointing her index finger straight down, “both bedroom doors are very sturdy and bolt from the inside. See you downstairs.”

Funny, he thought as he dropped his two bags on the bed, when she wasn’t being a total bitch, Elgin Collier wasn’t too bad to be around.

Unzipping the larger of his two bags, the first things Harm retrieved were his cell phone and holstered automatic. He punched the “on” button, afraid for a moment that the isolated area might have cut off the signal. But the screen came almost instantly to life. By now, the GPS beacon had told his people they were stopped. Later tonight, he’d call and set up a regular schedule of check-in times and begin the flow of necessary information. He already had one name to be checked on, Martin Van Scoyk, and there would undoubtedly be others.