“The Logan place,” she said shortly. “The family that owns the hotel.”
“It looked empty.”
“They don’t live here anymore. They rent it out now and then during the season. Why do you care?”
“First, because it’s a beautiful spot and an appealing old house. Next, because I got particularly strong readings in that area.” He watched Ripley’s gaze flick to her brother’s face, hold a moment. “I haven’t heard much about the Logans. They show up in my research, of course, but no one has much to say about them in the village. How long since any of the family lived in the house?”
“More than ten years,” Zack answered when Ripley remained silent. “Mr. Logan, or one of his representatives, comes back now and then to look things over, but they stay at the hotel.”
“Shame to let a beautiful house like that sit empty. Is it haunted?”
Zack’s lips twitched at the muttered rumble his sister made. “Not that I know of.”
“Too bad.” And he meant it. “How about the cave? I got the strongest readings there.”
“The cave’s a cave,” Ripley shot. There was a little twist in her heart, and it annoyed her.
“We used it as boys,” Zack began. “To play pirate and hunt for treasure. Teenagers have been known to treat it as a kind of lovers’ lane.” He stopped abruptly as it struck home.
Sam Logan, and Mia. They’d been teenagers once, and the cave would surely have been theirs. One look at his sister’s face told him she’d known. And was trying to protect a childhood friend’s privacy.
“Wouldn’t surprise me if your equipment’s picking up on all those hormones,” Zack said cheerfully. “What’s for dessert, honey?”
At sea, Nell rose. “I’ll get it. Ripley, mind giving me a hand?”
“No, fine. Sure.” Annoyed, Ripley pushed away from the table and stalked into the kitchen.
“What is it?” Nell demanded. “What don’t you want to say about the Logan place?”
“It’s just an old house.”
“Ripley, I can’t help if I’m in the dark.”
With her hands in her pockets, Ripley paced the kitchen. “Sam and Mia—they were a major item.”
“I know that much. He left, and hasn’t been back. It still hurts her.”
“Yeah, well, she ought to get the hell over it.” With a sigh, Ripley bent down to stroke Diego the cat. “They were lovers. Mia and I, we were still . . . we were friends. We knew everything about each other. The first time she was with Sam, the first time they were together, was in the cave. It was one of their meeting places.”
“I see.”
“It’s still a raw spot with her, and she doesn’t need some jerk asking questions and taking energy readings.?
?
“Ripley, don’t you think if Mac knew he’d be less likely to rub against that sore spot?”
“I don’t know what to think about him.” Disgusted, Ripley straightened. “One minute he’s a nice guy, and the next he’s trying to wheedle data out of you over your own pot roast. He’s got no business coming here as a guest and pressuring you and Zack.”
“I didn’t feel pressured.” Nell took a Boston cream pie out of the refrigerator. “I’m sorry it upsets you, Ripley, but I’ve already decided to talk to Mac. I’m interested in his work, and I’m interested in contributing to it.”
“You want to be one of his lab rats?”
“I don’t feel that way. I’m not ashamed of what I am, and I’m not afraid of what I’ve been given. Not anymore.”
“You think I’m afraid?” Ripley’s temper flared. “That’s bullshit. As big a pile of bullshit as this idiotic project of his. I don’t want anything to do with it. I’ve got to get out of here.”
She turned on her heel and shoved out the back door.
She couldn’t think,but she knew she needed to walk off the anger before she said or did anything regrettable. Nell’s business was Nell’s business, she tried to tell herself as she jogged down the beach steps in the pearl glow of moonlight. And if Nell wanted to make an exhibition of herself, expose herself to gossip, to ridicule, to God knew what, she was entitled to do so.
“In a pig’s eye,” Ripley called out, kicking at sand as she hit the beach.
What Nell said or did had a direct link to her. There was no avoiding it. Not only because they were related by marriage, but because they were connected.
And that son of a bitch MacAllister Booke knew it.
He was using her to get to Nell, using Nell to get to her. She’d been stupid to let her guard down these past few weeks. Stupid. And there was little she hated more than realizing she’d been a fool.
At the barking behind her she turned, just as the big black shape leaped out of the dark. Lucy’s exuberance knocked Ripley on her butt.
“Damn it, Lucy!”
“Are you hurt? Are you okay?” Mac rushed up behind the dog, started to lift Ripley to her feet.
“Get off me.”
“You’re freezing. What the hell’s wrong with you, running out without a coat? Here.” Even as she slapped at his hands, he bundled her into the jacket Nell had given him.
“Fine. You’ve done your good deed. Now beat it.”
“Your brother and Nell are probably used to your spontaneous displays of rudeness.” He heard the scolding tone of his own voice, but the closed and stubborn look on her face told him that she deserved it. “However, I’d like an explanation.”
“Rude?” She used both hands to shove him back two full steps. “You’ve got the nerve to call me rude after that interrogation at dinner?”
“I recall a conversation at dinner, not an interrogation. Just hold on.” He grabbed her arms as Lucy, wanting to play, wiggled between them. “You don’t want to talk to me about my work, and I haven’t pressed you. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to talk to anybody else.”
“You hook Nell, and you know it’s going to involve me. You talked to Lulu, and you damn well asked her questions about me.”
“Ripley.” Patience, he warned himself. She wasn’t just angry, she was scared. “I never said I wouldn’t ask questions. I’m just not asking you. If you want control of what involves you, then talk to me. Otherwise, I have to use what I get secondhand.”