While she’d succeeded at taking time away from Jeremiah, she only wished she’d been as successful at putting a stop to thoughts of him. At that, she’d utterly failed. And now—today, ready or not—she was about to see him again. Thus, she was emotionally girded for battle.
After letting herself through Appleton's gate with the code Jeremiah had supplied, she parked outside his garage and stepped from her rental car. She was immediately assailed by the beauty all around. The calendar read October fifth and Down East fall was at its finest. Tourists flocked here at this time of year with good reason. The sixty-degree air sang crystal clear. The pale blue sky stretched endlessly. The foliage blazed color. And all of that was emphasized by the charm of Jeremiah’s property—his woods, the old house, the sweeping view down to the ocean.
Pushing her hands into her pockets, she stayed right where she was—internalizing the glorious weather, using it to steady herself.
The connection between herself and Jeremiah was becoming more complex and dangerous. Complex because of the mystery of Alexis. Dangerous because of the rising physical chemistry she felt for him.
When they’d found proof on Sunday that Alexis had been unfaithful, the story Remy had invented regarding Alexis had cracked. She could make the stories in her head more real than reality. She could make those fair, and noble, and inspiring. She didn’t like having to acknowledge that one of her stories was broken beyond repair. And she was struggling to accept Actual Alexis because she’d liked Fictional Alexis so much better.
In truth, she felt personally betrayed by Jeremiah’s wife. Which was ridiculous. She and Alexis hadn’t known each other. Alexis owed her nothing. Alexis had died young and potentially not of her own will so Remy should feel compassion toward her. And she did! It’s just that . . . Remy valued honor. Alexis might not have had any of that. Which left Remy feeling let down by the woman she’d worked so hard to find for Jeremiah’s sake.
As for the Duke himself . . . he’d been texting and calling her the past few days, asking for her assistance finding answers. She’d put him off. Turned out, though, it was genetically impossible for her to permanently ignore someone in need of her help.
“Hey.” Jeremiah’s voice drifted to her from behind.
Pleasure slid over her like liquid chocolate over ice cream.
She wished she could keep him at arm’s length the way she’d done on Islehaven. That was no longer so easy. He was drawing frighteningly close to her gun-shy heart.
ChapterThirteen
Remy angled toward him. She’d chosen some of her better clothes today—wide-legged white pants and a button-up denim shirt knotted at the waist. But he effortlessly made her attempt at dressing well seem pitiful.
Jeremiah approached wearing a burgundy shirt and dark jeans. His cheeks remained clean-shaven. His hair, which had been perfectly trimmed back when they’d met, was now overlong and rumpled. It was equally sexy both ways.
He’d told her,“I’m healing fast now,”the last time she’d seen him. The truth of that was impossible to miss. He still moved more carefully and slowly than other men of his age and fitness. But he was reclaiming more of his strength and health every time she saw him.
“I was working on the cars in the garage,” he said. “I heard you drive up.”
“Ah. Did your valet not answer the call of the bell when you rang for him to work on the cars?”
“Nope.” He made a study of her face, his gaze appreciative.
Her skin prickled with warm sensitivity in response.
“I missed you,” he said.
“What? No. You’re not allowed to say that.”
He shrugged, unconcerned in the face of her scolding. “It’s the truth, Remy. I missed you.”
He was wrong-footing her right off the bat, the villain. “So! I’m here to help out. Explain more fully than you did over text what our goal is today.”
He mimicked her body language, hands in his pockets. “I spoke with the PI, Fred Kimley, and the detective, Phillip Holland. The detective is with Groomsport PD and he’s the one who investigated Alexis’s death. Apparently, 1.0 met with him three months ago to share suspicions about her cause of death. According to Holland, he told me then that he'd need additional evidence before they’d have a reason to move away from the medical examiner’s ruling of suicide.”
“What kind of evidence is he wanting?”
“Signs of a struggle. Fingerprints. Motive. Proof that someone had threatened her life.”
What chance did she and Jeremiah have of unearthing evidence like that fifteen months after Alexis’s fall?
“He said,” Jeremiah continued, “that families of people who take their own lives sometimes invent theories to explain how it could have been anything other than suicide. Holland thought that’s what was going on with 1.0.”
“And the PI?”
“I called him around the same time that I met with the detective. 1.0 asked Kimley for advice regarding how to go about my own investigation.”
“What did he suggest?”
