By Hook or By Crook Read online

  “Well,” she began cautiously, “you know, it explains why you don’t understand how I feel about my sister.”

  “And how do you feel about your sister, in your opinion?” The glint in his eye sharpened. That wasn’t a good thing.

  She had hit a sore spot, without a doubt. Ivy considered her answer for a moment. “Protective, I guess. I’m the big sister. It’s my job to watch out for her.”

  “Yeah, if she’s ten, I would agree with you,” he said, resuming his work with the tensioner. “But your sister is an adult, capable of making her own decisions. And even if she isn’t, it’s not your problem.”

  “So you think I ought to let her go ahead and ruin her life?”

  “If that’s what she wants, yeah. Besides, who says you have all the answers? Do you have such a perfect life that you can afford to tell everyone else how to live?”

  Ivy’s eyes narrowed. Her defensiveness flared into fury in an instant.

  “I didn’t say I had all the answers. But I know the wrong answer when I see it, and Pock is wrong for my sister.” About this, she knew she was right.

  “Whatever you say. Right now, your father is paying me to find her, and that’s what I’m going to do. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “So you’ll do anything for money, regardless of whether it’s right?” she needled. She didn’t much care if her attack was mean-spirited. Tired of being painted as her father’s lackey, she went on the offensive.

  He finished tightening the chain and straightened, pinning her with a hostile glare. “Get back in the Jeep. I’ll finish up. Wouldn’t want the princess to get her hands dirty.”

  “Princess?” she echoed. Absurdly, the jab hurt. Why should she care what her father’s hired hand thought? “What’s that supposed to mean?” She’d been working her rear off, helping him change these tires. Where did he get off calling her a princess?

  “You can’t see why your sister might want someone who doesn’t wear Brooks Brothers suits or didn’t go to Princeton? Your sister is not you.”

  “Believe me, I’m well aware that my sister and I have little in common,” she said with heat.

  “And it drives you crazy, doesn’t it? Haven’t you ever wanted to do something even though it wasn’t the logical, safe choice?” He flung out one arm and stepped closer. “Haven’t you ever spent the night out on the town even though you had a research paper to write? Haven’t you ever had too much to drink and made a fool of yourself, or gone home with a guy you just met? Haven’t you ever wanted the wrong guy?”

  His last words hung in the cold mountain air, the silence overwhelming. The thick blanket of snow that covered everything muffled even the sound of the wind. Somewhere in the silence, a hawk cried.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, looking right in his eyes. “I have wanted the wrong guy. That’s why I don’t want Daisy to make the same mistake.” She’d been thinking of Daniel, but her words came out as a warning as well as an admission, revealing something she hadn’t even acknowledged to herself. She wouldn’t fall for the wrong guy again. She’d given him notice.

  Her response seemed to take the wind out of his sails. His furious expression softened, and he stretched out a hand, almost beseeching. After a long moment, Ivy’s gaze shifted to the ground.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” Joe began. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s all right.” She rubbed her hands against her upper arms, trying to keep warm in the frigid air. The admission left her feeling hollow. She had lost control. He could have used it against her, or bludgeoned her over the head with her weakness. Instead, he’d apologized. “I’ll get in the Jeep.”

  She climbed inside and shut the door, trying not to think about what memories Joe’s words had unknowingly invoked. Daniel and the heartbreak he had caused her. Instead, she watched fat, damp snowflakes blanket the windshield and windows, dimming the interior by degrees.

  Chapter 4

  Back behind the wheel, Joe didn’t feel like he could let her cryptic comment lie, but the roads were challenging. Even with the tire chains, coping with the poor traction and low visibility took all of his concentration.

  They had been on the road fifteen minutes when he finally spoke. “Tell me about the guy.”

  “Why? Are you my therapist?” she asked, staring steadfastly out the window.

  “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.” When she didn’t answer, he sighed. “Look, we’re alone in the boondocks. Nothing else to do. We might as well talk. Come on, spill it.”

  She shrugged, as if it didn’t much matter. “In college, I met this guy who attended the University of Chicago on a scholarship. I, of course, was not on scholarship,” she added with a touch of irony. “The funny thing was, Dad insisted I go to U of C because it was nearby and private. He could keep an eye on me, and, of course, I would come into contact with only the ‘right’ kind of people. Being eighteen, of course, I soon decided that I would seek out almost exclusively the ‘wrong’ kind of people.”

  “Do the ‘wrong’ kind of people attend the University of Chicago?” he asked.

  If Ivy thought a scholarship kid at an exclusive private school was the “wrong” kind of person, God forbid if she ever ran into some of the crooks, liars, idlers, and assorted thugs he encountered on a daily basis. Hell, he realized with a jolt, her definition of the “wrong” kind of guy probably fit him, too.

  Ivy laughed. “Point taken. I’m sure my father didn’t think of Daniel as he would a homeless person or a criminal, but he still didn’t want me to date him. Daniel was a couple of years ahead of me and had a part-time job tending bar. He wasn’t a double legacy Phi Gamma Delta, and his family didn’t belong to any country clubs. Not the kind of guy Daddy wanted his little girl hanging around.”

  Joe dared to take his eyes off the road for a microsecond. Her tousled hair, damp from the melting snow, fell around her shoulders in a beautiful mess. It didn’t blunt the spike of attraction he felt every time he looked at her. He couldn’t tamp down a bit of jealousy at hearing her talk about the college boyfriend who had known her when she was young and vulnerable, more open than the woman who sat beside him now wearing distrust like a suit of armor.

  “So he was irresistible, of course,” he guessed.

  “Of course,” she said lightly. “I’m not totally devoid of rebellious impulses, you know.”

  He decided to let that one pass as he negotiated a sharp curve. They were getting high up in the mountains now—his ears had been popping for ten minutes.

  “I take it this rebellious impulse didn’t work out well?”

  “To say the least. I fell pretty hard for him—we were each other’s first love.” The memory still hurt—he could tell that without a doubt. “I thought we’d get married. We were engaged, but we hadn’t set a date or anything. Then he graduated and asked me to ask my father to give him a job at Smithson Commercial Real Estate.”

  He waited for her to go on, and when she didn’t, he prodded. “And that bugged you?”

  “Not so much. It was his reaction when my dad said no that concerned me.” Her tone was so dry, he could tell she’d been more than merely “concerned,” but he supposed all Smithsons favored understatement.

  He didn’t speak for a moment, occupied in navigating another treacherous curve. When the road straightened out, he shot her a quick look. “And how did Daniel react?”

  “With petulance, to say the least. We argued. He said a lot of nasty things.” She waved a hand as if to pretend the whole thing wasn’t worth going into, but it clearly had affected her. Hell, it still seemed to be affecting her. “It became pretty obvious that my father’s money and connections were a big part of why he wanted to marry me.”

  “Maybe he really loved you,” Joe offered. He didn’t know why he was defending the bastard. Maybe playing devil’s advocate just came naturally to him.

  “If he did, he had an odd way of showing it. When my father refused to help him, he acted like he’d been cheat
ed. He hung around for a while, thinking my dad would relent. He obviously didn’t know my father. When he saw the writing on the wall, he broke it off.”

  “Bet that made Dad happy,” he guessed.

  “You have no idea.”

  She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t ask her to. Smithson didn’t like to lose, and Joe doubted he had been above saying, “I told you so.”

  “Just because it didn’t work out once, you know, is no reason to give up on men forever.”

  He wondered at the words even as they came out of his mouth. What did he care if she didn’t date? His idea of a relationship lately was maybe taking a girl out for breakfast after they’d gone home together, and dropping her back off at the bar to get her car. A good time had always been good enough for him, so who was he to tell someone else how to live their life?

  “I have not given up on men forever,” she said, sounding offended. “I’ve given up on the wrong kind.”

  “And what is the wrong kind?”

  “Men who want me only for what my father can do for them, or for my inheritance.”

  “I can’t argue with that, but how can you tell when a man wants you for your money?”

  His hand tightened on the wheel as he felt the tires slipping badly. Temperatures at lower altitudes had hovered around freezing, and the snow had been wet and slushy. As they moved higher into the mountains, the wet snow gave way to treacherous ice. He wondered how long they’d be able to go on. He didn’t particularly want to get into the implications of that with Ivy unless he had to, so he kept her talking. Relating her own personal heartbreak had one upside—she didn’t notice how awful the conditions were getting.

  “If he doesn’t have any money of his own, it’s a pretty good sign he wants mine.”

  “Hold on, wait a minute,” he objected with a frown. “You’re saying that you’ll only date men with money because everybody else is out for your inheritance? That’s crazy.”

  “No, it’s not.” The diamond-hard edge in her voice could cut glass. Good. She was mad. He could deal with her anger. He didn’t like her sadness. It stirred all kinds of protective feelings that made him uncomfortable. “It doesn’t make any sense for me to date men outside of my circle. I’ve seen a man’s eyes light up when he finds out who my dad is. It’s not a pleasant feeling.”

  “Maybe not, but look at it this way. Your dad has a crap-load of money. If you only date people in your tax bracket, you’re limiting yourself tremendously. It’s hard enough to find the right person when you’re open-minded. If you rule out right away ninety-nine out of a hundred guys you meet, you’re asking to end up alone. Or worse yet, to end up with some rich idiot who just wants a trophy wife.”

  She scoffed. “Hardly. I’m not trophy wife material. I only want to be with someone I have something in common with. Is that so wrong?”

  “Maybe your bank balance shouldn’t be the only thing you and your future husband have in common.”

  She shifted in her seat. “Oh, I can hardly wait to hear your advice on marriage.” She waved a hand in the direction of his bare ring finger on the steering wheel. “You’re not married, right? And unless I miss my guess, you probably aren’t even in a relationship, hmmmm?”

  “Yeah, well. I’m actually kind of between relationships right now.”

  “So I thought,” she scoffed. “So who are you to give advice? Open-minded? If you are completely open to any woman you meet and still haven’t found The One yet, what kind of an endorsement are you for your own advice?”

  When she got annoyed, her hauteur fell away, and she seemed...more like a regular person, not a princess. The aura of remoteness that she often wore had vanished—he had her full attention now. True, she was focused on being royally pissed at him and delivering a full-throated smackdown, but still. He had to admit it was kind of sexy.

  Needing to concentrate more than ever on the miserable road conditions, he shrugged. “Suit yourself. You can do whatever you like. But you’re wrong about at least one thing.”

  “Which is?”

  He pulled his eyes away from the road for as long as he could safely manage and drank her in. “You are totally trophy-wife material. And I mean that in the best possible way.”

  Chapter 5

  Ivy thought about his words for a long time. Why did it make her so happy to hear this totally inappropriate guy—a guy with whom she had nothing in common—call her trophy wife material? She didn’t know, but it did. For once, she should stop analyzing and just enjoy the praise. The glow lasted for a while, until the rapidly worsening weather dissipated it.

  All Joe’s attention focused on the road to follow its myriad twists and turns in the dreadful conditions. The gathering snow had long since obscured the yellow lines, and he slowed the Jeep to a crawl—to make sure he stayed on the road, he muttered.

  Despite the chains, the tires slipped again and again as they struggled for purchase on the pavement. She kept silent, determined not to distract him, but when a fierce gust made the Jeep skid as they went around a tight curve, she couldn’t suppress a gasp. The Jeep’s wheels slipped and slid before he finally regained control of the vehicle. After he slowed to a shuddering halt, he looked at her.

  “You okay?”

  No.

  She took a deep breath. Stop being such a wimp. She nodded. “Is it safe for us to keep driving in this?”

  “Probably not,” he said as he eased his foot off the brake and switched to the gas.

  The terse words made her stomach tighten. She shot a look at his profile. His eyes focused intently on the road, his mouth a hard line. His calm kept her from a full-blown panic.

  The wheels spun, grabbed traction for a second, and then spun again. The Jeep jolted and rocked, but went nowhere. Over the whine of the overtaxed engine, she could hear the tires spin.

  “Dammit,” Joe grumbled.

  He put the Jeep in park and got out, letting in a blast of frigid air. She lost sight of him in the swirling whiteness almost instantly. Although she knew he wouldn’t go far, the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease until the door opened once again and his disheveled, damp head poked back in. He waved her to move to the driver’s seat.

  “We’re stuck. I’ve gotta push. You steer.”

  She clambered over the gear shift to take the wheel. With the window open so that she could hear his shouted instructions, she inched the car first backward and then forward. She heard it before she felt it—a change in the sound of the spinning tires that signaled traction. As the vehicle began a slow roll, he appeared at her side. She scooted back to the passenger seat as he hopped into the moving vehicle and slammed the door behind him.

  “We’ve got to get off the road.”

  “Up here?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “We can always huddle up in the car if we can’t find a place, but we’re asking for trouble if we keep driving in this. Keep an eye out for turnoffs.” His tone didn’t encourage argument, and she didn’t give him any. The thought of ending up stuck again terrified her. “The lakeshore isn’t too far north, if my guess is right. We might be able to find a summer cabin or something—keep looking off to the right.”

  After a few minutes, her eyes burned from peering past the wipers into the white gloom. The task seemed hopeless. She could see no farther than a foot or two past the front of the car. Gusts of wind driving waves of snow sometimes obscured even that view. Occasionally, an outcropping of rock or a cluster of pines broke through, but only for a second. Then something caught her eye. She stared hard, trying to make it out.

  A mailbox!

  “Look!” She pointed to the post, next to a narrow driveway nearly hidden by the falling snow. They turned into the driveway, the Jeep bucking in the ruts beneath the snow. Farther up the narrow drive, the towering pines close on both sides shielded them from the worst of the snow and wind. After a short distance, the snow grew much deeper. No one had plowed here since the beginning of snow season.

  Joe pulle
d to a stop. “We’re on foot from here.”

  Ivy gathered both of her bags and her laptop, but Joe stopped her. “Just take one bag, the most critical one. If we need to, we can come back for the rest later. It’s going to be a tough slog.”

  Almost immediately, the cold exacted a toll. Ivy’s loafers couldn’t stand up to the deep snow. Before long, snow clung to her chinos up to her knees. The skin of her calves and ankles burned with cold beneath her skimpy trouser socks. She squinted to keep the stinging flakes out of her eyes. At first, the cold cut deep. After a few minutes, the agony faded into wooden numbness.

  “You okay?” Joe shot her an assessing look as he trudged alongside her in the snow.

  “They were hurting, but now I can’t feel my feet anymore. That’s a good thing at this point.”

  “No, it’s not. We’d better get you inside and get you dried off before you get frostbite.”

  She didn’t respond, saving her breath for hiking. About a half a mile down the road, the road rose over a bluff. At the top of the rise, Ivy braced her hands on her knees, puffing with exhaustion. Her twice-a-week Pilates classes back in Chicago hadn’t prepared her for wading through heavy snow that turned every step into a struggle.

  “Thank Jesus,” Joe muttered. Ivy whipped her head up and followed Joe’s pointing finger to a small cabin in the distance.

  “Do you think anyone is home?” Ivy asked as they drew near. Heavy wooden shutters covered the windows. If a sidewalk existed under all that snow, it hadn’t been shoveled.

  “We’ll see. No tracks in the snow—that’s a good sign. Must be somebody’s summer cabin. Pretty rough. Probably not the kind of place anyone lives in year-round.”

  “What will we do if no one’s home?” she asked as they waded through the drifts to the front door.

  “We’ll find a way in.”

  She stood shivering on the front porch as he knocked, waited a minute, and then knocked again, thunderously. If anyone was inside, they’d have to be deaf or dead not to hear it. No one answered.