...Jade watched a black pickup pull into a parking slot and stop.
“There’s Hunter,” Hawk said. “He’s your bodyguard.”
A tall, dark-haired man stepped out of the cab and reached back for a canvas duffel bag and briefcase. Jade caught her breath. The smooth, sinewy way he moved seemed so familiar.
He straightened and strode up the flagstone walkway toward them. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but she felt his gaze touch her in his assessment of his surroundings.
“That’s Hunter?” she whispered, stunned by the man’s eerie resemblance to Blake. Why this reminder now when she’d finally determined to get on with life?
As he drew closer, illuminated by shafts of sunlight filtering through the sycamore tree, a gold and jade ring on his right hand glowed. The jade pendant she wore on a gold chain under her blouse—a gift from Blake—resonated in response. How was that possible? While she’d shaped and polished the cabochon of imperial jade for Blake’s ring, she’d infused it with memories of their happiness together. At the same time, she’d tuned the stones to each other and set matching memories in her pendant.
How had the stranger come into possession of Blake’s ring?
She felt the color drain from her face. Her feet stuck to the porch floor. Every fiber of her being fought to make sense of what she saw. It was almost like seeing her beloved Blake, alive, moving closer without any sign he recognized her.
* * *
Ash scanned the trio on the porch. By process of elimination, the woman with auburn hair standing beside Hawk’s wife was his new assignment. She didn’t look like a scam artist, but he’d learned the hard way that evil came in many forms.
The roof and the passionflower vines twining up the adobe columns and along the curving arches shadowed her pale face. But she held herself in a rigid pose. He sensed she was close to a breaking point—that if he said, “Boo,” she’d shatter.
Hell, why did it matter what she thought or felt? The trouble was, he had the gut-deep urge to say or do something to put her at ease.
As he drew closer, he saw the family resemblance between her and Charity Adams. Both were around five-two and had a delicate bone structure. Hawk’s wife had blue-violet eyes. Ms. Starr’s eyes were an unusual mix of green with flecks of gold.
His mind stirred with a vague sense of familiarity. Of course, he’d seen her photo in the thin file Hawk had given him two hours earlier. That didn’t explain the vibration of his ring against his finger, or why the vibration grew stronger the closer he moved to her.
In the short time it had taken for these thoughts to process, he’d reached the porch and set down the duffel and case. Striking a military parade-rest pose, he said crisply, “Ash Hunter, reporting for duty…boss.”
Adams gave him the same narrow look he’d had when Ash had tried to get out of this job.
He stared back with a noncommittal expression.
The woman he chose to think of as his assignment regained her poise and offered her hand. “Mr. Hunter, welcome. I hear you’ll be stuck with me for the next month-and-a-half.”
Bracing himself against the ring’s effect, he gripped her slim hand, gave it one shake, then released her. “Adams said you’ve received threats.”
Her gaze slid past his face as she rubbed her right hand on her jeans. “It’s a…long story. Come inside and I’ll explain.”
Under cover of hefting his duffel and laptop case, he slipped the ring into a fold of silk in his pant’s pocket and followed her into the house with Hawk and Charity Adams behind them. Did they think he’d savage the tender feelings of their little psychic?
On the other hand, he’d come prepared, as always, with a square of silk to insulate himself from the unsettling pulsations in the mysterious piece of jewelry. Ash shrugged away a niggling doubt. Maybe he’d made a hasty assessment of the quiet-spoken woman...