Radclyffe - Wild Shores

Gem laughed and shook her head. “As a matter of fact, no. Why ever for?”

Austin grinned and chose a half-truth. “A working vacation. I’ve got a deadline, and I like to get away where I can concentrate and be waited on at the same time.”

“Well then, it appears it’s fate. I’d love a ride.”

“Perfect.” Austin didn’t believe in fate, but she did believe in luck, and at least for the moment, hers was looking up. That was likely to change when she reached Rock Hill Island and liaised with Ray Tatum, but until then, she’d enjoy a beautiful woman’s company while wearing the secret skin that fit her best.

Chapter Two

Gem kept pace with Austin’s slightly longer stride as they searched for their vehicle among the rows of numbered rental cars. They finally found the late-model Nissan Pathfinder and stowed their gear in the rear. She climbed into the passenger seat as Austin slid behind the wheel, started the vehicle, and switched on the navcom.

Austin slid her phone out of her pants pocket, scrolled through with her thumb, and punched in an address on the console. “What do you know? The hotel address pops. Looks like we’ve got directions.”

Gem scanned the readout alongside the route map. “Yes, and if we weren’t driving through soup, we’d probably be there in the three-plus hours predicted. Obviously, the electronic gods haven’t picked up the weather report yet.”

“Double the time estimate, if we’re lucky.” Austin backed out of the space and joined the queue leaving the garage.

“Road trip.” Gem sighed. She hadn’t planned on a day in the car, but at least she wasn’t sitting on a hard plastic seat in the airport or calling hotels looking for a room. “I used to love them when I was a kid. On occasion, I still do. But I’m really sorry you’re going to have to drive through this.”

“I’m used to it. I live in the Catskills, and fog is a way of life starting in October.”

“I can spell you whenever you need. I’m a New Englander too. Although give me snow over fog any day.”

“Agreed.”

“I hate to even ask, but if we can find a place with coffee—”

“And breakfast,” Austin added.

Gem groaned as her stomach grumbled. “Yes, please.”

“Once we get off the interstate, we ought to run into some diners. That work for you?”

“Diners always work for me.”

Austin smiled. “Perfect.”

Gem liked the way Austin’s quick grin softened the carved line of her jaw and caused a few crinkles to appear at the corner of her eye. Austin drove with an easy sense of confidence and casual focus, radiating the aura of a woman used to doing and being in charge of whatever the action was at the moment. She’d said she had a deadline—she must be some kind of writer. Funny, she looked more suited for a fishing boat somewhere, or riding a four-wheeler up some mountainside, than sitting behind a desk.

“If I didn’t know you were a writer, I would’ve pegged you as an outdoors-woman,” Gem said.

“You wouldn’t be far off,” Austin said carefully. Generally when it came to personal disclosures, she didn’t have any problem blurring the edges of the truth with people she was likely never going to see again. Or even those she might. Confidentiality was built into her, professionally and personally, from an early age. Her father had been active-duty military when she was growing up, and some of his missions had been classified. He’d been closemouthed about what he did, even after he’d moved into more administrative sections. Her mother was a physician, and she didn’t talk about her work very much either. Austin had learned not to probe or to share her own secrets.

When she went into consulting, confidentiality was a given, but working for GOP took that to new heights. She’d signed endless papers binding her to silence, at considerable legal and financial penalty should she break confidence, not that that was ever going to happen. Protecting the reputation of her client, any client, was a point of honor, and she’d learned that from her mother and father too.

Still, maintaining professional barriers bled over into her personal life, where privacy exacted a price. Women found her secretive and aloof, and often translated that into unemotional and cold. She knew because she’d been told more than once by women on their way out of her life. Maybe they were right. No one had broken her heart when they’d left, and maybe that was because she wasn’t the type to invest emotionally. She’d simply rationalized she hadn’t wanted anything serious, but maybe she wasn’t actually capable of it. Not that any of that mattered now. Friendship, at least, she ought to be able to manage without compromising principles or comfort. “I live year-round in a three-room log cabin in the mountains between New York City and Albany. It’s rustic.”

“Define rustic,” Gem said, intrigued. She knew plenty of environmentalists who lived off the grid, but this woman didn’t strike her as that either. She had a patina of sophistication about her, despite the plain khaki pants, unironed cotton shirt, and beat-up leather flight jacket. She could just as easily see her in a tuxedo cradling a champagne flute in her sure, strong hand as she could with her booted feet up on a rough pine railing.

“I heat the place with a wood-burning stove in the winter, so I spend a lot of time doing things like chopping wood, doing my own repairs, and chasing bears away from my recycler.”

“Internet?”

“I’m not that far off-grid. Satellite, which does the job most days.”

“What do you do when you’re not working?”

“I ride a little bit when I have time.” Even though there was hardly any time when she wasn’t working, one way or the other.

“Horses, you mean?”

Austin nodded. “Motorcycles, ATVs too.”

“Let me guess. Snowmobile?”

Austin grinned and turned off the main highway when the in-dash voice instructed her to detour around slow traffic ahead. “Guilty. You?”

“I live just outside Hartford and have an adjunct position at Yale. I ski, and I can always be persuaded to take a long weekend doing just about anything outdoors, any time of the year.”

“What do you teach?”

“Virology.”

“Are you a medical doctor?”

“No, PhD microbiologist. Well, that and an ornithologist.”

Austin glanced at her, one eyebrow quirked. “Really? That’s an interesting combination.”

Gem smiled. “It sounds that way. I went after the birds first.”

“What makes someone want to study birds?”

Gem hesitated over her standard answer, having learned most people didn’t really understand a love of birds. Birds weren’t like domestic pets or even farm animals—not cuddly, or people oriented, or hobby-farm material.

“Is that an insulting question?”

“No!” Gem blushed. “I always wanted to be a bird. This is as close as I could get.”

Austin nodded as if she really understood. “They do seem to have a great life—except I always wonder if they know their existence is just one long struggle to survive. Not just birds—all creatures.”

Gem detected a hint of pain that surprised her. “People too?”

“Maybe us most of all.” Austin blew out a breath. Where the hell had all that come from. She had always been aware of her mortality. She’d learned that in a hospital bed before she could even put the pain and terror into words. But she’d gotten through all that, gotten over being the weak one in the family, the one who wasn’t quite fit enough to fit in with her high-achieving, risk-taking family. “Sorry. I think this soup is getting to me.” She glanced at Gem. “Tell me about the birds. What do you study?”