Twist of Fate by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

her eyes closed, so she didn’t see him shrug but she sensed the vague gesture in his voice. “I told you. I need a vacation. I’ve never been to Santa Inez.”
    â€œAnd where do you propose to stay on Santa Inez?”
    â€œThere’ll be hotels. There are always hotels.”
    â€œJust tell me why you’re doing this, Gideon.”
    â€œIf I knew, I’d tell you.”
    Hannah opened her eyes as the jet crouched at the head of the runway, its engines roaring to life. “You don’t know why you’re here? Other than the fact that you want a vacation?”
    Gideon massaged his forehead, looking deeply pained. “Does there have to be more of a reason?”
    She was about to tell him that there definitely had to be more of a reason, much more, but the jet was rolling very quickly now, straining for lift-off. Hannah didn’t feel like pitching her voice above the grinding noise. She eyed him covertly as the green hills of Seattle dropped away beneath the plane. Gideon Cage did indeed look hungover. She found the thought curiously interesting. It didn’t quite fit the mosaic she had mentally constructed.
    â€œDo you get drunk often?” Hannah inquired politely as the jet leveled off.
    He slanted her a hard-edged glance. “What do you think?”
    â€œI think you don’t do it too frequently,” she responded honestly. “Being that out of control wouldn’t fit your personality. Where did you go last night?”
    â€œSome place near the waterfront. Lots of glass, great view. I don’t remember the name. Then I walked back to my hotel and had a couple of drinks before going to bed. Hardly a wild evening.”
    â€œYou walked from the Market back to your hotel? Alone?”
    â€œWhy not? Seattle is a very friendly town.”
    â€œTourist luck,” Hannah marveled. “You should have caught a cab.”
    â€œI’ll remember that next time. How was your going-away party?”
    â€œLousy.”
    For some reason that got his attention. “Lousy? Did your leg hurt?”
    â€œThat wasn’t the problem.”
    â€œThen what was the problem?” he asked with exaggerated patience.
    â€œIt took the form of am uncomfortable social situation. What might be called a scene.” Hannah accepted a cup of coffee from the cabin attendant and waited as Gideon did the same. “I got into an embarrassing argument,” she continued bluntly as the attendant moved on to the next row. “I hate scenes. Especially ones in which I humiliate myself.”
    â€œAre we discussing a scene with a man?” Gideon swallowed the contents of his coffee cup in two long gulps. He seemed grateful for the small comfort.
    He really did look somewhat the worse for wear, Hannah decided. His hair had been combed with a too-careful hand, the severe style only serving to point up the grimness around his eyes and mouth. He was wearing a pair of tan pants and an open-necked cotton work shirt. Both garments looked a little crushed, as if they had been yanked out of a flight bag and not been given a chance to unwrinkle.
    â€œNo. A scene with a woman. Vicky Armitage. She’s an anthro professor. I think I mentioned her. She knows I’m going to Santa Inez to deal with my aunt’s library. Wants me to turn it over to someone who is competent to analyze it. Someone who can appreciate the true value of Elizabeth Nord’s records and notes.”
    â€œAnd that someone isn’t a guidance counselor?”
    Hannah smiled wryly. “Sometimes you can be amazingly insightful.”
    â€œHow did you humiliate and embarrass yourself?”
    Hannah sighed, remembering the small scene. “I tried to hold my own in a field in which I am eminently underqualified.”
    â€œAnthropology?”
    â€œUh-huh. Normally I have sense enough not to get in over my head with the academic crowd, but Vicky really annoyed me last night. I found