To All A Good Night. Jill Shalvis

angle out more often with guys?”

      “You coming on to me, then, Curls?” he asked, not sounding remotely serious about the assumption, so she carefully made sure she didn’t take it as the flirtatious banter she found herself wishing it was.

      “Other guys,” she clarified, then hurried to add as he grunted and shoved at something—“Be careful! Why don’t you let me come help you?”

      “Because I’m not sure everything is done falling yet. Better you steer clear. I’m…digging myself out. It’ll just take me a few minutes, okay? I’m not hurt, the ladder sort of broke the fall of most of the books. I just don’t want to inadvertently trigger another avalanche and I’m as hampered by the lack of light as you are.”

      “Okay. I don’t guess you know where the candles you found ended up? Maybe I should go find one myself, and grab some parlor matches upstairs. Can you hold out that long? Then I could help unbury you.”

      “No, that’s—” He broke off, then sighed, and said, “Yeah, that might not be a bad idea. Start with the east rooms down the hall to the right at the top of the stairs, then travel back to the parlor we were in, which is on the west side—left—at the top of the stairs.”

      “I may not be a born mapmaker, but I do usually know that if east is to the right, then west is to the left. But thank you, because, knowing me I’d probably get lost anyway.”

      “Anytime,” he said, his voice sounding more tight than amused now.

      “You sure you’re okay?”

      “Fine, I’m fine.”

      “If I don’t find anything in the next ten or so minutes, I’ll come back and tell you.”

      There was another pause, then, “Just find one. I’m okay.”

      She paused, too, knowing there was something more going on here, but decided it was unlikely he’d tell her even if she asked. “I’ll try to hurry.”

      “Just be careful. And leave the dogs in the parlor. We don’t need to worry about tripping over them.”

      “No problem. Just…stay where you are.”

      There was a light chuckle, then, “Sure thing, Curls. I’ll do that.”

      Rather than respond, and mostly to block out the little warm fuzzy his nickname made her feel, she turned and moved slowly and carefully back down the hallway.

      It wasn’t until she was at the top of the stairs again, and starting down the wing to the right, that it occurred to her that he’d never told her what his “I’ll be damned” moment had been about.

      6

      Trevor tried not to feel bad about sending Emma off on a wild goose chase. Lionel wasn’t one for perfumed-scented anything and, other than some long tapers that the housekeeper had probably stored away somewhere for the dinner parties Lionel never gave, Trevor was pretty certain there weren’t going to be any candles anywhere in the house. The one he’d found in here had been encrusted in some kind of antique brass family heirloom that was God knew how old.

      It had just been a convenient cover for his need to snoop around. He’d been a little surprised that there hadn’t been an industrial flashlight of some kind to be found in his cursory look in the kitchen earlier, but, if there was, he hadn’t found it. Possibly there was one in the garage, though there weren’t really any tools stored there. Or in Lionel’s specially designed, but never used, workshop. He’d had that built more for appearances than anything. He could build entire conglomerates, but Trevor was pretty sure he’d never seen his great-uncle with an actual tool in his hand, much less building something with them.

      However, the workshop was in a detached building, located down the hill from the house and, at the moment, out of reach while the ice storm continued to rage. And beyond that, he wasn’t really sure where else to look. So, instead, he’d used what there was of Emma’s flashlight, and searched for something else entirely.

      He shoved more books out of the way, trying to be careful not to crash the ladder the rest of the way down on his head. He’d been skimming the spines of all the books starting at the top of the tall cases, balanced on the attached rolling ladder while he searched. And he’d been doing just fine until he’d made it halfway down the ladder, halfway down the stacks, when the whole damn contraption derailed and sent him and the ladder sailing sideways. He’d tried to grab at the shelves, which were built into the wall, only they seemed to give, which had made no sense to him at the time but he’d been too busy protecting himself as he and an avalanche of books went cascading down to the floor to think much beyond it.

      Emma’s flashlight, which had been on it’s last dregs of power anyway, was presently buried in book rubble, leaving him to sift through things by touch, praying he wasn’t going to somehow bring the entire bookcase down on his head.

      Which, as it turned out, given the creaking sound of moments ago, was a rather valid concern.

      He carefully continued to shovel books to one side and the other as he made his way to the newly created opening in what had been a wall of bookcases. The opening had been revealed when the bookcase he’d been dangling from swung loose from the wall it was supposedly built into.

      Lionel wasn’t really a gadget kind of guy. Despite keeping his business sense on the cutting edge, privately he was more the old school type when it came to gizmos and new technology. However, his wife, Trevor’s favorite great-aunt, Trudy, had loved technology, and puzzles, and figuring out how things worked. Unsurprisingly, she was also a fan of mystery novels and could usually solve the riddle of the plot long before any of her contemporaries.

      Since this mountain retreat had been her sanctuary, especially during the latter years of her life when she’d been ill, and long hours spent reading her favorite novels had been the mainstay of her entertainment, Trevor could only suppose that Lionel had had the secret room built as some kind of treat for his wife to enjoy.

      Or, it could be where Lionel hid things he didn’t want anyone to find.

      Trevor usually thought of Lionel as an empire builder and stern patriarch. It was rare to think of him as a devoted, loving husband, though, from all accounts, he had been. Still, Trevor wasn’t entirely inclined to believe the secret room was simply a loving gesture, no matter how much Lionel had doted on his late wife.

      Wishing he had the flashlight, Trevor crawled into the opening, leaving the mass of fallen books in a wake behind him. He stopped just inside the gap, as the black void in front of him made the total lack of light in the study seem bright by comparison. He sighed in regret. He’d have to wait until morning, when at least some daylight would penetrate the big windows of the main room.

      And find some excuse to keep Emma away from this room, which meant keeping her out of the study altogether, since he had no idea how to put the wall and case back together. Which, with all the books on the floor, would take some time, even if he did. He scooted back out, shoving at books again, when a bright beam of light flashed into the room and skimmed over its contents, before pinning him to the spot as he shielded his eyes.

      “How very…Humpty Dumpty of you,” Emma said from her stance in the doorway.

      Great. Just great.

      “Hey,” he said, with feigned enthusiasm, “you found a flashlight.”

      She stepped just inside the door. “Bedside drawer in one of the guest rooms.” She patted the pocket of her fleece vest. “Extra batteries, too.”

      “Could you lower the beam a little?”

      “Oh, sorry.”

      Unfortunately, she both lowered it and shifted it slightly to the side. The side with the gaping doorway to the secret room.

      “Whoa. So that’s what that ‘I’ll be damned’ was all about.” She moved in closer, careful to pick her way over and around clumps of books. She stopped