Manhunting by Jennifer Crusie Read Free Book Online Page A

hat tilted down to keep the sun off his face.
    “Well, you have to do something,” Valerie said with a determined smile. “You can’t just sit.”
    “I am doing something.” Kate jerked her thumb at Jake. “I’m going fishing with Jake.” She turned and walked down the path behind him, taking long strides to catch up.
    “You don’t actually have to take me fishing,” she told him, knowing he’d heard. “Just let me stay with you until we’re into the woods and I’m safe.”
    He didn’t say anything for a minute, and then handed her the poles without looking at her or breaking his slow, relaxed amble. “There’s an extra pole and room in the boat.”
    Kate hesitated a moment, but when she looked back, Valerie was watching her.
    And I’m paying a lot of money for this,
she thought.
I’m going to kill Jessie.
Then she sighed and turned to follow Jake through the woods to the lake.
     
Chapter Three
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    The lake was small, secluded, and green. Pulled up on its stony shore was a wide shallow rowboat that looked like it had lost its paint before Kate had been born.
    “This floats?”
    “Oh, yeah.” Jake tossed the duffel in. “I wouldn’t jump up and down in it, but it floats.”
    “There aren’t any seats,” Kate said.
    “Somebody ripped them out once to use as oars.” Jake pushed the boat most of the way into the water. “Stack the cushions. If you’re still coming.”
    Kate looked over her shoulder. Valerie was definitely out of sight, but she was also one of the most determined women Kate had ever met. Better to take no chances. She stepped carefully into the boat and dumped the duffel out There were half a dozen square blue plastic-covered boat cushions, and several faded-pink sofa pillows. She stacked three of the plastic cushions at each end and sat on one stack, her hands neatly folded in front of her. Jake climbed in opposite her and pushed off, rowing when the boat had floated a little way into the lake. It was the most energetic thing she’d seen him do, but even here he was lazy, rowing with long, slow strokes. She watched his hands on the oars and the flex of the muscles in his forearms, mesmerized by the slow movement of his body as he pulled the oars deeply through the water.
    He rowed them into the shade of a willow on the far bank, tied the boat to an overhanging branch, and spread the plastic cushions he’d been sitting on behind him, topping them with the sofa pillows. Kate did the same with her cushions and leaned back to watch him.
    Every move he made was slow, she realized, but exactly efficient. He picked up his rod, cast his line expertly into the water, and then jammed the pole between the gunwale of the boat and the oarlock. No wasted movement While she was still admiring his efficiency, he kicked off his shoes and took off his shirt.
    His shoulders were broad, with the kind of muscle that came from everyday work. He leaned toward her and she tensed, remembering Lance, but all he did was hand her the second rod. “Beer’s in the cooler,” he said, and settled back into the cushions at his end of the boat, the pillows under his head, tipping his hat over his face until all she could see was the curve of his mouth under his mustache.
    Kate looked at her rod.
    “Jake,” she said softly. “There’s no bait on my hook.”
    “If you bait your hook,” he said patiently from under his hat, “you will catch a fish.”
    She waited for further explanation but he was finished. Evidently for Jake, fishing meant sleeping half naked under a willow tree. When she thought about it, it made sense. She didn’t like fish anyway.
    She cast her line in and jammed her pole beside his and then made herself a nest in the cushions, stretching her legs out beside his, careful not to touch him. She leaned back and stared up through the willow, listening to the water lap the side of the boat and the wind gently stir the drooping silver leaves above her. The