Midnight Jewels

with each other. For example, Croft had nearly gotten a cup of tea dumped on his head when he had made the mistake of complaining about having to make do with a tea bag. He had attempted to give his hostess precise instructions on the proper preparation of tea and had found himself looking up at a full mug being held threateningly over his head. He'd had the sense to cease and desist.
    At first she had believed Croft's continued, periodic brusqueness was a hangover from his earlier flash of male temperament. But now she was coming to the conclusion that it was caused by something else. She had the strange feeling his mind was on a different matter, something more important to him than a recalcitrant woman. The realization made Mercy uneasy.
    "Mr. Gladstone's note suggests we stay at a particular motel near the ski resort area this evening. It's one of the few that will be open at this time of year. Tomorrow morning we'll drive on to his home." Mercy leaned forward, reading the signs that were flashing by overhead. "This is the exit. Turn off here and head toward the mountains."
    Croft obediently swung the car off the interstate and picked up the narrow two lane road that led into the steep terrain beyond. The mountains soon rose around them, hemming in the tiny swath of roadway. The sparse vegetation quickly thickened, turning into a forest of dark green that cut off the view of the distant peaks.
    "I've never been very fond of mountains," Mercy remarked conversationally. "Everything always seems so oppressive in them. It always looks as though it's dusk or twilight during the daytime and at night it's downright dark. Too dark. And the trees make weird sounds."
    "That's amusing, considering the fact that you live in the Pacific Northwest." Croft was concentrating on the increasingly torturous road. "Washington is famous for its mountains."
    "I don't mind looking at them," she explained patiently. "But you may have noticed I don't actually live in them. I live near the sea."
    "So do I."
    Mercy nodded complacently. "I'm not surprised."
    A smile edged the hard line of his mouth. "What makes you say that?"
    "Maybe it's your interest in watercolors. They always seem more appropriate to seaside painting. Or maybe it's just that you're the kind of man who would appreciate the natural drama of living near the ocean. I'm not sure, I'm just not surprised to hear you have a home by the water."
    "When we're through dealing with Gladstone I'll take you to C on."
    She smiled. "It's a deal." It gave her a lift to hear him talk about the future. Then she thought about the odd phrasing of the sentence. He hadn't talked about delivering the book to Gladstone, he'd said when they were through dealing with Gladstone. Mercy's smile became a frown. She glared at the winding road ahead. "Hadn't you better slow down a bit? This road isn't an interstate."
    "Don't worry, Mercy. Everything's under control."
    She leaned back in the seat and sighed because he was right. The man drove with the precision and expertise of a professional race car driver. Each curve was met and conquered with perfect timing. The Toyota was responding to a master's touch.
    "You've got awfully good reflexes, don't you, Croft?" It was almost an accusation.
    "Yes," he said without any trace of pride. It was simply a fact as far as he was concerned.
    Shortly before seven that evening Croft parked the rented Toyota in the lot of a somewhat shabby but clean looking motel. The structure was on the fringes of what was undoubtedly a lively ski resort during the winter. The two-story motel was probably much more cheerful and welcoming when it was surrounded by crisp white snow and flocks of eager skiers. Now, at the end of a drowsy summer day with long shadows already cutting off the waning sun, the place looked dreary to Mercy's critical eye.
    Croft glanced at her expression as he started to take the luggage out of the car. "We could try to find another place farther down the line."
    Mercy eyed the handful of cars in the parking lot. "We might as well stay here. It's getting late and mere's no guarantee any other place would be open. At least they've got a coffee shop. I'm starving."
    Croft hesitated, then shrugged and started toward the tiny lobby.
    Mercy suddenly remembered something. She trotted to catch up with him. "Two rooms, Croft."
    He said nothing, didn't bother to look at her. He just kept striding toward the entrance.
    "And I like to be on the second level," Mercy