Stranded by Dani Pettrey Page B

information have been? He could easily fill her in. The more important question was—how could she head off on a fun-filled excursion while Abby was still missing?
    Biting her bottom lip, Darcy climbed the stairs to Gage’s floor, her heart fluttering in her chest. If she didn’t go on the excursion, she’d lose her gig, and that would be of no help to Abby. She didn’t have a choice. She had to go.
    She exited the stairwell, made her way down the corridor, and stopped in front of his cabin door, forcing herself to take several calming breaths before knocking.
    He answered wearing a long-sleeved white T-shirt and comfortable-looking navy sweats. “Missed you at the meeting.”
    â€œI was investigating.”
    He nodded but didn’t remark.
    â€œCan you fill me in on what I missed?”
    He stepped back. “Come on in.”
    His cabin was similar in size to hers, and the walls were the same cheery yellow with white shells painted along the top border. He had the same double bed, recessed dresser and desk, but also had a quaint seating area with a low, round side table between two egg-shaped chairs. She sat in the one she’d sat in earlier.
    â€œSo what’s the deal with tomorrow?”
    Gage sank into the other chair, his eyes narrowing. “Is something wrong? You seem edgier than usual.”
    Great. He was still able to read her. Could he also tell that just being near him made her tingly? Her friend was missing, she was getting nowhere on the investigation, and yet she was still managing to fall head over heels for a guy who, at best, only humored her with a charming flirtation. Am I crazy? The man hated her profession and wanted nothing to do with God. And other than an occasional soulful smile, she couldn’t even be certain he liked her. Get your head in the game, Darcy .
    Gage leaned forward, jiggling her knee with his hand. “What’s going on?”
    She took a breath, worried that if she spoke too quickly, it’d all come pouring out—her fear of not being up to the task of the investigation, of never finding her friend, and of her deepest fear that Abby could already be . . .
    She shook off the thought. She refused to go there. Abby was alive. She has to be .
    â€œYou’re starting to freak me out.” He squeezed her knee. “Did something happen?”
    â€œYes . . . No . . . I mean, it wasn’t anything, I don’t think.”
    â€œYou don’t think . . . ?”
    His hand remained on her knee, and she struggled to ignorehow good his touch felt. Considering the circumstances, his touch was the last thing she should be thinking about. “Abby’s purse is missing from my cabin.”
    â€œMeaning someone broke into your room and stole it?”
    â€œIt seems that way.”
    â€œDid you report it?”
    â€œHow can I?”
    â€œSomeone broke in your room and stole something.”
    â€œYes. A purse that didn’t belong to me in the first place. How do I explain that one? I took the purse from Abby’s cabin, but now I’m reporting someone for taking it from mine?”
    â€œYes, but you had a reason. You’re trying to help.”
    â€œBut I can’t share that.”
    â€œRight.” He sat back, removing his hand from her knee—the warmth of his touch dissipating. “Your cover.”
    Here came the censure. “I know you don’t understand, but . . .” Wait. Why was she explaining herself to Gage again ? She didn’t owe him an explanation, and yet she so desperately wanted him to understand, which in itself irked her even more. Why did she care what he thought? Don’t answer that one. Sadly, she knew exactly why. “Look, the fact is I’m trying to find my friend, and this is the way I have to go about it.”
    â€œCan’t you just be up-front? Explain who you are. Question them outright about