by Lisa Jackson
Amy clutched the card as if it were the Bible. “Thank-you, Dr. Donahue.”
“It’s Skye, Amy. Okay? We’ve known each other too long to be so formal.”
“All right, Skye.”
“Take care of those boys now.”
“I will.” Still blushing, Amy hurried down the hall toward the waiting room and reception area.
Skye made a note on Robby’s chart as her newly hired nurse, Belinda Tagmier, a petite brunette with a smattering of freckles over an upturned nose, poked her head into the examining room. “Believe it or not, that was the last one,” she said with a grin. “We can go home.”
“What, no emergencies?” Skye said, clicking her pen closed and tucking the file under her arm. “No scrapes, bruises, fevers, turned ankles?”
“None so far.”
“Good. How about I buy you a drink?” Skye asked as they walked out of the room. She dropped the file on the desk in her office on the way to the employee lounge. “Let’s see—there’s cola, diet cola, the uncola or orange. Go ahead. Live it up. It’s on me.”
“I’ll have to take a rain check,” Belinda said with a grin. “Dale’s due home tonight after being three weeks on the road. I’m going to cook him a candlelight dinner, open a bottle of wine and wear his favorite dress....”
“Another time,” Skye agreed as Belinda grabbed her purse, sweater and keys.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Belinda searched one of the large pockets in her white nurse’s uniform. “Let’s see. Here it is.” She extracted a business card and handed it to Skye. “Some guy left it at the reception desk. He showed up, demanded to speak with you, and when we finally convinced him that your schedule was loaded, handed me this. Asked that you call him.”
Skye read the card. Rex Stone, Private Investigator. Several phone numbers, including home, office and mobile, were listed. “A private detective?” she said, and then she knew. Somehow the man was linked to the investigation surrounding Jonah McKee’s death. Her heart seemed to drop to the floor. She didn’t want to think about Jonah or the fact that he may have been murdered.
“Look, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Belinda slipped through the front doors and locked them behind her. Skye was alone in the clinic. Ralph Fletcher only worked until two each day now and the office staff left promptly at five, after switching the phones to the answering service. The cleaning crew arrived around midnight. Skye checked her watch. Six-fifteen. “Not bad.” It was the first night since she’d landed in Rimrock that she’d been able to lock up before dark.
Turning the bothersome card over several times, she walked back to her office. She tried to catch the investigator at home and left a brief message on his machine. That accomplished, she slid his card into the top drawer of her desk, then took the time to go through the files of the final three cases she’d seen and dictate memos that the secretary would type and file in the morning.
All in all, the second week had gone more smoothly than her first few days in town. Except for her relationship with Max. That was still complex. It was too easy imagining herself in love with him just as she had been before. But was it wise? They were older now; their dreams and lives had changed. She had her career; he had his. And he had a child and a business enterprise to run, while she had her ailing mother and the clinic to worry about.
With a sad smile, she realized that she really didn’t have time to fall in love.
“Somethin’s buggin’ the hell out of you,” Jenner said as he tossed the last bag into the bed of his truck and took a look around the Rocking M. “And don’t try to tell me you’re worried about the fact that Stone’s got Sheriff Polk believing that Dad was murdered. It’s more than that.” His mouth quirked up at the corners. “If you ask me, you’ve got woman trouble. You want to talk about it?”
Irritated by the way Jenner had of always seeing though him, Max glared into the back of his brother’s old truck. Two duffel bags, a bedroll and one box of shaving gear and cooking utensils. All Jenner owned in the world—well, almost. There were still three quarter horses, a few saddle blankets and various pieces of tack, but Jenner believed in traveling light. “Nothin’ to say.”
“Let me guess. You don’t like me movin’ in with the lady doc,” Jenner said, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“I couldn’t care less.”
“And you’re the worst liar in the county. You’ve been seein’ her again and she’s got your head all turned around and that ticks you off.” Jenner yanked open the door of the truck. “I’m glad you don’t mind me takin’ the apartment over there ‘cause that Skye, she’s one nne-lookin’ woman. Got herself a good job and a body on her that won’t quit and—”
Before he could finish, the door was slammed shut and Max had his brother pinned against the cab. Max’s reaction had been instinctive and fierce. The thought of another man with Skye, even his own brother, was too much to bear. “You leave her alone,” he growled, his hands tightening in the folds of Jenner’s shirt.
“Just as I suspected. You’re still carryin’ a torch.” Jenner’s crooked grin was downright insolent. Max knew there was nothing his brother liked better than a fight. They’d wrestled and boxed and tried to beat each other up for years before Max had gone away to school. Jenner’s muscles flexed beneath his clothes and his nostrils flared as if he smelled a fight in the air.
“She’s just not the kind of woman you’re used to,” Max said, backing up and silently cursing himself for letting his emotions take over.
Jenner’s eyes darkened perceptibly. “You don’t know what kind of woman I’m used to,” he said, and there was something in the way he said the words, a quiet tone of emotion, that Max didn’t understand.
Jenner had always been a love-‘em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. Except for that one time with Beth Crandall, when Jenner had been the one left. What was it he’d told Max once? That the old man had screwed them both over when it came to women? Had Jonah intervened in Jenner’s love life the way he had in Max’s? Didn’t seem possible. Jenner was too much a lone wolf to lose his heart to anyone or anything. Even Beth Crandall.
“Just back off,” Max warned.
“If you’re so interested in the lady doctor, why don’t you take her out?”
“It’s not that easy,” Max admitted. Yes, he’d been with her twice, made love to her each time until dawn, but he’d rationalized his actions as pure lust and the love of a challenge. She’d left him years ago and now he was getting a little of his own back.
The trouble was that Jenner was right. All those old feelings he’d denied for so long were back full force. He couldn’t look into Skye’s warm hazel eyes without seeing the future. His future. “Nothing’s easy.”
“Isn’t it? Hell, the old man’s dead. He can’t do anything to you. It’s over, man. All that old garbage. You can do whatever you damned well please. With Skye Donahue or not.” Jenner climbed into his truck, slammed the door shut, pumped the gas and twisted the key in the ignition. Backfiring like a rifle shot, the old pickup took off, leaving a plume of blue smoke and the stench of burning oil. And he was going to Skye’s house. A knot twisted in Max’s gut. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to go chasing after Skye again, that he needed time to think things through, to cool off, but it was impossible to keep cool with that woman.
“Damn it all,” he growled as he crossed the lot, jumped into his old rig and headed into town. He’d rather forget about her, but he couldn’t. Ever since making love to her, he’d been tormented by thoughts of her, erotic memories that would bubble to the surface of his mind at the most inopportune times.
Like now.
Skye read Mrs. Newby’s list of complaints and repairs for the fourth time. The woman was crazy, expecting Skye to replace everything from light bulbs to the carpet as well as buy new appliances and repaint every wall. She wanted her rooms soundproofed and a security system installed on the doors and windows. She thought built-in shelves and a satellite dish to receive broadcasts fr
om Louisiana, her home state, would be nice. How about security lights around the perimeter of the building? And about that cat, the gray tabby that hissed at her every time she walked up the stairs, well, he would have to go. Mrs. Newby was allergic to cats and didn’t welcome the prospect of having her stockings snagged or her legs scratched by the beast.
“Dream on,” Skye muttered, and wondered how she would get through to the sweet little lady.
There was a knock on the door and Skye found a petite, red-haired woman in her early thirties standing in the hallway. “I’m Tina Evans,” she said with a sincere smile. “I just wanted to come down and introduce myself and thank you for the basket of goodies that you left with Paula the other day.”
Skye liked the woman instantly. “You’re welcome.”
“I hope that Paula’s music doesn’t bother you. Because of my hours, I sometimes have to leave her alone. More than I’d really like to.”
“She’s been fine. Really,” Skye said, cocking her head toward the living room. “Come on in. I’ve got a pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator if you’re thirsty.”
Tina’s grin widened. “It sounds like heaven! I’ve been working a double shift over at Oakley’s Diner in Dawson City. One of the other gals called in sick, so I got elected to fill in. I sure can use the money, but as I said, I hate to leave Paula alone so much. She was okay, wasn’t she?” Tina asked nervously, glancing up at the ceiling as if she could see through the floorboards into her apartment.
“I’ve only been home a little while, but I’m sure that if she was in any trouble, Mrs. Newby would have let me know about it. Pronto.”
They sat at the table and chatted. Skye learned that Tina, originally from Des Moines, had been divorced for two years. Her ex-husband had disappeared with another woman and he hadn’t paid a dime of child support. Ever since her parents’ separation, Paula had become belligerent and confused. She was having trouble in school and seeing a counselor every other week. Her only interest seemed to be music. “She’s a handful,” Tina admitted. “Don’t let anyone tell you the teenage years are easy. If they do, they’re either liars or they’ve never raised any kids, let me tell you!”
She’d just about finished her tea when she noticed the newspaper lying open on the table. “Doesn’t that beat all?” she said, pointing to the headlines about Jonah McKee’s death. “The man’s been dead over a month, everyone around here thinking it an accident, and now, lo and behold, the sheriff and some private investigator think maybe he was murdered.” She clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “I moved Paula here, away from Des Moines, to get away from all the violence that goes with a big city.”
Skye’s stomach seemed to drop. She didn’t want to think that anyone would actually kill Jonah. Much as she hadn’t liked the man, he certainly didn’t deserve to be murdered. She thought of the investigator, Rex Stone, and wondered what he wanted from her.
“They think he was either run off the road or that he might have been drugged. Can you believe it—in a little town like Rimrock?” She shook her head and sighed. “Seems like they could’ve figured out all this before the family had the old guy cremated.”
“Seems like,” Skye said, unwilling to dwell on such a morbid topic.
“I never did meet the man, but I heard he was pretty powerful around here. You can’t go a block without seeing McKee Enterprises on one building or another. You know, some people have all the luck.”
“Don’t they though?”
A loud knock sounded on the door.
“Oops. I bet that’s Paula. I’d better get going.” Tina drained her glass quickly and set it on the table. “Thanks for the tea and sympathy.”
“Company,” Skye corrected as she walked her through the living room. She opened the door and found Jenner McKee standing in the hallway, one hand raised as if he planned to knock again. “Why, Jenner,” Skye said, surprised to find him in the hallway even though Dr. Fletcher had warned her that the younger McKee brother was looking for a place to stay.
“Doc Fletcher told me you could use a handyman around here,” he said, ignoring the fact that Tina was looking him up one side and down the other. A Stetson was shoved back on his head, faded jeans were tight over his hips and a rawhide jacket was tossed over a sun-bleached plaid shirt. His skin was tanned and weathered, his body trim and tough as leather. He looked very much like the rodeo rider he’d been not so many years before. “He told me to stop by.”
“He said the same thing to me,” Skye said. “But the basement isn’t fit to live in.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
“And have the Department of Health after me? I don’t think so.” She shook her head and Tina stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “There’s a room up on two and an attic loft on three, each with working indoor plumbing, insulation and heat.”
“The deal was for the basement,” he said stubbornly.
“The deal just changed. Either you take a decent room or you don’t take a room at all. Oh, and by the way, this is Tina Evans. She’s one of the tenants. Jenner McKee.”
Tina’s mouth nearly dropped open. “McKee? We were just... oh.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Jenner said, charm evident in his sky blue eyes.
“Me, too.” Tina, now that she’d quit staring, actually blushed.
Smothering a smile, Skye led them both up the flight of stairs to the second floor where she fitted the proper key into an ancient lock. The door creaked open and she hit the lights. This room was the smallest on the floor and needed work, but it was warm and weatherproofed and had working kitchen appliances as well as a hot shower, sink and toilet. “I’ll offer you the same rate as Fletcher quoted. You can work off the rent by fixing up the basement and taking care of some of the problems in the other units. I’ve got a list downstairs for Mrs. Newby’s apartment. The list needs to be trimmed a little, but at least it’s a place to start.”
“Same amount of rent?”
“Exactly.”
He eyed her for an instant before nodding curtly and extending his hand. “It’s a deal.”
Tina smiled widely, so pleased she looked about ready to burst. “So we’re going to be neighbors.”
“Appears as such,” Jenner said just as the front door to the vestibule swung open and Max strode inside. He paused under the chandelier in the hallway and glanced up, his sea-colored eyes stormy.
Skye couldn’t help the little flip her heart did at the sight of him. Where Jenner was range tough and handsome, Max was more polished and finer-featured. Yet he had the same underlying thread of steel in his stance. He took the stairs two at a time and stopped on the landing just as Mrs. Newby opened her door the width of the security chain, peered out, then shut the door quickly again, as if expecting the two newcomers to try to break into her apartment.
“I wondered when you’d show up,” Jenner drawled with a knowing smile. “Just in time to help me move in.”
“Right,” Max replied sarcastically.
Skye introduced Tina to the second McKee brother to appear within ten minutes, then Jenner announced he was going to settle in. Tina reluctantly let herself into her own apartment, giving Skye a glimpse of old furniture and clothes strewed over an ironing board set up in the middle of her little living room. Heavy-metal music filtered into the hallway as Max and Skye headed downstairs.
Once they were back in her apartment, Max kicked the door shut. “I don’t like him being here.”
“Who?” she asked, then laughed at the jealousy evident in his features. “Jenner? Why not?”
“He’s irresponsible and spends too much time at the Black Anvil.”
Skye rolled her eyes and laughed again. “I’m not going to marry him, Max.” He shot her a look that made her regret her careless reply. The subject of marriage cut too deep. For both of them. She cleared her throat. “What I’m trying to say is that as long as he does what I ask, I don’t care where he hangs out.”
Jaw clench
ed, Max didn’t argue. He looked uncomfortable, as if his brother’s presence upstairs was bothering him. “Let’s go out,” he finally said.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.” He grabbed hold of her hand and the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Anywhere? That sounds dangerous.”
“It could be,” he allowed, his voice low and seductive.
“You’re on.” She locked the door behind her and followed him out to his truck. They drove out of town and far up into the foothills of the Blue Mountains.
Max pulled into a lane barred by a gate and posted with No Trespassing signs. “You own this?” she asked when he unlocked the gate.
“The company does.” His expression grew dark as the pickup rumbled through the forest. “It was owned by Ned Jansen. Dad got this piece along with the copper mine.” They stopped in a clearing, and through the trees the twinkling lights of Rimrock winked in the valley like diamonds.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand and helping her out of the truck. Together, hand in hand, they walked through the tall, dry grass of the clearing. Max folded her into his arms and his lips found hers in a kiss that was as warm as morning sunshine.
With a sigh, Skye melted into his arms and they fell onto a bed of sun-bleached grass and wildflowers. Max’s fingers tangled in the curling blond strands of Skye’s hair. “I never forgot you,” he admitted as the wind whispered through the surrounding trees. “All the time we were apart, as hard as I tried, I never forgot you.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes as dark as the night. “And I never forgot you,” she said before dragging his head down to hers again.
Rex Stone was a disagreeable man. He seemed to think that Skye knew something about Jonah McKee’s death and he didn’t bother to hide the fact.
“He broke you arid Max up, didn’t he?” Rex was seated in one of the old club chairs Skye had inherited from Ralph Fletcher. Dressed in a cotton shirt and brown polyester slacks, he crossed one leg over the other and studied Skye with a look as hard as nails.
