Oddly, the thought made Kieran uncomfortable. He realized with a start what was bothering him—tonight marked a new stage in the life of their community.
Five years ago, after he'd hit on the scheme of providing shares in exchange for services, the project had belonged only to Kieran, Lew, Pete and an attorney friend, Joel Phillips. Together they'd drawn up the plans and estimated the needed financing, the number of workers and a timetable.
In the second stage, after securing permits and pooling their credit, the three of them had been joined by construction workers, plumbers and other specialists who had a taste for risk-taking and were willing to work for minimum wage in exchange for shares.
Although the hoped-for completion of the hotel this fall loomed large in Kieran's plans, he hadn't given much thought to the other alterations in store. The masculine camaraderie and frontier-camp mentality of the town were bound to change.
The transition had begun sooner than expected. For this weekend, at least, he'd have to think about what he was wearing, what sort of language he used and who might be occupying the public bathing facilities.
His friends wouldn't always be available at the drop of a hat for poker or softball. Hell, somebody might object to keeping the TV in the rec hall permanently tuned to a sports channel.
And, now that Kieran considered it, hadn't the objective been for the men to find serious relationships to break up their isolation? Things might never return to what he’d come to consider normal.
You’re over thinking this. The only matter at stake was his peace of mind for one weekend.
"Are you staying?" he asked Samantha.
After a brief pause, she said, "Of course."
"Without so much as a toothbrush?" he joked.
Samantha folded her arms. "I have more than a toothbrush. I have a whole suitcase. Make that, several."
“Seriously?” He’d like an explanation. She didn’t seem eager to give him one, though.
"Who cares about toiletries?" Beth shook back her dark hair. "The whole bunch of us are staying and we don’t have so much as a change of underwear. We'll just wash everything in the rest room."
Kieran pictured the entire town strewn with lingerie. Well, he doubted the men would object.
Samantha tapped his arm. "Let’s take a walk."
"Sure." After the heat of the tango, he’d enjoy a stroll with Samantha. Although he was giving the men the next day off, Kieran never relaxed his own work schedule, so he doubted he'd see much of her tomorrow...unless she cared to share his bed tonight.
Before that happened, he’d have to clarify that he was in no position to take on a complicated relationship. Next Tuesday, Kieran had a meeting scheduled with his lawyer and Beatrice. Everything depended on it.
"Tell me about Hidden Hot Springs," Samantha said as they stepped into the cool air. “How old is the church?"
"It dates from the last century," Kieran replied.
As they ambled through the modest downtown, he described the Indian legend that the hot springs had restorative powers, and how the region had been occupied by missionaries and ranchers since the 1700s. Then, in the nineteenth century, gold had been discovered in some nearby canyons. Prospectors had rushed in. A few netted a fortune, most lost everything, and some disappeared, sparking stories of wandering ghosts and hidden treasure.
Despite Samantha's occasional questions, Kieran didn’t feel that he had her full attention. From the tightness of her expression, he gathered she was working up to asking for whatever had drawn her out here.
For someone with as much sheer nerve as she'd displayed on the highway, she was mighty elusive tonight. What was on her mind, anyway?
At the edge of town, they sat on a boulder beside the road. Beyond them, tufts of brush escorted the two-lane road into the canyon. A few miles farther, the road became a dirt path, ending in a small, rugged campground. The only people who traveled this way were naturalists and, rarely, a wildly optimistic prospector.
Overhead, the stars shone with remarkable brilliance, thanks to the absence of light pollution. Samantha coughed. "Mind if I ask a few things?"
"Shoot." Kieran rested his elbows on his knees.
"Which side of the bed do you sleep on?"
He snorted. “Are you propositioning me?”
“Just answer, please.”
"The right," he said, humoring her.
"Do you squeeze the toothpaste from the middle or the bottom?" she asked.
This had to be some kind of game. "The middle." Then he added, "Until it starts to run out. "
From far off rose the plaintive wail of a coyote, soon joined by a chorus of yips and howls. The cacophony echoed off the canyon walls.
Samantha shivered. The moon rising over the canyon walls gave her an ethereal air, like a woman from another time. Slipping his arm around her, Kieran discovered she was trembling.
Until this moment he hadn’t pictured her as vulnerable. While Samantha’s spirit might make her a fair match for Kieran, they were on the edge of the wilderness. In places like this, in the frontier days, men and women had needed each other simply to survive.
She gave no indication whether his answers pleased her, just continued with her interrogation. “Are you the jealous type?"
“Nope,” he said. "If I can't trust a woman, I’d rather not be involved with her."
The faint breeze ruffled her curly hair as she nodded. It was the first indication that she liked his answers. Was this her method of vetting a potential boyfriend? Usually women asked about his marital history or, with varying degrees of subtlety, the state of his bank account.
"Anything else?" Kieran tried to keep his tone serious.
"Yes." Samantha plunged ahead. "Do you wear pajamas or sleep in the nude?"
"That's a bit personal, don't you think?" This might be an elaborate joke at his expense. "Are you writing a book about men's sleep habits, or did my men put you up to this?"
"You don't smoke, do you?" she continued doggedly. "I noticed you don't smell of tobacco, so I figured you don't, but I’d like to make sure."
Talking to Samantha was like negotiating a maze. "Why do you care?"
The breeze brought the scent of a night-blooming flower. Behind them in the brush Kieran heard a swish, possibly the cub from this afternoon, but more likely a raccoon. Certainly not a possum—they moved almost noiselessly.
He bent over, picked up a small rock and chucked it toward the bushes. There was another swish, moving away through the bushes.
"You could have hurt it! Whatever it is,” Samantha protested.
Kieran chuckled. "If it was an animal, I doubt it. I aimed too high. If someone was spying on us, I devoutly hope so."
"You think I'm setting you up?" she demanded.
He met her gaze. "No," he said. "That doesn't mean someone isn’t spying on us. However, apparently they aren't any more."
"Good." Samantha let out a long breath. "That would be awful."
"Why?"
"Because…” She broke off.
"Because what?” Kieran was curious to hear what came next. She might offer to spend the night with him—I hope--or ask for a job, or—I should have thought of this sooner--demand an interview for her blog.
He wasn’t remotely prepared for what she actually said. It was: "Will you marry me?"
Chapter Five
Kieran cleared his throat. "Beg pardon?"
"You guys did advertise for brides, right?" Samantha glared at him. "Well, am I right?"
"Yes, in a manner of speaking." He'd been prepared for almost anything but this. "I didn't expect to have one drop in my lap the first night." Not that he’d been seeking a bride for himself, but it seemed rude to say that.
"Have I offered to drop in your lap?" she returned.
"Indulge my curiosity," Kieran said. "Why do you want to marry me?"
"I like the way you tango."
He decided to play along. “I have a few questions that I ask of any potent
ial bride.”
She tilted her head. Strongly tempted to kiss her parted lips, Kieran held himself in check. "Can you cook?"
"Cook?" She repeated the word as if it had some hidden meaning. "In this day of frozen dinners and takeout?"
"Part of any good marriage, in my opinion.”
"Of all the outdated ..." She stopped. "It’s negotiable."
"Can’t cook,” he summed up. “What else should I know about you?”
"I'm grouchy in the morning." Samantha grimaced, as if to demonstrate. "Sometimes I smile by noon. That's the best I can promise."
“Is that why your marriage plans broke off?”
“None of your business.”
“It is if I’m going to marry you.” Kieran was about to add, “Which I’m not.” Then an idea occurred to him.
Beatrice's suit claimed the will should be invalidated because it referred to Kieran and his wife, who didn't exist. It was merely an addendum to her main point, that her uncle had been incompetent, but Kieran wouldn't mind depriving his cousin of one piece of ammunition. The will didn't specify which wife, nor when they had to get married. If he were married, however briefly, the term would be fulfilled.
Of course, that would give Samantha a half-interest in Hidden Hot Springs, but she could quitclaim it right back to him. That would be one of his conditions—if he went ahead with this cockamamie scheme.
No matter how preposterous this sounded, apparently the woman had driven out here with matrimony in mind and happened to fix on him. Was she desperate to have children? Trying to please her family? In either case, she might insist on staying married. That would be a problem.
What an ironic situation. One woman had abandoned him after a relationship lasting more than a year, while Samantha seemed ready to marry him on a moment's notice. Or was this some crank scheme?
“You don’t send emails to people offering marriage in exchange for their bank account number, do you?” he inquired.
She planted her hands on her hips.
He took that as a No. “We should sleep on this." When her scowl deepened, Kieran added, "I didn’t mean that literally, but a test drive isn’t a bad idea."
"Test drive?" she sputtered. "By the time I got done with you, you'd have two flat tires and a dead battery."
Kieran threw back his head and laughed. "I’ve never had a dead battery."
He heard her quick intake of breath. When their eyes met, hers were sparkling as if she might take him up on his offer.
"Care to check me out under the hood?" he prodded.
"I already drove for two hours today. I wouldn't want my sports car to think I'm easy." With that, Samantha stood up and smoothed her blouse, pressing it across her breasts. Did she have any idea how that affected a man?
When she swung around and headed into town, Kieran enjoyed the sight of her curved silhouette, then caught up with her in long strides. "The ground gets awfully hard at night in those tents."
"And something's going to be awfully hard tonight in your cabin, too," she tossed at him.
He touched her arm. "I wish you'd tell me why you want to marry me when you're obviously not swooning with passion.”
She halted. "I will tell you, but only after you agree."
Kieran was about to point out the unfairness of this, when he remembered his ulterior motive. "I'd have to impose a few conditions."
"I can just imagine what—" Samantha stopped as they came within earshot of half a dozen men lounging outside the rec hall. Judging by the ragged edge to their voices as they argued about the merits of their favorite baseball teams, Kieran might have to break up a fight later.
He understood their bad moods. Other guys who'd found lady friends were busy across the road, raising tents and rolling out sleeping bags. These men were angry because they'd lost out.
Kieran greeted the workers, trying to ignore how their gazes lingered on Samantha. He’d just assured her he wasn’t the jealous type, hadn’t he?
"I’d like your opinions,” he told the men. "Shall we try this again? Instead of just San Diego County, we could extend our reach north to Orange County.”
"Waste of time," grumbled Mack, one of the men who'd championed the mixer in the first place.
"It's discouraging," Kieran agreed. "But don’t forget, we had them outnumbered tonight. Still, this was a strong a response, considering the distance.”
“A lot of women are tired of online dating,” Samantha put in. “People lie. And no one likes being rejected later when they meet in person.”
The men's expressions began to clear. "Yeah, why not?" said a guy. "It wasn't that much work to set up."
"I'm up for a gamble,” added the fellow beside him. "If you put the odds enough in your favor, you're sure to win sooner or later."
"Encourage the ladies to organize carpools," suggested Samantha. "So they don’t have to drive all this way by themselves."
Soon the men were discussing how to set up a Facebook page. Kieran drew Samantha away.
"Good suggestions," he said.
"They’re nice guys." Her earlier breeziness had yielded to a serious mood. "And you handled them well. I liked the way you redirected their anger, giving them a positive focus."
Pleased, Kieran asked, "You ever worked in management?"
Samantha shrugged. "I never stay at one job long enough. I like to keep moving."
Then why did she want to marry a man who was obviously rooted in one place? Kieran was beginning to wonder if this lady might be running from the law. What could her crime be—lying about her age on her driver's license?
They had reached the impromptu campsite. "I haven't slept in a tent since I was a kid," Samantha observed as Kieran helped her over the uneven terrain. "Is there a chiropractor in town?"
"Did I mention that I give a world-class back rub?"
She stretched her shoulders. "I'll bet you say that to all the ladies."
"It usually works, too. Remember that you’re welcome to stay at my cabin."
She made no response. Well, he didn’t expect her to take him up on the invitation…yet.
Her friend Mary Anne beamed as they approached. "This is going to be fun!" she chortled. "We can share this one. It's like a dollhouse inside."
Samantha peered into the tiny tent. "Too bad we're not doll size."
"Don't worry." Pete plumped a pillow and tossed it into the tent. "In this fresh air, you'll sleep like babies."
Kieran chalked up his protective instinct to his sense of responsibility for whatever happened on his land. Nevertheless, he said, "It might be wise for some of the guys to sleep out here, in case anybody needs anything in the night."
Pete agreed readily. "We'll take good care of them, boss."
Kieran considered volunteering to stick around, but even if the men were taking tomorrow off, he couldn't afford to. And he certainly wasn't going to lose sleep over a stubborn woman. If she didn't like tents, she could perfectly well stay at his cabin.
However, he’d rather she didn’t break her citified neck stumbling around in the dark. "Can I bring anything from your car?"
The answer turned out to be two large suitcases. The woman must have packed every stitch of clothing and pair of shoes she owned.
She'd come prepared. The question was, prepared for what?
Finally Kieran bid Samantha good-night and hiked to his cabin. The last thing he saw, looking back, was a slim figure with curly hair standing on a rise of ground.
She gazed across the canyon as if trying to figure out what the hell she'd gotten herself into. He was wondering the same thing.
*
Samantha awakened slowly. She noticed Mary Anne's regular breathing, then the murmur of voices in the distance.
Her shoulders and back had stiffened and her feet ached. Why did people sing about the joys of camping? What were they, masochists? She hadn't felt this uncomfortable since she was twelve years old and spent the week at Girl Scout camp. It had been one of those expe
riences that distinguish real life from the cheery optimism of children's stories.
If a TV studio had produced the tale, Samantha would have discovered the joy of living in harmony with nature. Instead, she'd antagonized the camp counselors by tipping over her canoe, weaving the words "Camp Sucks" into her beadwork and ordering pizza delivered from town. The last straw came when she dyed her hair, and that of her two best friends, bright purple. It was the most shocking color she could find at the local drugstore.
Samantha was sent home in disgrace. The last thing she remembered were the smirking faces of her worst enemies, two girls who wore designer sportswear and made snide remarks about the less attractive campers. Samantha's only regret was that she hadn't stayed long enough to give them boot-camp haircuts in their sleep.
She rolled over, grateful that she wasn't in a bunk bed and that her red-haired companion was long past age twelve. Mary Anne. Hidden Hot Springs.
Kieran.
She sat upright with a start. Had she really proposed to a total stranger?
She could still feel his hard body, masterful yet gentle, against hers as they tangoed. She pictured his face in the moonlight, provocative and… bigheaded.
How could she marry such a man, even temporarily? She'd been seeking someone easy to manipulate, a brainless hunk who would adore her, protect her and then sadly whisper, “Sayonara.” Kieran was anything but that.
Her proposal had been a mistake. Thank goodness there was time to rectify it.
Samantha glanced around, trying to decide how to arrange her usual morning ritual of washing up. Merely getting dressed without waking Mary Anne posed a challenge.
There hadn't been room in the tent for her suitcases, so she'd left them outside. Pulling on her robe, Samantha poked her head out of the tent.
For a stunned moment, she didn't see the cases anywhere. Then she spotted them several dozen feet down the slope. Who had moved them?
Shoving her feet into sandals, she padded down the hill. When she reached the luggage, Samantha discovered to her horror that one latch had popped open on the larger suitcase, and a T-shirt was sticking into view. Had someone rummaged through her belongings? Who would do such a thing?
Run, Run, Runaway Bride Page 5
