If it were Hank, he’d have invaded her tent, not just her baggage. Samantha knelt and opened the case, surprised and relieved to find nothing missing.
"What’s wrong?" The masculine voice drifted down from overhead. From the suppressed mirth underlying the deep tone, Samantha recognized it as Kieran’s.
When she twisted around, a dozen stiff muscles protested. "Ouch. Darn it."
His eyes glimmered a serene shade of blue. "Is this the morning grumpiness I've heard so much about?"'
Samantha gestured at the suitcase. "Somebody messed with my things."
His expression darkened. "I find that hard to believe. Not around here."
"The latch was open. Maybe some of the disappointed guys decided to play hockey with my stuff." It was the best explanation Samantha could think of.
Kieran knelt and examined the ground. At this angle, a shaft of sun raised golden highlights in his dark blond hair. His polo shirt stretched taut across his broad chest. Samantha's fingers flexed at the temptation to touch that powerful body.
Studying the ground, Kieran reminded her of a tracker on the trail of a bad guy. She half expected him to render a Sherlock Holmes pronouncement. Joe Blow from Trailer Nine hails from Savannah, and there's a trace of red Georgia clay in the tread of these shoes....
"Here's your culprit."
Samantha followed his gaze to the bare dirt. She didn't see any footprints. "What? The wind? An earthquake? Continental drift?"
Squatting on his heels, Kieran indicated a faint depression. "It should be obvious even to a city girl like you."
Samantha squinted. Although she hoped to grasp his meaning, the small dent meant nothing. "I give up."
"Mountain lion." Kieran rose and brushed off his slacks. "From the size of it, a cub. I saw one yesterday. I was hoping it had gone back to the hills."
"I should have figured it out right away. Small dent equals mountain lion. Everybody knows that." Then it struck Samantha that this was no joking matter. "You mean they come into your camps?"
"Not usually," Kieran said. "We make it a point not to leave food scraps around." He indicated an open bag of potato chips and a candy wrapper on the ground. "People should have been more careful last night."
Samantha's initial fears eased. "Oh, well, how much harm could a cub do?"
"Not much," Kieran agreed. "The problem is, the mother won't be far behind."
Samantha felt as if a giant cosmic boot should swing from the sky and plant itself in her rear end, for her foolishness in thinking she could live in Hidden Hot Springs. "This is a real fun place. If you’re the Jane Goodall type."
"Gee, from your reaction on the highway yesterday, I could have sworn you find apes a turn on," Kieran murmured. "Wasn't that what you mistook me for?"
Samantha was trying to frame a reply when the sound of voices from below brought her back to reality. What was she doing, standing in her bathrobe chatting with Kieran in full view of a bunch of guys? "Never mind. Is it safe to use the bathhouse?"
"Squeamish, are we?" He carried her suitcases down the slope for her. "I'll check it out."
Kieran strode into the structure first and shooed out a few lingering workmen. They grinned with embarrassment as they emerged, nodding to Samantha and a couple of other women who were waiting.
"All clear." Kieran waved them in.
Beth was among the early risers. "Reminds me of a trailer trip my family took one summer," she said, gazing around the large, concrete-floored bathroom with its rows of sinks, toilets and showers.
"Yeah, but I'll bet they had shower curtains," rejoined one of the women.
"And doors on the toilet stalls," muttered another.
Fortunately, the men had left them a stack of towels, along with soap and shampoo. "Thoughtful bunch," Samantha said.
"I suggested it to Lew last night," Beth replied. "We teachers plan ahead."
Mary Anne trundled in, yawning. Like most of the women, she wore her clothes from last night. "I guess a lot of the guys have private bathrooms in their trailers and cabins," she said.
"I hope so,” Beth responded. “I could use a long hot shower. I'd hate to think some guy was standing outside waiting."
"They won't mind," Samantha returned cheerfully. In her experience, men were able to last indefinite periods without a bathroom.
"You came prepared," one of the women said, eyeing Samantha's bathrobe.
"I'm always prepared," she responded. “As a defrocked Girl Scout, I have a lot to prove."
The women continued to converse while showering, which reduced their self-consciousness about the lack of privacy. Samantha was impressed by how little most of them seemed to mind the primitive surroundings.
One woman rhapsodized about the small-town atmosphere. Another admitted to feeling like a kid in a candy shop, in the presence of so many available males. Beth had already figured out the logistics of organizing weekly shopping trips to another town.
As she tried to restore shape to her mashed hair, Samantha reflected that if she stayed around here, she wouldn't be alone. Some of the other women might be visiting or eventually marrying their newfound Romeos.
Impressions of Kieran floated through her mind. That deep voice, his strong forearms, the protective way he'd ensured she was settled last night. Not bad.
Samantha finished cleaning up and changed into a pair of form-fitting green shorts. A print camp shirt completed the outfit. Her first intention had been to put on jeans and an old T-shirt, but that no longer seemed appropriate. If today were to be her last with Kieran, she’d like him to remember her with at least a trace of regret.
Inexplicably, the prospect of leaving troubled Samantha. Perhaps it was because of the risk of encountering Hank. Well, with the trial almost a month away, she could put distance between herself and San Diego. Surely she'd be safe in Los Angeles, or better yet, Las Vegas, across the state line.
But if Hank had found her once, he could do it again. Among strangers, how could she count on anyone to help her? They’d rather post pictures of her battered, bruised body on their websites.
When she emerged from the bathhouse, Kieran helped store her suitcases in her trunk. Most of the others had gone into the dining hall, and they were out of view of the bathhouse.
She was going to miss having a guy to help her. Especially this guy.
Better get this over with.
"About last night," Samantha said.
“What about it?” He closed her trunk.
“What I asked you. Everybody makes mistakes. Let's forget it, okay?"
Kieran leaned against her car, which appeared smaller than usual beside his large frame. "My offer for the use of my cabin still stands. You can take me up on it this evening."
"You have a lot of nerve." Her gaze lingered on his square jaw and tanned face. Yes, they tangoed together like Fred and Ginger. Yes, he made her quiver when he rubbed his thumb across her cheek, as he was doing now. But he was obstinate, obtuse and infuriating. "You are the most self-centered—"
Kieran lowered his mouth to hers. Surprise melted into pleasure as his lips parted hers and his tongue explored the sensitive inner rim of her teeth. A low rumble of pleasure tore from his throat…or was that hers?
His hand caressed the small of her back and urged her against him. Samantha became intimately aware of the tension in his muscles and of her nipples hardening against his chest. Damn, the man was dangerous.
He lifted his head. "Well?"
"Was that supposed to be a free sample?" she challenged, grateful that so far they’d avoided collecting an audience.
He caught her face in his hands and kissed her again, with deliberate thoroughness. Liquid heat oozed through Samantha's veins.
Kieran drew back. "Hungry?"
Reluctantly, Samantha nodded.
"Good. It smells like breakfast's ready." He caught her hand and tugged her toward the dining hall.
Darn him, he knew perfectly well that wasn't the kind of hu
nger she'd meant, Samantha thought. Chalk one up for Kieran, but it was the last point she'd let him score.
Inside the dining hall, the large space had been painted a warm mint green, and an all-weather carpet helped absorb the chatter from dozens of diners. It didn't feel at all like the austere, silent room where the boarding school students had taken their meals.
Samantha downed a muffin and a bowl of fresh fruit in a haze of sensory overload. She wasn't used to a man who stimulated her with the barest of touches. She could hardly look at Kieran, because if she did, he would almost certainly notice her confusion. He might also see from her flushed skin and overbright eyes that she wanted more of him.
Reflecting back on that crazy weekend in Acapulco with Hank, Samantha understood that she'd been lost in a happy buzz that sprang from margaritas, sunshine and ocean breezes. She'd mistaken Hank's calculated attentiveness for sex appeal and his compliments for caring.
Hank hadn't fallen in love with Samantha; he'd tried to collect her as a trophy. And she hadn't fallen in love, either. She'd foolishly believed in a shallow fantasy.
Hank had never come close to arousing the passion she'd felt a few minutes ago for Kieran—which was a good reason to head out of here today and hide elsewhere.
Samantha snapped out of her reverie to catch the edge of Kieran’s mischievous grin. "Something on your mind?” he murmured. “I've asked you twice to pass the salt."
"Considering that I was nearly mauled by mountain lions, I'm doing rather well." She plopped the salt shaker in front of him so hard crystals sprinkled the table. "Pepper, too?" She prepared to toss it up his nose.
"No, thanks." He brushed the front of his shirt, and she realized some of the flying salt had hit him.
"Sorry." She blurted the word like a dare. “You sure about the pepper?”
He ignored the question. “Done eating?"
She studied her half-empty plate. "Well ..."
"Good." He got to his feet. "We're overdue for a chat."
Reluctantly, she let Kieran draw her out of the dining hall. He escorted her across the street, up the rise and onto a path. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"My place."
"I have no intention of—"
"Don't flatter yourself." He caught her wrist as she stumbled over a tree root. "We need a private place to talk."
"I told you I changed my mind. There's nothing to discuss."
"Yes, there is," he said. "Our wedding plans."
Chapter Six
"There isn't going to be a wedding," Samantha protested as they rounded a bend in the path. "I've decided getting married is a bad idea."
While Kieran agreed, he didn’t intend to let her off the hook that easily. It was his turn to throw her off balance.
Literally as well as figuratively, he mused when the path narrowed, barely leaving room for them to walk side by side. Thanks to the lush undergrowth, she stumbled against him several times, but righted herself quickly.
"You refused to tell me why you wanted to marry me until I said yes." With his peripheral vision, Kieran watched the play of emotions on Samantha's face—confusion, irritation, uncertainty. "So I'm saying yes."
"As a strategy to find out why I suggested such an idiotic thing?”
"I wouldn't dream of prying into why you made a fool of yourself,” he deadpanned. “However, I mean it. Let’s tie the knot, walk down the aisle, the whole business.”
“Why?” Samantha demanded.
"Well, I've had time to consider the benefits as well as the drawbacks."
Alone in the silence of the cabin last night, Kieran had, indeed, given Samantha's proposal careful thought. The more he considered. it, the more sense it made to take a wife, even if he had to do most of the cooking. He was tired of eating every meal at the dining hall, tired of coming home to a silent cabin and tired of sleeping alone.
And when he faced Beatrice on Tuesday, he'd love to be able to flaunt a wife.
"Did you check on me last night?" Samantha asked unexpectedly.
Kieran ignored the question and gestured north, where a construction crane was visible above the manzanita trees. "That's where the hotel will be, over there."
"Well, did you?"
He continued speaking as if he hadn’t heard. "We'll pass the hot springs in a minute. The hotel will have spring water piped to a pool in the courtyard.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Samantha heaved an exasperated breath. "Did you check on me?" she repeated.
"Yes," Kieran admitted. "I woke up around midnight and heard coyotes howling. Just thought I'd be sure everyone was okay."
"You looked in on everyone?" Samantha demanded.
"A few tents selected at random." That was true, except for her tent, which hadn’t been random at all. He couldn't explain why he'd gone there. The coyotes howled almost every night, and they’d never posed a threat to humans.
Gazing down at her as she lay quiet in slumber, he'd noticed that her face had softened into a childlike sweetness. It had charmed Kieran.
"What's that?" She indicated a thick grove from which steam rose into the cool morning air.
"The springs," he said. "How about a dip?”
“Can we?”
“The sulphur smell takes a little getting used to, but the hot water feels great. I'll bet there’s a swimsuit in one of those bags of yours. Unless you’d prefer to do it au naturel.”
She threw him a steely look. "I agreed to talk in private. If you’d rather to go skinny-dipping, you're on your own."
“I’ll pass,” Kieran said. "I can do that any time."
Samantha folded her arms, then immediately unfolded them as she tripped and had to grab a branch for support. "Couldn't you pave this alley? It's a health hazard."
"It isn't an alley, it's a path, and it's supposed to be rustic," Kieran informed her. "It dates back to the Twenties, when they built the tourist cabins. There are only four still standing, three in use and one down by the road where my uncle lived."
“How much farther is it?”
“Right here,” he said as they emerged into a clearing.
While he’d grown accustomed to his cabin’s ramshackle appearance, now Kieran saw it through Samantha's eyes: the gray, weather-beaten wood, with an aging pump in front amid dry grasses. Or weeds, depending on one’s perspective.
“You live here?” she asked in disbelief.
“It’s comfy.” He pointed to the porch glider. “Have a seat.”
She strode ahead and whacked the cushions, sending dust flying. "I guess modern cleansers haven't reached this corner of the backwoods yet."
"What I need is a cleaning lady," Kieran returned. "Or a wife."
“Sexist oinker,” she responded affably.
“And proud of it.” Before she could respond, he marched into the house. A few rags and a bottle of cleanser later, he had the glider fit for use.
Samantha sank onto the seat, curled one leg under her and rocked with the other foot. As her lids drifted shut, she reminded Kieran of a cat. A very soft, cute cat, with claws temporarily sheathed.
He’d never pictured a woman living here, for good reason. Kieran imagined her stomping through his life, rearranging it to suit herself. The only rearranging he planned to allow involved furniture, dust and dishes. And no doubt she’d require him to do most of the heavy work. Still, it might be fun.
Are you insane?
Two birds twittered overhead before darting off in a mating dance. Samantha’s eyes opened. "Dinosaurs."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Scientists believe birds are descended from dinosaurs," she explained.
"You mean there’s a brontosaurus nesting in my pepper tree?" Kieran clucked his tongue in pretended dismay. "Worse than a mountain lion."
“They call it an apatosaurus these days and it’s an herbivore,” she told him. “So, what did you want to talk about?"
Kieran leaned against the porch railing. "I'm waiting for you to fulfill your promise."
"To tell you why I asked you to marry me?” She frowned. “Since I've changed my mind, there's nothing to explain. If that's all, I'll be heading back to town now." She didn’t stir from her comfortable position, however.
"What are you afraid of telling me?" he challenged. "Do I intimidate you?”
"Heck no." Samantha shrugged. "Okay, here goes.”
Tilting his head, he waited.
“Someone's trying to kill me and I need a place to hide."
He expected her to say she was joking. She didn’t. “Excuse me?”
"I’m the only witness to a crime. The trial isn’t for another month.”
She appeared to be in earnest. It was a plausible scenario, Kieran supposed, although he wondered how seriously to take the threat. "Is this some Mafia thing?"
“No. It's a jewel thief named Hank Torrance."
Kieran struggled to assemble the parts of the puzzle. “You witnessed a robbery?”
“Not exactly.” Her cheeks grew pink. “I, uh, nearly married him.”
“What stopped you?”
“He tried to give me a stolen emerald ring. At the wedding."
This was getting better and better. “At the altar?”
She nodded.
“Just to confirm, you were standing at the altar when he tried to slip a hot rock on your finger?” A key question occurred to him. “How’d you know it was stolen?”
Her eyes narrowed at him warningly. “I’d heard a description on the radio. It was an unusual ring.”
Tried as he might, Kieran couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “That takes nerve. You have to give the guy credit."
She glared. "No, I don’t.”
“What happened next?”
“I threw it at him, and it’s disappeared, so there goes that evidence. Now I’m the only witness and he’s trying to get rid of me. He's got an uncanny ability to track me down. I can't figure out how he does it."
“GPS?”
“The police removed a GPS tracker from my car.”
“A second GPS?”
“He’s too cheap. He didn’t even own a second toupee, and he lost his at the crime scene.”
Run, Run, Runaway Bride Page 6
