"We should lay claim to a regional food or special dish," Samantha added with growing enthusiasm. "Like some towns have a corn festival or a strawberry festival. There's a garlic festival, too."
She had a point, Kieran acknowledged. Also, throwing herself into such a big event might keep her—and him—out of trouble.
"I've heard of chili competitions," Lew offered.
"I know!" she said. "Pizza! Everybody loves that."
Kieran had to draw the line somewhere. "Nobody's going to drive two hours to a pizza festival, not with a pizza parlor on every corner.” Then inspiration hit. “Cheesecake!"
"Cheesecake?" Samantha repeated.
“You don’t mean sleazy photos, do you?” Lew drew himself up. “That’s not in keeping with our family-friendly environment.”
Where did he get that notion? “Of course not,” Kieran said. “I mean the kind with, uh, cheese in it. Or—hell, I don’t know what’s in the recipe. With toppings. Lots of toppings.”
“Strawberries,” Lew said. “Blueberries. And, uh, other berries.”
“We could plan a bake off competition.” Samantha appeared to be warming to the idea. “Promote the contest on the Internet.”
"I'd drive a couple of hours for homemade cheesecake,” Lew said. “Who wouldn't?"
Kieran immediately saw a plus side. “Someone will have to bake a couple of trial cheesecakes first. As an inspiration to others.”
“Your cook,” Samantha put in.
“Not a professional,” he said. “The guys, if they choose to enter, will have to use their rather primitive ovens. And mine’s as primitive as any.”
“You mean you’d like me to bake one?” Samantha asked.
“You could try.”
She considered. Just when he feared she’d decided against it, she said, "Might as well. It's the only kind of cake small enough to fit in your oven."
Lew chuckled, and the last shard of skepticism melted from Kieran’s soul. If he had a weak spot, it was for cheesecake. And he recognized a good promotional idea when he heard one. “Terrific."
"I'll tell Beth next time we talk," Lew said. "She's great at organizing events. This summer, the festival will be just for us locals, but once the hotel’s complete, it could become an annual event for tourists."
He and Samantha left the trailer together, ideas flying between them. Although Kieran had a stack of work to do, he remained standing in the middle of the room.
The Hidden Hot Springs Fourth of July Cheesecake Festival. He pictured families returning, year after year, first with babies, then toddlers, then growing youngsters.
But Samantha wouldn't be here. She was like a burst of fireworks, bright colors that shoot through the sky and vanish. Loud, stunning and ephemeral.
Glumly, Kieran dragged himself into his office to work.
*
Pleased as Samantha was by Kieran’s concurrence, one thing after another went wrong for the rest of the day. When she and Lew tried to discuss the festival idea with Pete, he showed little interest, finally admitting he doubted Mary Anne would attend. Didn't the man realize what a jewel that woman was? How could he give her up without a fight?
She'd been counting on Beth and Mary Anne to keep her company for the rest of her stay, and looking forward to watching their romances blossom. She'd especially dreamed of a happy outcome for Mary Anne.
Then, still mulling ways to bring Pete to his senses, she called the district attorney's office to complain about Hank's harassment on Friday. Instead of sympathizing, the secretary scolded her for leaving the area and insisted she reveal her whereabouts. Samantha slammed down the phone.
The third thing that went wrong was that she arrived for lunch just as Kieran was departing. He waved distractedly, half-eaten sandwich in hand, and bolted out the door. Was he really that busy or just afraid she might seduce him over French dip and julienne carrots?
This town was so devoid of entertainment that even a squabble with Kieran would have broken the monotony.
With the afternoon yawning ahead, Samantha paid a visit to the abandoned cabin by the highway. She conducted a top-to-bottom search for the missing diary, letters, or anything that might attest to Albert French's state of mind.
She found nothing in the rickety dresser or the kitchen drawers. There were only dust mice under the sofa, and a world-class collection of roaches—mercifully deceased--in the bathroom.
The proof might be here, but she couldn't find it. When she emerged with the vague notion of exploring the surrounding brush, a mountain lion cub padded into view around the rear corner of the cabin. Its kittenish face bared very unkittenish teeth, and she beat a hasty retreat across the highway and up the hill.
Banging open the door to Kieran's cabin, Samantha stared around in dismay. In daylight, it seemed even shabbier than at night. If she had to live here, she’d better clean up the place.
If there was one thing Samantha had never done, it was to act domestic. Well, she loved new experiences, didn’t she?
She’d spent the afternoon washing away grime and then lugging groceries from the general store. After leaving a message for Kieran to come home before dinner, Samantha set out to broil a steak. After putting it in the broiler, she got busy scalloping potatoes and fixing salad.
A few minutes later, smoke pouring from the oven reminded her that she'd forgotten the steak. After setting the blackened thing on the counter, she recalled the need to stir the potatoes, and found a solid layer of them stuck to the bottom of the pot.
At least the salad looked decent. Anyway, her husband had better not complain. Steak was steak, even burnt, and she’d pried loose most of the potatoes.
She hadn't thought about how the house must smell until the door slammed open and Kieran burst in. “Stand back!” Rushing to lift the fire extinguisher from the wall, he foamed the bride's first dinner.
“How could you?” Samantha gasped.
“What?” Kieran took in the mess on the stove and counter, including recipes printed from the Internet. “You were cooking? I thought the cabin was on fire."
Samantha wished she could laugh the whole thing off. Instead, tears stung her eyes. "I'd like to see you fix dinner!"
"I do appreciate the effort," Kieran said, and started to laugh. "Thank goodness I had no illusions that I’d be spending a month with Betty Crocker."
"I told you I can’t cook!" Pride made her add, "But I do bake a fine cheesecake."
He brought over a trash can and began scraping the mess into it. "Don't worry. There's always the dining hall."
Samantha gritted her teeth. She really could bake a cheesecake. In due time, she’d prove it.
At the dining hall, they found Mack, one of the construction workers, regaling the men with tales he'd picked up from a passing rock hunter. "Seems back in the gold-rush days, a fellow named Pegleg Smith found a fortune out in one of the canyons." The stocky man paused to tackle his roast beef and gravy. Still chewing, he added, "Then he lost it. That was out in the Borrego Badlands, I reckon."
"How'd he lose it?" Kieran leaned forward.
"Probably filed it under F in one of our filing cabinets," said Pete.
"The fellow I talked to didn't rightly know," Mack answered. "But he did claim that either Pegleg Smith or somebody else died out there, searching for it, and ever since there's been a skeleton running around chasing miners. Real scary thing with a lantern flickering through its ribs."
"Somebody’s been reading too much Stephen King," Lew commented.
"Wait'll you hear the other story he told," Mack said.
Samantha didn't stick around to find out what that was. She preferred to retreat early and avoid the inevitable awkward moment with Kieran at bedtime.
He said nothing when she returned her tray and slipped out the door. The evening air smelled fresh and tangy. She paused on the steps to gaze down the main street.
It hadn't grown any larger or any fancier since she'd first arrived, but it no long
er struck her as shabby. From this point, she could hear showers running in the bathhouse and the hoots and joking from inside the dining hall. The town’s coarse surface, like the rough faces of the men, reflected the vigorous life of a community. It was a life as deep and rich as that in any city. And unlike most cities, it welcomed a newcomer.
Except she could never be a part of it the way Kieran was. Nor like Beth, with her boundless enthusiasm and warmth, would become if she married Lew. Samantha was a city girl. Always had been.
As she paced along the path, the rocks dug into her thin-soled sandals. She ought to wear different shoes, except all she had was a suitcase full of strappy high heels. As for clothes, she’d have no use around here for her filmy dresses more suited to dining in Rome or celebrating Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
As Samantha passed the hotel turnoff, she tuned into the welter of night noises. A bird called insistently for a mate; the springs burbled as they boiled to the surface; and far off a coyote howled.
She shivered. Maybe it hadn't been so smart, venturing out here alone. She didn't think Hank could have traced her, but there might be other dangers.
Although Samantha never allowed potential perils to intimidate her while traveling, she also didn't take foolish chances. Usually she joined forces with a fellow tourist or friendly resident when she went exploring.
But there was no one around to break the silence, and clouds covered the stars. In the heavy darkness, she felt very much alone.
The cabin lay just ahead. Samantha resisted the instinct to quicken her pace, since she faced more risk of twisting an ankle than of meeting an ancient prospector’s skeleton.
With relief, she turned onto the lane leading up to the cabin. In a few feet, she would step inside and close the door behind her.
As she reached the clearing, Samantha noticed something glittering to one side. She hesitated, puzzled. The thing moved, and with a surge of unreality she found herself staring into two huge yellow eyes.
Samantha screamed.
Chapter Nine
Afterward, Kieran could never be sure whether he heard the scream or sensed Samantha’s danger. He was sitting in the dining hall, listening to Mack’s tall tales when a shiver ran up his spine.
Shoving back his chair, he leapt up, gazing around for his wife. "Where'd she go?" he demanded of his startled companions.
"She left," someone answered. "About ten minutes ago."
With a half-dozen men on his heels, Kieran ran into the street. To his dismay, he saw no sign of Samantha. Where the hell was she?
A scream pierced the air, from the direction of the cabin.
Kieran lit out at full speed, adrenaline pumping through his limbs. Why hadn't he taken her safety more seriously? She always seemed so damn sure of herself that he hadn't considered that she might run into danger. He spotted no unfamiliar vehicle that might belong to her ex-fiancé. But Kieran had heard real terror in Samantha's voice, and she wasn't the type to panic easily.
He flew up the hill, the men close behind. A burst of energy powered Kieran right into the clearing.
The scene that greeted him sent his heart hammering into his throat. Samantha stood near the pump, her back to him. Not ten feet beyond her, a female mountain lion crouched as if to spring.
His lady spitfire looked tiny and vulnerable standing before the cat. He estimated its weight at one-hundred-fifty pounds, a good fifty pounds less than his own, but it was all muscle, teeth and claws. Nature's perfect killing machine.
At least it looked well-fed. He doubted it had ventured here in search of prey; it must be seeking its cub.
Kieran remembered Uncle Albert's instructions. "You ever come up against a mountain lion, boy, you jump around and yell and wave your arms so you look bigger'n you are. That'll give 'em pause."
He strode toward Samantha. She cast him a grateful glance over her shoulder, but didn't turn her back to the cat. He admired her courage. If she'd tried to flee, the creature would instinctively have attacked.
"Hey!" Kieran yelled, and the cat flinched. When he stepped forward, the lion bared its fangs but didn't retreat.
The crackle of branches behind him indicated the men were approaching. The cat drew back by inches but showed no inclination to leave. He thought he recognized desperation in its eyes.
"We don't have your kitten," Kieran said. "Now beat it. Hey!" He shouted the syllable over and over, waving his arms threateningly. Why the hell didn't anybody else join him? What did they think this was, performance art?
His men must be frozen in shock. It wasn't Lew or Pete or any of the others who joined in his shouting; it was Samantha. "Get out! Go on!" She hopped up and down beside Kieran.
The lion gave her a dubious look, as if considering whether to refer her to the nearest psychiatrist, then loped off into the brush. Behind Kieran, someone let out a low whistle. "That was close."
Samantha sagged against him. Kieran scooped her into his arms, still so wired that he hardly noticed her weight.
"On balance, I think I'd rather come up against Hank," she muttered. "By the way, there's something wrong with my knees."
"Weak with relief.” Still holding her Kieran, swung around to face his men. "Well, boys, thanks for the moral support."
If there'd been more light, he was sure he would have seen plenty of red faces. "Sorry," one man muttered.
"Don't know what came over me."
"It won't happen again," said another.
As they scuffled off down the hill, he noticed they stayed in a clump. Kieran didn’t blame them, considering that the big cat still lurked out there.
Samantha nestled closer. She was shaking.
"We should get you to bed," Kieran murmured sympathetically. As he carried her over the threshold, he added, "This is getting to be a habit."
She wrapped her arms tighter around him and pressed her cheek to his chest.
*
Relief was too soft a word for what Samantha felt, she reflected as Kieran lowered her to the bed. Fear had gripped her with crushing force. Even inside the cabin, she could scarcely believe the danger had passed.
That mountain lion was huge. In zoos, she’d marveled at the sleek tigers and panthers, but nothing had prepared her for facing a large predator with no barriers between them.
She tried not to think about what might have happened. It wasn't in Samantha's nature to dwell on life's terrors, but tonight's experience had challenged everything.
She raised herself on her elbows. "Kieran?"
He paused in the doorway. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
"Just doing my job." He turned away.
"Kieran?"
After a beat, he swung toward her. "You don't have to keep thanking me."
"I don't plan to. It's just ... your job's not finished."
"Excuse me?"
How was she going to phrase this? "It might not be safe. To leave me alone, I mean," she said. "What if the lion comes back?"
"I'll lock the door," he assured her. "And I’ll be right out here. On the couch. You know, the one with the lumps."
Did he have to make this difficult? "I'm nervous. I never get nervous. But I am."
His jaw worked as if he found this admission amusing. "The woman who shoved me out of my own bedroom two nights ago, and who single-handedly decreed that the town must hold a Fourth of July festival, is afraid to sleep alone?"
Oh, for heaven’s sake! "Forget I mentioned it. I’ll be fine." If only her teeth didn’t chatter.
Returning, Kieran sat on the edge of the bed. "You've had a shock. I can stick around for a while."
Samantha tried to salvage a little pride. "If you insist."
Laughter burst from him. "Don't push your luck. By the way, if it’s too scary for me to leave the room while you change, I could cover my eyes." He gave an example, with plenty of space to peer between the fingers.
“Don’t be silly.” She felt foolish enough already. “Just…come right back.”
>
“Yes, ma’am.”
When he left, she changed quickly into her black lace nightgown, the only one she owned. Too revealing, she thought when she glimpsed herself in the narrow, clouded mirror. Then she ducked beneath the covers.
With fear banished, sleep crept over her. The last thing she noticed was Kieran slipping into the room wearing Superman pajamas. They were still creased from the package.
He filled them out exactly the way a superhero should. But try as she hard to fight her sleepiness, it claimed her, as if her brain needed to shut down
*
Although Kieran left the window ajar, the room was hot. After a brief internal debate, he slipped his shirt off over his head. He usually slept nude, but the last two nights he'd worn his robe. The Superman pajamas, a gag gift from Pete and Lew last Christmas, were the only ones he possessed.
Carefully, he stretched out on the bed, atop the covers. Beside him, Samantha stirred, muttered something about a cape and then subsided. He'd just stick around until she fell into a deep sleep, Kieran decided.
Her usually animated features took on a deceptive air of innocence. In the dappled moonlight, he studied the sweep of eyelashes against her cheek and the gentle parting of her lips. He knew how soft they would feel against his.
Kieran forced his thoughts back to the lioness. She’d obviously lost any fear of man. Arrangements would have to be made for the state Department of Fish and Game to relocate her and the cub to a remote area.
More pressing—and almost as scary--loomed tomorrow's meeting in San Diego with his lawyer and Beatrice. Now, there was a real man-eater.
While he’d enjoy showing up with Samantha, Kieran wasn’t convinced his marriage would help his case much. Beatrice's main contention, that her father hadn't been of sound mind, remained impossible to disprove.
Knowing she would never voluntarily step aside, he might offer her a share of the property in order to avoid years of litigation. Any reasonable person would accept, but he had never known his cousin to be reasonable.
Run, Run, Runaway Bride Page 10
