A stupid recipe if he'd ever seen one. Much as Kieran liked chocolate, cheesecake was best left pure and simple. If this was a test run, he’d prefer to try a physics experiment involving her bra and aerodynamics that would leave it dangling from the highest shelf.
Pay attention. If she notices your mind wandering, she’ll use it against you.
He focused on observing Samantha deftly whipping the cream cheese with her hand mixer. "Where'd you learn to bake?" he asked.
"My landlady taught me, when 1 lived in Paris," she said. “Of course, we didn’t exactly use cream cheese, but a French equivalent.”
“You lived in Paris?”
“I’ve lived in a lot of places.”
A great idea, in theory. In reality, Kieran thought the constant adaptation to new customs and surroundings would wear thin. “Don't you get tired of being on the move?"
Her amber eyes widened in surprise. "I like exploring in new places and learning languages.”
Kieran thought about the closeness that had developed between him and his men over the years. "But you don’t have a chance to get close to people."
"Depends on your personality." Samantha scraped the rim of the bowl with a spatula. "I've only known Mary Anne for a few months and she's one of my best friends. I've only known Beth for a week and a half, and we get along great. After I leave, I’m sure we’ll stay in touch."
She was having trouble pouring the mixture into the graham-cracker crust, so Kieran reached over and held the heavy bowl while she scraped out the contents. Their hands bumped, sending a tiny thrill through him. But he stood motionless, watching the quick efficiency of her movements. Samantha worked more rapidly and with less wasted motion than anyone he'd ever met.
That was obviously how she approached everything in life. In the weeks since they’d met, she'd reorganized the town's social life, memorized most of the men's names and thrown his thoughts into turmoil.
"Let's do yours," Samantha said. "Kieran?"
Oh, damn, she meant his cheesecake. Obligingly, he tilted his bowl and let her empty the chocolate-infused mixture into the prepared crust. "So you breeze into people's lives like Mary Poppins, solve their problems and float away when the wind changes?"
"That’s the idea." Samantha licked a drop of filling that had landed on the back of her hand. "Now we stick these in the oven for twenty-five minutes.”
Another opportunity to needle her. “Any ideas how we can pass the time?”
“Yes. We can make the toppings."
Oh, that. Kieran held the oven door for her. Despite a light breeze from the open rear door, the kitchen was heating up. It was a crazy idea, baking cheesecakes on such a hot day.
Well, soon enough, she’d blow away and he'd have peace and quiet in his cabin. Not to mention a good night's sleep.
He should be looking forward to that. But he wasn’t.
*
Beth and Lew joined them a short time later. They smelled the cheesecakes on their way to dinner, stopped in and didn't leave until bedtime. On the minus side, not much was left for anyone else to sample. On the plus side, at least she and Kieran hadn’t eaten all of it themselves.
Already, Samantha noticed as the four of them lounged in the living room, the other couple finished sentences for each other. Lew appeared more relaxed, and Beth glowed.
From beneath her lashes, Samantha studied Kieran, who was listening to Beth's tale of how one of her students insisted on bringing a dog to class. A rumpled forelock gave him a boyish air, and his strong features softened as Beth described the boy's insistence that his pooch needed an education, too.
She wondered how it would feel if, like Beth, she were prepared to spend the rest of her life with one man. The prospect made Samantha's head ache.
"I finally convinced him to take the dog to a weekend obedience class," Beth said. "Not only did it solve my problem, but his mother wrote me a thank-you note."
Lew draped an arm around her shoulders. "You’re great with kids."
Beth beamed at him. "I’ll bet you would be, too."
"I've always wanted to be a father."
"Good," she murmured.
They were talking about having children? Samantha wasn’t sure why that discovery bothered her. She wasn't ready for motherhood. And if her experiences of the past month had taught her anything, it was that she wasn't ready for marriage, either.
If her biological alarm clock went off, she’d hit the snooze button, fast.
*
On Thursday morning, the scrape of the front door opening awakened Kieran. Judging by the paleness of the light filtering through the windows, it must be about five-thirty. Why had Samantha gone out at this hour, when she usually slept late?
Throwing off his light blanket, Kieran sat up on the inflated mattress. The air felt cool against his chest; he'd taken to wearing pajama bottoms, a reluctant concession to modesty.
After stretching, he moved to the doorway and gazed out. Samantha stood at the edge of the clearing with her back to him, the dawn light silhouetting her body in the clingy nightgown. Her short hair formed a brown halo.
From her position, Kieran suspected, she could see for quite a distance over the valley floor. At this hour she would have a view of a land almost primeval in its wildness. What was she was staring at so raptly?
Disinclined to disturb her, he watched the morning breeze ruffle her hair and billow her nightgown. He recalled an image of her from a dream, posing atop a rock at the hot springs. This morning more than ever, she resembled a nymph that ruled over brooks and streams.
It startled him when Samantha said, "I wonder what he's doing down there." Her voice drifted to him quite clearly.
After shoving his feet into a pair of huaraches, Kieran joined her. He followed her gaze down the hill and across the highway to Uncle Albert's cabin.
The lion cub was frolicking in the bushes, pouncing like a kitten on a tiny, fast-dodging prey, perhaps a chipmunk or a mouse. It kept escaping, and the cub kept pouncing, until finally the little cat lifted its head triumphantly with breakfast dangling from its mouth.
"Guess he can fix his own meals." Samantha didn't stir from her lookout post. "I'm surprised his mama hasn't found him by now, though."
"I wish Fish and Game would hurry up," Kieran said.
"I'll kind of miss the little guy." Samantha wrinkled her nose. "But not his mother."
They stood for a moment longer, facing the quiet valley. The road lay silent, and a bend hid the town. Although bushes obscured the hot springs, steam rose into the morning clarity.
"Starting to appreciate nature?" he asked Samantha.
For once, she didn't rip back at him. "I guess I am," she said. "You have to slow your rhythms and get in sync before you can perceive the heart of the place. I never tuned in to butterflies and wildflowers before."
"Planning to take up bird-watching?" Kieran prompted. “You might spot a golden eagle one of the these days.”
Her expression was wistful as she swung back toward the house. "I doubt I’ll be here long enough."
*
Samantha called the D.A.'s office on Friday, using a disposable phone. Mrs. Gray had two pieces of news for her.
"Hank's bail was revoked. He’s behind bars again," she said. "You can stop lying low."
"If he got out once, he can do it again." Hank seemed to possess almost magical powers to manipulate the system. "I prefer to keep moving."
"I had a feeling you'd say that." The secretary clicked her tongue. "I hate to say this, Ms. Avery, but I'm beginning to suspect you're paranoid."
"Paranoid but alive," Samantha replied.
"As to this business about a detective...." The older woman hesitated. "I could get in trouble for this. It's not my place to recommend investigators."
Samantha strove to reassure her. "It's not an official recommendation, just the name of someone reputable."
"Well, several people have spoken highly of a Mr. James Dunaway," said M
rs. Gray. "He works out of his home in La Jolla." She gave the seaside community its correct Spanish pronunciation, la hoya. "I've spoken with him, and he's agreed to discuss the case with you. I have no idea how much he charges."
“Does he have a website?”
“He says he’s working on one.”
Samantha jotted down the man’s number. "Thanks, Mrs. Gray. I appreciate this."
“Think nothing of it."
She didn't follow up immediately, because Beth dropped by and they took lunch to the men. The heat wave had cooled by a good twenty degrees, making a shady picnic outing a pleasure.
The conversation at lunch concerned the hotel’s completion. Work was proceeding ahead of schedule. The news about Beatrice's lawsuit had galvanized the men, who took out their anger by working even harder.
The two couples discussed the coming weekend. A barbecue and softball play-offs were planned, and some of the women from the last mixer would be visiting. Samantha kept her fingers crossed, hoping Alice would deliver on her promise to bring Mary Anne.
Kieran seemed distracted, and excused himself early. "It's that cousin of his," Lew informed the women. "They’ve set a court date next Friday on her preliminary injunction. It's the day before the Fourth of July holiday—how's that for rotten timing?"
"I hate that woman," Beth said.
"You've never met her," Samantha pointed out.
"I hate her, anyway." Beth glanced at Lew. "I can see what she's doing to these guys, how stressed they are. It's rotten."
Samantha pictured the angular, arrogant woman she’d met at the lawyer’s office. “Well, if you did meet her, you’d dislike her even more.”
After lunch, the women went to Lew's cabin to discuss decorations for the cheesecake festival. They settled on red, white, blue and forest green.
"That’s more interesting than just red, white and blue," Beth said. "The green can stand for Hidden Hot Springs itself. You know, how the high water table makes the desert bloom."
"Great." Samantha stood up.
"Let’s start lettering directional signs," Beth suggested.
"I've got a call to make." It was after two, and if Samantha didn’t reach James Dunaway today, she might have to wait until Monday. "I'll help you later."
"Don't be long," said her friend. "This is a lot more fun when I have someone to talk to."
"For me, too."
As Samantha left, she thought about Beth and Lew getting married and tried to picture life here after she left. Would Mary Anne and Pete reconnect? Would Beatrice win her suit? If Kieran succeeded, how would the hotel and the town look in another year? It seemed a shame to miss all that. But Samantha had never worried about such things in any of the other places she'd lived, so why start now?
Perhaps she could visit. But she’d be an insider. As for possibly seeing Kieran with a new woman…Samantha shook off the image.
She found a comfortable spot on some rocks where her phone picked up a decent signal. At the number Mrs. Gray had given her, a man answered on the second ring.
He had a gruff voice with a slight Southern accent. "Dunaway Detective Agency."
"Mr. Dunaway? My name is Samantha Avery." She explained the situation involving Beatrice. "Given her unsavory past, she must be in trouble somewhere. There might be a warrant out for her arrest. We need to stop her before next Friday.”
He asked a few questions, then said, "I think I can help you."
"What do you charge?" Samantha asked.
"A hundred dollars an hour."
She gulped. "Do you take credit cards?"
"Yes," he said, to her relief.
"Any idea—I mean, how many hours do you think it will require?" she asked.
“Hard to tell.” His mumble struck her as somehow familiar—was that the effect of her nerves?
“Do you have a minimum?” Samantha refused to write the man what amounted to a blank check.
“Why don’t I put in five hours and after you see what I’ve learned, we can decide whether to proceed?” Dunaway said.
“Fair enough.” Five hundred dollars was a lot from Samantha’s dwindling savings, but Kieran deserved no less. "How soon can I expect results?"
"By the middle of next week," he said. "Where can I reach you?"
"I'll call you," Samantha said. "Thanks, Mr. Dunaway. This is important."
"All my cases are important. Talk to you next week," he said.
That left only a few days before Beatrice's court date. But if he found something material, that should be enough.
*
It was mid afternoon on Saturday before Kieran knocked off work. He was just shuffling papers and double-checking accounting figures to keep his mind off next Friday's showdown.
Joel Phillips had said Kieran didn't have to appear in court. In fact, the lawyer preferred for him to stay away. Joel had picked up hints that Beatrice would portray herself as a victimized woman. Familiar with the judge assigned to the case, the attorney believed Kieran's muscular build and strong presence might create sympathy for his cousin.
If there were only something he could do! Kieran's fists clenched, frustrated by his inability to take action. But he trusted Joel's assessment of the situation.
As he emerged from his office into the trailer lobby, Kieran saw Pete pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Going to the cookout tonight?"
His friend shook his head. "Not much point."
Kieran wondered what had gone wrong with Mary Anne. "Don't brood on it," he said. "Drop by and eat with us. It won't be the same without you."
Pete shrugged. Kieran left the trailer unsure what his friend planned to do.
Earlier, at noon, he'd heard the men knocking off work. They'd been buzzing with excitement about tonight’s cookout, even though there wouldn't be many women. The fact that another party was scheduled in a week had soothed hurt feelings.
Except for Pete's. He'd apparently fallen hard for one woman, and her rejection hurt. What was wrong with her, anyway? Samantha claimed that Mary Anne didn't believe a guy like Pete really cared for her. Why did women have to be so complicated?
As Kieran strolled toward town, the sound of cheerful shouting rose to meet him. What on earth were all those people up to?
Descending the path, he got his first clear view of the main street. Someone had strung a volleyball net across the middle of it, with ragged teams of men and women fanned out on either side.
Below, Lew popped the ball to Beth, who knocked it over the net. Mack fell to his knees and smashed the thing with his wrists, but it was clearly about to fall short.
With a whoop, Samantha raced forward, flinging herself at the ball and whacking it to safety. In her headlong rush, however, she lost her balance and fell onto the net.
It tipped over and down it went. The ball landed unattended while everyone rushed to her aid.
Kieran quickened his pace. He needn’t have bothered. Samantha scrambled to her feet, yelling, "Our point!"
Her team cheered. Beth and Lew's team shouted a good-natured protest, but soon the net was righted and the play resumed.
Kieran remained unnoticed on the sidelines. He was amazed that Samantha had become part of the community so fast. She fit in naturally. All that flitting around the globe had paid off. Except where did it end?
His thoughts broke off as she jumped up and down, hollering encouragement while Ernie lumbered toward the ball. When the worker stumbled and knocked the ball sideways, she called, "Way to fake them out!" Everyone laughed, including Ernie.
Kieran couldn’t believe that Hidden Hot Springs meant no more to her than the other places she'd lived.
Chapter Thirteen
The tantalizing aroma of the barbecue set Samantha's stomach growling. Finally, she gave up on waiting for Alice and Mary Anne.
She'd calculated they would arrive around six o'clock, and it was nearly seven. The other women, about two dozen in all, had showed up between early morning and mid afternoon, and cheered enthus
iastically for the softball play-offs. Four teams had been whittled to two for next weekend's championship.
Alice's shift usually ended at four. Had she been forced to work overtime? Had Mary Anne refused to come?
Samantha didn't dare call them at the office. Even if Hank was in jail, his accomplice hadn't been caught or, to the best of her knowledge, identified. Police had released little information, so perhaps they were closing in on someone—or utterly clueless.
With a sigh, Samantha abandoned her lookout post on the slope by the trailers and trudged to the picnic area. Her muscles aching from the volleyball game, she flexed her shoulders as she walked.
These past weeks had flown by. She'd never imagined that living in a small town could keep a person so busy.
Of course, she wouldn't normally be searching high and low for missing papers, but she'd also been helping Beth create banners and schedule activities for the holiday. Samantha enjoyed imagining how much fun people would have.
Everything seemed to be coming together—the town's blossoming romances, the work on the hotel, the lawsuit, her relationship with Kieran. Not coming together, she amended—coming to an end. One more week to go before the trial.
She was glad they had a holiday for one last blow-out celebration. Many years, being overseas, she hadn't celebrated the Fourth of July at all.
As she neared the picnic area, Samantha saw workers and guests queuing up for hamburgers or, for the vegetarians, portobello mushrooms. Good-natured banter floated through the air, mixing with the delicious smells of grilled food. This camaraderie was one of the things she would miss most.
She spotted Kieran by the condiment table, deep in conversation with Pete. The foreman stood with hands thrust in pockets, not bothering to brush back the wayward shock of hair that fell across his forehead.
Samantha got in line. A moment later, Kieran joined her. "No luck with your friends?"
She scrunched her face. "Not so much as a smoke signal. I guess they're not coming."
"It isn’t that late."
"It'll be dark soon."
He stood backwards in line, facing her. "I have to admit, you women do civilize things. The guys are having a great time."
Run, Run, Runaway Bride Page 14
