What a fool he was. Samantha had never pretended to be anything other than a woman who loved 'em and left 'em. Born to be a runaway bride, so to speak.
Last night hadn't changed a damn thing. For him, either, he told himself grimly. Not a damn thing.
*
Samantha called James Dunaway a couple of times during the week but only reached his voice mail. She was beginning to despair of reaching him. How dependable could he be if he never contacted her?
She had to leave Hidden Hot Springs right after the long weekend. She’d be staying at a motel near San Diego, a prospect that scared her. Fortunately, unlike the lengthy celebrity cases on television, Hank's trial should last only a day or two.
Until now, she'd tried not to think about her testimony, but she had to face the reality that it didn't amount to much. Without the accomplice or new evidence, he'd likely be convicted at most of receiving stolen property. Deputy DA Enright had said that due to a previous robbery conviction, Hank would have to serve jail time, but prisoners were often released early.
Then, judging by his current behavior, no doubt he’d seek revenge against Samantha. She wouldn’t be safe in this state, possibly even this country. Until recently, that wouldn’t have posed a huge problem, considering her love of travel.
But the idea of leaving appealed to her less and less. Saturday night, when Kieran had asked whether she expected to remarry, Samantha had doubted she'd ever meet anyone who compared to him. And when they made love again, she hadn’t even tried to raise her usual emotional defenses.
This was danger of a new and treacherous sort. She’d done her best to beat a quick retreat from Kieran, but how did she escape her own heart?
Especially when Kieran morphed from a grumpy workaholic into a charming lover. When Samantha awoke on Monday, she discovered wildflowers in a vase beside the bed. At dinner, Kieran swept her off to a private, candlelit table, and that night at home he proved that Saturday had only been a warm-up.
Tuesday evening, he serenaded her with "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" On Wednesday, after Samantha lost one of her favorite earrings, he presented her with a beautiful pair in silver and turquoise. He provided a receipt—with the price blacked out—to prove, he informed her with a wink, that he hadn’t robbed a jewelry store.
On Thursday afternoon Kieran left work to help Samantha and Beth decorate for the holiday. For him to knock off early was the most meaningful tribute of all.
As the men hung banners and unfolded tables, everyone pointedly avoided any reference to Beatrice or the injunction she’d be seeking tomorrow. Joel Phillips had as much at stake as any of them, since he was a shareholder, and Kieran assured them the attorney would do his best.
After dinner, while it was still light, he and Samantha revisited Uncle Albert's old cabin. They shared the conviction that if they’d missed something, this was their last chance to find it.
Inside, Kieran climbed on the rickety table and inspected the rafters for the umpteenth time. Samantha searched the bed frame for a secret compartment. They poked through the cabinets, thumping the sides to check for a hollow space, and peered into the oven.
Kieran’s hands fisted in frustration. "Unless he destroyed it, it must be here. Uncle Albert liked to snatch up his journal and jot an entry whenever he observed anything interesting. I'm sure he’d keep it close by." He punched the wall so hard Samantha jumped. "Sorry."
"That’s okay." She’d like to pound on something, too.
"I wish this weren't happening on your last week here." Kieran's mouth twisted. "It isn’t much fun, is it?"
"I'm having a great time." She wiped a spider web off her face, scarcely noticing the stickiness. Whatever squeamishness she’d once possessed had vanished during her sojourn here.
Kieran reached over to pluck a dust mouse from her hair. "What did you do, sweep the floor with your head?"
"I searched under the bed." She gazed at the crude walls and the rustic furniture. "It's hard to imagine your uncle living here alone for so long."
"I wonder if he ever made love on this bed," Kieran mused.
"Wasn’t he married?" Samantha asked. "He does have a daughter."
"Aunt Lou died a long time ago," Kieran said. "She never lived out here "
They sat on the wooden couch frame, so narrow they had to squeeze to fit. The hard bottom hurt, but it felt good to get off her feet. "Who built this cabin?" she asked.
"My uncle claimed he bought the property from a former general in the French Foreign Legion and his wife, who’d been a courtesan," Kieran said. "I think he bought it from a corporation, but that sounds more romantic."
Samantha chuckled. "I like the part about the French Foreign Legion."
"I like the part about the courtesan," said Kieran.
“This is a tight fit.” She wiggled, feeling stuck between him and the couch arm. “And my butt may have blisters.”
“It’d be more comfortable if you sat in my lap,” he teased.
“For me, sure,” she noted.
“Let’s try it.”
“I’m game if you are.” After a bit of shifting and squirming, she curled atop him. As she rested her cheek against his shoulder, she heard his breathing speed.
When he kissed her, Samantha gave herself over to the sensation. With her skirt loose around them and his denim-clad thighs moving against her bare legs, they were almost ready to melt together.
A knock at the door startled them both. She rose reluctantly. "Who is it?" Kieran called.
"Sorry to disturb you. It's Lew."
Samantha smoothed down her skirt. The awareness that the architect had once studied for the ministry always made her a little self-conscious. Although, now that she reflected on it, she and Kieran were married.
He admitted his friend. "How did you find us out here?”
"It wasn’t hard to figure out, with the court date tomorrow.” He gave Samantha a friendly nod. “Phillips just called. He has to go out of town on a family emergency. His partner will represent us tomorrow and call you as soon as it's over."
Kieran glowered. "His partner's a wimp compared to Joel. I should be there."
"He specifically asked you not to go," cautioned Lew. "He reviewed their strategy with me. Here, I made notes."
Seeing the two men deep in conversation, Samantha slipped away. She'd called the detective earlier, with no luck, and this might be her last chance.
Her body still tingling from the embrace, she hurried up the hill toward a spot that had good cell phone reception. Kieran's attentiveness this week and the instinctive rightness of their lovemaking forced her to face a possibility she'd been fighting tooth and nail.
Maybe she belonged here. Maybe she ought to consider staying, regardless of the risk.
Could she relinquish the adventures that she’d imagined lay in her future? Wouldn’t she miss the thrill of flying alone to a strange city filled with unfamiliar people and customs?
Alone. Strange. Unfamiliar.
Here, she was part of a community. And if she left, Kieran’s intensity and his tenderness would resonate inside her for a very long time.
Hard to decide. Hard to choose.
Unsettled, Samantha pressed the detective's number. He answered with a sharp, "Yes?"
Finally! "Mr. Dunaway?" she said. "It's Samantha Avery.”
"Oh, yes. I've been working on your case," he responded.
"Have you found anything about Beatrice Bartholomew? Our lawyer is due in court tomorrow."
He cleared his throat. “I’ve uncovered a few items that we ought to review. How about dropping by my home office this evening?"
Drop by La Jolla? That was two hours away. "I'm afraid I can't." Although she’d been avoiding using email as a precaution, this was important. "Whatever information you've dug up, Mr. Dunaway, I need it tonight, so—"
She’d lost track of her whereabouts and forgotten how easily her voice could carry. The crunch of branches was all the warning she received be
fore Kieran stood there, glaring. From his dark glower to the fists clenched at his sides, she could tell he'd overheard part of the conversation.
"Hang up," he growled.
“This could help us!”
He reached for the phone. Samantha yanked it away, but in the process, she lost the connection. She stared down at the screen in dismay.
"You went behind my back.” The words ground out from between Kieran’s clenched teeth. "You hired a detective after I specifically told you not to."
Samantha tried to ignore the guilt that squirmed inside her. "I had to. And he's turned up something. I’m not sure what.”
"God knows what damage you've done." Kieran gestured uphill toward his cabin. “Let’s go inside. I’d rather my men didn’t hear this.”
Samantha trudged alongside him. She’d only been trying to help. “I don’t see why it’s such a big deal.”
As soon as they were inside, Kieran slammed the front door behind him. "If Beatrice finds out, she'll accuse us of harassing her. It’ll help prove her contention that I'm a domineering jerk who'd sink to any level to cheat her of her inheritance. Don't you have enough respect for me to trust my judgment?"
"I'm sorry." The apology dropped into a void. "But Kieran, I can't sit here and do nothing. I have to try to stop her."
"This isn’t your fight." He stalked the length of the room, his fury too big for the small space. "Give me a little credit, Samantha. I'm not a moron. If Joel says a detective won't help, then I accept that he knows what he's talking about."
Samantha supposed meddling had been wrong. But she cared about this community, and him. "Did it occur to you I might come up with an angle he hadn’t considered?”
"This isn't a game," Kieran snapped. “This isn't a challenge for your wits, a puzzle to master before you move on to the next one. This is my future, which you’ve chosen not to be a part of.”
"I haven’t…..” Samantha started to say that this could be her future, too, but the words stuck in her throat. She wasn’t ready for such a commitment, even assuming he’d accept it
"Maybe it’s good that you're leaving." She wished he were shouting instead of speaking with deadly calm. "Obviously, we're not compatible."
Samantha had to break through this icy wall. "Kieran, I apologize for going behind your back. I don't always look before I leap. In fact, I hardly ever do."
"That's what I mean." He folded his arms. "I play by the rules and take the consequences. When I lose, I don't run away and I don't try for a quick fix."
"We have different styles," she agreed. "That doesn't mean—"
"Let's just muddle through this weekend, shall we?" Kieran's tone carried a heavy note of finality. “Then we’ll stick to our plan and annul the marriage.”
Samantha was tempted to argue that that would be an even bigger mistake. But he was right. She’d never be steady like Beth. She couldn’t promise never again to go off half-cocked.
Too late, she faced the truth: she loved Kieran more than she could possibly love anyone else. But if they stayed together, they’d make each other miserable. "I’ll do my best to behave through the holiday," she said unhappily.
He gave a tight nod. "I think I'll go catch a movie at the rec hall," he said, and went out.
*
When he'd overheard Samantha talking to the detective, Kieran's temper had ignited in a white flash. In its incandescent light, he'd seen her actions as pure betrayal.
Yet he could hardly blame her for acting in character. He could only blame himself for wishing she were different.
By the next morning, he’d accepted that Samantha simply wasn’t the type to be his partner. Although she’d aroused a delicious urge to pick flowers and sing love songs, the magic wasn’t meant to last. In the long run, a married couple had to function as teammates.
After lunch Friday, Kieran sat at his computer, determined to forge ahead until and unless he received a stop order. Already he was fielding inquiries from organizations seeking convention facilities. If he secured enough bookings, that should help land the loan necessary for the final phase of the project.
Or were all his hopes and plans about to crash around his head?
Right now, his fate was being decided in a San Diego courtroom. Even if his presence there might hurt their case, he should have sent Lew or Pete as an observer. Now it was too late.
If only he'd known sooner that Joel wouldn't be representing them in person. If only he hadn't been too upset last night by his confrontation with Samantha to think straight.
Kieran glanced at his watch. Nearly three o'clock. Didn't Joel's partner realize the importance of this decision? Why hadn't he called or texted or emailed?
Perhaps the case had been postponed, or the judge had taken the matter under submission. After all, it was the day before a holiday weekend. But the attorney ought to keep him advised.
The lawyer’s name was Laird Baird. Kieran had laughed the first time he heard it. He wasn't laughing now. An injunction blocking further work on the resort didn't necessarily mean Beatrice would win her suit. But if they couldn't complete the hotel by fall, there would be no income to pay off their loans and no bookings to secure new ones.
Kieran prided himself on playing by the rules, yet now the rules were strangling him. Maybe Samantha had the right idea. If you never committed yourself, you limited your losses. But you never built anything worthwhile, either.
He forced his attention onto the computer, where he had to review two competing interior design proposals. The first designer, Joshua Jerome, had gone with a Wild West theme: brash sunset colors, murals of cowboys and prospectors, and details that included hitching post-style railings. It was a bit rustic for Kieran's taste.
He clicked to the second set of designs, submitted by an acquaintance named Eva Humphrey. Her concept, in keeping with the resort’s name, was of something hidden and secluded. She used curved lines and subtle blends of colors that, to Kieran, captured the spirit of the project. Hidden Hot Springs had found its designer…if that judge in San Diego didn't force them out of business.
Stretching his legs, he pushed back from the desk. His muscles were stiff in unfamiliar places and his eyes burned. He'd hardly slept last night.
Kieran glanced at his watch. The time clicked past four.
He tried Laird’s cell, and once again voice mail picked up. Irritated, he left a message, then pressed the office number. “We’ve left for the Fourth of July weekend,” the machine said. “Please call back next week.”
Damn that idiot Baird! Surely he or Joel would call soon. Surely they’d remember that Kieran was waiting.
Meanwhile, the men were holding a mixer tonight, with a festive dinner beforehand. There was no point sitting around here. Both Laird and Joel had his cell number.
Kieran logged off the computer and went to enjoy the evening, if that were possible.
Chapter Fifteen
Samantha awoke with a start, disoriented to see dim light filtering through the blinds. Was it morning already? Which morning? Hadn't she just lain down for an afternoon nap?
The clock clicked to 7:03, and the little red dot indicated that it was evening. She'd slept for three hours. No wonder, considering all the tossing and turning she'd done last night.
The day had proved frustrating as well. She’d had no word from Kieran about Beatrice's injunction, although she was burning to hear. Beth and Lew had taken the day off to go hiking, and the only remaining Fourth of July preparations were being handled by the kitchen staff. Samantha had thrown herself into baking cheesecakes, then yielded to her weariness with a long nap.
Now she stumbled to the bathroom, brain in a fog. She wished she'd slept all the way until tomorrow morning, when Alice and Mary Anne should arrive.
Keeping busy helped her ignore the dark abyss between her and Kieran. Although she hadn't left yet, she already missed him so much her ribs ached. If not her ribs, then something else in that area. Her heart, maybe.
/> After splashing cold water on her face, Samantha began to feel hungry. Aware that she'd missed dinner, she slogged into the kitchen. The refrigerator shelves were packed with cheesecakes, most of which she'd baked as backups for tomorrow's contest, in case they lacked sufficient entries. She’d made chocolate and vanilla and raspberry and, in a burst of inspiration, a chocolate-raspberry-vanilla blend that was to be her official entry. They were off-limits tonight. though.
Samantha took canned chicken chili and fruit salad from the cupboard, and ate them unheated. It felt odd to have supper out of a can, although she used to do it frequently. In the last few weeks, she’d become accustomed to companionship at a meal. She’d also grown accustomed to eating a meal at a meal.
What would she do on the cruise ship, assuming she got the job? Probably snarf down leftovers between stints of shepherding passengers around. Cruise ships were famous for lavish cuisine--and for overworking the staff.
She rinsed the cans and plopped them into the recycle container. Why had she imagined working on a cruise ship would be fun? Samantha had taken a cruise once and the staff members had labored from morning till night.
Hidden Hot Springs had spoiled her. Kieran had spoiled her. Well, she’d just get unspoiled.
Well, no use sitting around the cabin this evening. She'd helped the men plan a mixer, and she wanted to see how many women showed up and how many matches were made.
Half an hour and her entire wardrobe later, Samantha decided on a short, frothy pink dress with a plunging neckline, worn with a black velvet choker and sparkly earrings. She slipped on the highest heels she owned and examined herself in the mirror on the bathroom door.
She looked sexy, sophisticated and totally out of place in this environment. Perfect. Eat your heart out, Kieran.
Proud of her transformation, Samantha strode onto the porch and caught her heel between two planks. Only an undignified hop in the air, accompanied by a loud squawk and flailing arms, saved both her balance and the shoe.
No way was she walking half a mile without a man to catch her when she stumbled. She fetched her keys, teetered down to the road and drove the rest of the way.
Run, Run, Runaway Bride Page 16
