by Sheryl Lynn
“Might take about that long to run the prints.” A dopey smile drifted over his face.
“I’d appreciate it, Mike.” She felt supremely confident that the entire matter of Bradley Carter was about to be laid forever to rest.
THE RESULTS of the fingerprint check proved anticlimactic. After dinner with her parents, William had gone with the Colonel to investigate a minor problem with a water storage tank. Megan and Tristan sat in the lounge, sharing a carafe of wine. When Mike Downes arrived with the results, neither Megan nor Tristan expressed the slightest surprise when the deputy told them Tristan’s fingerprints most definitely did not match Bradley Ellis Carter’s. He added that the sheriff’s repeated inquiries had caused the San Quentin prison authorities to double-check Carter’s status, too. The man was exactly where he was supposed to be, and would be for years to come.
No more bad-mouthing Tristan. No more murder attempts. No reason for Tristan to get disgusted and go home early.
Mike gazed longingly at the desk where Kara checked in a new arrival. “Kara can tell me where Janine and your father are.” He tugged his tie, straightened his uniform shirt and smoothed his hair.
Watching Mike saunter away, Tristan said, “Nice enough young fellow.”
“He’s not so young. He’s been a cop for almost ten years.” She lowered her voice. “He’s in love with Kara. Poor guy.”
“She’s not interested?”
“She thinks he’s a goof.” She drained her wineglass. “You want to watch a movie? I’ve got a great video collection, and there’s a VCR in your cabin.”
“Any James Bond movies?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact, Mr. Cayle, I happen to own a complete collection, including the brand-new one with Pierce Brosnan.”
“Seen it. I haven’t seen the other one. With what’s his name, Timothy…”
“Timothy Dalton, License to Kill. It’s pretty dumb, even for James Bond, but it’s got some great chase scenes.” She drained her wine and stood, and for a moment saw double. She’d never had a head for alcohol.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She took a step, then took a quick second step as counterbalance. “Do you want to come up with me to look for the movie?”
He shifted his gaze between her and his wineglass. “I’ll wait for you.”
She consoled herself with knowing they’d have plenty of time to be alone in his cabin—if William didn’t show up.
She got the movie and they walked hand in hand to the Hideaway. Lights were on in cabin A. Since it was too late for housekeeping, she knew guests occupied the cabin. Even though each cabin had been constructed for privacy, she resented having her territory invaded.
Once inside the cabin, Tristan turned on all the lights and hung his hat on a peg. “Would you like a drink?”
Megan wondered what would happen if he were drunk.
He might ravish her—she’d like to be ravished.
“What are you giggling about?”
Unaware she had been, she clapped a hand over her mouth.
“I’ve seen some ornery faces in my time, honey, but the one you’re wearing is pure trouble. What’s going through your head?”
“Nothing.” She sauntered to the bar, swishing her hips. She walked her fingers up his arm, excited by the rockhard bulge of his biceps. The rest of the female population could go ga-ga over tight tushes or great hair if they so desired, but the height of sexiness to her was great arms. Tristan had the best she’d ever seen.
He dropped a hand over hers, stopping her exploration. “You’re looking for trouble.”
“Will I find it?”
“You will if you keep looking at me like that. I’m thinking you’re a tad tipsy.”
“I’m in full control of my faculties, cowboy. And I wouldn’t mind checking out yours. Faculties, that is.”
Laughing, he grasped her by the shoulders and herded her to a chair. She plopped onto the fat cushion and frowned up at him.
He handed her the remote control for the television and VCR. “Find the start of the movie.”
Much to her disappointment, he poured sodas, lots of ice, no booze. As they settled in to watch the movie—seated on separate chairs—she wondered how to go about seducing him. Her mother had told her when the time was right and the man was right, then Megan would know the decision to make love would be right. As it was now. She wanted Tristan Cayle, heart, body and soul.
“What is your opinion about premarital sex?” she asked.
He spewed soda. He coughed and coughed, and she covered her big mouth with her hand. After wiping his eyes with the back of a hand, he looked askance.
“It’s just a question. We talked about everything else, but not about sex. You do have an opinion, don’t you?” His mouth worked as if in conflict between a smile and a frown. “Where I come from, it isn’t a fitting subject for polite conversation.”
“Humph.” She trailed her fingers over his wrist. The hair on his arm was blond and springy. His eyebrows were black, though. The disparity heightened her curiosity about the color of hair on his chest…and other places. “Do you ever think about sex with me?”
He lowered his face, but she caught the edge of his grin.
She turned on the chair and curled her legs beneath her. Resting her chin on her folded arms, she dreamily studied the strong bones of his face. She tuned out the shoot-’emups and explosions on the television, concentrating instead on the angle of his neck and the way his hair feathered across the top of his ear.
“Do you?”
His smiled showed teeth. “Yeah.”
“I never have before. You know, done it.”
His head fell back against the chair, and his chest rose and lowered in a heavy breath.
“Is that a problem? I’m a fast learner, honest. Anything I want to do—” she snapped her fingers “—I can pick up just like that. Well, except for geometry. I did awful in French, too. I speak German pretty well, and some Spanish, but I picked those up on the street when we lived in Europe. I took French in school, but it never felt natural. Je suis, that’s all I remember. It means, I am.”
“Honey, you’re drunk.”
“Does that mean you won’t ravish me?”
“Reckon I ought not.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I want you respecting me in the morning.”
“You said you want more kids. If you don’t ravish me, we can’t have any.” Surely now he’d crumble in the face of her impeccable logic.
From the corner of her eye she caught a movement at the window.
Knocking rapped sharply on the door and she jumped, nearly falling off the chair. Shifting her focus between the door and the window, she tried to figure how somebody looking in the window could also knock on the door.
Tristan answered the door and Janine walked inside. Outraged, Megan struggled off the chair and faced her sister. “You’ve got some nerve. How many wives are you dragging in this time? I’m telling you—”
“Hush, honey.”
Janine looked picture perfect in a red silk blazer over a beige blouse and slacks. She swept her gaze over Tristan, Megan and James Bond, who was parachuting into the middle of a wedding party.
“Mr. Cayle, I apologize for interrupting your evening.”
Her tone of voice made Megan wary. It almost had a humble ring to it—but Janine was never humble. Must be a trick. When Megan started to step around Tristan to reach her sister, he put out an arm to stop her.
“I came to apologize for my behavior. I thought I was justified, but I realize now what I did was inexcusable and rude.” Her throat worked. Her eyes gleamed as if she were about to cry.
Megan blinked rapidly. She must be drunk if she believed for a moment that ice-for-blood Janine was about to cry.
“That…man hurt my family deeply, and when I saw you, I…I can only plead temporary insanity and hope you will forgive me. I am so very sorry, Mr. Cayle.”
He extended his right hand. “Apo
logy accepted, ma’am. No hard feelings.” When she rested her hand against his, he gave it a quick, firm shake. “And please, call me Tristan.”
“Thank you. Tristan.” She darted a sheepish glance at Megan. “I’d like you to accept this vacation on me. This cabin, any meals in the main dining room, whatever you or your son want. I’m picking up the tab.”
“No, no, that’s too—”
“It’s the least I can do, and it’s already done. Your bill is covered. Anything you want. So no arguments.” She turned a strained smile toward Megan. “I owe you an apology, too, Meg. I should have known better than to think you’d act stupid. She isn’t stupid, Mr.—Tristan. Sometimes she’s a better judge of people than I am.” With a trembling hand she twisted a hank of hair around her fingers. “I won’t bother you anymore. Neither will Ms. Falconetti or Ms. Carter.”
“You’re positive that purple twit understands Tristan is not her ex-husband?” Megan asked. “If she bugs him anymore, I’ll rip her hair out.”
“Don’t call her names, Meg. Bradley Carter messed her over, and, well, seeing is believing. Mike Downes talked to her, I’ve talked to her. I have a feeling she’ll be apologizing to you, Tristan.”
“Tell her fine by me if she wants to forget the whole thing. No real harm done.”
“You’re a generous man, and I appreciate it.” She paused and shuffled a step. “There is one small problem.”
“What?” Megan asked suspiciously.
“The photograph Christie Carter spotted was printed in three newspapers in Colorado Springs and Denver. A small segment about you also appeared in the local news broadcasts yesterday evening and today at noon.”
Tristan dropped his face onto his hand. “How many people did this Bradley Carter steal from?”
“In Colorado, at least three women married him, and I think there were ten people altogether who pressed charges against him for fraud. The cops said some victims were too embarrassed to admit he conned them. I’ve left explicit instructions with all the main desk employees that if anyone else comes looking for you, they are to come see me.”
Tristan eyed Megan, his expression pensive. “Maybe that fate of yours is saying I shouldn’t be in Colorado.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Please, don’t leave on my account. I am deeply, truly sorry,” Janine said. “To both of you. I hope you’ll stay and enjoy yourself. You have my word there won’t be any more problems.”
Megan followed Janine outside. “Thanks a lot, Ninny. This is really special.”
“It’s impossible to believe two men could look so much alike, but it happened.”
No more wives to pester him, no more suspicions, and the vacation was free. All it cost him was the plane ticket “It’s big of you to apologize like this. Oh, you’re the best big sister in the whole wide world!” She reached for a hug.
Janine recoiled and threw up an arm. “Have you been drinking?”
“Just a little wine.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I wish people would quit saying that about me. I am not drunk.”
“Good night, Meg.” Janine walked away.
With a hand on the doorknob, Megan watched as the shadows swallowed her sister. As if by magic, another shape stepped out of the shadows, walking toward her. An illusion of light and dark Megan found fascinating.
Until the shape reached the illumination of the fountain lights and she recognized William’s slouching stroll.
So much for being ravished.
“WHY DON’T YOU BUY your own clothes?” Seated crosslegged on the bed, Kara rested her chin on her fist, watching Megan paw through a dresser drawer.
Megan glanced at the window. The day had dawned without a cloud in the sky, and if the weatherman could be trusted, the temperature might reach eighty degrees by noon. A slight headache twinged at her temples. Not enough to qualify as a hangover, but enough to remind her of the wine she’d consumed last night.
She found a sleeveless knit shirt with a vee neckline and embroidered appliques. She held it up to her chest. “The only shirts I have are either plain or marked with the resort logo. I don’t have your fashion sense. How does this look with the shorts?”
“It looks fine.” Kara laughed. “So did you have fun last night all alone with Tristan?”
“Right. First Janine dropped in, then after I got rid of her, William came back. I thought you were going to keep him busy for me?” She pulled off her T-shirt and put on Kara’s shirt. “Tuck it in or leave it out?”
“Tuck it in. And I had to work.”
After tucking in the shirt, Megan opened Kara’s closet. “Where are your tan sandals? The ones with the ankle straps?”
“Why don’t you just move in and take all my clothes? Sheesh.” Kara pointed. “Bottom shelf, on the right by the door. Does Tristan still think you’re too young for him?”
Her face warmed. “I came on to him. I asked him to ravish me.” She found the sandals and slipped them on her feet. Mistake, her practical mind warned. The sandals had an inch-high heel, thin soles and skinny straps. She was taking Tristan and William to Cripple Creek, which meant a lot of walking—but the sandals were cute and sexy. She left them on. “Hair up or down?”
“Down. Ravish? Does anybody use that word?”
“I did. Several times. But he didn’t, so I’m still pure as the driven snow.”
Kara lifted her eyebrows. “Even twelve-year-olds can have sex, Meg. It doesn’t prove anything.”
Megan glanced over her shoulder. “You sound like Janine.”
Kara winced. “Ouch!”
Megan laughed, then flung out her arms and twirled in a slow circle. “I’m in love! Hopelessly, madly, truly, deeply, forever and ever in love. Will you miss me when I’m married and gone?”
“Not if it means keeping you out of my closet.” Grinning, she rested her chin on her fist.
“Every word he says sings to me. We’re in synch, like two halves of the same whole, and we finally found each other. When he kisses me, I get all wobbly—”
“Wobbly?” Kara laughed.
“I swear! My skin tingles and my heart pounds.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Kissing him feels better than taking first in the four hundred meter.”
“Wobbly,” Kara mused. “A guy never made me feel wobbly, and I’ve kissed plenty. The best I’ve done is mooshy.”
“So what do I do? How do I know if he loves me?”
“Ask Mom.” Kara curled her lips in an innocent smile.
“You are no help.” She turned to the mirror over the dresser and critically eyed her makeup. Catching Kara’s amused face in the reflection, Megan wrinkled her nose. “And by the way, sister dear, why did you stick guests in the Hideaway? I saw lights on last night.” She picked up a jar of strawberry-flavored lip balm. Tristan liked strawberries.
“Not them, just a woman. She wanted peace and quiet. I couldn’t tell her no just because you want some snuggle time with your honey.” She shuddered delicately. “She’s a weirdo. She called the resort an institution. Gave me the creeps.”
Megan tried some of the balm. It went on clear with a faintly rosy cast and smelled heavenly. If Tristan resisted these lips, then he was nuts.
“She says, I want a room in your institution, and I go, excuse me, an institution room? She didn’t have a reservation or anything, so I guess she got all panicky because she misunderstood me and thought we didn’t have any rooms at all.”
“Sounds like fun. I’m borrowing your lip balm.” She dropped the small jar in her shorts pocket and made a kissy face at her reflection.
“Ooh, and then you know what she did?”
“Who?”
“The weird woman. She asked Pete if there are any teenage boys around.”
“Pete’s a teenager. Did she make a pass at him?”
“That’s what I thought, but he’s such a jerk, who can tell if he’s telling the truth. I figure it’s ‘cause she do
esn’t want anybody playing a boom box, but it’s a strange thing to say considering she registered under what has to be a phony name. Jane Smith, can you believe it? And she paid cash. Don’t you think it’s strange?”
Megan laughed at Kara’s wild imagination.
“She better not let the Colonel catch her doing anything gross. He’ll toss her out on her ear.” Kara checked her wristwatch, sighed and hopped off the bed. From the bedside table she picked up a name tag to affix to her white blouse. “So have fun today while I’m slaving over a hot desk. Wish I could go with you to Cripple Creek. Drop a couple of nickels in the slot machines for me.”
“Do I HAVE TO GO?” William asked with enough of a whine in his voice to set Megan’s teeth on edge. He scuffled his athletic shoes in the parking lot, raising dust.
“You’ll love Cripple Creek. There’s a train and a mining museum and even an old brothel we can tour.”
The boy kicked a stone. “Tourist junk.”
Megan’s temples pulsed. Tooling through the mountains with a smart-aleck kid held about as much appeal as doing income taxes.
“You’re the one who wants to travel and see the world,” Tristan said. He stole warm glances at Megan, and she knew the outfit she’d borrowed from her sister was a success.
“I can visit with the Colonel, Dad. I won’t bother him none.”
“Afraid not,” Megan said, truly sorry. “He’s meeting with his accountant this morning. We’ll be back before he finishes.”
“I saw some lakes on the map I looked at this morning.” Tristan nodded eagerly. “Lake George? Is that far out of the way?”
Megan knew in order to make their relationship work, she’d have to make friends with William. “Lake George won’t do much for you, but Eleven Mile Reservoir is interesting. And it’s a great drive. The views are to die for. We’ll go the back way into Cripple Creek instead of the highway, then make the loop.”
“Can we go fishing? I’ll go if we can go fishing.”
“Maybe tomorrow or the next day—”
“No fishing. And you are going.” Tristan glared at his son. “Megan’s kind enough to take us on a tour, so no more lip from you.”
