Much later.
Finn and Kate walked over to help stow the gear in the back of Kate’s pickup.
“Let me know what else you need, okay?” Finn said, clapping a hand on Mac’s shoulder. “Call it in and I’ll get someone to leave it in your mailbox there,” he said, nodding toward the barn. “Looks like I’ll be heading out in the next day or two.”
“Maybe it’s time to get some extra help in the front office.”
“I know, I know. We keep saying that, but it’s not like we can just put anyone—” Finn glanced at Kate, who wasn’t pretending not to listen, and cut himself off with a quick smile. “Always shoptalk with us, huh? We really need to get a life.”
Finn gave a pointed glance toward Kate, then back to Mac. Mac ignored it. Or pretended to. “What’s not to love about the one we have?”
“True, true. Okay, I gotta roll. Keep Winnimocca safe,” he instructed Mac. “And keep him out of trouble, will ya?” he said to Kate. “Tall order, I know, but somehow I think if anyone can pull it off, you can.”
Kate just laughed.
“Go enjoy your new toy,” Mac told him, shooing him off. “Tell Rafe I said congratulations and sorry I couldn’t be there to help with the roundup. I’d have enjoyed having another…conversation with Mr. DiMateo.”
“Oh, I think they talked it all out,” Finn said with a gleam in his eye. “At length.”
Mac smiled then. “Good to hear. Stay safe and keep that thing in one piece,” he added, nodding to the helicopter. “Gotta protect our…assets.”
“Your concern for my well-being is touching,” he said dryly. “You do the same.”
“Always.”
Both Mac and Kate bent low and backed up as Finn started the powerful blades spinning. Less than a minute later, he was slowly hovering upward, then swiftly dipped to the right and took off into the encroaching night like a sleek, black bat out of hell.
“Must be nice,” Kate remarked calmly.
“Hey, you could have had a raft of them if you’d kept Louisa’s money.”
She smiled sweetly at him. “I’d rather have a run-down camp and yards of mosquito netting, thanks.”
Mac thought about the reports in his jacket, and the dimming smile on her face earlier. “Did Finn talk to you about what he dug up?”
Surprisingly, she shook her head. “I asked, but he said it was better for the two of us to go over everything, that he gave it all to you.”
“He did.”
“Have you read it?”
“Skimmed. What were you two talking about, then?” He realized as soon as the question was out how it sounded, but he didn’t care enough to correct the impression. Mostly because it was pretty much right on target. What was it about her, anyway?
Her mouth curved in a hint of a smile, but she didn’t rib him. “About how he’s been, about Rafe. How the three of you got started in the saving-the-world business.”
“And?” He doubted she’d been frowning earlier because of anything Finn had to say about Trinity. Not only because their business was going quite well, but Finn could charm the wings off a fly without even trying.
She tilted her head slightly, as if to question what he meant, but answered him instead of playing dumb. He really liked that about her. “He asked after Louisa, and about the camp. Told me to listen to my instincts.” Her expression tightened a bit, as if she were internally bracing herself. “It’s Shelby, isn’t it? I mean, that’s what my gut is telling me. He’s somehow behind or involved in…whatever the hell is going on. Do you know what’s going on? Exactly, I mean.”
“He dug up some interesting info, but it’s still at the connect-the-dots stage, and we need more dots to get the whole pattern nailed down. But more information is power, so we’re heading in the right direction.” He motioned for her to get in the truck.
She started to, then stopped. “Wait.”
“What?”
She looked back to the barn. “What was all the measuring of the interior of the barn before? I thought you were having some kind of massive shipment of stuff or something.” She motioned to the contents in the back of her truck. “Hardly worth barn storage.”
“No. But you never know when you might need to hide a helicopter.”
“Oh, well—oh.” She paused. “Do we…need to hide a helicopter? Yet?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.” He slapped the top of the truck. “Come on, get in. It’s getting late, and we have a lot to talk about. I’ll drive.”
Not only didn’t she argue, but she remained uncharacteristically silent until they’d driven back through Ralston and were well into the mountains on their way back to the camp. He could have launched into the information Finn had brought, but, to be honest, he was in no hurry to put that look of fear and worry on her face again.
Not that she looked particularly happy or relaxed at the moment. His attention kept sliding over to her as he switched on his high beams and began the climb up yet another mountain. Though only dimly lit by the dashboard lighting, he could still see how she was twisting her fingers, yet otherwise sitting perfectly still. Too still, like someone deeply lost in their thoughts.
He wondered what she was thinking about. Shelby, most likely. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to also wondering if he was plaguing her thoughts like she was his. Thoughts that had nothing to do with Winnimocca and everything to do with her little comment about rules made in haste. His mind spun back to that moment at the barn, just before Finn flew in, when she’d made that comment about liking what she was learning about him. On someone else it might have been flirty and provocative, but she’d said it rather straight forwardly, more as a measure of respect.
Which had done nothing to explain why his entire body had begun to tighten when she’d taken that single step forward. Probably it had meant nothing, and she’d just been about to pace back and forth.
And yet he couldn’t get his mind to let it alone. That moment when he’d looked into her eyes and wondered if she was as affected by their forced togetherness as he was. And he wasn’t sure he’d be so chivalrous and self-controlled the next time. If there was a next time. He pictured Finn’s smiling face as he’d chatted Kate up, and her responding giggle. And knew damn well he wanted there to be a next time, and was doubly glad Finn was going to be many miles away when it happened.
“You can tell me,” she said suddenly. “I have to know the truth.”
Still thinking about the two of them, back in her cabin tonight, while he tried to give her the full report and not think about her bed in the next room…he wanted to tell her he didn’t have a clue what the truth was at the moment. Other than he wanted her.
“We’re almost back. Let’s go over all of it then.”
“Shelby’s involved.” She made it a statement, not a question. “Just tell me that much. You didn’t exactly answer me before.”
He didn’t pull any punches with her. “There has been rumored contact between him and Timberline, but nothing we can substantiate yet. Meaning no paper trail to prove it.”
“And?”
He turned the truck into the private drive leading up to the campgrounds. “And, I think we should go scrounge up something to eat, then go over the rest of Finn’s report in detail.”
She surprised him by flashing a brief dry smile. “Because after what I hear, I’m not likely to have an appetite?”
No, he thought, because if I stuff myself with food, maybe it will kill the craving I’m developing for you. “One step at a time.”
She looked as if she were going to debate the issue, or push him for more, but instead, settled more deeply into her seat and shifted her gaze out the window. “You know,” she said, her tone pensive, “I tried to keep myself from caring too much. About whether or not I got to use this property.”
“Why did you?” he asked. “I thought you only wanted it because it might be available at the right price.”
She half shrugged. “It was my only shot,
financially. And, the more I thought about the property itself, the more perfect I knew it would be. Part of our program focuses on working with animals and kids together, horses mostly, as well as water therapy. Winnimocca has the stables, the lake. And I know my family wasn’t the best, or even much of a family, really, but this property is ours and has been for a long time. That might not have meant anything before, but maybe it will now.”
She sat up a little straighter, warming to her topic, despite the fear and concern. “When I came up with the idea for the camp…well, to be fair, it was Marti’s idea way back when, but for her it was a pipe dream. For me, once that seed was planted, I could hardly think of anything else. It was because of Marti that I’d gotten involved in studying alternative therapies for kids with disabilities who didn’t always respond to conventional methods. The property was here, it was in the family, it wasn’t being used…and it was perfect for what we needed.”
“Pretty remote location.”
She smiled. “Camps aren’t supposed to be centered in thriving metropolises.”
“I know, but in the case of your campers’ limitations, wouldn’t it be easier if—”
“If they had easier access? Trust me, they’ve conquered bigger challenges. But the remoteness serves several purposes. Not only does it give the kids the experience of being away from home and the enjoyment of a traditional camplike setting, but they oftentimes need the peace and quiet in order to maintain. Lots of noise, traffic, the intensity of hustle and bustle would overwhelm them. I wanted a place where the stimulation, when it came, was controlled. Constructive rather than destructive.”
“So they all stay alone here? No parents?”
She shook her head. “No, parents often stay in situations like this. Depends on the child, the challenges, the camp’s directives. It’ll be on a case by case basis, but the programs are designed to help both.”
He glanced at her before turning up the final stretch of the drive. There was a vibrancy about her now, as she spoke of her dream, her passion, that he hadn’t seen in her since his arrival. It gave more than color to her cheeks; it lit her from within. And she’d been pretty powerful stuff before.
He drove past the other cabins, turning right at the fork, away from the lane leading down to the service entrance, without even flashing to his own past and the multitude of memories just seeing that posted sign would normally evoke. He was too immersed in the present to do much more than notice it.
“You’re obviously not going to run this program alone. Do you have the staff set up?”
“I’ve got a few solid confirmations. Once actual progress is being made on renovations, I’ll have a little more leverage with a few other teachers I’d like to hire. I have most of it outlined, the people, the programs, the animals we’ll need, the scheduling. It’s something I’ve been working toward for a very long time, and I’ve been fortunate enough to have the help of my former department head at the university as well. I couldn’t have gotten this far without Marti pushing me initially, or my chair’s support at the end run.”
He started to ask her one of the other two dozen questions on the tip of his tongue. Her enthusiasm for the subject was contagious, and he found himself sincerely interested in hearing more about the program, in ways that had nothing to do with the case at hand. Instead, he pulled into the space in front of her cabin and killed the engine. “Sounds like you have it all thought out.” He popped open his door and climbed out, needing to get away from her, just for a moment, to break the spell, regroup. But instead, he stopped, turned. “I guess I should have asked sooner, but did we need to stop in town for dinner fixings?”
She climbed out and shook her hair free of the ponytail that had been threatening to fall apart all evening. It was done artlessly, with no apparent awareness of how damn sexy the action was. “Nah, I can throw together something,” she said, massaging her scalp and groaning a little.
A sentiment he could easily second at the moment. “I don’t mind helping.” With dinner, untangling all that hair of yours…
She grinned. “Good, then you can bring the beer.”
“How did you—” He flashed on Finn, heads bent close, her laughter. “Right. Glad to share.” And he was. In fact, he was quite willing to share a hell of a lot more than his beer with her. He tugged the cooler out of the back of the truck, but left the rest of the equipment there.
“Should we stow that somewhere?”
“I’ll get it later. I’m going to stow it in my cabin anyway. There is some assembly required,” he added with a smile. He noticed her instinctive glance…and it wasn’t in the direction of the unoccupied cabins down the hill. She’d instinctively glanced at her own. His body revved up quite nicely to that unconscious suggestion. He fought to quell the reaction. They had a long night ahead of them. And at some point, he had to get back on task. The case had to come first.
Whether or not either of them were going to come later remained to be seen.
He sighed a little as he hefted the cooler and hiked the steps up to her front porch. And to think he’d once loved this job.
At the moment, he was thinking there might actually be a point to having a life outside of work. Novel concept for a guy like him.
She held the door open for him, and he had to angle himself carefully to keep from brushing up against her, but was trapped as Bagel plastered himself all around his ankles with loving adoration. Cruel, really. Worse was the whiff of her fragrance. And the killer was that it wasn’t some fancy perfume. It was the fresh scent of soap and shampoo. Who’d have thought the wafting scent of citrus could give a guy a raging hard-on?
He was so in trouble here.
“Why don’t you review the report in full while I cook something up?” She smiled as she stepped into the cabin behind him, then squatted down to rub Bagel’s quivering belly. “We can eat while I badger you with a million questions and generally make you crazy.”
You have no idea, he thought. No idea at all.
Chapter 10
Kate had thought he’d dominated her screened-in porch last night—had it been only last night? His presence was so much bigger than life it felt as though he’d been in it far longer than that. But now that he was standing in her small kitchen, she realized she had sorely underestimated just how big a presence he truly was.
“You cook?” he asked.
“Very funny.” She reached into the jar on the little shelf beside the door and tossed Bagel a piece of rawhide.
Donovan walked across the main room of the four-room cabin—the other rooms being her bedroom, her office, and the bathroom—to the open kitchen area and pulled out a chair to the small, two-seat dinette set she’d scrounged at a flea market. “Actually, I wasn’t being a smart-ass,” he said. “I don’t assume a woman can cook just because she’s a woman.”
“You’re so not going to save your behind trying to sound gender enlightened.”
“I am gender enlightened,” he said, sounding all offended, but there was that twinkle in his eye again.
“Be honest, you assumed I couldn’t cook because I grew up with one on staff.”
“That, too, but really—” He ducked easily when she flipped one of the two throw pillows from the couch in his general direction as she passed by. “Careful, you could take an eye out.”
“With a pillow?”
He bent down and snagged it from the floor by his feet. “You never know.”
She opened the refrigerator door and hid her smile. Her entire dream might be falling apart…and here she was, grinning like a fool over a little banter with an attractive man. So what if it had been a while? Okay, a long while. And so what if it was her teenage crush, returned to her life in all his infinite grown-up glory? A little professionalism at the moment would go a long way.
Then there came the scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor, and before she could close the door and move, he was behind her, peering over her shoulder at the meager contents of her
refrigerator.
“So, I’m guessing it’s PB and J and water,” he said, his breath warm on the side of her neck. “Got any chips to go with that?”
His close proximity was making it really difficult to concentrate on what he was saying. Her body was getting the message loud and clear, but it had nothing to do with making dinner. She snatched a bag of ready-made salad from the crisper drawer and a bottle of salad dressing from the rack in the door. “Amateur.”
She straightened and deftly moved to one side and away from him so she could open the freezer. She slid a small bag of flash-frozen chicken breasts out and tossed the bag directly at his chest, which had the added bonus of making him straighten and move back a few steps.
He looked down at the bag now clutched to his chest. “They’re frozen.”
She slipped past him and went to the stove. “They have this new invention; it’s called an oven.”
He scanned the short countertop wedged between the fridge and the stove. “No microwave? Not even a toaster oven? What kind of heiress are you?”
She tucked the salad and dressing into one hand and snatched the chicken from his hand as she moved past him once again to the small chopping-block island that officially divided the space between kitchen proper and dining area. In her mind it did, anyway. “The poor, starving kind who learned one hundred and one ways to cook entire meals in a dormitory microwave and never wants to see another one as long as she lives.” She flashed him a smile and batted her eyelashes. “Or until she has someone else to do the cooking for her. Whichever comes first.”
“Ah ha,” he said, coming to stand next to her. “I knew your inner rich girl was in there somewhere.”
“Very funny.” And couldn’t he stand somewhere else? She tried not to fidget. “I wasn’t talking about the kind that I’d have to put on salary, wiseass. Here.” She stepped back and waved him to take her place. “Since you seem bent on getting in my way, you can toss the salad.” She opened an overhead cupboard and pulled out a serving bowl, two little bowls, and a box of croutons. “Don’t put those on yet. It’ll take a few minutes to heat up the chicken.”
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