The Black Sheep and the Princess

by Donna Kauffman

  “Heat?”

  “Already grilled and flash frozen. Don’t worry, they’ll heat up quickly. Give me time and I’ll make some garlic bread to go with it.”

  He stepped around her to the serving bowl and surprisingly put together the salad with an ease that belied his bachelor-at-large status. “No tomatoes?”

  She shuddered. “Not unless forced under penalty of death.”

  “Does that mean this is a no-spaghetti zone?”

  She slid two thin chicken breasts out and popped them on a tray and into the oven in one smooth move. “Why?” she asked him as she turned to face him, arms folded. “You planning on dining here often?”

  He finished mixing the bowl of salad. “Maybe.”

  Before she could come up with a retort, and she was certainly going to, he slid by her and put the croutons and dressing on the table.

  “Silverware? Dishes?”

  “You can set a table?” she asked with feigned surprise.

  “Very funny. Although I admit I lived off of paper plates for almost a year after we all moved in together.”

  Kate’s hands stopped in midreach for the fridge door. She looked over her shoulder at him. “You three…live together, too?”

  “Not in sin or anything. It’s legal, I swear.”

  Her lips twitched. “The Unholy Trinity, all under one roof. And the world is still standing.”

  “It’s a pretty big roof.” He stacked silverware on top of the dishes, grabbed a few napkins, and moved over to the table. “And I thought I mentioned it, but we’re saving the world.” He sent her a sideways look that was anything but innocent. “One downtrodden heiress at a time.”

  She tried not to be swayed by his devilish charms, really she did. “I’m not downtrodden.” She moved around the table in the opposite direction from him—no need testing her sway ability by putting herself in actual contact range—and pulled out a chopping block. She kept her back to him, all the better to not be caught up in those quicksilver eyes of his, and started buttering a few bread slices and sprinkling them with garlic and parmesan cheese she rescued from her meager spice cupboard. “I’m just a little financially challenged at the moment, that’s all.” She wished that had come out sounding a bit more confident. “I find it rather ironic that, of the two of us, I’m not the one living the high life in some fancy Virginia mansion. And you give me grief.”

  Donovan came to stand beside her, holding the bowl of tossed salad greens. She put the knife down. She knew her limits. Bracing herself, she looked at him. Up close like this, almost as close as they’d been in the cab of her truck when he’d kissed her, it was impossible not to get caught up in his intensity. He didn’t even have to try. How he worked that laconic smile with those laser beam eyes of his, she had no idea. But anybody fooled by his easygoing demeanor was just that, a fool.

  “Tell me something,” he said, holding her gaze with a direct look.

  Anything, she thought. I’m an open book for you. To hell with logic and reasoning. A girl got this lucky only a few times in an entire lifetime. If that.

  “Does Shelby value what you do?”

  She blinked. What the hell did Shelby have to do with Donovan seducing her? “What?”

  “This camp. When you told Louisa—and I assume Shelby knew then, too, what you wanted to do with it—what was his reaction?”

  She took the bowl from his hands, still nonplussed. Although she was feeling steadily more foolish for the ridiculous path her mind had been taking for the past twenty minutes. Who was she kidding? Since she’d found him on her porch yesterday, it was all she could do to not think about how badly she wanted him. “What difference does it make?”

  “I’m trying to piece this whole thing together and fit Shelby into it more concretely. We need proof for that, so I need a trail to follow.”

  “I thought you were going to secure the property from vandals.”

  “I am, but that’s not all of it. We have enough to start, but I need to find the thing that ties it all together.”

  “You mean Shelby and Timberline?”

  “And Ralston. And the vandalism. I’m not saying it’s for certain every element is tied in, but we have to consider it.”

  “Okay, but one thing I can’t figure is, why would Shelby or a big developer resort to such petty tactics as graffiti? Especially when Shelby holds all of the cards at the moment. He has what I want. And I’m willing to give him everything to get it. If he doesn’t want me here, all he has to do is not sign the papers.”

  “Which is precisely what he did yesterday.”

  “I know…but—” She carried the bowl to the table and set it down with a mindless thump. “None of this makes sense. But what do Shelby’s feelings about my camp have to do with anything? He doesn’t care what I do with it, as long as I give him the money. At least, that’s what I thought was the case.”

  “Exactly. Wine?”

  “Huh?”

  He gestured to her meager kitchen. “Happen to have a bottle of wine? I have beer, but it’s not really the thing for chicken salad.”

  Mixing Donovan and alcohol struck her as being even more supremely stupid than she’d already been acting thus far. Which, apparently, was saying something. “There is an open bottle of white in the fridge.” She watched him open the door and bend down to look inside. Her gaze followed the action—and hung somewhere around the back pockets of his jeans. Yeah. She’d have water.

  He pulled two glasses from the rack, and she said nothing as he poured both. No reason to make a scene about it. “So,” she started, sliding the bread onto the top rack in the oven and forking the chicken over. “Why don’t we start at the beginning of Finn’s report and go from there. Maybe it will spark some thread of logic for me.” She could be all business. Really, she could. She pulled her own chair out and sat down before he could move around behind her and took a sip of her wine. “Chicken will take a little bit. Can I look at it while we wait?”

  Mac took a sip of wine. “Wouldn’t make much sense to you, but sure. We can go over it together.”

  “Why don’t you hit the highlights for me.” She didn’t say anything when she noticed him slip a crouton under the table to Bagel. It should have been annoying, and instead, it was a little endearing. Which was ridiculous. So he was a soft touch? What difference did that make?

  “Okay,” he said, spearing a fat baby carrot from the salad bowl and neatly popping the whole thing in his mouth. White teeth flashed, his jaw flexed, as he made short work of it.

  Her mouth watered. And it had nothing to do with her meal. “What does Finn think the connection is between Shelby and the vandalism? I get him possibly talking to the developers, but the rest is a bit of a stretch for me. Did he offer any theories? What’s his opinion?”

  “Our opinion is that Shelby’s quite possibly involved all the way up to his impeccable credit rating. Finn’s research was just following my hunch.”

  “Okay, okay, don’t get your ego in a twist. So Shelby is talking to the developers, but couldn’t that be innocent? You said there was no paper trail, so nothing has been proposed or signed that you can find.”

  “Yet.”

  “What if they were just making an offer to the current owner? And, on record, that would be Shelby at the moment. He could have just said no, end of story. Perfectly legit. Is there anything showing any dealings between Shelby and any Ralston business? Or”—she brightened—“between Ralston and Timberline? Maybe it’s not Shelby at all. Maybe it’s just the town and the developer. What about Stan’s father and the bank? Would the developers need financing of any sort or is that done privately through investors?”

  “I’m not sure on that part yet. Most of it, as you pointed out in the case of Shelby and Timberline having any preliminary discussions, is circumstantial until we get documentation of a deal in the works.”

  “Meaning we really don’t know anything, then.” She huffed out a sigh and leaned back in her chair. “This who
le thing is just supposition.”

  “There are too many players with questionable motives in potential contact here. It’s plausible and probable. That’s enough to pursue it.”

  “Okay, okay.” She took another sip of her wine, then shoved her chair back and rescued the bread slices from the oven. She slid them into a small basket and put them on the table, then went ahead and took the chicken out and poked at it. Thawed and warm, if not exactly hot. It would have to do. “So, let’s focus on Timberline. What do we know, for sure, about their interest in this area, and I don’t just mean Winnimocca. There has to be some proof they’re looking here, feasibility studies, something.” She started slicing up the thin cutlets.

  “We do know they’ve done that much, and you’re right, not just the Winnimocca area, a larger range, but they are focusing their attentions in this area and appear quite serious about it.”

  She turned and slid the chicken pieces into the salad bowl. “Toss,” she instructed him as she dumped the cutting board and knife in the sink. She rinsed her hands and wiped them off with the dishtowel tucked by the stove, then pulled out her chair again, wine back in hand. The hell with water. “Do you have anything showing them looking at any other areas? Just how serious are they about developing here?”

  “Quite. All their attention seems focused here. In the area anyway.”

  “Still, as you say, circumstantial. Contacting Shelby can still fall within normal parameters.”

  “But the graffiti does not.”

  “Maybe the folks in Ralston think I’m keeping Timberline from building here, so they’re trying to scare me off.”

  Donovan tossed the chicken in the salad, then scooped some into his bowl. “Could be.”

  “And Shelby has nothing to do with it.”

  “Too many things happening at the same time make me nervous. As I said, until I have proof otherwise, nothing gets discredited.”

  “So, exactly what kind of system are you setting up here? I mean, I’m assuming we’re targeting the vandalism and trespassing? But that’s just a deterrent. How will that help us prove the rest?”

  “I’m going to wire the place, and hopefully we’ll do more than deter them. We’ll catch them in the act.”

  Her eyes widened. She assumed he meant caught on tape, or whatever. Not actually caught. Then she remembered how easily and naturally he’d drawn a weapon earlier and wasn’t all that sure what he meant. “How much work is involved, setting this up, I mean? They’ve struck all over the property, and it’s a big chunk of land covering some pretty inaccessible areas. Just seems like a lot to go through to catch a simple intruder in the act.”

  “Nothing is simple about this. But don’t worry about the system or the difficulty. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Besides, it will be handy for keeping an eye on the place later on, when the camp is up and running. You can even advertise the fact that it’s electronically monitored, if that helps as a draw. But, for now, I don’t plan on announcing the fact.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “So, you’re not just planning to use the equipment to simply deter the vandal or vandals; you really plan on catching one? Physically, or just digitally? I mean, all we need is proof to get Gilby involved, right, and a digital image of someone trespassing—”

  “Well, actually putting our hands on someone directly involved would provide a handy trail to follow, don’t you think?”

  She sat back in her chair, absorbing this latest round. “Yeah. I guess it would.” She folded her arms across her chest and rubbed absently up and down her biceps. If she let herself, she could get completely freaked out here. So she worked hard to focus on the facts, to try and separate herself from the emotional part. From the fear. She didn’t ask what his plans were to include the local law enforcement…or not. She didn’t think she really needed to hear that answer at the moment. “What kind of resort does Timberline want to build here? What’s the scope of it? It’s too hilly for golf, so what’s the attraction—lake recreation? Will it be more intimate and personal, with guests in cabins like our old camp, or is there some huge, central lodge or hotel planned?”

  “I don’t know. They’ve done a number of different kinds in the past, of varying scope and focus. We’re digging for blueprints. The fact that nothing is on file with the zoning commission or any county official is a bit suspicious, but maybe premature, too. It’s also possible there might be something going on under the table, some kind of deal the developer is working on with the county to perhaps overlook certain codes or zoning regulations.”

  Kate leaned forward, resolutely picking up her fork. “Maybe this is Shelby,” she murmured. “Maybe he’s trying to snare them into some kind of partnership deal and cut me out. I don’t know how he’d pull that off, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “It’s something to consider.”

  Her shoulders slumped a little bit. She really didn’t want to believe that was true, but she knew Shelby too well to automatically dismiss it.

  Mac waved his fork, motioning her to eat. “Let’s have dinner. Then I promise you we’ll go over it all, piece by piece.”

  She put her fork down again and leaned forward. “For you, this is just another one of your charity cases. For me, it’s my whole life. So you’ll have to pardon me if I’m a little too tense to eat.” She shoved back her chair. “I’m going to take Bagel out for a little run.”

  “He runs?”

  She gave Donovan a quelling look. “He’s been cooped up in here all day. He’s restless. He needs to get out, get some fresh air.”

  Mac looked down at Bagel, who was sprawled at his feet. “How can you tell?”

  “I just can.” She slapped her thigh. “Come on, Bagel. Outside?”

  The dog’s eyes were pinned to Mac’s knees, which was as far up as he could see given his position, but exactly the entry spot of any future treats that might be snuck to him.

  “Come on, Bagel. Let’s go.” She walked to the screen door.

  “Kate—”

  She lifted a hand to stall him. “I’ve been cooped up, too, okay? With you. And I’m restless. You finish eating. We’ll talk it out when I get back. I do want to read over Finn’s report myself, draw my own conclusions, see if anything triggers something I might think of that you wouldn’t know about. Business when I get back, okay? Then I’m going to want to know what’s in those gear bags he delivered and what your plan is to install security. Tomorrow, first thing, I’m calling my lawyer and finding out what I need to do to cover my ass in case Shelby is trying to pull a fast one. And if anyone is going to handle Shelby, it’s going to be me, so you might as well get used to including me in every part of this.”

  “Kate—”

  “Don’t ‘Kate’ me. I’m dead serious. And you’ll soon find out that I can be just as stubborn and bull-headed as you are.”

  Donovan held her gaze for what felt like an eternity, and she thought he was going to argue, or give her a hard time for her outburst, or make a joke of it, try to disarm her with his charm. But instead, he nodded and stuck his fork in another chunk of lettuce. “Okay. Just stay close.”

  That’s it? she perversely wanted to demand. You’re just going to let me deliver ultimatums and storm out of here? God, she really did need some air. And the return of some semblance of rational thought would be a welcome change, too. She looked down at her still-sprawled dog, but he had eyes only for Mac’s knees. Traitor.

  She grabbed her jacket off the peg by the door and banged the porch door open and walked out before she could change her mind. She just needed to get away from him for a little while so she could clear her head of all the pheromones that were having a party there and get herself back on track. She crossed the porch and headed down the stairs. The air had grown decidedly cooler, and she shoved her hands in her pockets before striking out on the path that looped around the main cabins.

  She walked this loop often, to stretch her legs and to continue to mentally flesh out the work
schedule, visualize how everything was going to be this time next year. Normally the walk soothed and invigorated her. Her camp was going to happen. It thrilled her to no end, anticipating seeing the realization of her dream happening before her very eyes.

  This evening none of that anticipation and euphoria was there. Her shoulders were tense, her hands in tightly balled fists inside her pockets. Someone was trying to keep her dream from coming true, dammit. Whether it was Shelby, someone in Ralston, or just overzealous developers, she didn’t know. And, to a degree, it didn’t matter. Except, if it was Shelby, it did matter. Even all these years later, knowing they’d never been close and never would be, she still wanted to believe he wouldn’t stoop so low as to screw over family like this. Even estranged family.

  The moon was rising, but clouds had come in over the past hour, and so it was hidden more often than not. She knew the path well, and her eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. The central area to the west of her cabin held the main lodge buildings. Her mother had always wanted to tear them down and put up a single grand lodge, but her stepfather had felt strongly that a camp, even one for the insanely wealthy, was supposed to look like a camp, not a hotel. So the buildings were refurbished, and new stone walls had been laid, additions put on, grander landscaping designed, but camp was still camp. Beyond the central quad was a wider circular path on which the main cabins were located. About fifty yards apart, they were staggered back into the woods, with varying short walkways leading to their front porches. Another long path bisected the circle, which led in one direction down to the lake, and in the other, back to the maintenance and service road.

  The lake also had a number of more secluded cabins nestled along the banks. Oftentimes the girls would be bunked down there and the boys would be quartered closer to the lodge area.

  She didn’t head down that way. The stands of trees on either side of the lake path were denser and blocked most of what little moonlight she had. Plus, the lake cabins were in the worst shape and would be the last thing she renovated. Sometimes just seeing them was too stark a reminder of just how much work was in front of her. She didn’t need that tonight.