by Judy Duarte
Brad had a bundle. Not from the fortune his father had acquired but from his own sweat. He’d earned an MBA and opted out of his father’s plans for him for a few years to work on Wall Street. He’d done well and invested most of it, not in the dot-com of the moment but in solid, stable companies he’d researched. At the height of the boom, he’d sold most of it, bought real estate, sold that, reinvested in conservative investments for the future and constantly turned over the rest for profit. At thirty-five, he had more money than he’d ever need.
Money certainly hadn’t been the reason he’d joined his father in his firm. Taking over Vaughn Associates someday hadn’t been one of his aspirations. However, when his mother had phoned him and gently suggested his dad wouldn’t be around forever, Brad had wondered if he and his father could set aside the adversarial relationship they’d always had and forge real bonds they could build on. But Brad had been vice president of his dad’s firm for two years now, and the bonds were as thready as they’d always been. He didn’t know any more now what made Phillip Vaughn tick than he had when he was twelve and his parents had divorced.
“I’ve already contacted Suzette’s lawyer and informed him I’ll be giving a sample for a DNA test today. This will be settled within a month,” Brad said decisively.
“The reputation of this firm could suffer a hell of a lot in a month if articles like this keep appearing.”
“That’s what Suzette and her lawyer are counting on.”
“A settlement could shut it all down today,” Phillip insisted.
But Brad wasn’t about to settle, not when his reputation was at stake. “No. I want to clear my name. I won’t be thought of as an irresponsible playboy who doesn’t care if he gets a woman pregnant.”
“That’s not what you are?” his father asked with a bit of an amused smile.
His dad often frustrated him. Now his question rankled in a deep place that unsettled Brad. “I have never been irresponsible.”
Silence reverberated in the office until his father broke it. “Maybe you should think about settling down,” he suggested, throwing the newspaper onto Brad’s mahogany desk.
“You know how I feel about that.” Brad couldn’t keep the acerbic edge from his voice.
When his father had kicked his mother out of their home after her affair, Brad had lived with her during the week and with his father on weekends. He wouldn’t take the chance of doing that to any kid. Besides that, he simply didn’t trust women. That might have started with his mother’s infidelity, but in college he’d given the fairer sex a chance. That had been a mistake. His father had bought off the girl that he didn’t deem appropriate for Brad, and Brad’s eyes had been opened to exactly how little love mattered compared to the allure of money.
“With your paternity up in the air, what are you going to do about Thunder Canyon?” his father asked.
“Thunder Canyon can’t wait,” Brad answered, considering the client’s case he was personally overseeing.
Thunder Canyon, Montana, was a small town near Bozeman. Since Vaughn Associates was acclaimed for its security work and all-around private investigation skill, the company’s reputation was known across the country. Caleb Douglas, one of the most renowned citizens of Thunder Canyon, had hired Vaughn Associates to uncover the true ownership of a gold mine there.
“I got the history from Caleb Douglas yesterday,” Brad went on. “Since the late eighteen hundreds, the Douglas family has claimed the property in Thunder Canyon that includes the Queen of Hearts gold mine. Now they can’t find the deed. Caleb has always assumed he knew the truth and the land was his. I’m hoping I can wrap up the investigation in a few days.”
A small voice on his shoulder, however, reminded him a missing deed could mean trouble.
“I’ll need to find the deed or some proof of ownership. I’m going to ask Emily to go along.”
“Your secretary? Is she necessary?”
“Caleb said he wanted this done quickly no matter how much it cost. If Emily’s along, I can count on her to write up the daily reports and do preliminary interviews.”
With a frown, his father checked his watch. “I have an appointment across town. I’d better get going.” He cast a disdainful glance at the newspaper once more. “Maybe if you’re out of town for a few days, the hubbub over that…situation…will settle down. I don’t want to have to field calls about your personal life while you’re away.”
As if his father really knew anything about his personal life. “If you receive any calls, give the caller my cell number,” Brad said curtly.
Phillip gave him a long look. “I’ll do just that.” Then he left Brad’s office.
Crossing to the doorway, Brad’s gaze didn’t follow his father as he left the office suite. Rather, his eyes rested on Emily Stanton. His secretary sat at her computer, headset on, transcribing yesterday’s reports.
Brad would never depend on a woman in his personal life. He knew the foolishness, the futility in that. But in his professional life, Emily was as dependable as a woman got. She was organized, punctual, thorough and sometimes uncannily able to read his mind. With her straight, dark brown hair—shoulder length and blunt—her bangs; her sedate, always-polite attitude, she didn’t turn heads and she didn’t flirt. She was just available when he needed her, straightforward in her manner and an asset he didn’t want to contemplate doing without. She’d been with the Vaughn secretarial pool for two years. Then, six months ago, when his secretary had taken maternity leave, Emily had applied for the promotion. He knew from her personnel records she was twenty-seven, but he didn’t know much else. They’d never had a personal discussion.
Engrossed in her work, Emily wasn’t even aware of him stepping out of his office. Since she was wearing her headset, he clasped her shoulder, hoping not to startle her. “Emily?”
She gasped and came up out of her chair so fast her headset flew from her ears and landed on the computer keyboard. They were standing toe to toe and almost nose to nose, except her nose came to the knot of his tie. He suddenly realized how petite and fragile she seemed as he inhaled a flowery scent—lilacs, maybe? Yes, Emily Stanton smelled like lilacs. Had he ever been this close to her before?
Trying to back up, she bumped into the desk. “Mr. Vaughn! Did you call me? I didn’t hear you come out of your office.”
“No, I didn’t call you.” He motioned to the headset. “I didn’t think you’d hear me.”
She was wearing a two-piece black suit today, with a boxy jacket and a straight skirt. For the first time since he’d hired her, he noticed her eyes were the color of emeralds.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, just gazed at each other.
Then, feeling a bit unsettled and not knowing exactly why, Brad asked, “Can you come into my office? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
Emily’s cheeks were flushed and she didn’t appear to be her calm, cool self as she reached for the legal pad on her desk and a pen in the holder. “Sure. I’ll be right in.”
Brad didn’t wait but returned to his office and lowered himself into the tall, burgundy leather chair behind his desk.
Hurrying in after him, Emily took a seat in one of the two chairs facing him. She was composed again, her legal pad and pen ready to take notes or directions. Emily loved lists, he knew. She stuck them on her computer, on her keyboard, on her desk. He supposed that’s how she stayed organized.
“I have a special assignment for you. Something out of the ordinary.”
“A special assignment?” she repeated, looking perplexed.
“Remember those notes you typed on Caleb Douglas?”
“The man who thinks he owns a gold mine in Montana?”
“He’s the one. By the way, thanks for staying late last night and deciphering my scribblings from the phone call with him.”
There were still spots of color on her cheeks. “No problem. I knew you wanted to start working on his case today.”
“There’s
some urgency in finding out whether he truly owns this mine or not. Supposedly the gold mine was abandoned in the late eighteen hundreds. But a couple of months ago, when a young boy fell down an erosion hole into a mine canal, gold nuggets were found. Caleb Douglas, of course, wants to mine any gold if it’s there. The problem is, he and his family can’t find the deed.”
“And you’re supposed to find it?”
“I’m supposed to find out who truly owns the Queen of Hearts mine. I doubt if I’ll find the deed itself, but hopefully I can find some type of record that will prove Caleb Douglas is the rightful heir or the owner.”
“What do you want me to do?”
As Brad’s attention focused on Emily again and the expectant look on her face, he realized how cute she actually was. Was he looking at her differently because he’d be traveling with her? Because he was thinking about time they’d be spending together outside of the office? Because he was thinking about how she’d look in blue jeans?
Reminding himself that Emily wasn’t the type of woman he dated for a multitude of reasons, he said evenly, “I’d like you to fly to Montana with me tomorrow. As I said, I need to tie up this case quickly. If you’re along, the work might go faster. We might have to page through a lot of old records, and I may need to follow leads while you make calls.”
Her gaze dropped to his desk and the newspaper lying there. Then she asked, “It would just be you and me? Alone?”
Brad had the reputation for being one of the most eligible bachelors in Chicago. He had been dubbed that when a reporter had written an article about him after he’d returned to his hometown. At the time it hadn’t bothered him, but now he didn’t like that reputation any more than he liked the column that had appeared about him and Suzette in this morning’s paper.
Picking up the newspaper, he folded it in half and tossed it into the trash can beside his desk. “The allegations are false.”
To her credit, Emily didn’t play dumb. “It’s none of my business,” she said softly.
“You’re my secretary. It’s your business because I don’t want unfounded gossip to keep you from taking this trip.”
“I’m surprised you’re going away now,” she admitted honestly.
“I’m not going to let an unsubstantiated accusation interfere with my work or with my life.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Vaughn…”
“It’s only for a few days, Emily. There will be plenty of other people around. We’ll be busy with interviews and public records.”
“Where would we stay?”
“There’s an inn and a motel. From what I understand, it’s pretty much a little, one-horse town, but it’s readying itself for a new ski resort.”
Seeing indecision still on her face, he offered the one incentive he knew she’d understand and probably not resist. “If you take this trip to Thunder Canyon with me, I’ll toss in a bonus.” He named a sum that made her eyes widen.
“You’re willing to pay that much for my help?”
“I’m willing to pay that for good help. I need someone dependable, and you’re dependable. So what do you say?”
After a few moments of hesitation, she asked, “When should I be ready to leave?”
“Sorry, Mr. Vaughn, I simply have no rooms to rent you,” said the motel manager with a Texas drawl that seemed out of place in Montana.
Emily couldn’t believe what she and Brad were hearing. He had told her yesterday there was no need to make advance reservations since the tourist season wasn’t yet in full swing. They’d just arrived at dinnertime, and they were worn out from their flight—from Chicago to Denver, then Denver to Bozeman. The foreman of Caleb Douglas’s ranch had picked them up at the airport and driven them to Thunder Canyon. When he’d asked where they wanted to go, Brad had directed him to the Big Sky Motel at the edge of town.
Standing to one side, the foreman of the Lazy D—a man in his fifties with a stubble of gray beard and a huge black Stetson—tipped his hat up on his forehead. “It’s because of the gold rush. We got more people coming in than this town knows what to do with.”
“Mr. Vaughn, maybe we should try to call Caleb Douglas,” Emily suggested.
“It’s Brad, Emily. I told you that on the plane. And Caleb Douglas is going to be meeting us here anytime now.” Turning back to the hotel clerk, he demanded, “Let me talk to the manager.”
Emily could tell Brad was getting impatient. He was the type of man who was used to clearing his way no matter what the obstacles in his path.
The man behind the desk looked a bit frazzled, too. Emily thought he looked a little like Al Pacino. He wore a name tag that said Jess Anderson.
Now the motel manager tugged on his bolo tie and blew out a breath. “I’m the manager and the owner. I don’t have any rooms to give you.”
Taking his wallet from his jeans, Brad removed a bill. Emily’s breath caught when she saw that it was a hundred dollars. Her employer laid it on the counter. “Are you sure?”
Mr. Anderson seemed to draw himself up a little straighter, not that he was any where near Brad Vaughn’s six-foot-three height. Emily sensed a tirade coming on.
With her best friendly smile and her calmest voice, she stepped up a little closer to Brad and then was sorry she did. Even at the end of the day, she could smell a trace scent of cologne. His short, black, curly hair was a bit mussed, and beard stubble darkened his jaw. She should know better than to get too close to him. She avoided men like Brad when they crossed her path, and she wasn’t about to be stranded in a strange town with him with no place to sleep for the night.
Emily fingered the strap of the camera bag that was hanging around her neck. “Mr. Anderson, I can see you’re busy, but we’ve come a long way. Could you recommend someplace else we could try? A bed-and-breakfast maybe?”
“No bed-and-breakfasts around here. There’s a dude ranch on the edge of town. I sent some folks over there yesterday, but now they’re full up, too. You should have called first.”
“I never expected this place to be overflowing with tourists,” Brad told the motel owner.
Mr. Anderson shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. All this because a couple of people found a few little nuggets of gold.” He glanced at Emily again. “Let me make a few calls, miss.” Pushing Brad’s hundred-dollar bill back at him, he said haughtily, “No need for that.”
Putting the bill back where it belonged, Brad looked puzzled, as if he didn’t understand what the hotel owner had just done.
When Emily had applied for the job with Brad Vaughn, she’d put her attraction to him aside, keeping her eye on the promotion. There had been a buzz about his return to Chicago. Everyone knew Phillip Vaughn was grooming him to take over someday, but Brad wasn’t the kind of man to be groomed. She’d passed him in the halls, glimpsed him picking up work at the secretarial pool. Her heart had thudded riotously every time she had. He was the kind of man women noticed.
But she’d had her fill of that kind of man. As the old adage went, Once burned, twice shy. She’d emerged from her first and only serious relationship with more than a broken heart. She’d been devastated. Not because she’d found herself pregnant and the man had walked away but because a few weeks later she’d had a miscarriage. She didn’t want handsome, wealthy, irresponsible men anywhere near her radar screen. She had a sister to finish putting through college and she had her own goals now. Nothing was going to interfere with them.
Not even her elemental reaction to her sexy boss.
“What seems to be the problem?” a booming voice asked over Emily’s shoulder.
She turned and found a man in his sixties with silver hair, pale green eyes and a ruddy face that looked as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. His white Stetson sat high on his forehead and his turquoise-and-silver belt buckle caught the glimmer of the overhead lights as he unbuttoned his suede jacket.
Emily wished she’d brought along her suede jacket. She’d never realized May in Montana would not
be the same as May in Chicago. It still felt like winter here.
The foreman pointed to Brad. “This here’s your private investigator.”
Caleb Douglas extended his hand to Brad. “It’s good to meet you, son.”
“It’s good to meet you, too, Mr. Douglas.” Then, to Emily’s surprise, Brad nodded to her. “This is Emily Stanton, my assistant.”
Caleb reached for her hand and pumped it, too. “How do you do, Miss Stanton.”
“I’m fine, thank you. Anxious to get to work. But we do have a problem. There aren’t any rooms. Mr. Anderson is making a few calls—”
Jess Anderson returned to the front desk to face Brad once more. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vaughn, there’s just nothing in this town to rent. You might have to drive back to Bozeman.”
“No sense in that,” Caleb decided. “Under any other circumstances, I’d invite you to stay with me at the ranch, but my wife’s family is visiting from back east. They haven’t visited for ten years and all of a sudden they came roaring in like a herd of cattle gone crazy. All because of the gold rush. Anyway, like I said, you can’t stay at the ranch right now, but I bought a cabin last month to get away from all this hullabaloo. It’s about forty minutes out of town, up in the mountains. I’ve only been there a few times and I haven’t had time to get it renovated yet. But the essentials are there. My wife’s family should be leaving in a few days, and then you’ll be welcome to stay with me. In the meantime, maybe Mr. Anderson will have a vacancy. What do you think?”
To her dismay, Emily felt as if she were riding a train to an unwanted destination. It was going too fast for her to jump off. One minute she’d been sitting at her desk, typing up Brad’s notes, and the next she was facing a night in a cozy cabin with Brad. Alone.
No way.
“I don’t know if that would be a good idea,” she began, trying to be calm, reasonable and professional.
To Caleb, Brad said, “Will you excuse us for a minute?” Clasping Emily’s elbow, he pulled her aside.
After Brad had tugged her a good five feet away, he said in a low voice, “This offer’s the best one we’ve got.”
