As she ate, she studied her companions surreptitiously. Everyone in the room seemed at ease with the upscale setting. No one pretending to be something they were not. But everyone had secrets of one sort or another, no matter their station in life.
She was drinking coffee with her sorbet when Liam strode into the room. He worked the crowd effortlessly, stopping to speak to one table and then another. His confidence and charm drew smiles from patrons who were clearly pleased to receive his attention. Today he wore a navy sport coat over khaki trousers with another crisp white shirt. His tie was a tasteful paisley pattern of blues and greens.
Despite his conservative clothing, his physique was impressive. Broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips, and long legs. If she had to guess, she’d say he was about six-two to her five foot nine.
Zoe smiled at him wryly when he finally made it to where she sat, her pulse skittering in a disconcerting fashion. “You should have been a politician. I can see you kissing babies and shaking hands all over the state.”
Without asking, he pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. His quick grin took years off his age. “I hate lying and sucking up to fat cats. So I don’t think so. I’m happy right where I am.”
“Are you really?”
The grin disappeared, replaced by what she was coming to recognize as his familiar brooding intensity. “What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “Don’t you ever have the urge to drive out of town and not look back? Hit the road for places unknown?”
“Is that how you live your life?”
The sharp retort with its hint of disapproval put her back up. “There’s a lot to be said for travel. It broadens the mind.”
“I’ve noticed you’re good at dodging questions you don’t like. Maybe you should have been a politician.”
She stared at him, nonplussed. Not many people had the sharp wit and the perspicacity to silence her. “Are we having our first fight?”
He shook his head, clearly amused by her question. “I’m in too good a mood today for that. The sun is shining. The stock market is up. The hotel is full. I’ve got no complaints.” He lifted a hand, and the server brought him a cup of black coffee. “I had a phone call from the garage in town,” Liam said. “Gary tells me that your vehicle is in the shop. So I’ve brought you these.” He tossed a set of keys on the table.
Eyeing him suspiciously, Zoe ignored the offering. “I’ve heard of full-service hotels, but this is ridiculous.”
Liam leaned back in his chair. “Don’t get your hopes up. It isn’t a flashy sports car. Just an old Sentra that we keep for the occasional emergency.”
“I can’t imagine you’re this attentive to every guest.”
“You’d be surprised. And besides, I have a hidden agenda with you.”
Her heartbeat quickened. “How so?”
“My mother accused me of trying to run you off. I need to prove to her that I’m a gentleman. And who knows? You might coax me into playing hooky from work a time or two while you’re here.”
“You seem like the least likely person I’ve ever known to be led astray.”
“Then you’d be wrong. It’s springtime in the mountains. Even a workaholic like me can see the attraction.”
When he smiled, ever so gently, Zoe felt something inside her loosen and flower. Despite her tendency to hold people at a distance, something about Liam Kavanagh slipped past her defenses. He wasn’t a warm, fuzzy person. In fact, he was rather intimidating. But nevertheless, she felt a strong pull of attraction.
Despite that unsettling truth, she wasn’t yet ready to jump headlong into a flirtation that might make her time at the Silver Beeches uncomfortable. She picked up the keys and tucked them in her purse. “Thank you for the vehicle. I’ll be careful with it.”
He watched her like a cat watches a mouse. “I’m sure you will.” After a momentary silence, he continued. “So do you have any specific plans for your stay with us, or are you more the type to be spontaneous?”
“You said that last word as if it put a bad taste in your mouth. Do you have a problem with spontaneity?”
“Not really. Though it isn’t an attribute that fits my lifestyle very well.”
“Because Liam is all work and no play?”
His eyes narrowed. “You must think me dreadfully dull.”
“Not at all. I admire your work ethic.”
“Hogwash,” he said forcefully, startling her. “You probably don’t even own a day planner, do you?” She had the odd notion that he was attracted to her and critical of her at the same time.
She’d been judged and found wanting too many times in her life to let Liam do the same. For the moment, her indignation overrode her appreciation of his masculine appeal. “I believe it’s safe to say that our personalities clash, Mr. Kavanagh. Perhaps it might be best if we avoid one another while I’m here. Good day.”
* * *
With clenched teeth, Liam watched his beautiful guest walk away. The sway of her hips was no less mesmerizing in pants than it had been in a flowing skirt. He had come to the dining room earlier with every intention of getting to know Zoe a little better. Instead, he had lit the fuse of her temper in record time.
Was it the spark of attraction between them that made things so touchy? Or was Zoe right? Were the two of them oil and water?
Grumbling beneath his breath, he finished his coffee and stood up, ruefully aware that some of the luncheon guests had watched his encounter with interest. Schooling his face to a calm expression, he made his way across the room and exited to the hallway.
Pierre caught up with him en route to the lobby. The longtime employee’s face was creased with worry. “There was a man here, Mr. Kavanagh. Asking about Ms. Chamberlain. I got a bad feeling about the guy. Looked like he might be law enforcement or a P.I.”
Liam’s senses went on high alert. “But he didn’t identify himself as such?”
“No, sir. Didn’t say much of anything at all except that he was inquiring as to Ms. Chamberlain’s whereabouts. At least I think that’s what he wanted. He called her Zoe Henshaw, though.”
“What did you tell him?”
The concierge’s expression was awash with guilt. “I told him we had no guest by that name. He left, but I wondered if I should let Mrs. Kavanagh know.”
“I’ll handle it,” Liam said. “You did the right thing. Our guests expect and deserve their privacy. Keep an eye out for him and let me know if he shows up again.”
Liam returned to his office, his gut clenched with worry. Who was Zoe Chamberlain? And why did he feel the need to protect her? Hadn’t he learned his lesson long ago? Women were resilient creatures. His need to play Galahad was misplaced at best.
His jaw set, he picked up the phone and dialed the credit card company. After twenty minutes on hold listening to a watered-down version of Frank Sinatra tunes, he was finally connected to a customer service representative who was polite but not at all forthcoming. The woman cited privacy laws, but assured him that the card was not stolen and that the line of credit was unlimited.
Liam hung up and drummed the fingers of one hand on the blotter, no less agitated than he had been before. There was no reason to suppose that Zoe was anything other than an extremely wealthy woman who wanted to spend some time in the mountains.
But somehow, that explanation didn’t satisfy him.
Forcing himself to slog through a backlog of work, he made it an hour and a half before he conceded defeat and admitted that the Zoe situation was occupying his attention to the exclusion of all else. Though he would like to think he could let things play out in due time, he knew himself well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to be able to let it drop. He had to know more about Zoe. Both for personal and professional reasons. Where was she from? Did she have a job of any kind? Who was the man looking for her? Why did she drive an ancient van, and why was there evidence that at least some of the time, she wasn’t sleeping in four-star hotels?
&n
bsp; Telling himself that he might be imagining trouble where none existed, he typed the name Zoe Chamberlain into Google’s search box, hit a key, and waited. To his consternation, the only match from this region of the country was an African-American woman in south Georgia who produced some kind of folk art out of old silverware.
Trying Zoe Henshaw produced little else of note. The entries he found contained mostly generic information that could have pertained to any one of a number of people.
Of the Zoe Chamberlain with the golden hair, blue eyes and sunny disposition, there was no mention. Which meant that his oh-so-beautiful hotel guest was probably lying to him. Anger, disappointment, and an amorphous anxiety threatened to choke him.
The Silver Beeches was his turf. Everything that happened beneath this roof was under his domain. Even so, did he have the right to dig into the puzzle that was Zoe? Was he out of line in wanting to find answers?
Six weeks was a long time to wonder.
Four
Zoe loved the little Sentra. It was silver, of course. Although it sported a few dings and bruises, along with 150,000 miles on the odometer, the car had character, much like Bessie. It was also very easy to drive. Its age and appearance erased any concerns she might have had about borrowing someone else’s vehicle.
Armed with a map of the town, courtesy of Pierre, she thanked the parking valet who brought the car to the door of the hotel for her. Seating herself behind the steering wheel, she checked the location of all the various knobs and switches and adjusted the mirrors.
If Pierre had thought it odd she was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses and had her hair tucked back in a ponytail, he gave no sign. The disguise was necessary to calm her nerves.
Driving down the steep, winding highway was an adventure. Like the town itself, the mountain road conjured up images of the Swiss Alps. But the guardrail was sturdy, and the two lanes were plenty wide, so she had no real worries.
The hamlet of Silver Glen was laid out in a well-planned grid tucked between the two steep mountains that constrained its growth. Long and narrow, the peaceful community centered itself along a two-mile stretch of meandering road that wound in a lazy S from one town limit to the other. Cute shops and restaurants vied for space between quaint B and Bs and private homes.
The side streets were equally interesting. Zoe found a dry cleaner’s whose sign proclaimed it to be the Silver Press, a movie theater called the Silver Screen, and finally, the place she had circled on her map...Silver Bells, a music shop that sold everything from handmade dulcimers to electronic keyboards.
She spent a happy hour prowling the sheet-music section and debating the merits of a new strap for her guitar. In the end, her only purchase was three sets of replacement strings.
Music softened the rough edges of her life. It was usually easy to strike up a relationship with someone in a new town and offer to play a couple of gigs for free. After that, she was often booked here and there for casual events. She loved being surrounded by the trappings of music. Today she felt a sense of kinship with the little business operated by a man who looked suspiciously like Willie Nelson’s twin.
After leaving Silver Bells, she roamed on foot. A shallow river bisected the center of town at right angles to the road. Some long-ago citizens had constructed a covered bridge that was accessible to both cars and foot traffic. Zoe took out her phone and snapped a picture of the postcard scene.
There would be plenty here to keep her busy. Outdoor gear was available in stores everywhere, and the thought of hiking intrigued her. Perhaps she would invest in a good pair of boots.
When the dinner hour approached, she debated returning to the hotel, but she was leery of running into Liam again. She sensed he didn’t trust her, and his suspicions stung. Though he was correct to think she was hiding something, it was nothing that would bring harm to his precious hotel. A woman had a right to her secrets, didn’t she?
Feeling a bit down in the dumps, she spotted a business that promised to have a decent hamburger on the menu. Making up her mind in an instant, she opened the door and went inside. The Silver Dollar Saloon was dark but smoke-free, a fact that surprised, but pleased her.
Since it was far too early for the locals to really heat up the joint, she was able to grab the booth of her choice. Sitting so that she could look through the front window and study the activity on the street, she perused the limited menu. When the young waitress stopped by, Zoe ordered an Angus burger and sweet-potato fries with a root-beer float.
She took her time soaking in the ambience of the bar. The walls were decorated with black-and-white movie stills, some of them signed. North Carolina was a popular location shoot for producers, and apparently, a number of well-known faces had stopped in at the Silver Dollar to have a cold one at the end of a long day.
The booths that lined both sides of the room looked old. High-backed and made of dark wood, they bore the marks of time. The tables scattered down the center were constructed of the same wood. She almost expected an outlaw or two to come sauntering in.
As she was finishing up her meal, a man appeared from the back, startling her when he stopped at her elbow.
“Welcome to the Silver Dollar,” he said. “Haven’t seen you in town, so you must be a new visitor.”
She looked up, way up, and was surprised to see familiar blue eyes. But the black hair was longer and shaggier. “I’m guessing you might be a Kavanagh,” she said.
The man grinned. “Dylan. At your service. I own and operate this place, or perhaps it owns me, if you want to know the truth.”
“I’m Zoe Chamberlain.”
“So how are you enjoying Silver Glen?”
“I haven’t been here long, but your brother is treating me well up at the Lodge.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Lucky you. Can’t go wrong there.” The waitress said something to him, and he started to walk away. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Zoe.”
“Wait.” The word came out impulsively and with some urgency.
Dylan paused. “You need another root beer?”
“No. I was wondering if you could use a musician one evening. I sing and play guitar. I enjoy doing it, and you wouldn’t have to pay me. What do you think?”
His frown didn’t say much for her chances. “Aren’t you on vacation?”
“Not exactly. I’ve been ill and I needed a place to rest and recoup. Finding the Silver Beeches Lodge was serendipitous.” No need to tell him about Bessie. “I’m going to be here for over a month, and I’m not accustomed to doing nothing all day. It would mean a lot to me. And I’m good, I swear.”
Dylan’s grin flashed again. Zoe was surprised to realize that, unlike his brother’s, Dylan’s sexy smile didn’t cause her heart to stutter even a little. Apparently she had a thing for irritable, bossy guys in suits. Or at least one in particular.
The bar owner put his hands on his hips and stared at her. It suddenly occurred to Zoe that she wasn’t looking her best. Hair tucked back in a ponytail. Well-worn Red Sox cap. He probably thought she was either eccentric or lying about staying up at the Lodge.
Dylan Kavanagh sighed, for the first time sounding much like his brother. “Let me look at the schedule. I have a few bookings coming up. When I know something, I’ll call you at the hotel.”
She had to be satisfied with that. Even if her hands were already itchy to be playing music. Dylan’s bar was exactly the kind of place where she felt most comfortable. “I understand,” she said with a smile. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
* * *
Liam was more than a little surprised when Dylan showed up for a late dinner at the hotel. Maeve and Liam were sitting at a table by the window when his brother appeared. Dylan, wearing a dark sport coat over a pale blue dress shirt open at the throat and neatly pressed jeans, turned female heads as he crossed the room.
Maeve put her hand over her heart. “Dear Lord. It must be a sign of the apocalypse. My second-born son voluntarily dressing for din
ner and climbing the mountain without a parental guilt trip.”
Dylan bent and kissed his mother’s cheek before being seated. “I heard there was prime rib on the menu tonight. You know that’s my favorite.”
Liam snorted. “You never leave that bar unattended without a good reason. ’Fess up, little brother. Tell us what’s important enough to merit such a sacrifice.”
“Last time I checked, I had you beat in height by an inch and a half. I haven’t been your little brother since we both hit puberty, so don’t try putting me in my place.”
The sibling rivalry was good-natured and familiar. Liam didn’t see enough of his brothers, though he loved them all fiercely. Conor and Aidan, and Patrick, Gavin, and James all lived nearby, but the seven brothers led busy lives. For Liam, the hotel was a demanding mistress. Not that it had to be. He employed good people whom he trusted. But perhaps he was too much of a control freak to let them take over.
Maeve beamed at both of them. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m delighted. How did you know when we were eating?”
“I called Pierre and told him I wanted to surprise you.”
Liam nodded. “The man can keep a secret. I’ll give him that.”
The server came to take their order, and the next few minutes were taken up with food choices and wine selection. When the three of them were alone again, Liam sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Spill it, Dylan. What brings you up to the rarefied air of the Lodge?”
Dylan’s wavy hair was still damp from his shower. He pushed a hank of it off his forehead, pulled his chair closer to the table, and lowered his voice. “I ran into a guest of yours today.”
The back of Liam’s neck tingled. “Oh?”
“Zoe Chamberlain.”
Liam kept his expression neutral, but inside, every Neanderthal impulse he possessed urged him to tell his brother to back off. The lady was taken. That his knee-jerk reflex was ridiculous, he freely admitted. “Where did you see her?”
“She came into the Silver Dollar for an early supper. We chatted for a moment, because the place was mostly deserted.”
A Not-So-Innocent Seduction Page 4
