A Fabulous Wedding

by Dianne Castell

  He hoisted the pans into the truck bed, his muscles tightening under his T-shirt, pulling across his firm abs, making her crazy for him. She climbed into the cab, and he got in beside her and fired the engine. “Ready?”

  Oh, she was so ready. Ready to jump his bones right there in the truck. The afternoon was going to be a long one. Hopefully, Nick would let some smuggling information slip out and her present case of sexual frustration would be worth it.

  He backed out of the drive, careful to miss Kate’s tricycle and Cameron’s bicycle with training wheels, and headed down the street. His male scent filled the truck—at least, her side—and she couldn’t take her eyes from him.

  “What are you after?” Nick asked.

  She froze in her seat and stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “What do you hope to find…on our picnic?” He gave her a glance. “And you’re blushing.”

  “Sunburn.” More like Nick-burn! “Where should we picnic?”

  “Someplace with water. Panning for gold is tough without it. Any ideas?”

  His gaze fused with hers for a moment, his eyes as black as the Montana sky at midnight. She swallowed. Holy cannoli! He was thinking about her in the same way she was thinking about him. How could she want to have sex with a smuggler, especially one who’d slept with her, then left her? Lust had no common sense!

  They needed a distraction right now. “Take the road to the depot. Remember that lake I mentioned the other day, the one with good fishing by the old railroad tracks? We can picnic there. Pan for gold flakes.” And if she stood in the cold water, that was sure to zap her back into sanity.

  “So, we really are going to pan for gold?”

  “If I want my article in the Whistle Stop we are. I’ll get pictures of you. That’ll be good for your business. A lot of people camp and pan on the weekends for fun. Eversole is a real pro. Even leads expeditions into the mountains. He’s got gold fever bad. He spends more time being a miner than an editor. The pictures and the story will make you look like you’re fitting in. It’s important to do that, isn’t it?” She studied him for a minute, waiting for a reaction. “Fit in, I mean.”

  “As you said, it’s good for business.”

  The smuggling business. He comes and blends right in and no one suspects who he really is. He rounded the bend, with the lake to the side, mountains in the background. “This is incredible,” Nick said as he drew to a stop. “Who owns all this?”

  “It’s a state park.”

  “Good. The idea of it turning into a strip mall gives me the creeps. I’ve had enough of the city, the big life, the action. This is what I want now. And you want just the opposite.”

  She sat sideways and faced him. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll die of boredom?”

  “I sure hope so.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the simple touch an intimate connection she hadn’t counted on. He continued. “Though when you’re around, I can’t imagine being bored.”

  He looked as though he wanted to kiss her and she sure wanted to kiss him. She swallowed a whine and scrounged up some self-control. “We should get going.”

  She climbed from the truck and hauled the picnic basket and her camera from the back. Nick got the panning supplies. “Where’d you get these, anyway? You do a lot of panning?”

  Dixie started down to the lake and he followed, the pans clanking along. “They belong to Glen, Gracie’s ex. Getting rich quick is his life’s ambition. He convinced Gracie they should get a second mortgage on the house and fix it up. He took the money, their savings and left her with the kids. Lost the whole shebang in Vegas. I saw him this morning at the Sage. Sure hope he stays away from Gracie and the kids.” She stopped at an even spot of grass that dipped into the lake. “This okay?”

  “This is paradise.” Then he looked back at her, his eyes even darker, and she knew he included her in that statement. Trouble was she felt the same way. Not good! No getting it on with the local smuggler!

  “Let’s pan first,” she suggested.

  “Aren’t you famished?”

  “You have no idea.” She froze. He swallowed. Then she swallowed. “Oh, damn. Did I just say that?”

  “I think you did.”

  “Maybe we should go.”

  “You have the panning story to do. We…we’ll be fine. Friends, remember? Nothing more.”

  “Right.” She forced a smile. “I’ll give you friendly lessons on panning.” She slung her camera strap over her shoulder, hitching it high to keep it dry. She snagged a pan. “Follow me.” They trooped to edge of the lake. “Dip the pan in the water to collect some gravel, swill the gravel around to drain out the water. The gold sinks to the bottom. Piece of cake.”

  He hunkered down beside her to watch. He was too close, too handsome, and she wanted him way too much. She thrust the pan his way and got tweezers and a little bottle from her pocket. “Pluck out the gold flecks. Save them in the bottle. When you get enough, you can sell your findings. I don’t keep track of what gold’s going for an ounce right now. Panning’s fun. You can even afford a beer from your findings once in a while.”

  But she’d much rather be having fun with Nick than talking gold. She stood. She was rambling, and she was way too turned on for friendship. She had to get away from him. “Your turn.”

  He dipped the pan and repeated what she’d done, as she snapped pictures. He photographed well. Green grass, blue water, Nick’s dark features, Nick naked. She had to get out of here. “I’ll see if there’s a better place to pan.”

  She walked away. She could feel him staring at her, but she couldn’t look at him or she’d go back. She needed to cool off. Like that was ever going to happen. She could walk from here to the moon and still want that man.

  What to do? He was so handsome and kind and compassionate…and a crook! She turned back for another peck and saw a bear eating at the picnic basket, Nick with his back to the scene as he panned away, oblivious. Holy crap! She knew better than to leave food out. How dumb on her part. What had she done? Her brain was total mush.

  She slowly retraced her steps. Moving fast was not a good idea with a bear. She had pepper spray, but it was with the panning supplies. Besides, some people thought bears considered pepper spray a condiment to the main meal. Just then, Nick glanced up, his eyes connecting with hers. She made a quiet sound with her finger across her lips and pointed to the bear. Nick cut his eyes to the bear and stopped dead. Thank heavens he didn’t run.

  The bear sat on the blanket and gobbled food from one crockery container, then another. Dixie snapped pictures of Nick, the bear and the surrounding debris. This could be a neat story if they lived long enough for her to write it.

  Finally, the bear finished, stood—did he just burp?—and waddled toward Nick. Dixie’s heart jumped to her throat and she bit hard on her bottom lip. Bear attacks were more rare than lightning strikes, but they did happen.

  The bear burped again, stopped and meandered into the woods. Once he was there, Dixie walked up beside Nick and surveyed the damage. “I think he gave you a five-paw rating.”

  “From the way he took off for the woods, I don’t think the Dijon dressing on the pasta salad agreed with his digestive tract.”

  “For which we are eternally grateful. You could have been dessert.” She stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth. She couldn’t let another minute pass without doing that. What if he’d been hurt? He might be a smuggler, but…but…Darn, she really liked him anyway. Wasn’t she supposed to have more sense at forty? When did all that wisdom-coming-with-age stuff kick in? Now. Now!

  He wrapped his arms around her, the heat from his body mixing with hers. A perfect time, a perfect place, an almost perfect man. Did he have to be almost?

  His hands slid under her T-shirt, the feel of his fingers on her bare skin turning her on even more. Except this was so, so wrong. Falling for Nick set her up for a ton of heartache. Danny had left her for the model; Nick would leave her for prison. Danny had gotte
n the better deal, but leaving was leaving.

  She stepped back. “I can’t do this again. Splitting up is tough.”

  “I didn’t realize we were together.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re headed that way—at least for now—and then it’s going to get complicated and all fall apart because—” because you are in such deep doo-doo and going to jail “—because I’m leaving the Bend.”

  He started picking up the discarded pots. “What about the panning story?”

  “I got some shots, and the bear incident here will really make a good story. People love those almost-eaten-by-a-bear stories.”

  “Thank heaven for the almost.” He winked. She laughed and so did he, the tension between them broken, sort of. The friendship thing worked. They got along and could talk. Of course, friends also leveled with each other, and Nick was light-years away from doing that.

  He retrieved the panning equipment and loaded it into the truck. She followed with the basket. “No evidence of the smugglers being here,” she volunteered as he climbed into the cab and caught the engine.

  “This place is too out in the open—no place to hide.” He’d responded immediately, as if he understood exactly where smugglers would hang out and where they wouldn’t. He was so in with them. She couldn’t think of much to say on the way back except Turn yourself in to the authorities and beg for mercy. That wasn’t going to happen and she had no idea what to do about it except…turn him in? Oh, heck! Could she really do that?

  Nick pulled into Gracie’s driveway behind Wes’s Jeep. She had to say something. Thanks for a great picnic? That didn’t work. “I bet Wes and Gracie have that basement all ready for wallboard and paint. Let’s go see. Gracie’s kids are spending the day at a friend’s house so she can fix the salon. Nice of Wes to help out. We’re back early.” Gads, she was rambling again.

  Nick grabbed the duffel. “Where do you store the panning equipment?”

  They’d deteriorated to small talk. She hated small talk as much as she hated rambling. “Panning equipment goes in the garage around back. I’ll go check on renovations.”

  She walked to the house, then took the outside entrance to the basement. The door was painted bright yellow now, and had a little Wet Paint sign hanging from the knob. Carefully, she opened the door—to hair-washing bowls stacked in one corner, some counters and cabinets, mirrors leaning against the walls and three white swivel chairs in the middle of the floor. Wes sat in one and Gracie sat in his lap, and they were sharing a kiss to end all kisses.

  Gracie’s hands in Wes’s shirt; his hands under her blouse; tongues engaged in some wild mating dance—least, that’s what it looked like. Wes’s eyes rounded as he caught sight of her, and Gracie turned her way, startled but not budging. She grinned and finger-waved to Dixie. “Hi, sister dear.”

  Wes reddened from the neck up. “You’re back early.”

  Dixie swallowed. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you…”

  “We didn’t, either,” Gracie said, her cheeks pinking as she slid from Wes’s lap and straightened her shirt. “It…we…this just kind of happened.”

  She held out her hand to Wes. He took it and stood, sliding his arm around Gracie’s waist in a protective fashion as she added, “And I’m not sorry it did.”

  Wes did the dopey smile. “Me, too.”

  If Nick was a smuggler, so was Wes. Oh, terrific! The Carmichael sisters weren’t having any better luck with this second round of men in their lives than they had with Glen and Danny.

  NICK LUGGED the panning equipment down the driveway past the house to the detached garage. He opened the side door and set the duffel on a storage rack in the corner behind a blue Honda Civic. He started back down the drive, and spotted someone in Gracie’s house. A man, head down, tearing through the place, obviously searching for something, obviously not supposed to be there, obviously not Wes.

  Nick ducked below the windows, found the back door to the house and let himself in. He crept to the back room, came up behind the man and took him in a chokehold. “Looking for something, buddy?”

  The guy gasped. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Concerned citizen. If you belonged here, you wouldn’t be sneaking around when everyone else is downstairs, and you wouldn’t be tearing hell out of the place.”

  “My house. I got a right.”

  Nick let the man go and stepped back. “Glen.”

  He flashed a sly grin. “Guess I got a reputation.”

  “As a no-good jerk who takes money from his wife and kids. That’s what you were doing here now. Seems to be your m.o.”

  “And you’re that new cook in here from Denver.” Glen rubbed his neck, sizing Nick up. “Cook, my ass. They don’t teach those holds in no cooking school. Who the hell are you really?”

  “The man who’s going to kick your butt so hard you won’t sit down for a month if you ever show up here again. Got it?”

  Glen’s eyes narrowed; his lips curled. “You and what army, pretty boy?”

  “Trust me, I got the army and I’m not pretty when I’m pissed, and you’re pissing me off big-time. Get the hell out of here and don’t stop trucking till you pass the Montana state line. I got friends and they have friends. Don’t come back.”

  Glen gave Nick a cold stare, then left. Nick headed for the basement. He’d tell Gracie and Dixie about Glen, and he’d tell Wes and Jack. They all needed to keep an eye out. Two women living alone with two kids and Glen the scum ball visiting wasn’t a good mix.

  Nick passed through the tidy ranch-style house and found the stairs. He started down and met Dixie coming up. Something was wrong. “You look…upset.”

  “What are you doing up here?”

  “Later. Didn’t Wes and Gracie get along? You look like something happened. What?”

  “Oh, Wes and Gracie got along, all right. Real well. Too well. There’s something about the Carmichael women that attracts all the wrong kind of men.”

  “Hey, Wes is a great guy, and somehow I’m mixed up in that crack, too.”

  She sighed. “You think so, Nick? Just maybe?”

  All the fight and sarcasm went out of her. She let out a deep breath and rested her forehead against his chin. “Damn you, Nick Romero. Damn you, damn you, damn you.” Then she walked out the door.

  Okay, what the hell was that all about? Something to do with Wes and Gracie? And him? Before he could go down the stairs, Wes came up and asked, “Is Dixie okay?”

  “No. What went wrong?”

  Wes blushed and Nick said, “Hell, man, what did you do?”

  “Nothing…yet. Gracie and I sort of clicked and Dixie walked in on us fooling around.” He shrugged. “We weren’t fooling around, fooling around, but damn close. I wasn’t expecting you for a while. Dixie suddenly got all upset, and now Gracie’s all upset.”

  “You and Gracie?”

  “Maybe, but Gracie’s really worried about her sister.”

  “Let me get to the bottom of this. Oh, and tell Gracie to start locking her doors and to keep an eye out. Her creep of an ex was here going through her things, digging for money.”

  Wes’s eyes widened a fraction and turned steely. No one would have noticed except Nick. They knew each other the way they knew themselves. Mother was pissed. And Mother cared about Gracie.

  “Think I’ll hang around here for a while,” Wes said. “The kids should be home soon.”

  “Watch your back, and everyone else’s.”

  “Always,” Wes said.

  Nick gave a quick nod and left. He had to find Dixie. What was going on with her? Something with him and her, and now Wes, and now Gracie.

  What the hell could it be?

  Chapter Eight

  Nick backed his truck out of Gracie’s driveway and headed for the Purple Sage. Maybe Dixie had gone there. Something had her ready to spit nails, and he wanted to know what. He cared more than he should on a case, but there wasn’t much he could do about how he felt. The point was not to act on his feeli
ngs, to keep a clear head and do the assignment. He parked the truck at the curb and went inside; the place filling up for dinner. No Dixie.

  When he came out, Jack drove by in his cruiser, and Nick flagged him down. Another man was in the car. Big, military hair, olive T-shirt. Army? “Have you seen Dixie?” Nick asked.

  Jack nodded down the street. “She’s marking out the route for that 5-K run she’s got planned. How’d it go today? You and Dixie find anything at the lake?”

  “A bear.” And a ton of frustration. He cut his eyes to the army man and Jack said, “Meet Flynn MacIntire, army colonel. His boy found the Louis Vuitton. We keep Flynn in the loop because he’s mean and ugly. He also just got back from adopting a baby from Central America.” Nick grinned and shook hands with Flynn. Jack continued. “I looked around the area where you went off the road. I doubt if the smugglers will meet up there again. But we have no clue where else they’ll meet.”

  “And they’re headed back here in two days if my estimate is right about there being a five-day lapse between meetings,” Nick said. “We better come up with something. Plus there’s another wrinkle. Dixie might be onto me. She’s acting weird. Wes’s cover and mine won’t last much longer, no matter how much restaurant equipment I order.”

  “We’ll meet at the office at seven. Figure out the most likely spots the smugglers will be. We’ll need to cover as much of the area as possible by ourselves. If we use too many outsiders, we’ll spook the bad guys. I’d bet anything they have a snitch in town.”

  “Keep an eye out at Gracie’s. I caught her ex rifling through her house. Wes is there now.”

  Jack grinned. “I heard. Seems we got a new romance in town.”

  Nick chuckled. “This just happened about an hour ago.”

  “Yeah, the gossips are slipping,” Jack said. “We usually get faster feedback. Good luck with Dixie, and I mean that more ways than one.”

  The cruiser took off and Nick drove down the street, passing the food market on the way. Barney had come out to lock up for the day. Nick stopped to say hi and Barney said, “If you’re looking for Dixie, she’s headed for the movie house. Just bought a pedometer to walk off the route for that breast cancer event.” He stood up tall. “I’m entering, doing the 5-K run. Been training since Dixie wrote that piece about it in the Whistle Stop.”