by Michele Hauf
“They’re good for you—full of iron and other nutrients.”
“That’s what vitamins are for. Okay, next question before the thought spoils my appetite. Favorite beverage?”
Cleo was glad to see his melancholy had gone. He was teasing and playful, much the way he’d been earlier. “Well, until this weekend, it was iced tea or a light beer. I’ll go back to the tea come Monday. I think I’ve had enough alcohol to last me a while.”
“Ahh, but champagne isn’t alcohol,” he winked. “I like scotch myself and a liqueur called glayva, It’s scotch-based. I got into it the last time I was in Scotland.”
“You travel a lot—you’ve mentioned Hawaii, Alaska, and now Scotland. I’ve hardly been anywhere—Los Angeles, Catalina, Mexico, Vancouver—that’s it. My dad used to travel as part of his job, but not anymore.”
“You haven’t told me where you live. So, where does Cleo Jones call home?”
Cleo focused on the landscape unfolding around her. Thinking about herself in the third person might make it easier, but she hated people who talked that way. She’d worried about answering this question, but Mitch was right, half-truths were better than lies and would probably make her far harder to find in the long run.
9
Sam waited for her answer. She looked at him and smiled.
“I’m from Hidden Valley, Alberta. I live with my dad. I told you a little about him last night,” Cleo said. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“You’re Canadian? You don’t sound like any of the Canucks I’ve met before.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a big country. Not every American sounds the same either.”
“Touché. So whereabouts in Alberta? I’ve been there a few times.”
“Between High River and Vulcan, south of Calgary.” And that was almost the truth. She’d been born in Calgary while her dad had been there on a three year teaching exchange. It was where he and her mother had met. She still had Lemay cousins on her mother’s side in High River.
“Vulcan?” He raised his eyebrows. “As in the planet from Star Trek?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, but the town was there long before the television series, although they’ve done their best to capitalize on it—murals, themed buildings, spaced-based activities, lots of memorabilia, and a monument shaped like the U. S. S. Enterprise. In 2011, they were officially given the honor of being the Star Trek Capital of Canada. People like those who attend these conventions flock there every year. Mitch loves the place, as you can imagine. It’s not unusual to see people dressed like Klingons, Ferengi, Andorians, you name it, at any time of the year. You won’t see many Orion slave girls in winter though. Canadian prairie winters can be brutal. It’s also the highest spot on the prairies and home to the Big Sky Observatory.” Thank God Mitch had talked about this last month. She was working on her next book and planned to spend some time there later this month. “Vulcan was founded in 1910 and was actually named after the Roman god of the underworld. So, what about you?”
“I’m a California boy, born and raised in San Francisco. I still spend a lot of time there when I can. It’s a beautiful city. There are all kinds of things to see and do. I’d like to take you out to the Rock someday.”
“Being born near the ocean probably explains why you like it so much. I’ve read a lot about San Francisco, but I’ve never been there. Alcatraz must have been a terrible place. My dad talks about the big earthquake during the World Series. It’s one of his sports moments. I’ve seen tons of pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge; it gets destroyed in just about every disaster movie—I would hate to get caught on it.”
“Believe it or not, suspension bridges are among the safest kind of bridge. Have you been camping?”
Cleo nodded. She had—she’d slept in a tent at her uncle’s cottage with a couple of cousins when she’d been seven.
“Great, I’ll have to take you the Golden Gate National Recreation Area. It’s a terrific place to camp with its giant Sequoia trees. Most people don’t realize it, but Golden Gate Park, in the center of the city, is bigger than Central Park in New York City. I love my hometown.” He took a mouthful of the scotch he’d poured himself. “You mentioned it was just you and your father at home, but are there any brothers or sisters out there?”
I wish. Having a brother or sister might ease the pressure now.
“Nope, I’m one of a kind. Dad used to call me his little miracle. Mom and Dad met in their late-thirties and were amazed when I came along. I know you have two sisters, do you have other family?”
“No. I’m the eldest, Jane’s next, and Liz is the baby. Our parents were killed in a plane crash twelve years ago—no aunts and uncles, so I looked after the girls.”
“I’m so sorry. That must have been rough. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose both parents at the same time. Losing Mom was hard, but to lose Dad, too...”
“Well, I learned to appreciate the value of money and hard work. I was in school, Liz had just started Hotel Management at college, and Jane was in her second year of Nursing. Everything was mortgaged to the hilt. It took a long time to climb out of debt.”
“But you’re good now?” she asked. “I mean you don’t wine and dine a girl like you did last night if you’re almost broke?” At least she hoped he didn’t. Money might not be the be all and end all of things for her, but she didn’t like people who threw it around when they couldn’t afford to either. That had been another problem with Dave. He’d always been trying to live above their means, and the credit card debt he’d had was one of the reasons they hadn’t married right after graduation. When he’d inherited all the money, he’d paid off the debts, but there had been new problems to contend with.
“Money’s not a problem now, but you never know. The economy’s been on life support a few times lately, and all business is tied to the economy one way or the other. You can’t take it for granted.”
His words echoed those Dave had spoken six years ago, the day she’d broken their engagement, and she swallowed the lump in her throat. It was just as well their relationship had no future. She wouldn’t get involved with a man who made money the main priority in his life.
Sam continued. “I worked my ass off to be where I am today. I still work long hours. I don’t want to go back to the lean times.”
“Is that why you became an … entertainer—not that there’s anything wrong with that—but … well, you’re really smart. You could do lots of other things. You would make a terrific teacher. Teachers don’t make a fortune, but it’s a decent wage.”
She hoped her comment wouldn’t anger him, but it really mattered to her. She thought if she could find a loophole, she might be able to see him again. She watched his face. He’d frowned momentarily, but now that wonderful smile she loved was back.
“The entertaining is only a hobby now. Since I’m getting older, I’ll give it up soon. I also work occasionally as an architect. My specialty is renovating old homes.”
Cleo relaxed, releasing some of the tension she’d been trying to hide all morning, pleased at the idea he was something other than a boy-toy. If he could be persuaded to give up the dancing sooner rather than later, things could work out between them. They might have a future after all.
“Do you design houses, too?”
“I do. Sometimes I even design entire neighborhoods.”
“That must give you an amazing sense of achievement, seeing something you put on paper become a reality. Who do you work for?”
“I work for LJS Enterprises just like Matt does.” There was pride in his voice.
“Well, your boss must really like you if he lets you play with his expensive toys.”
“We go way back. So what do you do when you’re not painted green and piling up books?”
She concentrated on the vista before her and hoped she could pull off the subterfuge she’d planned. The first part had been easy. It was going to get harder from now on. Part of her hated the lying. It went
against everything she believed, but Mitch was right. As long as his career was in flux, nothing good could come of this relationship.
“This and that, certainly nothing as exciting as designing neighborhoods. I’m a proofreader/reviewer and I take pictures.” She had gotten paid for that photo she’d taken of the moon rising over the desert.
“You work for Mitch’s publisher?” His arm was around her shoulder and his hand caressed her upper arm, sending delicious sensations through her, confusing her. Her body wanted this man and even though her brain said no, her body was winning the battle. If she were a cat, she would purr. She swallowed the lump of need in her throat. She didn’t want to lie anymore, so she skipped over a direct answer.
“I get to read books before they’re released. I check them for typos, repeated words, missing punctuation, and then send them back to be formatted for e-books and print.”
Of course, she worked directly for Mitch, and the only books she proofread and reviewed were hers, but that was beside the point. Mitch’s editor had offered her full-time work if she ever wanted it.
“Why isn’t a gorgeous woman like you involved with someone or married? Are all the men in Hidden Valley blind?”
“There aren’t that many. It’s a small town, population five thousand. I know just about everyone there, and there isn’t anyone I’m ready to hitch my wagon to, as they say. I was engaged once. It didn’t work out. We had similar dreams and ambitions at first, and then he changed. What I wanted wasn’t good enough anymore. He met someone else.” And slept with her while he was still with Cleo. That woman had money and social position; Cleo was a nobody. Money changed people. “Since then I’ve kept busy with work and taking pictures and of course, I look after Dad and the house.” That was all painfully true.
“What did you want that your fiancé didn’t?” There was compassion and curiosity in Sam’s eyes.
“Simple things, really. I may enjoy expensive champagne once in a while, but I wouldn’t want to live on it. I’m really more of a beer and pretzel girl. I wanted a good job, a house, a dog or cat, and a couple of kids. I didn’t care about fancy cars, jewelry, and trips around the world. Money’s nice. It can improve your quality of life, but I’ve seen it change people. I didn’t want that. I wanted what mom and dad had—a forever kind of love.” If that doesn’t scare him away …
“You said wanted—what about now?”
She smiled ruefully. “I still want it.” She needed to change the subject, if only for a few minutes. “Is this going to be Jane’s first baby?”
“First boy, yeah. Her six-year-old daughter, Rianne, who keeps me on my toes. She’s pretty excited about it too. I think Liz is envious, but she’s a career woman, dedicated to the job, although the latest whale at the casino, a British lord, is giving her ideas.”
“What about you, Sam. What do you want?”
“Right now? You.” He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly, the sweetness giving way to the tightly controlled passion she sensed in him, passion mirrored in her.
Sam pulled away from her. Kissing her was torture when he wanted to do so many other things to her delectable body, but this was neither the time nor the place. Everything he’d learned about her made him want to know more. So far, he’d only lied about being a Chippendale, but from what she’d said, discovering he was Sam Mason, multimillionaire real estate developer, might not be a whole lot better for him. He must have put his foot in it when he’d told her he never wanted to be broke again. He had to show her the good things money could do.
He hadn’t lied about being broke. When Mom and Dad had been killed, the firm had been up to its eyeballs in debt. Dad had made a few bad investments, and the company assets were in danger of foreclosure. Money had been tight, and he’d sacrificed a lot to keep the girls from feeling the pinch. He’d used insurance money to leverage funds and had built his first neighborhood in Southeast San Francisco. He hadn’t looked back. His corporate offices were there, but he had a satellite office in New York as well as in London. Money didn’t mean the world to him, but he never wanted to be on the edge of bankruptcy like he’d been.
He pulled her closer and pointed out a section of beautifully colored stone canyon walls. He watched her eyes light up, and she reached for her camera.
Seeing the joy and animation on her face as she took dozens of photographs in quick succession made him wonder what she saw when she looked through that lens.
“You really love photography, don’t you?”
“I do. I got quite a few snapshots of the flowers in the salon this morning. I tend to stick to landscape pictures. I don’t like having my picture taken, as you may have noticed. If people inadvertently show up in my shots, I usually Photoshop them out. I’m sure your picture gets taken often.”
“I wouldn’t say any more than anyone else in my position, but it’s taken plenty of times that’s for sure. I can take a picture without cutting off people’s heads, but I prefer to let others do it. I don’t understand apertures, foci, lens, and whatever else professional photographers rave about. My talents lie elsewhere. I love to draw.” He indicated the camera. “Are you going to print them all?”
“Definitely not.” She set the camera aside and sat down beside him again. “I’ll download them and pick the best. I’ll edit them; I may even combine a few, and when I have the pictures the way I like them, I’ll print them.”
“Have you considered making it your primary source of income? You could become a photojournalist. I’ve seen lots of coffee table books in my travels. People love to look at pictures of foreign and exotic locations, plants, and animals.”
“That would be another bucket list item.” She chuckled. “Maybe someday, but for now, landscape photography is just a hobby I indulge in when I can. I don’t have the money or the time to travel extensively, and even if I could, I have other responsibilities. Looking through the lens of the camera is my escape, but if I did it every day it might lose its magic, and that would make me sad.” He saw regret on her face. What was she doing that no longer brought her pleasure?
“Tell me about your dad. You mentioned he likes classic cars and baseball and he used to travel. What else does he do?”
Cleo stared at the mesa below them, and he wondered if she were going to answer.
“Dad’s retired,” she lied. “He does a lot of fishing in the summer. He likes classic cars, classic books, collects pottery, enjoys sports—all sports but primarily hockey and football. He cheers for Calgary all the way. He puts together models of antique cars—he has a room full of them at home.”
“I follow hockey, but Canadian football confuses me—it’s that missing down.” He kissed the top of her head. “I got the impression last night that your dad can’t be easy to live with. I know you still live at home—not that there’s anything wrong with that—but is it your choice or his?” He’d purposely repeated the words she’d used when she’d asked about his “career.” He hoped someday they could laugh about it. Had he really said he’d worked his ass off? No wonder she hadn’t commented. Even he’d be speechless if someone in that line of work used that expression.
“My choice—mostly economics before Mom died. When I first started work, I only made twenty-eight grand a year. My fiancé and I worked in different cities and we were saving for a house. Living at home made sense. I’m doing better now and could afford my own place, but Dad needs me. I’m all he has.” He heard the love she had for her father in her voice. “Dad’s not a young man. He’s a little protective, but he wants what’s best for me. Mom was everything to him. They’d look at one another and you just knew how much they cared for each other. Losing Mom changed him. He’s lost interest in everything he loved; he’s not living, he’s existing, and I don’t know how to help him. We both need to move on and get on with our lives, but …”
He saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. The relationship her parents had was light years away from the fighting and arguing he remembered at home. “You s
aid your dad helped you through the dark time. Was that when your engagement ended?”
“Yes. I took it hard. I thought we were soul mates. Was I wrong! He’s on his third or maybe it’s his fourth wife now.” She giggled. “The alimony must be killing him. Has there been anyone who almost became Mrs. Mason?”
Sam bristled. He looked at Cleo to see if there was any guise in her question. It had sounded innocent enough. Why am I making a big deal of this? I asked her about past relationships.
“There have been a few who’ve tried, but only one I considered taking to the altar. Our families had been friends for years. I really thought we were in love, but I guess, from what you’ve said, there was probably more than a little of your ex’s attitude in her. She’d seemed like the perfect wife—we moved in similar circles, she knew what people wanted. She had the contacts, and I had the ambition. I wanted to design mid-income houses for families. She wanted me to focus on the more lucrative designs. When push came to shove, she admitted having aspirations that were substantially different from mine. She wanted money and power more than creating a future with me.” He fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Since then, like you, I’ve stayed away from serious relationships. As the saying goes: once bitten, twice shy.”
She didn’t say a word, but stared out the window nestled against him. He would be content to stay that way all day. The cabin phone rang. He reached over and answered it.
“Yeah, Matt ... Okay.” He hung up and turned to her.
“We’ll be landing in about five minutes. Our Hualapai guide, Walter, will meet us at the airport and take us to the bridge.”
Sam stood to put their glasses aside, and Cleo reached for the red bag she’d brought with her. She rooted through it, pulled out a tube of sunscreen, and handed it to him. “Would you mind helping me reapply? You have to really rub it in; otherwise, it’ll stay white, and I’ll look like Casper.” She giggled nervously
