Lang pulled up promptly at seven. Beth had forbade her parents from coming out, and she met him on the porch. She was wearing one of her few dresses and the only one she had grabbed in her escape from the condo. She would have to go shopping before the Dillons’ party, or slip into the condo when she knew Bill would be at work. Although she detested shopping, she decided that in this case, it was the lesser of two evils. There were a few decent clothing stores in Saguaro, mostly catering to wealthy ranch owners and the tourists who frequented the ranches and the spa on Rogue Mountain.
Beth nearly swooned when he stepped from the Rover. He was dressed casually in dark slacks, a blue dress shirt, and a gray cashmere sweater. How had she never noticed growing up how incredibly sexy and handsome Lang Dillon was? Her body trembled as she walked down the steps toward him.
Lang watched her shy approach, equally stunned. Her pale green sleeveless dress hugged her subtle curves. The bodice caressed her round, small breasts, while the skirt flared out and swished in the slight evening breeze. A soft white shawl was draped over her shoulders. Lovely did not begin to describe the self-conscious creature standing three feet away from him.
“Wow, Beth, you look sensational!”
She blushed. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He held the door and she slipped into the car, leaving the scent of gardenias and some other exotic fragrance. Intoxicating.
He had made reservations at the Red Mesa Inn. Nestled in the foothills, ten miles from the nearest home or business, it was a popular honeymoon spot for those desiring seclusion and privacy. The inn’s terrace bistro was one of a handful of five-star restaurants in the southwest. At Rose’s suggestion, Lang had booked them a corner table with a spectacular view of the mountains.
As they were ushered to their seats, he was just making a mental note to thank his sister when he glanced over at Beth. Her face was ashen and her hands trembled.
“Beth, what’s wrong?”
“Ghosts, that’s all,” she said, shaking herself as the maitre d’ seated her.
“Would you rather have another table, sir?” the man asked.
“We’re fine, thanks,” Lang said, his tone making it clear that the maitre d’ should disappear, which he did.
Lang sat and reached across to take her hands. “Talk to me.”
“It’s fine, really. Just a surprise.”
“We can go to the Shake and Burger on Gila if you don’t want to be here. What is it?”
“Bill brought me here on my birthday last year. We sat at this very table.”
“I’ll ask them to change us. There were empty tables inside.”
“No, don’t be silly.” Tears rimmed her hazel eyes, and she dabbed at them with her napkin. “I’m okay, really.”
“Come on.” He stood and held out his hand. Hand in hand, they headed inside. When he spied the maitre d’, he asked Beth to wait a short distance away.
When he returned, he announced, “All set. Do you want to stay here and find a table with a different perspective? There are several, or we can find another place to eat.”
“Well, I do love the food here.”
Lang nodded to the maitre d’ and turned to her. “Ready?”
She smiled, and they were ushered out to a private terrace with one table, located inside the inn’s walled garden. Flowers bloomed everywhere—in beds, climbing the stone walls, and in colorful ceramic pots. When the maitre d’ vanished, Lang asked, “Is this okay?”
“Okay? Lang, this must have cost you a fortune! I never knew this garden existed.”
“According to Oscar, with whom I’ve gotten very close, it’s usually reserved for honeymooners or people like that.”
“It’s beautiful. Reminds me of one of my favorite childhood books, The Secret Garden.”
“After it had been restored.”
She looked at him in surprise.
“What? You don’t think boys liked that book? Loved it. My mom read it aloud to Rosie and me several times.”
She laughed. “A man of hidden depths. If I forget later, thank you. This is such a special night for me.”
“Seems like you needed something special after your afternoon. Did it go okay with your…not sure what to call him. Partner? Maybe ex, maybe not?”
“Bill. You can call him Bill. It was fine and relatively brief. Exit was a bit rocky. My big brother rushed in to defend me and intimidate Bill.”
“Good for him.”
She shrugged. “Maybe we could have a moratorium on that subject for tonight? Tell me about your work, your company, and life in the big city.”
“Not much to tell. Started Rambler Sports eight years ago, and we’ve done really well. My partner, Bertie—Roberta—is the business whiz, and I’ve handled sales and promotion. Bertie and her wife, Joan, handle all the daily retail oversight, and we have a couple of warehouses that ship for us. I’m lucky. It’s a great group of people. It’s actually fun to go to work. My job is either online or out in the field. I have a bunch of sales calls to make as I head east. May take a couple of day trips to Tucson and Flagstaff while I’m here.”
Throughout a spectacular seven-course meal, Lang regaled her with stories of Boston and his experiences since leaving Saguaro. As they sipped cappuccino and brandy, she asked, “What happened with your relationship, if you don’t mind my asking? If I’m prying, you don’t have to tell me.”
“We grew apart. That simple.”
“Oh.” Her lovely eyes gazed at him, clearly wanting more, as if his story might somehow help her survive her current nightmare.
“Cilla and I went to Middlebury together. We both hiked, skied. Seemed to have all kinds of common ground. Then we moved to Boston and things changed. She suddenly hated the outdoors and got back into the social scene. She grew up on Beacon Hill and was thrilled to be back, hanging out with her debutante crowd. The whole scene drove me right up the wall. We started doing more and more things without each other. I’d go hiking, she’d party, and then we meet up somewhere in between.”
“Sounds a little like Bill and me, actually. I mean, I’m outdoorsy, but he’s a rock climber, and I don’t like it.”
“My business has me outdoors a lot. Only tried rock climbing once, with a client, and didn’t much like it. Too hairy.”
“What worked with you and Cilla? I mean, what were the in-between times like? Were there any things you liked to do together?”
“Well, aside from the obvious….” He blushed. “We both liked hanging around on Sundays, the whole paper thing, long breakfasts. We liked walking in the city, theater, music, getting lost in the Fine Arts Museum on a rainy afternoon.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It was, and in truth, I miss it. But the in-between times became fewer and scarcer, and we started quarreling more. She would be pissed that I wouldn’t go to a party or another boring dinner with people I didn’t know and she barely did. It was time.”
“Was the decision mutual?”
“I brought it up, but yes, in the end it was mutual. Basically, she had another boyfriend our last year together. A hedge fund guy who was only too happy to be her social escort. They’re practically engaged now.”
“Were they…?”
“Having an affair? I don’t know. He mostly took her to all the parties I refused to attend. Truth was, by the time we broke up, I didn’t care what they were doing. That’s how I knew it was time.”
“But you miss her?”
“Sometimes. We were together a long time, but I wouldn’t go back. What I miss isn’t there anymore.”
Beth looked down at her hands. Her long, slender fingers toyed with her empty brandy glass.
“Want another?”
“No, thanks. Not unless you’d like to carry me out.”
He laughed. “Would be my pleasure. Sorry if I talked about myself all night.”
“Don’t be. It was just what I needed to get out of my head and forget for a few hours what a mess my life is.”
Her long, dark hair was down, straight, fine wisps caressing her shoulders. Errant strands fell across her face and he reached over and smoothed them back behind one ear, his touch soft and gentle. “Ready to go, then?”
She nodded. “But I do hate to leave this beautiful place.”
“Then we’ll come again. Let’s make a pact that the next time I’m in Saguaro, we’ll have dinner here, in this very spot.”
“That’ll be when? In a decade or so? Could be under new ownership and have turned into a Marriott by then.”
Before he could respond, the waiter brought the check, which Lang insisted upon paying. As they made their way out, Oscar the maitre d’ gave him a wink and a smile. She suspected that Oscar and the Red Mesa Inn had been well compensated for their special dinner.
Lang held the door again as she alighted at the house. There was a full moon, and the sky was bright, with stars casting a warm glow over the Valley. “It’s so light here,” he said. “The stars are incredible.”
“Feel like a walk? There’s a pretty one to the creek.”
“What about the wildlife, rattlesnakes, you know?”
“We have a good supply of anti-venom.”
“Why do I not find that comforting? Yet another reason why I left the Valley.”
“We’ll be fine. Let me grab a backpack from the shed, just in case.”