Chapter Four

The doorbell chimed, and Myles looked at his wristwatch. A bit early for Justine. His Top-siders touched down silently on the Carrara marble floor of the entryway. He opened the door to Carol Katz.

“Hello, Myles.” Her hot pink lips smiled.

He’d not seen her in at least a year, and only then from a distance. Her white hair suited her more than the yellow-blonde she’d hung on to for so many years.

“Carol, what a surprise.” She smiled as if he’d complimented her. “What brings you to see me?” Although he guessed why, he felt no desire to extend the courtesy of an invitation into his home, at least not until she volunteered what he already knew.

“It has been a while, Myles. You may be surprised to see me here, but I’m surprised I haven’t run into you around town in the last...what...year or two?”

“I’ve become quite a homebody.” As if he ran around town or anywhere near her world.

“If your home is as lovely as it was so many years ago, I guess I can understand that.” She glanced past his shoulder and into his entryway.

Ah, the reminder of their brief past. Of course she wouldn’t miss the opportunity to mention a time far more important to her than to him. Still, he didn’t extend the invitation. Impatience played at his nerves, but he waited.

She sighed and returned her gaze, cocking her head to one side in a flirtatious gesture. “I could’ve called, but I felt what I have to tell you might best be delivered with a personal touch.”

“Yes?” He knew what personal touch she might prefer. He’d given in to her some years back, in a maneuver to bargain her silence. In exchange, his silence of their adulterous affair had been his counter. Would her husband still care? He could put up with her less than subtle flirtations to get what he now wanted. “Perhaps you should come in then.”

She traipsed across the threshold, paused, her hip grazed his and she continued past him into his living room. She stopped in front of the fireplace and faced him. For her age, she wasn’t entirely unattractive. Some men his age might find her obvious attempt at seduction inviting. His mind wandered to the last young co-ed he’d had, and to Justine. Maybe money would entice Carol to do his bidding this time.

“I’d offer you tea, Carol, except I have an appointment shortly, so we’d best conduct our business.”

Her hand fell from her hip and fisted at her side. “Business?”

“I made the assumption.” He shrugged. “Forgive me if this is a social visit.”

“Of course it’s not a social visit.” Her shoulders squared, defensively. “I...I’ve seen some of Kaya’s work, some sketches, and thought you might want to know about them.”

He crossed the room to stand next to her. “I know about them, my dear Carol. The question is, what shall we do about them?”

“You know?”

“Please sit.”

He touched her elbow, pleased at her response, and she moved without hesitation, joining him on the sofa. The distance between them allowed him to hold her interest without any additional contact. It would be so easy, but the desire had long ago died.

“I knew she’d visit you. What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Her eyes blinked rapidly, and her hand went to her chest.

“Yes.” He nearly laughed at her feigned innocence. “You’re the auntie and in a good position to acquire the art, don’t you think? Just like you acquired the art of your deceased sister so many years ago. I was very appreciative, if you’ll remember.” The redness rising on her neck recalled his appreciation. The peak of her nipples formed the exclamation point. He settled against the sofa, confident she’d arrive at the conclusion he guided her toward. “I hoped we could work together on this. Surely the thought must have occurred to you.”

“Myles—”

“Come, come, Carol. You know money is not an issue.” No, money wouldn’t be an issue. Money would be the only form of payment he’d give her. He didn’t intend on a third affair like the second, a combination of lust and greed. He had no desire to entangle himself all over again with this needy woman, not the way she wanted anyway. He’d deal with only her greed now. “I’m counting on you, as I know I can, to keep our relationship in this affair a secret.” He leaned toward her, close enough to bathe her in his words. “As I have kept another affair secret for you.”

She clasped her hands in her lap, her mouth falling into what looked to be its natural scowl. Her fingers held her attention as she gathered her thoughts. When she finally looked into his face, a smirk accompanied her words. “Of course, Myles. How nice we can benefit, mutually.”

****

White linen, sleek recessed lighting and candles on the table—not what Lacy expected in this rugged mountain city. The host of the Brie showed them to a table by the window overlooking the street and train station beyond. Although a working station, the outside of the building looked more like a gingerbread house. An obvious draw for tourists, the city had capitalized on the focal point of the main road through town.

Chance rested his forearms on the table, gazing across the candle. Sparks flickered in his eyes and highlighted the gold in the hair falling onto his forehead. Although he looked more suited to a granola café or lumberjack inn, the contrast left her breathless with his raw masculinity. He appeared perfectly relaxed.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to follow his example—and to calm the quivers he caused. “You’re showing me a whole new side of Flagstaff.”

He gave a cursory glance at the art on the walls. “I think it’s the California influence.”

“California?” She opened the menu.

“We’ve been discovered and have quite a few transplants.”

“Do you mind?”

“Not if the food’s as good as they say.” One corner of his mouth ticked up as he opened the menu. “Which appetizer would you like?”

“They all look good.”

He cocked a brow and tipped his chin down. “I know you’re starving, but I’d say we should stick to two.”

She laughed. “And share?”

“Of course.” His full-blown smile met her laughter.

“Do you drink wine?”

“Anything red, regardless of what I’m eating.”

She smiled. “I’m so happy you’re not a wine snob. Red is always my preference.”

Chance opened the wine list. “Well, there are plenty of California offerings.”

“How about Merlot?”

The waitress approached the table, a young woman with her hair pulled back in a chignon, dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. Her smile widened when she saw Chance.

“Good evening, Sheriff.” She glanced between the two of them, a surprised slant to her eyes.

Lacy gawked at Chance. “Sheriff?” The dark and dangerous bad boy image might be blown.

He nodded at her then at the waitress. “Hi, Laura. Didn’t know you worked here.”

“This is my second week.” The young waitress glanced at her again with a sweet smile, looked at Chance and pinched her lips together as if suppressing a grin. “I’m still working at the Grand View and here part time. Until my husband gets a job.”

“Did you and the jerk get home okay last night?” He darted a glance at Lacy. “Her pet name for him, not mine.”

“Thank you, we did.” She rolled her eyes, opened her mouth then looked as if no more should be said on the matter. She raised her brows and flicked her eyes toward Lacy.

“Laura, this is Lacy Dahl. She’s visiting Flagstaff from Scottsdale where they light their walkways much better than we do.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Dahl. I didn’t know the Meadowlarks had friends in Scottsdale. I have an aunt who lives there.”

“Nice to meet you, Laura. I don’t think the Meadowlarks knew they had friends in Scottsdale either.”

Laura blinked. “Huh?”

Chance chuckled. “We’ve just met. Yesterday.”

“Did you mean the Grand View Hotel, Laura? That’s where I’m staying.”

“I clean rooms there. Do you like it?”

“Yes, and don’t tell me about the ghosts.” She smiled and waggled a finger at her. “Seems everyone is convinced I’ll see one.”

Laura stabbed the air with her ink pen. “I haven’t seen any, although one housekeeper tried to use it as an excuse for not putting a room back together properly.” She put a hand on her hip, mimicking the lazy maid. “I did clean the room. Must’ve been the ghost who made this mess.”

She giggled. “I better get your order. What can I start you two out with?”

“Your choice, Chance.” She closed her menu.

“Give us the grilled flatbread and also the asparagus appetizers. And a bottle of the Teira Merlot.”

“Great. Thanks, Sheriff.” Laura flashed them both a smile before moving to the next table.

“So, you’re a sheriff?” She regarded him with a different slant. Dangerous and sheriff didn’t seem congruous. Phoebe might be disappointed she hadn’t met her first bad boy after all. So much for first impressions. No surprise. Reading men was not her forte. If she’d gotten nothing else out of her marriage, she’d learned that about herself.

“Sheriff is what they call me.”

“Were you walking the beat last night when you came to my rescue?”

“I don’t walk a beat.” A chuckle cracked his serious expression.

“Well, what do sheriffs do?”

“I’m an elected official; the Coconino County sheriff. Most of what I do is—”

“Ah, the man in charge. Of the whole county?”

He shrugged, but he didn’t reply right away as Laura returned with their wine.

The man in charge fit him. On the surface anyway. She still couldn’t help but feel she’d read something about him, more than merely a reserved personality.

They gazed at each other as the young waitress poured the wine for him. He sipped and nodded his approval. She finished pouring and moved on.

“Okay, Sheriff, I’m impressed. Elected official. How daunting.”

“Daunting?”

“I can’t say I’ve ever dined with a politician before.”

“I’m far from a politician. I’m a sheriff, Lacy. Plain and simple.”

Sheriff or not, plain and simple hardly described the man on the other side of the table. Something simmered below the surface. Maybe his calm exterior and his unreadable face had something to do with his job. Or not. His demeanor spoke to privacy, and she couldn’t imagine him campaigning, speaking to crowds, making promises and kissing babies.

She lifted her glass. “Here’s to being in the right place at the right time.”

He lifted his glass in the air, lifted his brows in a question.

“You might have saved my life.” Although she’d been frightened last night, she joked about the experience.

His uplifted hand dipped a bit, he blinked and his copper eyes grew dark amber.

Did he think she’d really been in danger? She hesitated, thinking she should apologize for joking.

He drew a deep breath. “To new friends,” he said. Their glasses clinked. “And ghosts in dark alleys.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Take a drink or risk bad luck.” He sipped his wine and quirked a brow at her.

“I’ve never heard that one.” She sipped. “So, tell me more, Sheriff Meadowlark, which by the way, you might have mentioned.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because.”

“Ah, good reasoning.” He teased and nodded his head.

Laura returned with the appetizers. “I think you’ll really like the grilled flatbread.” She handed her the miniature spatula. “Enjoy.”

“I don’t know what you do when you’re not researching family history in Flagstaff.” Chance continued as if Laura hadn’t interrupted. “Can’t recall we’ve had much of a conversation.”

“Touché.” She tilted her head. “We’ll swap stories. Okay?”

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?”

She laughed. “Something like that. Tell me, who are the Meadowlarks?” She scooped a piece of flatbread and offered it to him.

“Thanks. That would be my daughter, Jenny, and me. She’s an art student at NAU. She’s nineteen going on thirty.” He smiled, obviously fond of his daughter. “Who are the Dahls?”

“I have a son, Dylan, who’s in Paris studying to be a chef. My daughter, August, lives in Tucson. She owns an art gallery, and it’s her fault I’m here.” She thumped the table. “My turn. How long have you been the sheriff?”

“I’m in my second term.”

“What—”

“Hold up.” He waved a piece of flatbread in the air. “I believe it’s my turn. How long have you been...what do you do?”

She laughed. “Okay. Mmm. This flatbread is delicious. I own a coffee café called the Lacy Latte. I bought it a few months after Conrad, my husband, died And what did you do before you were sheriff?”

“Flagstaff policeman.”

Laura stopped at their table to take their dinner orders.

“So, you’ve always been a lawman.” She jumped in as soon as the waitress walked away, not waiting for him to think of a question for her.

“I prefer to think of myself as a peace keeper. Maybe it’s my Hopi heritage.”

“How’s that?” She bit into an asparagus appetizer.

“The word Hopi is a shortened version of the original tribal name, which translates to peaceful people.”

“That’s beautiful.” She’d felt his peaceful side last night, taking charge and calming her. “My mother was Hopi.”

He assessed her face. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“What made you leave the police force to become the sheriff?”

“I needed...a change.” Chance stared into his wine, his chest swelled with a breath.

His tone intrigued her. There was more to this story, and she’d only scratched the surface. But before she came up with another question to draw him out, he raised a hand to stop her.

“I seem to remember a promise of a story you were going to tell me.”

A change of subject. He seemed determined to keep his distance. Maybe the man did possess a dark streak. A secret. She didn’t need secrets or men with secrets. Her chest tightened, and with a deep breath, she forced herself to relax and forget. Or at least set it aside.

She ran a finger around the edge of her wine glass. Without knowing how deep his connection to the Katz family went, she needed to be diplomatic relating the meeting she’d had with Carol.

“Although I hadn’t met Kitty before, I met her mother earlier today.” She related the events of how she came to Flagstaff and the visit with the only relatives who could tie her to her birth mother.

“Truth is, I didn’t do much preparation, as far as family history, before I drove up. Since my parents, birth parents that is, died when I was quite young, I know very little about them. My main purpose was to find out if the sketches that belonged to my mother had any value—for my daughter. In my search, I’ve learned some things about my mother, Kaya, that are interesting. For one thing, I didn’t know the brother Carol and Kaya shared had piloted the plane that crashed, killing my parents. He died, too. I was the only survivor.”

She paused a beat to judge if she’d babbled on too long, but his eyes showed only interest in her tale.

“There’s a great deal of animosity in that family toward my grandfather and Kaya. I guess I can understand some of it toward my grandfather. Kaya may have carried the burden of their hate because of her father. And he favored her. But then, I don’t really know all the reasons without knowing her.” Carol had her reasons to carry a grudge against Kaya, and, unreasonably, hold that grudge against her. “I’ve decided I’d like to know my mother better.”

“That makes Kitty your cousin. Sort of.” He quirked a brow.

“I don’t see her claiming me, do you?”

“Small world, as they say.”

He ran a hand through his hair, and she figured his thoughts ran to how closely she had ties with his friend, Kitty, although he gave nothing away with his expression. She suppressed a smile. It was difficult to tell if this news made him uncomfortable, but the new twist amused her.

Laura returned with their dinners, and Lacy studied his face during the interruption. She’d have loved to ask him about his involvement with the voluptuous, pushy Kitty Katz. The woman clearly marked her territory for Lacy’s sake. The sheriff hadn’t seemed to recognize those boundaries. His dark streak didn’t tame so easy, she guessed.

“Certainly is a small world.” She couldn’t help renewing the line of discussion once Laura moved away.

“Getting smaller.” He took a sip of wine. “Laura, our waitress, is also your cousin.”

“How? Is she Kitty’s daughter?”

“No. Her jerk husband, Clark, is Kitty’s son.”

Her mouth fell open, and she shook her head. “That cute thing is married to Clark?”

“You’ve met him?” His glass stopped in route to his mouth.

“Yes, and I would never have guessed he’d be married to someone like Laura.”

“She’s cute, but,” he glanced in her direction and smiled, “she’s a little tiger, so I wouldn’t be too concerned. And I doubt that marriage will last.” He cocked his head. “How do you know Clark?”

“I think he tried to break into my car today. Or at least tampered with it, right in front of Carol’s house.”

“Can’t say that surprises me.”

“Really?”

“He’s had minor infractions of the law in the past.”

“What a fam—” She bit her lip. His relationship with Kitty didn’t come across as all that tight, but without knowing the extent of his involvement, she should keep her opinions to herself. “What I’ve found out is that my mother is somehow tied to a sculptor named Muuyaw whose work is highly coveted in this area. I’m beginning to think—”

“Muuyaw?” Chance’s fork stilled on his plate; his face lost some color.

“Yes, you know the artist?”

“I only know of her because of a case about eight years ago, when I was on the Flagstaff police force.” He pushed a piece of salmon around his plate.

“And?” An anxious ripple tightened her stomach at his discomfort.

“A couple of sculptures by an artist named Muuyaw were stolen.”

“Oh, yes, I heard about that today from Justine Watts.” Lacy leaned forward. “But no details. Were you involved with the case?”

He settled back in his chair, still pushing the same piece of salmon around his plate.

“Two women were shot.” He swallowed, his eyes squinted.

She stilled at the fierce glare directed in the air above her head.

“And one died.”

“Oh, my gosh. Did they catch the thief?”

Chance’s nostrils flared, and he glanced around as if avoiding her interest. He pitched forward and sat his fork down, wiped his mouth with his napkin. “He was killed in another incident.”

She didn’t know what to say. The incident had some personal meaning and more questioning on her part seemed intrusive. His forearms leaned heavily on the table, and he swirled his wine, his food forgotten. She ate a bite in silence, watching him stare into his wine. When the color came back to his face, he lifted his gaze to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. The urge to reach across the table and stroke his cheek moved her. “I’ve totally monopolized our dinner conversation. And probably bored you to death.”

“Hardly. I did ask.”

He studied her a moment, a squirm producing look.

“And I enjoy a good mystery.”

Chance Meadowlark the man might be a good mystery. Her mother’s arcane past consumed her, yet the man on the other side of the table had a mysterious side she couldn’t ignore. As much as she wanted to squash the growing attraction, something about him begged her attention.

And now this—an incident involving him and Muuyaw. Considering his initial reaction, questioning him seemed a daunting task. Still, she had to follow any connection she could find to her mother, intrusive or not.

Her cell rang. “Oh jeez, I meant to turn that off.” Her daughter’s number lit up the screen, giving her pause.

“Answer it if you need to.”

“Thanks. I wouldn’t, but it’s my daughter.” She’d never been able to ignore a call from either of her children. “Hi, August.”

“Hi, Mom. How are you?”

“Well, actually I’m at a restaurant eating. Can I call you back later?”

“Sure, but real quick—I Googled and tried Wikipedia. I can’t find much of anything on Muuyaw beyond a mention of a theft eight years ago.”

“Doesn’t really surprise me.” Lacy sighed. “It was worth a try.”

“Did you know about the theft? Maybe you could talk to the police about it. Find out what happened to the stolen art.”

“I’ve...talked to the police—well the sheriff.” She glanced at Chance, whose eyes smiled over his wine glass. “Maybe my visit to the museum tomorrow will produce more information. I’ll call you.”

“Great. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you back, kiddo.”

Lacy returned her attention to the dinner conversation and plunged ahead. “So, when the theft happened, do you remember Kaya’s name coming up?”

“No, not that I remember. How is she connected to the artist?”

She told him about the sketches, the half-carved wolf and the art gallery visit.

“If the sketches are Muuyaw’s...or the sculpture...be careful, Lacy. We never found out what happened to the stolen pieces. The case raised more questions than answers.”

“Well, as far as I know, they’re not my mother’s artwork. But there’s a connection. Maybe...” A collaboration? Then who was Muuyaw really? “If Muuyaw had another identity...” She waved a hand through the air. “I don’t know.” It was way too early to be guessing.

Chance dug a business card out of his pocket. “These are my numbers if you need anything.” He held it out over the table.

She took the card, her fingers grazing his. “I doubt I’ll have any trouble.” Though, maybe a little trouble would be worth needing to contact him.

“Always good to have an emergency number when you’re in a town and don’t know anyone.”

It would be easy to be taken in by his warm copper gaze, but she assumed his peacekeeper motives were at play, nothing more.

Laura appeared beside the table offering dessert and coffee. They both declined. She set the bill on the table. “Tell Jenny to call me, Sheriff, before she gets too wrapped up in finals.”

“I’ll do that, Laura.”

She smiled at Lacy. “And so nice to meet you...with the sheriff.” She winked at Chance and moved on to the next table.

He shook his head, embarrassed mirth in his eyes.

Lacy snorted. “That was subtle.” Laura must not care much for her mother-in-law.

She reached for the bill, but his hand had already grabbed the leather case. Her hand closed over his. “My treat, remember?” She barely got the words out, the contact stirring her more than she expected. Neither moved.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that. You’re a guest in my city, and a guest doesn’t pay.”

His skin against her palm and his serious—seriously sexy—face left her speechless.

“Finish your wine. I’ve got this one.” His voice, deep and low, rose above the restaurant chatter.

Or perhaps her shock rendered her numb to all noise and movement beyond their table.

He slid his hand from hers, slipped cash between the leather covers and lifted his wine glass.

With a shaky hand, she grasped her glass and finished the last of her merlot. Their eyes played some sort of cat and mouse game as they glanced at each other then away.

They rose, neither speaking until he took her sweater from the back of her chair. “You might want this. When the sun goes down, it’ll be cooler outside.”

His fingers touched her shoulders as she shrugged into the cardigan, sending chills along her arms, chills that had nothing to do with the air temperature. She stared into his unreadable face, looking for some indication he felt the same. His eyes avoided hers, and the spark she’d caught a glimpse of as they’d finished their wine vanished before she could be sure.

Chance opened the door of the Brie and waited for Lacy to glide past him. He set a meandering pace toward the Grand View in no hurry for the evening to end.

“Thank you once again, Chance.”

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’m glad for the company. And the food wasn’t too bad.” He wanted to touch her, put his hand to her skin that warmed the air between them and filled his senses with an exotic scent.

“It was fantastic.”

“On equal par with the valley?”

She laughed. “Every bit as good as.” She hugged herself against the chill. “And the scenery creates an ambience beyond comparison.”

The peaks rose above the buildings. The sky, crowded with stars and a bright moon, lit the tips of the mountains still boasting snow. Voices rang out, drifting beyond the lights of the patio on the restaurant across from the Brie. The town had transitioned from day to night while they’d eaten.

A train whistle sounded as they neared the track. “Oh, let’s wait for it.” She leaned into him briefly. “Watch it go by.”

“Sure. Are you a train fancier?”

“When I was young, maybe eight or nine, we took a train trip to Colorado. I’ve loved trains ever since. The whistle of a train is so...comforting.”

He couldn’t help but study her face as it lit up like a child’s when the engine neared. The train, running through the heart of Flagstaff, qualified as one of the best things he liked about the town.

They seemed to have quite a few things in common, including Hopi heritage and deceased spouses. She was so easy to be with. Her words and her eyes invited him to open up, took him to the brink more than once...mostly about Muuyaw and the robbery gone bad.

The last thing he wanted was to remember all the details of the Muuyaw theft.

After eight years, he’d finally come to some sort of compromise with himself that had numbed him; the only way he could deal with his actions and his loss. Now, after all this time, a beautiful, engaging woman breezed into town with a mystery about her past, a mystery that connected them and dredged up an event he’d tried to forget. Their chance meeting left him with something clawing at his insides.

The wind flew around the train, lifting her hair and swirling ebony around her face. The urge to pull her close grabbed him. Her waist begged hugging, her eyes invited and her lips promised pleasure. He wanted to hold her, help her in her quest to discover her roots. To protect her? She flirted and openly engaged him, but he doubted she meant too much by her actions. She didn’t need him or his protection. She, too, knew she’d soon be gone.

When the last car passed, she pushed strands from her eyes. “I think you like trains, too.”

“It’s part of Flagstaff. A good part.” They crossed over the tracks, walking toward the hotel. The night couldn’t end quite yet. “How about a cup of coffee in the Rendezvous before you call it a night?”

“All right. I’d like to get my bag out of the car trunk first and take it up to my room.”

“We can do that.”

As they stepped off the curb, she brushed against him. The contact might have been accidental, but his body responded all the same. When her hand had rested on his in the restaurant, the touch flowed through him like an aphrodisiac. Would she want an affair, an encounter in a town away from home, brief and pointless? He wanted her, for however brief.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t the same sky we have in Scottsdale.” She gestured toward the heavens. “Look at all those stars.”

“High, clear air.”

“Oh, please, don’t spoil it with science.”

“Ah...okay. It’s a known fact that the American Indians around this area draw more heavenly bodies overhead. It’s part magic and part romance.”

“Romance?” Her voice softened, and she looked at him.

“Indigenous people are quite romantic.” He suppressed a smile, keeping up the pretense of a serious lecture.

“I didn’t know that. And how much American Indian blood do you possess, Sheriff Meadowlark?” Her tone came across as come hither, even with the most benign words.

“Enough.”

“How much would be enough?”

He laughed. “Beautiful and witty.”

Her eyes widened at him. The streetlamp played on their startling, lime green color. “Why, Chance, I think your Hopi side is showing.”

“I’ll try to keep that in check.” He stopped at the back of her car.

“Please don’t.” She clicked the trunk release.

As she brushed by him, her hip grazed his leg and her breasts whispered along his side. He flinched, his hands imagining the softness if he dared to cup the roundness. She bent to lift her bag from the trunk, and the sight sent a hot streak of arousal bucking against his jeans.

He wanted to grab her, pull her into him, but instead said, “Let me have that.”

She faced him as the bag transferred from her hand to his. They stood toe to toe; his hand lingered on hers. His body came alive with sensations he’d nearly forgotten existed. His lips twitched into a smile he couldn’t contain. Lost in her eyes, sensing her face inching forward, he didn’t register his movement of closing the trunk.

With the loud thunk, she jumped and laughed. When she strolled ahead of him and opened the hotel door, she looked over her shoulder with a tease on her lips. “Coming?”

He wanted nothing more than to follow her.

“I’ll only be a moment.” At the foot of the stairs, she took the bag from him.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her hips as she negotiated the steps and disappeared around the corner. Would she have let him in her room if he’d followed?