NOAH FELT AS IF HE’D RECEIVED a blow to his chest that knocked the air from his lungs. But the shock didn’t last long. He stood by his instincts, but had to go by the book, anyway. “Okay,” he said slowly, “so we still need to be on the lookout for her.”
“Boss,” Roy said, the reluctance in his voice akin to someone admitting to the dentist he needed a tooth pulled. “You gotta consider she might already be here.”
Noah scrubbed his face, fully aware of what his deputy was getting at and how much he hated being the messenger. Did the whole friggin’ town already know Noah had a thing for Alana?
What was wrong with him? Of course they did. And of course people were going to gossip, no matter what. The fact was, he needed to finish this investigation. There wasn’t a choice involved.
He’d signed up for this. No matter that he knew better. He knew Alana. Her showing up was a coincidence. Not even that, because all kinds of women had been coming to stay at the Sundance. And the story about her stuff being stolen… There had been some thefts in the county....
He just had to figure out how she’d been robbed on Main Street with no one seeing a thing. It made no sense.
“Boss, you there?”
“Yeah.” Noah grabbed Dax by the collar. “I’m trying to get this mutt out the back door.” Buck naked, he half walked, half dragged the dog through the kitchen. “You talk to Gus or Danny yet?”
“Only Gus. So far none of the folks he’s interviewed remember a thing, and he hasn’t noticed any strange single women passing through. The Sundance guests show up in groups.”
“She might not be alone. The woman’s a con artist. We can’t discount the possibility that she sweet-talked her way into hooking up with another guy.” As he said that, alarm bells went off in Noah’s head and his stomach turned. Jesus, was he being a sucker? No, he knew better. “I’ll be in around eight. Hey, any chance the suspect they caught has a picture they can send us?”
“Sheriff Moran didn’t say, but I’ll give him a holler.”
Noah disconnected the call and wrestled Dax outside. The dog wanted to be fed, and he would be in a minute. Noah had something else to do first, something he wished he didn’t have to do.
Glancing at the clock, he quickly calculated the time in New York, then punched in the number for directory assistance. He paced to the hall while he waited, making sure Alana was still in the bedroom and couldn’t hear him, and hoping like hell she had a landline in her name. She’d mentioned she had a housekeeper. Even if the woman didn’t answer, hearing Alana’s voicemail greeting would do a lot to ease his mind.
He found a listing for Alana Richardson in Manhattan and waited while the operator connected him. After the fourth ring, he expected to be switched to voicemail.
A woman answered.
He cupped a hand over his mouth and the receiver, while darting a glance toward the hall. “Alana Richardson, please.”
“She’s not here,” the woman said. “This is her housekeeper. May I take a message for her?”
“Will Alana be back soon, or is she out of town?”
“Ms. Richardson will be away for the rest of the week,” the woman said pleasantly. “She’s in the Caribbean.”
Noah took another look down the hall, as if that would help. “Are you sure?”
In response to his unintentionally harsh tone, there was a long pause, and he knew he wouldn’t be getting any more information out of the woman. “May I ask who’s calling?” She didn’t sound friendly now.
“There’s no message. Thanks.” He disconnected the call and exhaled sharply, wondering what the hell that was about. There had to be a reasonable explanation, but it seemed as though Alana was determined to make his life as difficult as possible. Where the devil was her luggage?
His phone was set up to block his number and identity, not that he thought the housekeeper would be forthcoming with a Montana county sheriff. He toyed with the idea that Alana Richardson’s identity had been stolen, but that didn’t feel right, either. It was, however, possible.
Didn’t mean he believed it.
Last night at supper with his parents…the conversation on their ride home…the intimacy they’d shared in his bed…nope. It was a mess, for sure, and he’d have to keep his mind open even when it was uncomfortable. But he was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of things. He’d been a damn good cop in Chicago, on a fast track to making detective, and he was a damn good sheriff. His gut had never let him down.
He listened for sounds from the bedroom. He couldn’t hear anything—for all he knew she’d once more fallen asleep. But he didn’t have to see or hear a thing. The knowledge that she was in his bed, naked, was enough to mess with his ability to think. What he needed to do was to get out of the house. Go to the office. Make sure his head was clear before he did anything else. He still had to talk to his other deputy, and the possibility that the suspect had avoided Blackfoot Falls was very real.
Coffee was tempting, but he decided he’d wait and get a cup at the office. No way around returning to the bedroom for his clothes before he jumped into the shower. Maybe he’d be lucky and she’d have gone back to sleep. Then he could leave her a note, because he just wasn’t up to putting on his poker face.
He filled Dax’s food bowl and left it outside the door. Before making the trip down the hall, he called Roy back. “I need you to do something for me,” he told the deputy. “I’ll be leaving here in about twenty minutes, but I want someone sitting on the house as soon as I leave.”
After a telling silence, Roy said, “Huh?”
Noah had to smile. “You,” he said, deciding not to bring in the other deputies on this one. “I want you to sit at the corner, not in a marked vehicle, but in your own truck, and watch the house. If Alana leaves, I want you to follow her.”
“You mean tail her,” he said excitedly.
“Yep, Roy, that’s what I mean. Don’t let her see you. Can you do that?”
“Sure, boss.”
“And can you keep your mouth shut about this?”
“Who am I gonna tell?”
Noah let out an incredulous laugh.
Roy sniffed, making sure Noah knew he was offended. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“Not even Gus or Danny for now.”
Roy hesitated, but didn’t question the order. The deputy loved to think he was Noah’s right-hand man, and that inclination toward self-importance was what Noah was counting on to keep this quiet. “You got it. Where are you gonna be?”
“Working. Call my cell if there’s anything to report. We clear?”
“Yep. I’ll go bring my truck around. Wait…what if she tries to leave town?”
Noah winced at the thought. He plowed a hand through his hair and shook his head. “You call me. Then you stop her.”
“Stop her. Right.” Roy’s voice cracked, and then he disconnected.
Noah went to get ready for work, certain his deputy was going to have a pretty boring day, undercover.
* * *
THE BRIGHT SUN WAS TRYING TO seep through the blinds. Noah’s side of the bed was cold, and Alana knew he’d left. She wasn’t sure how she knew, she just did. Still groggy, she squinted at the alarm clock. Seeing the red digital numbers spurred her awake. She’d never slept until ten-thirty in her life. Maybe when she was a kid, but she doubted Eleanor would have allowed such a thing even then.
Well, now Alana knew for sure Noah was gone. He would’ve let her sleep while he went to work, and she’d be surprised if he hadn’t left her a note. Anxious to see what he’d written, she slipped out of bed, then checked the top of the dresser before pulling on a T-shirt and padding down the hall. She made a quick bathroom stop, the linoleum floor cold beneath her bare feet. Shuddering at her terrifying reflection in the mirror, she turned away and thought about collecting her stupid high heels from her room, because the kitchen floor would be equally cold. But she was too giddy over looking for his note. God, she’d never been this ridiculous, even in high school.
The piece of paper was on the kitchen counter next to the coffeepot. It said he’d gone to work. He’d left his cell number if she needed him, and had signed it simply “Noah.” Alana stared at the impersonal lines and wondered why that should hurt her. What had she expected? Or more to the point, had the right to expect? They had talked this morning, after all. And he was coming home early so they could go to the Sundance. Quite a concession for him, she suspected.
She studied the carefully printed phone number, tempted to call just to get a fix on his tone of voice. Reason won out and she set the note aside. She was being silly. He’d probably been late leaving for work, and she was lucky to have gotten a note at all. It was just that last night had been incredible, like nothing she’d ever experienced. Never had she let herself be swept away as she had with Noah.
Normally, she liked being in control, in every aspect of her life. It gave her comfort and security. But last night, God, all she’d ever known or thought she knew about herself be damned. Noah could’ve led her off the Brooklyn Bridge and she would have followed with bated breath. Right now she should be scared to death that she could be so weak. Instead, she watched the clock and calculated how many hours it would be before she’d see him again.
Oh, what the hell, this was her vacation—and a much better one than a stay at the dude ranch. Alana was allowed to be silly and fanciful. Five minutes back in her office and this would all go away. In a month, she’d barely remember Noah’s name. Except damn, the man could kiss. Not to mention his other talents.
Shaking her head, she checked the coffeepot, smiling when she saw that he’d already measured out grounds and left water in the unit, ready for her to hit the on button. After getting it started, she heard Dax scratching at the door, and let him in. With big moon eyes, he gazed at the treat jar.
Alana laughed. “One. That’s all you’re getting.” She fished out a Milk-Bone, waited until he sat, and then held out the treat.
After he took it and scampered off, she got out a mug. Drumming her fingers on the counter, she watched the coffee drip into the carafe. It was going to take forever. She should probably shower while she waited. Although she was in no hurry, because except for a trip to the bank she didn’t have a single thing to do today. Maybe after the Watering Hole opened she’d go check on Sadie. In the meantime, she could finish the book she’d started on Saturday.
Her eyes were drawn inexorably to the phone. She really, really wanted to call Noah. Not just to hear his voice, not at all. She had a perfectly good reason. If she knew when he planned on coming home, she could be ready. Maybe she could even have dinner waiting before they went to the Sundance. Snorting, she tapped the back of her head against an upper cabinet. Her, cook? That could end a perfectly terrific vacation fling very quickly.
Although she had made a passable quiche once in college…knowing Noah, if it didn’t turn out, he’d appreciate the gesture. Alana opened the refrigerator and found he already had some of the ingredients. She’d have to pick up the rest; maybe she could do that on her way back from the bank this morning. She wished Noah could go with her, because she doubted the local bank had handled many wire transfers, and she’d probably have to wait for her money.
Her mind made up, she quickly showered and dressed, downed her coffee and debated borrowing the twenty-odd dollars Noah had left on his dresser. She still had a twenty from her pool winnings, but if the bank wouldn’t release her funds right away she wanted to make sure she had enough to buy the things she needed. Deciding she should purchase extra ingredients in case the first quiche didn’t turn out, she grabbed the money off his dresser, then headed to town.
* * *
NOAH CROUCHED DOWN CLOSE TO where the wire had been cut from Cy Heber’s fence and inspected the faint tread marks in the hard dirt. No cattle were missing, because Cy had heard something early that morning and come running out with his shotgun. But the old man was right—someone had been up to no good out here. No telling what might’ve happened if Cy hadn’t been battling insomnia.
“You hired any help lately?” Noah asked, standing.
“Nope. Can’t afford it. You want coffee? Shirley just made a fresh pot.”
“Yeah, I’ll take a cup. Thanks.” Noah watched the stooped older man turn and limp toward the small clapboard ranch house. “And leave the rifle inside.”
Cy didn’t turn around, but raised a hand as he kept walking, acknowledging he’d heard.
The guy had been making Noah nervous, waving that Winchester around. Not that he blamed the old-timer for being guarded. He and Shirley were pretty isolated this far east of Blackfoot Falls. That was part of what made this alleged robbery attempt so puzzling. Someone had to be real familiar with the area to know the Hebers were out here. And hell, they didn’t even have that much stock.
Noah’s cell rang, and before he answered, he saw that it was Roy.
“I’m sorry, boss. I lost her.”
“What do you mean, you lost her?”
“I did just like you told me. I sat in my truck, watched her come out of your house and walk to the bank. I kept waiting and waiting, and when she didn’t come out, I went inside. Real calm like, as if I was doing personal business and—”
“Roy.” Noah’s patience slipped. “The bottom line.”
“Herman told me she asked him to call her bank in New York City. The fella on the other end knew who she was right away, and they’re sending her money. A lot of money.”
That was good news. Noah relaxed a little.
“After that, she left, didn’t say where she was going. I swear I was watching the door the whole time. I didn’t look down once at my new Sports Illustrated.”
Jesus. “Go check the Watering Hole. She might be with Sadie. Call me back.” He started to slip the cell into his pocket, but for the hell of it, called his home phone. No answer. He hadn’t expected her to be there, but he was relieved that she’d had no problem at the bank. The housekeeper thing still bothered him, though....
Cy returned with a mug of coffee for each of them, and Noah tried his best to keep his focus on their conversation. But his thoughts kept drifting back to Alana and Roy, and why there’d been no call assuring him she had gone to the Watering Hole. When Cy asked him to help mend the cut fence, Noah agreed. His job, including fence mending, came first.
* * *
A READY-MADE PIE CRUST would’ve solved so much of Alana’s problem. However, she’d learned that the Food Mart had never carried such an item, and the manager couldn’t imagine why they ever would. After all, a pie crust was one of the easiest things in the world to whip together.
Yeah, and Alana really loved being patronized by a smiling, pimply-faced twenty-year-old who’d probably majored in Home Economics, if the schools still had such a horrifying option as part of their curriculum.
Sighing, Alana used the back of her wrist to wipe the flour off her nose. It wasn’t the poor woman’s fault she still had acne problems, and Alana felt duly ashamed for the mean thought. But that wasn’t going to help her pathetic quiche. She doubted starting over for the third time would do any good, either.
Crap, she was just too much of a perfectionist, she decided, tilting her head and eyeing the lopsided baked crust. So what if it was uneven. Most of it would be hidden by the filling, and who the hell had thought up fluted edges, anyway?
Her decision made, she poured the egg, spinach and mushroom mixture into the crust. The oven was already heated, so she opened the door and slid in the quiche. She heard Dax bark at the back door and felt badly for making him go outside on such a chilly day, but he’d kept getting underfoot.
She set the timer, then grabbed a treat from the jar and headed out to join him. Even though she still hadn’t forgiven the mutt for turning his nose up at the proffered piece of crust from her first attempt.
It was the middle of the afternoon, the air crisp and the sky a beautiful clear blue. The mountaintops in the distance were already capped in white, and she tried to imagine what the place would look like covered with a pristine blanket of fresh snow instead of the slushy gray stuff she was used to in New York. Oh, the snow always looked pretty when it first came down on Manhattan, but it didn’t take long for the plows and taxis to push everything into depressing heaps against the curbs.
Dax left her sitting at the picnic table and ran to the kitchen door, barking. Was someone knocking? She hadn’t heard a car. Could be Noah, though she hadn’t expected him this early. Her pulse quickening, she sprang to her feet. God, she was going to have to break down and buy some sensible shoes. Or maybe even a pair of Western boots. She would never wear them again, but had to have something besides these unsuitable heels. She’d started losing hope her luggage would ever be recovered.
Blocking Dax’s entrance, she slowly opened the door. A creepy feeling slithered up her spine. The house seemed eerily quiet, and reconsidering, she let the dog in ahead of her. He took off into the living room, and the barking stopped.
“Noah?”
No answer.
She entered the living room, craning her neck to see if his truck was parked in front.
“Alana.” Noah appeared from the hall, and she nearly jumped out of her jeans. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” she confirmed, laughing nervously, her hand at her throat. “Where else would I be?”
“I heard you went to the bank. If they wired your money, then you’d be free to skip town.”
“What?” She laughed. “Why would I do that?”
He seemed to relax, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “What does a woman like you want with a small-town sheriff like me?” He smiled, but there was still something troubling about the way he looked at her…and that he hadn’t kissed her yet.
She thought about the note he’d left her, how it hadn’t even sounded like him. Did he really think she would ditch him the minute the money came through?
“What’s got into you?” she asked uneasily. He was too confident a man to be that insecure. More importantly, she’d believed last night had meant something to both of them.... A thought struck her. He’d just come from his room. Probably noticed the money was missing from his dresser.
“For God’s sake, I’m going to pay you back. The bank will be releasing my funds later this afternoon or first thing tomorrow morning. I needed something from the grocery—” To her horror, her voice cracked. Emotion swelled in her throat. She didn’t have to take this crap. “Forget it. Okay? Just forget it. The minute my funds clear, I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Alana.” His arm shot out to stop her when she tried to make it past him, but she jerked out of his reach.
If she could just get to her room, lock the door, not come out until the bank called. Or better yet, crawl out the window so she didn’t have to see him. He knew she’d gotten choked up, and that pissed her off.
“Would you please wait?” He caught her from behind, pulling her back against his chest.
She tried to pry his arm away, but it was like a steel band around her waist, trapping her body snugly to his. “Let go of me.”
“We need to talk.”
“I’ll scream.”
“No, you won’t.” His lips brushed the side of her neck, his moist breath tickling her ear.
“I will,” she said, and would’ve sounded so much more convincing if she’d been able to breathe. She could blame the tightness of his arm under her breasts, but that would be a lie. He’d loosened his hold, and she was staying pressed against his chest of her own volition.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. She should’ve torn his head off for using the term, but coming from him she actually liked it.
“I’ve just had one hell of a day. I don’t have any problem with you borrowing—” His abrupt retreat left her reeling. “Something’s burning.”
* * *
“BURNING?” SHE SPUN AROUND to look at him, her brow furrowed. Then her eyes widened. “Oh, God.” She pushed past him and ran to the kitchen.
He followed, watched her pick up a dish towel and open the oven. Smoke drifted out, but not enough to make him grab the fire extinguisher. The acrid smell seemed to be the worst of it. She coughed and backed away, waving furiously at the smoky air.
“You okay?” He drew her toward him, turned off the oven and used the toe of his boot to shut the door.
“It’s not the quiche. I mean, it is, but not the one baking now, because it hasn’t been in long enough.” Her shoulders slumped. “I think the smoke is from a spill from my first attempt.” She sighed. “But now our dinner isn’t finished and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ll have to wait for the oven to cool in order to clean it.”
“Quiche?” He’d tried it once. That was enough.
She studied his face. “I knew I was taking a chance that you wouldn’t like it, but that’s all I know how to make.”
He tried to control a smile. Obviously she wasn’t an ace at quiche, either. Fine with him. “We’re going to remove the pan, let the oven cool, then go from there.”
“All right.” She picked up the dish towel again and inhaled deeply, as if bracing herself for the ordeal of opening the oven once more.
“Here.” He took the towel from her and did the honors. Then frowned at the sunken blob in the pan he put on the stove. He thought he knew what quiche was, but this wasn’t what he remembered.
“What happened?” Alana was staring at it, too.
“Beats me.”
“I think I put in too much cream the second time. Or did I forget the eggs?” She bent to peek into the oven, then abruptly straightened with a look of dread on her face. “I’ll have money soon. Anyone you think will do it…I’ll pay them a hundred dollars to clean that oven.”
Noah chuckled. “It’s a newer model, so it’s got a self-cleaning feature.”
She flushed. “I’m really a very capable advertising executive. I am, I swear. Some ads you see on TV—the man in the polo shirt on a horse, the razors and shirtless guys? That’s me. I thought of those.” She made a little sound of exasperation and looked so miserable that he sucked up a laugh. “This kind of stuff…” She spread a hand. “I’m not so good.”
He discreetly wiped the smudge of flour dusting her jaw by finger-combing her hair back from her face. Her cheeks were warm, still flushed, her eyes a soft chocolate-brown. She looked beautiful. “I came home to sweep you off your feet and make mad passionate love to you, but now I don’t know....” He shook his head. “A woman who doesn’t know how to make quiche? I’m thinking, deal breaker.”
She gave him a wry smile. “That’s not why you came home.”
“You doubt me, woman?”
Her warning glare didn’t quite come off. “Oh.” She put her hands on his shoulders, and he placed his at her waist. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you call me sweetheart.”
“Ah, right, sorry. Won’t let it happen again.” He winked. “At least I’ll try not to.”
Smiling, she slipped her arms around his neck and sniffed. “You smell like smoke.”
“You’re not smelling like a rose yourself.”
Her grin widened. “We could take a shower together.”
Dammit, he still had to go to the office, and though he said nothing, he could see by the disappointment that flickered in her eyes that she knew he couldn’t stay.
“It’s okay,” she said gamely, “I understand. You’re still working.”
“I have to write a report.” Sliding his arms around her, he lifted her off the floor and kissed her soft lips. They eagerly parted for him, and he knew he was in trouble.
Only twenty minutes ago he’d walked into the house, tired and cranky and full of doubt. He’d expected that she’d left town right under his deputy’s nose, but not because she was a con artist.
A few minutes under her spell and he was back to appreciating how lucky he was to have found Alana, even if it was just for a little while.