Match Made In Paradise

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Of?”

  “The dress.” She sounded half annoyed, half perplexed.

  “It’s great,” he said honestly, sneaking a sideways peek. “Terrific.”

  “Not too bad for a rush job, huh?” She adjusted the drop sleeves below her shoulders. “I’m lucky the shoes fit. My feet are big.”

  He tried to stop himself, but his gaze dropped to the uber-sexy shoes. Her feet couldn’t have looked more perfect to him.

  “The price of being tall,” she said.

  “You’re not that tall.” Even with her high shoes, he had several inches on her.

  “I guess not for a model. But taller than average, bigger feet than average. It can be a problem.”

  As they stepped onto the porch, he reflexively offered his arm. The wood walkway was slightly uneven, and he’d feel like an absolute jerk if she stumbled.

  She took it, and he couldn’t stop the swell of pride that came up in his chest. Sure, he knew this wasn’t a real date. But the people in the restaurant wouldn’t know that. They’d get a load of Mia and think Silas was the luckiest man alive.

  It was a three-minute winding walk along the trees and above the shoreline to the main lodge. There, they had to navigate the staircase, and Mia kept her hand on his arm as Piper showed them into the dining room.

  Silas liked the way people looked at them—well, looked at Mia to be more precise, with admiration and longing.

  Piper sat them at a table along the back wall. Their window looked out over the bay, the rocky shore and the forest in the background.

  “This is nice,” Mia said as she sat gracefully down on the padded, wraparound chair.

  The white tablecloth, flickering candle, bone china and blown crystal were Wildflower’s standard. The atmosphere was hushed beneath the beamed ceilings.

  “They know how to do it right,” Silas said with a smile. It wasn’t his usual speed, but he could go high-end for a dinner occasionally, especially one with Mia.

  “You come here often?” she asked, then smiled self-consciously at the phrasing.

  “I don’t often sit in the dining room or stay overnight, for that matter. There’s lounge down the hall that’s more casual, and the deck is nice when there’s a breeze. It’s too still out there tonight. The mosquitoes would be terrible.”

  “I’m all for staying out of the bugs,” she said.

  A waiter arrived offering drinks, but they decided on a bottle of wine instead. Silas asked Mia if she wanted to choose, and she stepped right up.

  “Alastair was big into wine,” Mia said as the waiter departed with their order. “We have a very large wine cellar back home.”

  “So, you’re an expert?”

  She gave a shake of her head and a pretty smile. “He was the expert. I mostly went along for the ride. But I recognize the label of the one I ordered. It’s good.”

  “I wasn’t worried.”

  “You drink much wine?”

  “Beer in the fridge at the hangar. After flights only, of course. The guys like to hang out, compare notes, tell stories.”

  “Exciting stories?”

  “Sometimes exciting, more often funny. Clients can be wacky, passengers amusing.”

  “Like the women who don’t know enough to use the restroom before they get on the plane.”

  “I kept that to myself.” Although he suspected the drillers would have shared their amusement at the mine.

  “I didn’t,” Mia said.

  Silas raised his brow, surprised she would tell a story where she looked foolish.

  “I told Raven.”

  “Ah.” That made sense.

  “I also told her—” Mia pressed her lips together as if she was trying to keep herself from speaking up.

  “What?” he prompted.

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh no. That’s not going to happen.”

  “It’s embarrassing.”

  “I just spilled almonds all over the floor because—”

  She pressed her lips tight together in a squelched grin. And he eyes lit up in a way that said she had him. “Because . . . ?”

  “You first.”

  “No, you.”

  He leaned forward. “You.”

  “Okay, fine. I thought you were a serial killer.”

  He was baffled by the answer. “Because I sent you back to the restroom?”

  She shook her head, her cheeks turning pink as she squelched another smile. “When you took me to Raven’s cabin. That’s why I tried to drive away.”

  Silas’s chest hitched in regret. “You were frightened?”

  “Not for long.”

  He reached out to cover her hand, wondering what he could have done to make her feel that way. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  “Don’t be. It’s funny now. It was funny right after too. At least to Raven.”

  “Got a minute, Silas?” Cornelia’s adult son, Danny, appeared at their table.

  Silas sent him a back-off look. The very last thing he wanted to do was leave Mia.

  “We’ve got some cargo for your return trip,” Danny said.

  “Go ahead,” Mia said to Silas, retrieving her hand. She didn’t look at all annoyed by the interruption.

  He was annoyed. Any moment away from Mia was a moment wasted.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but then he reminded himself that he was here on WSA business, and he’d given a pledge to Brodie to stay professional. It also occurred to him that Mia was probably used to business dinners. Given Alastair’s position, interruptions must have happened to her all the time in LA.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” he said as he rose, determined to make that true.

  As he crossed with Danny to the end of the bar, he caught the many surreptitious looks being sent Mia’s way, from women as well as men.

  She was a knockout; there was no getting around that. He figured it was a classic case of all men wanting to date her and all women wanting to be her. Silas knew her life as an extraordinarily beautiful woman wasn’t a living fantasy, but he could see it might look that way from the outside.

  He took a barstool next to Danny. “What’s up?”

  “One of the XM6700 generators just quit on us. We can likely get warranty, but we have to ship it out. Can you fit it?”

  Silas whistled under his breath, picturing the industrial generators that powered the lodge. “That’ll be a squeeze into the beaver.”

  Danny nodded to that. “The rep said we can pull off the air intake and muffler ourselves without compromising the warranty coverage, if that’ll help.”

  Silas cast his gaze over to Mia and saw she was in conversation with Piper, and the two were laughing. “Did you take some measurements?”

  “We can.”

  “I’ll need the weight too.” Silas was most worried about the size. The beaver could handle a significant amount of weight, even considering the short Wildflower airstrip. But fitting the core of the industrial generator through the cargo door was going to be a challenge.

  A woman’s voice came up shrill behind them. “—and is not the level of responsiveness I expect from an establishment of this caliber.”

  Silas turned his head to see the older woman was talking to Cornelia—well, at Cornelia, while Cornelia looked to be sympathizing with the difficult customer. He wondered if maybe they’d changed chefs.

  “We’ll measure it up,” Danny said.

  “Send them to my phone,” he said. “I’ll let you know if it’s going to work.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Did you by any chance change chefs?”

  Danny looked puzzled. “No.”

  “Good. I was going to recommend the cherry duck breast.” Silas was looking forward to Mia experiencing the fine cuisine at Wildflower La
ke Lodge. He didn’t care where else in the world she’d eaten, he’d bet she’d be impressed with this.

  Danny grinned. “Still our feature dish.”

  “Great.” Silas got to his feet.

  But when he looked to their table, Mia was gone. He did a sweep of the dining room, wondering if she’d struck up a conversation with another diner. She hadn’t.

  He wandered back to the table, sat down and waited a minute, getting an odd feeling.

  He scanned for Cornelia then, hoping she might know where Mia had gone, but Cornelia wasn’t in the dining room either. He went to check in the lobby.

  A woman emerged from the ladies’ room, and Silas asked her if Mia was inside. But the woman said it was empty.

  Baffled, Silas went outside to the porch. It was deserted, only a single propane torch flickering, warming the closest table. He could see partway up the boardwalk leading to their villa, but he didn’t see Mia walking along it. He really hoped she hadn’t headed back to the villa on her own. He was still worried about her tripping in her high shoes.

  He took another pass through the restaurant before deciding to try the villa. Maybe she’d felt ill. He hoped not. He didn’t want her evening to be ruined.

  He picked up his pace along the walkway, turning into their villa and crossing the front porch to open the door.

  “Mia?” He stopped short two steps inside.

  She was there, on the sofa, shoes kicked off, her face flushed and her eyes shiny with tears.

  He went to her, crouching down, disturbed by the dampness on her pink cheeks. “What happened?”

  She shook her head, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “Nothing.”

  “Are you hurt?” He looked her up and down. “Sick?”

  She shook her head again.

  “Why did you leave? What’s wrong?”

  She gave herself a shake and sat up straighter. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.” That was completely obvious.

  Her eyes lost focus for a second. “I will not let it get to me.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was talking to him or to herself. “Let what get to you?”

  “Nothing.” She propped her hands on her knees, and he realized how close he was to touching her bare legs.

  He eased back a little and ordered himself not to check them out. He didn’t want to pry, so he didn’t ask any more questions.

  “You must be hungry,” she finally said.

  Yes, he was hungry. He stood and held his hand out to her, glad she seemed calmer now. “Let’s go eat.”

  But Mia shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Sure, you can. It’ll help you’ll feel better.”

  She lifted her lashes to look at him. “Cornelia had to ask me to leave.”

  Silas didn’t react because her words were preposterous.

  Mia continued. “She was super nice about it, and I could tell she didn’t want to do it. But—”

  “Whoa, what?”

  “Someone complained. I understand. They were a paying customer, and they’re entitled to their opinion.” Mia reached for a tissue, dabbed her nose, then crumpled it into her hand. “But I wasn’t ready for it—mentally, I mean. I thought I could get away from it all here, you know?” Those vulnerable blue eyes of hers seemed to pierce his soul.

  “It was that woman, the one at the other table,” he guessed, things starting to come together in his head. He sat down on the sofa next to Mia. “That old bat recognized you.”

  “She’d heard all the stories, so she thought she knew me. Clearly she believed the part about me dancing on Alastair’s grave.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “She was wearing a Lafayette dress, of all things. You probably didn’t notice. It was from last year’s spring collection. I sourced that print myself from Italy. She was wearing an out-of-date style and looking down her nose at me while she did.”

  “We’re going back,” he said with conviction. There was no way he was letting some judgmental old woman run Mia out of the restaurant.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You need to eat.”

  Mia’s expression turned stubborn while someone interrupted with a knock at the door.

  “We’re going back,” Silas repeated.

  “I don’t want to.”

  He wasn’t sure how to argue that, and the knock sounded again. He got up to answer.

  It was a waiter from the dining room with a room service cart full of dishes.

  “Cornelia asked me to convey her most sincere apologies,” the man said, gesturing to a vase of flowers in the middle of covered table settings. “There’s a card for the lady. She thought you’d enjoy the cherry duck breast, but if you’d prefer something else, the chef will prepare it right away.”

  It took Silas a moment to react. It was polite of Cornelia to apologize. And, yes, the duck was fine. But it couldn’t simply end there. Mia had been bullied and insulted, and he wasn’t about to stand for that.

  “The duck sounds perfect,” Mia said, appearing at Silas’s side. “Please thank Cornelia for me.”

  “No,” Silas barked out.

  The waiter looked confused. “You’d prefer something else?”

  “What we’d prefer—”

  Mia touched his arm, effectively shutting him up. “This is all fine,” she said.

  The waiter gave her a smile. “Cornelia included another bottle of the wine you ordered. There’s a corkscrew in your kitchen utensils, but I can open the bottle if you’d prefer.”

  “We don’t have to eat here,” Silas said to Mia.

  “Here is better.” She looked directly at him. “I’d rather it was here.”

  He realized then that she’d probably be uncomfortable going back, especially if the judgmental customer was still there. Who knew how many others in the restaurant recognized Mia?

  “I’ll open the bottle myself,” he said to the waiter.

  The waiter gave a nod of acknowledgment. “The chef included a baked brie appetizer, the melon prosciutto salad, and a selection of French pastries. Coffee is in the carafe, with brandy on the shelf below. Shall I set it up for you?” He looked past them to the dining area.

  “We’ve got it,” Silas said. He reached into his pocket for a bill and handed it to the man.

  The waiter accepted the tip and wheeled the tray inside the doorway. “Please call down if you need anything else.” With a final smile to Mia, the waiter withdrew.

  Silas stared at the meal for a minute, not sure if Mia would rather talk it out some more or just move on.

  “It smells really delicious,” she said, and he decided to follow her lead.

  * * *

  * * *

  Mia didn’t like to fixate on her trials and tribulations. They were what they were, and she was mostly a lucky person.

  But Silas kept probing, and for the first time in forever she actually wanted to expand on her problems. It might have been the wine, or it might have been the brandy, or it might have been something about Silas himself. It was hard to know for sure.

  “Gold-diggers are a dime a dozen,” he was saying. “I mean, that’s not a perfect metaphor . . . but you know what I mean.”

  From across the villa’s round dining table, she couldn’t help but smile as he fumbled his way through consoling her. She rephrased for him. “You’re asking why that woman resented me in particular.”

  “In a nutshell, yes. It’s not a crime to marry for money. Not that I’m saying you married for money. I don’t think that at all.”

  Mia chose a mini cream strawberry tart from the oblong silver plate that was set beside the wildflower bouquet. The meal had helped soothe her emotions.

  “I’d guess it’s because I’ve been more thoroughly vilified than y
our average gold-digger,” she answered.

  “Vilified how?”

  “They’ve called me everything from trophy wife to jezebel and a murderer.”

  “Murderer?”

  She responded in a mocking tone. “You don’t think a fifty-year-old man spontaneously died on his own, do you?”

  “You said he had a heart condition.”

  “A likely story.” She took a bite of the tart. It was as delicious as everything else had been. The pastry was flaky and the vanilla cream sweet and smooth.

  Silas considered for a moment. “Wouldn’t there be records?”

  She set the rest of the tart on her side plate. “I’m not about to release Alastair’s medical records.”

  “I meant police records. If there was a murder investigation, there’d have to be a police record.”

  “Unless I was clever enough to get away scot-free.”

  “With murder? That’s a stretch.”

  “You’d be amazed how many people believe I did. You’d be even more amazed by how many threaten revenge.”

  His gaze narrowed on that. “Revenge?”

  “Some want me impoverished. Some want me jailed.” She crumbled an edge of the pastry with her index finger. “Some want me killed. And some have suggested very colorful ways they would do it themselves.” She caught Silas’s expression and immediately regretted her words. She hadn’t intended to be so graphic.

  “That’s why you’re in Alaska.” His tone had hardened. “You had death threats.”

  She was in the thick of it now and decided there was no point in holding back. “It was either hire round-the-clock security or get out of town. And there were these protesters at the end of our driveway. A tenacious group of about twenty of them with signs and cameras; reporters too.” She shuddered, remembering. “You’d think people would have lives.”

  Silas reached across the table to hold her hand again. Crumbs clung to her fingertip, but he didn’t seem to notice. Then, without letting go, he rose and moved around to her.

  It was just a touch, she told herself, no more than a handshake, really. Yes, he was searching her eyes. But that was only a look.

  “I can’t believe they’d be so . . .” His tone was somber now, preoccupied. “What is wrong with people?”