She and Ranger took the stone steps to the back door. She kicked off her boots in the tiled mudroom, grabbed a rag from a peg and wiped off his wet, muddy paws, then went through the cozy kitchen into the adjoining living room.
Nick was stretched out on the couch with his ankles crossed. He hadn’t taken off his boots.
“Locks, Rose,” he said, sitting up. “Locks.”
Ranger seemed unoffended by Nick’s presence and collapsed on his bed by the woodstove, a brisk fire burning behind the glass doors. Rose stayed on her feet. “I have locks.”
“Doesn’t matter if you don’t use them.”
“How much difference do you think locked doors would make if someone wanted to get in here?” She gestured out at her view of the mountains, shades of white, blue and gray in the afternoon sun. “I have no neighbors. There’s no one else close enough to hear someone break a window.”
He rolled up onto his feet, his dark gray sweater—probably cashmere—falling neatly over his flat abdomen. “You’re obviously not afraid living up here by yourself.”
“Why should I be afraid? If you want to check the cellar and closets for intruders, go right ahead.”
“Maybe I already have.” He pointed to her small flat-screen television. “No cable?”
“I have DVDs, and I love to read.”
“I’ve been through your DVDs. You have the entire collection of the new BBC Jane Austen videos and all four Die Hard movies. You do mystify, Rose Cameron.”
She smiled. “Good.”
He glanced out at the mountains. “Nightfall comes early up here in the winter. Do you have an extra bedroom or do I get the couch?”
“You get to go back to the lodge.”
His eyes skimmed over her, as if he were gauging just what tone he should take with her. “Then you’re staying at the lodge tonight, too?”
“I didn’t say that—”
“I’ll sleep in my car at the bottom of your driveway if I have to, Rose. You found a dead man this morning. Either he wanted you to find him or someone else did.”
“Or his death was a terrible accident.” She spun over to her woodbox and saw that he’d refilled it. “Or you were meant to find him. Have you considered that, Nick? I hadn’t run into so much as a dead chipmunk at the Whittaker place. Then you show up in town, and look what happens.”
“Then maybe I should stay here so you and Ranger can protect me.”
“Give it up.”
She felt as if she were talking to a sexy stranger, not a man she’d slept with.
Nick walked over to the front windows. “Sean mentioned that he, A.J. and Elijah read you the riot act about spending so much time alone.”
“I’ve traveled a lot this past year with my work, but I haven’t gone anywhere this winter.”
She knew she’d taken on more than she’d needed to—that she’d been running away from her past with Derek Cutshaw, her grief over her father’s death, even the scare over nearly losing her brother Elijah in combat. Since Lowell Whittaker’s arrest in January, she’d made a conscious effort to refocus on her work with the lodge and reconnect with her hometown and even her family.
Nick continued to stare out at the mountains. “Tell me about you and Derek Cutshaw.”
His question caught her off guard. She felt her entire body stiffen and shook her head. “This isn’t happening.”
He glanced back at her and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll get one of your brothers to ask you.”
“You’re missing an important point here, Nick. My brothers and I may fight among ourselves, but we’re loyal to each other. You’re the outsider.”
“Cutshaw was, too.”
“You can go now,” she said coolly. “Ranger and I are fine here on our own.”
Nick walked over to Ranger and crouched down to pet him. “I had a golden retriever as a kid. Nothing cuter as puppies. How old was Ranger when you got him?”
“Twelve weeks.”
“Here locally?”
“Woodstock. From friends. They’d already named him Ranger, which has earned me some ribbing in the search-and-rescue world since it’s almost a cliché.”
“Did you know he’d be a search-and-rescue dog?”
“That was the plan.”
As Nick stood up, Rose noticed he moved smoothly, with no hint of fatigue or stiffness, and reminded herself that he was held to a high standard of fitness as a smoke jumper.
Not a man to underestimate.
“I’m not distracted, Nick,” she said, as much for herself as for him. “You can afford to buy half of Black Falls, so you can afford another night at the lodge.”
“Fair enough.” His eyes, even darker in the afternoon shadows, lingered on her for a few seconds longer than she found comfortable. “I’ll go if you agree to have dinner with me at the lodge. You can come early. Really early.”
“That’s blackmail. You’ll go even if I don’t have dinner with you.”
He reached for his jacket on the couch. “Get some rest, clean up and meet me there. If you don’t show up,” he said, heading for the front door, “I’ll come find you.”
“We’re not talking about anything serious over dinner.”
“Sounds good.”
She sighed. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re completely relentless?”
He winked at her. “All the time.”
Only after he’d left did Rose acknowledge that she wouldn’t be spending the evening alone, wrapped up in an afghan, watching Jane Austen DVDs. She’d meant to keep her distance from Nick, but he’d just let himself into her house, lit a fire in her woodstove and invited her to dinner.
And she’d caved, completely.
Nick Martini was a mission-oriented man. He liked to get what he wanted. In this case, he wanted her not to be up on her hill by herself for any length of time. She didn’t know if he were concerned for her safety or her emotional state after this morning’s tragedy, or if he just wanted to pry information out of her.
Maybe all of the above.
“No wonder he’s rich,” she muttered to Ranger. “Who wouldn’t cave?”
Ranger stretched, yawned and went back to sleep. Rose plopped down on the couch, still warm from Nick, and admitted to herself that she’d also, at least to a degree, let him win this round.
The truth was she didn’t want to be alone right now.
She glanced at the open door to her bedroom and couldn’t remember if she’d shut it before she’d left for the Whittaker place in the predawn dark. She wondered if Nick had checked her closets and cellar for intruders. Had he gone through her small office in back? Had he looked for information about her and Derek?
About him?
She got up again and headed into her bedroom to shower and change, glad, at least, that she wasn’t the type to keep a diary.
Five
N ick tried to get up to his room without running into a Cameron or pink-cheeked guests enjoying a getaway in the mountains, but he didn’t succeed on either score. An older couple holding hands passed him in the parking lot, and A.J. intercepted him in the lobby and steered him to a booth in the lodge’s cozy wood-paneled bar.
Nick ordered whiskey. A.J. stuck with water and leaned back against the dark wood, in no way relaxed.
So, Nick, thought, it was going to be that kind of chat.
His whiskey arrived. He took a sip, eyeing the man across from him. He figured A.J. was as kick-ass in his own way as Special Forces soldier Elijah or smoke jumper Sean.
“First time in Vermont?” A.J. asked.
“It is.”
“You could have come last week when Sean was out here.”
He could have, Nick thought, but he hadn’t made up his mind yet about venturing East. More to the point, he’d known he wouldn’t want Sean with him when he saw Rose.
Bad enough to have to deal with big brother A.J. “I had business to take care of.”
A.J. waited a moment, then said, “What made you decide to c
ome now?”
A state homicide detective and a state arson investigator had asked Nick the same question. “The timing was right,” he said, repeating what he’d told the detectives. “I figured now that things had settled down out here—”
“They haven’t settled down.”
Nick drank more of his whiskey, really wishing he hadn’t run into A.J. “No, they haven’t.” He set his glass down. “Sean and Hannah returned with company.”
“Beth Harper, Scott Thorne, Beth’s brother, Zack,” A.J. said, as if to point out to Nick that he knew what was going on. “I heard Scott left early.”
“He and Zack Harper both responded to the fire this morning. You all have had a hell of a year, which I guess made me even more curious to get out here.”
A.J. didn’t look satisfied. “There’s more to it than that. So long as you’ve told the police everything, you don’t need to tell me.” His tone suggested otherwise, but he didn’t push the point. “I didn’t realize you knew Rose that well.”
“She’s been to California a number of times.”
Nick didn’t want to lie or get into details about his relationship with Rose. Black Falls was a small town, and she was an intensely private woman who didn’t like making mistakes.
Then there was A. J. Cameron, who could have housekeeping short-sheet his California guest’s bed or poison his clam chowder.
“I’m glad Rose wasn’t alone this morning,” A.J. said, then abruptly got to his feet and left Nick to his whiskey.
Nick figured it was as close to a vote of confidence as he’d get from the eldest Cameron.
He settled back in the quiet booth, feeling jet lag and the events of the day gnaw at him. In Beverly Hills, he’d be by the pool or running on the beach, or working. The Vermont winter was beautiful, or at least it was today. He liked to ski and snowshoe, and he knew how not to die in a tent in a blizzard—but he also liked to return to Southern California sun and palm trees.
He’d gone under the North Pole in a submarine. He wondered if that’d count with the rugged Camerons.
He allowed himself one more sip of whiskey and went up to his room. He had a voice mail from Sean asking for an update and texted him back: It’s 24 degrees. Balmy. Say hi to Hannah for me.
Sean would get it: things were under control in Black Falls.
Sleeping with the sister of his business partner and friend had been one of his stupider moves, but Nick didn’t regret it.
He just wished he hadn’t done it.
He stripped and took a shower, ending it with a shot of ice-cold water that he hoped would clear his head. He put on clean clothes that didn’t smell like smoke, grabbed his jacket and headed down to the lobby and back out again. The older couple he’d seen earlier had moved to soft chairs in front of the fire. He imagined himself in another thirty years. Would he be resting by a fire, enjoying a few days at a mountain lodge with the woman he loved? Or would he be working long hours in his high-rise office, making new deals?
Scrooge, Nick thought, gritting his teeth.
Hell. In another thirty years, he could be Ebenezer Scrooge.
He put on his gloves and walked up the country road in front of the lodge, in the opposite direction of Four Corners and Rose’s house. The temperature was dropping as nightfall descended, the sky turning the color of slate, the mountains a deep purple in the distance. He pictured Rose that morning when she’d seen him. Her tight expression. Her self-control, even as her emotions churned under the surface.
She was hiding something, at least from him. No question in his mind.
He reached a marker for a steep, narrow trail up to the waterfall for which Black Falls was named. He noted rock outcroppings amid towering evergreens, bare maples, oaks and white birches—and the quiet. The stillness as night descended in the mountains. No houses were visible from where he stood on the edge of the road. No cars passed. No people.
Rose had grown up on this ridge. She’d lived in Black Falls her entire life.
It was different from Beverly Hills, for sure.
Nick headed back along the road to the lodge. Rose hadn’t arrived for dinner yet. He stopped in the bar and found Lauren Cameron, who, unlike her husband, had a glass of red wine. She motioned for Nick to join her at her booth. She was a beautiful woman, her long, shining blond hair pulled back. She wore a black sweater, jeans and black boots, her only jewelry a simple watch and wedding ring.
“Let me buy you a drink,” she said.
“Thanks,” Nick said as he sat across from her, “but I’m still working off the whiskey I had earlier with A.J. It’s a good day to keep a clear head.”
“Yes, it is.” She finished off her wine. “I’m not from Black Falls, either. I moved to Vermont to reinvent myself after a very short, very bad marriage. It took me a while to get used to the rhythm of life here, but I love it now.”
“Where are you from?”
“Suburban New York. There’s plenty to do in Black Falls and the surrounding area. It’s just different.”
Nick smiled. “Way different from Beverly Hills.”
“You mean you don’t have a life-size stuffed moose in your condo?” She laughed softly, nodding to a giant stuffed moose standing in the corner of the bar. “It used to be in the lobby. I had it moved in here. Fits, doesn’t it?”
“I’m just glad it’s not real.”
Her eyes sparked with humor. “You and me both. I should go.” She eased to her feet, pausing to look down at Nick. “Rose isn’t fragile. We all know that. She’s as tough as her brothers, but she’s the youngest and the only girl. I think sometimes she believes she can’t make the same mistakes they did.”
Nick leaned against the back of the bench. “Was her father hard on her?”
Lauren stood up straight, her manner elegant, restrained. “Drew was a good man, but he lived in a black-and-white world. Good, bad. Do, don’t. Own up to your mistakes. Move on.” Her eyes glistened suddenly with unshed tears. “He saw more shades of gray in life at the end. I think Rose knew that.”
“You’ve all had a rough year.”
“I have my little ones. They keep me from dwelling on the past for too long. Rose was close to her mother. She died a few months after A.J. and I were married.” Lauren sniffled, getting control of herself again. “She helped soften some of the hard edges around here.”
“I met her once when she and Drew came out to California.”
“Of course. I hadn’t thought of that. It’s so strange. You’ve never been to Black Falls, but we all know you.”
“The lodge is everything Sean said it was.”
She smiled. “I hope that’s a good thing. Well, I’ve had my time to myself. A glass of wine, a few pages of a book by the fire—I’m ready to brave a two-year-old and four-year-old again.”
She obviously relished getting back to her family. Nick watched her retreat across the bar and figured Lauren Cameron’s diplomatic manner had to be an asset at Black Falls Lodge. He could see why she was beloved by her brothers-in-law, and undoubtedly Rose, too.
Deciding he hadn’t drunk that much of his first whiskey, he went ahead and ordered another as he contemplated what to do if Rose didn’t show up. He probably shouldn’t drive out to her house to fetch her: alcohol, dark, unfamiliar winding roads, no streetlights. No traffic, either, but if he ended up in a ditch, he was a dead man in this cold.
He could walk but the same issues applied: alcohol, dark, unfamiliar territory, cold.
He took his whiskey to the dining room, where other guests had already gathered at tables covered in white linen, decorated with votive candles. A waiter led him to a small table by another fireplace.
In another two minutes, Rose rushed in, sexy as hell in boots, jeans and a thick sweater some grandma must have knitted. Her hair was damp, obviously from a recent shower. Nick shifted in his chair. That morning in Beverly Hills last June, even after they’d both realized they’d made a mistake, they’d made love a second time in
his walk-in shower.
He shot to his feet at the vivid memory and greeted her. “Would you like to sit by the fire, or are you warm enough in that sweater?”
She pulled out a chair across from him, away from the fire. “Here’s fine, thanks.”
He nodded to her sweater as he returned to his seat. “Looks hand-knitted. Your grandma?”
“I never knew my grandmothers. My parents married relatively late.” She fingered the sweater. “I knitted it myself last winter.”
“Ah. Good job.”
She laughed. “You are such a liar, Nick. It’s a terrible job. Dropped stitches, uneven stitches—”
“Color’s nice.”
“Maybe in this light. I think it’s a sickly green. The yarn was on sale. I can see why, can’t you? I was experimenting.”
He studied her across the table, her eyes almost navy in the candlelight, her skin translucent but still pale. He’d liked hearing her laughter. “So you wore the sweater to remind me you’re a frugal Yankee mountain woman who doesn’t care how she looks?”
“It’s warm and it was handy. I don’t need to remind you of anything.”
“I’m drinking Jack Daniel’s if you’d care to join me.”
Instead she ordered a martini. “I don’t even like martinis,” she said when the waiter withdrew. Her laughter had vanished, her expression challenging now, about one click from outright suspicious.
Nick gritted his teeth. “Why don’t we pretend we just met? Rose Cameron, right? Well, hello, Rose, it’s good to meet you. I’m Nick Martini. Your brother Sean and I are business partners and wildland firefighters out in California.”
She was having none of it. “You and I have too much history, Nick. We can’t pretend anything. We can’t start over.” Her drink arrived and she held it in one hand as she nodded toward the crackling fire. “I could toss my martini into the fire, but not tonight. It’s the wrong symbolism.”
“Rose—”
She didn’t let him finish. “Scott Thorne stopped by before I came over here.” She took a sip of her martini but continued to hold on to the glass. “They’re looking for one of Derek’s friends, Robert Feehan. Robert was with Derek the night at O’Rourke’s last year. He’s a private ski instructor, too. The police have talked to Brett Griffin, who was also at O’Rourke’s, but he was less vocal than Robert, or especially Derek, and has distanced himself from both of them.”
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