Her boss was coming on to her. Zoe couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t and couldn’t decide how she felt about it. By any objective standards, she shouldn’t be slow dancing with Matt Flemming, but it was hard to be objective about a man who looked good enough to lick, and who looked at her like she was the most fascinating person he’d ever met. Those rapt gazes were more than flattering. If she had placed an order for the perfect man—sophisticated, ambitious, smart, and handsome—the universe would have stuck a bow on Matt Flemming and left him on her doorstep. Minus the bow, that was practically what had happened.
Still, what must he think of her, a junior executive who falls into his arms at the first opportunity? She worked hard to be taken seriously, to be seen as a professional. Letting down her hair and slow dancing with her boss wasn’t part of that picture. Suddenly uncomfortable, she stiffened and pulled back.
“I’m sorry.” Matt’s words made her look up. He smiled apologetically and shook his head. “I’m making you uncomfortable.” She started to deny it, a stupid, knee-jerk reaction to placate her boss, but he didn’t let her. “Yes, I am.” He stopped dancing and held her at arm’s length. “I’ve put you in an awkward position and we barely know each other. It’s wrong. Call me overeager to get to know my staff.” He laughed and shook his head.
She smiled back, relieved when she caught sight of their waitress heading their way. “That’s our order. Thanks goodness, I’m so hungry!”
“So am I.” His eyes were boring into hers again, leaving Zoe with little doubt as to what he meant.
She had the presence of mind not to say anything. But there was no question in her mind about her willingness to see what exactly the picture-perfect man would want with her.
• • •
The pizza was gooey with cheese over globs of tasty sauce, and loaded with pepperoni. Zoe was in love. Matt was nearly forgotten through her first two pieces. By the third piece she’d slowed down enough to notice that Matt’s attention kept drifting to the bar.
She turned her head to see what was so interesting. Several people sat on the stools that had obviously been a recent addition to the original bar. At the far end Jase stood talking to the woman Zoe had determined was Jennifer, the wife of his dead friend. Jennifer said nothing, just wiped down some beer spigots as she listened, nodding occasionally.
She turned back to Matt, and found him still watching. “Her name’s Jennifer. She’s known Jase a long time, probably longer than most people here.”
He flashed a smile that made her feel as if she’d just received an A from her favorite teacher. “You read my mind.” His gaze followed Jase as he walked away from the bar. “I think I’ll go get another beer. You want one?”
“No thanks.”
She used the time to go to the restroom and run a comb through her hair. When she returned to the table, Matt was still at the bar, leaning on his arms as he coaxed a few smiles from Jennifer.
If anyone could break through her reserve, it would be Matt. People warmed to him fast. Zoe had to admit it raised a few caution flags. She wasn’t immune to the effect, although he’d counteracted it nicely. He’d been straightforward about his feelings, at the same time acknowledging the touchy situation it put them in. Direct and honest—what more could she expect?
The chair across from her scraped as someone sat down, and she jerked her attention away from the bar.
“Your boyfriend likes to flirt,” Jase said. He leaned forward across the small table, his face less than two feet from hers. She noted the soft curve of his upper lip, the line of his nose, the straight brows. If she touched his cheek, she knew, his whiskers would feel like the fine side of an emery board, barely scratchy . . .
She gave herself a mental shake and managed a disinterested look. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Your date, then.”
“My boss.” She knocked their relationship back a step without thinking. It didn’t feel right to let Jase know she was interested in her boss.
“Friendly management style he has there.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you have anything better to do than watch us?”
“I always keep an eye on suspicious customers.”
“Then you’re wasting your time, because we’re about as unsuspicious as you can get. We’re here during business hours, not sneaking around behind your back, bashing in headlights. The Alpine Sky is a class act, and so are the Flemmings.”
He studied her. “You really believe that?”
Beneath his scowl, his blue eyes were piercing, searching hers for the answer. It took her by surprise—he was serious. He obviously saw something in Matt that she didn’t see. Or he imagined it; he was good at that, judging by how quickly he’d accused her of helping whoever had taken a few swings at his truck.
“I’ve worked for the Flemmings for years,” she told him, exaggerating the relationship to include the whole family. “They’ve never been anything but generous and fair.” Except for Buck’s demeaning view of women, but that was in the past.
As she spoke, he glanced toward the bar and stood up. She knew without looking that Matt was on his way back.
Jase passed beside her as he left, leaning close to her ear. He let several strands of red hair slide through his fingers. “I like it better down,” he said, his voice a low rumble that raised goose bumps along her arm.
She shivered and rubbed them away self-consciously. It didn’t help. She could still feel the whisper of his breath tingling against her scalp, and the tug of his fingers on her hair. Goose bumps popped out all over again.
Whatever it was he did to her, she was going to have to get over it. Fast.
• • •
Fishing had been a terrific idea. In spite of whatever motive Brandon had for getting him out here, forgetting the saloon for a few hours felt good.
Jase cast his lure, the zing of the line breaking the clear air over Killdeer Creek with a high-pitched whine. As soon as the feathery lure hit the surface he began reeling it in again, almost hoping a fish didn’t take it. The constant repetition of casting and reeling in had become soothing in its monotony.
“We should have come earlier,” Brandon called out as he stepped from around a boulder fifty feet downstream. He splashed his way toward Jase through the knee-deep water, his steps slow in the clumsy hip waders and strong current.
“You didn’t catch any?” Jase asked when he got closer.
“No, how about you?”
“Just one. A big guy, probably as big as that one you got at Deadwood last summer.”
“Huh. Did you take a picture?”
“No.”
“Then he was smaller.”
Jase laughed and finished reeling in the line, securing the lure to the pole. “You ready for lunch?”
“Past ready. You think I invited you fishing just to let the trout laugh at me? I want one of those sandwiches your new cook makes. You should sell them.”
“And here I thought you liked my company.” He waded toward the bank as Brandon followed.
“Nah, I’m just using you for food.” He splashed ashore and started removing his waders. “Plus, I asked you so I could make sure you know what the hell you’re doing before you get involved with one of the Larkin girls.”
Jase stopped, the wader’s shoulder straps hanging at his waist. “Jesus, Brandon. Do you really intend to pull some Dr. Phil shtick on me?”
“It’s for your own good, boy-o. I wouldn’t be a friend if I didn’t let you know what you’re getting involved in.”
Jase pulled the waders off. “First, I’m not getting involved in anything. Our relationship is purely business. And second”—he scowled and emphasized his words—“I’m not getting involved.”
Brandon regarded him mildly. “Pretty passionate about that, aren’t you?”
Jase reached into a canvas bag and tossed Brandon a tightly wrapped sandwich. “Screw you.”
“My, my, we’re touchy.”
&nb
sp; Brandon hoisted himself onto their usual lunch spot, a flat-topped boulder by the creek. Jase gave him a warning stare, then climbed up beside him. For a couple of minutes they both concentrated on the thick buns stuffed with meat and cheese, and oozing with sauce.
Brandon finally swallowed and smiled with utter contentment. “Heaven.”
“Amen,” Jase agreed. He took another bite, relishing the perfection of his world—the best scenery, the best food, and his best friend.
“It’s been a long time since you looked at a woman like that.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” Jase lowered his sandwich. “You’re not going to leave it alone, are you?” At Brandon’s bland look, he ripped off a bite and spoke around it. “Fine, get it out of your system. What’s the problem with Zoe Larkin?”
“Nothing. I don’t even know her. Might be a wonderful person.”
“So?”
“So she and her older sister, Maggie, had a hell of a reputation in this town when they were teenagers. They grew up at some hippie commune in the mountains and didn’t exactly make a smooth adjustment to town life. Wild parties. Easy sex, if you believe the stories.”
“I’ve heard the rumors. What’s the point?”
“That’s the point. By the time you quit skiing and started noticing the rest of the world, they’d both done a total one-eighty. But you heard about them. You’d still hear about them if you asked around. That kind of reputation takes a long time to die.”
“Sucks for them. But it doesn’t affect me.”
“It might if you start something with Zoe.”
Jase gave him a hard look. “I guess you didn’t hear me the first three times.”
“Didn’t have to hear you. I saw you looking at her all night long.”
Jase shifted uncomfortably and knew he couldn’t deny it. No matter how hard he tried, he hadn’t been able to get Zoe Larkin out of his mind.
He stared at the swirling water for several seconds. A similar churning sensation ran through the depths of his mind. “The Alpine Sky wants to buy the saloon,” he finally said. “Zoe’s the negotiator.”
Brandon lowered his sandwich. “Holy shit!”
“My reaction exactly.”
“Are you thinking of selling?”
“Hell, no.”
“Good.” Reassured, Brandon took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Why do they want the saloon—tired of the competition?”
“Hardly. We don’t have the same customers. They want to tear it down and put a golf course on my fifty acres.”
“Damn! I like that land.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Like golf, too. And I can see how it makes good business sense for the resort.” The creases deepened on his forehead. “B-Pass probably wouldn’t mind the extra taxes and tourist money, either. Bet they’d rezone quick enough. But—” He shook his head. “Hell, we’ve got enough development on the slopes. Too much. I like your land the way it is.”
“So do I.” He liked his life the way it was, too, without worries or responsibilities. The thought of losing that made him even more uncomfortable than losing out to a golf course.
They ate in silence for a while. Finally, Brandon said, “So if you told them no deal, why is Zoe still coming around?”
“Did you see the guy with Zoe? That’s the owner’s son. He says, and I quote, ‘People sometimes change their minds.’”
Brandon looked at him, his expression gradually turning cold as he followed the implications. “Is that what happened to your truck?”
“I’d put money on it.”
Bandon narrowed his eyes. “Is Zoe Larkin in on it?”
The three-million-dollar question. “I wish I knew.”
They pondered it for a minute before Brandon asked, “What else can they do to pressure you?”
Jase shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’ll bet you a day’s pay I’m going to find out soon.”
“A day’s pay ain’t shit, lately, especially with our little company. Orders are down. We could use something new to grab the customers’ attention.”
He knew it, and had been resisting Brandon’s hints to come up with a product for the winter sports equipment company they’d started years ago. “I did the snowboard redesign.”
“And I think it’s gonna do well. But we need more to go with it.”
That was the problem with owning a business—it needed to make money. It was probably a good thing Brandon cared about that, because ambition was something Jase avoided.
“I’ll think about it,” he said. “Later.”
• • •
Brandon dropped Jase at Cliff’s Auto Center where he picked up his newly repaired truck and drove to the Rusty Wire. The charred smell hit him even before he saw the fire truck in the parking lot. From behind the saloon, an acrid, gray cloud sent a lazy column of smoke into the sky. He hit the gas, speeding around the building just as a long tongue of flames leapt skyward through the smoke.
The Rusty Wire was on fire.
Chapter
Five
Jase screeched to a stop near the fire truck, taking in the scene as he jumped out. A shed at the back of the saloon was engulfed in flames, and the fire had taken a strong foothold on the back entrance.
Adrenaline seized him. He’d run past two firemen before a third grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “You can’t go in there.” The tone was firm, from someone used to giving orders.
“I’m the owner!” To his right, a jet of water burst from the thick fire hose and began doing battle with the flames. He struggled against the man’s grip on his arm. “Let me go! Someone might be in there!”
“No one’s inside. There were only two employees. They’re both standing over there.”
Jase followed his nod and saw Jennifer and Billy behind their cars, frightened gazes fixed on the saloon. He yelled Jennifer’s name, but the sound was lost in a sudden bang as a window burst. Jase ducked. The fireman let go, racing to help with the hose.
Fresh flames poured from the broken window. Russ’s office, he realized, automatically tabulating the amount of flammable items inside. A lot. The arc of water moved over it, drowning the flames at the window and soaking the roof above.
Jase watched for what might have been seconds or minutes. The fire department must have arrived quickly, but the flames had taken a firm hold, and were seeringly bright. Hundred-year-old wood, he thought, watching the vigorous blaze. And all those files in the back office. When he finally turned away, his eyes stung, as if he’d been looking directly into the sun.
Feeling numb and useless, Jase walked over to Jennifer and Billy. Billy blinked at him, as if in a stupor. Jennifer was more collected and stoic. She pressed her mouth into a tight line, and shook her head as she anticipated his question. “I don’t know what happened. I smelled smoke and opened the back door, and the shed was on fire. It had already spread to the saloon’s roof. I yelled for Billy, we got out, and I called the fire department.”
He touched her shoulder, realizing as he did it that he’d avoided touching her for years, as if she embodied some sacred essence of her dead husband. He cringed inwardly, hoping she didn’t resent him for it. “Thanks, Jen, you did the right thing. I’m just glad you’re both safe.”
He looked at the shed, already burned to a blackened, smoking ruin. It was more accurately a lean-to, butting up against the back wall of the saloon. The structure was as old as the main building, probably built to store cords of firewood when woodstoves had been the only source of heat. Jase used it to store extra tables and chairs. There’d been no gasoline cans or piles of dirty rags that might easily combust, although the shed itself was probably a tinderbox. Decades of paint hadn’t kept the wood from drying and cracking. It wouldn’t have taken much to send those boards up in flames.
Still, wood didn’t catch fire by itself. A hard lump formed in his gut. “Jennifer, did you see anyone hanging around before you smelled smoke?”
“That Larkin woman stopped by to see you, but I t
old her you weren’t here.”
He tensed at the unexpected news. “What did she want?”
“She didn’t say.”
He didn’t want to ask the rest. “When was that?”
“Not long before I discovered the fire. I talked to her when she pulled into the parking lot, then I went inside.” She slid a meaningful glance at him.
He looked away, irritated by the sudden ominous prickle along his scalp. If there was anything to it, he’d find out, but he couldn’t prejudge Zoe based on Jennifer’s statement alone. He had a feeling she didn’t care much for Zoe. “How about you, Billy?”
The kid tore his eyes from the fire with a dazed look. “Huh?”
“Did you see anyone else here earlier today?”
He thought about it, brow furrowed. “No, why?”
“Just wondering.” Wondering how the arsonist had approached. He had no doubt it had been deliberate. The saloon had one security camera near the front door, focused on the front lot. He’d check it later, especially to see when Zoe had been there, but he knew it was probably futile. Zoe wasn’t stupid. There were other ways to approach the shed if someone wanted to be sneaky.
The fire was nearly out. The fire hose moved over it like a hungry predator, chasing down spurts of flame as soon as they popped up, soaking the charred skeleton that had been the Rusty Wire’s back hallway and office. It could have been far worse.
A light breeze came up, blowing a fine mist of water from the hose. It filled the air, catching a rainbow that arched above the smoldering debris. An optimistic person might see it as a sign and take hope from it.
Jase was currently sour on hope.
• • •
Zoe saw David change course as he crossed the lobby, going out of his way to intersect her path. She could tell from looking at the nasty sneer he already wore that she wasn’t going to like the conversation.
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