Where was he? Why didn’t he call? At the very least, he could tell her how many towns and truck stops he’d eliminated from his search list.
She spent her days from midmorning until after ten at night at work, staying busy with the many details necessary to keep both the Saloon, restaurant and motel running smoothly. Without Trey to share the workload, there were more than enough tasks to fill her hours.
On Friday night, she left the office just after ten-thirty, spoke briefly with the bartender on duty in the Saloon and exchanged hellos with several regular customers. Then she left, the muted sounds of laughter and music from the Saloon following her across the street to her car.
A month ago, she would have said good-night to Trey before leaving for home and they would have taken a few moments to exchange highlights of their workdays.
Where are you Trey? she thought, for what surely must have been the thousandth time since he’d disappeared.
“And damn it, Chase, why haven’t you called?” she murmured in frustration as she climbed the shallow steps to her porch, keys in hand.
“Because I didn’t want to talk to you.” The deep male voice growled from the shadows on her left.
“Chase?” Her voice shook with fear and adrenaline.
“Yeah.”
A dark form rose from one of the wicker chairs in the far corner and came toward her.
“You startled me.” She lowered her hands, pressing her right palm just over her pounding heart. “Why didn’t you want to talk to me?”
“Because I didn’t have anything new to tell you…”
He kept walking and Raine took a step back, unnerved.
“…and because you’re driving me crazy.”
“What?” she got out, retreating another step as he loomed over her. There was something faintly threatening about him, an aura of danger that made her heart beat faster.
He bent nearer, his lips brushing her temple as he drew in a deep breath before he spoke. “I can’t get the smell of your perfume out of my car.”
“I…”
“I miss arguing with you.” He lifted a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, lingering to trace the curve of her earlobe. “And Killer’s been moping ever since we dropped you off.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t—” She was bewildered and dazed by the possibility he had missed her as much as she had missed him.
“And the worst part,” he interrupted her, “is that I don’t like your being too far away to touch.” He slipped his arms around her waist and tugged her closer until her body rested against his from chest to thigh. “Or kiss.”
He bent his head and brushed soft kisses against the corners of her lips before cupping her face, tilting her chin up to take her mouth with his. Raine threaded her fingers through the thick silk of his hair and held him closer, feeding the heat that roared between them with the pressure of his mouth against hers, the stroke of his tongue as he licked her bottom lip. She groaned, lifting to better fit her body into the hard angles of his. His arms tightened and he cupped her bottom, lifting her to fit the soft cove of her hips against his hard arousal.
“God, you taste good,” he muttered, nuzzling the sensitive skin of her neck. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, her eyes drifting closed.
“Should we be doing this?” she murmured in a last bid for sanity.
“Oh, yeah.” His voice was thick. “We should have done it days ago.” His lips reached the sensitive spot where shoulder met throat and Raine’s toes curled, desire heating her skin, unfurling tendrils of aching need. She could barely think.
“Um…But it’s never wise to mix business with…this…and I’m your client.” Was that really important? She wondered hazily. She wasn’t sure anymore.
“So fire me.” He nudged her back against the door frame, pinned her there with his body and covered her mouth with his.
Heat exploded in her midsection and spread like wildfire. His tongue stroked against hers in blatant invitation and her nipples tightened painfully.
When he finally lifted his head, she felt thoroughly ravished. Her blouse was tugged out of her waistband, his hand warm against the sensitive skin of her midriff.
“Let’s go inside,” he muttered, his lips barely moving against the curve of her ear.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said shakily, shivering when his hand left her midriff for the small of her back. He urged her upward and her heels left the floor, her body seeking a more intimate fit against his.
“You’re kidding, right?” he growled, nudging his hips against hers.
“I wish I wasn’t.” Regret filled her voice. “I need to think about this, Chase.”
He sighed, lifting his head just far enough to search her face. “You’re sure about that?”
“Yes,” she lied.
“All right. But we’re both going to be sorry.”
“You think?” She managed a smile, knowing refusing him would probably keep her awake for hours.
“Oh, yeah. I hate cold showers. Sure you won’t change your mind and ask me in?”
“No,” she murmured, fighting the urge to say yes.
“Damn,” he said, his voice husky. “Then I guess I’ll have to let you go in alone.” His mouth covered hers again. Long moments later, he unwound her arms from around his neck and stepped back, bending his head to press one last kiss against her lips. “Next time, say yes.” He turned and left her.
Chapter Seven
Despite dreaming about making love to Raine for most of the night, Chase woke early the next morning. A midmorning phone call to his mother gained him an invitation to lunch and just before noon, he drove down the long ranch road and parked in front of his parents’ house. Killer jumped out beside him, his deep bark greeting the black-and-tan dog standing on the porch. His mother appeared, smiling with delight.
“I thought it might be you when I heard Muttly barking,” she called.
Chase opened the gate and Killer bounded inside to race up the sidewalk and exchange hellos with the older dog on the porch.
“I think he missed you,” he teased as Killer nudged Margaret and she bent to pet him.
“We missed him, too,” she replied. “And you. Come into the kitchen. Your dad and I are getting food ready for the grill.”
Chase wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Dad’s barbecuing steaks for lunch?”
“Yes, and you can light the grill in about fifteen minutes.”
“Great.” He followed her down the hallway to the kitchen. “Hey, Dad.”
John McCloud looked up from the marble cutting board where he was trimming fat from thick New York steaks with a wicked-looking knife. “Glad you could make it, Chase. There’s cold beer or lemonade in the fridge.”
Chase opted for icy lemonade.
Margaret handed him a bag of corn on the cob and a brown paper bag. “Will you shuck the corn for me?”
“Sure.” He sat at the table, the open bag at his feet, and began to strip away green leaves and pale corn silk. “How have you two been? Anything new?”
“Not with us,” Margaret said pointedly. “We’re fine. You’re the one with stories to tell, aren’t you?”
He glanced up. His dad had paused, knife in hand, to look at him and his mother’s bright eyes were curious.
“I’m guessing it’s safe to assume you’ve heard about the case I’m working on,” he said.
It wasn’t really a question and Chase didn’t need their nods of agreement, but he waited for them, nonetheless, before he continued. “Trey Harper disappeared almost three weeks ago and his sister hired me to look for him. Not a lot more to tell you. We found a motel clerk in Henderson who talked to him on the night he disappeared. And a store clerk remembers seeing his car being driven by two unknown men. Other than that, nothing.”
“We heard Trey Harper was missing, of course. It was all folks talked about for the first week or so. It’s st
ill a topic that comes up every time I go into town—a terrible thing. The sheriff’s office hasn’t had any luck, either?” John asked.
“No. Their investigation turned up zero information. A store clerk confirmed he sold gas to two men driving a silver SUV with Trey’s vanity plates. But except for that one sighting, the vehicle has disappeared, too, despite a statewide alert. No one’s tried to access Harper’s bank account or use his credit cards, either.”
Margaret’s expression was troubled. “It doesn’t sound good, does it.”
Chase shook his head. “If it weren’t for Raine, I’d be convinced I’m looking for a dead body. But she insists her brother’s alive.”
“What makes her think he’s alive if you’re convinced he’s probably dead?” John asked, surprised.
“Trey’s her twin. According to Raine, they’ve always had some kind of bond. She swears she feels it when something bad happens to her brother and she’d know if he were dead.”
“Really?” Margaret’s eyebrows raised, her expression thoughtful. “I’ve read about twins having psychic connections but never personally known anyone who claimed it was true.”
“I don’t know if it’s true or not. All I have is Raine’s word.”
“I was surprised to hear you signed on to look for her brother,” John said.
“You mean because he’s a Harper?” Chase asked bluntly.
“Yeah.”
“It’s business.”
His dad looked unconvinced but his mother considered him for a moment and then nodded with decision.
“Well, I’m glad you’re trying to help find him. That poor girl only has one member of her family left and it would be a shame if he disappeared and she never saw him again.” She nodded emphatically, closing the subject. “We’re picking up your dad’s new tuxedo tomorrow—would you like us to collect yours, too?”
“Sure.” Chase grinned when his dad groaned. “I hope Jessie appreciates the sacrifice we made when we agreed to wear bow ties and shirt studs for this wedding.”
“I’m sure she does,” Margaret said. “Although I can’t for the life of me understand why men always moan about getting dressed up. Every time your father and I attend a black-tie event at the governor’s mansion, he complains.”
“I’m more comfortable in boots and jeans,” John protested. “This is Jessie’s wedding, so I suppose it’s worth a little discomfort if it makes her happy.”
“Yeah,” Chase said. “Is everything ready for the big night—anything I can do for you or Jessie?”
“Not that I can think of,” Margaret said. “Your dad and Luke finished setting up the small platform on the lawn for the altar…the caterer is the same one I always use and I know she’s absolutely reliable…the photographer is dependable…I think everything’s set. I’m glad Jessie decided to have the wedding in our garden—makes it so much easier, especially since the flowers are at their best this month. Just make sure you’re here,” Margaret warned. “Don’t call me from some foreign country and cancel because of a work emergency, okay?”
“I won’t,” Chase promised. “That reminds me—Raine told me she’d like to come but she’s worried you and Dad might not want her at the house.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t we?” John asked, clearly taken aback.
“I think she’s convinced the family somehow blames her and Trey for her mother’s actions after Mike died.”
“That’s crazy,” John said bluntly.
“Of course we don’t!” Margaret said immediately. “Why would we? She was a little girl when it happened—how could she be held responsible for how her mother reacted? In fact,” Margaret said, shaking her head, “I’ve never really harbored any bad feelings toward Anna Harper for what she said to me back then. She was beside herself with grief.”
“I told Raine you wouldn’t blame her,” Chase said. “But she insisted she didn’t want to ruin Jessie’s wedding day so I said I’d run her worries by you.”
“Tell her she’s more than welcome.” Margaret took the bowl of shucked corn from Chase and handed him a box of matches. “Why don’t you go light the grill while we finish up in here.”
Chase walked out onto the patio, mulling over the conversation. He hadn’t been sure how his parents would feel about his working with Raine, but apparently, his mother had just given him her seal of approval.
Women, he thought. I’ll never understand them, not even my mother.
“Dad said I’d find you out here.”
Chase looked over his shoulder. Luke walked toward him across the sunny patio, carrying two frosty bottles of beer.
“Thanks.” Chase took one of the bottles from Luke’s outstretched hand and tipped it, swallowing the cold liquid with appreciation. He wiped the back of his forearm across his brow and gazed at his brother. “What are you doing here in the middle of the day?”
“Rachel talked to Mom this morning and she mentioned you were expected here for lunch. I thought I’d come by and find out what’s new.”
“Yeah, right. Why are you really here?”
“I heard Trey Harper’s sister hired you to look for him.”
“You heard right.”
“And she’s traveling with you?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you always worked alone.”
“I do. This is an exception.”
Luke lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. “You made an exception to a hard-and-fast rule—for a Harper? Why am I having a hard time understanding this?”
“Maybe because I’m having a hard time myself,” Chase growled.
“So why did you take the case? And why did you let her go with you?”
“She says her brother received a letter from an anonymous writer telling him to be at the Bull ’n’ Bash in Billings if he wanted to learn what really happened fifteen years ago when Mike died.”
Lucas’s gaze sharpened. “Who sent the letter?”
“She doesn’t know. I want to find Trey and the letter so I can track it to its source. Whatever the writer knows, I want to know.”
“Do you think it was one of the Kerrigans?”
“Hard to believe either Harlan or Lonnie would grow a conscience after all these years. No—” Chase shook his head “—there must have been someone else who found out what happened that night. Maybe they were there. Maybe Lonnie got drunk and told somebody. I don’t know, but I plan to find out.”
“How’s the search for Trey Harper going?”
“It’s not. Nothing but dead ends after one solid sighting in Henderson.”
“Damn,” Lucas said with feeling.
“Yeah. But it’s early. I’ll find him. And when I do, I want a look at that letter.”
Raine turned off the highway, following several other vehicles down the graveled road leading to John and Margaret McCloud’s home. She found a space in the crowded parking area and eased her car into the narrow slot. The early-evening sunshine had lost the searing heat of afternoon but it was still very warm. She draped her silk evening shawl over her arm. It was a shade darker than the pale green, off-the-shoulder sundress she wore with a simple gold locket and gold filigree earrings. The delicate metal lace earrings were four inches long and glittered against her hair, hanging loose to brush her shoulders. Her careful inspection in the mirror before leaving home earlier had convinced Raine that she didn’t look nervous, despite the flutter of butterflies in her stomach, and that she’d reached her goal of understated elegance. The last thing she wanted to do was stand out from the crowd. In fact, she hoped to remain unseen by the McCloud family throughout the wedding ceremony, join the receiving line to congratulate Zach and his bride and then slip away unnoticed before the reception began.
Despite Chase’s assurances to the contrary, she couldn’t imagine his father, mother, sister or brother were looking forward to seeing a Harper at a McCloud family wedding. She was convinced her presence would be uncomfortable for them on a day that should be filled with only happine
ss.
On the other hand, she and Zach had been friends since high school and she wanted to be there to wish him well when he married the woman he clearly adored.
She hoped she’d be able to satisfy both her wishes—share Zach’s joy on his wedding day and avoid any potentially painful confrontations with the bride’s family.
Smoothing her skirt one last time, Raine lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and walked carefully over the graveled ranch yard, mindful of the delicate leather of her heels.
Several couples were a few steps ahead of her when she reached the open gate, intricately crafted to match the wrought iron fence. Raine trailed her fingertips over a smooth black iron curve, convinced Chase had likely hammered and shaped it in his forge. She followed the chattering group of guests as they strolled along a flagstone pathway edged by lush flower beds and reached the backyard. The beautiful lawn and garden had been meticulously groomed and decorated for the ceremony and reception.
Dozens of wedding guests filled all but a few of the white-painted wooden folding chairs arranged in rows on the plush grass. The chairs faced away from the house and toward a raised altar at the far edge of the lawn. Sprays of pink, white and red roses twined and draped the arching trellis creating a fragrant bower over the altar. A white cloth covered the center aisle between the rows of seats and the end chair in every second row had a satin bow and bouquet of roses clipped to its edge.
A quartet of strings and woodwinds occupied a corner of the flagstone patio, the Debussy melody they were playing underscoring the murmurs and muted laughter from the seated guests.
“Are you a guest of the bride or the groom?”
Raine started glancing around to see a fresh-faced young man in a tuxedo, looking at her expectantly.
“The groom,” she said. “And I’d like to sit near the back, please.”
“Sure.” He stuck out his arm with self-conscious chivalry.
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