by Robyn Carr
She gave him the room they called the north suite, so named because its bow window faced that direction, providing a view of the back grounds and the oak grove beyond. She wondered, as she climbed the stairs ahead of him, if he would remember it from his childhood. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been his parents’ room; the original master suite was in the front of the house. However, the room might hold a few memories for him, anyway.
But Sin said nothing of memories. He dropped his suitcase on the rug, tossed his garment bag over a chair and cast a baleful glance around.
“Where’s the phone?”
Patiently she explained that they didn’t have much of a phone system. There was a line in the kitchen, which had an extension in Myra’s room. And a pay phone in the entrance hall that the guests could use. “It’s part of the charm here,” she added, sounding sheepish in spite of herself. “The Mountain Star is a place to get away from ringing phones.”
He turned those intense black eyes on her. “Which means, in the off-season, you can’t count on the executive trade.”
“The executive trade?” She really did try not to scoff. “We’re not set up for that kind of thing, and we never planned to be. Families come here. And couples looking for a romantic hideaway—”
He dismissed her explanation with a wave of his hand. “Fine. Whatever. I have a cell phone.”
“But you could use the kitchen phone. I’m sure that would—”
“No, thanks. I’ll manage. I want to get this whole thing moving right away, and that means I’ll need a phone to myself.”
“To call contractors and get estimates, you mean?” He gave her another of those dark looks he was such a master at. “That is what I’m here for, isn’t it?”
She only stared at him, picturing a phalanx of contractors descending on the Mountain Star, coming up with estimates for extensive improvements she wasn’t even sure she wanted made.
He blew out a breath. “All right. What is it?”
“Well, I just don’t…”
“What? Speak up.”
She squared her shoulders and spoke out loud and clear. “I thought we said we would take it slow.”
“We did. I’m getting estimates, that’s all. I thought that was what we’d agreed I’d do.”
It was. And she knew it.
“Sophie, there’s no law that says we have to make the improvements right away—or ever, for that matter.”
“Right.”
“We have to start somewhere.”
“Of course, we do.”
“I want to get an idea of what is possible and what it will cost.”
“That does make sense.”
He was pacing back and forth. “So what is the problem?”
I love you, and I’m a coward. “Nothing.”
He stopped pacing, turned to face her. “Then you’re giving me the go-ahead to get the damn estimates?”
“Yes. Certainly. It’s what we agreed.”
“Well, at least that’s settled.”
“Yes.”
“And once I get all the figures together, we’ll sit down with them, all right?”
She nodded.
“We’ll see where we want to go from there.”
“Yes. That’s reasonable. I understand.”
“So,” Myra said an hour later. “How’s our new guest settling in?”
Sophie picked up her fork and started in on the stuffed tomato salad Myra had just set in front of her. She took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “Umm. This is wonderful. What is that spice—cumin?”
“Did I ask you what you thought of lunch? I don’t think I asked you that.”
Sophie drank some milk and set the glass down carefully. “He seems fine.”
“You use that word a lot lately. Fine. Have you noticed that?”
“Myra. What are you driving at?”
There was a bowl of fruit on the kitchen table. Myra turned it, moved the bananas from the left side to the right. “I thought you were giving him the guest house.”
“He refused to stay there.”
“Why?”
“Myra, I don’t have the answers to everything.”
Myra clucked her tongue. “A little on the prickly side, are we?” She fiddled with the bananas some more. “Maybe you ought to ask him.”
“Ask him what?”
“Why he refused the guest house.”
Sophie knew her friend was right. “There are a lot of things I ought to ask him.”
“And will you?”
Sophie picked up her fork again, then set it down. “I keep meaning to.”
“But when will you?”
“Soon.”
Myra sighed. “Better eat your lunch.”
Sophie hardly saw Sin the rest of the day. He spent a couple of hours in his room—no doubt putting his cell phone to use, calling every contractor in the county. And then, later, he went out. He returned in time for dinner and sat down in the dining room with the rest of the guests. Once he’d finished eating, he retreated to his room.
Sophie ate later in the kitchen with Myra and Caleb. Afterward she helped Myra wash dishes and set up for the next morning. Then she crossed the lawn to the guest house. She lay awake very late, thinking of Sin, telling herself to give the situation time—and worrying that he’d never get a moment’s sleep over in the cottage, where the past haunted him so terribly.
In the north suite in Riker Cottage, Sin did lay awake. But his sleepless state had nothing to do with being in the cottage.
On that level, he had changed. He wasn’t sure exactly how. But as soon as he’d stepped through the front door that morning, he’d realized that no bleak memories would torment him there now.
Perhaps, when he had walked away and left the place to Sophie the month before, he’d let go of more than his obsession to get it back.
In any case, to him Riker Cottage was just a big old house now. A structure of wood and rock that needed a new roof and probably ought to have a termite inspection ASAP.
No, the past didn’t keep him awake. Sophie did.
Sophie, who might want him and might not. Who had proposed a partnership between them.
Maybe.
Who offered him her bed.
Without her in it.
He had been certain of one thing when he came here this time: that the next move would have to be hers.
But after today, Sin Riker wasn’t certain of anything at all.
The next day the contractors started coming. Before noon, Sin had two men crawling on the roof and three going through the kitchen with their tape measures and their clipboards. Since it was Bethy’s day off again, Sophie vacuumed and dusted the parlors, foyer, stairs and landings, cleaned the guests’ rooms—and tried to stay out of their way.
After lunch, it was more of the same. Sophie made more beds and more contractors appeared. By three, when all of her maid’s duties were done, Sin had gone off somewhere. Sophie headed back to the guest house to tackle the accounts.
She’d just settled in at her desk when the phone rang. It was Myra in the main house.
“Jennifer Randall’s on her way,” Myra said. Jennifer Randall was the owner of Black Angel, the Arabian mare who’d been injured a couple of months before. “She came banging through the back door a minute ago, looking for you.”
“She’s angry?”
“Steamed.”
“Is her horse injured again?”
“Not that she mentioned. She’s just on the warpath over something Caleb said, I think.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Good luck.”
Sophie hung up just as the pounding started on the back door.
“He is rude. Rude and pushy. And I refuse to board Black Angel here for another day unless you do something about him.” Jennifer Randall paced back and forth in front of Sophie’s desk.
“Ms. Randall, what exactly did Caleb do?”
“What did he do? What he always does. Treating
me as if I don’t know how to handle my own horse. Today he actually tried to give me instructions on caring for my tack. I have had it. He is rude. And I don’t like his attitude…telling me how to ride, for pity’s sake. Giving me orders on how to take care of my equipment. I don’t have to put up with that. And I won’t.”
“Ms. Randall, I—”
“Will you do something about him?”
Sophie mentally counted to ten. “Just what is it that you would like me to do?”
“Reprimand him. Make it clear to him that if he wants to keep his job—”
“You’re asking me to threaten to fire him?”
The woman froze in midstride and planted both fists on her hips. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m asking.”
Patience, Sophie thought. “Ms. Randall, I won’t fire Caleb. He does the work of three men around here. All of the others who board horses here consider him an excellent groom. And he’s also a dear friend.”
“Well. Then I’m afraid I’ll have to take Black Angel out of your care.”
Sophie opened her mouth to try to dissuade her, and then shut it. She had to face facts here. The boarding fee Jennifer Randall paid every month simply wasn’t worth all the trouble she caused.
The woman began pacing again. “Quite frankly, Ms. Jones, this is no way to run a business. Stable help should be just that—help.”
“Ms. Randall,” Sophie said. “We are sorry to lose Black Angel. But I think you’re right. It’s for the best.”
Jennifer Randall stopped pacing. She turned. “What?”
“Of course you’ll need a little time to find another place to board her.”
“But I—”
“A few days, is that enough?”
“Why, I—”
Sophie rose. “I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out.”
The woman sucked in a gasp. “Well, I never—”
“I really don’t think there’s anything more to say.”
“I cannot believe—” This time the woman cut herself off. “All right. I’ll make other arrangements. Within the next few days.”
“Thank you.”
“And I have to tell you, I will not be recommending the Mountain Star to any of my friends or associates.”
Sophie winced, but made herself say evenly, “I understand.”
“And I intended to ride today. I still intend to ride today. I expect that man to take good care of Black Angel until I find her a new place.”
“Of course. There’ll be no problem, I promise you.” She delivered those words to Jennifer Randall’s back, since the woman had already whirled to flounce out. Sophie sank into her desk chair, wincing again as she heard the kitchen door slam.
Caleb appeared about fifteen minutes later, filling the doorway with his muscular bulk.
Sophie looked up from her computer and gave him a smile. “You okay?”
“I’ve been better. The Randall woman just rode off on Black Angel. She did come and talk to you, didn’t she?”
“She sure did.”
“What happened?”
“We agreed that she’d find another stable.”
He looked down at the floor. “That’s a lot of horse. Someday that woman will get herself thrown bad. Or Black Angel will come up with worse than a sprain.”
“Caleb, look at it this way. It’s not our problem anymore—or at least it won’t be within a few days.”
He took a step into the room. “I’m sorry, Sophie B.”
“It’s not your fault. I know that.”
“We can’t afford to lose any boarders.”
“That one we couldn’t afford to keep. Now lighten up. You did the best you could with that woman, and we’re lucky we’re going to be rid of her.”
“I’ll always feel bad for poor Black Angel.”
“In this situation, there’s really nothing you can do.”
“I guess I know it.”
“Then will you please stop shuffling your feet and acting like the world’s come to an end.”
He gave her a reasonable semblance of a smile.
She said, “Go on back to the stables. And don’t worry. This worked out for the best all the way around.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am.”
As soon as she finished recording the receipts for the previous week and paying a few bills that just couldn’t wait another day, Sophie headed for the barn to fool around with her projector some more. The darn thing still wasn’t working right.
She saw Sin, out in the driveway saying goodbye to one of his contractors. He waved at her and she almost stopped, to share a few words with him, to see how his day was going. But after yesterday, she hardly knew what to expect from him: another argument, most likely. After dealing with the Randall woman, she just didn’t feel up to more conflict right then. She returned his wave and kept on walking.
The contractor got in his pickup and drove away—and seconds later, Sin fell in step with her.
“What’s up now?” he asked.
It was an innocent enough question. But still, her stomach clenched like a fist. She just knew he’d find something to criticize soon enough. “I’m going to the barn to look at my projector. It’s been acting up.”
“Does it ever not act up?”
“Good question.” She walked a little faster. Next he’d start in on how she needed a new projector.
And he did. “Sophie, we’ve got to look into replacing that thing.”
She murmured something noncommittal and kept on walking.
He stayed with her—and moved on to the next order of business. “What the hell happened to that skinny maid you had?”
“Midge quit a few weeks ago. I have a new maid now. Bethy.”
“I didn’t see any Bethy today. I saw you cleaning the rooms by yourself.”
“Bethy has Monday and Tuesday off.” She had no intention of telling him that Bethy was four months pregnant and morning sickness kept her from working most of the rest of the week. He’d find out soon enough, she supposed. And then she’d get an earful on that subject, too.
They had reached the barn. He took one door and she took the other. They swung them wide and braced them open. They entered the cool, dim interior. Sophie pulled open the curtains to the main room and turned on the overhead fluorescents. She spotted an empty plastic bottle down near the screen, so she went to collect it.
Sin remained at the top of the aisle. “What happened with the bossy blonde. The one with the black Arabian mare?”
How could he know about Jennifer Randall? The man must have radar. She scooped up the bottle and started back toward him. “So. You heard about that.”
“Pretty hard not to. She came stomping into the kitchen in those tall boots of hers just when I got back from looking over that meadow where we talked about putting my house.”
She reached him and went by on her way to the trash can by the concession counter.
He caught her arm. “Stand still a minute, will you?”
She knew that he’d only touched her in order to slow her down. Still, that touch loosed a chain of sensual reactions, like little firecrackers exploding along the waiting surface of her skin. She clutched the empty plastic bottle tighter, hoping the action would help to still her own response.
It didn’t.
His face changed, his mouth going softer, his eyes kindling with heat. Those exquisite five nights they’d shared seemed to rise and shimmer in the air between them. She knew he remembered, just as she remembered—the taste of his kisses, the way he used to reach for her, his hand sliding under her hair, cupping her nape, pulling her close….
Abruptly he released her.
“Tell me about the woman,” he commanded, all business once more. “The blonde with the black Arabian mare. Some problem with Caleb?”
She blinked. “How did you know?”
“She mentioned the groom when she came storming into the kitchen—and not in a flattering way. How did
you work it out?”
“She’s taking the horse elsewhere.”
“When?”
“I gave her a few days to find another stable.”
She waited for him to start criticizing Caleb and mentally braced herself to remain reasonable as she took Caleb’s side.
But he surprised her. “Well, the sooner she’s out of your hair, the better, the way I see it.”
She opened her mouth to argue—and had to switch directions in midword. “I…completely agree with you.”
“There’s nothing more dangerous than a bad horsewoman who refuses to admit she doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing.”
Unless it’s a bad horseman, she thought—but decided that since they were agreeing on something, she’d better not push her luck. “Yes. That’s true.”
“Which reminds me of something else. How well are you insured? Not well enough, I’ll bet. We’ll have to look into that. Especially since you insist on bedding down the homeless in that campground of yours. I went by there today, by the way. You need to get those people to pick up their trash.”
She couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes.
His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”
“What?”
“You just rolled your eyes at me.”
“I did?”
“You know damn well you did.”
“Well…”
“Well, what?”
“Well, Sin, I don’t know—”
“Yes, you do.”
She drew in a fortifying breath and started again. “I’m feeling a little overwhelmed, that’s all. You’re so driven about all this.”
He made a low impatient sound. “There’s no sense in fooling around. I have a couple more people coming tomorrow. Then I’ll have all the estimates I need. I can tell you what I’m willing to invest here, you can show me your profit-and-loss statements. And we can make our decision.”
She felt as if the barn’s stone walls had started moving in her. “We can?”
Those black eyes never wavered. “That was the deal, wasn’t it?”
“But I thought—”
“What?”
“I thought we’d have more time.”
“I don’t need any more time.”
“But…”
“But what?”
“Well, this is all happening so fast. I just don’t…I mean, don’t you need to get some idea about that house you might build? Don’t you need estimates there, too?”