Smoke Screen

by Emilie Richards

  Cornwall trotted out of the woods to meet her, his enthusiasm a contrast to her lack of it. Paige suffered his loving licks purely because she had no choice. As she suffered she tried to imagine what the man standing on her porch thought of the tableau. "Down, Cornwall," she scolded under her breath. "Think of your dignity. Think of mine."

  Rambo bleated and began to suck greedily on her arm. "Great. A lamb hickey." Paige held her head high and managed the rest of the driveway without limping. She climbed the front steps before she spoke again. "Hello, Hamish. Have you been waiting long?"

  His smile was jovial, but his eyes under his designer glasses were less so. "Not long. I thought I'd just take a chance and see if you were at home."

  "You've caught me unaware, I'm afraid. Come on in and give me a minute to get this little fellow settled." She opened the door and spoke sternly to the dog, who was still at her heels. "Cornwall, stay."

  Instead he stayed at her heels, growling at Hamish as he passed. Finally he made a leap a cat would have envied and settled himself comfortably on the sofa.

  "I wonder what would happen if I told him to get down." Paige walked through to the kitchen and looked around for the best place to make a warm nest for Rambo. She chose a spot not too far from the radiators and dragged a well-used blanket out of the hall closet to make a bed. Rambo's response was a pathetic baa. "You don't want to eat again, do you?" Paige straightened and slapped her hands on her hips in exasperation. Pictures of her father's face flashed through her mind. She wondered what Carter Duvall would say if he knew a deal worth a small fortune had to wait while she fed a big-eyed lamb. "Hamish," she called when it was apparent Rambo wasn't going to quiet down. "We'd better have our conversation in here."

  Her words were met by a low murmur. It was a moment before she realized Hamish was talking to Cornwall, not her. Cornwall's answer was a sharp, shrill bark. She had warmed the bottle in water in the electric jug before she realized Hamish hadn't yet joined her. "Hamish?" she called. "Are you coming?"

  She heard the low murmur and another bark. Abandoning the pathetic scrap of bleating wool, she went to see what was keeping Hamish. She dried the bottle on the hem of her shirt as she walked into the living room. "Why don't you come in the kitchen with me while I feed—" She stopped, startled. Cornwall was standing on all fours on the sofa, his hackles raised a full ninety degrees. Hamish was backing away.

  "I don't think your dog likes me," Hamish said coldly, his eyes still on Cornwall.

  "He's not mine." Paige walked toward the sofa, and Cornwall began to wag his tail. His hackles descended to eighty-five, then eighty. "What are you doing, you bad dog?" she scolded.

  "Apparently he believes he's protecting you."

  Cornwall growled as Hamish spoke.

  "I'm protecting him. If I wasn't, I'd turn him in." She shook a finger at the dog. "Sit, Cornwall! Don't make me mad. Your friends are limited."

  Cornwall wagged his tail, but he didn't sit. Paige reached out and twined her fingers in his collar, fully expecting to get nipped. Instead Cornwall allowed her to pull him off the sofa and drag him to the door. She made sure the latch was secure once he was on the other side.

  "I'm so sorry," she apologized. "That's one of Adam Tomoana's sheep dogs, and for some reason I can't fathom, he's taken a liking to me."

  "That wouldn't be hard to fathom," Hamish said, brushing the coat of his suit as if his long-distance encounter with the dog had somehow left it covered with fur. "What does Tomoana think about his dog guarding you?"

  Paige waved away his question. "At least he's not outside chasing somebody else's sheep. Speaking of which, would you mind having our talk in the kitchen?" Without waiting for an answer, she headed back toward the progressively louder bleats echoing through the house.

  Only when Rambo was sucking steadily did she look up to see if Hamish had followed her. He had, and now he lounged in the doorway, watching. "I realize," she said, "that this is not the standard place and way to do business. I apologize."

  "Somehow I didn't fancy you as an animal lover."

  She grimaced. "You fancied right."

  "Is the lamb one of Tomoana's, too?"

  "Yes."

  "He has a bit of nerve asking you to care for it."

  Paige pushed down her irritation. "I offered."

  "I understand the Maori chief has made an offer himself."

  She wondered just exactly how he knew that his was no longer the only bid for the thermals. Instead of asking, she tackled the more interesting question. "Maori chief?"

  He barely lifted his shoulders, as if his words had meant nothing. "I hear Tomoana's part of some sort of aristocracy, grandson of a chief or some such."

  "I don't find that difficult to believe."

  "Of course, it means nothing now. This is the twentieth century."

  "The twentieth century still has its share of royalty," she pointed out as mildly as she could. "Good breeding always shows, don't you think?" She would have liked to say something more pointed, but she reminded herself that even if she was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor feeding a baby lamb, she was still conducting a business meeting.

  "Good breeding takes a back seat to good business sense in this situation."

  She nodded. "I'd agree, although I'm sure you're not saying they're mutually exclusive."

  His smile was thin-lipped. "Of course not, but with good breeding and good business sense, I'd like to ask you what you intend to do about the thermals."

  She met his gaze, making sure her own concern about the way she was handling this didn't show. "Well, as I told you, I can't do a thing until I've thoroughly explored the land. Additionally, I have received an offer from the Maori community, which complicates matters pleasantly for Duvall Development. With all that in mind, I'm going to have to take some time to gather the information we'll need to make a decision. I expect to be able to present my father with my recommendation in about four weeks."

  The same thin-lipped smile distorted his face. "Indeed?"

  She lowered her eyes to the lamb, adjusting the bottle. "Indeed."

  "And if I withdraw Pacific Outreach's offer?"

  "Then I'll have one less offer to consider."

  "Four weeks seems a bit excessive."

  "Four weeks is what I require." Paige pulled the bottle from Rambo's mouth and held it up to the light. "This is an important decision. I won't be rushed."

  "I'd like to know if we're actually in the running, or if you've already decided to sell to the Maoris."

  Her eyes turned to his. "I'm a businesswoman, not a philanthropist. And I can assure you that my father is even more hard-nosed than I am. He'll make the final decision."

  "Have you considered that you might be doing the community a favor if you sold to us?" He went on before she could answer. "Not only would we bring in jobs and bolster the local economy enormously, we'd be doing the people of this area a service by making the thermals a safer place. As they are now..."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Only that, from what I've been told, people have died in there."

  Paige had said the same thing to Adam, and his answer had been reassuring.

  "And I've been told that the only people who've died shouldn't have been there in the first place. There are warning signs all along the border," she countered.

  "Small comfort if you're injured or dying." Hamish shrugged. "I have to warn you, a longer delay than what you've mentioned will make your father's decision a simple one."

  Paige heard the threat and inclined her head to acknowledge it. "I understand. You have deadlines, too."

  For the third time he repeated the thin-lipped smile. "With that out of the way, would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I thought we might drive into Rotorua."

  Paige was glad to have an excuse to say no. She didn't dislike Hamish, but there was nothing about him that made her want to spend more time with him. "I can't leave the lamb. He has to be fed frequently. I'm sorry
."

  "Another time, perhaps."

  "Will you be staying in New Zealand, then?"

  "I'll be traveling back and forth. I'll need to find backup sites."

  "Of course." Paige stood. Rambo had settled into a forlorn little ball, and his eyelids had drooped shut. "Thank you for the invitation."

  "I'll stay in touch."

  She had no doubt of that.

  They walked through the house to the front porch, where Cornwall waited, head low on outstretched paws. His eyes followed Hamish as he stepped down to the ground, but the only hostility he showed was a low growl. Paige waited until Hamish's car had pulled away before she stooped to rub the dog's ears. "Really, Cornwall. Did Adam send you here to try and squelch the deal with Hamish? Are you a spy?" The porch vibrated from the thumps of a wagging tail.

  Chapter 10

  Sometime not much after dawn Paige covered her head with her pillow and tried to ignore the barks splitting the early morning stillness. Early morning. Stillness. Rambo was asleep. She'd finally been given a chance to sleep, and Cornwall was barking.

  Furious, she sprang out of bed, searching sleepily for something to protect her from the morning dew. The night had been endless, plagued not by nightmares but by the pitiful baaing of a newborn lamb who seemed incapable of getting enough to eat. She had slept at most half an hour at a time, and then only lightly, expecting to be awakened any moment. Rambo hadn't once disappointed her.

  Then, right before dawn, the lamb had sighed contentedly— she hadn't even known a lamb could sigh—and fallen into a deep sleep. Paige had immediately followed his example. And now Cornwall was barking.

  The idiot mutt couldn't be hungry. He had dined the night before on lunch meat and cheese artistically arranged on white pottery just like the white pottery she had eaten the same meat and cheese from. He had been given a bowl of milk before bedtime, although even she knew that was a cat tradition. Apparently he was barking just to hear his own dulcet tones.

  Paige muttered words she would never say louder than a mutter and snatched her nuclear-free sheep sweatshirt from the floor beside her bed, stretching it over her head and nightgown as she marched to the door. She had a suspicion that Cornwall—as dense as he was—would understand her state of mind just by looking at her.

  "Stupid dogs don't live long," she bellowed, throwing the door open to find the stupid dog in question.

  Beside a bristling Cornwall, the familiar figure of a man stood on her front porch. Paige blinked, as startled to find a man as she was to find this particular one. "Granger?"

  "In the flesh." Granger Sheridan held out his arms, and she went unhesitatingly into them. Cornwall growled menacingly, then trotted inside when he was ignored.

  "What on earth are you doing here?" she asked at last, pulling away.

  "What on earth are you still doing in New Zealand?" he asked, stepping back to look at her. "Paige, do you know what you look like?"

  She had a sudden vision of darkly circled eyes, hopelessly tangled hair and a dirty sweatshirt with an asinine slogan. "Absolute perfection," she said blithely. "Where's Ju-lianna?"

  "She's in the car. She's furious that I would wake you up at this time of the morning."

  "A woman I could love. Go get her and bring her in. I'm going to change before she gets here."

  "You may even have time for a shower," he said with a grin.

  She punched him lightly on the arm before she turned and headed for the bathroom.

  One shower later she was back in the living room, and this time her hug was for Julianna. Paige drew back, examining the woman who against all odds had become her friend. "You look wonderful. Granger's treating you well?"

  Julianna smiled her answer. "It's you we're worried about."

  Paige wondered how many women would worry about someone their husband had once planned to marry. "Why on earth are you worried about me?"

  Granger stepped forward. "Carter called me."

  Paige took a moment to figure out why her father would have contacted him. "He thinks we're still together?"

  Granger nodded gravely. "I had to tell him."

  "I wasn't keeping it a secret. I've only spoken to him once, and our phone call wasn't cordial. I just didn't get a chance to let him know what was going on in my personal life."

  "He called to berate me for letting you come here."

  "Father's greatest talent." Paige motioned them to seats, pushing an unrepentant Cornwall to one side so she could sit on the sofa. "I'm sorry if this was awkward for you, but don't tell me you came all this way to check up on me?"

  Julianna's laugh was husky. "We're on our honeymoon."

  Paige looked from Julianna to Granger, and any questions she had about how they were getting along were answered. Julianna, a petite brunette with a waist-length braid and huge blue eyes, glowed. Granger, a man whose considerable charisma resided behind a calm smile and attentive gray eyes, radiated contentment.

  "Honeymoon?" Paige sat forward on her seat. "In New Zealand?"

  "We're on our way to Australia. Julianna has some business to take care of there, so the trip is serving double duty. We're going to visit Dillon while we're at it, and Jody and her mother."

  Paige thought of their mutual friends, stranded travelers who, like them, had been caught in the fury of Hurricane Eve. In these few days of enforced companionship they had formed a friendship as strong as any she had known. "Will you give them my love?"

  "You know we will."

  "And you just happened to be passing through Waimauri?" Paige asked suspiciously.

  "Our flight was routed through Auckland, and we rented a car."

  "Because my father called."

  "Because we wanted to see you," Granger assured her.

  Cornwall slunk across the sofa and plopped his head on Paige's lap. She scratched his ears. "Well, I'm thrilled to see you both. Together," she added after a significant pause.

  "You got my letter? And the watch?" Julianna asked.

  Paige held up her wrist, where the gold band sparkled. "It's beautiful. I wrote you, but I'll bet reading your mail hasn't been a priority."

  "I'm glad you like it."

  "Do you know what I like best? Happy endings." Paige examined her heart for the slight twinge that should have been there. She found nothing but genuine happiness.

  A wavery baa echoed from the kitchen.

  Julianna cocked her head and frowned, obviously puzzled. "That sounded like a sheep. Do they graze in your backyard?"

  "In my kitchen." Paige pushed Cornwall's head off her lap and stood. "This is New Zealand. They're everywhere."

  "Paige, there's a dog on your sofa and a sheep in your kitchen." Granger stood, too. "Do I bring out the straitjacket now, or just before we leave?"

  "Oh, let me feed Rambo first, please." She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Granger stopped as the door swung shut behind her. "Rambo?"

  Julianna laughed. "Maybe her father was right to be worried."

  In the kitchen, Paige knelt beside the radiator. "Don't you look pretty," she crooned. Sometime during the night—she had lost track of exactly when—she had taken Adam up on his sarcastic suggestion and bathed the lamb. Now his wool was snow white and fluffy, and a pale blue ribbon adorned his tiny neck. "Are you hungry again?"

  Rambo lurched into her lap.

  "You think I'm your mama, don't you, baby?" Paige hugged the warm little body, glad for a chance to sort out her feelings away from Julianna and Granger.

  If she'd had a chance to anticipate this meeting, she would have built walls around her heart so thick that nothing could have penetrated them. Instead she had been taken by surprise, and the biggest surprise of all was that she felt nothing but pleasure at seeing them. She had meant everything she had said. She was glad Julianna and Granger were together.

  She didn't love Granger anymore. She probably never had.

  "Paige?" Granger let the door swing shut behind him.

  Paige b
uried her cheek in Rambo's soft wool. "I'm glad you came," she said softly.

  She felt him kneel behind her, his hand warm on her shoulder. "I'm glad, too."

  "I wondered how I'd feel when I saw you again."

  "And?"

  They had been too intimate to lie to each other now. "I think I feel relieved."

  He laughed softly. "Who's the man, Paige?"

  For a moment she didn't know what he meant. "Man?"

  "Someone's hit you like a lightning bolt. How long has it been since you thought you loved me? Three weeks? Four?"

  Suddenly, Adam was as much a presence in the room as the two of them. "There is no man," she said, knowing it wasn't true.

  "You were always so self-contained, so sure of yourself. You're unraveling right before my eyes. You never unraveled for me."

  "You see love everywhere, Granger, because you're in love yourself."

  "And I want to believe it so I won't feel guilty?"

  "You have nothing to feel guilty about."

  "Who's the man?"

  "There is no man," she repeated.

  "Then tell me, am I also imagining the lamb in your lap and the dog on your sofa?"

  She laughed, hugging Rambo harder. "Yes. And if you ever tell any of our mutual friends about this, I'll haunt you."

  "Is he a Kiwi?"

  "The lamb?"

  "The man."

  "There is no man," they said together.

  Paige set Rambo on the floor and stood. "Let me make you breakfast."

  "You don't cook, remember? Besides, we wanted to take you out. We saw a tearoom in town as we drove through."

  "If you like meat pies and scones, that's your place." Paige looked down at the lamb. "I'm afraid I'll have to decline, though. I don't think Rambo here would be welcome."

  The door swung toward them. "May I come in?" Julianna asked. "Is this Rambo?" She stooped to pet him. "He's darling, Paige. But a lamb?"

  "When in Rome." Paige rinsed out the jug to heat water for tea. "At least let me give you some tea before you go."

  "Are we going?" Julianna asked Granger.

  "I'm going into town to pick up food to bring back here. You stay and keep Paige company."