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
About
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 come 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
