Bert agreed to watch the store the rest of the day, though grudgingly. He probably thought Russ had fallen for the bird of paradise, and it wouldn’t be the first time.
His last three girlfriends had all been city girls, two from Austin and one from San Antonio. None of them had been compatible in the long run, though for a while he’d thought Deirdre was the one. They’d been unofficially engaged and he’d designed his house with her in mind-someplace spacious and comfortable where she could feel at home. But before he’d laid the foundation, she confessed that she couldn’t survive in a small town, that she would go crazy with boredom. She’d been certain she could persuade him to move to the city.
That’s what happened with all of them. As soon as the novelty of tiny Linhart wore off, they couldn’t return to the bright lights fast enough. They couldn’t believe that he stayed in Linhart out of preference. It was as if deep down they believed he was just sitting there, waiting for the right woman to come along and save him from this small town.
He kept telling himself that a plain, uncomplicated, salt-of-the-earth farm girl would be his ideal mate-someone with old-fashioned values who appreciated the things he did. Problem was, he had yet to meet one around here who stirred up even a single hormone.
By contrast, Sydney stirred up a whole flock of hormones. Could he help it if he was a man who appreciated beauty in its more exotic forms?
Out behind the store, Russ opened the passenger door of his Bronco. He honestly tried not to watch as Sydney vaulted gracefully aboard, but he couldn’t miss the glimpse he got of the top of one stocking.
The woman wore real stockings, with a garter belt. That brief glimpse was going to haunt his dreams for a long time.
By the time he slid behind the wheel, Sydney was already sifting through his CDs, which was just as well. He wouldn’t have wanted her to notice that he moved a bit, well, stiffly. He set two bottles of water in the cup holders and revved up the Bronco’s engine.
“You’ve got some great stuff here,” Sydney said, selecting an early Lyle Lovett album. “You and my dad should compare notes some time.”
He doubted he would ever meet Sydney’s father. But he was probably an interesting man, given how his daughter had turned out.
Russ pulled out of the parking lot and down the alley, checking the clock. They had plenty of time. They would arrive at the cabin well before dark, provided Sydney took to hiking.
They cruised down Main Street. Russ took the scenic route, making a few extra turns. He felt a weird compulsion to show off his adopted hometown. He pointed out a few of the sites she’d missed yesterday, like the Linhart Winery.
“Do they import wine?” she wanted to know.
“Of course not. We grow the grapes not far from here. Every bottle of wine they sell is one-hundred-percent Texas.”
“Texas wine, huh?”
She sounded dubious, but it was no use arguing. “You’ll have to taste it some time. It’s good.” Finally he headed for the highway out of town. “If your father is a Texan, how’d you end up in New York?” He was genuinely curious why anyone would leave the Lone Star State for noisy, smelly New York. This place, with its ever-changing landscape of hills and forest, canyons and rivers, vast fields of wildflowers and winding, scenic drives, was paradise on earth as far as he was concerned. It had always felt more like home to him than Vegas.
“My father’s the one who left, not me,” Sydney explained. “He fell in love with New York and moved there before I was born, thank God.”
“Why,
She laughed. “Can you imagine me with a Texas accent?”
“So you must really love New York.” He had no reason to feel disappointed, but he did.
“Oh, I do. Theater, museums, subways and taxis, Central Park, the Statue of Liberty. In New York, every day’s an adventure.”
“You can find adventure here,” he said, not sure why he was trying to convince her. It was her business if she wanted to breathe pollution every day and fall asleep to the sound of sirens and horns at night. But it was best to keep her talking about
Sydney blinked rapidly and for about half a second her face reflected a brand of deep grief Russ was pretty sure he’d never felt. He’d obviously stuck his foot in it and was searching for something to say when she spoke.
“My mother was pure Manhattan,” she said, her voice cracking. “She died a few months ago-almost a year, now. She was my father’s business partner. They formed Baines & Baines together when they were hardly more than kids.”
“Baines & Baines,” Russ murmured. “I thought
“Not officially. I started out working for the family business, but then I branched out on my own. Heir-finding is fun, but it’s mostly research and phone calls. I wanted to get out in the field a bit more, so I started handling other kinds of cases and eventually set up my own office in the spare bedroom of my apartment.”
“But now you’re heir-finding again?”
“Temporarily. I’m helping out my father. Mom had the business head in the family and I’m afraid Dad has made rather a mess of things. I’m trying to get everything sorted out and keep the business on an even keel until he’s ready to take the helm again.” The note of cheerfulness she’d injected into her voice rang false.
“I’m sorry about your mom.” That wasn’t anywhere near adequate, he knew, but he wasn’t good with words or warm fuzzies. He spent too much time alone with his hound dog and with gruff Bert for company.
“No,
“What type of cases do you handle when you’re not helping your dad?”
“A lot of security-consulting work. I have all kinds of clients-everything from mom-and-pop grocery stores to casinos. I do some insurance fraud, your garden-variety background checks on prospective employees, the occasional cheating spouse.”
“Sounds like your dad is lucky he has you to step in when he needs help.”
Sydney huffed. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But for Dad, I’ll always be a little girl. He checks up on me every five minutes.”
And solving this case-finding the long-lost Sammy Oberlin heir-would impress the hell out of her old man. Russ could read between the lines. That was why she was pursuing the case. Well, that and the million-dollar commission.
“Why does the conversation keep turning back to me?” she asked, sounding put out. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking the questions. What can you tell me about this cousin of yours?”
If he kept changing the subject, she would get suspicious. So he gave her some of the truth. “He’s an older man. A widower. Has some kids and grandkids. His family goes back at least four generations in the Linhart area.”
“Have you ever heard of him talk about relatives in the Las Vegas area?”
“Not that I recall.” Russ needed another distraction to delay Sydney from interrogating him. Otherwise, he was going to have to lie outright to her and he didn’t want to do that. “Are you hungry?”
“After the breakfast I had at the Periwinkle? Not likely. By the way, you were right about the sweet rolls.”
“Then would you mind reaching around to the cooler behind my seat and getting a snack for me? I haven’t had lunch.”
“Okay, sure.” She unfastened her seat belt and twisted her body around so she could lean between the bucket seats. Her skirt rode up on her thigh and Russ drank in an extended, appreciative and unapologetic look. Her legs were long for such a petite woman and she definitely had good muscle tone.
“Do you want pretzels, an apple or a granola-Oh, yuck!” She pulled back and rubbed furiously at her face. “That dog is in the car. He stuck his tongue in my ear.” She sounded utterly disgusted.
With a sinking stomach Russ glanced over his shoulder. He hadn’t planned on this outing being a threesome. Sure enough, though, Nero crawled out from under a tarp in the backseat. At some point when Russ had turned his back-probably when Sydney was distracting him-the sneaky old hound had climbed into the back of the Bronco so he
