The way he said her name was like a soft caress…

“Deanna.”

Every nerve in her body was suddenly awakened. Her heart quickened. Ever since they’d danced together, her imagination had worked overtime on all the seductive things he might say to her in a raw sweep of desire.

He said softly, “I want you to know that you are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.”

Remarkable? Remarkable? Deanna turned the word over in her mind as a kind of hysterical laughter caught in her throat. Not devastating. Not appealing. Not sexy. Not charming. Just remarkable. This definitely wasn’t the kind of compliment she’d hoped for from a man who had turned her romantic fantasies upside down.

She managed a brittle smile. “And I think you’re very upstanding, Dr. Sherman.”

“Upstanding?” he echoed.

Two could play at this game. “And I admire you because you’re ethical, and principled, and honorable, and—”

She never finished, because in one swift movement he pulled her to him and his mouth came down on hers and took her breath with a long, questing kiss.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Sunscreen, a poolside lounge—and Harlequin Intrigue: the perfect recipe for great summer escapes!

This month’s sizzling selection begins with The Stranger Next Door (#573) by Joanna Wayne, the second in her RANDOLPH FAMILY TIES miniseries. Langley Randolph is the kind of Texan who can’t resist a woman in trouble. Can he help unlock a beautiful stranger’s memories…before a killer catches up with her first?

Little Penny Drake is an Innocent Witness (#574) to a murder in this suspenseful yet tender story by Leona Karr. The child’s desperate mother, Deanna, seeks the help of Dr. Steve Sherman. Can Steve unlock her daughter’s secrets…and Deanna’s heart?

Dr. Jonas Shades needs a woman to play his wife. Cathlynn O’Connell is the perfect candidate, but with time running out, he has no choice but to blackmail his bride. Each minute in Jonas’s presence brings Cathlynn closer to understanding her enigmatic “husband” and closer to danger! Don’t miss Blackmailed Bride (#575) by Sylvie Kurtz.

Bestselling Harlequin American Romance author Tina Leonard joins Harlequin Intrigue with a story of spine-tingling suspense and dramatic romance. She’s created the small town of Crookseye Canyon, Texas, as the backdrop for A Man of Honor (#576). Cord Greer must marry his brother’s woman to keep her and her unborn baby safe. But is it fear that drives Tessa Draper into Cord’s arms, or is it something more than Cord had hoped for?

Indulge yourself and find out this summer—and all year long!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Innocent Witness

Leona Karr

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Leona Karr loves to read and write, and her favorite books are romantic suspense. Every book she writes is an exciting discovery as she finds the right combination of romance and intrigue. She has authored over thirty novels, many of which, like Innocent Witness, are set in her home state, Colorado. When she’s not reading and writing, she thoroughly enjoys spoiling her eight beautiful granddaughters.

Books by Leona Karr

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

120—TREASURE HUNT

144—FALCON’S CRY

184—HIDDEN SERPENT

227—FLASHPOINT

262—CUPID’S DAGGER

309—BODYGUARD

366—THE CHARMER

459—FOLLOW ME HOME

487—MYSTERY DAD

574—INNOCENT WITNESS

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Deanna Drake—Her husband was murdered and her daughter hasn’t spoken since. She needs a miracle.

Dr. Steve Sherman—The noted child psychologist is known for performing miracles.

Penny Drake—The secrets locked in the four-year-old’s mind may be dangerous to all.

Travis Sherman—Steve’s seven-year-old son appoints himself Penny’s protector.

Bob Anderson—He’s Deanna’s right-hand man—how badly does he want to be more?

Sheriff Janson—He’s convinced Deanna knows more than she’s saying, and he won’t take what she does say seriously.

Dillon—What does the crusty bartender know about Deanna’s husband’s clandestine activities?

Maude Beaker—The gruff cook won’t stand for anyone messing in her kitchen. Is she trying to keep people at a distance?

Susan Whitcomb—Penny’s nanny makes clandestine meetings of her own after hours.

Jeffery—The hotel desk clerk jealously guards his relationship with Susan.

Roger—The ex-ski bum is another suitor for Susan’s hand.

Hobo—The dog seems to understand Penny’s unspoken communications.

With love to Dorothy McClane, a special friend, good neighbor and loyal fan.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter One

Night shadows rippled in the waters of the lake and flickered through the needled branches of tall ponderosa pine trees standing at the back of the mountain hotel. A small girl, wandering sleepily onto her second-floor balcony, heard murmuring voices and saw two men walking toward a stone wall at the edge of the water. As the child recognized her father, she leaned against the railing and called out to him, but her voice was lost in the muffled sound of gunshot. Her father slumped to the ground, and in paralyzed terror, the little girl watched as the man dragged Papa by the legs into the darkness of encroaching trees.

Dr. Steve Sherman touched the button on his intercom and alerted his secretary that he was ready for his next patient. As an attractive fair-haired woman and a little girl about four years old opened the door and came in, he walked toward them and offered his hand.

“Steve Sherman. I’m glad to meet you, Mrs. Drake.”

“My pleasure, Doctor,” she responded politely. She had arresting blue eyes that regarded him rather coolly under thick, crescent-shaped eyelashes.

“And this pretty little girl must be Penny?” Steve smiled down at the blond, curly-headed child who was staring at him with unblinking eyes. Her posture was stiff, guarded, and the little girl’s tiny fingers visibly tightened on her mother’s hand.

The child had been referred to him by the Colorado Children’s Mental Health Clinic, and the unusual circumstances that had triggered her emotional withdrawal intrigued him. As a well-known child psychologist specializing in children’s trauma, Steve had gained a reputation as an authority on using play therapy as a means of defining and releasing emotional conflicts in children.

He’d carefully read the thick case-study file on the little girl, verifying that since the death of her father four months earlier, Penny Drake’s behavior had become erratic, defensive and antisocial, a complete reversal from the happy, outgoing child she had been before the tragedy. Without any promise of taking the case, he’d agreed to an initial interview with the child and her mother.

Ignoring the way Penny turned her head away and refused to make eye contact with him, Steve said warmly, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Penny.”

No response.

“Thank you, Doctor, for seeing us on such short notice.” Deanna answered politely, while at the same time trying to control her disappointment. Dr. Steve Sherman was not at all what Deanna had expected or hoped for. The casually dressed doctor looked more like he belonged on a golf course than in the office treating children who desperately needed help. He wore a polo shirt, open at the neck, allowing glimpses of chest hair that matched the slightly curling reddish-brown shocks of hair falling over his forehead. Tan slacks and loafers added to the youthful look, and Deanna guessed him to be in his early thirties. Her heart sank. She had expected a much older man. She desperately needed someone who was professionally competent and serious about helping her little girl.

“I assume that the Children’s Clinic sent you Penny’s records?” Deanna continued, endeavoring to put some kind of formality into the interview. Handling matters in an efficient, organized way was her nature and had been partly responsible for her success as a businesswoman.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Steve suggested pleasantly without answering, mentally noting her let’s-get-down-to-business tone. The elegance of her short layered blond hair and the way she held her head gave her a regal quality that matched her beautifully shaped mouth and firm chin. Deanna Drake’s negative vibes were a warning to ready himself for a challenge. This might be interesting.

“Have a seat…or a pillow, rather,” he invited as he pointed to a low round table surrounded by soft cushions placed in the center of the large room.

Deanna tried to keep her expression from revealing her reaction. Was the initial interview with this psychologist going to take place here, in this room which held no resemblance to a regular office? Except for a well-worn floral couch and a window seat, the only places to sit were the floor cushions and a few children’s chairs scattered around the room. A desk, a chair and some file cabinets were pushed into one corner, and the rest of the space was taken up with all kinds of children’s paraphernalia. Everything was shoved onto shelves without any visible sign of organization. A line of framed diplomas on the wall shared crowded space with large baseball posters, Mother Goose pictures, Sesame Street characters and childish artwork. How could the psychologist possibly expect to conduct a professional interview sitting on floor cushions around a table that held a pitcher of chocolate milk, a plate of cookies and several stuffed animals and puppets?

“The pillows are more comfortable than they look,” Steve reassured her, noting her hesitation. “Of course, Mrs. Drake, we can go into the conference room and conduct the interview there if you’d be more at ease…?” He let the sentence dangle like an unspoken challenge.

Deanna met his eyes without a flicker of her long lashes. “This will be fine.” She certainly wasn’t going to let this unorthodox therapist make her lose her composure.

“Good,” he said approvingly as if she’d passed some sort of test.

As Deanna sat down on one of the floor pillows, she was thankful that she had decided to wear white slacks and a yellow shirtwaist blouse instead of a summer dress. Trying to keep her legs covered with a short skirt would have been totally embarrassing. She gave Penny’s hand a reassuring squeeze as she eased her daughter down on the pillow next to her. Taking a deep breath, she tried to quell her nervousness.

Steve chose a cushion across the table from them, sat down and wound his long legs into a cross-legged sitting position. “Would you like a glass of chocolate milk?” he asked as if they were at some Mad Hatter’s tea party.

Deanna silently fumed, No, I don’t want any milk. I want to know if you can help my daughter. She hadn’t driven fifty miles down a mountain road from her home in Eagle Ridge to Denver, and also canceled some important business engagements, so she could play tea party. Without comment, Deanna took the glass he offered.

From the way Penny was watching her mother, Steve knew that the little girl had already picked up, with the intuitive perception of children, that her mother didn’t like Dr. Steve Sherman. He sighed. Not a good beginning. The first hurdle in successfully treating any child was gaining the parent’s confidence, and it didn’t take a degree in psychology to know that he was losing the first inning with Deanna Drake.

“I hope Penny likes chocolate milk,” Steve said as he set a glass in front of her. The child’s guarded look went from her mother to Steve and back to the milk. Then she set her little lips in a stubborn line and made no move to touch the glass.

Steve watched her while pretending to give all his attention to his own glass. As much as the little girl might want to drink the chocolate milk, she wouldn’t touch it. Why? What held her back? What was fueling her willpower and resistance? Although he’d had remarkable success working with traumatized children, he knew that when a psychosis was deeply-seated, the psyche protected itself at all costs.

Steve had read newspaper accounts of Benjamin Drake’s murder in the file, and he knew that they had found the child whimpering in a terrified state on her balcony, but whatever had happened on the night that Penny’s father had been shot still remained a mystery. She must have been a witness to the crime. Who knew what secrets were buried in Penelope Drake’s pretty little head? And equally important, would the child be put in danger if he was successful in breaking her silence about them?

“Would you like a cookie, Penny?” he asked, placing one beside the little girl’s untouched glass of milk. Then he took one for himself and laughed as he sniffed it. “Don’t they smell good. Freshly baked.”

Deanna tried to control her impatience. When she’d heard about Dr. Steve Sherman, the child psychologist who had just moved to the Denver area from California, her hopes had risen like released balloons. Maybe he was the miracle she’d been praying for. Maybe he had the expertise needed to help Penny be herself again. But as Deanna studied the man across the table from her, her high hopes were more like helium balloons sagging from slow leaks. The relaxed psychologist’s attention was on pouring chocolate milk and offering cookies, as if the gravity of the situation completely escaped him.

Steve met her frown with a smile. He knew exactly what she was thinking. Deanna Drake had come to him because she was desperate, and he could tell that she had already written him off as another false and painful disappointment. No doctor in a white coat. No clipboard filled with charts. No reassuring medical trappings. A waste of time. Disappointment radiated from her.

“You live in Eagle Ridge, Colorado?” he asked in a conversational tone, as if they had all the time in the world.

“Yes.” It’s in the file, Deanna silently replied as her chest tightened. Everything was in the records, including her hotel management degree and her five-year marriage to a man fifteen years her senior.

“I’m not sure where Eagle Ridge is.” He raised a questioning dark brown eyebrow. “I guess you know I’m new to Colorado. I’m determined to take some time and enjoy these magnificent mountains.”

“Eagle Ridge is northwest of Denver, about fifty miles. It’s a small mountain town that survives on tourist dollars winter and summer. I inherited a small resort hotel from my late husband. Of course, if you’ve read Penny’s case history, you know all of that.”

“Sounds like a wonderful place to raise children,” he said, ignoring the slight edge to her voice.

“I can’t imagine living anywhere else,” she admitted, and then added quickly, “But I’d move in a minute if I thought it would help Penny.”

“Those are my sentiments as a parent exactly,” he agreed. “That’s why I left California. I wanted something better for my son, Travis. I’m also a single parent. I lost my wife when Travis was less than two years old. His grandmother helped raise him, but she passed away last year, so it’s just the two of us.”

So the handsome Dr. Sherman was a widower, thought Deanna. Why they were spending time on his personal life, she didn’t know, but the fact that he also had a child was, in a way, reassuring. “How old is your son?”

“Travis is seven. I’m hoping he’ll really take to Colorado. I’ve promised to take him hiking and fishing this summer, and next winter we’ll hit the ski slopes.” He grinned at Penny. “He’s never thrown a snowball. And he wants me to buy him a sled. He’s always singing that song about Frosty—you know the one I mean, Penny?”

The little girl’s eyes flickered slightly with interest, but she didn’t answer. Deanna silently fumed. Where was he going with all of this chitchat? Since her father’s murder, Penny seldom interacted with anyone or anything.

“Do you want me to sing it for you?” he asked with a grin. The change in the little girl’s stare was almost imperceptible, but Steve’s trained eyes caught it. So far, so good. Penny Drake is bright and receptive. He leaned toward her and whispered in a confidential tone, “I don’t know all the words. Do you?”

Her mouth remained closed.

Deanna watched them both. Steve didn’t seem to notice Penny’s silence or feel rebuffed by it. He carefully broke his cookie into tiny bite-size chunks before eating each piece with delighted exaggeration. “Mmm, good.” He winked at her, but Penny’s expression remained guarded, and she continued to sit rigidly without touching cookie or milk.

Deanna deliberately looked at her watch, a pointed reminder that Dr. Sherman was using up time for which she was paying. She was impatient with the psychologist’s apparent lack of direction and his total disregard for the gravity of the situation. Disappointment created a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

At that moment, there were three short knocks at an inner door and Steve smiled as if he’d been expecting someone. He called out, “Come in, Travis.”

As a small boy poked his head into the room, Steve motioned him over to the table. “Come on in, Travis. I want you to meet Penny and her mother, Mrs. Drake.”

Travis had the same wide grin as his father, and the same wayward russet hair that had a will of its own. His face was lightly freckled, and dark eyelashes and eyebrows framed an alert pair of brown eyes.

“Hi,” the boy said brightly.

“Would you like some cookies and milk, Travis?”

“Sure,” he said as he plopped down on a pillow next to Penny. Then he eagerly reached into the pile of stuffed animals in the center of the table, and drew out two puppets, Kermit the Frog and Cookie Monster. “Here”, he said, thrusting the blue puppet into Penny’s hands. “You can feed Cookie Monster. See, he’s got a pocket for cookies. Take one for him, and one for you.” Leaning toward her, he said in a conspirator’s whisper, “That way you get to eat two.”

Penny took the puppet, and her expression changed to one of wonder as she watched Travis put a cookie in Kermit the Frog’s lap and pop one in his own mouth. “Peanut butter cookies are the best!” he announced happily.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Steve chided gently, silently patting himself on the back. Good move, Steve, old boy. Using Travis to help diagnose the little girl’s social patterns looks like a winner. Penny still didn’t eat a cookie or feed the puppet, but her listless manner had been replaced by a notable flicker of interest as she watched Travis.

“Son, remember the pictures of those huge Colorado mountains?” Steve asked casually. “That’s where Penny lives.”

Travis’s brown eyes widened. “Really? Wow!”

“I bet Penny would like to see those clay mountains you made for our train set.”

“Sure.” He put down his puppet and took the one back he’d given Penny. He grabbed one of her hands and urged her to her feet. “You can be the engineer, Penny. I’ll show you how.”

Deanna stiffened. In the last four months, Penny had never willingly had anything to do with other children. Numerous attempts to get her to socialize with girls and boys her age had failed. She always hung back, guarded and silent, taking in everything with those candid eyes of hers, but never participating. Deanna couldn’t believe it when Penny didn’t even look in her direction for reassurance, but followed the boy over to a large train set on a sawhorse table.

Unable to hide her surprise, Deanna murmured, “I don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?” Steve casually took a sip of chocolate milk, but Deanna detected a gleam of satisfaction as his gaze locked with hers over the rim of his glass.

She didn’t know how he had subtly managed to create a safe atmosphere for Penny, but she did know it was time to let go of the reins. “All right, Dr. Sherman. Tell me about play therapy.”

“The technique is really very simple,” he said, wiping off a chocolate-milk mustache. “Children are encouraged to use toys and other materials to reveal what is being repressed or controlled. Once they reveal those inner workings, we can answer the fears that have been responsible for changes in personality and behavior.”

“But Penny has a roomful of toys,” Deanna protested. “She has people willing to play all kinds of games with her.”

“And they allow Penny her own space—just to be?”

“We don’t push her to do anything.”

“Isn’t it true that for four months you’ve been pushing her to be the little girl she once was?” he asked frankly.

Deanna’s spine stiffened. How dare he question her loving concern for her daughter? “It’s true that I’ve been searching for a way to heal my child’s emotional wounds and return her to normalcy.”

“Pushing too hard?” he suggested quietly. “I know how hard it is for parents to relax and be patient when there’s so much at stake. I’m afraid there aren’t any quick fixes for deep emotional traumas. It takes time, patience and love.”

Deanna looked at the two children, their heads together, one yellow as corn silk, the other the russet brown of autumn leaves. Her eyes suddenly misted, and she lowered them quickly, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. She was startled when he reached across the table and laid his hand on hers.

He didn’t say anything, and for a brief moment she drew in the warmth of the unexpected touch. Then she took her hand away. Life had not been easy, and she knew that she could be stiff-necked about a lot of things, but she prided herself on being willing to concede when she’d been mistaken. She didn’t need to understand why and how this man dealt so successfully with children. She took a deep breath to steady her voice as she asked, “Will you work with my daughter, Dr. Sherman?”

“There are no guarantees.”

“I know, but you can try. You don’t impress me as someone who runs away from challenges.”

He chuckled. “Are you trying to turn my own psychology back on me, Mrs. Drake?”

“Deanna,” she corrected with a smile. “Yes, I am. What do you say? Just tell me what’s involved—the number of weekly sessions—and I’ll have Penny here. I can arrange to stay in town two or three days in a row. Luckily, I have a good hotel manager who can handle things in my absence. Can we start right away?”

“Whoa.” He smiled as he held up his hand in a stopping fashion. “I’ll need time just getting acquainted before we have serious sessions. Slower is often better when working with children.”

“I understand.” Nodding, she forced herself to curb her impatience. “You set the pace and we’ll hold to it.”

“Unfortunately, I’m clearing my schedule for the month of June. I won’t be back in the office until the first of July.”

Her heart took a familiar plunge. Another frustrating delay. Another heartbreaking marking of time.

“I am sorry,” he apologized. “You see, I’ve promised Travis a summer vacation in the mountains. I couldn’t break my word.”

“Where are you going?” Deanna asked evenly as her mind instantly started racing like a runaway truck on one of Colorado’s mountain passes.

“We haven’t quite decided.”

“May I make a suggestion? You and Travis could be guests at my resort hotel for part of your vacation.” She smiled at him. “Eagle Ridge has beautiful scenery, a river for rafting, a lake for fishing and dozens of other mountain activities. You could stay at the hotel for as much of your vacation as you like. In exchange for my hospitality, you could spend some time with Penny. What better place for your getting-acquainted sessions?”

Her smooth, take-charge manner amused Steve, and he liked the way her eyes sparkled and her cheeks flushed pink with excitement. Deanna Drake had been attractive before, but now her face glowed.

He had to admit, her suggestion certainly had its merits, but there was only one thing wrong with it—he couldn’t treat children in a vacuum. The play therapy room and everything in it was carefully selected and engineered to allow the child free expression of inner feelings. Without the proper setting, Penny wouldn’t release her habitual responses, but would keep on repeating the old ones instead of forming new ones.

He tried to explain this to Deanna. “In order to make meaningful use of toys, or play therapy, the therapist must control all the variables that can possibly be controlled. Any extraneous factors can confuse what the child is revealing, or be so distracting that nothing is accomplished in the sessions. It’s important to have a consistent environment and one that provides everything for the child and therapist to interact.”

Deanna looked around the room, “I don’t see anything in here that isn’t replaceable. If you make me a list, I’ll have a playroom ready that will meet your needs.”

“The expense—” he began.

“Won’t be close to what I’m willing to spend on Penny,” she countered swiftly. “I can easily provide a nice private room in the hotel for your exclusive use. As often as it’s convenient for you to have a session with Penny, the room will be ready and furnished as well as this one. That way, we could begin Penny’s sessions while you and Travis enjoy an extended vacation in the mountains.”

The decision was not an easy one to make. He could have insisted that the idea wasn’t workable. A warning was there that he might become too emotionally involved.

There were other considerations, too. The killer of Deanna Drake’s husband was still at large. As far as he knew, the case was still open, and from what he could learn, there were no real suspects and no definite motive. Since Penny’s trauma was tied to the night her father was killed, Steve knew that the child’s withdrawal was a way of protecting herself. If he successfully helped Penny retrieve a memory that would be a threat to whoever shot her father, what would be the consequences?

What would be the consequences if he didn’t?

Later he wondered exactly what it was that made him put aside his reservations and agree. He seemed to have no choice as he looked into Deanna’s hopeful face, but to smile and say, “All right. It’s a deal.”

Chapter Two

Deanna couldn’t have been more anxious if the governor had been expected the day that Steve Sherman and Travis were due to check into the Drake Resort Hotel. Her heartbeat quickened with anticipation as she took the back stairs up to the third floor. Ever since final arrangements had been made for him and his son to spend the month of June at the hotel, her time had been filled with preparations for their visit.

Deanna had chosen a large airy room to be used as the play therapy room. Everything on the list that Dr. Sherman had given her was ready and waiting: sandbox, dollhouse, small plastic animals, cars, trucks, rubber gun and knife, easel, paints, paper, clay, play telephone, chalk, crayons, books and puzzles. In addition to the play materials, she had provided a low round table, floor cushions and a soft easy chair as faded and lumpy as the one in Dr. Sherman’s therapy room. The only thing that was missing was an electric train, and he had decided that would be too tempting for Travis to leave alone.

Steve had warned Deanna not to let Penny play in the room, or even see it before her first session. “I don’t want her to have any preconceived feelings about the playroom or the toys.” He impressed upon Deanna the need to keep the room separate from the rest of the child’s normal life. “The time spent in that room will be an experience apart from her normal activities.”

“I understand,” she had readily agreed.

He also had warned her that what happened during play therapy was between him and her daughter.

She frowned. “But how will I know how she’s doing?”

He smiled. “It’s my job to know how she’s doing, not yours. I’ll share with you anything that will help me do my job. All right?”

As she gave the room one last look, she breathed a prayer that somehow, within these walls, the dark psyche that lived within her daughter would be released, and she would have her normal little daughter back again. She was just locking the playroom door when she heard footsteps on the stairs, and swung around to face Bob Henderson, her trusted hotel manager.

“Oh, Bob, it’s you,” she said, letting out her breath when she saw the thirty-year old, sandy-haired man. “I thought…I thought maybe they’d come already.”

“Nope, not yet. Hey, girl, you’re as jumpy as a cat dancing on a live wire.” His round face creased in a frown. “What gives? Don’t you think that city doctor’s going to approve of your efforts? God knows you’ve been knocking yourself out making sure that room is exactly like he wants it. He better not give you a bad time or I’ll deal with him in short order.” He fell in step with Deanna as she walked back down to the reception area.

Deanna laughed at his fierce expression and the way he straightened his thick shoulders as if ready to do battle. A childhood friend of hers, Bob had been her protective knight ever since high school. He had been a star football player, and still maintained a hard, muscular physique. He was already working in the hotel for her husband before the tragedy. Now he practically ran the place, and she didn’t know how she’d manage without him.

“Down, boy, down,” Deanna teased in a laughing fashion. “No need to show your teeth. I’m sure Dr. Sherman is going to be pleased.”

“Well, he better be. Sounds to me like all the guy does is play with kid stuff and charge big bucks for it.” Bob shook his head. “Are you sure he’s not taking you for a ride? Giving him a free room, while dishing out good money for him to play with Penny? Sounds like a real scam to me.”

“It’ll be worth every cent if he can make some progress with her. Besides, I’m at my wit’s end. I don’t know what else to try. Nothing has worked.”

Bob touched her arm. “Honey, you can’t keep tearing yourself up like this. Ben wouldn’t want it. You’ve got to get on with your life.”

She knew what Bob meant by getting on with her life. He wanted to marry her. Heaven knows, he’d asked her often enough in the last four months, but the answer was always the same. She didn’t want to marry Bob Henderson, or anybody else. Marriage hadn’t been that terrific the first time around. The only good thing that had come out of it was Penny. Deanna wasn’t about to lose her freedom again, even to someone as nice and loyal as Bob Henderson.

Bob disappeared into the office while Deanna lingered a moment in the lobby, looking around, trying to get a detached perspective on the furnishings. She wondered what the California doctor would think about the decor: unpretentious western-style furniture, colorful Indian rugs scattered on the polished oak floor, and walls of rough logs that matched an open-beam ceiling.

The hotel had been completely renovated and modernized in the last few years without losing its original Old West charm. So far, it had survived the encroaching Colorado ski country development, a sprawl of condominiums and lodges. She didn’t know how much longer it would turn a profit. Thank goodness, there were loyal guests who returned every year to Eagle Ridge, and more and more small conferences and seminars were choosing the hotel for their meetings. The hotel’s thirty-five rooms were filled every night from May to October.

She had reserved a double room for Steve and his son on the second floor, overlooking the lake. A small balcony gave a panoramic view of the green-carpeted foothills and jagged, snow-tipped peaks. She was certain that he’d find the surroundings spectacular, even if he found the accommodations wanting.

Relax, she schooled herself, her palms moist from nervousness. Even if the attractive doctor preferred more luxurious accommodations, she was almost certain he wouldn’t go back on their agreement. During the next four weeks Dr. Sherman would be in and out of the hotel, enjoying a mountain vacation with his son, and at the same time scheduling treatments with Penny. If her daughter made any progress at all, Deanna was determined to arrange for continued sessions with the psychologist when the month was over and he returned to Denver.

Don’t expect miracles, she cautioned herself, but germinating hope was there just the same.

IT WAS ALMOST dinnertime when Susan, Penny and an overgrown mutt they called Hobo came bounding into the office. Deanna had hired Susan Whitcomb, a husky seventeen-year-old with a round face and a long ponytail dangling down her back, to be Penny’s companion for the summer. From the beginning, Susan seemed to readily understand Penny’s silent communications, and enthusiastically did all the talking for both of them. Deanna sometimes wondered if Susan was making it too easy for Penny not to talk.

Maybe I should ask Dr. Sherman to evaluate the situation, Deanna thought. He would see the interaction between Penny and Susan. Yes, he would be able to suggest ways for Susan to help her. A ripple of relief went through Deanna. How weary she’d become of carrying the full load of Penny’s condition by herself. Now she would have a professional on the spot to share her concerns.

“They’re here. At the front desk,” Susan bubbled. “Wow, what a hunk! When the guy told Mr. Henderson that he was Steve Sherman, I couldn’t believe he was the doctor you’ve been talking about. More like a model for Sports Illustrated magazine, if you ask me. And he’s going to be here for a whole month?”

Deanna nodded “He and his son, Travis, will be our guests, and I want everyone to treat them like guests.” She landed a little heavy on the last word.

“Oh, sure, no problem. Hey, the boy seems like a nice kid. When he patted Hobo, the dog wagged his tail like an egg beater gone berserk. Penny thought it was funny, didn’t you, hon?” She laughed down at the little girl who was stroking the dog’s shaggy coat of brown fur.

Deanna was relieved to see her daughter’s blue eyes were bright and clear, and devoid of the dark shadows that sometimes deepened them to almost black. A good sign.

Deanna stood up, smoothing the folds of her lavender-blue dress, which was fashioned in straight, simple lines that complemented her trim figure. Her legs were firm and shapely, and on impulse, she’d decided to wear high heels just for the smug feeling they gave her. “Well, I guess I’d better say hello.”

Susan’s eyes sparkled as she took in Deanna’s dress and shoes. “Wow, look at you. Gold earrings and everything. You ought to turn a few heads in that out-fit…or maybe one in particular. If you know what I mean.”

Deanna tried to ignore Susan’s broad grin, but she suddenly felt terribly self-conscious. Why on earth had she put on a dress instead of her usual trim slacks and tailored blouse? She shoved aside the glaring truth that her feminine side wanted to impress the California doctor.

“Susan, why don’t you take Penny into the dining room, and see what the cook has on the menu for dinner,” Deanna said. “You go ahead and order. If Dr. Sherman and Travis haven’t eaten, we’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Okay, but I tried to see what Maude was preparing and she chased me out before I could find out.”

Deanna silently crossed her fingers that the stocky, gray-haired Maude Beaker was as good a cook as she claimed she was. Keeping good help was a constant headache because the resorts nearer the ski areas paid higher wages, and her last cook had quit without notice. Luckily, Maude, apparently an old maid, had come to Red Eagle to live with her nephew, Roy Beaker. She’d told Deanna that Roy was gone all the time, so she’d decided to find work. Deanna couldn’t imagine the two of them living together. Roy was as testy as his aunt, and if they ever argued, Deanna feared Maude might decide to move on, leaving Deanna without a cook again. So far, the meals Maude had prepared had been tasty, but nothing fancy. Deanna hoped Steve Sherman wasn’t so spoiled by the offerings of chic California hotels and restaurants that his palate rejected plain cooking.

Leaving the dog in the office, Susan and Penny headed for the dining room, and Deanna walked down the hall to the lobby. When she caught sight of Steve standing at the front desk, she knew what had stimulated Susan’s adolescent approval. His formfitting jeans and knit shirt could have been on a television commercial showing what sexy men were wearing. He was boyishly handsome with his chestnut hair all windblown, his face tanned from a day in the sun.

“Hi, Mrs. Drake,” Travis called before she reached them. He ran over to her and exclaimed, “We’re here.”

“So you are,” she laughed at his exuberance. “Did you have a good trip from Denver?” She really wanted to ask why they were late getting here. She had been anxiously expecting them all day, fearful that something might have gone wrong.

“We saw some big, big elk. A whole bunch. Horns like this.” He spread out his arms as far as they would go. “Dad took pictures. We’ll show you,” he bubbled.

Deanna smiled, “I’d love to see them.”

“We even stopped and talked to a bunch of guys who were fishing. They had a whole string of spotted pink fish.” He held out his little arms wide to show Deanna how many. “Dad says we’re going fishing to catch a bunch of them.”

“I said we were going to try and catch some,” Steve chuckled. “Don’t put me on the spot, son.”

“There are plenty of trout in the lake,” Deanna assured them. “And we even have boats that will take you out in the middle where the big ones are.”

“Gosh! Can we do that, Dad?”

“Well, not tonight.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Probably not tomorrow.” At his son’s groan, he smiled. “We don’t want to do everything the first day, do we? We’ll get everything in, I promise.” He knew that his son was walking two feet off the ground, talking and planning all kinds of fun for their mountain vacation. Steve was almost as eager as Travis to enjoy the spectacular Colorado Rockies. He’d been looking forward to spending this vacation time with his son. Combining work with pleasure should work out well for everyone. Scheduling Penny’s therapy sessions in the morning would leave the rest of the day for Travis.

“The hotel has a nice playground,” Deanna said. “And an indoor swimming pool.”

As Steve let his eyes travel to her honey colored hair, lightly tanned skin and blue dress that swirled around a beautiful pair of legs, he could easily picture her in a bathing suit. He chided himself for wondering if she ever swam with the guests.

He picked up the room keys. “First let’s get settled in our room.”

“I’ll have one of the boys take your luggage up, sir,” said the desk clerk, a tall, lanky young man with a ready smile.

Deanna was pleased with the way Jeffery Tanner was handling the desk, and hoped Jeffery would stick around awhile, but she knew that as soon as college opened in the fall, he’d be gone. Keeping staff was an ever-present headache.

“I hope you’ll find your room satisfactory, Dr. Sherman.” Deanna smiled with her usual hostess politeness.

“Steve,” he corrected her. “I’m on vacation, remember? And may I call you Deanna? It’s a lovely name, by the way. Suits you.”

She didn’t know quite what he meant by the compliment, but she found her face getting slightly warm under his appreciative gaze. She hoped her voice sounded normal when she suggested, “Why don’t you and Travis join us for dinner, Steve? You know Penny, and her nanny, Susan Whitcomb, is with her in the dining room. I don’t know what’s on the dinner menu, but mountain air usually makes everything taste good.”

“Sounds great,” Steve responded readily. “Let us freshen up a bit and we’ll meet you in the dining room, say, fifteen minutes?”

They made it back downstairs in only ten minutes. Steve had changed into fresh brown slacks and a tan pullover sweater. Travis’s face was freshly scrubbed, his hair neatly combed, and he wore a Broncos’ sweatshirt that looked brand-new.

Deanna was pleased when Steve looked around the dining room and gave a nod of approval. She had chosen a pastel floral wallpaper and tablecloths in pale green and pink. A series of windows overlooked the lake and mountain valley. A flagstone terrace with potted greenery just outside added to the spacious feeling of the room and made a wonderful setting for early-morning breakfast, midday lunch and evening dinner.

“Very nice,” he said. “Warm and inviting.”

He smiled at Susan as he took a chair beside her, and Deanna enjoyed a secret smile at the young girl’s flustered expression. Travis took a seat on the other side of Susan, and following thoughts of his own, asked, “What’s the dog’s name?”

“Hobo,” answered Deanna.

“That’s a funny name,” Travis said, frowning.

“It’s another word for tramp,” Steve explained, and Travis brightened. He’d read a book about a funny tramp who wandered around making people laugh.

“We took Hobo in as a stray, and haven’t been able to get rid of his straggly, unkempt look despite brushing and baths,” Deanna chuckled. “He seems determined to live up to his name.”

“Maybe he would like to be called Prince better, even if he doesn’t look like one,” Travis offered.

Deanna exchanged an amused look with Steve. She liked his son. Travis was outgoing, smart and full of energy. A wonderful companion for Penny. She said, “I’ve talked to Susan about looking after Travis when you’re busy.”

“Great.” He’d been wondering who he was going to hire to keep an eye on Travis while he was occupied in the mornings with Penny. “What do you say, Travis? Would you like to keep this pretty girl company some of the time?”

“Sure.”

“I can tell we’re going to get along great.” Susan winked at him, and he winked back.

Deanna was a little on edge when it came time to order, but everyone seemed to find what they wanted on the limited menu, and she began to relax. As they waited for their food, she appreciated how easily Steve handled the conversation. He asked Susan questions about her school and work, smiled at Travis’s boyish chatter and addressed remarks to Penny without any apparent notice of her lack of response.

Although Deanna was eager to talk to him about her daughter and show him the playroom, she contained herself until they finished eating dessert, a wonderful deep-dish apple pie that had relieved her worries about the new cook.

When everyone was through eating, she said casually to Susan, “Why don’t you take Travis and Penny to the apartment and let them choose one of the movie videos to watch?”

“What kind do you have?” Travis asked bluntly. “All girls’ stuff?”

“We have Lion King,” Susan said.

He grinned his approval. “My favorite. Come on, Penny. I know all the songs. I’ll sing them to you.”

Deanna couldn’t tell what her daughter was thinking. She seemed to regard Travis with the same interest she had for Hobo when he was chasing his tail. Deanna was a little surprised and relieved when Penny slipped off her chair and left happily with the boy and Susan.

She pushed back her coffee cup, trying to find the right words. Getting off to a good start was very important for the success of this unusual arrangement. “Thank you so very much for coming.”

Steve smiled. “No thanks necessary. You have a lovely place here.”

“I’m anxious to show you the playroom. I tried to do everything you wanted. If it isn’t all right, if I’ve missed something, or if you want to change anything, just tell me.”

A slight tremble in her lower lip betrayed taut nerves, and he hastened to put her at ease. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s just relax tonight.” He led the conversation away from her daughter’s treatments, and they talked generally about the tourist business.

Deanna began to relax, and when he suggested an after-dinner drink, she nodded. “Yes, I’d like to show you the lounge. I think you’ll like the western decor.”

As they made their way out of the dining room, several people acknowledged her with a smile, and some of the men seemed to enjoy the way her summer dress complemented her trim figure and long legs. Steve admired the way Deanna carried herself as she walked, gracefully feminine with an air of confidence and purpose. He knew that if they’d met under different circumstances, he would have been interested in knowing her a lot better. Even though it was her daughter who was his patient, and not Deanna, he wanted to keep his interest in this lovely, fascinating woman a professional one.

The lounge was located at the back of the hotel. A colorful sign above a pair of swinging doors read, Rattlesnake Tavern.

Steve read it aloud and looked at Deanna with raised eyebrows. “Just a euphemism, I hope.”

She smiled. “Dillon, the bartender, gave the bar that name when my husband was alive. Dillon’s been in these parts forever, and the stories he tells are ten percent truth and ninety percent blarney. At least, I hope they’re not true,” she said with a rather forced laugh.

Uh, oh. Steve’s well-trained perception told him that Deanna Drake did not like Dillon. Very interesting. Why did she keep him on? She was the boss, wasn’t she? He filed away the question for future notice.

He pushed open the swinging door, and Deanna preceded him into the lounge. The hotel tavern had the ambience of an old western movie. The walls were decorated with horseshoes, lariat ropes, branding irons and other cowboy memorabilia. Pseudo–kerosene lamps with candles in them decorated small round tables and large ceiling wagon-wheel chandeliers hung over a bar that stretched along one wall.

Only about a half-dozen customers sat at the tables and a couple of men had their legs wrapped around stools at the bar. One of them turned around as Steve followed Deanna to a corner table. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw him slide off the bar stool and stride purposefully across the room.

When he reached their table, he said, “I see the good doctor has arrived.” His bold eyes evaluated Steve as if he was ready to take issue with anything that was said.

“This is Bob Henderson, my hotel manager,” Deanna quickly made the introduction. “Dr. Steve Sherman. His son, Travis, is upstairs with Susan and Penny.”

Steve stuck out his hand to force a handshake. The snide way the man had landed on the word good had alerted Steve. Hostility radiated off the hotel manager like bad fumes, and his handshake was perfunctory.

“I hope you’ll find everything to your satisfaction, Doctor. We’re not used to having guests who set up practices in our hotel.”

Ouch! Steve mentally flinched. This guy wasn’t holding back any punches. What gave? Why the icy treatment?

“Bob!” Deanna glared at him. “Dr. Sherman—Steve—is here at my request. He’s generous enough to give up some of his vacation time to treat Penny. We want him to enjoy our hospitality—fully.”

“Of course, of course,” Bob answered mechanically. “I understand you’re planning on being with us a month?” His tone made it clear he considered the visit much too long.

“That’s the plan,” Steve answered smoothly.

“Deanna’s been beside herself trying to get everything ready to your satisfaction.” He put a possessive hand on her shoulder and smiled down at her. “Haven’t you, honey?”

So that’s the way it is. Now Steve understood the hotel manager’s hostility. Obviously, he thought Steve’s presence might be some kind of personal threat as far as Deanna was concerned. He was ready to declare battle on the big-city doctor who was going to freeload at the hotel for a month.

“Well, I guess I’d better get back to the office. I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, Bob, we have some scheduling to do and some other details to work out. See you in the morning.” Deanna gave him a dismissing smile, while she silently steamed. How dare he call me honey? And parade his jealousy like some schoolboy? She struggled to control her anger as he walked away. She wasn’t about to create a scene in front of Penny’s therapist.

“I don’t think Mr. Henderson likes doctors,” Steve said after they had ordered their drinks.

“Bob takes a little too much on himself at times,” Deanna said in the way of an apology. “But he was a great support when I had all the responsibility of the hotel dumped on me so abruptly.”

“I would say that you’ve done very well. You’re to be complimented. It can’t be easy running a hotel like this.”

“It has its challenges,” she said lightly. Keeping her own counsel was one of her strong traits, and she wasn’t about to dump a load of frustrations on this willing listener, but suddenly the lounge seemed stifling and confining. “Let’s take our drinks out on the terrace. I need a breath of fresh air.”

Steve rose and picked up both drinks. As they passed the bar, a craggy-faced man with a black beard wiped his hands on his bartender apron and held out his hand, forcing Steve and Deanna to stop. “You must be the shrink Deanna’s been expecting.”

“That’s me.” Steve nodded. “And you must be Dillon, the most famous storyteller in the Rockies.” The bartender looked to be about fifty years old, with raw-boned features that included a crooked nose and bushy black eyebrows.

“I don’t know about the famous part, but I do like to spin a yarn or two,” he admitted, stroking his shaggy beard. “Been around Eagle Ridge mostly all my life.”

“I’d like to hear some of your stories. I bet there’s a lot of interesting history in this area.”

“Yep, and plenty of goings-on right today. Nothing much goes on around here that escapes these two eyes of mine. Right, Deanna?”

Her smile was thin. “Everyone loves to come to the Rattlesnake and gossip with Dillon.”

“Hey, I’m no gossip. I always check my facts. You better be careful, gal.” He shook a stubby finger at her. “Telling tales out of school will only get ya in a peck of trouble.”

“And what kind of tales could I tell about you that weren’t true?” Deanna countered with quick sharpness.

Dillon gave a grunt that might have passed for a laugh, but then he warned Steve, “Watch out for this gal, Doctor. She’s as pretty as a diamondback rattler, and just as dangerous.”

Deanna ignored the remark, and Steve saw her face was flushed with anger as they walked away from the bar. A set of double French doors at the back of the lounge led outside to a large terrace bordered by a waist-high rock wall.

Now Steve knew why the tavern was nearly empty. The terrace was filled with hotel guests enjoying their drinks under the stars as they sat at small tables, laughing and chatting. He saw that a four-piece band was setting up at one end of the patio near a small hardwood dance floor.

Deanna eased onto a chair at one of the tables near the low rock wall, and Steve was aware of the deep breath she took as if to settle some disquieting emotion. Obviously the little encounter with the bartender had set her on edge. Even if he hadn’t been a professional delving into people’s minds and emotions, he would have been intrigued by the double-edged banter that had taken place between them.

“That’s Shadow Lake,” she said, resuming her conversational tone as she pointed to a wide expanse of water at the base of the hill. “In daytime, the lake is a bright blue, but once the sun goes behind those peaks, the water turns so dark that the shadows of the trees around it are reflected on the surface like black webs.”

“Then I’d say its name is appropriate.”

“Yes, in more ways than one,” she murmured, and then quickly took a sip of her drink.

As Steve looked across the table at her, he was conscious of the way the moonlight played upon her golden hair and traced the lovely lines and planes of her face. If the situation had been different, he could have easily allowed himself to become romantically interested in her, but he was an expert at keeping his love life separate from his profession. He knew how to stay within the bounds of friendship, and even though Deanna Drake intrigued him on more levels than he was willing to admit, he knew how to handle himself. Penny Drake was his patient, and anything that affected her was of vital interest to the success of her treatment.

There was a great deal he needed to learn about Deanna Drake, and the incident that had traumatized her child. He had studied reports sent to him with Penny’s referral, and even gone to the library to read news accounts of her husband’s murder, but the facts were vague. There had been no clues as to who had shot Benjamin Drake in a small clearing behind the hotel, or why. If Penny knew the answers, they were trapped in her mind, while fear kept close guard, preventing her from speaking them. And if he was successful in releasing the truth? Would the revelations be damaging to Deanna Drake? He was well aware that his first obligation was to his patient, even if the fallout of what he learned from Penny might be critical of her mother.

“Have you always lived in Eagle Ridge?” he asked as they sipped their drinks and drew in the fresh night air.

“No, my parents moved to Colorado when I was twelve. They bought a small ranch in this valley, and I attended a consolidated school about thirty miles from here. After I graduated from high school, I enrolled in a Denver college and took a degree in hotel management. My parents had sold out and moved back East by then, but I decided to stay. Both of them have since passed away. As fate would have it, Ben had posted an assistant manager’s job on the college bulletin board. I answered the ad and got the job.” Then she added, “And a husband as a fringe benefit.”

“Sounds like you two had a lot in common.”

She nodded. “Ben was older, had been married when he was in his twenties, and had lost his wife to cancer. He was lonely, and so was I.”

“I know how that goes.” Steve sighed. “I still miss my wife, Carol. When she died and left me alone with a two-year-old child, I didn’t know if I could put my life back together again. Luckily for me, Travis is pure joy.” Steve shook his head ruefully and chuckled. “He’s a handful sometimes, but he makes life very worthwhile.”

“I feel the same way about Penny. Up until now, she’s always been such a happy, outgoing little girl—”

“And she will be again,” he assured her. He didn’t want to talk about Penny, not yet. There would be time later to center the conversation around her child. Because Penny was a minor, he was free to share any insights with her mother as they occurred, and not violate any privileged-information edict that would have governed an adult in his care.

At the moment, he needed to find out as much about Deanna Drake as he could because the child would be affected by whatever was going on in her mother’s life. He waited until the right moment seemed to present itself, and then he asked, “Would you satisfy my curiosity about something?”

She smiled at him over the rim of her glass. “Sure. What do you want to know?”

“What’s wrong between you and Dillon?”

Her fingers visibly tightened around her drink. She bit her lower lip, and at first he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then she said regretfully, “I wish I knew. When my husband was alive, I had very little to do with the tavern or Dillon. Ben made it clear that he’d handle that part of the hotel, almost as if it were a separate business. Since I’ve had to take over the management of the hotel, Dillon has shown nothing but antagonism and anger toward me. It’s almost…almost as if…as if he believes that I’m the one responsible for Ben’s death.”

“I see.” He waited for her to go on.

She looked at her drink for a long moment, and then, just as she lifted her eyes to his, they were interrupted by a muscular young man wearing tight jeans and a muscle shirt that showed off his biceps. Steve had noticed the energetic young man with long bleached hair earlier because he’d been helping the musicians set up.

“I know the band’s an hour late, Deanna,” he said hurriedly. “But it’s not my fault. I was in Silver Springs in plenty of time to pick them up and get them here, but the drummer was fooling around with some gal and made us wait. I told them that you’d probably dock their pay.”

Deanna shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, Roger. I’ll settle with them.” She motioned to Steve. “I want you to meet Steve Sherman. He’s going to be a guest at the hotel for a while. This is Roger. He drives the hotel van and does a little bit of everything else that needs doing around here.”

“I used to be a ski instructor at Vail,” Roger said quickly to set the record straight. “Had to give it up, though. One of my knees went out and I had to have it replaced. But I’m still in good shape.”

Steve almost expected the fellow to flex his muscles to show off his physique. “Yes, I can tell you are.”

“Deanna, I need to talk to you about doing some work on the van. It’s making noises like the whole differential is about to go out. I was thinking—”

“Tomorrow, Roger,” Deanna cut him off. “Tomorrow.”

“Oh, sure.” He glanced quickly at Steve and then back at Deanna. “Gotcha. Sorry.” He gave them a funny kind of salute and left.

Deanna smiled at his retreating back. “Roger’s the proverbial jack-of-all-trades and master of none. He showed up last winter looking for a job. He’d be a good mechanic if he’d put his mind to it, or Bob could train him for office work, but he’ll never stick with any job very long. I think he was more a ski bum than an instructor in Vail, but his banged-up knee put an end to that life-style.”

Steve was sorry that the conversation had turned away from Dillon and whatever it was that made the bartender think Deanna was responsible for her husband’s death. He hoped the subject would come up again, but the band started playing and put an end to any easy conversation.

A few couples got up on the dance floor. For a while they just sat, watched and listened, until the barmaid came around to take an order for more drinks.

Deanna shook her head. “I think we’d best be getting upstairs. It’s about time to put Penny down for the night, and I imagine Susan has a date. She and Jeffery have been a couple for a few weeks now. Young love, you know,” she said in a wistful tone.

“I’d say this is the perfect setting for it.” With that said, Steve let his gaze circle the panorama of mountain peaks etched darkly against the night sky.

She didn’t answer, and when he turned and looked at her, something in her face touched him in a way he wouldn’t have thought possible. Her eyes were filled with such hurt and loneliness that he wanted to pull her close.

He took himself in hand, and as evenly as the sudden quickening of his breath would allow, agreed. “Yes, it’s time to turn in. Tomorrow is an important day.”

Chapter Three

On the way to her apartment, Deanna asked Steve if he’d like to see the therapy room.

“Tomorrow will be soon enough. I think I’d better collect Travis, and see if I can get him to bed. He’s been like a jumping bean all day. I’m afraid he’ll wear everyone out with that geyser energy of his.”

“He’s a darling little boy,” Deanna said sincerely. “Penny seems fascinated by him. Believe me, it’s been a long time since she’s shown interest in any other child. We have a lot of guests who bring their children, and there’s a nice playground on the hotel grounds, but Penny won’t have anything to do with them.” Deanna hesitated and then said, “I guess I ought to warn you that Penny may resist doing anything without the dog nearby.”

“No problem. Hobo can come along with her when she comes to the playroom. Actually, using pets in therapy is not uncommon. A lot of kids feel a lot more comfortable with an animal than with a grown-up. Hobo is welcome to try out some of my play therapy.” He grinned at her. “We therapists are sneaky guys. We’ll use every trick in the book to find success with a child.”

She smiled back. “Then I’ll relax, knowing that both my daughter and dog have found a tricky new playmate.”

As they walked upstairs together, they decided on a daily session from eleven to twelve each morning. Susan would look after Travis for that hour. “I’ll bring Penny up to the therapy room.”

“Good,” Steve said, and then added that he would meet them at the door because he didn’t want her coming into the playroom with Penny. As they entered Deanna’s apartment, he explained that it was important to control all the variables during the sessions, and that meant leaving everything else in Penny’s life outside the door—except the dog.

The children were sprawled out on the living-room floor, watching the end of the Lion King movie, and Susan was curled up on the couch reading a magazine. Both children were sleepy-eyed, and there was no protest when they were told it was time for bed.

“See you tomorrow, Penny. And you, too, Hobo,” Steve said as he collected Travis and started to leave. The dog wagged his scruffy tail at the sound of his name, but Penny only fixed her flat stare on Steve, and didn’t even respond to Travis when he said, “’Night, Penny.”

The room that they’d been assigned was at the opposite wing of the hotel from Deanna’s apartment but on the same second floor and almost directly below the therapy room, which was on the third floor.

Travis fell asleep almost the moment he hit the pillow, but Steve lay wide awake, looking out the window, his mind filled with a swirl of thoughts as threatening as the high dark clouds moving across the face of the moon. Maybe this arrangement had been a mistake. Keeping focused on Penny’s therapy and not letting himself be drawn into a potentially volatile situation with Deanna would be a challenge. The manager’s proprietary manner had clearly been a “hands off” warning. What was Deanna’s real relationship with Bob Henderson? She’d clearly been annoyed with him. Had he stepped into a lovers’ rift? Steve wondered. And if so, what bearing would their relationship have on his stay at the hotel, and more importantly, on his work with Penny?

And what was that undercurrent between her and the bartender, Dillon, all about? Apparently the craggy-faced man had been great friends with Benjamin Drake, and according to Deanna, he held her responsible for Ben’s death. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m going to stick around awhile, Steve thought. He just might be able to help Deanna handle some of the burden that had landed on her shoulders.

He kneaded his pillow, flounced over in bed and lectured himself about the protective urges that he was feeling for this woman he’d just met.

THE NEXT MORNING, Steve stood waiting in the open doorway of the therapy room when Deanna and Penny came up the stairs with Hobo bounding ahead of them. Whether or not the little girl would come willingly into the room without her mother was the first hurdle. Sometimes a child resisted being left alone with the therapist and the first few sessions were unproductive. Nevertheless, Steve was always firm about making the child adjust to being without any parent during therapy.

He was relieved when Penny showed no hesitancy about coming into the playroom with her dog for a look-see. He suspected that Penny must have overheard some of Deanna’s preparations for furnishing the therapy room and was curious about it.

Steve gave Deanna the “okay” sign, and then shut the door. The little girl didn’t seem to notice or be concerned that her mother had gone. Shiny golden curls framed her solemn face, and a shower of freckles dotted her slightly pug nose. She would have been a beautiful child if there’d been a bit of life in her vacant expression.

Steve released a thankful breath that she hadn’t shown any resistance to staying in the playroom. He made himself comfortable on a floor cushion beside a low round table like the one he had in his office. Sitting quietly, he watched the child and dog explore the room.

Hobo sniffed at everything, poked his nose into buckets of toys, and accidentally set a ball rolling with his nose. Penny slowly made a circuit of the room, looking at the dollhouse, sandbox, an easel set up with paper, crayon and paints and an array of puppets and stuffed animals sitting on a shelf, but she didn’t touch anything.

Apparently having satisfied her curiosity, she started toward the door and motioned for Hobo to follow. She was ready to leave.

“Penny.”

She stopped and looked at Steve, her eyes fixed and staring.

He held up a small kitchen timer that was ticking away. “Have you seen a timer, Penny? Like this one? Your mother wants you to stay until this hand goes all the way around. That’s an hour. You can do anything you want until the bell dings. Anything at all. You can play or not play. It’s up to you, but you have to stay here until it’s time to go.”

She looked at him, at the timer, and then at the closed door. Her expression remained the same, closed and guarded. No sign of tears, nor hysterics, nor hint of any kind of emotion.

Hobo came over to the low table where Steve was sitting and sniffed at a plastic bag of cookies that he had requested from Maude, the cook.

“I know what Hobo wants.” Steve laughed and held up the sack. “He wants to eat a cookie. Do you want to give him one?”

There was no visible response on her face, but as Hobo did some dancing turns, begging for the cookie, Penny slowly moved closer to the table.

As Steve held out the sack to her, the dog poked at it with his nose, drooling with anticipation. “Do you want to give Hobo a cookie?”

Without even a responding flicker of her eyelashes, she took the sack, pulled out a cookie and gave it to Hobo. Then she handed the sack back to Steve.

“Does Penny want a cookie?”

As if she hadn’t heard him, the little girl’s eyes flickered to the closed door and back again.

The first hurdle had come.

Steve kept his smile relaxed as she just stood there. Would Penny accept the time allotment? Or would she challenge his authority to keep her in the playroom? Would she waste precious time in tantrums as some children did?

He waited. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the timer and Hobo’s chomping down his cookie. After a moment, Penny lowered her head, fixed her eyes on the floor and just stood there. She looked so small, alone and vulnerable that it was all he could do not to reach a hand out to her, but he knew that building the child’s inner strength could not be imposed from the outside. Deanna’s love would have healed the little girl if tender caring was all that was needed.

“For the time we have together, Penny, you can do just as you please. If there’s something you want to play with, you can. But if you don’t want to play, you don’t have to,” he assured her again.

Slowly Penny lifted her eyes from the floor, looked at the door and then back to him. Then she let her gaze go around the room.

Steve breathed a silent Good girl. He couldn’t direct the little girl or make any suggestions. For the hour she spent with him each day, Penny had to feel perfectly free to do whatever interested her, or to do nothing at all. All he could do was provide a safe environment so she would feel free to express the dark forces that kept her withdrawn. The traumatic blockage that made her fearful of being herself had to be removed, and only when he knew what that was could he help her back to normalcy. He pretended interest in making notes in a small notebook, wondering how long she would stand there.

Very slowly Penny began walking around the room. Once again she passed over all the toys and equipment without touching anything. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw her stop in front of a large window overlooking the grounds below. With purposeful deliberation, she pulled the cord that closed the drapes, shutting out the bright sunlight. Then she walked over to a small exercise mat in one corner of the room and lay on it. When Hobo came over to sniff at her, she pulled him down beside her.

Steve made the proper notes for his record, then he stretched his long legs out in front of him and waited to see what she would do next.

Nothing.

Penny lay there, staring at the ceiling for a long time. The hour passed and when the timer rang both Penny and her dog were asleep.

The dog lifted his head as Steve came over to the mat and sat beside the sleeping child. “Time to wake up, Penny.”

Long eyelashes fringing her pale cheeks lifted slowly. For a moment, Penny’s eyes were clear, but instantly darkened with shadows as she sat up.

“You had a nice nap,” Steve said reassuringly. “And so did Hobo.

Flushed with sleep, Penny rubbed her eyes, and at that moment she looked soft and cuddly. The child had inherited the same fine cameo features as her mother, and the same hint of natural curl in her corn-silk hair. No doubt Penny had inherited her mother’s strong will as well. Deanna had said that her daughter was a vivacious and outgoing child before the night her father was murdered.

The personality change was an effect of the trauma, and Steve knew that Penny’s withdrawal was a protective instinct, a barricade against frightening circumstances. How soon she would be willing to lower it would depend in great part upon how quickly she would trust him.

“It’s time for lunch. Are you hungry?”

No response.

“We’ll shut up the playroom until tomorrow. This is yours and Hobo’s place—no one else’s.”

Penny got up and walked slowly to the door. Then she stood there waiting for Steve to open it. When he turned the knob, showing that it wasn’t locked, he knew from the almost imperceptible flicker of her eyelids that she was surprised. Would the little girl have stayed if she’d known she could turn the knob and walk out?

Deanna was waiting for them in the hall, and for the last ten minutes she’d been looking at her watch, wondering what was going on inside that room. As they came out, she couldn’t tell from Steve’s face whether things had gone well or not, but he laughed as Penny and Hobo bounded down the stairs, so she took that to be a good sign.

Her smile held an unspoken, “Well?”

“Everything went fine.” That’s all Steve was going to say at the moment. As he’d explained to Deanna before, he never discussed with parents the specifics of what went on during therapy unless he felt he needed some more information that parents could supply, or it was time to share something with them that had a bearing on the child’s continued progress. A casual remark made by a parent could easily destroy the trust the child was building in the therapist.

Steve doubted that Deanna would be able to appreciate the importance of Penny’s nonresistance to staying in the room. Until a child was willing to stay an hour in the room, there was little chance of success using play therapy. She had no idea how long and fierce that battle could be.

Deanna translated his noncommittal answer—he really wasn’t going to talk about the sessions, at least not now. It wouldn’t be easy to curb her desire to know everything that was happening to her child, but she would have to trust him to tell her the things she should know. Deanna was determined not to be one of those anxious parents who put a doctor through the third degree every chance they got.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked in her hotel-activities director’s voice.

“Any suggestions?” he asked in the same light tone.

“Well, there’s the hotel swimming pool, boating and fishing on the lake, and a lot of hiking trails. I guess I should warn you, Travis found out there’s a riding stable near here and he’s gearing up for a horseback ride this afternoon.”

“Ouch,” Steve said in mock pain. “I remember the last horseback ride I took. Believe me, the horse and I didn’t part the best of friends.”

“The riding stable has lots of easy-riding horses and guides. You could start out with a short ride up to Chimney Rock,” she told him. “It’s a gentle climb and you can see most of the mountain valley from there. The view might give you a better idea of the fishing streams, as well as some possible camping places and available horseback-riding trails. You shouldn’t have any trouble filling up your vacation. Everything for the outdoor man is right here.”

“You mean, the outdoor boy, don’t you? It’s that son of mine who wants to play mountain man.”

She laughed in agreement. “Travis has been poring over some maps and brochures while you were with Penny. He’s especially excited about our guided horseback trips into the wilderness areas.”

Steve groaned.

“Are you telling me you’re out of condition?” she chided.

“No, I’m telling you I prefer a racquetball court to climbing mountains.”

“Too bad. We don’t have any racquetball courts, but we have plenty of mountains.”

“How about taking a walk around Shadow Lake this afternoon? You could show us some of the points of interest.”

“Sorry, I have a meeting scheduled with a group who want to reserve the hotel for a conference. I’ll be busy the rest of today and tomorrow.”

And the day after that? In a way Steve was relieved that she was making it clear that she wasn’t going to step over any line that would put their relationship on anything but a professional basis. The more he was around Deanna Drake, the challenge of resisting the growing attraction he felt for her was demanding more and more willpower.

“Well, I think Travis and I will take that hike he’s been wanting, and then spend some time in the swimming pool. We’ll save the boating for another day.”

HE WAS GRATEFUL that he’d made a deal with Susan to include Travis in her child-care duties. After he and Travis had come back from their hike and spent an hour in the pool, Susan took both children out to the playground.

Steve wandered around the hotel at his leisure, keeping his eye out for Deanna. When he found her, she was outside in the hotel parking lot, talking to Roger, the ex–ski bum. They were in the middle of a discussion about the ailing hotel van.

“All right, call Denver and have the part sent up by express,” Deanna was saying. “In the meantime, you can use the Subaru for errands. Are you sure you know what’s wrong with the van?”

“Am I sure?” Roger grabbed his chest in mock pain. “How can you doubt the best mechanic this side of the continental divide?”

“Because you’re full of the blarney and you know it.”

Roger winked at Steve. “She loves me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Deanna gave the cocky young man a playful shove. “Go on, order the part. Maude’s going to have a fit if you don’t start getting her orders to the kitchen on time.”

“That battle-ax.”

“She’s the only cook I’ve got, and I’ll string you up by your thumbs if you make her quit.”

He gave Deanna a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” As he walked away, muscles rippled in his back and thighs, but Steve noticed he favored one leg. Probably the knee he’d hurt skiing.

“Seems like a nice kid.”

“He’s no kid. He’s twenty-eight or nine. Anyway, he’s been hanging around Eagle Ridge for quite a while. Ben depended upon him to be the hotel gofer.” She sighed. “This has been one of those days that validate the principle that if something can go wrong, it will.”

Steve decided that Deanna looked like a gal who needed a break. “How about a glass of lemonade or something stronger?”

“Lemonade sounds good.” For some foolish reason, Deanna’s spirits instantly lifted, and she wished she’d had time to freshen up a bit. He’d been in her thoughts off and on all afternoon, and several times she’d made some mistakes that were the result of her daydreaming.

The dining room was nearly empty when they took a seat by the window and ordered a pitcher of lemonade and some sugar cookies. Deanna was just beginning to relax, when Murphy’s Law lived up to its reputation, and her rising spirits took another nosedive.

When Sheriff Janson glanced in the dining room, she knew that he’d come looking for her. “Not today,” she breathed a protest as he came in.

Steve followed her look and asked, “Who is it?”

“Sheriff Janson.”

Steve thought the burly, potbellied man in tight western pants and shirt looked more like a ranch boss than a law officer. He wore a dark cowboy hat perched on the back of his head, and tufts of graying eyebrows hung over dark eyes that were as sharp as polished iron.

Deanna’s stomach tightened as she put down her half-eaten cookie. Sheriff Janson had made it clear from the beginning of his investigation into Ben’s death that she was high on his list of suspects.

“Sorry to intrude on you folks,” he said with little sign that he really meant the apology. Taking off his hat, he held out a gnarled hand to Steve. “Sheriff Janson. I reckon you’re the fellow fixing to help Penny get over her dark spell. Sherman, isn’t it?”

“Dr. Steve Sherman. Glad to meet you.” Usually Steve didn’t bother with the doctor moniker, but Deanna’s reaction to the man had put him on guard. Suddenly she was sitting with her spine pressed against the back of her chair like a cornered animal, every muscle ready for flight. He couldn’t quite tell what was going on between Deanna and the sheriff, but the air was filled with some unspoken hostility. Why was she reacting so negatively to a law officer who must be trying to find her husband’s killer?

“Well, now, Doc, I sure hope things work out with Penny. The little tyke just might have the answer to all of this. I’ll be checking in to find out what she has to say.”

Steve started to enlighten the sheriff about doctor-patient confidentiality, but decided the time wasn’t right. He’d wait until Janson started pushing him, and then he’d set the record straight.

“I guess you haven’t turned up anything new in your investigation, Sheriff,” she said, “otherwise you wouldn’t still be hanging around the hotel.”

The tone and manner of her remark verified Steve’s thoughts. No love lost between the two of them.

“Well, now.” Janson scratched his head, still standing by the table. Steve noticed that Deanna had not asked him to sit down. “Sometimes a body can learn a lot just listening to folks flap their gums a bit. Take Dillon, for instance. I’ll admit he can go off the deep end sometimes, but a bartender sees and hears things that can set him to thinking—”

“In the wrong direction,” she raged.

The sheriff’s bushy eyebrows matted thoughtfully over the bridge of his nose as he peered at Deanna for a long moment. He shook his head when the waitress came up and asked if he would like to order something. Then he said, “Oh, no, I don’t want to intrude on this little party.”

Deanna swallowed hard to keep from retorting that he already had. The sheriff stuck his hat on the back of his head. “Well, I’ll be moseying along. Guess I’ll hit Dillon up for a beer. Nice to meet you, Doc. We’ll have to have a talk real soon.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” Steve responded readily. People intrigued him. All kinds of people. Now he had two interesting good old boys to put under his professional microscope, and if both Dillon and Janson were lined up against Deanna, maybe he could even the sides.

“Sorry about that,” Deanna apologized.

“Don’t be. Maybe if I understood the situation a little better, I might be of some help to you.”

He watched as she struggled to make the decision whether or not to confide in him. He knew well enough that unless a situation impacted Penny in some way, he had no right to involve himself in it. Deanna was not his patient. Any help he gave her would be on a personal basis, friend to friend.

“It’s a sordid mess.”

He only nodded and waited.

She worried the napkin in her hand for a moment, then the decision made, she lifted her head and met his eyes. “Dillon has been filling Janson’s ears with a lot of half truths about me and Bob Henderson, a sordid tale that would make good tabloid copy. ‘Lovers Kill Husband for Hotel.”’

Steve was adept at not showing any emotion to whatever was said. He just nodded to show he accepted what she was telling him. “Dillon has made a deal with me. He won’t go to the newspapers with his suspicions if I let him go on running the bar.”

That’s blackmail, pure and simple.

Her voice was flat and resigned as she echoed his thought. “I know I shouldn’t let him blackmail me, but at the moment my first consideration is Penny. There was some publicity in the beginning when Ben was shot, but, thank God, it died down when the police hit a dead end. Dillon could stir everything up again. I don’t want the news media latching on to the story, slapping Penny’s picture all over the place, and capitalizing on her trauma. Don’t you see that I really have no choice but to go along with Dillon, hoping that he’ll keep the lies to himself as long as I employ him?”

Steve wanted to tell her to call the bartender’s bluff. His temper flared just thinking about the way the unscrupulous man was using her, but he knew she was right. The tabloids would eat up this kind of story. Even if Dillon put out a bunch of lies, the damage would be done. The scenario was a familiar one. Anyone with two eyes in his head could see that Bob Henderson had feelings for Deanna Drake. Steve wondered once again if they were having an affair, or had been lovers in the past, but he knew that he’d have to let the answer come from her. He had no right to pry into her personal life unless it became evident that there was something he needed to know for her daughter’s sake. There was a fine line between his professional obligations and a personal interest in knowing about Deanna Drake’s love life.

“Maybe when Penny tells us what she knows we’ll have some answers,” she said hopefully.

“And maybe not.” Steve didn’t want to encourage any wishful thinking. “Even if we overcome the effects of the trauma, Penny’s memory may not provide us with any significant details. We’ll have to wait and see.”

“Yes, of course.” She drew in a breath. “Thanks for keeping me focused.”

“You’ve been carrying a heavy load all by yourself, haven’t you?”

She nodded. “You don’t know how grateful I am that you’re willing to work with Penny. I’ll do anything to get my happy chatterbox back again.” She quickly turned away, and he suspected she hid eyes filled with tears.

Because of his own child, compassion for her heartache touched Steve and he fought an urge to reach over and take her hand. He had known from the first moment he saw her that she was a strong, determined woman, but he was only now beginning to glimpse how courageous she was.

“What kind of a sheriff is this guy Janson? Is he a good lawman?”

“On the whole, I’d say he’s as good as most sheriffs are. Tenacious. Stubborn. He’s like a bloodhound—only this time he’s following the wrong scent.” Her chin hardened. “I think Dillon’s just about convinced him that somewhere there’s proof I shot Ben.” The cords in her lovely neck tightened. “And your obvious next question, Doctor—is there proof?”

“Is there?”

“No, but I don’t blame you if you want to pack up and leave now that you know the situation.”

Do I really know the situation?

Deanna saw the question in his eyes, and turned away from it. How could she reassure him of anything? She’d searched every memory until it was threadbare, trying to find a rhyme or reason for what had happened.

Where had the horror begun?

And where would it end?

Chapter Four

Steve saw little of Deanna the next few days, and his sessions with Penny settled into a pattern. While Hobo bounded around the playroom, sniffing and wagging his scrawny tail, Penny wandered around listlessly, looking at everything but showing no desire to draw pictures or play in the sandbox or dollhouse.

Steve made certain that everything was in the same place every day. One of the hotel maids was careless about her cleaning, and was inclined to shove things around as she dusted and swept the floor, but Steve wanted the environment in the therapy room to be secure and unchanged.

Every day, after a few minutes of looking around, Penny walked over to the window, drew the drapes and then dropped onto the corner floor mat. Sometimes she would lie on her back and, with her eyes wide open, stare at the ceiling. Sometimes she would turn over on her side and watch Hobo as he snooped around the room. The dog was always interested in the snacks that Steve had ready on the low table, and pestered him for food.

“You like cookies, don’t you, Hobo?” When Steve spoke to him and patted his head, Hobo’s tail wagged as if it were going to drop off from excitement.

Knowing that Penny was watching, one morning Steve rolled a ball across the room and Hobo brought it back. They played fetch for several minutes, and Steve didn’t make any effort to include Penny in the game. In play therapy, the child made all the choices, and as frustrating as it might be, nothing could be gained by imposing choices upon Penny.

At the end of the first week of sessions, Penny still remained passive and hadn’t shown the slightest interest in anything in the playroom. He gave his usual smile to Deanna as she collected the child and dog, without giving any sign of the lack of progress he was making with her daughter.

He sighed as he opened the window drapes that Penny habitually closed. When he heard light footsteps just outside the open hall door a few minutes after Deanna had left with her daughter, he turned and saw that she was standing in the doorway.

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Sure. We’ve closed up shop for the weekend.”

It was the first time since his arrival at the hotel that she’d come anywhere near the playroom, and lately, every time he saw her around the hotel, she was too busy to do much chatting. “Want a cookie?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I just popped in for a minute, in case you wanted to tell me anything about…about the way Penny is responding.”

“I’m not sure I know how she’s responding. Not yet. Maybe you could clarify a few things for me?”

She nodded. “What would you like to know?”

“Does Penny seem to feel more comfortable in closed-in places with dim light and the window blinds drawn?”

Deanna looked puzzled. “Not at all. Where did you get that idea?”

“She doesn’t prefer the window drapes drawn in her room?”

Deanna shook her head. “Heavens no. Penny has a window seat in her bedroom and plays there all the time. Our whole apartment is light and airy. I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

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