“I think it’s time we had a look around,” Adam said

Jane nodded, leaning against one of the metal filing cabinets that clearly had seen better days. “Sure. I’ll give you the nickel tour…. Sorry we’re short on the kind of fancy stuff you must be used to.”

But she didn’t look sorry, Adam saw. No, she seemed more amused than anything, as if she was waiting with considerable relish for him to avow needing state-of-the-art technology. Rather than give her the satisfaction, he decided it was time to wipe off that faint smirk.

“What I’m used to doesn’t matter,” he replied bluntly. “What counts is whether I’ll agree to try and pull off a miracle by making this place profitable.”

Her lips, as free of makeup as the rest of her face, thinned in a flash. “Will you?”

Despite the tension between them as they traded glances, he kept his expression bland. “I don’t know yet. We still haven’t finished the nickel tour….”

Husband in Harmony

Sharon Swan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For the Phoenix Desert Rose and Valley of the Sun chapters

of RWA and their group of great writers,

with many thanks for the terrific support

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born and raised in Chicago, Sharon Swan once dreamed of dancing for a living. Instead, she surrendered to life’s more practical aspects, settled for an office job and concentrated on typing and being a big Chicago Bears fan. Sharon never seriously considered writing as a career until she moved to the Phoenix area and met Pierce Brosnan at a local shopping mall. The chance meeting changed her life, because she found herself thinking what if? What if two fictional characters had met the same way? That formed the basis for her first story, and she’s now cheerfully addicted to writing contemporary romance and playing what if?

Sharon loves to hear from readers. You can write her at P.O. Box 21324, Mesa, AZ 85277.

Books by Sharon Swan

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

912—COWBOYS AND CRADLES

928—HOME-GROWN HUSBAND

939—HUSBANDS, HUSBANDS…EVERYWHERE! *

966—FOUR-KARAT FIANCÉE

983—HER NECESSARY HUSBAND *

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 One

Adam Lassiter’s frown came fast and hard when he got his first good look at Glory Ridge Resort and Campground in the bright light of an Arizona summer day.

“Do you mean to tell me,” he said to the woman standing beside him, “that people actually pay to stay at this place?”

Jane Pitt stiffened, both at the words and the dry-as-dust tone, but managed not to answer in the same vein. She knew that giving as good as she got—normally her first response to any sort of confrontation—wouldn’t serve her best interests at the moment. However she might privately feel about slick business consultants who probably thought that slaving in a ritzy office was real work, she could put up with one if she had to.

And this one was slick as spit.

Fancy gray suit, fancy red tie, fancy black leather wing tips. Every long, lean inch of him shouted pricey.

“No one has paid to stay here lately,” Jane said with total honesty. She shoved her hands into the pockets of well-worn jeans and flicked her wheat-colored bangs aside with a shake of her head, reminding herself it was time to get the scissors out and whack some off. “That’s why I’m open to advice for changing the situation.”

“Free advice,” her companion pointed out in his low baritone voice. He gazed down at her with steely gray eyes, and for the umpteenth time in her life Jane wished she were taller. At five feet four and not much more than a hundred pounds dripping wet, looking as formidable as she would have liked was hard. But attitude could make a difference. She’d found that out early on.

“In exchange for a free stay at one of the cabins,” she countered. “I don’t want something for nothing.” She might not be big, but she had lots of pride.

His expression turned wary as he aimed another look at the small log cabins set against towering pines now rustled by a warm breeze. “Are there any safe enough to stay in? I’d hate to hear a roof collapsing on me in the middle of the night.”

“The roofs are sound.” She wouldn’t mention the leaks. “The whole place just needs some fixing up.”

“I’ll say.” He blew out a breath and ran a long-fingered hand through his dark, expertly cut hair. “From what I’ve seen, the best thing you’ve got going for you is the view.”

Jane switched around to take in a scene that would impress the most jaded of people. Low mountains encircled the small, sun-splashed city of Harmony, located a hundred winding miles northeast of Phoenix and its lower desert regions. Glory Ridge ran along the side of one of those mountains. The resort named after the ridge became part of the picture back when Harmony was a much younger version of itself.

“I grew up there, you know,” the man at her side said matter-of-factly.

“In Harmony?” Jane faced him again. “I figured you might have when the top guy at Hayward Investments recommended you. He said you were his cousin.” In fact, Ross Hayward, who she’d been told by people in the know was good for some guidance, had suggested that Adam Lassiter’s talents were just what she needed. She had to hope it was so.

“I grew up on a small ranch on the other side of this mountain,” she offered by way of information.

He nodded. “So you’re a native of the area, too. Hmm. I can’t say that I remember the name Pitt.”

“Probably because my family didn’t get into town much,” she allowed. She could have added that her father, with his gruff-as-a-bear nature, had never been eager to spend time in a city that prided itself on its friendliness. “I was homeschooled until my mother died after a short illness. By then, I was fourteen and ready for Harmony High.”

“You don’t appear to be much more than fourteen now,” he stated, casting a critical eye over her.

Jane stiffened again in an automatic reaction. “I’m double that, Mr. Lassiter.”

If he heard the irritation underscoring that statement, he ignored it. “My own family moved to the Phoenix area when I was still a kid,” he told her. “I’m thirty-four now—and it’s Adam.”

She couldn’t even imagine him as a boy. The man he’d become was far too self-assured.

“I go by just plain Jane,” she said, well aware that truer words had never been spoken. She was plain down to her toes, something her late father had pointed out on a regular basis. At the moment, she could hardly deny that Adam Lassiter, with all his polish, made her feel even plainer. Well, to heck with it, Jane thought. She was what she was.

Adam caught the swift squaring of slender shoulders covered by a checked cotton shirt. He knew the woman he viewed was a long way from thrilled with him—had known it almost from the minute he’d pulled into the parking lot a short distance from the largest cabin in the group, which seemed to serve as the resort’s headquarters. After one clearly unimpressed glance at his low-slung sports car, her hazel eyes had fixed on him as she’d walked over to introduce herself, stray strands of her short hair ruffling in the wind. And what he’d seen in her gaze could hardly be called approval.

Not that he should care one way or the other. And not that he’d even be here if he didn’t have his own agenda. Whether he decided to take Jane Pitt up on her offer would depend on how much it suited his goals as well as hers.

“I think it’s time for a better look around,” he said.

She nodded. “Sure, I’ll give you the nickel tour.”

Which was all a tour might wind up being worth, Adam reflected. He had to admit that he’d been thrown off balance by what he’d seen so far. For all the beauty of the surrounding area, no one with eyes could deny that the resort was in sad shape—a lot sadder shape than he’d bargained on. “Should we start here?” he asked, keeping his tone mild as he indicated the larger cabin with a slant of his head. “I assume that’s where the office is.”

“Right.” Jane led the way down a short gravel path, then up a step and across a narrow covered porch. She tugged open an old screen door and stepped inside.

Adam followed her into a room bordered by thick log walls and saw mostly what he’d expected to see. The scene gave, he thought, a whole new meaning to the phrase no frills. Nothing had probably been altered much from the time the place was first built. A long counter, the green tiles topping it scarred with age, stood at one side of the room and an ancient refrigerator at the other.

Jane glanced over at him. “Want a can of cold pop?”

He would have preferred bottled water, but he only nodded. Something told him you took what you could get with this woman. “I can help myself,” he said.

For the first time, she smiled a faint smile, showing a hint of small white teeth. “Good. I like a man who doesn’t expect to be waited on.”

Adam let that comment hang and started for the refrigerator. When he opened it he found several varieties of soda sharing space with two large coffee cans. “Looks as though someone has a caffeine habit.”

“I like it as well as the next person,” Jane said, “but one of those cans happens to be home to some worms.”

Adam resisted the urge to grimace—he had a hunch that would please her far too much. Instead, he calmly chose a can of cola and closed the refrigerator.

“Ever been worm hunting…Adam?” she asked, using his given name for the first time.

“Not lately…Jane,” he replied, and popped the can open. He didn’t miss the amused glint in her eye as he took a long swallow. Okay, so he hadn’t gone digging for fish bait since he was a kid, and even then he hadn’t done it that often. If he wanted to be candid, he could tell her that he wasn’t much of an outdoorsman—not the kind who would find this type of setting familiar, at any rate. But why admit it? If he decided to stay here, she’d probably discover it soon enough.

He glanced toward another doorway. “Is that the office?”

“Uh-huh.” She started past him, her low brown boots scraping on the slatted wood floor. “Next stop on the tour.”

Now he did grimace. The office was a far cry from the spacious suite he shared with a tax specialist and an investment counselor on the upper floor of a chrome and glass building in downtown Phoenix. Here, modern efficiency obviously didn’t rule. In fact, it was nowhere in sight.

Both the small pine desk and tall metal filing cabinets had seen better days. Two chairs and a short table holding an empty coffeemaker—all of which might be judged antiques by some and junk by others—completed the furnishings. In the stark light streaming in through a bare window, everything appeared so much a part of the past that the contemporary phone and answering machine combination resting on the desk seemed out of place. The best thing he would say about the room was that it, like the outer room, was clean. Working up a shine would be hard, but dirt and dust had clearly been dealt with.

“Sorry we’re short on the kind of fancy stuff you must be used to,” Jane said as she leaned a shoulder against one of the cabinets.

But she didn’t look sorry, Adam saw with a sidelong glance. No, she still seemed more amused than anything, as if she were waiting with considerable relish for him to avow needing state-of-the-art technology. Rather than giving her that satisfaction, he decided it was time to wipe off that faint smirk.

“What I’m used to doesn’t matter,” he replied bluntly, turning to meet her eyes. “What counts is whether I’ll agree to try and pull off a miracle by making this place profitable.”

Her lips, as free of any makeup as the rest of her face, thinned in a flash. “Will you?”

Despite the thick tension between them as they traded stares, he kept his gaze bland. “I don’t know yet. We still haven’t finished the nickel tour.”

SHE STARTED the next leg of the tour with the word miracle still ringing in her mind. Was that what she expected Adam Lassiter to pull off? He’d just said so in no uncertain terms, and maybe he was right, Jane had to concede, even though his candor had spiked her blood pressure.

After all, she’d known from the day she’d become determined to put the resort back on the map that it wouldn’t be easy. But that didn’t mean she intended to give up. Not hardly.

“How did you wind up the owner of this place?” Adam asked as they strolled toward the weathered log cabin closest to the office. Like its fellow cabins, it had a name. The rough wooden sign over the narrow front doorway declared this one to be Squirrel Hollow.

“My great-aunt left it to me when she passed away this spring,” Jane explained.

He slid her a probing sidelong glance. Apparently, he caught at least a trace of sadness in her calm expression, one born of the recent loss of someone she’d both admired and been so fond of, because he said, “I’m sorry.”

Jane climbed two short steps up to a narrow porch that held a spindled rocker dulled by age. “Thanks,” she told him. “I appreciate the thought. Although,” she added with typical frankness, “I have to admit that Maude Pitt would be the last person to invite anyone to mourn her. She’d say that she lived a good life doing exactly what she wanted to do. Which was run this place as she saw fit without wasting time taking orders from the male half of the population.”

“Hmm.” Adam slid another glance her way. This time it was one more rueful than probing. “Why am I thinking that you take after her?”

A wry smile tugged at her lips. “Because I just might in some ways, I suppose. I started helping out around here when I was still a child. Even though she was hardly the motherly type—she’d never had much desire to marry and raise a bunch of kids—Maude taught me a lot.” And provided a refuge from a family situation by no means always happy, Jane reflected.

What would she have done had she not been able to ride her bike over the mountain and Maude and Mother Nature had not taken her to another, far less quarrelsome, world? Jane didn’t have an answer for that question. She could only be grateful that Glory Ridge Resort and Campground had been there for her at a time when she’d needed it most.

It hadn’t taken her long as a young girl to fall in love with the place, that was for sure. And she still loved it, even though it had only continued to slide downhill during her aunt’s declining years.

That was why she was willing to deal with slick consultants—even one who might be the slickest of the bunch.

“This cabin will give you an idea of what the rest are like,” Jane said, opening the screen door, then the simple wood door behind it. She didn’t say that this was the best of the lot, although it was. It had two bedrooms. And no leaks in the roof. At least, she’d seen no signs of any.

Adam didn’t hesitate to investigate, checking out the small living room with adjoining kitchen and even smaller bedrooms—themselves large compared with the tiny bath.

“So it doesn’t get any better than this,” he said at last with a gusty sigh, clearly intimating that the cabin had seen few changes during the past several decades.

“That’s right,” she replied.

In fact, it got worse. Many of the cabins, including the one she occupied a stone’s throw away, had a single bedroom and a roof sporting at least a few holes. Still, the place she called home these days suited her, leaks and all. Like her great-aunt before her, she happily traded the comforts many considered a part of everyday living for the chance to experience another sort of life entirely. But this man…

“If you decide to stay,” she told Adam, “you can have this cabin. It’s not the Ritz—”

“You can say that again,” he muttered.

“But,” she said, forging on, “it has hot water, thanks to an electric water heater, and the stove, refrigerator and all the lights around the place work fine.”

She didn’t bother to point out that the appliances were downsized versions, a necessity rather than a choice with space at a premium; or that the overhead light fixtures and scattered lamps were a lot more functional than fancy. Not to mention that the rest of the cabin’s furnishings, including the sturdy pine living-room chairs with the faded plaid cushions, could be termed “old-fashioned rustic”—a definite emphasis on old. But Adam Lassiter had taken note of all of that, she recognized, though he started for the porch without saying as much. Or saying anything.

Once they were outside again, Jane resumed her role of tour guide with dogged determination. “Quail Lake is this way,” she said, and began to stride down a winding path through the trees. “A creek that feeds into it circles through the middle of the resort before it ends at the lake,” she explained. Moments later they came to an arched wooden bridge just wide enough to allow two people to cross side by side.

“I assume this is the creek, even though it doesn’t seem to be feeding water into anything at the moment,” Adam said, looking over a short, slatted railing at a hollowed-out patch of rocky ground.

“That’s why it’s called Dry Creek,” she told him. “It’s only wet when it rains enough higher up in the mountains to fill it with some of the run off. Then it can hold anywhere from a trickle to several feet of water. I even recall Aunt Maude saying that it overflowed its banks once.”

More cabins lined the path on the other side of the bridge. “Jackrabbit Junction,” Adam murmured, reading the sign on the first cabin they came to. Behind it, another was barely visible at the top of a small hill. “What’s that one called?” he asked.

“Eagle’s Nest.” Jane matched her stride to his, something she had to work at since her legs were nowhere near as long as Adam Lassiter’s.

“I suppose that fits,” he allowed.

The last cabin on the tour was Angler’s Lair, located only yards from Quail Lake. A bird whistled high overhead as Jane led the way down to her favorite spot at Glory Ridge, and in a matter of moments they were standing close enough to hear the gentle slap of water against a winding, grassy shore.

“Well, this is another plus for the place,” Adam acknowledged as he stared out at the deep blue lake sparkling in the sunshine.

He hadn’t spared more than a glance at the rickety dock and the old rowboats tied there, some with outboard motors. No, right now the quiet lake, looking much as it probably had when the first settlers arrived, drew his attention, as it always drew hers.

“Quail Lake is a long way from being the biggest body of water in the region,” she said, “but it’s got to be the most beautiful.”

“You could be right,” he told her. “Is it part of the resort property?”

“Yes. The fact that the lake is privately owned has always been a plus, because fishermen don’t have to invest in a license to try their luck here.”

“Still, a lot of them have decided to try their luck elsewhere,” he said, shifting his gaze from the lake to her. And who could blame them? an ironic slant of his chiseled mouth seemed to add.

Refusing to bristle again, Jane opted for the simple truth. “Several other resorts targeting not only the fishing crowd but hikers and other outdoor types have opened in the area during the past several years, and since their facilities are newer, it’s taken its toll.”

He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. “But you still want to make a go of this place.”

Although it was a statement rather than a question, Jane answered. “I do. I have some of Aunt Maude’s life insurance money left, plus what I’ve managed to save by taking whatever work I could find in Harmony, in addition to working here. It’s a considerable sum—or it is to me.”

Because tiptoeing around any subject had seldom been her style, Jane went on to disclose her current balance at the town’s largest bank. It was probably nowhere near a successful consultant’s bank account. Nevertheless, it had one of Adam’s eyebrows lifting.

“I guess you know how to save money,” he said.

She dipped her head in a brisk nod. “I don’t usually spend much on myself.”

For an instant, his eyes raked her from head to toe. She could all but hear him thinking, That’s obvious. However, he said only, “Well, it’s definitely enough to give you a good start on making some changes around here.”

Changes Jane was ready to make. Finally. Maude, for all her talent at plain talk, had put off discussing any improvements, even though her great-niece had pressed her more than once. The delay had served no purpose but to send still more outdoorsmen off to other places to spend their money. It was time—past time, Jane knew—to act.

“What I need now is some savvy advice on what changes would appeal to the most customers,” she said. Her gaze met Adam’s. “Will you take me up on my offer?”

He studied her for a long moment. “I just might…provided you can meet my conditions. One, actually.”

A condition? That was the first she’d heard of anything along those lines. “And what would that be?” Jane asked carefully.

“If I decide to act as your consultant, I want to bring my son with me when I come back to stay here.”

She was surprised and knew it showed. Somehow, she hadn’t imagined this man with children. Or a wife, for that matter. Despite telling herself on first seeing him that she wasn’t interested one way or the other, she’d noticed that he wore no wedding ring. He’d probably noticed the same thing about her—and not that he cared, either.

Jane arched a brow. “How, uh, old is your son?”

“Eight. His name is Sam.” Adam shoved his hands into the pockets of his crisply pressed trousers. “Although I share custody with my ex-wife, Sam stays with her most of the year and spends his summers with me. After Ariel and I divorced a few years ago, she moved back to Boston, where she grew up.”

He had—or used to have—a wife named Ariel? Talk about fancy, Jane thought. Then again, it only made sense that this man would have chosen a far-from-average woman as his bride. “How did your son wind up being called Sam?” she had to ask. Bestowing such a simple name seemed out of character for parents who were hardly ordinary.

“Actually, it’s Samuel Lawrence, after both his grandfathers,” Adam explained.

“I see.” She paused. “Is he here in Arizona now?”

Adam nodded. “He’s spending the day with my folks, who live in Scottsdale.”

Oh, right. Jane did a mental eye roll. Of course his parents would live in Scottsdale, one of the ritziest sections of Phoenix. She’d never been to Scottsdale. Or anywhere else, she had to admit. But that didn’t mean she was pining to see the world. She truly wasn’t. She was content—more than content—where she was.

“I suppose,” she allowed, “if a boy likes the outdoors, he might enjoy spending a summer in the mountains.”

“Sam was raised in the city, as I was,” Adam said after the briefest of hesitations. With that, he looked back out at the lake and let the subject drop.

Jane frowned. To her, his short statement only brought up more questions. One major question, at any rate: why was he set on bringing his city-raised son to a place the boy might not even like? Although this time she won the battle with her curiosity and didn’t ask, something told her that there was more to the matter.

“Well, you’re welcome to have him come with you,” she said, “if you decide to stay here.”

Adam ran his tongue over his teeth, realizing it was time to make up his mind. If he didn’t have his own agenda to consider, he might tell Jane Pitt thanks but no thanks. For all that he’d been raised in a well-to-do family, he’d never been leery of working hard and tackling a challenge in the process. In fact, he had worked damn hard to get where he was in the business world.

Nevertheless, while his bid for success had paid off for himself and his clients, the blunt fact of the matter was that Glory Ridge Resort just might prove to be the exception. Despite his past track record and the substantial money the current owner was ready to invest, could the place ever be counted on to turn a consistent profit given the increased competition she’d indicated had sprung up in the area?

It would take more than money, he suspected. If he was right, it would take an idea, a pitch, a twist on the usual, to grab the public’s attention and draw people to this place. Hell, maybe it would take a miracle.

Whatever the case, since he had his own reasons for spending some time in a quiet, out-of-the-way spot—and he couldn’t think of a quieter, more out-of-the-way spot than this pine-strewn mountain—he felt compelled to give helping Jane Pitt with her objectives a try.

“Okay, I’ll take you up on your offer.” He turned his head and dropped his gaze to look straight at the woman beside him. “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, with my son.”

She stared up at him, her calm expression betraying little of her feelings at that news. “Good,” she said after a moment. “I’ll get your cabin ready for you.”

He’d be living in a cabin called Squirrel Hollow. Adam suppressed a wince at the thought that it was probably as far from his upscale modern condo in Phoenix as he would ever get. “I don’t imagine it has a telephone hookup,” he said as they started back the way they’d come, feet crunching on the gravel path.

“Nope. Only phone line is at the office, but as the crow flies we’re near enough to Harmony for cell phones to work. I assume you’ve got one.”

“Yes.” He didn’t go on to say that he also had all his important contact information programmed into his Palm Pilot. No matter where he was, he could generally reach his clients and business associates with little trouble. “I was thinking more of a place to hook up my laptop,” he explained. “I’ll need to do some research online while I’m here. I guess I’ll have to tie up the office line to get it done.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Well, it’s not as if people are phoning nonstop to make reservations.” Her mouth drooped at one corner. “I just have to hope the situation changes down the road.”

“I intend to do my best to accomplish that,” Adam said, and meant it.

“Looks as if we’re about to join forces,” she replied in a voice that held more than its share of irony, as though she were reflecting on the fact that they made one odd couple indeed.

He could hardly deny it. The truth was, he’d never met a woman quite like Jane Pitt. He knew he ruffled her feathers, just as he knew she’d come to the conclusion that she needed his help in spite of it. They said that politics made strange bedfellows, but so did other situations.

Not that he was planning on luring Jane Pitt into his bed. Even though he hadn’t taken advantage of the comforts only a willing female could provide in a while, he’d have to be a lot dumber than he was to make a move on Jane. Handling a woman as prickly as she was, even on a business basis, would take some doing. On a private basis, a man who attempted a false step with her could wind up getting his head wrenched off and handed back to him for his trouble. Jane Pitt might be on the small side, but she’d pack a wallop when she wanted to. After less than an hour’s acquaintance, he was sure on that score.

“I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what time I’ll be here,” he told her minutes later on reaching the spot outside the resort’s office where they’d first met.

“All right.” Again her calm expression revealed little. “Have a good drive back.”

He started to extend his right arm for the handshake they’d foregone on his arrival. Then he stilled completely as he caught sight of an animal ambling out from between two trees. He might not be an avid outdoorsman, but he knew what it was. And that knowledge had his breath catching in his throat.

“Don’t move,” he said in a rough whisper.

“Why?” Jane asked, and then turned her head to follow his gaze. “Oh, it’s only Sweet Pea.”

“It’s a skunk, for Pete’s sake.” And it was coming closer as he watched, strolling along as though it had plenty of time to get where it was going.

“A full-grown female skunk, as it happens,” Jane said mildly. “Don’t worry. She’s by and large harmless. My great-aunt found that out when she stumbled across her one day and didn’t get sprayed. Apparently, Sweet Pea started life as a domesticated animal. At least, that was the vet’s opinion, since she’d been descented and neutered before she somehow wound up here. Anyway, she settled right in and became more or less a pet.”

A pet skunk. Jeez, it was time to leave. Adam whipped around and started for his car. He got in, snapped the gleaming door shut and pulled out with a final wave. His last sight of Jane Pitt was in the rearview mirror as she watched him depart, her slender hands planted on her hips. He’d soon be back, he thought, negotiating a narrow mountain road. And heaven only knows what he’d have to deal with then.

“I MANAGED TO WAIT until he was out of sight before I started hooting,” Jane confided to her companions the following day. “Sweet Pea had Adam Lassiter moving his long legs toward his sleek sports car at a fast clip, let me tell you.” The memory had her grinning widely.

Jane’s younger sister, Ellen, who’d always been the pretty one in the Pitt family, met her sibling’s eyes in the long mirror stretched across one wall of the Cuts ‘N Curls beauty salon. “Are you sure he’ll be back?” she asked, her lips curving with clear amusement.

“Yeah, he’ll be back.” Folding her arms over the front of her well-washed white T-shirt, Jane propped one denim-clad hip against the round work island holding her sister’s tools of the trade. “He called this morning and said he and his son should get to Glory Ridge shortly after lunch tomorrow.”

“I remember Adam Lassiter as a boy,” Ellen’s current client offered from her seat in a high chrome swivel chair.

Neither Ellen nor Jane expressed any surprise at that news. Unlike many people born and raised in the area, the sisters had never been members of Hester Goodbody’s first grade class at the biggest of Harmony’s elementary schools. Nevertheless, it was far from a secret that the now-retired teacher recalled her past students with a memory still sharp at the advanced age of eighty-plus.

“What kind of boy was he, Miss Hester?” Jane’s curiosity had her asking. She’d used both the courteous title and the respectful tone most people summoned when talking to this woman.

“A charmer,” Miss Hester didn’t hesitate to reply. “But intelligent, as well. I’m hardly amazed that he went on to achieve success.”

Jane couldn’t honestly say she’d seen the charm. But the intelligence? Yes, she had no doubt that her new consultant was smart and shrewd. “We’ll see if he can put all that brainpower to good advantage and come up with something that will help the resort.”

Miss Hester’s blue eyes, framed by gold-rimmed glasses, sparkled with good-natured humor. “It should be interesting to see how you two get along.”

Ellen gave her customer’s wispy silver hair a final pat. “We’re done,” she said, removing a cream-colored cloth cape that fit right in with the peach and cream décor chosen by the salon’s original owner. Although the shop hadn’t been around as long as a few of the oldest businesses in downtown Harmony, it had nonetheless occupied its prime location on Main Street for some time.

Miss Hester viewed her reflection in the mirror. “A wonderful job, as always,” she told Ellen. The petite woman, who was inches shorter than even Jane’s slight height, hopped nimbly off the chair.

“Best of luck on your project,” she added to Jane before following Ellen to the front desk to pay her bill.

Jane’s nose wrinkled at the smell of the permanent-wave solution another operator was using on a customer farther down the room. The long-ago summer she herself had earned extra money as a shampoo girl in this very place had been pure torture, Jane recalled. Her sister, on the other hand, was at home here, pursuing a career she was both good at and genuinely enjoyed.

“You messed with your bangs again, didn’t you?” Ellen accused as she returned, sliding tip money into a pocket of her bright peach smock. A frown of exasperation marred a smooth forehead topped by a shiny crown of frosted blond curls.

“I whacked a little off last night,” Jane admitted. She glanced at her handiwork in the mirror. “They don’t look too bad.”

Ellen’s sigh was long and heartfelt. “They’re crooked.”

Jane shrugged. “They’re out of my eyes, and that’s what counts.”

Shaking her head, Ellen said, “Why do I even bother caring?”

“Because you love me,” Jane replied with a smile, sure of her words. She had no doubt that she’d loved, and been truly loved by, three women in her life: her gentle mother, her straight-talking great-aunt and her only sister. She’d lost two of those women, but Ellen, who now had a husband and a growing son, could still be counted on to care—always.

Confirming it, Ellen dipped her chin in a quick nod. “Which means I’m not going to stop trying to whip you into shape.” She picked up a bottle of styling mousse. “If you’ll just let me fluff your hair out a little and put some spray on, it’ll help.”

Jane took a swift step back and held up her hands. “I hate that stuff. It makes me sneeze.”

Ellen stepped forward. “Sometimes you have to suffer in the name of beauty.”

Again Jane backed away, her boots scraping softly on the checkered tile floor. “I wouldn’t wind up anywhere near a beauty if you sprayed the whole can on me.”

Her taller and curvier sister raised a well-arched brow. “As I’ve told you I don’t know how many times, you could look better—a lot better—if you’d take some pointers from me.”

“I’m happy as I am,” Jane said firmly. Maybe there were times she couldn’t help but wish she bore at least a passing resemblance to some of the models featured on the covers of glossy magazines like those strewn about the salon’s waiting area. But seeing a model’s face in her own mirror was a fantasy, she realized. The reality of the situation—her reality—was that nature had dealt her a far different hand.

Ellen set the can down. “Defeated again,” she grumbled.

“You’ll survive,” Jane told her in a bolstering tone.

“Uh-huh.” Ellen met her sister’s gaze. “But how will you fare tangling with a good-looking consultant?”

It was Jane’s turn to frown. “I didn’t say he was good-looking.”

“You didn’t have to,” Ellen said with a knowing glint in her deep green eyes, “because I remember what you told me before you even got a glimpse of him—that he’s related to one of Harmony’s founding families. His last name might be Lassiter, but he’s also part Hayward, and all the Haywards are attractive.”

“Maybe he’s the exception.”

“Is he?”

“No,” Jane had to concede. “He’s attractive enough…if you like the dressed-for-success type.”

“The type you’ve never had much experience dealing with before,” Ellen pointed out.

“Which doesn’t mean I can’t handle it—and him.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Ellen murmured, her expression becoming thoughtful. “I do believe Miss Hester was right. It’ll be real interesting to see how the two of you handle each other.”

Privately, Jane thought so, too, and despite her outward show of bravado, inwardly she wasn’t quite so certain of being able to hold her own. It was a good thing—a double-darn good thing, she told herself—that she had one big advantage. However much time she and Adam Lassiter spent together this summer, they would spend it on her turf. Not his. Still, for as much comfort as that brought, her worries remained centered on one question.

Would Glory Ridge survive?

Chapter Two

Adam flicked off the air conditioner and rolled down the windows of the blue hatchback sedan he’d rented. “Smell that pine-scented air,” he said in a hearty tone. It sounded a little forced, but at least he was making an effort to hold a conversation, which was more than his son had done since they’d left busy Phoenix behind them.

“Uh-huh,” Sam said, and scrunched lower in his seat.

Even then Adam noted that his son’s head, topped by short, light-brown hair, came up higher than it had a year earlier. That was the first thing he’d recognized on picking Sam up at the airport less than two weeks ago—how he’d grown. Not long afterward, the second truth to hit was that their mostly long-distance relationship was taking its toll. He and Sam were losing the connection that had been uniquely theirs from the day Adam had first held a red-faced baby in his arms.

That realization had shaken him badly. He could still recall the chill it had sent sliding down his spine.

“I know you’re not thrilled about postponing Disneyland to come up here,” Adam said, deciding to tackle the issue before they got to their destination. “The thing is, we’ve been there more than once, and spending some time in the mountains will be a first for you.” Plus spending some quiet time together instead of the usual round of summer activities I turned to in an effort to entertain you might do us both some good, he thought.

“Uh-huh,” Sam muttered again, patently unenthused by the prospect of a get-acquainted session with the great outdoors.

Okay, so maybe his son wasn’t the only one who was failing to work up much enthusiasm in that regard, Adam conceded. They were both roughing it anyway. He might be wrong about this being his best chance to reestablish a closer bond between them, but it was worth a shot. Right now, he had to believe that.

“What did your mother have to say when you phoned her this morning?” Adam asked in another bid to keep the conversation going. He had no intention of mentioning that he’d spent a good part of the past several nights staring up at the ceiling and wondering if his ex-wife’s recent remarriage could somehow be a factor in the wall his son had built around himself.

Sam tapped the heels of his running shoes together. “She said I should be careful playing in the woods.” He paused. “She didn’t sound so good.”

Adam frowned and glanced toward the passenger’s seat. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, Sam said, “Like maybe she was a little sick or something.”

“Well, she could have caught a bug, I suppose.” Adam slowed to negotiate a sharp turn in a road winding steadily upward. “You know you can call her on my cell phone whenever you want to while we’re away, but I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Your mother’s always taken good care of herself and eaten healthy foods, even when she’s dieting.”

“I think she eats more than she used to,” Sam offered after a beat. “I heard her say something about buying bigger clothes.”

Ariel? Letting her model-slim figure go? Adam had a hard time imagining that. Still, he said nothing. What he’d really like to discuss was Sam’s relationship with his new stepfather, but something told him he wouldn’t win any real confidences, not yet, and the last thing he wanted was pat answers.

“Speaking of clothes,” he said, “how do those jeans feel?”

“Okay, I guess.” Sam looked down at one of three pairs of blue jeans bought during a whirlwind trip through the mall the day before. “They’re sort of stiff.”

“They won’t be once they’re washed,” Adam assured him. The same applied to his own dark Levi’s and black denim shirt, he imagined, both of which bore little resemblance to the knit shirts and cotton slacks he favored as casual clothing. His new boots would need some breaking in, too. But a few days of trekking through the pines would take care of that, even though he had always preferred jogging on the track at his health club to hiking anywhere—much less through a forest. Nevertheless, he would do it—with his son at his side.

“Once we get our bearings, we’ll be glad we added to our wardrobe. We’ll hike our way through the woods and do a fine job of it,” Adam contended with a determined set of his jaw.

“Uh-huh,” Sam muttered one more time with clear misgivings as they reached the faded wooden sign pointing the way to Glory Ridge Resort and Campground.

In a matter of minutes Adam brought the sedan to a stop in the gravel lot next to the resort’s office. Only feet away stood the dusty red pickup belonging to the resort’s owner, which had been parked there on his earlier visit. “We’re here,” he said.

Sam sat up straight and glanced out through the windshield. In the next breath, his jaw dropped like a stone. “Dad, there’s a skunk on the porch!”

Dad. For a silent moment Adam closed his eyes in sheer gratefulness at hearing that word from his son’s lips—a word he’d been waiting for ever since Sam had stepped off the airplane looking more wary than happy to see his father. Right this minute, he could only be glad—damn glad—that he’d made the decision to come to a place so foreign to both of them.

“It’s okay,” he said. “The skunk is basically harmless, I’m told.”

Moving with caution despite that assurance, Sam stuck his head out the car window. “I don’t smell nothing.”

“You don’t smell anything,” Adam said, automatically correcting his son, “because the skunk doesn’t have the usual equipment.”

“You mean he’s lost his stinker?”

“Actually, it’s a she,” Adam explained, “and yes, she’s lost her, uh, stinker.”

“Boy, the guys in school will never believe this.” Sam looked back at Adam. “Can I take a picture?”

“Sure.”

The one thing Sam seemed genuinely enthusiastic about these days was the camera his father had sent him for Christmas. At least you did well there, Lassiter, Adam told himself. He got out of the car, then walked around to open Sam’s door. The little boy grabbed his camera from the back seat and hopped to the ground.

The skunk calmly waddled down the steps and approached the new arrivals. “Her name is Sweet Pea,” Adam said dryly.

Sam carefully aimed his camera and took a picture, after which Sweet Pea gave both males a brief sniff and strolled off toward the trees. “You were right,” the eight-year-old whispered, watching the animal’s departure, “this place is like nowhere I’ve ever been.”

Adam didn’t add that Sam was about to meet a woman who probably bore little resemblance to anyone he’d ever met, either. He set a hand gently on his son’s shoulder and urged him toward the cabin. “Let’s see if the owner is in her office.”

Sam glanced around him as they climbed the porch steps. “Does she like living all the way out here?”

“Yes, she does,” Adam replied, sure of his words.

“Why?”

“Because she’s different from the kind of people who prefer living in towns and cities.”

Sam sighed mournfully. “Maybe she thinks it’s okay, but I bet there’s nowhere close around to even get the kinda hamburgers and fries I like.”

Adam recognized this reference to his son’s favorite fast-food restaurant, where they’d stopped for lunch before heading for the wilds of the mountains. “No, I’m afraid not,” he said.

Sam’s dark mood, lightened by the unexpected sight of Sweet Pea, seemed to return as he sighed again.

JANE STOOD IN THE rear of the cabin, surveying what she considered a job well done. She’d just completed rearranging the furniture to transform the room into an office for two. One of twin swivel chairs that continued to creak despite her liberal use of oil stood behind the small desk that had been cleared of everything but an antique brass banker’s lamp. The other chair sat behind an old card table, set up to face the desk and hold the combination answering machine and phone. Her consultant now had a desk at his disposal and could hook up to the phone line whenever he needed to, she thought with satisfaction, turning to welcome her guests with a polite smile when the cabin door opened. Her smile swiftly widened as she took in Adam Lassiter dressed in an obviously brand-new outfit, looking a long way from comfortable in crisp black denim.

Out of his element, she reflected with amusement.

Not that he wasn’t still attractive. He was. But he no longer appeared so self-assured, and that somehow pleased her, honesty forced her to admit.

“I was expecting you about now,” she said. For a moment her gaze met his across the room. Then she dropped it to the boy standing at his father’s side. Stepping forward, she held out a hand. “I’m Jane Pitt. We don’t waste much time using last names around here, so feel free to call me Jane.”

“I’m Sam,” the child replied after a beat, and placed his hand in hers for a brief handshake. Although his hair was shades lighter than Adam’s, his gray eyes were a duplicate of the man who had fathered him. “I already met your skunk. I heard she lost her stinker.”

Jane nodded. “That’s right. Only thing to smell around here is the pines.” And a whiff of men’s cologne, she added to herself. The fancy suit might be gone, but he still wore an expensive sandalwood scent. Taking a short step back, she studied the two males staring at her. “I’ve got your cabin all ready for you.”

“I never stayed in a cabin before,” Sam confided.

And he didn’t seem too happy about staying in one now, Jane noted. She didn’t miss the fact that his jeans were as brand-new as his father’s. They’d probably gone on a hasty shopping trip to get ready for their visit to Glory Ridge.

Why, she had to ask herself one more time, had Adam decided to bring his son here? Again no ready answer came to mind. Yet, whatever his reasons, they’d arrived as promised—which suited her purposes, Jane reminded herself. So there was no sense wasting time puzzling about it.

“Staying in a cabin could be fun,” she told Sam. “You can pretend you’re back in an earlier time.”

Sam’s mouth drooped at the corners. “They didn’t have any rockets or spaceships back then.” And rockets and spaceships were what fired this boy’s imagination. Both his expression and the colorful images on his Star Wars T-shirt testified to that.

“Well, let’s get unpacked,” Adam said, his deep voice underscored with resignation, as though he believed Jane was fighting a losing battle in trying to put an upbeat slant on the situation.

Abandoning her effort, she followed them out the door. She smiled wryly when her gaze landed on the car parked in the lot. “No sleek black sports model today, hmm?” she murmured to Adam as Sam headed down the porch steps.

“I thought it would be smarter to rent something else. Besides, there wasn’t room for our luggage and the rest of the stuff I had to bring.”

She recalled yesterday’s phone conversation, during which she’d reminded him that he’d have to provide for his personal needs while he was at the resort. Glory Ridge had plenty of sporting equipment for guests to use, but… “I hope you remembered that meals aren’t a part of the deal.”

He looked down at her. “I brought some food to cook—don’t worry.”

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Can you cook?” She’d willingly bet that this man had grown up with a housekeeper to fix the family meals.

“I get by,” he told her. And that was all he said before he started for his car.

Jane shrugged. Whether he could cook was hardly her concern. “I’d be glad to give you a hand getting settled in,” she offered, as she would to any guest.

Adam kept on moving. “Okay,” he said, tossing the word over his shoulder. At the moment, he had to admit he was far from sure how he felt about Glory Ridge’s owner. He knew she was amused by the fact that surroundings so familiar to her were strange to him—just as she had been on the day they’d met. But he also knew that she’d attempted to make his son welcome, so he supposed he’d try not to let her amusement annoy him.

Besides, he thought with satisfaction, once they got down to business, his considerable experience in dealing with a world mostly foreign to her would display his talents. Even if he couldn’t pull off a miracle with Glory Ridge, he’d at least show her a thing or two.

Adam opened the hatchback trunk and pulled out two suitcases, plus twin canvas backpacks, the store tags still on. He handed the backpacks to Sam, then pushed aside two paper shopping bags filled with food and hefted a large cooler into his arms. “If you’ll take the grocery bags,” he told Jane, “I’ll come back for the suitcases.”

“I can take the suitcases,” she told him.

“They’re heavy,” he said. “Leave them for me to handle.”

She planted her hands on slender hips once again covered by battered blue denim and met his gaze. “I can handle them, trust me. I’m stronger—a lot stronger—than I look.”

“Well, nature usually favoring the male of the species,” he said with undeniable relish, “I’m even stronger than you are, so leave the suitcases for me.” With that, he stared her down until she retrieved the grocery bags and started up the gravel path to the cabins, Sam following a step behind.

Feeling better at having won that last round, Adam brought up the rear. Even his new boots felt better, he acknowledged with the beginnings of a smile. But that faint smile disappeared as he approached the cabin and got another look at the place where he and his son would be sleeping, bathing and eating.

Although he hadn’t gone into details earlier, he did know how to cook. In fact, since his divorce and return to single status, he’d become a man who could hold his own in the kitchen. Trouble was, none of his specialties—acclaimed by his occasional dinner guests—seemed to tempt the taste buds of a growing boy, so he and Sam usually went out to eat or brought something in.

Not that he was feeling guilty about his failure to produce homemade meals to meet his son’s tastes. Sam probably didn’t get much homemade fare back in Boston, either. Ariel had certainly never been keen on doing much cooking.

Adam blew out a breath. No, he wouldn’t feel guilty. He just wished they stood a chance of getting a pizza delivered out here every now and then—and knew they didn’t.

“Why is that old sign nailed over the door?” Sam asked.

“Because Squirrel Hollow is the name of this cabin,” Jane explained. “It’s been called that from the day it was first built.”

Sam conducted a short study and shook his head sadly. “That must’ve been a long time ago.”

“Yes,” she acknowledged mildly. “Want to get the screen door? Your father and I sort of have our hands full.”

Silent now, Sam slowly climbed the steps, as though headed toward a harsh fate. He held the screen door ajar, then stood back as Adam and Jane entered.

“I left the other door and the windows open to air the place out,” she said.

Adam could hardly argue the wisdom of that plan, or that the breeze drifting through the place felt good, especially after leaving the hot desert regions to the south. “You can put the backpacks on one of the chairs by the fireplace,” he said to Sam. Then he strode to the kitchen area adjoining the living room and set the cooler on the tiled counter.

“I can start unloading the groceries if you want to show Sam the rest of the place,” Jane suggested.

“All right.” Adam brushed his palms on his Levi’s. “Let’s check it out,” he told his son, and walked beside the boy toward the back of the cabin.

“This is where I’ll be sleeping,” he said as they poked their heads into the bigger of the two bedrooms. There a sturdy pine bed and small nightstand shared space with a mirror-topped dresser, also made of rough-hewn pine, that stood midway between a single bare window and a narrow closet.

“And this will be your room,” he added moments later as they inspected the second bedroom, slightly smaller than the first. It, too, had a pine dresser, and a bunk bed with a short ladder propped against it to reach the upper bunk.

“You get to decide whether to sleep on the top or bottom.” Once again Adam tried for an enthusiastic tone, but his effort fell flat, met by a strained silence.

Finally, Sam walked in, dragging his feet every step of the way, and tossed his camera on the plaid wool blanket covering the lower bunk. “I’ll take this one, I guess.”

“Good.” Adam felt a stab of sympathy, but steeled himself against giving in to it. He wasn’t any fonder of his sleeping accommodations, but he and Sam would get through this, he assured himself, and with any luck at all become closer in the process.

God, he had to hope that would happen.

“I know it’s not what you’re used to,” he went on with determination, “but this cabin could be considered a part of the history of this area. You might want to take some pictures of the place later.”

The swift roll of Sam’s eyes said, You’ve got to be kidding! as clearly as if he’d spoken the words.

Adam let the subject drop with a slight shrug and turned from the doorway. “The bathroom’s down this way.”

It took them less than a minute to view the old sink, toilet and tub. They returned to the kitchen and found Jane still emptying a tall grocery bag. “I put the cereal, bread and canned stuff in the cabinet by the stove,” she said. “Candy bars are in the top drawer next to the refrigerator.”

“I could use a candy bar,” Sam mumbled with a sidelong glance up at his father.

“You can have one,” Adam said. At least, he reflected with more than a little irony, his son hadn’t lost his appetite.

Sam made his choice and took a seat at the square, Formica-topped table. He stared out a side window at a high wall of deep green forest and seemed to get lost in his thoughts.

Jane continued with her project. After pulling out a long, narrow box, she squinted at the label. “This looks like spaghetti, but I’ve never seen this brand before.”

“It’s imported from Italy,” Adam explained.

“Oh.” Her lips quirked. “Should have known.”

There was no reason for that comment to put his teeth on edge, Adam told himself as he opened the cooler and hauled out a gallon of milk and a six-pack of the cola Sam favored. He set a short supply of the bottled spring water he liked on the counter, then reached in and retrieved one of the bottles of wine he’d removed from a chrome rack in his large, modern kitchen that morning.

Jane’s gaze landed on the wine as she folded the now-empty grocery bag. “I guess that’s imported, too, huh?”

“Yes.” The word came out more clipped than he’d intended. He gave himself a second to regroup, then asked, oh-so-casually, “Do you like wine?”

She met his eyes. “When I’m in the mood for alcohol, I mostly drink beer—and not the imported kind.”

Of course she would. And so would many of the people who had occupied this cabin before him, Adam imagined. Well, he was different. And he wasn’t going to apologize for it.

“To each his own,” he said.

“Mmm-hmm.” She turned, reached into the remaining grocery bag and began to stack salad fixings on the counter. “I think you forgot the lettuce,” she remarked after a moment.

“There’s lettuce.” Adam set down another bottle of wine and pointed to a leafy green bundle. “That’s romaine.”

“Oh, a fancy lettuce.”

Jane didn’t roll her eyes as his son had earlier, but Adam had little doubt she wanted to. That threatened to put his teeth on edge for a second time. “I can handle the rest of the groceries,” he told her.

“Okay.” She stepped away from the counter and looked at Sam. “Bye for now,” she said with a friendly smile that became merely polite as she returned her gaze to Adam. “You can get settled in the office whenever it suits you.” She pulled two keys from a jeans pocket and handed them over. “One’s for this cabin. The other’s for the office if I’m not around.”

He dropped them into one of the front pockets of his new shirt. “I’ll show Sam the rest of the resort before I fix dinner. I may get a chance to set up at the office later tonight.”

Jane nodded. “If you need anything that I haven’t thought of, my cabin’s not far away. Just start walking toward the lake and take a left when you come to a small fork in the path. The place is hard to see through the trees, but it’s easy enough to find when you know it’s there.”

“Does yours have a name, too?” Sam asked after a last swallow of his candy bar.

“Sure does. It’s Pitt’s Pride.”

Appropriate, Adam thought, more than suspecting that Jane Pitt had her share of pride and then some, as her great-aunt had probably had before her. “I’ll find it if I have to,” he said.

“Flashlight’s in the bottom cabinet next to the sink,” she told him. “Be sure to use it if you’re roaming around after dark. Won’t do anybody any good if you wind up getting lost in the woods.”

Adam crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her, his gaze narrowing. “I don’t plan on getting lost,” he replied firmly. He, too, had his share of pride. More than enough to reject even the remote possibility of losing his way.

Shrugging, she gave the items stacked on the counter a last look and headed for the porch.

“Way out of his element,” he heard her mutter before the screen door shut behind her with a thud.

JANE DIDN’T REALLY EXPECT to see a light on in the office when she went for a walk after dinner. She’d already watched the sunset from her kitchen window—something that had become a habit well before she’d switched cabins and moved into Pitt’s Pride after Aunt Maude was gone. To her, taking in that eye-pleasing sight and following it up with a quiet stroll just as the stars were making their appearance was the best way to end the day.

But despite how she favored spending her time before retiring for the night, she’d figured the resort’s new arrivals would take another tack and turn in early on their first evening at Glory Ridge. Apparently, she was wrong, because someone was in the office, and it could only be Adam Lassiter.

She could just continue on her walk. Truth was, he’d probably prefer it. She’d noticed that he’d been far from thrilled with her comments on his grocery choices, not to mention her suggestion that he might get lost in the woods. Then again, she could always act as if she’d noted nothing and give in to the growing urge to see what he was up to. In the end, curiosity won out and had her investigating.

She found him seated behind the desk, his attention fixed on his laptop computer. The white glow from its small screen, together with the brass banker’s lamp at his elbow, provided more than enough light to make out his chiseled profile.

“Hi,” she said with deliberate casualness as she leaned in the doorway. “I thought maybe you’d leave the computer stuff until tomorrow.”

He glanced her way. “It seemed wiser to get a start on my research, since I had some time to myself. With no television up here, Sam decided to head off to his room and read for a while.”

“What does he like to read?” she asked. Reading had always been a pleasure of hers.

His mouth slanted wryly. “Science fiction, what else.”

“Hmm. Well, it fits right in with rockets and spaceships,” Jane allowed. With that, she took several steps forward, pulled out the remaining chair and sat facing her consultant behind the card table backed up to the front of the desk. “It’s none of my business, I’ll admit, but he looks a long way from pleased to be spending part of his summer here.”

He studied her for a moment. “I don’t know how much experience you have with children—”

“Not a whole lot,” she readily conceded, breaking in. “My sister has a son around Sam’s age. And kids have visited Glory Ridge off and on. Other than that, I haven’t spent much time with the younger set, but—”

It was his turn to interrupt. “I hope you’ll recognize that having been Sam’s father for eight years, I do have considerable experience, at least where he’s concerned.”

And how my son feels is my concern, not yours. He didn’t voice those words, but she heard them anyway. And hadn’t she already admitted Sam was none of her business?

“Point taken,” Jane said. She changed subjects. “What kind of research do you plan on doing?”

His broad shoulders, which had stiffened for a minute, relaxed. “First thing on the agenda is to check out the resort’s competition—exactly who’s located where, what they charge and what they have to offer. Then I’ll try to dig a little deeper and find out who’s making a consistent profit, who’s not and why. Once that’s done, I’ll have a better idea what this place is up against.”

She ran her tongue around her teeth. “Sounds like a smart way to kick things off.” Honesty forced her to concede.

“When it comes to business, smart is my middle name.” It was no rash boast, just a soft and simple statement that rang with conviction. “I’ve helped both large and small companies throughout the western United States enhance their strengths and eliminate their weaknesses. Sometimes, it takes an outsider to get an objective analysis. And my suggestions have usually produced sizable profits.”

She leaned back in her swivel chair, which offered a squeak of protest. “Well, I guess they don’t pay you the big bucks for nothing.”

He grinned a wide grin—the first she’d seen crossing his face and one that instantly brought to mind Hester Goodbody’s words about her former pupil: He was a charmer.

Yes, Jane could see it now. And, she told herself, she could also pay that charm no mind. If she wasn’t quite as successful at that as she hoped to be, the last thing she wanted to do was let him know it. She sat silently while the old alarm clock standing on one of the file cabinets ticked off several seconds. “Could be you just might wind up earning your free stay here,” she went on at last in the most offhand manner she could summon.

Still grinning, he replied, “At the rate I normally charge for my services, it would take me less than a day to do that.”

“Humph.” Again she fought a war with her curiosity before it won out. “How much do you usually charge?”

The figure he named had her eyes round. “For a day?”

“Mmm-hmm. Plus expenses, of course.”

No wonder he could afford to drive a fancy sports car and wear suits that had never come off a rack. His parents might be well-to-do, but he seemed to be making his own way—and doing a bang-up job of it. Jane had to respect that, even if she didn’t plan on saying as much. “What happens after your research on the resort’s competition is done?”

His grin faded and his expression became all business. “Then we put our heads together and come up with a marketing strategy to take advantage of what I’ve learned.”

Once again she couldn’t fault the wisdom of his plan. He obviously knew what he was doing. She was the one who’d have to meet the challenge of keeping up with him. For all that she’d gotten good grades, she had never considered going on to college after high school. None of the Pitts had a college education.

Adam Lassiter, on the other hand, had probably not only aced his classes but wound up with a degree. Maybe more than one. And even beyond being educated, he could well be judged as having earned the title “expert.”

But only when it came to business, she reminded herself. In other areas, she could lay claim to being an expert. And maybe a demonstration was in order.

“I take it you and Sam also came here to spend some time outdoors,” she said. “Since you’ve made a start on your research this evening, how about a little fishing tomorrow?”

He hesitated for a beat. “Tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Thunder rumbled in the distance as she propped an elbow on the table and set her chin in the palm of her hand.

“Maybe it’ll be raining,” he replied after another hesitation—and with what just might be a hint of hope that would happen. “I remember how often storms whipping down from the mountains used to blow through Harmony in the summer.”

She shook her head. “The rains are late this year. It’s been thundering a ways off for the past several evenings, but we haven’t had a drop lately—and the forecast on the radio this morning was for more sunny skies tomorrow. I can take you and Sam out on the lake and give you a few pointers in the fishing department. That’s what I did for years when my great-aunt was still in charge around here—act as a guide on and off when visitors requested one.”

He released what sounded like a resigned breath, then set his jaw, as though having resolved to tackle something he was hardly eager to do.

“All right,” he said.

“Good.” She shoved back her chair and got to her feet. “I keep our extra fishing equipment in the storage room,” she explained with a nod at a doorway off one side of the office. “I’ll pull out what you two need first thing tomorrow and meet you here at five o’clock.”

His eyes widened for a second, then narrowed in a flash. “Five in the morning?”

She held back a smile. “That’s when the fish start biting.”

He let out another breath, pressed a few keys that made the computer screen fade to black and closed the laptop with a snap. “I suppose I’ll turn in,” he said, rising.

“A smart man probably would,” she told him, doing her best to maintain a bland expression.

He picked up the flashlight lying on the desk, switched it on and turned off the lamp. Seconds later he was locking the outside door behind them. As he aimed the flashlight down the gravel path, they walked toward his cabin. At the porch, a faint glow spilled through the front windows, over the rocking chair set beside the door. Several yards away, an owl hooted in the trees, the only sound in the quiet surroundings.

“Well, I guess this is where we part company,” she said.

He flicked off the flashlight. “Want to take this with you?”

She shook her head. “I can do without, especially with the stars out. Even when they’re not, I don’t have much trouble. I know my way around this place.”

He didn’t argue the point. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“At five,” she cheerfully reminded him.

Even in the dim light, she didn’t miss his fleeting grimace before he held out his right hand in an apparent effort to put things back on a businesslike basis. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she said, and placed her hand in his for the first time. As she’d expected, his palm was warm and dry and not at all rough to the touch. What she didn’t expect—despite the ease with which he’d handled the large cooler earlier that day—was the solid strength underscoring his light grasp. Or how the feel of his bare skin against hers would affect her.

Because it did.

Jane dragged in a steadying stream of cool air and pulled her hand away. Get moving, she flat-out ordered herself. And while you’re at it, get your head screwed on straight.

Obeying at least that first command, she turned and continued down the path that would fork off to her cabin. With firm determination to betray nothing out of the ordinary, she didn’t so much as toss a backward glance over her shoulder. Still, there was no denying the blunt truth that she had felt some sort of…attraction, she guessed would describe it. One that all boiled down to male and female. She’d seen too much of nature’s ways to fail to recognize it.

Good grief, for that brief yet humming moment when their palms had touched, she’d been in danger of being bowled over in the most barnyard-basic way by Adam Lassiter—probably the fanciest man she’d ever met. As a plain woman, she knew down to the familiar ground under her feet how foolish that was.

She’d only made a fool of herself once before over a good-looking male, and that was so far back it didn’t really count. Not that she didn’t recall the times she’d let Bobby Breen sweet-talk her into the back seat of his old Chevy convertible. Or how he had moved on when a prettier girl took an interest. Still, she’d survived that stinging rejection and come out the wiser.

All she had to do was keep that in mind from now on when dealing with a slick consultant. He probably wouldn’t be sporting any charming grins come morning, Jane assured herself. More likely, he’d be half-asleep.

She, however, was used to getting up early. And she could be chipper, too, at that time of day. Which she would be tomorrow, she vowed. She wasn’t letting anyone in on the fact that if she and Adam Lassiter had shaken hands during his first visit to Glory Ridge, she might never have encouraged him to spend part of his summer here, much as she needed some savvy business advice.

No, she wasn’t letting anyone know that.

Especially him.

Chapter Three

“Good morning, early risers,” a resonant voice greeted over the airwaves. “We’re still a bit shy of sunrise, folks, but it looks as though yesterday’s weather forecast was right on target. All signs are that it’s going to be another beautiful day in Harmony.”

Adam met that news, delivered by the far-from-new clock radio standing on the bedroom dresser, with a groan. WHAR, one of two stations vying for listeners from among Harmony’s residents, had jarred him out of a sound sleep—and he wasn’t happy about it.

“Why would any fish with half a brain want to put itself in danger of being caught this early?” he grumbled. It didn’t help that he’d spent too long getting to sleep the night before, a circumstance he was inclined to lay at Jane Pitt’s door, for all that it didn’t make a lot of sense.

Whether it made sense or not, he had to admit that something had happened just before she’d headed off to her cabin. Something that had made him aware that she was a woman—and not a prickly one, either.

Adam frowned, thinking back to how he’d watched as she’d disappeared into the darkness, and how, for a few fleeting moments that continued to mystify him, he’d been reluctant to see her go. Logic said that he should have been glad to do without any more of her cheery reminders of the fishing expedition in his immediate future. He should, in fact, have released a grateful breath on her departure. But he hadn’t. Not last night.

His lack of gratitude must be a fluke.

Assuring himself that could only be the case, Adam propped his eyes open and discovered that it was still pitch-black in the bedroom and outside, as well. He stared up at the ceiling, recalling the dream that had captured his mind once sleep had finally claimed him. The same dream he’d had several times in the past, although he hadn’t had it for a while. In it, he strode down a long corridor filled with closed doors on both sides. One by one, he opened them, searching for something—exactly what, he’d never been able to grasp. He only knew that he’d failed to find that elusive something, again and again. The dream always left him with an empty, hollow feeling, and he’d been glad to be free of it.

But now that dream had come back. And he had no idea why.

Resolutely setting thoughts of it aside, he fumbled for the switch on a small bedside lamp and got out of bed.

“To get your day off to a rousing start, here’s an oldie but goodie from the Rolling Stones,” the announcer informed his listeners. The first notes of “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” boomed out, then died to silence as Adam shut off the radio. He took off the gray sweats he was using for pajamas, then pulled on clean underwear and fresh socks, plus the same pair of Levi’s and black denim shirt he’d worn the day before. Once he’d shoved his feet into his new boots, his next stop was the bathroom. He washed his face but didn’t bother to shave, then rapped on the door to his son’s room and poked his head inside.

“Time to get up,” he said, not even attempting a hearty tone. He already knew, thanks to a brief and hardly happy conversation the evening before on his return to the cabin, that Sam was no more eager than he was to crawl out of bed far earlier than either of them was used to getting up. But they were doing it anyway. Adam had been firm on that score. Their spending time together without the frenzied activities of prior summers had been his goal, and if joining forces to haul in a fish could accomplish that, then so be it.

“It’s still dark,” Sam mumbled after turning over and blinking at the hall light Adam had switched on.

“It probably won’t be for much longer,” Adam replied, although he had no idea what time the sun actually rose. Still, given that it was summer, the sky was bound to show some light soon. Cripes, he had to hope so.

“I’ll have breakfast on the table by the time you wash up and get dressed,” he went on, and paid no attention to more mumbling that followed as he headed for the kitchen. A glance at his watch told him that by the time he figured out how to make coffee in the old-fashioned percolator sitting on a stove burner he wouldn’t have much chance to drink it if he planned to meet Jane at the office at five. Which he did. He had no intention of allowing her to be smug about his being late.

Not when she’ll probably be early, he told himself. Even on short acquaintance, he imagined that was a pretty sure bet.

It was still dark after he and Sam ate their twin bowls of cold cereal, mainly in a groggy silence, and left the cabin. Adam again used the flashlight to help him find his way, and they arrived at the office a few minutes before five. As he’d expected, Jane Pitt was already there. What he didn’t expect, however, was the smell of freshly brewed coffee that had his mouth watering from the moment his nose caught a whiff.

Jane sat behind the desk with a thick stoneware mug in hand, wearing a blue and white checked shirt and a frayed navy baseball cap that might have been older than she was. “I see you’re right on time.” She was chipper.

Way too chipper, as far as Adam was concerned. “Actually, we’re a little early,” it pleased him to reply, although he couldn’t match her tone. He doubted many people could at a godforsaken hour of the morning when even the birds weren’t up yet. Standing next to him, small hands shoved into the pockets of his new jeans, Sam only yawned a wide yawn that said he for one remained far from awake, never mind alert.

Jane gave the boy a small, knowing smile, then lifted her mug. “Want another dose of caffeine before we get started?” she asked Adam.

“Sure,” he said. He didn’t mention it would be his first of the day—or that a part of him less determined to let pride rule was urging him to get down on his knees in sheer thankfulness. Instead, he wasted no time in heading for the coffeemaker. He picked up another of the heavy mugs stacked beside it and poured himself a hefty helping of dark, fragrant brew. A few sips had his eyes no longer in danger of drooping.

“This is good,” he told Jane.

She met his gaze over the rim of her mug. “I can make coffee.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He had to admit that it tasted like some of the best he’d ever had.

“I pulled out some fishing poles and other equipment for you and Sam,” she added with a nod toward one side of the room.

He looked in the direction she’d indicated and saw two metal poles, one half the size of the other, leaning against the wall. A dented, dull green tackle box and a small white net he assumed was used to scoop up a fish once it was hooked rested on the floor nearby. Memories of the few times he’d headed for the large lagoon at Harmony Park as a young boy with a simple bamboo pole and the hope of catching something came back to him. He’d never had much success and had soon lost interest. If anyone had predicted only weeks earlier that he’d be making another attempt this summer, he’d have questioned their sanity.

He returned his gaze to Jane. “Are you fishing, too?”

She shook her head and rose to her feet. “I’ll be a guide today. We’d better get started. The sun should be on its way up any minute.”

After polishing off his coffee, Adam crossed the room, picked up the poles and handed the shorter one to Sam, who inspected it with clear misgivings.

“What do we put on the hook?” he asked Jane.

“We’ll start out with worms and see how it goes.”

Sam frowned. “Do we hafta dig ’em up?”

“Not today.” Jane shut off the coffeemaker. “I’ve got some in the refrigerator.”

Sam’s eyes flew to meet Adam’s. “Is she kidding?” he asked in a whisper as Jane started for the outer room.

“Trust me, she’s not,” Adam murmured in return. He bent to retrieve the net and passed it to Sam. “You take this. I’ll take the tackle box. And I suppose she’ll take the worms,” he added with a large dose of irony.

A FIRST FEW faint rays of light visible to the east guided their way down the path toward the lake. Jane had put several cans of soda and the coffee can holding the worms into an older, far smaller cooler than the one the Lassiters had brought with them. Swinging it by its short handle, she took the lead and held her head high.

The day was off to as good a start as could be expected, she decided. Nothing in her expression or her voice had betrayed anything of what she’d felt during that handshake the evening before. Thinking back over the past several minutes, she was sure of it. And that was the most important thing. While her consultant might look even more appealing in a dangerously male sort of fashion with a night’s growth of dark beard, he had no idea she thought so—and she planned to keep it that way.

Once they reached Quail Lake, Jane set the cooler down on the grassy shore a few feet from the water. “We need to try some casting before we take out a boat,” she said.

“Casting?” Sam repeated with a puzzled look.

That she’d have to start from scratch came as little surprise. “That’s what it’s called when you throw your fishing line into the water and reel it in—hopefully with a good-sized trout on the other end.” Jane reached up and tugged down the bill of her ball cap. “I won’t deny that a bit of luck doesn’t hurt when it comes to catching anything, but it helps—a lot—to know what you’re doing.”

Which they didn’t. That became as clear as glass when father and son attempted a trial cast after a few initial instructions. Sam’s hook plopped into the water scarce inches from the bank. Adam’s never made it that far. Instead, his fishing line wound up wrapped around the branch of a tall tree a few feet behind him.

Jane ignored what might have been a muttered oath too low to be distinct. “Good backward action,” she said dryly to the man at her side. “But you’re not supposed to let the line go until you snap your wrist to start your forward motion.”

He frowned up at the tree. “So you told me.”

She swallowed the urge to chuckle. “Just a reminder.”

“Point taken,” he replied after a beat. “Now, how the hell—” He glanced at his son. “How the heck do I get it out of there?”

She took the long pole from him and gave it a practiced jerk that freed the line, then handed it back to him. A rueful grimace on his part wouldn’t have surprised her. Truth be told, she would have enjoyed seeing one cross his face.

Instead, he was staring over her shoulder with an expression far more engrossed than rueful. Following his gaze, she discovered what had captured his attention. The newly dawning sun was just skirting the top of the low mountain that rose to a gentle peak on one side of the lake.

For the next few minutes, she divided her attention between that familiar sight and her companions. She quickly saw that Adam wasn’t the only one who found the sunrise fascinating. For the first time that morning, Sam’s eyes were fully open as he stood stock-still and studied the tips of the trees being lit with a hazy glow.

In that moment, Jane felt surprisingly close to her guests—mostly, she supposed, because viewing that sunrise with wonder was a feeling she could understand, and share. Then the spell was broken as a fish jumped in the water and landed with a soft splash.

“Was that a trout?” Sam asked, eyes still wide.

“Probably,” Jane replied. “There are some bass in the lake, but more trout, for sure. And right now most of them are looking for breakfast. Once we get out on the lake, we’ll see if we can tempt a keeper to sample one of our worms.”

“A keeper?” Again Sam’s expression was puzzled.

“A fish that’s big enough to keep. If they’re returned to the water quickly enough, they usually swim off, no worse for the experience.”

“They probably just get smarter about taking a hook the next time around,” Adam ventured with a shrewd glint in his gaze.

“I’d say you’re right,” Jane allowed. She looked at Sam. “There’s one fat trout living in Quail Lake—Clever Clyde, we call him—who’s been outsmarting fishermen for quite a while. That’s what makes catching bigger fish a challenge.”

Soon both her guests were casting with better results—especially Adam. Watching how with each attempt his long arm and strong wrist sent the line snapping forward to fly on a straighter and farther path before it met the lake, she couldn’t deny he was a fast learner.

“I think I’ve got the hang of it,” he said with undeniable satisfaction.

Jane didn’t disagree, but she knew there was more to landing a fish than casting a line. A lot more. “Since you seem to be confident enough—” not to mention just a bit smug, she thought, “—I’ll concentrate on helping Sam once we take the boat out.”

He met her gaze. His swiftly narrowed, as if he’d caught the trace of a dare to go it alone in her matter-of-fact statement. “That’s fine with me.”

Realizing her words had indeed been a dare, one she hadn’t been able to resist, she said, “Great.” She bent to pick up the cooler resting on the bank. “First lesson when we get out on the lake is how to bait a hook,” she told Sam.

“Okay,” he agreed, sounding at least a bit more enthusiastic. After retrieving the net he’d been carrying, he fell into step beside her as they walked down the old wooden dock. “Why do fish want to eat so early?” he asked with the barest hint of a grumble.

“Beats me,” she replied. “They just do.”

“Are we gonna take a boat with a motor?”

She mulled that over for a moment, weighing the merits of using one of the ancient outboard motors against putting a pair of oars to good use. “The motors are pretty noisy and we’re not going all the way across the lake, so I guess I’ll row us out.”

“I can row,” a low voice said from behind her.

Jane aimed a glance back at Adam. “It takes some practice. Otherwise, you can wind up going around in circles.”

“I was on a rowing team in college,” he said, looking pleased to relay that information. “I can row—and not in circles.”

“He knows how to do everything good,” Sam murmured, just loud enough for Jane to make out. There was no resentment in those words, only what might have been a young boy’s yearning to measure up to the successful man who had fathered him.

She thought about simply pretending she hadn’t heard, and found she couldn’t. “He doesn’t know everything he needs to when it comes to fishing,” she murmured back. “If you stick with it and don’t give up, I’ll teach you as much as I can today.”

Sam said nothing, but the set of his jaw was enough. He appeared determined to hang in there.

And now it was her turn, Jane realized, to make good on her word. Fortunately, past experience made her confident enough in her abilities to deem her promise achievable. Too bad she was nowhere near as confident about being able to deal with the fact that three in a small boat would put her and her consultant in close contact. Maybe too close for comfort.

In a matter of minutes Adam took up the oars with practiced ease and whistled softly as he launched the weathered rowboat toward the middle of the lake with firm, sure strokes.

Okay, he could row, Jane had to admit. But she also had to wonder whether he’d be whistling so merry a tune on the way back.

“JUST GET THE damn—danged—hook out of my collar, will you?” Adam groused when the sun was well on its way to its noonday position high overhead. “I could do without having a slimy worm wiggling like crazy at the back of my neck.”

Jane leaned in to inspect the problem, something she would have been glad to avoid since it put her in even closer proximity to the man she’d been doing her best to pay little attention to. It didn’t help, not one bit, that for a startled moment she found her chest plastered to his back as the breeze ruffling the water suddenly picked up and rocked the boat under them.

She quickly tugged herself away. “I’ll try to take care of it if you’ll wait a double-darn minute for me to get the pliers from the tackle box,” she huffed before dredging up a more patient tone. “I know it can’t be all that comfortable, but I doubt the worm is having any more fun than you are.”

That Adam had unwittingly stood up to stretch his legs just as she’d whipped Sam’s short pole around to demonstrate how to drop a line into a shady spot was no one’s fault. Reminding herself of that, she refused to feel guilty about catching the back of his collar with the sharp point of the hook.

“How come you said ‘double darn’?” Sam asked as he joined her to peer into the dented metal box. “I never heard anybody say that before.”

Jane reached in and retrieved the small pliers. “Sometimes one darn isn’t enough,” she explained. She didn’t add that despite both her father and great-aunt having been known to swear like sailors, sometimes at each other, neither had ever accepted such language from a growing girl, and by the time that girl had become a woman, the habit of choosing alternatives had set in.

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