“You must think I’m not much of a private investigator,” Samantha said.

Will shook his head and smiled. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You were just outnumbered. In a fair fight, I’d put my money on you any time, Sam.”

He cupped her face with his hand. The strong, capable hand of a man who worked for his living. She covered his hand with her own.

“You sure you’ll be all right in here by yourself?” Will asked her, his blue eyes dark with obvious desire. “I could wash your back.”

Samantha swallowed, consumed with the thought of the two of them in the tub. The temptation was almost too much.

From the doorway behind them came the sounds of the little boy in the next room.

“You better see to Zack.”

He nodded and smiled. “Maybe another time,” he whispered.

She’d underestimated this man, Samantha thought. Just as she’d underestimated how dangerous this case was. She wouldn’t make either mistake again….

Mystery Bride
B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born in Houston, B.J. Daniels is a former Southern girl who grew up on the smell of gulf sea air and Southern cooking. But like her characters, her home is now in Montana, not far from Big Sky, where she snowboards in the winters and boats in the summers with her husband and daughters. She does miss gumbo and Texas Barbecue, though! Her first Harlequin Intrigue novel was nominated for the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for best first book and best Harlequin Intrigue. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Montana and Bozeman Writers group. B.J. loves to hear from readers. Write to her at P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Will Sheridan—He knows exactly what he wants in a bride. But some women, he discovers, can be murder.

Samantha Murphy—The private investigator has dreamed of a man just like Will Sheridan—but he is the last thing she needs on this case.

Lucas O’Brien—Is the computer game designer just being paranoid or is someone really out to get him?

Zack O’Brien—Everyone suddenly wants the five-year-old son of the game designer a little too desperately.

Cassie Clark O’Brien—The first ex-wife has a killer of a secret she must keep.

Mercedes Palmer O’Brien—The second ex-wife isn’t one to carry a grudge. She gets even.

Al the Ox—The former wrestler turned kidnapper is just following orders. But whose orders?

Bradley Guess—Does the computer nerd really believe his partner has taken off with the missing game?

Robert A. Walker—He is philosophical about his investments. He expects them to pay off.

Eric Ross—Does he have reason to be afraid for his brother? Or is he playing a game of his own?

Bebe, the computer game designer groupie—She seems to know a lot about the missing game and the missing designer.

This one is for my first sister-in-law, Francis Demarais, of Malta, Montana, who taught me how to make bread and the best fudge in the world. You have been a constant in my life for many years now and one of its joys. Thanks for always keeping me a part of the family.

Contents

Prologue

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

Prologue

Seattle, Washington

Friday night

Lucas heard the heavy tread of footsteps coming up the back stairs just as he finished burning the CD. In the dimly lit office, he popped the CD from the disk burner and grabbed one of the game boxes on his desk. Tossing the game’s CD into the trash, he put his disk inside and snapped the box shut.

Hurriedly, he pried open the back of the computer and ripped out the memory board, smashing it on the floor with the sole of his shoe. Then he destroyed the CD burner and zip drive.

Just a few more minutes. He thought of his son waiting for him nearby at a friend’s house and the train tickets he had bought for tonight. He heard a sound like a door closing somewhere in the office building.

He snapped off the desk lamp and moved to the fifth-floor window. On the street below, he spotted a figure hunkered in the shadows near the front door of the building.

He swore. Panicked, he picked up the stack of CDs he’d burned. Five total. Five pieces of a puzzle he’d spent his life dreaming of solving. And finally had.

Another sound echoed up from the belly of the building.

They’re coming. Destroy the CDs. Before it’s too late.

But even as he thought it, he knew he couldn’t. Not just because of all the years of work that had gone into them—but because of his son. Lucas needed to leave something behind. So far, he’d just left a trail of mistakes.

As he desperately looked around the office, he spotted the mail chute, and suddenly had an idea. Hurriedly, he scooped up the CDs and rushed into his outer office. Sitting down at the remaining intact computer, he typed out a note and made five copies of it.

He stopped to listen, but heard nothing beyond the usual creaking and groaning of the old building. But he knew he was no longer alone.

As quickly as he could, he addressed five envelopes, stamped them and began slipping the note and a CD into each.

Just as he was about to put the last CD into the envelope addressed to one Samantha Murphy of Butte, Montana, he heard footfalls. The stairway door down the hall groaned open.

But what stopped him dead was the sound of small feet running down the worn carpeting toward his office and a single cried word. “Daddy!”

Oh, God. Zack.

He dropped the final CD to the floor, his heart catching in his throat, as his five-year-old son came running into his office. With dark eyes wild with fear, Zack threw himself into his father’s arms.

“Daddy, they made me get in the car. I didn’t want to. But I kicked the big guy and got away and ran—”

“It’s okay, Zack,” he said, hugging his son. He could hear the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, slow and steady. They knew they had him trapped. They just didn’t realize how desperate he was.

With Zack still in his arms, he ripped out the mother board from the last remaining computer in his office, destroyed it, then rushed to lock the outer office door. Then grabbing up the envelopes and the fallen CD, he hurried them into his office and locked the door, knowing it was only a stopgap measure. There was no escape now.

He put Zack down and knelt beside him. Zack wore the little red jacket Lucas had bought him for the flight and the navy backpack they’d loaded with a few of his favorite toys. After all, they’d be traveling light.

“Are you all right?” he asked his son.

Zack nodded and put on his little tough-guy face.

It was all Lucas could do not to break down at the sight. He struggled, with his emotions, with his frantic thoughts. The men after him had known where to find Zack. This changed things, Lucas realized.

His mind scrambled for an out. But he knew there wasn’t one. Trying to hide the CDs would be futile. Destroying them wouldn’t save his son. Just the opposite.

Something heavy slammed against the outer office door, rattling the windows. Resigned, he did the only thing he could. He picked up the four CDs already in the addressed envelopes and dropped them down the mail chute. The sound of them sliding down to the first floor mail drop was muffled by the splintering of wood at his outer office door.

Lucas picked up the fifth CD box, and praying he was doing the right thing, slipped it into his son’s backpack, then he opened his desk drawer and started to take out the loaded .38. Earlier he’d been prepared to kill anyone who tried to stop him. Now, he glanced at his son and slowly closed the desk drawer without removing the gun.

Everything had changed.

He picked Zack up again and hugged him fiercely, committing to memory the feel of his son in his arms, fearing he’d never hold him again. His son. Of all his regrets, Zack was at the top of the list.

“Listen to me, Zack,” he said as the outer office door gave way with a loud crash. “I need you to be strong and very brave.”

Zack looked up at him, his eyes fearful, but full of trust and love.

Lucas explained what the boy had to do.

Zack nodded, tears in his eyes. “I will be very brave,” he said, his small body trembling.

Something large and heavy hit his office door with a resounding boom.

He lowered his son down on the floor. “Get under the desk and remember what I said.” The boy scrambled back into the hole. “Zack? I’m sorry about all this. I love you.”

Chapter One

Billings, Montana

Friday night

Samantha Murphy slipped off her high heels, shimmied her dress up to her hips and began to climb the rock wall. As she dropped to the patio on the other side, she heard the sound of fabric tearing. No more silk for undercover work.

She tugged down her dress, inspecting the rip up the right side clear to her knee. Great, she thought, as she slid back into her heels. Belatedly she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Champagne, miss?”

She spun around to find a waiter holding a tray filled with sparkling glasses. Behind him through the closed French doors to the house, she could hear the faint sound of classical music, the gentle tinkle of glasses and soft murmured conversation.

She and the waiter were alone on the patio, no doubt each wondering what the other was doing there. She had the distinct impression that he’d probably been taking a breather from the party and had caught her “revealing” grand entrance. She was glad she hadn’t worn her thong underwear.

While his expression remained impassive, she could have sworn she caught a glint of amusement in his eyes as he held out the tray.

Her cheeks warmed as she took a glass. “Thank you, I could use a drink.”

He gave her a slight nod and then moved to the French doors, opening them wide before disappearing inside.

She took a sip of the bubbly and watched him. While she doubted he’d go to the trouble of telling the hostess that a party crasher had just landed on the patio, she had every reason to be anxious. Through the open doors she could see men in tuxedos and women in expensive, formal gowns standing around making idle conversation over canapés and cocktails. She couldn’t have felt more out of place at a nudist colony.

She took another sip of the champagne and headed for the French doors.

But just before she reached them, she caught her reflection in the polished glass. She hardly recognized herself. The white silk dress hugged her curves—the rip up the right side seam almost looked as if the dress had come that way; the strappy high heels added a much-desired three inches to her slight five-foot-four frame; the sophisticated hairdo swept her usually wild mane up into an intricate maze of perky curls and strategically located tendrils that framed her perfectly made-up face.

“Not bad,” she whispered. Her own mother wouldn’t recognize her.

Feeling like Cinderella at the ball, she gave the woman in the glass a conspiratorial wink, checked to make sure the miniature camera was still snug in her bra between her breasts, and then braced herself. Chin up. Stomach in. Show time.

WILL SHERIDAN KNEW what he was looking for. He stood at the edge of the party, searching the crowd. He’d planned this, just as he’d planned everything else in his life. Now with his thirty-sixth birthday approaching, he was ready for the next step. Marriage.

That decision made, it was just a matter of finding his perfect mate before his birthday—his self-imposed deadline. He wasn’t worried. He’d taken some time off from his business to get the situation settled. He approached it as he had everything else in his life: methodically. Find the woman, romance her and, after the proper amount of time, marry her.

And he knew exactly what he wanted in a wife, so he didn’t think it would be difficult. It was one of the reasons he’d accepted his sister’s invitation. Katherine Sheridan Ashley threw the kind of parties he assumed his prospective wife would attend. The woman of his dreams would no doubt travel in these circles, have a career that complemented his, share a similar family background with these people, and have the refined tastes that would make her the perfect wife and mother of his children.

Used to consulting experts when he needed advanced expertise, he’d agreed to attend one of his sister’s many parties at her grand home on the rim-rocks overlooking Billings. It was as high society as he could take.

Katherine had assured him he wouldn’t be disappointed. She had just the woman in mind for him.

Not that he thought he’d need much help. In fact, he firmly believed that he’d know his future wife the moment he saw her. That’s why he wasn’t the least bit surprised when she appeared like a vision, stepping in from the night through the ornate French patio doors in a white gown.

SAMANTHA WORKED HER WAY through the party crowd, smiling, nodding, exchanging pleasantries, looking for a man. She knew exactly what she was looking for and wasn’t surprised when—after a couple of canapés and another glass of champagne, consumed only as part of her cover, of course—she found him.

Stealthily, she studied the man from a distance, recognizing him from the black-and-white photograph she’d been given. A second man approached him, and the two took their conversation down the hallway to a far wing of the rambling dwelling.

With the floor plan fresh in her memory, she eased out a side door away from the crowd. Slipping off her heels again and holding them in one hand she hoisted her dress and raced around the perimeter via the many patios, until she found herself directly outside the library. She put her heels back on, then standing breathlessly in the dark, she watched from behind a large, leafy plant as the first man withdrew a wad of bills from his tuxedo jacket. He handed them to the second man in exchange for a manila envelope.

From her bra, she pulled out the camera and snapped a couple of quick shots as the two men made the exchange. As the first man took the envelope over to the desk, turned on the desk lamp and pulled out the contents, the second man counted the money.

She zoomed in and took another shot of what were clearly bids for the new highway construction project. As she moved to get one final incriminating photo, she bumped into the huge flowerpot with a resounding thunk.

The men in the library looked up—right in her direction, although she knew they couldn’t see her. Yet. The first man drew a gun as he moved toward the patio—and her.

“Hello.”

She jumped at the sound of a male voice directly behind her. Hurriedly sliding the camera back into her bra and praying everything was safely covered inside her snug-fitting dress, she swung around, ready to defend herself if necessary.

She’d half expected the man behind her to be the waiter she’d met earlier, although she feared if it was, he wouldn’t be offering her champagne this time.

It wasn’t the waiter. Far from it.

This man was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a tuxedo. She had to look up to see his face, and although only faint light leaked from the library window, she caught her breath at the sight of him. Not a woman to be knocked off her high heels by simple good looks, she felt herself wobble just a little. He had a strong masculine jaw, classic features and thick dark hair. A pair of intense blue eyes the color of faded denim peered at her through small wire-rimmed glasses. He was so close she could smell his faint aftershave. Umm.

He held two full champagne glasses and smiled tentatively at her. His smile set the air around her vibrating. Goose bumps rose on her skin, and she swore the hair on the back of her neck stood on end—not to mention what he was doing to the rest of her.

“Hello,” he said again. His voice was deep and soft. Hypnotic. His denim-eyed gaze was intent.

For just an instant, she lost herself in all that heavenly blue. Then the sound of footsteps behind her in the library jerked her back to earth. Any moment, she knew the library door would burst open and the men she’d photographed would see her. And get the wrong impression. Actually, the right impression, in this case. An impression that could get her and this handsome stranger killed.

She always had a backup plan. Sans a plan, she punted.

Impulsively, she threw her arms around the man’s neck and kissed him. He stiffened in surprise. But there wasn’t much he could do, considering both his hands held champagne glasses. She heard the library door bang open as she buried her fingers in the stranger’s thick, lush hair and deepened the kiss, listening behind her for the familiar sound of a bolt sliding back on a weapon just before it was fired.

To his credit, it took him only seconds. He tossed the champagne glasses over his shoulder and pulled her into his arms, kissing her back with nothing short of wanton abandon. She barely even heard the champagne glasses break on the rock wall behind them as he stole more than her breath.

She surfaced slowly from the kiss, letting out a small satisfied sigh as he leisurely lifted his lips from hers. She blinked, then glanced around in confusion. The patio was empty except for the two of them; the library door was closed, the lights extinguished, the two men gone. She hadn’t even heard them leave. She hadn’t heard anything but her pulse roaring in her ears and the erratic thump of her heart.

She looked up at the stranger in whose arms she was still enveloped.

He looked as stunned as she felt. “Wow,” he said as he pulled back, his expression clearly shocked and…a little uncertain? “So much for idle chitchat.”

She felt her face flush. “I—”

“Please, don’t apologize. I’m flattered.” He offered her his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Will Sheridan.”

His large, warm hand closed over hers.

“Sam-Samantha—” she stammered. “Moore.” Or less. “Samantha Moore.”

He smiled again, and she felt his powerful force field pulling her in.

“I’m delighted to finally meet you,” he said in that soft, deep voice of his. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this.” He sounded a little embarrassed. “Although, I have to admit, it didn’t go quite like I’d planned it.”

Was he saying he knew her? She was sure she’d never met him before. He wasn’t the kind of man she’d forget. One thing she was sure of: she’d never kissed him before. But she definitely wouldn’t mind kissing him again.

“You took me by surprise,” she stammered. Especially his kiss. Boy howdy.

“Trust me, not half as much as you did me.”

His laugh warmed her like summer sunshine.

“You have a great smile. I want to know everything about you.”

She doubted that. Still, she felt her cheeks redden from the heat of his gaze. This man could charm a woman right out of her high heels.

“Could we go somewhere and get better acquainted?” he asked excitedly. “I really do want to know everything about you.”

That was the problem with kissing a man the first time you laid eyes on him. He often got the wrong idea. But she did want to get out of here, and the quicker the better.

She was just fumbling for an excuse to escape when her eye caught a movement. A woman appeared behind him. The smell of perfume reached her before the woman did.

“Will?” the woman enquired.

As he turned at the sound, Samantha quickly stepped back into the shadows.

“Will! What are you doing out here?”

The woman was dressed to kill and was obviously their hostess, Katherine Ashley. If her pinched tone and the frown on her face were any indication, she wasn’t happy to see Will out here in the dark.

Samantha had a feeling Katherine Ashley would be even less happy to find him out here in the dark with an uninvited guest, especially one who was here to bust two of her invited guests. Seeing her chance, Samantha edged along the doorway in the dark and ducked behind the potted plant she’d bumped into earlier. Quietly she slipped into the unlit library.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, Will,” she heard Katherine Ashley say. “I want you to meet the woman I told you about.”

“I’ve already met—”

Samantha glanced back from the darkness of the library and saw him turn to introduce her. She felt a tug of regret as she saw his surprise to find her gone. Surprise—and disappointment?

She grimaced as she was smacked with a good strong jolt of guilt. Will Sheridan had come along just when she’d needed him. She hated to think what might have happened if she’d been caught alone outside the library by the men she’d photographed. He’d saved her bacon. Not to mention the added bonus of his kiss. Under other circumstances—

She put the thought out of her head. Although it had never come up before, she never got romantically involved while on a case.

She made her way back to the rock wall where she’d started, and, checking to make sure the coast was clear, slipped off her heels, wriggled up her dress and shimmied over the stones again. As she dropped to the expanse of manicured lawn that stretched between her and the road where her Mustang convertible was hidden in a clump of trees, she heard the silk rip again. This time all the way to her thigh.

Holding the dress up around her hips and her heels, she jogged barefoot through the darkness to the car. Once behind the wheel, she tossed her heels into the back seat and picked up her cell phone.

“I’ve got the photos,” she said the moment the line was answered. “You’re info was right about the commissioner. He is selling construction bids.”

“Good work. That didn’t take long. I assume it was uneventful?”

Absently she ran her tongue over her lips. “You know how these parties are.”

“Send me the film, and I’ll take it from here.”

She hung up, suddenly anxious to get moving. The ball was over. It was time for Cinderella to get home.

Too bad she hadn’t left the prince a glass slipper so he could find her again. Instead, she’d given him a false name and disappeared on him. Some princess she was.

Well, if she ever saw him again— Like there was any chance of that. She didn’t even live in the same city, and definitely didn’t travel in the same circles.

“So long, Will Sheridan,” she whispered as she pulled away and glanced in her rearview mirror. The road behind her was empty. What had she expected, Will to come after her?

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she picked up the phone again and checked her messages. With a little luck, she might be able to sleep in tomorrow, since she had a long drive ahead of her tonight.

“Sam—?”

Her heart began to pound at the once oh-so-familiar voice on her machine.

“It’s Lucas.”

As if he had to tell her. On key, her heart began to ache. Funny, but even after all these years just the sound of him could still make her hurt. Lucas. She swore under her breath and almost missed the rest of his message.

“I need your help, Sam. I’m in trouble. I need you to look after—”

She heard a noise in the background. Then silence.

She stared at the phone in disbelief. She hadn’t even realized he knew where to find her. And now, after all these years and everything that had happened, Lucas had the nerve to call her out of the blue and say, “Hey, I’m in trouble. I need your help. Look after—” After what? His dog? His cat? His boat? His finances? Her heart began to beat harder. Oh God, surely he wasn’t going to say his son? Zack? But why call her? Why not call Zack’s mother?

She dialed Seattle information, got Lucas’s home number and called it. The line rang and rang.

She hung up, unable to shake the scared feeling that had settled around her heart. Distracted, she barely noticed the dark-colored van that pulled out after her a few blocks from the party.

Normally, she could lose herself behind the wheel. Especially in the convertible with the top down. But on the five-hour drive home to Butte, not even speed, the cool fall night or letting her hair down could keep her from thinking about the party, Will Sheridan, the kiss and Lucas’s call.

When she pulled into her driveway a little after 2:00 a.m., she saw in the headlights that something was terribly wrong. The front door of her small house stood open. She pulled her .357 from beneath the seat and carefully opened the car door.

The night was black, the shadows hunkering in the bushes around the house even blacker. A deathly quiet hung over the neighborhood. Not even the dog down the street barked.

As she padded barefoot to the front door, she raised the weapon, bracing herself for whatever might be waiting inside. The place had been ransacked. She wasn’t overly neat, but she could see the damage the moment she stepped in. A faint light leaked out of the kitchen, spilling across the cluttered floor.

She swore under her breath. Why would someone do this? It wasn’t as if she had much of value to steal. Behind her, through the still-open doorway, she heard a car engine. She turned in time to see a dark-colored van cruise by. It was too dark to see the driver, not that she paid that much attention. The van continued on down the street, the sound of its engine dying away as she turned back to her vandalized house.

She quickly searched the two floors. Nothing seemed to be missing, not that she could really tell in all this mess. The thing was, whoever had broken in hadn’t bothered with her TV, stereo, VCR or the two good paintings she’d purchased for the living room. That about covered everything of value.

Once sure the burglar was not inside, she locked up and dialed 911, requesting her father, knowing she was in for a lecture on security systems.

She had barely hung up from talking with him when the phone rang, making her jump. Trying to still her racing pulse, she picked up the receiver, expecting to hear Lucas’s voice.

“Samantha?”

Talk about déjà vu. Another blast from the past. Memories drifted over her like confetti—bright-colored vivid flashes of the past. Almost all of it painful.

“Cassie?”

It had been years since she’d heard from her former college roommate. Not since Cassie’s wedding to Lucas. Certainly not since Cassie’s divorce from Lucas a year later.

In those few seconds, she wondered what Cassie had been doing the past five years. It beat wondering what would’ve happened if Lucas had never met Cassie.

“I know it’s been a long time—” Cassie sounded apologetic.

The call shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Not after the one from Lucas.

But there was something else in Cassie’s tone that made her wary. “What’s wrong?” she asked, remembering Lucas’s cryptic message on her machine.

“Have you heard from Lucas?” Cassie asked.

Her heart began to pound again. “Just a short message on my machine. I tried to call him, but I didn’t get an answer.”

“Have you talked to him lately?” Cassie asked, sounding hesitant.

“No.” She hated to admit that she hadn’t even thought of Lucas in a long time. The great love of her life. The great loss of her life. When had she quit thinking about him every minute of every day?

“Or received a letter or maybe a package from him?” Cassie asked, her voice taut.

Heart racing, Sam asked, “Cassie, what’s happened?”

“Lucas has disappeared and Zack—” Cassie’s voice broke. “Oh, Sam, I need your help.”

Chapter Two

Wolf Point, Montana

Two days later

Will Sheridan prided himself on his tenacity. Samantha’s sudden disappearance the night of the party had left him all the more eager to find her.

But before very long he’d realized it wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. There was no Samantha Moore listed in the phone book. Nor did any of the Moores listed in Billings, Montana, know of a Samantha who fit her description.

Worse, when he’d called his sister, she’d been distracted over the commissioner’s recent resignation.

“He’s being investigated for corruption—corruption, mind you. And he was at my party,” she cried. “Can you imagine? A criminal at one of my parties?”

“Alleged criminal,” he noted distractedly, then quickly asked her about Samantha Moore.

Katherine assured him that no one by the name of Samantha Moore had been invited to the party—not as a guest or as a date of an invited guest.

“Are you sure you didn’t just imagine this woman?”

His sister had sounded a little peeved because he hadn’t cared for the woman she’d had in mind for him. Not that Jennifer Finley hadn’t been adequate.

But she was no Samantha Moore. After Samantha, no other woman held any interest for him.

There were, however, several things about her that did cause him concern. The first of which was the Sudden and Sensuous Kiss.

And the fact that she’d literally disappeared from the party afterward. Why was that? He might have thought her shy, if not for the kiss. Or perhaps she hadn’t wanted Katherine to see her, since Samantha wasn’t, it appeared, an invited guest. Another small concern.

Neither explanation seemed to fit, but whatever the reason for her disappearance, he intended to find her. And he’d told Katherine as much.

“I just hope you know what you’re getting into,” she’d said haughtily before hanging up.

Did he? He’d assured himself with his usual confidence that he could handle whatever there was to learn about the woman. After all, unless he was completely wrong about her, she was going to be his wife.

And he was seldom wrong about things.

Two days later, on a hot, late-fall afternoon, he found her quite by accident. She was sitting in a blue Firebird in Wolf Point, Montana, her attention on something in the opposite direction from him.

He’d literally done a double take when he saw her as he drove past. She didn’t look anything like she had at Katherine’s party. And yet, he’d have known her anywhere.

His first impulse was to get out of his car and walk up to her driver’s window. She had it rolled down, and was leaning back in the seat as if waiting for someone in the shade of the trees lining the quiet street.

He pulled over half a block past her car and walked back, coming up behind the Firebird. The car had plates for Silverbow County—a county clear across the state from where he’d first seen her. He wondered what she was doing in Wolf Point—sitting in a car this far from home. If her home even was in Silverbow County. And the car seemed all wrong for the woman he’d met at the party. Maybe she’d borrowed it from a friend.

As he approached the Firebird on the passenger side, watching the side mirror as he advanced, he was even more intrigued by this woman. Strangely, he had the feeling she might bolt if she saw him. Or maybe not so strangely. After all, she had disappeared from the party without a word—and after that very intimate kiss.

He’d almost reached her car when he heard the engine turn over. He wasn’t about to let her get away again. Impulsively, he rushed forward, grabbed the passenger side door handle and pulled. The door swung open, and he jumped in.

SURPRISE DIDN’T EVEN come close to describing what Samantha felt when Will Sheridan leapt into the front seat of the Firebird. Her hand went for the pistol duct-taped beneath her seat—stopping just short of the weapon when she recognized him.

“Hello,” he said, reminiscent of their first encounter. Except for the lack of champagne.

“Will Sheridan?” She stared at him openmouthed and tried to get her heart rate back to near normal.

He grinned. “You remembered.”

Not likely that she’d forget. However, she’d never dreamed she’d see him again. And certainly not here. Certainly not now. What could the man possibly be doing so far from where she’d met him? Not to mention his timing, which was nothing short of amazingly bad.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Looking for you.”

Oh, no, this didn’t sound good. He must have found out that she was the one who busted the commissioner at his sister’s party.

“Imagine running into you here in Wolf Point,” he said, his look questioning, suspicious. Not surprising under the circumstances.

It was beyond even her imagination. She’d sized up Will Sheridan at the party and had known, even before she investigated him later, what kind of man he was. A stable, successful construction company owner with good standing in the community. Everything a woman could want. If that woman liked predictable and unimaginative. And terrible timing.

“Why were you looking for me?” she asked, already knowing the answer, wondering how she could get rid of him—short of shooting him.

“We didn’t get to talk the other night at the party.”

That stopped her. “What?”

He grinned. “I want to get to know you.”

She stared at him. He had to be kidding. “Why?”

It was the kiss, dummy.

Pleeeeze. I’ll admit it was a nice kiss—

Oh, come on. Can you even remember the last time a man made you feel like that?

Let’s not even go there.

“Why?” He laughed. “I should think it’s obvious.”

It was the kiss. She dragged her gaze away to look down the street at the tan rental car parked in front of the motel. Time was running out. She had to do something. And quick.

She tried to keep the urgency out of her voice. “Will, I’m flattered but this really isn’t a good time.” Major understatement.

He seemed to notice then how she was dressed. A jogging bra that showed a lot of cleavage and midriff. A pair of skimpy running shorts. Cross-trainers and ankle socks. No makeup. Her unruly sun-streaked brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was amazed he’d even recognized her.

“I guess my timing isn’t very good?”

Boy howdy.

He smiled and reached for the door handle. She never knew she could feel relief and disappointment at the same time.

But he didn’t get out.

“Here’s the thing. I had a little bit of a hard time finding you,” he said, turning back to her. He flashed her a hundred-watt smile. “Now, I’m afraid if I let you out of my sight you’ll disappear again, and I might not be so lucky next time.”

She stared at him. How had he found her? That was some luck.

Could be fate.

Yeah, right.

“So,” he said, appearing as conflicted as she felt.

She could understand his confusion. She’d kissed him at first sight, lied to him and disappeared. Now here she was in this rather revealing outfit in a different town, acting even more strangely. Add to that the fact that he must have gone to a lot of trouble looking for her. By now he’d know she’d lied about her name and a lot more. And here she was trying desperately to get rid of him. What he must think!

So why was he still here? Why didn’t he just turn and run?

THE LAST THING on Will Sheridan’s mind was running. Admittedly, the situation was odd, and it appeared things wouldn’t be quite as easy as he first might have hoped. But that had never stopped him when he wanted something.

And he wanted Samantha. When he looked at her he was struck by one clear thought: he wouldn’t mind waking up to that face every morning. Tiny freckles trailed across the bridge of a cute little nose, golden lashes framed wide warm sea-green eyes, suntanned skin glowed on prominent cheekbones.

She’d been stunning at the party. But without makeup, she looked…delectable.

It wasn’t just her face or her lovely body—something he could see a lot of right now. There was something…intriguing about this woman. Mysterious.

“So,” he said again, hoping she’d help him out. He watched her shoot a glance down the block in the same direction she’d been looking when he’d first seen her. He followed her gaze down the quiet street to what appeared to be a small, one-story nursing home. The sign in front read, Lazy Rest. A tan Buick was parked in the for-the-disabled space out front. The car had a rental sticker on it but no disabled decal.

He could feel her tension. It was as strong as the low-frequency hum that vibrated between them. Was she meeting someone? Was that why she wanted him out of the car? She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved. Temporarily, he hoped.

“If I could just get your phone number,” he said, wanting so much more. Home address, work number, e-mail, social security number and first-grade school photo. “I’d like to call you for a date, to start with—”

Her gaze swung around to his, her eyes wide. “You tracked me down just to ask me for a date—?”

She sounded incredulous. And almost suspicious. As if there was some other reason she thought he’d come looking for her.

“—To start with?”

Definitely suspicious now. Imagine what she’d say if he told her his real intention.

Up the block, the front doors of the rest home opened and a short, stocky man in his late thirties came down the long walkway. Was this the man she’d been waiting for? Shorty headed for the tan Buick parked at the curb.

Samantha seemed to catch the movement out of the corner of her eye. She swung around in her seat to stare in the man’s direction, tense as a tightrope walker.

“Look, you seem busy. What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight wouldn’t be good,” she said, her gaze on the man now opening the driver’s door of the Buick. “Why don’t I call you?”

Did she really think she could get rid of him that easily? “Samantha, I have no idea what’s going on here, but I’m not getting out of this car until you at least talk to me. If you hadn’t kissed me the way you had—”

SO IT HAD BEEN that blamed kiss! She’d regretted it for two days now. But only because she hadn’t been able to put it—or Will Sheridan—out of her mind. She’d wondered, what if… What if they’d met under different circumstances. What if she ran into him again?

And now she had. And at the worst possible time!

She glanced over at him. One look, and she knew he meant what he’d said. He wasn’t getting out of her car until he got some answers. Not that she could blame him. But he was making this very difficult.

She looked back to see the man getting into the rental car look back toward the nursing home, and she knew what she was going to have to do.

This is just part of the job.

Sure it is.

She threw herself into Will’s arms and kissed him. Again. Only this time she didn’t lose herself in his kiss. This time she kept it short and sweet. She couldn’t afford not to.

WILL DREW BACK from the kiss, startled by the distinct click that reverberated through the Firebird. He felt something cold and metallic, looked down at his right wrist, and was shocked to see the handcuff there. Instinctively, he pulled, only to find the other end attached to a piece of steel that had been welded under the dash. How convenient.

“Samantha?” he asked, feeling a little disoriented.

“Will, I hate to do this, but you left me no choice.” She slid out of the car before he could ask exactly what she hated to do. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

Like he was going anywhere. “Samantha?” But she was already gone, jogging toward the Lazy Rest. He thought about calling after her as he watched her run, her ponytail pendulumming back and forth—but he didn’t. What would be the point? He doubted she’d have handcuffed him to the car if anything had been up for discussion.

The short guy who’d come out of the rest home was standing by the car, looking around. He seemed edgy when he saw Samantha. Will couldn’t blame him.

She’d almost reached the tan Buick and Shorty, when she stopped beneath a large willow tree and leaned with her palms against the thick trunk to stretch her calves. Very nice calves, he noticed.

The man beside the Buick, he saw, was noticing, as well.

Just then, another man came out of the rest home, this one taller and a little less stocky, but definitely muscular. He had a kid with him, a small boy wearing a Mariners baseball cap and a navy backpack over his red jacket. The kid had the cap pulled down so low his ears stood out like thumbs from his head; a pair of headphones hung around his neck; and he cradled what looked like a CD player in his hands.

The man had one hand on the boy’s shoulder. He looked around, and noticed Samantha stretching.

Samantha straightened and started jogging again—right toward them. The man’s steps slowed as he and the boy approached the Buick, and Shorty, who was waiting there.

Samantha didn’t appear to notice as she jogged in their direction, but Will had the distinct impression she was watching them. That she’d been waiting for them to come out. And if she kept running she’d connect with them in a matter of—

“What the—”

To his amazement, Samantha tripped and fell. She tumbled onto the lawn just feet from them and grabbed at her ankle. From where he sat, he heard her cry out in pain.

He jerked on the handcuff, wanting to go to her. What had the woman been thinking, locking him up like this?

The two men seemed startled, almost leery of her, and glanced around as if looking for something or someone. The quiet neighborhood dozed in the warm fall afternoon sun as Samantha cried and hugged her ankle.

After a moment, they hesitantly stepped over to her. No doubt her skimpy attire helped convince them.

Will couldn’t hear what was being said even though the driver’s window of the Firebird was still down, but it was obvious they were offering some sort of assistance. The short one helped her to her feet. The second man released the boy to take her other arm.

She appeared afraid to put weight on her injured ankle. Slowly, she attempted a step.

Then everything happened so fast Will wasn’t even sure later what he’d seen. Maybe because he was hoping he’d just imagined it.

He watched in horror as Samantha dropped Shorty with a swift kick, sent the other man sprawling face-first onto the grass with some sort of karate chop, and grabbed the kid.

In the blink of an eye, Samantha was running back toward the Firebird with the boy in her arms. She opened the driver’s door, tossed him the kid and leaped in.

The Firebird engine roared, and she peeled out, throwing gravel and dust as she whipped a cookie in the middle of the street, then took off in a tremulous thunder of engine and speed that flattened him against his seat.

“Wow,” the kid said.

“Samantha?” Will asked quietly, the way he might talk to a disturbed patient on a mental ward. “I know this probably isn’t a good time, either, but could you tell me what’s going on here?”

The Firebird screamed around a corner. “I’d suggest you get the boy buckled in,” she said calmly. “You might want to do the same.”

Being handcuffed to the dash didn’t make the task easy, but as she took the next corner on two wheels, Will managed to get the kid buckled in between them on the bench seat before the Firebird rocked back down on all four tires. He snapped his own seat belt as she took a gravel-throwing turn.

“Nice car,” the kid said.

Will looked down at him. The boy was all of five, with large brown eyes that twinkled in a positively angelic face. Along with the Mariners cap and red jacket, he wore faded worn jeans, a Pokémon T-shirt and sneakers. The headphones still hung around his neck, with a cord that ran to the CD player cradled in his lap on the small navy backpack. Unlike Will, the boy didn’t seem all that surprised by this turn of events.

Will turned to catch sight of the Buick coming up fast. Great. “Just tell me you don’t kidnap children. I mean, this isn’t just some random thing you do, right? You know this child, right?” He looked expectantly at her, waiting.

“Only from a faxed photo of him. He’s cuter in person.” She shot the kid a quick smile, then went back to her driving, which Will was thankful for. “His name is Zackarias Lucien O’Brien, age five-and-a-half, of Seattle, Washington. That about covers it.”

“Just ‘Zack,”’ the boy said quickly. “Just Zack” didn’t appear in the least upset as Sam took a turn on two wheels.

“Am I missing something here?” Will asked.

Samantha turned onto a paved two-lane and tromped down on the gas. The car took off like a rocket.

“What is under the hood?” he yelled over the roar of the engine.

She shot him a grin. “You like it?”

Not really. He liked it when he thought she was someone else: a nice, single woman who drove a Lexus.

“Sorry about the cuffs, but I couldn’t let you ruin my show.”

She made the whole thing sound theatrical and almost innocent. He nodded, telling himself again that she’d have a good explanation for this. It was just getting harder to believe.

She glanced over her shoulder. He looked back, too. The Buick wasn’t far behind them now.

“And those men?” he enquired.

She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” She looked over at Zack. “Who are those guys?”

He shrugged, too. “They said they were friends of my birth mother’s.”

She raised a brow as she looked at the boy.

Will wished she’d keep her eyes on the road. Not that she didn’t seem capable of doing any number of things while driving. “Where exactly are we headed?” he asked, as the flat landscape flashed by in a blur and he realized they’d left Wolf Point far behind.

“Seattle, eventually. Right now—” she glanced into her rearview mirror “—anyplace where they aren’t,” she said, indicating the Buick gaining on them.

Seattle? He thought about telling her that Seattle didn’t fit into his plans. But what she did next made him lose the thought.

He watched her reach under the seat, pull out a handgun and lay it across her sun-browned thighs. He told himself he shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. How could he have been so wrong about a woman?

He wondered what Jennifer Finley was doing right now.

“You can just drop me off when you get the chance,” he said—not that she seemed to be listening. “Anywhere would do.” He noted that the Firebird was pegged at over a hundred miles an hour and that the Buick was right behind them.

“See that box on the floor at your feet?” she asked.

He looked down to see a cardboard box about eight inches square. “Yes?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d pick it up.”

Amazingly, it didn’t seem like such a strange request, all things considered.

He rattled the handcuff. “I’m not sure I can do it locked to your dash.”

She shot a look at him. “Oh, I think you can handle it.”

He wasn’t sure that was a compliment. Worse, it appeared she wasn’t ready to uncuff him.

He lifted the box from the floor with his free hand. It was much heavier than he’d expected. “What’s in here—iron?”

She didn’t answer.

He turned back the cardboard flaps on the box. At first it looked like a box full of children’s jacks, the kind his sister used to play with. Only these jacks were huge. But as he looked closer he saw that the box was packed with sixteen-penny nails welded together and ends sharpened to make large, ugly-looking multi-sided spikes.

He looked at her askance. He was in the construction business but had no idea where anyone would buy something like this, or let alone have it made. Or why anyone would want to.

As she took a curve to the left, she rolled down her side window, grabbed the box from him and hefted it out the window.

Stunned, he swung around just in time to see the box explode as it hit the blacktop. Spikes pelted the Buick’s windshield. An instant later, the Buick’s front tire blew and the car began to rock, then swerve. The Buick hit the ditch in a cloud of dust, burrowing into a small dirt hillside.

“Wow,” the kid said. He’d unbuckled his seat belt and now stood looking back as the dust settled over the Buick. “Awesome.”

Will pulled Just Zack down and got him buckled in again as Samantha slowed. She smiled down at the boy and gave him a high-five. The kid was grinning from ear to ear. This woman was not a good role model.

“I’m Samantha but most people just call me ‘Sam.”’

Just Zack turned shy.

“And this is—” her gaze shifted to Will “—Will, an acquaintance of mine.”

Passing acquaintance, he thought. What was going on? Why had she grabbed this kid? And who were those men? And more to the point, who was this woman?

He realized he was getting a headache just trying to figure it all out. And what was the point? Obviously, she was all wrong for him.

Absently, he considered what he might be doing right now if he’d listened to his sister’s advice. He glanced down at his left wrist to check the time. His watch was gone! How was that possible? He’d just had it.

“My watch—”

“Give it back, Zack,” Samantha ordered, not even looking at the boy.

Zack let out a long-suffering sigh, reached into his jacket pocket and extracted the watch.

Samantha snatched it from the kid and handed it to Will. “Sorry. I should have warned you.”

Will stared down at the boy, then at Samantha. They both looked so…innocent.

Samantha turned off the highway onto a dirt road.

“There is a good explanation for all of this, right?” he asked, sounding pathetically hopeful. He glanced over at her when she didn’t answer.

She no longer had the gun resting on her thighs. The late-afternoon sun slanted into the car, turning the wisps of hair around her face golden as she slowed the Firebird to an almost legal speed and glanced over to meet his gaze.

“There is always an explanation. I’m just not sure it’s one you’re going to like.”

Chapter Three

A fork in the road loomed ahead. Left would take her to the nearest town where she could get rid of Will. Right would put some distance between her and the kidnappers and take her to someplace safe for the night.

Relatively safe, she amended. Being around Will made her feel anything but. He reminded her too much of her girlhood dreams of love, marriage, babies and happily ever after. All the things she didn’t want to be reminded of, especially right now. That’s why she’d like nothing better than to take Will into town and be done with him.

“Just out of curiosity, how many men have you handcuffed to your dash?” he asked, jerking her from her dilemma.

“Not that many,” she said, sounding defensive even to herself. Most males gave her a wide berth. Her mother said it was because she intimidated men. “Act helpless,” her mother advised. “Men like that. Look at your cousin Shelly. Men just flock to help her. Have you ever met a more helpless woman?”

The truth was, she was no Shelly. She didn’t even think she could act that helpless.

As she slowed for the fork in the road ahead, she felt Will studying her like a bug in a mason jar.

You should never have kissed him!

Oh? What would you suggest I should have done? Get us both killed?

You could have told him the truth after the kiss.

Oh, come on, give me a break. I thought I was never going to see him again. And anyway, I liked the kiss—

“Hello?”

She blinked and glanced over at him. He was looking at her oddly. She stared out over the hood and saw that she’d stopped in the middle of the road at the fork.

“Well?” he asked, looking worried.

She glanced down at Zack. He looked worried, as well. She smiled at him and winked as if to say, No problem here. But even as she hit the gas, she wasn’t sure she was making the right decision. That alone scared her.

She took the fork to the right, heading for the hills. Will Sheridan be damned. She had to hide out for a while until the dust settled. Until she figured out what was going on. There was little doubt in her mind that something was wrong with this case.

And as for Will—well, he’d just have to cool his heels, too. She still couldn’t believe he’d tracked her down— Let alone tracked her down to ask her for a date! Her luck with men definitely wasn’t improving.

When he’d first gotten into the Firebird, she’d been so sure it was about her busting the commissioner at his sister’s party. Obviously he still didn’t realize what she’d been doing there. But when he did—

She glanced over at him. What would he do? She’d thought she had him all figured out. Until he climbed into her car and refused to get out. From what she’d learned about the man, that was so far out of character that it wasn’t even in his solar system anymore.

She eyed him, wondering what had caused such impetuous behavior.

Hello? Remember the way you kissed him at the party?

Come on, one little kiss?

She narrowed her gaze at him. Did she have reason to be concerned about what he’d do next? No, she didn’t think she could expect any more surprises out of him. What you saw was what you got: a successful businessman in control of his normal everyday life and happy about it. Except, he didn’t look all that happy right now.

She grimaced at the thought, as the Firebird left the pavement and barreled up the narrow dirt road toward the mountains. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will’s brow shoot up. She ignored his pointed look.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re not taking me to the next town where I can get out?”

“We can’t go there just yet,” she said. “But trust me, I’m as anxious to let you out of this car as you are to get out.”

“I highly doubt that.”

She groaned inwardly, wishing they could have met under other circumstances— Who was she kidding? It wouldn’t have made any difference. Eventually he’d find out the truth about her, and a man like Will Sheridan wasn’t going to take that well.

No reason to think about might-have-beens. She had to deal with now, and that was going to be challenging enough.

WILL LOOKED UP the empty road, at the sun setting behind distant low mountains, the day fading into the horizon. This was all his fault. What kind of fool spotted a woman at a party and followed her out to the patio with two full glasses of champagne, thinking to himself, This is the woman I’m going to marry?

He didn’t even want to consider what kind of fool would get into her car and refuse to get out.

Just a fool who knew what he wanted and went after it, the consequences be damned. He’d planned his life since before kindergarten, from when to become skilled at the alphabet to what point he should move on to the multiplication tables.

In high school he’d decided he wanted to construct buildings and eventually start his own construction company. He wasn’t like his college friends who changed majors four times. Or who, unbelievably, started college not even knowing what they wanted to be.

He couldn’t imagine letting life toss him around like a fallen leaf, blowing wherever the breeze took him. He had a plan—from the clothing he wore to the food he ate to the woman he wanted to marry.

So what was he doing handcuffed to the dash of this woman’s Firebird? This had definitely not been in his plan.

Worse yet, he’d never been so aware of a woman. Or less happy about it: the faint smell of her perfume, the soft sound of each breath, the warm pulsing air around her.

Not that she was making it easy to ignore her. Especially the way she was dressed. What little her sparse clothing did leave to the imagination, he had no trouble supplying.

But she was all wrong for his bride. That much was obvious. He wanted a woman with a career that at least complemented his. A woman who wanted to bear his children. Not steal someone else’s. A woman who didn’t carry a gun. Or beat up strange men in broad daylight in front of rest homes. Was he asking too much?

God, I’ll bet she hasn’t even started a 401K, he thought miserably.

He watched as she drove up a narrow dirt road as if she knew where she was going. He didn’t doubt she did.

The road ended high on a mountainside at the bottom of a rock cliff. Through a stand of dark green ponderosa pines, he spotted a house set back against the cliff.

He stared at the small wood-frame house with the two-car attached garage. The place appeared empty, the curtains drawn, no lights glowing behind them in the growing dusk.

Samantha pulled up to the garage door on the left and reached under her seat. He half expected her to come out with a weapon again. Or a crowbar to break into the place. Nothing would have surprised him at that point.

Except a garage-door opener. She hit the button, and the door groaned open, the light coming on inside to reveal a single empty bay separated from the other half of the garage by a wall with a door.

“You live here?” he asked in shock.

She shook her head as she pulled the Firebird into the space and shut off the engine. “It’s my cousin’s place.” She put an arm around Zack. “I would imagine you’re hungry.”

The boy nodded, unhooked his seat belt and stood again to look out the rear window as if he feared they’d been followed.

“You’re safe here, Zack,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” he said.

Well, I am, Will thought.

“Come on,” she said, opening her car door. “There should be food in the house.” She started to climb out.

The rattle of handcuffs seemed to stop her. Will felt her gaze finally slide to his. Her look said she didn’t know what to do with him.

He jangled the cuffs and glared at her, more angry with himself than with her. He was the one who’d foolhardily gotten into her car, the one who’d been determined to get a date with her at any cost. Little had he known.

“Sorry.” She dug into the glove box, came up with the key and handed it to him. Why hadn’t he thought to look in there? Because he’d been too engrossed in this woman’s outlandish activities. Awkwardly, he unlocked the cuffs, not looking at her.

“I hate to tell you, but we need to stay here for the night,” she said. “In the morning, I’ll take you to town and rent you a car. I’m afraid that’s the best I can do. I have my reasons.”

He was sure she did. And he didn’t want to know them. Under normal circumstances, he’d have called a taxi. Or demanded she take him now to the nearest town.

But he doubted it was as simple as demanding she take him anywhere. Or calling a taxi. He wasn’t even sure where they were or how far it was to the next town.

And he had gotten himself into this.

“Fine,” he said. “But I can rent my own car.” He handed her the cuffs and key, and she and the boy got out. What was one night? But as she opened the Firebird’s trunk and took out her overnight bag, he reminded himself to watch her more closely should she ever kiss him again.

She put an arm around the boy as she opened the door to the house and ushered him in.

Will followed, not surprised to find the house compact, the decor simple, practical and very male. The air inside was cold and a little musty, as if whoever lived here hadn’t been around for a while.

“Would you mind building a fire while I change, and then I’ll scare us up some food?” she asked as she headed for what appeared to be the smaller of the bedrooms. “There’re split logs out back. I’m sure Zack will help you.”

SAMANTHA DIDN’T WAIT for an answer, just hurried off to get into less revealing clothing. From her bag, she took out jeans and a cable-knit Irish wool sweater. She caught her reflection in the mirror on the back wall and froze. Most of her hair had come out of the ponytail and now hung around her face in curls. She pulled out the scrunchie and ran her fingers through her hair, not wanting to take the time to find a brush.

The truth was, she didn’t want to look as if she’d been primping. Or that she might be interested in Will Sheridan. It was obvious he wouldn’t be asking her for a date when she dropped him off at the first town in the morning. This time, she knew she wouldn’t be seeing him again. Once more she couldn’t help feeling disappointed—and relieved. He was all wrong for her, anyway.

She headed for the kitchen and quickly busied herself making dinner, as she listened to Zack and Will bring in wood.

Moments later, Zack appeared in the doorway. “Can I play a game on the computer?” he asked.

She glanced down at him, shocked suddenly by how small and vulnerable he looked. She wanted to take him in her arms and reassure him. But she could feel the wall the little boy had built around him, and knew that sometimes such walls were all that kept a person standing.

She knelt down and gently touched his shoulder. “Of course, you can. Do you need help?”

He shook his head.

“Zack, I knew your mom and dad in college,” she said. “Your mom’s the one who hired me to find you.”

He nodded as if none of that mattered. “Can I play the games now?”

“Sure.”

A few minutes later she heard the distinct sound of a computer game coming from the other room. She’d never been much of a computer-game person, but her cousin Charley who lived out on the West Coast could play for hours.

She peeked around the doorjamb. Will crouched in front of the woodstove. Not far away, Zack was on his knees in the chair in front of the computer, his small dark head silhouetted against the screen, reminding her of his father. A wave of regret washed over her, weighing down her heart. She hurriedly turned back to her cooking.

Soon the sound of the crackling fire in the woodstove and the faint hint of pine smoke drifted into the kitchen—along with Will.

He seemed to set the air around her in motion as he leaned against the wall beside the stove and watched, his arms folded across his chest, a frown on his handsome face.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She’d been expecting this. And dreading it. Obviously he’d gotten the wrong impression at his sister’s party. She hated to disappoint him further.

“My name is Samantha. Samantha—” she shot him a sheepish look “—Murphy.”

He nodded as if not surprised that she’d lied to him. She could see herself drop another notch in his eyes. At this rate she’d reach bottom in no time.

“I’m a private investigator.”

He sighed. That obviously wasn’t what he’d been hoping for, either. “You have some ID, I assume?”

She retrieved her purse from the bedroom and handed him both her driver’s license and private investigator’s ID.

He glanced at them, then at her, then handed them back. “Butte?”

She nodded, biting her tongue not to add, Want to make something of it? Butte wasn’t exactly considered scenic Montana, but she liked the old mining city, even with its open pit and its reputation as the “butte” of jokes.

“And the party?” he asked simply.

“I was on a job.” She waited for him to put two and two together. But he didn’t seem interested in what she’d been doing there.

“And the kiss?” he asked, getting to the heart of it.

She took a breath, reluctant to tell him that she’d used him as cover. “I liked it,” she said, unconsciously licking her upper lip. “A lot.”

His chuckle was short on humor. “I wasn’t asking for a rating.”

She turned away to dump a can of broth into the pot on the stove. Just get it over with, once and for all. “Okay, I used you. You came along at just the right time. You were cover.”

“COVER?” His ego went down to the mat for a ten-count.

She mugged an apologetic face over her shoulder. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Obviously. “Well, I think that covers that.” It just kept getting better. He stared at her, her back straight, shoulders tensed as if she were anticipating a blow.

She’d taken her hair out of the ponytail. It fell around her shoulders in golden waves, the same color as the freckles across the bridge of her nose.

He reminded himself that this woman had fooled him. True, the only real lie she’d told him was her name the night of the party. He wasn’t sure a “kiss for cover” constituted a lie. Possibly.

Everything else about her he’d made up himself. Because he’d wanted her to be the woman he thought she was. What a fool.

“Zack was kidnapped,” she said, when he didn’t ask.

Will told himself he didn’t really want to hear this. The less he knew, the better.

“I was hired to bring him back with the least amount of fanfare.”

He stared at her. “In other words, without the authorities knowing anything about it?”

“Something like that.”

Her evasiveness made him suspect there was a whole lot more he didn’t want to know.

He’d seen this sort of thing on late-night TV. People who specialized in stealing back children. Usually, though, the kidnapper was the parent who’d been denied custody. And the private investigator—Well, none of them looked like Samantha Murphy, that was for sure.

“And your plan?” he enquired against his better judgment. Mostly, he just wanted her to have a plan. Any plan. Just some common ground between them.

“Get him back to Seattle as quickly and safely as possible.”

He eyed her askance. “That’s it?”

She shrugged. “It’s the best one I have right now.”

It was obvious she went through life flying by the seat of her pants. And although she had one very fine seat, the whole concept appalled him.

“What if those two guys show up again?” he persisted.

“It’s unlikely they will, but I really didn’t expect them to chase us in the first place,” she said, and frowned. “Kidnappers routinely run the other way.”

He supposed she should know. “But still—”

“I’ve found you can’t really plan for most things, anyway.”

He would have argued that point twenty-four hours ago. Now he just studied her, wondering about the note of regret in her voice. He wondered who had let her down. Probably a man.

He knew he wasn’t getting the whole story. About the kidnapping. About Samantha. He hated to think just how much more there was to the story. And to this woman. He felt as if he’d only skimmed the surface, and that was terrifying enough.

“Why you and not the police?”

She dropped her gaze. “It’s complicated.”

He’d just bet it was. He reminded himself he didn’t want the whole story. But it did make him wonder. Who was he kidding? Everything about this woman made him wonder, when he should be concentrating on how he was going to get back to his own life. His birthday was rapidly approaching, and he hadn’t found what he was looking for yet.

Well, not exactly.

He watched her cook for a moment, liking the image she made. “What about the boy’s family?” he asked, unable not to. Zack had said the men who’d kidnapped him claimed they were friends of his “birth mother.” Odd words coming out of the mouth of a five-year-old.

She took a breath. “In a nutshell? He’s been living with his father in Seattle. There was a burglary at the computer company where Lucas worked. Now Lucas is missing and wanted for questioning by the police. Zack was at a friend’s house when he was abducted.”

“Where’s his mother?”

She stirred at the pot on the stove. “Cassie?”

He raised a brow. “How many mothers does the kid have?”

“Just Cassie, his birth mother who left when he was a baby, and his ex-stepmother Mercedes, who left after less than a year of marriage.”

This could explain the kid’s budding criminal career. It sounded as if the boy had been left more times than a Greyhound bus station. Will felt bad for him, knowing what that kind of instability did to a kid.

Well, at least Zack had Samantha now. And as unconventional as her methods were, she’d obviously go to any extreme to keep the boy safe.

But Will still couldn’t help worrying about her and the kid. “Is it just me, or isn’t it a little strange that first you have the burglary at the computer company where the father works, then the father’s disappearance, then the son’s kidnapping? And where do the kidnappers take the kid? To a rest home in Wolf Point, Montana.”

She wiped her hands on the apron around her waist and looked over at him. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Right.” And none of his business. “What can I do to help with dinner?”

He followed her sudden glance to the doorway. Zack was peering around the door frame, looking as sweet and innocent as any child Will had ever seen. Except, it was obvious the kid had been eavesdropping, hovering there long enough to hear most—if not all—of their conversation.

He checked to make sure he still had his watch. And his wallet.

“We were just talking about the men who abducted you,” she said, no doubt assuming, as he did, that Zack had been listening for some time. “Do you have any ideas why they did that?”

Zack shrugged.

“Not a clue, huh?” she persisted. “What about your dad? Any ideas where he might be?”

He shook his head and looked away. “Is dinner almost ready?”

She eyed the boy but didn’t push it. “Just about. Why don’t you help Will set the table.” She glanced in Will’s direction for consent.

Will realized he was hungry. Whatever she’d cooked up smelled wonderful. “Just point us to the dishes.”

They ate a surprisingly delicious casserole at the kitchen table. He was a little in awe of her ability to throw something this good together so quickly and with only a few ingredients. The woman did seem to have some burgeoning spousal talents. It was her other talents that concerned him.

Zack ate without a word, nodding or shaking his head when Samantha tried to draw him into a conversation. Finally she gave up.

After dinner and dishes, Will went into the living room while she put the boy to bed.

Leaving the bedroom door ajar, she joined him in front of the fire. He’d been staring into the flames when she approached. He found himself still very aware of her. And very curious. More curious than he should have been, considering she didn’t fit into his plans.

“How did you get into a profession like this?” he asked, still wishing she did anything else.

She warmed her hands in front of the fire, her gaze on the flames. The light played on her face. She really was beautiful in an innocent, wholesome sort of way. The irony of it didn’t escape him.

“My father and uncle and some of my cousins are cops, some others are private investigators.” She shrugged. “It was that or become a mortician.”

He knew she was joking, but a mortician sounded good to him right now. He watched her glance toward Zack’s bedroom, and saw the worry in the little furrow between her brows, in the slope of her strong shoulders, in the depths of her bottomless blue-green gaze. He warned himself to stay out of it.

He’d interfered enough just getting into her Firebird, refusing to get out and asking a lot of questions. Samantha knew what she was doing. She did this sort of thing all the time, right? And the kid, well, she’d find the boy’s father. Or get Zack to one of his mothers.

Tomorrow, as soon as they found a car rental agency, airport or bus station, Will would be returning to his well-planned, safe and simple life. And his quest for a bride. He doubted his path would ever cross Samantha’s again, and wondered why it had even once, let alone twice.

His gaze fell on her face, and he felt that same strong pull he had at the party. What was it about this woman that tugged at him like a hangman’s noose?

Before he could stop himself, he took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her to him. This time the kiss was all his idea. And a bad one at that. Her lips parted, and she leaned into him as if drawn by a force of her own. He drew her closer, tasting her, teasing her tongue with his, feasting on her luscious inviting mouth, taking but wanting more. So much more.

She pulled back first, her eyes dark with desire. And quiet despair. She didn’t have to say a word. They both knew how impossible this was.

He reminded himself that his birthday was only days away. Just the thought of his self-imposed deadline to find a prospective mate made him grit his teeth. He should be out looking. Not kissing this shamus/child-napper.

“We should get some sleep,” she said. “We leave early in the morning.”

“I’ll take the couch,” he said hoarsely. There was only one other bedroom aside from the one Zack was in.

She didn’t put up an argument. Probably decided to let him have a little control over his life. How thoughtful. She got him some bedding and then bid him good-night, disappearing into the second bedroom but leaving the door ajar.

He stood before the fire for a long time, staring into the flames, feeling anxious and wide-awake, the kiss still coursing through him like high-voltage electricity, giving him a buzz, making him jittery.

After a while, the fire burned down and his heart rate slowed. The fire inside him cooled. He returned to his usual sensible self again, and went to look in on Zack.

The little boy was out, a slight smile on his cherub face. The kid was cute. He had his arm around his backpack as if everything he cared about was inside. Will wondered if that was true. What had this boy’s life been like? And how had he become such an adept thief at such a young age?

Will smiled wryly, remembering his own childhood. He wondered if he didn’t have more in common with Zackarias Lucien O’Brien than anyone would have suspected.

He left the bedroom door partially open and glanced into the other bedroom. Samantha was curled in a fetal position, the covers kicked off. He stepped in and quietly pulled the quilt up over her slim frame. In slumber, she had Zack’s childlike angelic sweetness about her.

Unless you noticed the barrel of her pistol sticking out from under her pillow.

Chapter Four

Samantha woke just before daybreak, the dream so real she jumped out of bed, her heart pounding, and rushed in to check on Zack.

Curled in the middle of the double bed, he looked even smaller and more vulnerable than usual. She felt her breath catch at the sight of his tiny sleeping form. So young. So alone. So scared.

She knew how he felt. Since the night of the party, her life had been thrown into spin cycle. Lucas missing, suspected of a burglary at the computer company where he’d worked. The police looking for him. Zack kidnapped. And her house ransacked.

She thought about the kidnappers and what Will had said about them taking the boy to the rest home. It didn’t make any sense. Unless you knew Lucas.

So why hadn’t he called again? She’d been so sure he would. From the moment Cassie had contacted her, Samantha had believed Lucas was behind Zack’s so-called kidnapping, just as Cassie had. She’d been convinced of it when she’d learned from her cousin Charley, the cop, that Lucas had purchased two train tickets to Wolf Point. She hadn’t been surprised when she’d found the kidnappers had taken Zack to Wolf Point to his great-grandmother’s rest home.

That theory began to unravel when Lucas didn’t show up; when she found out that Lucas’s grandmother, Gladdie O’Brien, had Alzheimer’s and didn’t know anyone, including Lucas, and hadn’t for months. But Samantha hadn’t gotten worried until the kidnappers had chased her after she’d snatched Zack. They hadn’t looked like friends of Lucas’s. They’d looked like thugs, not computer geeks.

Maybe the train tickets had been a red herring, and Cassie was wrong about Lucas setting up the kidnapping. But why would anyone else kidnap Zack? What had the kidnappers hoped to accomplish? And, just as Will had noted, why take the boy to Wolf Point, Montana, to a rest home? Why no ransom demand?

When Lucas hadn’t shown up by the second time the kidnappers took Zack to the rest home, Sam had known she had to act—and quickly. She’d left a message with the head nurse for Lucas to call her on her cell phone, and she’d grabbed Zack from the kidnappers.

She’d counted on Lucas calling, convinced he was alive and had set this up to be with his son. But if that were true, then where was he? Why hadn’t he called? Maybe something had detained him or— She didn’t like to consider the alternative. That something had happened to him.

But if she was wrong about the kidnapping, then maybe she was wrong about why the kidnappers had taken Zack to the rest home. Were they looking for Lucas for another reason aside from giving him his son? Or were they looking for something else?

She closed her eyes, her head aching. There was only one thing she could be sure of: Lucas loved his son and wouldn’t have left him unless he had to. She knew Lucas.

She leaned down to brush a lock of hair back from the boy’s face, feeling a surge of affection so strong it almost dropped her to her knees. This child could have been hers. Should have been hers.

Those kinds of thoughts got her nowhere, she reminded herself. Instead she needed to concentrate on getting Zack safely to Seattle. Then what? Ideally, Lucas would turn up with a good explanation for his disappearance.

But she wasn’t counting on that. Cassie had hinted that Lucas might be in some sort of trouble. If she wanted answers, she’d have to get them from Cassie. Or Zack. She suspected the boy knew as much as anyone about what was going on. But for some reason, he was either afraid or unwilling to tell her.

When she’d questioned him last night, he’d definitely seemed frightened. But why wouldn’t he be? His father was missing and strangers had kidnapped him. That would be enough to scare any kid.

She shook her head. Normally, she operated on instinct. But now her instincts were telling her they couldn’t be trusted. She was too personally involved. Add to that Will Sheridan. No wonder she was having nightmares.

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