Duets™

Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

Duets Vol. #75

Isabel Sharpe kicks off the month with a very special Double Duets on the theme of “manhunting.” Enjoy the chase as these heroines track down the men of their dreams! This writer “pens a fresh tale with solid characterization and snappy dialogue…” says Romantic Times Magazine.

Duets Vol. #76

Two talented new writers join the Duets lineup this month! Please welcome Sandra Kelly and Wendy Etherington, who have crafted two funny related tales about heroines fixing up “money pits”—and the romantic chaos that ensues with the heroes in their lives! Enjoy.

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

Suiteheart of a Deal

Sandra Kelly

My Place or Yours?

Wendy Etherington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Suiteheart of a Deal

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

My Place or Yours?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Suiteheart of a Deal

Sandra Kelly

“It’s my parents!” Beck exclaimed.

“They can’t find out we’re not a real couple—it’ll ruin everything!” Rainey added.

His eyes traveled up the stairs. “The bedrooms! The separate bedrooms! Quick, we have to move your things into my room!”

“But why?” Rainey huffed.

“They’ve driven a huge distance. They’ll want to stay overnight.”

In a flash they charged into her room. While she hastily pulled together the unmade bed, he yanked her clothes from the closet.

“Hurry!” Beck ran into his room with a truckload of Rainey’s things and rushed back to her room. She frantically emptied drawers and stuffed his outstretched arms. He shot next door and returned again.

The doorbell sounded.

“Okay, you get ready and I’ll get the door.”

Before leaving, he asked, “Are we still fighting?”

“No!” Rainey wheezed. “We can’t. It’s show time.”

Dear Reader,

Love is funny, don’t you think?

My favorite love stories are always those in which there’s more going on than meets the reader’s eye. So it’s fitting that my first published novel should be about two people who are so taken with one another that they just can’t see what’s happening around them. That’s definitely the case with Rainey and Beck, two fools for love who were easily fooled. We should all be as gullible!

Special thanks to Duets editor Kathryn Lye for seeing the humor in Rainey and Beck’s situation, and to the people of Bragg Creek, Alberta, for lending me their town. The folks who live in my Bragg Creek are nutty and sneaky, but the real residents of that breathtakingly beautiful place are, I assure you, the nicest folks you’ll ever meet.

Enjoy!

Sandra Kelly

For my husband, Bob. Thanks for waiting.

1

“OKAY, SO YOU’RE, ah, married, huh? Ah, let me see now…Oh, man! Would you look at the time? I have an important meeting in, ah, in less than, ah, I’m sure it’s in less than an hour….”

Rainey Miller laughed aloud. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Never had she seen a man blush so deeply—or backpeddle so swiftly. The guy was too funny. He obviously wasn’t too bright, though.

Why would he assume that just because a woman was seated alone that she must be single? Everybody from around here knew that, aside from a few young chambermaids and reservations clerks, there were no single, available women at the Honeymoon Haven. Only couples in love, celebrating their honeymoon, or a major anniversary. This guy had to be a tourist.

When her spontaneous eruption drew curious stares from the other guests in the Haven’s quaint dining room, Rainey quickly withdrew into the shadow of the huge potted fern beside her table. The last thing she wanted was to attract the attention of the brain-damaged Lothario who had made her laugh in the first place.

For twenty minutes she had eavesdropped—unintentionally, of course—while the guy did his darndest to entice the stunning blonde seated at the next table. The plant enabled Rainey to watch the show, undetected.

And what a show it was! Hovering over the woman’s table, oozing testosterone, he had tried every dumb line in the book, right down to, “You remind me of somebody I used to know.” He had tried flattery, complimenting her on her beautiful blue eyes and sweet smile. He had offered her a “free” massage, whatever that meant. After telling him twice to get lost, the poor woman had finally been reduced to muttering, “Look, buster, I’m married. I’m on my honeymoon, and my husband will be here any minute!”

Romeo’s immediate and lightning-fast retreat was just about the funniest thing Rainey had ever seen. He might not be a Rhodes Scholar, but she would give him points for cheesy charm.

When he backed away from the table, she got a better look at the guy. My, but he was gorgeous. Tall and athletically built, with a mop of shoulder-length dark-blond hair fingered back from a classically handsome face. He had high cheekbones and full, sensuous lips that promised unspeakable pleasures. Rainey found herself staring at those lips and wondering how the blonde could resist them—married or not.

On second glance, Romeo didn’t look like a tourist. Rainey had spent all her childhood summers in this sleepy little town just west of Calgary. She could easily distinguish the locals from the imports. Everything about Romeo screamed local. The faded jeans, the unbuttoned flannel shirt over a dark-blue T-shirt, the scuffed hiking boots. Plus he had the wind-whipped complexion of an outdoorsman. The tourists usually had delicate city skin and were turned out in stiff new duds straight from the L.L. Bean catalogue.

Rainey sighed. Ever since her breakup with Trevor last month, she had hardly glanced at a man, much less noticed a finely sculptured mouth. One thing was for sure, if she ever got involved with another man, it definitely wouldn’t be someone like superstud here. She could tell just by looking at him that he was a flake. No sooner would you fall head over heels for the guy than he’d start mumbling that he just couldn’t make a commitment “at this time.” Meaning, of course, that he just couldn’t make one with you.

Or worse, he’d win your heart, then make a play for your best friend, the way Trevor had for Rainey’s friend, Dana.

Besides, Rainey wasn’t here to get caught up in another messy romance. She was here to take her rightful place as owner and general manager of the Honeymoon Haven, Canada’s most famous getaway for lovers, in the beautiful town of Bragg Creek, Alberta. She had worked hard for it and she was ready. Well, almost ready.

Learn everything there is to know about running a hotel, and when I pass on I’ll leave the Haven to you. That’s what Rainey’s childless great-aunt Lilly had told her when she was just a kid. Rainey took the offer seriously. She grew weary just thinking about the ten long years she toiled nights and weekends at the Royal York Hotel in Toronto while dozing through business courses during the day. It was a grueling life. No fun whatsoever. But she had done it. Lilly had passed away peacefully last week, and Rainey’s time had come. Now if only she could get over her terror.

She was wrestling with that emotion when Romeo finally spotted her. Oh, no. He was coming her way, mischief plastered all over his stubbled mug.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he murmured, placing his hands flat on Rainey’s table and locking eyes with her. “A beautiful woman, all alone.” He gave her what he undoubtedly thought was an irresistible smile.

How charming. And what a waste. He had about as much chance of scoring with Rainey as he had of being abducted by aliens. Less, actually.

She glanced at her watch. It was nearly one o’clock. After a sleepless night followed by a turbulent, early-morning flight from Toronto to Calgary, she was exhausted. She had just enough time to catch a nap and freshen up before her three o’clock meeting with Lilly’s attorney. On the telephone this morning he had advised her of last-minute changes to Lilly’s will, changes he couldn’t discuss over the phone. She would shake Romeo off quickly. In the meantime, why not have a little fun?

She ventured a coy smile and nodded in the direction of the blonde. “Surely you must be exhausted from trying to pick up beautiful women.”

Romeo’s grin quickly dissolved into a pout. “Ouch! That wasn’t very nice, was it?” Recovering quickly, he added, “Besides, I never get tired of picking up beautiful women, especially women as gorgeous as you.”

While Rainey laughed, his amber eyes took in her dark, shoulder-length hair, her heart-shaped face, her slender neck and the cleavage showing just above the top of her scooped-neck blouse. Rainey knew she should have thrown the blouse away. She was a little too well endowed for it.

She shook her head. “You’re some piece of work, aren’t you?” It was a lame retort, but it was the best she could do. Rainey wasn’t intimidated by them, but neither was she used to guys like Romeo here. Sexual predators on the prowl. Trevor may have been a wolf, but he came across as a lamb.

Superstud cocked his head sideways and gave her a playful look. “I could be the man of your dreams, if you’d just give me the chance.”

A crazy thought popped into Rainey’s head: Honey, you are the man of my dreams; you just aren’t the man of my reality.

“Really, how so?” Feigning deep interest, she let her green eyes slide over him just as seductively as his had slid over her. What was the harm? He was about to strike out anyway.

He sighed wearily. “Well, first of all, let’s get one thing out of the way. Are you on your honeymoon?”

“Nope.”

His dark-blond eyebrows shot up. “Married?”

“Nope.”

He took a deep breath and made a big show of expelling it. “Whew, it must be my lucky day. Okay, then, here’s what would happen…” Before Rainey could object, he dropped into the chair next to hers. “We’d start the evening with a nice meal at the Bragg Creek Steak Pit. Ever heard of it?”

Rainey nodded. She and her parents had dined there at least once a week, all those summers ago. The food was fabulous.

“Terrific. Then we’d take a stroll through town, just so the locals could see what a good score you made.” He actually kept a straight face while awaiting her reaction.

Good score? Good grief! If this guy wasn’t the most arrogant, conceited jerk who had ever lived, Rainey sure would like to meet his competition. “Of course,” she purred. “That’s a given. Then what would we do?”

“Then we’d retire to my cottage out on Bear Road. Did I tell you that I own a beautiful cottage?”

“Nope. We hadn’t got that far. We were still in town, showing off my good score.”

He nodded earnestly. “Well, I do. Then we’d strip you down to your undoubtedly gorgeous birthday suit and I’d give you a long, slow massage. On the house, of course.”

At the mention of the words long and slow, Rainey felt a serious blush coming on. But hey, there was no way she was going to fall under the spell of this frivolous creature. No, sir. And what exactly did he mean by “on the house?”

She peeked at her watch again. It was almost time for the fun to end. “Need I ask what we would do after that?”

In a voice more seductive, more nakedly intimate than any voice she had ever heard, he leaned forward and murmured, “That’s easy. I’d make you forget every man you’ve ever known.”

Rainey blinked. For one fleeting moment, Mr. Insincerity had sounded almost, well, sincere. As if he couldn’t think of anything in the world he would rather do, or anyone he would rather do it with.

Whoa! Wait a minute. There you had it. There was the power of the hunter to entice his prey just before snaring, and then devouring, it. That she had been enticed, even for a millisecond, left Rainey feeling foolish. She wasn’t about to be devoured—not again. She grabbed her purse and stood to leave. There was no check to pay, of course. The owner of the Honeymoon Haven dined for free.

“Look,” she said curtly, “I have to run. It’s been fun chatting with you. Best of luck on the hunt.”

Jumping to his feet, Romeo seemed genuinely disappointed. “Hey, not so fast! I didn’t get your name. Let’s get to know one another.”

Rainey laughed derisively. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not exchange names. I’m going to file this little encounter away under the heading ‘Anonymous.’ Or maybe ‘Meaningless.”’

He feigned devastation. “Meaningless? Now there you go again, hurting my feelings. I thought we had something here. I thought we really, you know, connected.”

Right, thought Rainey, I know what kind of connection you’re looking for! Shaking her head, she tried to ease past the flake without brushing up against him, but it proved impossible. The tables were placed too close together, and the huge potted plants between them didn’t help. She made a mental note to lose the greenery and reconfigure the room.

Romeo stood fast and she had no choice but to clutch one of his muscular arms, to steady herself as she made her way around him. It was either that or fall into the plant. “Well, you thought wrong,” she snapped.

He finally stepped aside and let her pass, but not before taking one last shot. “Hey, look, I meant what I said about wanting to get to know you. You give as good as you get. I like that in a woman.”

There it was again, that well-rehearsed sincerity. Rainey wasn’t buying it, but she was charmed nonetheless. She offered him a small, conciliatory smile. “Uh-huh, and I suppose you’re going to tell me now that I have beautiful eyes, and that I remind you of somebody you used to know.”

Thrilled to have captivated her a few seconds longer, he leaned forward and gushed, “You do have beautiful eyes. What are they? Green? Hazel?”

“Green,” Rainey called over her shoulder as she marched out of the dining room and into the wide corridor leading to the lobby. Why was she still talking to this jerk? And why was he following her? He’d given up on the blonde pretty quickly. Of course, she hadn’t cut him one inch of slack. Rainey should have known better than to flirt with a flirt.

Close on her heels, he declared, “And, for your information, you don’t remind me of anyone. You’re an original.”

Rainey abruptly stopped and turned around, and Romeo crashed into her. “Whoa there!” He grasped her forearms. When she didn’t fall, he released her, but not before lightly caressing the bare skin below her short sleeves. His touch felt strangely soothing.

“Look, buster,” Rainey muttered, sounding to herself like the exasperated blonde, “I’m tired and I have a very important meeting in less than two hours. It’s time for you to run along now.”

He lit up like a neon sign. “Hey, what an interesting coincidence! I, too, have an important meeting this afternoon. See, we already have something in common.”

As she turned smartly on her heel and headed for the lobby, Rainey muttered, “Oh, I doubt very much that we have anything in common.” When she reached the wide staircase leading to Lilly’s private apartment and the second-floor suites, Romeo was still on her tail, trying to persuade her that dinner at the Steak Pit, say, around seven, was definitely her best bet for tonight.

At her wit’s end, she confronted him one last time. “Surely you’re not going to follow me upstairs!”

“Aha! So you’re staying here at the inn. I may not know your name, but at least I know where to find you.” He grinned as if that were a major coup.

“Get lost!”

“Okay, okay!” Backing away, he raised both hands to signal defeat. “I know when I’m not wanted.” He tilted his leonine head sideways and wagged a finger at her. “But sooner or later you’ll be seeing me again. And I promise you won’t be able to resist me next time.”

“Oh, yes, I will,” Rainey said to herself as she climbed the creaky stairs. “You can count on it.”

STILL SHAKING HER HEAD, Rainey let herself into Lilly’s apartment—her apartment now—and locked the door behind her. She wouldn’t put it past Romeo to have followed her up the stairs. For all she knew, he might be the town nutcase. Then again, he might just be a harmless hustler. That was more likely.

Whew, but he was a hunk! Delicious was actually the word that came to mind. Too bad he was such a pest. She made a silent vow to avoid him at all costs. It probably wouldn’t be easy in a town of only five hundred people.

Strolling through the stuffy, eerily silent apartment toward the bedroom, she took her first good look at the place. The decor was floral and fussy, with an abundance of over-stuffed colonial furniture crammed together, and knick-knacks crowding every dusty ledge and tabletop. There were dozens of family photos in gilt frames, and worn cushions in every shade of pastel, and doilies and candles and incense and…Rainey did a double take. Candles? Incense? Seconds later, she spotted a Ouija board resting on a TV tray. Why on earth would Lilly have had a Ouija board?

Realizing she would have to redecorate, Rainey felt a sharp stab of guilt. How could she do that? This had been her beloved aunt Lilly’s home for nearly fifty years. Moving even a single picture would be sacrilegious. But what choice did she have? This just wasn’t her taste.

She went into the bedroom and kicked off her shoes. Lord, she was tired. There was so much to think about, so much to do. After her meeting this afternoon she would take a leisurely tour of the Haven. Frankly, the place seemed rundown. The paint in the lobby was scuffed and worn, and the carpet was threadbare in spots. She had already scheduled a meeting for first thing tomorrow with Hollis Harriman, the bookkeeper. In a brief exchange this morning, he had seemed anxious to show her the books as soon as possible.

Rainey suddenly realized just how demanding her new job was going to be. Everyone would be looking to her to make decisions and solve problems and provide inspiration. Her last position at the Royal York Hotel had been that of reservations supervisor. The job had required tact and patience, but it couldn’t compare with being general manager. With only thirty-two suites, the Haven was small stuff when compared to the Royal York, but, even so, the prospect of managing the entire operation, all by herself, was more daunting than she cared to admit.

A new feeling crept up on her now—loneliness. She was in a new town and she had no friends here, no family to provide support. Nobody to joke with, play with, confide in. She was truly alone.

She was also too tired to think about much of anything right now. After puzzling over it for a few minutes, she set Lilly’s old manual alarm clock for two-fifteen and fell across the bed, fully clothed.

She dreamed about a giant set of lips over dazzling white teeth, bearing down on her from above, ready to devour her one bite at a time.

2

“SURELY THERE MUST be some mistake! Could you…could you check again?”

Heart pounding, palms sweating, Rainey leaned forward in her chair and looked frantically at the file lying open on the polished rosewood desk. Several documents lay atop the open folder, stapled together with little blue paper corners. They looked awfully official.

Nate Frome of the firm of Wilson, Hutchinson, Frome sat on the other side of the desk. He was a tall, slender man with dark hair, the bland good looks of a television news anchor, and the brisk manner of a busy lawyer. Rainey guessed he was a few years older than she.

He nodded sympathetically. “I’m afraid there’s no mistake, Rainey. Your great aunt amended her will just six weeks ago. She was physically ill, but she wasn’t mentally incapacitated. The will is valid.”

Rainey slumped back in her chair, stunned beyond words. Half the Haven? How could Lilly have done that? How could she have left only half the inn to Rainey and the other half to some guy named Beckett Mahoney? Why, she hadn’t even left Rainey a controlling interest in the place. Instead she had doomed her to equal partnership with a total stranger. It wasn’t fair! Rainey had kept her part of their deal, but Lilly had reneged on hers. Why?

Fighting tears, she asked, “Who, pray tell, is Beckett Mahoney?”

From the look of mild disdain on his face, Rainey instantly got the impression that Nate knew this—this Mahoney person, and that he didn’t much care for him. And, furthermore, that there was a pretty good chance Rainey wasn’t going to care for him, either. A feeling of doom descended on her.

“Actually, he’s an old friend of mine, Rainey. We grew up together. Ah, well, maybe friend is too strong a word for…” Nate paused and cleared his throat. “He was a close friend of Lilly’s. He helped out around the Haven quite a bit, with repairs and that sort of thing. I think they played poker together once in a while. She was very fond of him.”

Rainey furrowed her brows. “Repairs? Is he some sort of handyman?” She envisioned an aging Mr. Fix-It, a stooped and arthritic grandfatherly type, shuffling around after Lilly with a tool kit in his hand. Terrific. Just what she needed.

“Ah, well, you might say that.” Nate chuckled. “Beck is certainly known to be, ah, quite handy.” Seeing the bewildered look on Rainey’s face, he adopted a more serious tone. “To be fair, Beck is actually a very accomplished man, Rainey. He’s licensed to fly small aircraft and gives lessons at the Springbank Airport near Calgary. He also gives ski lessons and volunteers for the Banff ski patrol. He’s a trained mountain guide and a pretty fair climber, too.”

A climber? “How old is Mr. Mahoney?”

“I believe Beck is thirty-two.”

Thirty-two. Well, that wasn’t so bad, really. At least he was only four years older than Rainey. Even so. An equal partner. She just plain didn’t want one. Arghhh! If sweet, funny, eccentric, Great-Aunt Lilly were alive, Rainey would kill her.

Nate gave her a warning look. “Rainey, you probably should know that Beck has a bit of a reputation with the ladies.”

Terrific, thought Rainey. We’ve swung all the way from handyman to ladies’ man. “What sort of reputation?”

“Ah, well, some of it is exaggerated, I’m sure, but let’s just say that Beck is well-known in these parts.”

Rainey leaned forward on her seat. “Define ‘parts.”’

“Calgary, Bragg Creek, Canmore, Banff, Lake Louise, some parts of British Columbia, maybe even Washington State…”

She slumped back again. “Okay, I get the picture.”

While Rainey battled wildly mixed emotions—on the one hand she felt cheated; on the other hand she felt relieved—Nate casually added, “Oh, I forgot to mention, he’s also a licensed masseuse. Actually, he has a salon at the Haven.”

A masseuse? Wait a minute. Hadn’t the hustler in the dining room offered to give Rainey a massage? On the house? Surely…oh, no…surely Romeo wasn’t Beck Mahoney. Then again, he must be. He was about the right age. And how many masseuses could there be in a town the size of Bragg Creek?

“Nate,” Rainey asked with mounting dread, “is Beck Mahoney tall and blond?”

“He sure is. I take it you’ve met Beck?” His expression suggested that if Rainey had met the man, she would definitely remember him.

“I may have. I’m not sure.”

“Well, you’ll be meeting him shortly.” Nate glanced at his watch. “I asked him to join us at three-thirty. Your aunt said you would probably be a little upset, and that I should speak with you first.”

A little upset? While an astonished Nate looked on, Rainey threw back her head and laughed hysterically. Romeo as a business partner! It was too rich. She had just managed to get one hustler out of her life, and now she was going into business with another. Could things get any worse?

“MAN, OH MAN, what’s with this traffic,” Beck grumbled to himself as he cruised well below the speed limit along the Trans-Canada Highway between Bragg Creek and Banff. “Don’t these people know I’m late for an important date?”

Every summer, it was the same. Tourists and more tourists, clogging up the roadways of the Bow Valley Corridor, the steadily rising stretch of land that paralleled the Bow River west from Calgary, past Bragg Creek and Canmore, to the Rockies. But it was mid-September and most of them should have packed up and gone home by now. Obviously these road hogs didn’t know when to clear out.

Beck always looked forward to the lull between the summer tourists—the hikers and climbers and fishermen—and the droves of skiers who showed up in November when the region’s numerous ski hills opened for business. It gave him a welcome break from being nice to strangers from Winnipeg and Montreal and Denver and Dallas.

Normally he used the time to do a little fishing of his own, or to help Lilly with one of her pet projects. Last year he had lovingly restored the aqua-blue 1967 Ford Fairlane she had been smart enough to keep. He chuckled, recalling how his only reward for doing the work had been the privilege of chauffeuring her and her cackling, whiskey-addled cronies from one crazy appointment to another. Facials, makeovers, color charting sessions—they couldn’t get enough. Once, he had even taken them to see a psychic in Calgary. Imagine a bunch of eighty-year-olds consulting with a psychic. Now that was optimism.

With Lilly gone—gee, he was going to miss the darn girl!—he had no particular project in mind for this autumn break. Unless, of course…Speeding up to pass a sluggish camper van with Montana plates, his mind drifted to a pair of mesmerizing green eyes framed by a pert, pretty face and a crown of dark, silky hair. The mystery woman in the restaurant. What a babe.

Beck couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman worth taking a second look at. Sure he could have his pick of women anywhere in the corridor. But he’d never met one who looked quite like her, or sounded like her—ooh, that throaty, sexy voice—or who could dish it out and take it. She was in his head now, and he sensed it was going to be hard to get her out.

Who was she? There weren’t many single women hanging around the Haven. Maybe she was somebody’s mistress. Lots of secret lovers, some quite famous, appreciated Lilly’s legendary discretion.

Nah, somehow he didn’t think so. Not in this case. She was too fine to settle for second spot.

Maybe she was a new resident in town. Nah, that was even less likely. Tourist attractions aside, Bragg Creek was mostly a bedroom community for the families who preferred its Nordic beauty and small-town friendliness to the concrete hustle and bustle of Calgary. It didn’t attract too many singles—especially gorgeous single women.

And hey, what did it matter anyway? After that scene in the restaurant, he’d be lucky if Gorgeous Green Eyes didn’t cross the road to avoid him. Talk about making a bad first impression! Maybe he should do a little damage control—go back to the Haven later today and track her down. It was crazy, and probably pointless, but he was itching to tell her: Look, don’t take me too seriously, okay? It’s just that I need something to do until…

Yeah well, why bother? Once she found out about the money, she’d be no different than the others—salivating all over him every chance she got. He’d manage to keep it under wraps for a while, but sooner or later somebody would clue her in.

Dammit, he needed to fall in love with somebody for real and get married as soon as possible. The sooner he got married, the sooner he’d be able to get his hands on the second half of his trust fund. Then he could get a law degree and give his aching knees a rest. A man couldn’t give skiing lessons forever.

Three more years before they would cut the check. It seemed like an eternity.

Too bad about the babe with the shining eyes and the voluptuous curves. He had no trouble picturing himself married to her. He’d come home every night from his thriving practice in environmental law to find her wrapped in a white silk kimono, stoking the fire in his cottage, a snifter of brandy already poured for him. It made a nice picture.

What the hell, she probably knew about the money already. After all, she’d been in town for more than ten minutes.

As the corridor’s rolling foothills gradually gave way to the steely peaks of the Rockies, Beck marveled once again at the fact that Lilly had named him in her will. Man, what a shock. It hadn’t occurred to him for one second that she would leave him something. Oh, sure, he’d done some minor repair work around the Haven, and he’d given her more than a few foot massages over the years. But that didn’t amount to much. She had treated him like a son, and he’d been happy to help out an old lady with no kids of her own.

He’d also given her a lot of his hard-earned cash. What a poker player old Lilly had been! He had called her Poker Face Miller and she had nicknamed him Beck and Call.

What could she possibly have left him? He sure hoped it was the Fairlane.

“ANGELA, you sweet thing, you’re looking mighty fine today. Mighty fine indeed.”

Calmer now but still shaky, Rainey groaned and turned halfway around in her chair. The buttery voice behind her was unmistakable. Beck Mahoney, alias Romeo, alias Superstud, alias Mr. Insincerity, had burst into the reception area adjacent to Nate’s office and managed to get all of three steps into the room before finding a woman to charm.

Through the frosted glass between the two rooms, Rainey saw the blurred image of the flustered, middle-aged receptionist waving a hand in Beck’s direction. “Oh, get away with you, Beck Mahoney!” she admonished him with a girlish giggle. Beck grasped her hand in midair and planted a kiss on the back of it. “Angela, if I were twenty years older…”

Suddenly a group of boisterous young clerks appeared out of nowhere and began to ooh and ah over a preening Beck. “All hands on Beck!” a girlish voice shrieked, and they gathered around him like a pack of starstruck groupies.

“Beck, honey,” one cried with petulance, “you said you would call me and you didn’t!”

“You told me the same thing!” someone else whined.

“Girls, girls,” Beck drawled. “Patience. There’s plenty of me to go around. Speaking of which, who wants to climb the Galatea Trail and have a picnic at Mirror Lake on Sunday?”

“I do!” they all cried.

Gently pulling free from their clutches, he said, “Okay, well, I’ll definitely be taking one of you. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, so I won’t say who it’s going to be right now. If it’s you, you’ll know soon enough.”

Groaning good-naturedly, the young women dispersed. Beck burst into Nate’s office. “Nate, old boy,” he bellowed, “I see you’ve still got a license to practise. How can that—” spotting Rainey, he stopped dead in his tracks “—possibly be?” His gorgeous mouth fell open and his face turned beet red.

Rising to her feet, Rainey managed a tight smile. “Hello, Romeo. How’s the hunt going?”

“I…” His blush actually deepened another shade. Dripping sarcasm, she quipped, “Ooh, he blushes all the time. I like that in a man.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked with wide-eyed astonishment. “For that matter, who are you?”

Nate gestured between them. “Beck Mahoney, meet Rainey Miller. Though it seems you’ve already had the pleasure.”

The look of total bewilderment on Beck’s scarlet face gradually gave way to a sheepish grin. “Well, I’ll be. Gorgeous Green Eyes is Lilly Miller’s favorite niece. I was right. This is my lucky day.”

“In more ways than one,” Rainey said dryly. “As it turns out, you’re my new business partner.”

“Your new what?” His amber eyes darted from Rainey to Nate and back again. He waved a hand in the air. “Okay, you’ve lost me now.”

Nate motioned for them to sit down and then told a bugeyed Beck what he had just told Rainey—that he was half owner of the Honeymoon Haven, effective immediately. Beck looked like he didn’t know whether to jump for joy or jump out the second-floor window onto busy Banff Avenue.

Breaking a thick silence, he murmured to himself, “Half the Haven? Man, I would have been thrilled if she’d just left me her car.”

Nate rifled through the papers on his desk. “I believe she did leave you the Fairlane.”

Beck’s eyebrows shot up. “Half of it or all of it?”

Even the humorless lawyer had to laugh at that. “Every inch of it, Beck. I assure you.”

“Cool!” Shaking his head, Beck turned to Rainey. “But I don’t get it. Weren’t you supposed to inherit the inn? That’s what she told everybody.”

“Apparently she had second thoughts,” Rainey muttered.

“No kidding!”

For the next twenty minutes, Rainey stubbornly ignored Beck’s furtive glances while Nate went over the fine details of the will, coming finally to the section on special instructions.

“As you know,” he said to Rainey, “your aunt waived a memorial service. She stipulated instead that a party be held to commemorate her life, not her death. The party is to take place at the inn, as soon as you feel ready.”

Rainey nodded. It was a wonderful idea. Lilly had been a real live wire. Nothing short of a lively send-off would do. Beck nodded, too, and Rainey felt a stab of resentment. How dare he presume to…Ah, wait a minute. He was a full partner here, whether she liked it or not.

No sooner had that thought knocked her over than Nate threw her another curve. “Rainey,” he began cautiously, “Lilly made one additional request.” He paused and she tensed. Surely there wasn’t more bad news? “She asked that her apartment at the Haven be converted to a wedding chapel. Apparently it was always a dream of hers, but she never got around to it.”

“That’s right,” Beck said. “She talked about it often.”

Rainey gasped. “A wedding chapel! But where will I live?”

“Hey, did I mention that I own a beautiful cottage?” Beck joked.

Eyes blazing, she turned toward him. “Beck Mahoney, if I hear one more word about that cottage, I’ll scream!”

He held up both hands. “Gotcha. Not one word. I promise.”

“One more thing,” Nate added. “She asked that the party be held in the chapel. I’m not sure why. Perhaps it was because she never married.”

While Beck and Nate discussed the transfer of ownership, Rainey struggled to get her thoughts in order. Her mind was spinning. No, she didn’t want a partner. Yes, she was grateful for a partner. No, she didn’t want Beck Mahoney as a partner. Yes, she…Good grief, what did he know about running an inn? He was a ski bum, for heaven’s sake. A pilot. A masseuse. A playboy!

With a not-too-discreet glance at his watch, Nate indicated that the meeting was over. Rainey thanked him, grabbed her purse and hurried out. She was halfway to her rental car when Beck caught up to her.

“Hey, lady, wait just one minute!” He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Don’t you think we should sit down and talk about this? I know you don’t think much of me, but the fact is that we’re partners now.”

“I didn’t ask for a partner!”

“I didn’t ask for one, either!”

“Yes, but…” Oh, darn. It was true. When you got right down to it, Beck was no more responsible for their predicament than she was. He was stunned, too. Obviously, Lilly hadn’t seen fit to tell him about this.

And, darn it all, as much as Rainey wanted to hate the guy, she just couldn’t. Underneath that phony charm, there was something faintly likable about him.

“Look,” she said softly. “I’m in shock, Beck. I need a little time to digest this. I expect you do, too.”

“You’ve got that right. Listen, why don’t we grab that dinner at the Steak Pit tonight? Talk things over. I don’t know about you, but I’ll be famished by seven o’clock.”

Rainey bit her lower lip. It was tempting. All she had eaten today was a salad at lunchtime, and she’d mostly picked at it. A juicy steak and a baked potato would really hit the spot. “Sure,” she muttered.

Romeo backed away, grinning. “Terrific! I’ll meet you there.”

Just then, an attractive, fire-breathing redhead burst through the throng of tourists across the street and shouted, “Beck Mahoney, you snake. You said you’d call!”

3

THE STEAK PIT was exactly as Rainey remembered it. Rustic and cozy, with dark, rough-hewn wood paneling, an assortment of copper bric-a-brac and antique-stained glass lamps that cast a soft glow over each of the small, intimate booths.

She had arrived early and been pleasantly surprised to learn that Beck had called ahead and reserved the best booth in the restaurant, near a bank of windows overlooking the dense forest and the rippling, pale-green waters of the glacier-fed Elbow River. Seated alone at their table, she gazed out the window into the woods. Shafts of twilight fell between the trees, giving the entire scene a golden glow. It took her breath away.

She was calmer now, better able to think. In the past two hours she had more or less become resigned to her fate. After all, what options did she have? One: Buy Beck out. Hah! With what? Two: Kill Beck. Sure! Go to jail. Three: Convince him to act as a silent partner and leave the running of the inn to her. Right! She couldn’t imagine the guy being silent for ten seconds.

Nope, for all intents and purposes it looked like she and Romeo would just have to get along—according to a few ground rules, of course.

Her thoughts drifted to Trevor. After the meeting with Nate Frome, she had gone back to the Haven to find two telephone messages: one from him, the other from Dana. She had called Dana back right away but got only her machine. There were no hard feelings between them. After all, it wasn’t Dana’s fault if Trevor was a jerk. His message she tossed straight into the garbage. What could he possibly have to say that she would want to hear?

Then she had wandered around the inn, poking her head into the big kitchen with its long wooden chopping table and antiquated ovens, the cluttered housekeeping quarters and each of the unoccupied suites. There were a lot of those—far too many for this time of year. It seemed to Rainey that when she was a child the inn was full all the time. She had clear memories of Lilly turning disappointed travelers away at the front desk.

Oh, well, at least the place was spotless. Rainey smiled, recalling her impromptu encounter with Freda Norman, the head housekeeper.

“I see you’re here!” someone had barked over Rainey’s shoulder as she peered into one of the empty suites. Startled, she turned around and came face-to-face with a barrel-shaped woman of perhaps sixty, with thick gray hair held back, oddly enough, with a series of purple plastic butterfly clips. Childishly cute, they seemed out of place atop the menacing scowl on her masculine face. The woman thrust out a huge hand and introduced herself as Mrs. Norman. Rainey got the message: there’ll be no first names here.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Norman.”

The women shook hands. Freda Norman had a handshake that would intimidate a grizzly bear.

“What do you think of my inn?” she shouted, even though Rainey was just inches away.

Rainey blinked. Her inn? “Well, frankly, Mrs. Norman, it looks a little tired.”

“Humph, don’t we all!” Looking Rainey up and down with mild contempt, she added, “Came out here from Tronna, huh?”

Suppressing a smile, Rainey replied, “Yes, just this morning.” Why did she think Mrs. Norman would be thrilled if she hopped on a plane and headed straight back to “Tronna?”

“Hope you had a nice trip!” Mrs. Norman growled as if Rainey were just another guest at the Haven. With that, she abruptly excused herself to carry out a final inspection of the rooms. Rainey stood there for a moment, shaking her head. There had been no welcoming remarks, no best wishes for a good working relationship, none of the professional etiquette she was accustomed to.

As for the wear and tear she had spotted this morning, that had turned out to be just the tip of the iceberg. On the outside the Haven still presented itself as a stunning example of Laurentian architecture. Its cedar roof shingles, dark wood siding and stone pillars were in relatively good shape. But inside the place was a wreck. The white plaster walls were crumbling and the oak floors creaked terribly. All the windows needed replacing and the furnishings were tired and dated. How could Lilly have let the place get so rundown?

“Good evening.”

Startled, Rainey jumped a little as Beck slid into the booth. He was clean shaven, his unruly hair neatly combed back. He smelled like sandalwood. A soft black sweater accentuated his tan and turned his amber eyes a deeper shade of gold. Up close, Rainey noticed little flecks of dark brown in those eyes.

“E-e-evening,” she stammered, annoyed with herself for suddenly being nervous. Two seconds alone with this guy and her mouth was dry, her knees trembling slightly under the table. What was it about Beck? What special power did he have with women? He was gorgeous, no question about it, but lots of men were attractive without being so darned compelling. No, Beck had something else, something special.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he murmured. Eyes glowing, he frankly appraised every inch of her that was visible above the table. Rainey felt her skin grow warm. After changing her clothes exactly seven times, she had settled on a short-sleeved, loose-fitting paisley dress that was neutral enough for a business meeting but dressy enough for dinner. Beck’s penetrating gaze made it feel like the most daring lingerie imaginable.

That was it. That was his unique gift, she realized—Beck had the rare and oh-so-useful ability to make a woman feel beautiful and sexy and cherished and safe just by paying her special attention. No wonder he was irresistible.

Well, that was fine for Beck, but she just had to resist him. They were business partners, and if there was one thing Rainey had learned at the Royal York, it was not to get involved with a colleague. Trevor had taught her that one.

She decided to hit him with ground rule number one. “You know, Beck, if we’re going to work together, I think you should stop flirting with me.”

His eyes widened. “Who’s flirting? I mean it.”

“You’re flirting. You’re always flirting.”

He shook his head. “You’re right, you’re right. I’ll try to stop. But I have to warn you—a tiger can’t easily change its stripes.” He grinned.

A pouty waitress sidled up to their table and fixed her adoring baby blues on Beck. Before Rainey could open her mouth, he took the liberty of ordering for both of them. Rainey should have been offended, but somehow she wasn’t. It was good that he had a take-charge attitude and a commanding presence. He was going to need them.

“Very good, Beck,” the waitress intoned with more meaning, strictly speaking, than a steak deserved. Then she sashayed off to the kitchen without so much as a backward glance at Rainey.

Beck turned his full attention to Rainey again. “I think if we’re going to work together we should get to know one another. I already know a little about you.”

“Oh, really? What do you know?”

“I know you were born and raised in Toronto. I know you vacationed here every summer until about five years ago. You’re an only child. You don’t smoke or use any drugs. You seldom drink and always socially. Your favorite color is yellow. You’re a hard worker. And you’re smart, but you lack self-confidence.” He picked up a bread stick and chomped on it.

Rainey couldn’t believe her ears. “How do you know all that?”

“Loose-lipped Lilly. She talked about you all the time.”

“Okay, what about you? I don’t know a thing about you except that you’re a hopeless flirt.”

“Okay, okay, I’m a fourth-generation native of Edmonton, but I prefer to live in Bragg Creek. I have twin brothers, both married, and three nephews. I love to ski. I love to fish. I love to fly. I went to college but didn’t quite graduate.” He grinned. “So many parties, so little time.”

Right, Rainey thought. So many women, so little time.

“I don’t smoke or use any drugs,” he continued, “but I like a brandy on a cold winter night.” He fell silent and gave her a dreamy, almost melancholy look. “Did I tell you, Rainey Miller, that you’re a knockout?”

She shot him a warning look. “You’re doing it again, Beck.”

“Darn! I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe we should talk business.”

“Okay. What do you know about running an inn?” Rainey meant to sound merely inquisitive, but somehow the words came out sounding like a challenge.

“Less than nothing,” Beck admitted with a shake of his head. “But I’m willing to learn. What do you know about fixing one? I expect you’ve had a look around the Haven.”

Rainey nodded. “What on earth happened? That inn was Lilly’s pride and joy.”

With a shrug, Beck replied, “Well, partly, she just got old, I guess. Lost her enthusiasm for it. And partly, I think she just wanted to have a little fun before her time was up.” Rainey gave him a questioning look, and he explained, “I may be wrong, but I think she borrowed some money against the inn last year, to buy a few personal pleasures.”

She asked what kind of pleasures, and Beck told her about some of the crazy stuff Lilly and her cronies had done.

“Her cronies?”

“Yeah. There’s a service club in town called the Women of the Wapiti,” he explained. “They raise money for charity, visit the sick…”

“Women of the what?” Rainey’s laugh startled the nearby diners.

“The Wapiti. It’s a big deer. They’re all over the roads here. Anyway, Lilly was a member. My grandmother is a member. So is Freda Norman.” His eyebrows shot up. “Have you met Freda?”

Rainey rolled her eyes. “I had the pleasure this afternoon.”

He snorted. “Yeah, well, don’t be too quick to judge her. She’s actually the sanest employee there.” Ignoring Rainey’s frown, he continued, “Anyway, the three of them blew a bundle last year and the year before on trips. Caribbean cruises, little jaunts to Cancun, that sort of thing. There was other stuff, too, but you’ll know about it soon enough. I suspect Lilly paid for all those trips.”

Before Rainey could digest that information, their food arrived. “Hope your steak is okay, Beck,” the waitress purred. Once again, she ignored Rainey. With nothing more than a curt nod, Beck said he was sure it would be fine. Ooh, but he was smooth. They obviously knew one another. Rainey could just smell a history coming off them. But Beck was with another woman tonight. Like all poker players, he knew which card to play.

Between bites of the delicious, perfectly cooked food, they talked about the repairs that needed to be done, and about the vacancy problem. Rainey commented that an inn like the Haven should be fully booked all year round. Some fresh marketing strategies would have to be developed.

“You know, you’re right about that,” Beck said. “I don’t know much about marketing, but just for starters, don’t you think the name Honeymoon Haven is a little dated? I mean, it’s kind of corny, isn’t it?”

Pleasantly surprised, Rainey nodded. That very thought had occurred to her just this morning. Obviously there was more to Beck than just dazzling good looks and a beautiful body and a simmering sexiness that could reduce a woman to mush in two seconds flat. Maybe, just maybe, this partnership thing was going to work out after all.

Then again, maybe not. Time would tell.

When the meal was over, Beck ordered two brandys for them, then sat back and searched Rainey’s eyes. She returned his soul-searching gaze and the air grew thick around them. Finally he ventured, “So, ah, I guess this business partnership thing sort of rules out other kinds of partnership, huh?” He gave her a look of such hangdog disappointment that Rainey nearly laughed. Instead, she replied, “I don’t get involved with colleagues, Beck.” Or with hustlers like you.

“Hmmm.” He tilted his brandy snifter from right to left so that the gold liquid, so much like his eyes, sloshed gently from side to side. “Maybe you should buy me out,” he murmured in the soft, seductive tone he had obviously mastered. “Then I can devote myself to trying to get you into bed. Seems like way more fun than running an inn.”

Rainey was instantly grateful for the dim lighting; it concealed the hot blush that spread up through her skin like wildfire. It wasn’t hard to imagine making love with Beck. On the contrary…But it was out of the question. Working with Trevor after their breakup had been a miserable experience, but at least she had been able to get away from him by climbing on a plane and coming west. How would she get away from this guy?

Because as surely as he was drop-dead gorgeous, Beck Mahoney would break her heart. He had said it himself: A tiger can’t change its stripes.

“Don’t you ever quit, Beck?” she asked with a weary sigh.

“I guess not. Maybe I am hopeless.”

It was time for ground rule number two. “Beck, I think we need to do more than stop flirting. For the sake of the partnership, I think we should agree to keep our business and personal lives separate.”

For a second, he looked devastated. As usual, he recovered at the speed of sound. “Well, that’ll be tough in Bragg Creek, Rainey. It’s a small town. Everybody’s in bed with everybody else, so to speak.”

Rainey laughed. After Toronto, small-town life was definitely going to take some getting used to.

On the way to her car, she informed him of the meeting tomorrow morning with Hollis Harriman, and warned him not to be late. If there was one thing she couldn’t tolerate, it was tardiness. He accepted the warning with a lazy shrug. She sensed he had something else on his mind.

Sure enough, as she searched for her keys, he ventured, “So, I guess we can rule out that massage too, huh?” He chuckled.

“It was never going to happen, Beck.”

“Okay, then, how about a simple handshake to seal our partnership?”

“Of course.” Rainey grasped the keys in her left hand and stuck her right hand out. Beck ignored it. Instead, he gently cupped the back of her head with one hand, leaned down and lightly touched his soft lips to hers.

“Beck Mahoney!” she cried when he pulled away, grinning like a frat boy who had just got to first base. “Didn’t you hear a word I said in there?”

“Hey, lady, that’s how we shake hands in Bragg Creek. You should see what happens when we hug!”

On the drive home, all Rainey could think about was how right she had been about him. He was delicious.

“TWO HUNDRED thousand dollars!” Rainey and Beck shrieked in unison.

Eyes flaring, Rainey motioned for Beck to close the door leading to the lobby, and he quickly complied. The reservations clerks working just outside the Haven’s administrative office didn’t need to hear this; they were jumpy enough. The place was abuzz with gossip about the new owners, and the air was thick with tension.

“Ah, that’s right,” Hollis Harriman confirmed with a violent twitch of his right eye. “That’s what she borrowed.”

Rainey stared across the meeting table at him, dumb-founded. In his midsixties, Hollis was a tall, perilously thin man with a few wisps of gray hair lacquered and stretched across a shiny skull. He had a funny little heart-shaped mouth and blue eyes so light they looked like the surface of a swimming pool. In addition to the twitch, he had a tremor in his left hand and whenever he stood his right knee buckled.

For the better part of two hours he had painstakingly gone over the Haven’s books with them. Now they were poring over a list of things Lilly had cheekily labeled Extraordinary Expenses. Hah! They were extraordinary, all right. Hot air balloon rides. Helicopter tours over the mountains. The trips Beck had mentioned last night.

A mind-boggling item at the bottom of the first page caught Rainey’s eye. “An aromatherapist?” she cried. “On retainer?” No sooner had that bowled her over than she spotted another doozy. “Please,” she said to Beck, “tell me she didn’t hire a psychic to conduct a seance.”

“‘Fraid I can’t do that,” he replied. “I think they were trying to call up the spirit of her dead father.”

Rainey groaned. “I can’t believe she wrote these things off as business expenses!”

“Oh, she definitely had a talent for numbers,” Hollis declared with a twitch and a tremor. He chuckled nervously. To Rainey he seemed perpetually anxious, as if disaster were lurking around every corner. Of course, it might just be these darned books.

She looked at Beck. Ever since that silly kiss, she had found it unnerving to make full eye contact with him. Whenever their eyes did meet, he did something goofy—like wink at her, or raise his eyebrows several times very quickly. Oh, what a mistake that darned kiss was!

Still, she was grateful for him this morning. How on earth would she deal with all this stuff by herself?

Reading her thoughts, Beck stepped in and asked for the bottom line. Hollis explained that while the inn wasn’t exactly bankrupt, it was barely breaking even. Occupancy was down to fifty percent, even in peak season, and the loan payments were eating up what little profits could be made. Not only that, major repairs needed to be carried out. He handed Beck a list of critical items. To Rainey he said, “Frankly, the staff are starting to be concerned about their jobs. They hear things.”

“No one’s going to lose their job,” she declared with fierce determination. “But where on earth will we get the money to do the repairs? We can’t borrow any more, and there’s no cash on reserve.” She bit her lower lip and began to pace back and forth.

A grin slowly spread across Beck’s face, and a frustrated Rainey wondered if he’d lost his mind. There was nothing funny about any of this. First of all, he had been fifteen minutes late for the meeting—fifteen minutes. Secondly, he had so far showed precious little interest in their situation. He was going to have to buck up, start taking things just a little more seriously.

“I know where we can get it,” he murmured like a boy who knew where secret treasure was buried. He smiled politely at Hollis. “Would you kindly excuse us for just a moment?”

After Hollis shuffled out of the room, knee buckling slightly, a still-grinning Beck turned to Rainey. “I have an idea, but you won’t like it.”

“Try me.”

“Okay, but you have to promise me that you’ll stay calm.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Beck. What is it?”

He leaned forward and whispered, “I think we should get married.”

4

“I’D RATHER HAVE a third eye in the middle of my forehead!” Rainey stormed into her apartment, Beck nipping at her heels.

“Oh, now that’s great!” he exclaimed as the door bounced off the wall and crashed into him. “You know, you’re not a very nice person, Rainey Miller. You’ve got a nasty streak!”

“Nasty streak?” Seething, she tromped ahead of him into the tiny kitchen with its scarred pine table and rustic appliances. “Give me a break! I don’t even know if I can work with you, and now you want to marry me? Forget it, buster!”

“Oh, now, wait just one minute there. My name’s not buster—though I’m starting to think it should be. And, hey, what would be so bad about being married to me? I’ll have you know that lots of women would kill for the chance. Hundreds. Thousands even!”

“I think you just answered your own question.”

“Oh, baloney! I like women. So sue me.”

Bristling, Rainey rummaged in the cupboards for the kettle. Tea. That was what she needed. A nice cup of tea. She had been in Bragg Creek all of twenty-four hours. So far, she had been cheated out of half her inheritance and been saddled with a crumbling, nearly bankrupt inn. She had lost her living quarters and acquired a flaky flirt of a business partner she didn’t want. And now she was being asked to marry the flake? Good grief—what was next?

“Just hear me out.” Beck plopped down at the table. “See, I have this trust fund. My grandfather left it to me when I was three. He set it up to be paid out in two installments. I got the first installment when I turned twenty-one, but I can’t touch the rest until I turn thirty-five or get married, whichever comes first.” He lowered his voice. “Rainey, there’s enough money in that fund to turn this place into a palace.”

“I don’t want to marry a—a playboy! I don’t want to marry anybody, at least not right now.” Darn it, where was the kettle? Surely Lilly and her “cronies” drank tea.

Beck threw his hands in the air. “Oh, c’mon, Rainey. Why do you think I’m such a hit with the ladies? I’ll tell you why. There isn’t one woman in this town, for that matter in this region—what the hell, make it the entire province—who doesn’t know about that trust fund.”

Arghhh! Despite her determination to blow off steam for as long as humanly possible, Rainey felt her resolve weakening. She fought the little smile that tugged at the corner of her lips, but in the end it won. Over her shoulder, she joked, “Are you saying they’re not after you just for your good looks and dazzling personality?”

He nodded vigorously. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

She turned and confronted him. “But you flirt with all those women!” Good grief, she sounded like a jealous wife.

He shrugged. “It’s a pastime, nothing more. And you’re not listening to me. I’m not suggesting that we get married married—you know, with bridesmaids and babies and a minivan and all that junk….”

“Those things aren’t junk!”

His expression softened. “You’re right. They aren’t junk. I’d like babies myself, someday.”

Surprised by the warmth and sincerity of his tone, Rainey searched his eyes to determine if he was being serious or just goofing off, as usual. She saw nothing to suggest he wasn’t being completely honest.

“You would?” She couldn’t imagine Beck with a house full of kids. She couldn’t even imagine him married to just one woman. And yet…somehow she could.

“Yeah, I would,” he replied softly. Seeing the skepticism in her eyes, he heaved a sigh and insisted, “I really would, Rainey.”

Oh, no. It was happening again. She felt herself involuntarily melting, succumbing to his charm—for exactly as long as it took for him to flash her one of his “gotcha!” grins. Before she had time to react, he winked garishly. “If you don’t believe me, try me.”

So much for warm sentiment. “Not in this lifetime, buster. I’d rather have a giant wart on the end of my nose!”

His smirk rapidly vanishing, Beck opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. For a moment, they just glared at one another. Then, despite the tension in the air, or maybe because of it, they both cracked up. Between howls, Beck cried, “Gee, Rainey, I don’t know if I could look at a big wart every day!” Rainey laughed until tears sprang to her eyes.

“Look,” he continued when their laughter finally petered out, “all I’m saying is, it would be the ideal solution to our problem.”

Still searching in the cluttered cupboards, Rainey shook her head. “There has to be another way, Beck. It’s—it’s too crazy. It’s too extreme.”

“Okay. What’s your solution?”

Well, okay, he had her there. Based on that list of urgent repairs, it was going to take a lot of money to fix up the inn. Rainey couldn’t ask her retired parents for that much cash, and all she had was her meager savings and the proceeds from the sale of her condo in Toronto—hardly enough money to buy a new furnace.

“We’ll borrow against your cottage,” she suggested with cheeky aplomb. Darn it, maybe there was no kettle. Who had a Ouija board but no kettle?

Beck threw back his head and howled. “Not a chance, lady! I bought that cottage with the first installment of my trust. It’s all I have in the world, and I’m not risking it.”

The kettle—a battered tin thing with a whistling spout—finally materialized. Rainey took it to the sink. Lost in thought, she absentmindedly filled it to overflowing, then poured the excess water down the drain and set it down on a burner.

“The thing is,” Beck argued while she searched for tea bags, “we’ve got big trouble here. If we don’t bring this place up to snuff, we’ll go bankrupt.”

“Hah! You mean I’ll go bankrupt. You’ll be no worse off than before, Beck. And besides, if we use your money, you’ll have more invested than I do. It will be your inn.”

When he didn’t respond immediately, Rainey looked sharply at him. His expression had gone soft and dreamy again. Another zinger was coming. True to form, he murmured, “You know, I really like it when you say my name.”

“Enough already!”

“Okay, okay!”

“You’re not listening to me, Beck.”

“You can pay me back out of your share of the profits.”

Arghhh! He had an answer for everything. He must have stayed up all night, working out the details.

“What’s more,” he continued as she finally found the tea bags and dropped them into Lilly’s old ceramic tea pot, “after we convert this apartment into a wedding chapel, where are you going to live?”

“I’ll get an apartment.”

“There are no apartments in Bragg Creek, Rainey. You’d have to move to Calgary and commute. Have you seen the traffic on the Trans-Canada?”

She sat down across from him, folded her arms and adopted a stubborn pout. “Then I’ll live in one of the suites here.” She was clutching at straws now, and she knew it.

“Uh-huh, and how long do you think it will take for you to get sick of that? About a week, that’s how long.”

The wall phone rang, startling them both. Grateful for the distraction, Rainey jumped up and grabbed it. “Hello!” she belted into the receiver.

“Rainey?” an all-too-familiar voice tentatively asked. It was Trevor. Wonderful. Just what she needed.

“Trevor,” she snapped. “I don’t have time for you right now.” Or tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that.

“Rainey, I just want to talk to you for a few minutes—” he pleaded. “After you ran out like that—”

“I didn’t run out, Trevor. I moved west. There’s a difference. I have to go now.”

“We need to talk, Rainey. Clear the air…”

Sighing impatiently, she glanced over her shoulder at Beck. He was watching her with wide eyes and thinly veiled curiosity. To Trevor, she roared, “There’s two thousand miles of air between us, and it’s all very clear to me! Goodbye!” She slammed the receiver down and sat down again, hard enough to bruise her tailbone.

A moment later, Beck asked, very casually, “Ah, who’s Trevor?”

“Nobody. Just an old boyfriend.” Oooh! How dare Trevor call her after what he had done! The nerve.

Beck’s eyebrows shot up. “Your old boyfriends call you long-distance?” From his tone and body language, it was clear to Rainey that he was trying not to seem too interested, but failing miserably. An alarm bell sounded in her head. Her past was none of his business. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He nodded and waited. When it finally became clear that she really wasn’t going to say more, he cleared his throat. “Okay, then, back to us. Let’s look at our options.” He raised his right index finger in the air. “Option Number One. We do nothing. We continue running the Haven as is, until we go under.”

“That’s not an option. That’s a disaster!” The kettle whistled. Rainey jumped up, moved it to a cold burner, and sat down again, forgetting to make the tea.

“Okay, then. Option Number Two. We sell the inn, split the profits, if there are any, and go our separate ways.”

She gasped. “No way! I’ve worked my whole life for this opportunity.”

Beck nodded. “Right. And for me this is a terrific business deal. So what does that leave us with?”

Rainey chewed on her lower lip and stared into space. Oh, darn. What did it leave them with? Nothing, that’s what. Good grief, what a mess! How could she marry a total stranger she had vowed just yesterday to avoid at any cost? It was utterly insane. Every instinct she had told her to grab her still unpacked bags and get out of there as quickly as possible. Forget she’d ever heard of the Honeymoon Haven and Bragg Creek and Beck Mahoney. But where would she go? Back to “Tronna” and Trevor?

After a long silence, she sighed wearily and muttered, “Okay, tell me what you have in mind.”

Excited, Beck leaned forward and gave her his thoughts. They would have Nate Frome draw up a prenuptial agreement. They would marry quietly and stay married only as long as necessary—six months, a year at the most. Then they would start to make noise about trouble in the marriage…

“Well, at least that part will be true!”

He ignored her sarcasm and continued. They would live in his cottage….

“In separate bedrooms, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed a little too quickly.

Rainey eyed him suspiciously. She smelled a rat.

In the meantime, Beck concluded, they would renovate the Haven from top to bottom, step up their marketing efforts and reel in the profits. Simple.

Energized by the sheer absurdity of the situation, Rainey rose and began to pace back and forth in the confined space. She felt like a wild animal caught in a trap. Something told her it just wasn’t going to be that simple. There would be all kinds of problems. Rules would have to be established. Scores of issues would have to be resolved. She struggled to mentally list them and consider each one separately.

Okay, for one thing…Whirling around like a prosecutor about to pounce on a hostile witness, she demanded, “What if you meet somebody three months from now, who you really would like to marry? What then?”

“I don’t think that will happen.” Beck’s eyes slid over her from head to toe and back again. Rainey involuntarily blushed. Darn it all, why did he have to do that? Why did he have to stir up so many mixed feelings in her? Like, dislike, amusement, exasperation, rage, sympathy, lust.

Startled, she realized for the first time that she was, maybe, just maybe, a little attracted to the guy. Oh, what a dreadful thought! She pushed it away and tried to concentrate on the situation at hand.

“Besides,” he added with a wry smile, “there’s nobody in this town I can trust with my heart, Rainey. With you, at least I would know that you only married me for my money.”

Her jaw dropped. “Beck Mahoney, that is the craziest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He shrugged. “It’s a crazy situation.”

Sighing, Rainey glanced out the window at the Haven’s half-full parking lot. It was a hazy day and the majestic blue spruce trees surrounding the lot had taken on a bluish-green hue. Something on the far side of the lot caught her eye. What the…? It was a man and a woman, scrambling into the back seat of a car. They looked suspiciously like Freda Norman and Hollis Harriman, but from this distance it was hard to tell. Why on earth would those two be jumping into a parked car together?

A sense of defeat suddenly overwhelmed her and her shoulders slumped. All my life I’ve worked for this, she thought sadly. To run this inn, to live in this beautiful place, to be happy. Aren’t I entitled to a little happiness?

Oh, well, maybe the Rainey-gets-a-new-life program would just have to wait another year. Beck was right. They had no options.

She fixed a stern eye on him. “Okay, I’m not agreeing to anything just yet, but if we do get married—and I’m only saying if—everyone will have to be told that it’s strictly a business arrangement.”

Beck bared his dazzling white teeth in a grimace. “Ah, well, there might be a little problem with that.”

Yup. She was right. Problems already. “Really? Why?”

“Well, it’s my grandmother, see. She’d be horrified if she thought the marriage wasn’t real. From her standpoint it would violate the spirit of the trust. I think my grandfather meant for me to be happily married.”

Good grief. Rainey dropped her chin and looked at him the way she might look at a teenager who’d just tried teenage logic on her. “Call me crazy, Beck, but wouldn’t you be violating the spirit of the trust anyway? I mean, we’re not exactly smitten here, you know.”

The question caught him off guard and he hesitated. Alarm surged through Rainey like an electric jolt. Oh, no.

Surely he wasn’t attracted to her in a serious way. How could he be? They had just met yesterday.

A playful smile played across his luscious lips. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.”

“What are you really saying? That we have to pretend to be smitten, for your grandmother’s sake?”

“Yup, for hers and everybody else’s. This is a small town, Rainey. People talk.”

“That’s ludicrous. How are we supposed to keep that up?”

He helped himself to another full-length appraisal of her. “I don’t know about you, but I won’t have any trouble playing my part.” He glanced at her breasts. Licked his lips. Grinned like a monkey.

“Look, Beck,” she warned him with narrowed eyes, “you mustn’t get any ideas about me. I’m here to run an inn, nothing more. Understand?”

“Perfectly,” he agreed with all the sincerity of a snake oil salesman.

Ooh, he was maddening! How on earth was a woman supposed to know when this guy was being real?

“Besides,” Rainey added, regretting it almost immediately, “I’m…I’ve just been through…I’m a little vulnerable right now. You have to respect that.” Darn, now why did she go and say that? It was way more than he needed to know.

Beck’s eyes widened, but he had the sense not to press for an explanation. “Okay, I will,” he agreed solemnly.

What a bunch of bunk. The man was as phony as a three-dollar bill, and Rainey didn’t trust him as far as she could spit. Oops, what had become of the tea? She went to the stove and turned the burner on again. Beck rose and came up close behind her. Before she could turn around, he placed his hands flat on the countertop on either side of her and closed her in.

“What would be so bad about being married to me?” he murmured into her hair. “You might actually like it.”

His taut body was just inches away from hers, and Rainey felt the heat coming off it. He smelled like sandalwood again. What was it? Soap? Aftershave lotion? Intermingled with his own natural scent, it was heady stuff. A lonely woman could easily fall prey to Beck, she realized. It would be sooo easy.

But it wasn’t going to happen to her. No way. Loneliness had caused her to make one stupid choice. She couldn’t let it happen again. Especially here, where she had no escape route. What would she do—move to Vancouver? Sheesh, at this rate, she could end up in Japan.

Lips pursed, she peeled his right hand smartly off the counter and turned around. Bad move. He just replaced it and closed her in again, face-to-face this time. Before she could react, he leaned down and brought those tantalizing lips very close to hers.

Flustered and trembling, Rainey assumed he was going to kiss her again. He didn’t. Instead, he merely brushed his cheek against hers. His whiskers were bristly, his skin warm. His breath was hot on her face. In sheer defiance of her will to resist him, a wave of desire washed over Rainey and her lips parted in anticipation.

“It could be so good, Rainey,” he whispered as she fought a powerful urge to put her arms around him. He was so close, so gorgeous, so sexy. One little kiss. What was the harm, really? After all, they’d kissed once before and the world hadn’t ended.

Just as her fingertips made contact with his muscular sides, he abruptly pulled back. “Take a few days to think it over. Then get back to me.”

A slow burn crept up Rainey’s face and she flinched. How dare he treat her that way? Oh, what a fool she was! To think that…

Then, without so much as a backward glance, he strutted out of the apartment, whistling—so sure of himself that she wanted to scream.

Seconds later the kettle whistled, too. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she snapped.

5

FOR THE NEXT three days, Rainey briskly went about the business of becoming general manager of the Honeymoon Haven.

On the morning of the first day she introduced herself to every member of the staff, in each case offering reassurances that despite whatever they had heard, all was well at the Haven. To her surprise, most of them were more interested to know how she felt about working with Beck than about the security of their jobs. Smiling tightly, she insisted she was thrilled, simply thrilled, to have Beck Mahoney as a partner. There was a lot of whispering behind her back, a little snickering and some blatant laughter.

“Humph! So it’s going to be the two of you now, is it?” Mrs. Norman shouted at her. The women were close enough to touch, and Rainey almost fell backward. Before she could regain her footing and muster a reply, the head housekeeper said “Humph!” again and marched away.

Hollis was more succinct. “So, it’s you and B-b-beck,” he commented, adding a stutter to his already impressive collection of quirks.

Passing her in the corridor at noon, Beck leaned down and whispered, “Have you thought it over?”

“No!” Rainey snapped. She was still hurt and humiliated and, darn it, she was staying that way as long as possible!

After the lunch crowd cleared out, she had the plants removed from the dining room and spent a breathless afternoon helping the kitchen staff to rearrange the heavy tables. Then she called each of the inn’s suppliers and formally introduced herself.

Before heading home, a sweaty, fatigued Beck poked his head into her office. All day he had been struggling alongside Hollis to temporarily repair one of the inn’s two ancient furnaces. The weather had turned cool, and the guests had been forced to don sweaters. Moaning and grumbling, they repeatedly conveyed their displeasure to Rainey.

“Have you thought it over yet?” he asked yet again.

“No, I haven’t. Get lost!”

“Certainly.” He bowed deeply as he backed out of the doorway. Oooh, he was such a pain! She wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of a laugh.

On day two she cleared the clutter from Lilly’s office and went through dozens of bulging files, sorting the wheat from the chaff. There were documents dating back ten years or more, some on crumbling, yellowed paper. One file held the sticky remnants of a half-eaten butter tart.

In the bottom drawer of the file cabinet, at the very back, she found a folder labeled “Rainey.” What the devil? Brows furrowed, she opened it and pulled out a single sheet of mauve, floral stationery—a letter addressed to her from Lilly.

My dearest darling niece,

I expect that by now you have recovered from the shock of my recent decision and are getting on with things. I apologize for leaving the inn in such a poor state. I confess that lately I have left the running of the place mostly to Freda and Hollis. I am confident they will be a big help to you and Beck as you work to make the Haven everything it can be. He is a fine young man, and was very sweet to me. Best wishes for a long and happy partnership.

Sincerely,

Aunt Lilly

P.S. Don’t forget about my party.

Stunned by its brevity and businesslike tone, Rainey sat back on her haunches on the worn carpet and read the letter again. That was it? No explanation of why Lilly had reneged on her promise? Just a reminder about the party? Well, at least Rainey understood now why Mrs. Norman wasn’t exactly thrilled with the new arrangement. She was used to being in charge.

Lilly was right about one thing. Whatever it took, she and Beck were going to drag the Haven kicking and screaming into the new millennium. With sound management and a little spit and polish, the inn was going to be a model of gracious hospitality and corporate efficiency. Rainey suddenly envisioned herself on the cover of one of those glossy hotel trade magazines, smiling under the banner: Honeymoon Haven Voted World’s Best Hotel. It was going to happen. Yes, sir!

From time to time, Beck came by to check up on her. Each time he asked if she’d thought it over, and each time she said no. Good grief. Why was he in such a hurry? After all, it wasn’t going to be a real marriage. Uh, that was, if it happened at all.

Marriage. Hmm. Her brain was still cycling crazily through the list of potential problems. For one thing, wouldn’t marrying Beck mean spending altogether too much time with him? Living with him, working with him. Even the best of real marriages would buckle under that kind of strain.

At the end of day three, weary from placating chilly guests and a little cold herself, Rainey poured a hot bath in Lilly’s claw-footed tub and sank into it with a sigh of relief. For the first time since his call, Trevor popped into her head.

Why had he called? Surely he didn’t have any illusions about getting back together? How could they, anyway? He was an urban yuppie who detested small-town life. One week in Bragg Creek and he’d be whining, “What? No avante garde theater?” And Rainey was never going back to big-city life.

Never. As she luxuriated in the hot, soapy water, the sheer finality of that word hit her like a slap in the face. She was here and she was staying. Forever. Whatever it took to keep her in this beautiful place, she would do it.

Ah, even if it meant marrying the town hustler? Yes, she realized, even if it meant that.

Sighing, she looked around the bathroom, at the chipped paint on the wood wainscoting and the cracked, rippling mirror above the pedestal sink. Lilly’s personal items were still in the medicine cabinet. Thank heavens Rainey didn’t have to redecorate. There was, of course, still the matter of where she was going to live.

Hmm. A light flashed on in her head and she abruptly sat up, splashing water over the side of the tub. What would Trevor think if she married Beck? Hah! Wouldn’t it just serve him right? Wouldn’t it just frost him? She could just see the look on his bland face. Total shock. Oh, how she would love to see it! Of course, if she did marry Beck, she would have to settle for Trevor’s reaction over the telephone. But even that would be worth it.

Oh, yes, she realized with maniacal glee, it would be well worth it.

Laughing like a lunatic, suspecting that she had lost her marbles but somehow no longer caring, and knowing full well that it was going to be a disaster, she scrambled out of the tub and called Beck at home. When he answered, sounding tired, she exclaimed, “Okay, buster, I’ve thought it over. Let’s do it!”

“YES, LADIES and gentlemen,” Beck intoned in his best impersonation of an infomercial pitch man, “it’s the first, the only, free-trial offer of its kind. Try a wife! Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back. If you’re not happy with the product, just return it after six months—a year at the most—and get a full refund.”

Chuckling aloud, he dipped Lilly’s ancient hand razor in the sink and took another careful swipe at his five o’clock shadow. He wanted to look his best tonight. He was about to make the biggest, and definitely the strangest, announcement of his life: I’m getting married, Grandma, to a woman I met five days ago. She doesn’t love me, Grandma. Hell, she doesn’t even like me much, but who cares? She’s a babe!

His eyes, glassy and a little crazed looking, stared back at him from the mirror above Rainey’s bathroom sink. “You’ve gone mad,” he said to them.

“Beck, what on earth are you doing in there?” Rainey asked from outside the door. She sounded tense, rattled.

“Nothing,” he answered in the high-pitched voice of a kid just about to shave his head and put a ring in his nose.

Moments later he heard an anxious sigh followed by the click-click of her heels retreating down the hall. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

Wasn’t it just the deal of a lifetime? A suiteheart of a deal, he thought, choking back a laugh. How many guys could just try a wife on for size? Marry with the option, right up front, to just walk away if things didn’t work out? None, that’s how many. Nate Frome would be green with envy. He already had two messy divorces behind him.

Ah, wait a minute. He couldn’t tell Nate the truth—not right away. If their little scheme was to work, everybody had to believe that he and Rainey were crazy in love. No exceptions. Dammit, he would love, just love, to see the look on old Nate’s mug.

Distracted, he nicked himself. Terrific. Now he was going to be stuck with a nerdy square of tissue on his chin.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a real marriage—not in the biblical sense, anyway. Rainey had made that pretty clear the other day. Separate bedrooms. Yeah, well, he’d just have to see about that.

And that stuff about being vulnerable. What was that about? Obviously, Trevor, whoever he was, had broken her heart. Beck wanted to kill the guy. Mostly for hurting Rainey, but also partly for giving Beck one more damned hurdle to jump. Loving Rainey was starting to feel like a four-hundred-yard relay.

He dabbed at the cut with a tissue. Hey, wait a minute. Loving Rainey. Now where had that thought come from? Stay cool, he silently warned his reflection. Stay cool, old boy.

He heard her banging around in the living room. Nervous and jumpy, she had changed her clothes about nine times in the past hour. Beck could just imagine what she was wearing now. One of those prim, high-necked blouses she seemed to have an endless supply of. A straight, knee-length skirt. Probably panty hose, too. You’d think she was still working at the Royal York Hotel, or something. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that no woman in Bragg Creek wore panty hose if she could possibly avoid it.

Cool. Yeah, well, that was going to be tough. ’Cause no matter what kind of getup she wore, Rainey Miller was just about the most delicious piece of womanhood he had ever seen. Those eyes. Those curves. Those legs.

After that stupid move he’d made in her kitchen the other day, Beck had gone home and cursed himself three ways to Sunday. She had just issued a plea for mercy, and what had he done? Drooled all over her, that’s what. Like it or not, he would just have to summon a little restraint. Keep his greedy mitts off her—except, of course, when it served their crazy purpose.

Yes, sir. The bedroom thing, the wardrobe thing, the anal-retention thing—all would be addressed in good time.

His thoughts drifted to Francine. Should he tell Rainey about her? Last spring they had gone out exactly three times—twice to dinner and once to a movie. Six whole months had passed and she was still bitter about their “breakup.” What Beck didn’t understand was, how could they have broken up when they never got together in the first place? They had nothing in common and couldn’t dredge up enough conversation to get through a meal. Why, they hadn’t even…

Anyway, maybe he should just leave it alone for now. Francine was smart and sensible. She’d come around eventually.

Another thing he wasn’t about to tell Rainey: that despite his reputation he hadn’t gotten down to business with any woman for nearly two years. He was hungry for a woman’s touch, her taste, her scent. But not just any woman…

Lord knew it wasn’t for lack of opportunity. It was just that…hell, there just wasn’t anybody he wanted to be with. Meaningless, short-term stuff. Man, he was tired of that routine. The mindless chitchat over dinner. The slow buildup to the big question: So, when do you get your inheritance, Beck? And by the way, exactly how much money is it? Not that I’m interested, or anything.

And then, worst of all, the hurried, halfhearted sex that left him wanting more. What more he wasn’t exactly sure—but there had to be something more.

The last of his whiskers shed, Beck washed his still-bloody face, rinsed the razor and put it away. Whistling, he raked a comb through his hair and donned a pair of clean khakis and a turtleneck sweater. Satisfied that he was at least passably presentable, even with the goofy tissue paper, he stepped into the hall.

And came face-to-face with an angel.

Grimacing and wringing her hands, Rainey stood before him in a long green linen dress. Sleeveless and collarless, it fell in a straight line from her slender shoulders to the tops of her thin-strapped black sandals. From there it was slit up both sides to her bare knees. A black enamel pin and a slender black bracelet completed the ensemble.

“Wow!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, Beck.” Her expression was tortured. “Do you think it’s okay? I mean, it’s really a summer dress…”

“I think it’s more than okay,” he confirmed with an appreciative nod. “I think it’s spectacular.”

“Oh, Beck.” She managed a small smile. Her hair shone and her lips glistened with a pale-pink glossiness. Despite her anxiety, she had a girlish glow on. It was just about the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Before he could stop them, his eyes took a good long look at the swelling of those more-than-generous breasts beneath the pale green sheath, and the graceful curves leading down to those luscious hips. He had no trouble picturing her without the dress. No trouble at all.

Restraint, he silently reminded himself. Restraint, Beck.

“You look wonderful, too,” she said sweetly.

Beck eyed her suspiciously. In the past three days she had swung all the way from snarling at him to almost treating him like a human being. What was going on?

The doorbell sounded and he winked at her. “It’s show time!” Rainey took a sharp breath and expelled it slowly.

“Beck, darling,” his tiny, feisty grandmother chirped as he let her into the apartment, “you’re as handsome as ever!” As usual, she was overdressed and over-coifed, her mauve suit, pink shoes and blue-tinted hair a medley of clashing pastels.

“Thanks, Grandma,” he said as she brushed past him and made a beeline straight for Rainey. Smiling as sweetly as only a crafty old lady can smile, she held out her jeweled hands and clasped the sides of Rainey’s bare arms. “Why, aren’t you just the prettiest thing!”

Rainey beamed—and relaxed. “Thank you.”

“I’m delighted to meet you at last. Your aunt Lilly always said such nice things about you. I can see now that she wasn’t exaggerating.” With that, her watery eyes clouded over with sadness. “Oh, I miss her so much,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A stroke. And she was only eighty-four. It’s tragic.”

Beck rolled his eyes. He loved his grandmother, but her penchant for melodrama bordered on being insufferable.

Rainey, immediately smitten, murmured, “I miss her, too, Mrs. Mahoney.”

Old Flo pursed her lips. “Oh, please. Call me Flo. We don’t need formalities here.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that!” Rainey cried. “It wouldn’t be right.”

Flo’s frown quickly gave way to a sugary smile. “Well now, isn’t that just the mark of a well-raised young lady. I’ll tell you what. Call me Grandma then.” She flashed Beck a disgusted look. “These Mahoney boys, they just don’t seem to be able to produce girls. It will be a pleasure to have you as my granddaughter.”

Beck nearly gagged. “Tea, ladies?”

“Only if there’s a little gin to go with it,” his grandmother replied as she and Rainey moved into the living room.

Beck sauntered into the kitchen and looked around for the kettle. Dammit, where had Rainey put the stupid thing? If they couldn’t manage a pot of tea, how were they going to manage a marriage and a renovation?

After a tedious search, he finally found it, along with the tea bags. Standing at the sink, he overheard the women chatting amiably about the weather, and Rainey’s dress—so flattering!—and her new responsibilities. And, of course, the Women of the Wapiti. Rainey simply would have to join the club as soon as possible. They needed some young blood.

Leaning against the counter, Beck took a deep breath. Good Lord, how were they going to broach the subject of the marriage? And how about that five-day engagement, huh? Hell, in Flo’s day, two years were considered scandalous. No doubt about it, the old girl was going to be appalled. Not to mention highly suspicious. After all, she was the trustee. She controlled the cash—and Beck along with it.

As the kettle began to whistle, his conscience finally kicked in. Man alive, how could he lie to his own grandmother? What kind of cad did that? Of course, he rationalized, he wasn’t really lying. Not totally, anyway. He was attracted to Rainey and he did, for whatever warped reason, want to marry her.

Summoning all the courage he could muster, he went into the living room, sat down across from the women, and cleared his throat. They stopped chattering and stared expectantly at him.

“Ah, Grandma,” he began, his throat suddenly dry, his palms sweating, “Rainey and I have something to tell you. We’ve, ah, we’ve…” Desperate, he glanced at Rainey for help, but she looked away and nervously licked her lips. “We’ve—we’re—we’ve decided to marry!” He braced himself for the explosion.

It didn’t come.

Instead, before his very eyes, Florence Mahoney’s funny little face lit up like a neon sign and she gasped—with sheer delight. “Oh, my, now isn’t that just the best news I have ever heard! Let me be the first to congratulate both of you.”

“Wh-whaaat…?” Beck stammered.

“Thank you.” Rainey’s green eyes widened in disbelief. From behind Flo’s back she locked eyes with Beck, shook her head slightly and silently mouthed words he couldn’t decipher. He had warned her to expect the worst. Now she was just as baffled as he was.

“Um, as you know,” Beck blundered on, “we met just a few days ago….”

“Oh, don’t bother to explain,” Flo urged with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It must have been love at first sight. How wonderfully, delightfully romantic!”

Okay, Beck was thunderstruck now. How many times had she warned him that there was no such thing as love at first sight? About a million times, that’s how many.

Flo made a big show of checking her watch. “Oh, my, would you just look at the time.” In defiance of her advanced years, she sprang to her feet like an athlete and sprinted for the door. “I have to run along now, children. The club is meeting tonight to plan the winter festival.”

“It was lovely to meet you,” Rainey called out to her retreating back.

“It was lovely to meet you, too, dear,” Flo replied.

The moment he closed the door behind her, Beck spun around and whispered harshly, “I don’t get it! Something funny is going on here.”

“I know,” Rainey said. “You’re bleeding.”

6

“WHO HAS THE RINGS?”

The marriage of Rainey Ann Miller, only child of Laura and Jonathan Miller of Toronto, to Beckett Lee Mahoney, youngest child of Martha and Earl Mahoney of Edmonton, took place at 4:00 p.m. on the third Saturday in September, in Rainey’s apartment. The bride wore beige silk. The groom wore gray flannel. There were no flowers and no bridesmaids. There would be no babies, and definitely no minivan.

Charles T. Longhorn, chief commissioner of the town of Bragg Creek, officiated. Freda Norman and Hollis Harriman, also of Bragg Creek, served as witnesses. When Mr. Longhorn asked if anyone present could say why this young couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, Rainey and Beck simultaneously spun around and glared at the witnesses.

Withering under their collective heat, Mrs. Norman and her twitching sidekick struggled to maintain straight faces. Hollis quickly lost the battle and collapsed into a fit of giggles. Scowling, Mrs. Norman jabbed him in the ribs. “Get a grip there, Holly!” As he doubled over in pain, a little smile tugged at the corner of her own lips.

“Who has the rings?” Mr. Longhorn asked again. Beck fished in his pocket for the plain gold bands they had hastily purchased that morning at the local jewelry shop. Fumbling slightly, they managed to get them on.

When Mr. Longhorn announced, “You may now kiss the bride,” Rainey turned nervously toward Beck. Make it good, her eyes told him. People are watching. In truth, she didn’t care who was present. If ever she had an excuse to kiss Beck, this was definitely it.

All too happy to oblige, he put his arms around her and drew her close. She followed suit. While the others smiled benevolently, they joined lips, gently at first, then insistently. Beck’s right hand came up to cup the back of her head, and his tongue snaked into her mouth. Rainey moaned softly. Oblivious of their bug-eyed audience, they let the kiss go on for a very long time.

At one point, Beck actually pulled back for air, then, moaning and whispering gibberish, kissed her again, even more deeply than the first time.

Out of patience, the commissioner cleared his throat and solemnly intoned, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

The bride and groom ignored him. They were drowning in the depths of something so strong, so powerful, that when they finally did pull away, it left them both panting and trembling.

“Wow!” Beck exclaimed. “Maybe we should get married again tomorrow!”

In the front of her mind, Rainey thought, Hmm, now that’s a kiss. In the back, she thought: Take that, Trevor! You rat!

After the ceremony, Mr. Longhorn offered best wishes for a long and happy life together, which prompted another round of giggles, then showed himself out. Mrs. Norman and a still-twittering Hollis went back to work. Alone with Beck, Rainey suddenly grew self-conscious.

“Well,” she stammered, avoiding his eyes, “I guess it’s time to clear out of here.” She walked into the bedroom and began to gather her loose things. As she was dropping them into the biggest of her two suitcases, Beck leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms.

“So,” he said, utterly, predictably, true to form, “we’re on our honeymoon.”

Rainey looked up sharply. She had been expecting this little scene—though not quite this soon. “Oh, no, we’re not, Beck Mahoney. This is strictly a business arrangement. You know that.”

“Hmmm.” He went on watching her, his eyes sliding provocatively over every inch of her. Rainey could feel them undressing her, even from across the room. Goose bumps formed on her skin.

“You know, I’m not opposed to mixing business with pleasure,” he said quietly.

Okay, that was enough. “Look Beck, we made a deal. Separate bedrooms. You agreed.”

He snorted. “Well, I don’t know, Rainey. I mean, agreed is a pretty strong word. I went along with it. I’ll give you that.”

“Uh-huh, and you’re going to continue to go along with it.”

“Tell me you’re not attracted to me,” he teased.

With an exasperated sigh, Rainey closed the suitcase, picked it up and walked toward him. “Beck, there isn’t a woman alive who isn’t attracted to you.”

He wagged a finger at her. “That’s not an answer.” He took the suitcase from her and set it down behind him, barricading both of them into the room.

Hands on hips, she stared him down. “Okay, then, I’m not attracted to you.”

“Liar.” He grinned.

“I am not lying!” Actually, as much as Rainey resisted the idea, she was attracted to him. Hopelessly. But so were nine-tenths of the women around here. And, attraction could be a deadly thing. Nobody knew that better than she did.

He nodded toward the living room. “We generated a little heat in there, Rainey. You felt it, too. I know you did.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Was there no limit to his arrogance? Maybe they shouldn’t have just plunged into this thing. Maybe, in addition to the prenuptial agreement Nate Frome had drafted, they should have drawn up another contract. One that spelled out the guidelines. Defined the parameters. Laid down the rules. Of course, how could they? As far as Nate and everyone else was concerned, there were no rules.

More importantly, hadn’t she asked Beck to play easy with her heart?

Fighting tears, she said, “I’m lonely, Beck. I’m in a new town and I don’t have any friends here. I’ve got a new job, and I don’t even know if I can do it. And I got married today, to a man I hardly know.”

“Hey,” he said softly, his arms reaching out for her. Anguish clouded his handsome features. “I’m sorry, Rainey. I didn’t mean to rush you like that.”

Functioning on autopilot, Rainey walked into his arms and sighed as they enveloped her. She put her arms loosely around him and he stroked her hair. “It’s okay, Rainey,” he murmured. “I’ll be your friend. And I know you can do the job. I have complete confidence in you.”

She relaxed against him. There was nothing carnal about his embrace. On the contrary, it was friendly and soothing.

For about two seconds.

Before either of them knew what was happening, the heat they had generated earlier regenerated itself with even greater intensity. Slowly and sensuously, Beck began to stroke Rainey’s silk-clad back, his fingertips skimming downward from the tops of her shoulder blades to her waist and back again. Rainey felt a stirring in her loins, and before she could stop them her hands had begun to caress his back.

“Rainey,” he whispered hoarsely against her hair.

Mesmerized, she tilted her head upward to receive his kiss. When their lips were just whispers apart, Beck ran the tip of his tongue across the full width of her upper lip, then her lower. From there, he trailed across her cheek. When he landed, soft and wet and warm, on her earlobe, Rainey’s breath caught sharply in her throat.

Not even the shrill ringing of the telephone got through to them—until the answering machine clicked on and Rainey heard Dana’s chirpy voice. A blast from the past, it brought her smartly back to reality.

“Dana!” she yelped, abruptly pulling free from Beck. Sidestepping the suitcase, she ran into the kitchen, Beck close on her heels. Her shaky hand paused near the telephone. She looked at Beck. “Oh, no! What I am going to tell her?”

Beck was flushed and disheveled, still in a trance. “Who’s Dana?”

“My best friend!”

Caught up in her panic, he cried, “I don’t know! Tell her the truth!”

While they eyed one another with frenzied uncertainty, the message played on. “Rainey? Are you there? If you’re there, pick up, sweetie. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you. I was away at a conference and—”

“But what is the truth?” Rainey pleaded.

“Tell her you got married this afternoon.”

“I can’t do that! She’ll think I’ve gone mad!”

Calmer suddenly, Beck folded his arms and declared, “Well now, that is pretty close to the truth, isn’t it?”

Her hand still hovering above the receiver, Rainey made a sour face at him. Arghhh! Obviously she should have thought this through a little better. Trevor she definitely planned to tell about the marriage. But what about the others? In her rush to make her ex jealous, she hadn’t paused to consider that, sooner or later, everyone would have to be told about the ludicrous pact she and Beck had struck. Her mom, her dad, her best friend. Everyone!

Oh, dear. It would have to be later. She just couldn’t deal with it right now.

“Anyway, sweetie, it’s obvious that you’re not there,” Dana said as Rainey stared helplessly at the machine. “Call me when you get the chance. I miss you. Bye now.”

The machine clicked off and Rainey looked at Beck. He was grinning. “When at first we do deceive…”

“You’re not being very helpful!”

“And you’re not being very realistic. Call her back. Tell her the truth.”

“I can’t. Not—not yet, anyway.”

Beck shrugged. “It’s your call, so to speak.” With that, he went into the bedroom and retrieved the suitcases. On his way back, he paused in the kitchen doorway. “I’ll meet you in the car. Call her, Rainey. Call her right now.”

After the apartment door clicked shut, Rainey took several deep breaths to calm herself and dialed her old friend’s number. Dana picked up after the first ring and sang a cheerful hello.

“Dana!” Rainey practically shrieked. Oh, dear, she had to get a grip. This was going to be hard enough.

“Sweetie! How are you? I miss you so much.”

“I’m fine. Terrific, really. I’m—I’m sort of in the middle of something right now, and I can’t talk for long. I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay.” Actually, I just married a perfect stranger. But don’t worry, I’m fine.

“I’m so glad to hear it. I won’t keep you. I just…Rainey, there’s something I…”

“Dana,” Rainey interrupted, “I’m moving. Today. To a house.”

“Really? Why? I thought you had an apartment at the inn.”

“I do. Er, I did. It’s kind of a long story. And, ah, I’m going to have a—a roommate!”

“You’re kidding. Boy roommate or girl roommate?”

“Boy. His name is Beck Mahoney. He works here at the inn. He’s a masseuse.”

“A masseuse. How convenient. Is he cute?”

Despite everything, Rainey laughed. “Oh, yeah. He’s cute, all right.” He’s a hunk, Dana. You have no idea.

“What’s your new number?”

Rainey recited the number. As Dana was jotting it down, she glanced anxiously out the window and spotted Beck putting her suitcases into the trunk of the Fairlane.

“Listen, Dana, I really have to run. He’s waiting for me.”

“Okay, okay. It’s just that…there’s something I really want to talk to you about. In fact, I was thinking about coming out there.”

Coming out here? Oh, no! “Dana, that’s not a good idea. Not right now. I’ve hardly had time to get settled. My new job, this move, honestly, everything is crazy right now.”

There was a brief pause. “Ah, sure. I can come out later, I guess.”

Was it Rainey’s imagination, or did her old friend sound a little anxious? Maybe even frightened. They knew each other through and through. Oh, well, whatever was troubling Dana, it would just have to wait. “Can I call you later, Dana? Honestly, I’m rushed.”

“Okay, I give. Take care, sweetie. And do call me.”

Rainey promised she would.

After hanging up, she took a few moments to gather her wits, then took one last look around the apartment. She would be seeing it again, but not like this. Soon, Lilly’s things would be cleared out and the renovation would begin. This felt like goodbye.

Her whole life was starting to feel like that.

RAINEY GASPED. “Beck Mahoney, you call this a cottage!”

“Well, it was a cottage, originally. I’ve added a little space to it over the years.”

A little space? Rainey couldn’t believe her eyes. All along she had pictured a cozy cabin with two rooms and a thatched roof. Something Goldilocks and the Three Bears might inhabit. This was a house and a half.

Laughing with delight, she scrambled out of the Fairlane and gazed up at it with awe. It was a two-storey mansion of Laurentian design, similar in many ways to the inn. Built of cedar and stone, with tall windows and steeply pitched gables, it easily competed for glory with the tall, ancient spruce trees surrounding it.

The trees swayed gently in the wind, birds chirping from within the depths of their wide, sweeping branches. Casting her eyes downward, Rainey spied a rabbit, half white, half brown, making haste to evade the sudden intruders.

“So what do you think?” Beck asked, his voice full of pride.

“I can’t wait to see it!” Rainey cried with a little more enthusiasm than was appropriate under the circumstances. She glanced nervously at Beck, but he, too, was looking at the house with awe. Rainey understood now why he couldn’t risk losing it. It was everything to him. In a way, it was the love of his life.

On the ride here, he had been strangely quiet. Shy, almost. He seemed stunned. Blown away, Rainey assumed, by the fiery passion that had welled up between them this afternoon. Heaven knew she was surprised.

Could two people with practically nothing in common get caught up in the throes of a physical attraction so powerful it rendered them both deaf, dumb and blind? Sure they found each other attractive. But Beck was the hunk of the century; that was Rainey’s explanation. What was his? He had more women than Carter’s had pills. Surely there was nothing special about her?

Oh, boy. Beck’s women. Now there was a problem she hadn’t even considered.

“Let’s go in,” he suggested, breaking into her thoughts. Inside, the house was even more impressive than outside. The living room soared to the full height of the structure, along with the massive stone fireplace that formed its magnificent centerpiece. Overlooking the living room was a big, open kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a generous work island. Behind it, Rainey found two small bedrooms, a laundry room and a half bathroom. Beck was using one of the bedrooms as a store room, the other as an office.

Looking around, she saw that most of the furniture was old and cheesy. Real guy stuff. A retro, plaid sofa. Mismatched chairs. A wobbly kitchen table that looked like it had been salvaged from a junkyard. The wagon wheel coffee table was just about the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Men. Honestly.

“Your room is upstairs,” Beck said. “Across from mine.”

Rainey braced herself for the inevitable smart remark. Normally, Beck would make the most of announcing something like that—wink at her, or poke her in the ribs, or do that goofy thing he did with his eyebrows. Not this time. His face was blank, his manner strangely remote. He grabbed her bags from their resting place by the front door and carried them up the wide staircase. Rainey followed him, her eyes helplessly glued to his adorable butt.

The two bedrooms on the second level were huge and shared a big bathroom. A very messy bathroom. Terrific, thought Rainey. A bathroom slob. Frankly, the whole house was dusty and messy, though she sensed that Beck had scrambled to tidy up for her benefit.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the bathroom,” he said in the flat, impersonal tone of a boardinghouse landlord renting out a room. “It’s a long hike downstairs in the middle of the night.”

“I don’t mind at all,” she replied. Good grief. The way they were acting, you’d think they really were just roommates. Well, of course, that’s what they were. Oh, dear, surely she wouldn’t have to remind herself of that?

While Rainey unpacked and took in the stunning view beyond her bedroom windows, Beck went into his own bedroom to change. She heard him whistling and breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, he sounded like the happy, overgrown kid he was.

Lord, she was exhausted. The past few days had whizzed by in a blur. It was amazing, she marveled, how much preparation even a meaningless wedding required. She looked forward to a long, hot bath, followed by a quiet evening. Maybe they could light a fire and enjoy a snifter of brandy together. Get to know each other a little better. After all, they were married—for real or not. Humming softly to herself, she changed into jeans and a baggy sweater and bounced down the stairs.

In the living room, she stopped dead in her tracks. Beck, too, had donned jeans and a sweater. But he was also wearing a jacket. Avoiding her eyes, he scooped up his car keys and put them in his pocket.

Rainey was appalled. “Surely you’re not going out!”

“Actually, I am.” He fidgeted unnecessarily with the zipper on his jacket, then raised his guilty eyes to hers. “I thought I might head up to Banff. Play a few hands with Nate and the boys.”

“A few hands?”

“Yeah. Poker. Five card stud. Winner takes all. Or, in my case, loser gives all.” He chuckled lamely.

Rainey didn’t laugh. “But—but it’s…” She trailed off there, awash in feelings she didn’t understand and couldn’t explain. She had almost said, “It’s our honeymoon.” But that was just nonsense.

“Look, Rainey,” Beck grumbled. “You said it yourself. It’s not a real honeymoon. So it shouldn’t make any difference if I stay or go. Right? Besides, don’t you want to relax? Get settled in?”

Anger welled up inside Rainey, but it was stupid, inexplicable anger. She struggled to get it under control. Beck was right. It wasn’t real. Any of it. “It makes no difference at all,” she lied.

Beck left and Rainey went to the window overlooking the driveway. As the Fairlane pulled away, spitting gravel, she suddenly recalled the fuming redhead who had screamed at him on the street that day in Banff—the day they had first met with Nate Frome.

“Humph!” she snorted, steaming up the glass. “Poker, my foot!”

7

“HOW MANY CARDS?”

Beck looked up. Someone had just spoken to him. Who was it? For one dizzy moment, he thought it was Rainey. But it couldn’t be. He was here in Banff, hunched over Nate Frome’s dining room table. She was alone in his cottage, doing heaven only knew what. Probably burning his clothes by now. Cutting up his furniture. Trashing his office.

“Beck?” came the bewildered voice again.

Beck snapped to attention. Okay, it was Nate Frome. At first glance he had actually looked like Rainey. Her face had somehow been superimposed on his—on all three faces at the table, in fact. Nate’s. Arnie Hutchinson’s. Pete Wilson’s. They all looked just like her—minus the knockout body and the long legs, of course.

“Beck!” Nate repeated. He sounded more worried than impatient. “How many cards do you want?”

“Ah, I’ll take three,” Beck replied. Wait a minute. Was it three? How many cards did he have in his hand? Oh, yeah. Two. “I’ll take three,” he repeated dumbly.

A look passed between the others. Catching it out of the corner of his eye, Beck muttered, “Sorry, gentlemen. I’m a little off tonight.”

“Yeah,” Pete snorted. “Off the planet.”

“Gentlemen, let’s play cards,” Nate said wearily.

Brows furrowed, lips pursed, Beck tried to concentrate on his hand. Okay, he had the jack of spades, the seven of hearts, the nine of diamonds and two sixes—a club and another heart. Nothing. “What’s wild?” he asked, risking more ridicule.

“You being here on your wedding night,” Arnie dead-panned.

Beck struggled to arrange his facial features into something resembling intelligence. “Rainey’s getting settled in,” he explained. “I’m just killing a little time.” It sounded lame, but what else could he say? I can’t go home yet, guys, ’cause I’m hot for my wife—I just can’t keep my hands off her. Yeah, sure.

“Fives and tens,” Pete said.

Beck frowned. “What?”

Shaking his head, Pete leaned across the table. “Fives and tens are wild, Beck. Listen, buddy, maybe you should just head on home now.”

Beck peeked at his watch. It was only eight-fifteen. If he went home this early, he’d probably find Rainey awake and shredding his photo collection.

Damn that woman! She had been hotter than hell when he left, but she wasn’t having it both ways. No, sir. Either it was a real marriage, or it wasn’t. Either they were going to get down and dirty, or they weren’t. And she was adamant that they weren’t. So why was she upset? Women. He loved them, but he would never understand them.

“I’m out.” He tossed his cards facedown on the table. Grumbling, Nate and Pete did likewise, and Arnie took the pot.

Restless, Beck jumped up and poured himself a cup of the strong coffee that helped the boys to stay awake, sometimes until dawn. It was probably a mistake. Sooner or later he would have to go home, and the last thing he needed was to lie awake all night thinking about how good it would be…

Nate cleared his throat. “So, ah, Beck, tell us how you and Rainey fell in love overnight.” A chorus of snickers rose up from the table. Beck ignored it—along with the annoying smirk on Frome’s face.

Coffee in hand, he sat down again. His friendship with Nate had always had an edge to it—a friendly rivalry. After that little episode two years ago, it had gotten downright nasty. But hey—how was Beck supposed to know that Nate had been dating that woman? She certainly hadn’t mentioned it.

“I don’t know, Nate,” he replied off-handedly. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

“Okay, gentlemen,” Pete announced, “it’s kings and little ones. You don’t need the king to make the little one wild.”

The boys exchanged looks, but Beck stayed where he was.

Summoning all the concentration he could muster, Beck managed to get through the next hand, and the one after that. Between losses, his mind drifted back to Lilly’s bedroom—to the embrace that had rocked his world.

How had Rainey managed to get him worked up so quickly? Sure she was sexy. But so was Francine. And Linda before her. And Maryann before her. They were all babes, but none of them got his hormones cooking the way Rainey Miller did. None of them sent his libido into hyperdrive whenever she touched him.

Francine. Linda. Maryann. Beck could have any one of them tonight, he knew. Yup, even on his wedding night. One phone call was all it would take. But he didn’t want them. He wanted Gorgeous Green Eyes. Badly.

“So,” Arnie ventured, “I don’t suppose there’s a connection between your recent marriage and your inheritance, is there?”

Momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of the question, Beck glanced around the table at the others. Their faces were impassive, their eyes glued firmly to their hands. What the hell. There was no point in getting riled. Obviously he was going to have to get used to this kind of stuff.

He rearranged his own cards. “No connection at all, Arnie. As you know, I was going to get the money, anyway.”

“Hmm.” Arnie pretended to be fascinated by his hand.

Beck knew that more was coming. Sure enough, two hands later, Arnie added, “Yeah, but not for another three years. Isn’t that right?” That launched another round of snickers. Pete eventually laughed so hard he spit a mouthful of coffee clear across the table onto Nate’s Polo shirt.

Okay, that was it. “I’m outta here!” Beck snapped. “’Bout time.” Nate said with a laugh. He dabbed at his shirt with a napkin. “If I had a woman like that in my bed, I would have been gone hours ago.”

As Beck was nearing the door, Pete called out from the table, “Hey, buddy. Don’t forget, you promised to help me build my garage. I really want to get it done before the snow flies. Can I still count on you?”

“Of course,” Beck replied without hesitation. Actually, he’d completely forgotten about it. “Just call me when you’re ready.”

“Terrific. Thanks.”

On the forty-minute drive home, Beck concentrated on the ribbon of pavement in front of him. It was just after ten, but the sky was already black. Winter was coming. How the hell was he going to get through a long, cold Alberta winter with the hottest woman he’d ever met sleeping in the room right next to his?

Yeah, well, like it or not, he would just have to bide his time. Rainey was “vulnerable.” There would be no rushing her. And Lord knew the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. After all, what if she did turn out to be the perfect woman for him?

As he pulled into the driveway, it occurred to him that what he needed was a coping strategy. Hmm. Maybe if he kept busy, day and night, and kept Rainey busy, too, they would survive this ordeal intact. The inn would use up their days, but that left the evenings and weekends. Something would have to be done about them.

What a waste, he thought sadly. Killing time when they could be making love, talking, snuggling, making love, cooking, watching TV, making love, reading, hiking, making love…

Mercifully, the house was dark. Inside, he tiptoed into the living room and turned on the halogen reading lamp next to his favorite chair.

And blinked.

The room was spotless. He soon discovered that the entire main floor of the house had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. He chuckled to himself.

Yup. Keeping busy. It was the only way.

“RISE AND SHINE, sleepyhead. It’s seven o’clock.”

Rainey peeled one eye open and peered up at Beck. When his fuzzy face finally came into focus, she muttered, “You mean, like, in the morning?”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, like, in the morning.”

Groaning, she rolled over and burrowed deeper under the blankets. Ten years of working the night shift had turned her into a night owl. She didn’t do mornings. Last night, however, she had hit the sack early, then tossed and turned for hours. In fact, she had been wide-awake when Beck got home. Just after ten—10:23, to be exact. Not that she cared, or anything.

“C’mon, woman.” He jabbed at the blankets.

“Go away!”

“Okay, I’m leaving, but if you don’t get up in the next two minutes, I’ll be back with a bucket of ice water.”

Ice water? A chill ran down Rainey’s spine and she shivered violently. “You’re mean. Go away!”

“Two minutes, woman.”

She poked her head out from under the warm down comforter. “Why do I have to get up this early on a Sunday?”

He grinned. “I have plans for you.”

“What kind of plans?”

“You’ll know soon enough. Now get up. Your breakfast is waiting.”

Breakfast? He had to be joking. Rainey ate breakfast when most people had already eaten lunch, lunch when they were just plopping down in front of the television, and dinner when they were undressing for bed. No way was she putting food in her stomach at this ungodly hour.

After Beck backed out of the room, counting backward from 120, she crawled out of bed, donned her terry cloth bathrobe and pulled a comb through her tangled hair. Still half asleep, she stumbled downstairs, only to be assaulted by the noxious odor of bacon and eggs. Yuck!

“How about cereal with skim milk?” she suggested hopefully. Yawning, she poured a cup of steaming hot coffee and slumped down at the kitchen table.

“Eat up,” Beck commanded, setting a plate of the cholesterol-heavy food down in front of her. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us, and you’re going to need more than cereal.”

“Who ever needs more than cereal?”

“You do. Your cappuccino and croissant days are over. You’re a mountain woman now.”

While Rainey picked at her food, Beck, astonishingly, dropped to the floor and cranked out twenty push-ups. Her mouth fell open. What the devil? Surely he wasn’t this hyper every morning at seven? Puh-leez. Immediately afterward, he sprang to his feet and did a dozen jumping jacks. Then, flushed and panting, he ran on the spot for a while. It was only five minutes or so, but it seemed much longer to Rainey.

Still running, he barked at her like a drill sergeant. “Hey! Eat those eggs. If you don’t, I’m going to make you drop to the floor and give me ten.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “How ’bout I give you ten dollars to get lost?”

“Not funny. Down the hatch, woman.”

Before Rainey knew what had hit her she was in the Fairlane, hurtling down the sun-dappled highway at break-neck speed. Fir trees flew by in a blur. Small wildlife entered her peripheral vision only to vanish milliseconds later. All the while Beck chattered nonstop, switching wildly from one topic to another. He had to be on drugs.

Last night, she had gone to bed cursing him but had quickly come to her senses. For one thing, this was strictly a business deal, and wasn’t it she who had insisted they keep their business and personal lives separate? It might be tough under the circumstances, but it wasn’t impossible.

For another thing, she just couldn’t seem to stay mad at the guy for long. Why was that? Of course, she might just be influenced this time by the fact that he had come home pretty early last night. Obviously he hadn’t been with a woman, as she had assumed. Maybe he couldn’t find one. Oh, yeah, sure! Beck Mahoney—unable to find a woman? The guy would find friendly female flesh in a nunnery.

From time to time, Rainey stole a sideways glance at him. In profile he was treacherously handsome, his aquiline nose and sculptured lips perfectly aligned between his strong forehead and square, manly chin.

As he babbled on about fishing rights in the national parks, she stifled the urge to reach out and touch his cheek. Oh, Rainey, she silently chastised herself, don’t get all sweet on the guy. There’s nothing in it but a broken heart. Besides, things are complicated enough.

When Beck stopped yapping long enough to catch his breath, she demanded to know, once and for all, exactly where they were going.

“Up,” he finally admitted. “Straight up the Galatea Trail in Kananaskis Provincial Park, the most beautiful place on earth.”

He was right. It was beautiful. Breathtaking, actually. Soon after they turned south off the Trans-Canada Highway onto a secondary blacktop, the forest hugging both sides of the road grew taller and denser and more varied. It was an explosion of green, punctuated here and there by startling bursts of pastel. A light breeze whistled through the trees, and the sky above was a perfect robin’s egg blue. Rainey sighed with pleasure—until she realized what Beck had just said.

“What do you mean by up?” she asked. “Exactly how far up are we going? And how are we getting there?”

“Eight kilometers, on foot. That’s about five miles, if you prefer the linear to the metric measurement.”

Eight kilometers? Good grief! Rainey struggled to recall the last thing she had climbed. Oh, yeah. The little ladder astride the bunk beds in Dana’s bedroom. Twenty years ago. Terrific.

“Please tell me we’re not going to be rappelling off the side of anything!” she cried.

He shook his head. “Not today. That’s next week. Today we’re just hiking. That’s about all you city types can handle on a first run.”

In the public parking lot at the mouth of the trail, they encountered two of the giggly young clerks from Nate Frome’s office—a petite blonde with a Kewpie doll mouth, and a lanky brunette who couldn’t peel her eyes off Beck for a second. Looking clear through Rainey, she whined, “Is it true what everybody is saying, Beck? That you’re married?” She made married sound like poisoned.

“’Fraid so, ladies. This is my wife, Rainey.” Beck draped his arm around Rainey’s shoulders and drew her close. She put her arm around him, and they both beamed foolishly at the young women.

“How do you do, Mrs. Mahoney?” the blonde asked politely. Rainey blinked. Mrs. Mahoney? Maybe they should have talked about that name thing, too. Oh, well, it went with the territory, she supposed.

“Very well, thank you,” she replied.

The women immediately dismissed her and started to chatter at Beck. Relieved, Rainey slipped out from under his arm—it felt a little too right—and took another look around.

“You know, you’re putting a big dent in my fan club,” Beck joked after his admirers bounced off in the direction of the trail.

Rainey rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, some dent!”

Laughing, Beck fished his backpack out of the trunk. He had made sandwiches for them, and brought fruit along, too. While Rainey appraised the steep, tree-lined cliffs facing them, he took something out of the backpack. “Rainey?” He tossed it to her. It was a necklace—a whistle, actually, suspended from a long shoelace.

She eyed it suspiciously. “What’s this for?”

“Bears,” he said without looking at her. “The trail will be nearly deserted today. Every now and then, we’ll give it a blow, just to let them know we’re here.”

Rainey gasped. “Bears! Beck Mahoney, you didn’t say anything about bears!”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said as if she were a hopeless worrywart. “It’s just a precaution, that’s all.”

She nodded and murmured, “Uh-huh.” She didn’t believe that for one minute!

They began the long, slow ascent. Beck went first, occasionally reaching back to help Rainey step up to a high ledge, or get over an outcropping of sharp rock. The mountainside was steep in some places, mercifully flat in others. Whenever they reached a level place, Rainey fell to the ground, gasping for air and begging for mercy.

“Buck up there, woman!” Beck teased. “It’s a long way up.”

Between the infrequent plateaus conversation proved impossible. It took every ounce of breath Rainey had just to blow the whistle. Beck had been right; the trail was seldom used at this time of year. But once in a while, when they stopped to rest, small groups of hikers overtook them.

At the halfway point, two stunning women about Rainey’s age passed by. They were moving at a good clip, and neither of them had so much as broken a sweat. Rainey, on the other hand, was drenched. Long ago she had peeled off her sweatshirt and tied it around her waist. Her skimpy T-shirt was damp, her face smudged, her upper arms scratched and bloody from numerous encounters with prickly branches.

She wanted to kill the women. Especially when one of them drawled, “Hi, Beck. Let me know if it doesn’t work out,” before tossing her chestnut mane in Rainey’s face and continuing along the trail. Beck’s only reaction was to check Rainey for her reaction. Seeing the stunned disbelief in her eyes, he threw back his head and roared.

The climb took nearly four hours. At the top they paused and surveyed the scene. Rainey’s jaw dropped.

A lush, green meadow stretched out before them, dotted with wildflowers in every color of the rainbow. Beyond it lay Mirror Lake, a shallow body of water so clear, so pristine, it seemed immoral even to look upon it. The nearby adjacent mountain peaks were perfectly reflected in the calm surface of the lake. It was an upside down photo, flawlessly framed and focused by nature itself.

Overcome with emotion, Rainey could barely speak. “Oh, Beck,” she finally managed to whisper, “I had no idea.” She squinted up at him. “Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you.”

He beamed. “My pleasure.”

They found an isolated, grassy slope near the water and lay down, side by side. The air was cool at that elevation, but the sun was hot—a phenomenon of mountainous areas, Rainey knew. She closed her eyes. Sometime later—time had ceased to exist—she opened them again. Beck had turned onto his side and sat up on one elbow. He was gazing dreamily into her eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to kiss a beautiful woman up here,” he murmured softly.

Rainey cocked an eyebrow. “You mean you haven’t?” Surely he was joshing. Surely he had brought other women here—and kissed them all soundly.

“No, I haven’t,” he insisted.

He was telling the truth. She knew it.

“Well, you’ve got plenty of women to choose from up here.” She chuckled nervously. “I think I saw—”

Before she could finish, his right hand slipped under her back, inside her T-shirt and along her bare skin to rest between her shoulder blades. His mouth came down softly on hers.

When he pulled back, moments later, she gulped. “Beck, nobody is watching. You don’t have to—”

He silenced her with another kiss, longer and deeper this time. While Rainey moaned, his hand eased around to make light contact with the side of her firm, bare breast. When his thumb grazed her swollen nipple, a small cry escaped from Rainey’s throat and that darned throbbing started in her lower belly again. Unable to resist, she raked her fingers through his hair.

So what if they had no audience? So what if he had a stable of women? He was one gorgeous man.

“Actually, someone is watching!” came a harsh female voice from behind them.

Beck’s head snapped back. Blushing like crazy, Rainey pushed him away, scrambled to a sitting position and hastily rearranged her rumpled T-shirt. They both climbed to their feet. A woman stood behind them, feet planted firmly apart, arms folded, eyes spitting fire. It was the redhead from Banff.

“Hello, Francine,” Beck muttered.

“Hello, Beck,” the woman snarled. “Long time no see.” Her eyes slid over Rainey as if she were pond scum. Addressing Beck but still glowering at Rainey, she said, “I hear you got married. A bit sudden, wasn’t it?”

“Not at all.” He gestured between the women. “Rainey, this is Francine Yates. Francine, my wife, Rainey.”

“How do you do?” Rainey asked politely. The woman didn’t respond.

“Does this mean you’re out of circulation now?” Francine asked Beck.

“That’s exactly what it means, Francine.”

She snorted. “Sure it does.” She appraised Rainey from head to toe. “Watch your heart, lady.”

Anger welled up inside Rainey. Anger at the impertinence of this bitter creature, anger at Beck for finding her buttons and pushing them and anger at herself for being weak and stupid, as usual.

“Well you needn’t worry. I won’t trouble you further,” Francine huffed, then marched off toward the picnic area. They watched her retreating back until it was just a dot on the landscape, then Beck moved toward Rainey, smiling hopefully. “Now, where were we?”

She backed away and held up her hands. “Look, Beck, this is too much. Your life is way too complicated for me.”

Astonishingly, he stomped his foot. “Ah, c’mon, Rainey! She’s a reporter for the Banff Cragg and Canyon. She came to Nakiska Ski Lodge last winter to write a piece on the ski patrol. We went out a few times. That was all.”

Shaking, Rainey sat down again and reached for the backpack. “It’s time for lunch. I’m starving.”

“Rainey!”

Before she could censor herself, the question she was dying to ask slipped out of her mouth. “Tell me something. Did you and she…?”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?” It didn’t matter. Really it didn’t. Did it?

Beck started to laugh. “Obviously it matters to you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too!”

She sighed. “It’s okay, Beck. Honestly. Let’s just eat.”