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Maggie tried to fill the uncomfortable gap the way a hostess should, yet all she could see was Nate, holding a smoking gun. The thought chilled her considerably.
“That must be very stressful.”
Nate nodded. “It can be, yes.”
Jen’s voice interrupted again. “Is that why you’re here?”
Maggie kicked her beneath the table. Jen bit down on her lip but watched him, undeterred.
Nate swallowed. “Part of it, yes. I was directed to take some time off after a…particularly challenging case. A little rest and relaxation is just what the doctor ordered.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t as warm as before. “In keeping with that, I’d appreciate if you’d keep my presence here low-key. I realize it’s a small community, but right now I want to enjoy the outdoors and not worry about speculation.”
Maggie aimed a stern look at Jennifer before turning to Nate and answering.
“Of course. You are a guest here, and of course we’ll respect your wishes. That’s what the Haven is all about.” At least she didn’t have to worry right now. He was on vacation. What he did for a living had no bearing on anything.
“Thank you,” he murmured. He picked up his spoon again and resumed eating, and Jennifer wisely let the subject drop for the rest of the meal.
“Dessert, Mr. Griffith?”
Nate looked up at Maggie as she removed his plate and bowl. The meal had had its uncomfortable moments, but he was actually glad the questions had been asked and answered. He got the feeling that Maggie would have been too polite to ask point-blank what her daughter had. Not only that, but the questions had provided a natural way to introduce his cover. Even if he did feel a bit guilty about the half-lie. He’d deliberately prodded her about some things, like asking if she ran the bed and breakfast alone when he knew darn well she did. Still…it was all necessary.
Maggie was waiting, her lips curved pleasantly in what he now realized was her hostess smile. “I shouldn’t…but maybe you could tell me what it is first.”
Her lips twitched…a good sign, he thought. She’d looked far too serious throughout the rest of the meal. If he could get her to relax a bit, it would go a lot easier toward getting what he needed to know without her feeling like she was being questioned.
“Peach and blueberry tart with ice cream,” she answered.
Jennifer clattered around the kitchen, already scooping out servings. “Can’t really resist that, now can I,” he acquiesced. “So…yes, please. And stop calling me Mr. Griffith. Mr. Griffith is my father or my uncle.”
Maggie put on coffee while Jennifer finished doling out servings of the tart, taking hers and escaping to the den and the television. When Maggie placed the dessert before him, the smell alone was enough to remind him of home. Sweets weren’t something he indulged in much anymore, but his mother was a fantastic baker and plied him with goodies whenever he visited. Right now the scent of fruit and cinnamon took him back to when things were much simpler. Made him wish this were that simple, instead of him having to work his way through hidden motives. But this was the closest lodging to where he needed to be and the most private. There hadn’t been much of a choice, so he had to work with what he’d been given.
“What made you decide to take on a business such as this?” He decided to draw her out by talking about herself. “It has to be a huge job for one person.”
Maggie avoided answering by pouring coffee into thick pottery mugs.
“I had this house and a whole lot of empty rooms,” she explained. Her pulse quickened as she was drawn back nearly twenty years. “I had a house and a baby and a foster child and needed to support us all.”
Nate’s fork paused midair. “Children? As in plural?”
Maggie smiled thinly. “Yes, for a while I looked after my cousin, until he grew up and did his own thing. He’s thirty-one now.”
His fork dipped into a slice of peach but Maggie noticed a pair of creases between his brows. She tried to lighten the mood by cracking a joke. “Now you’re doing the math. How old must I be to have an eighteen-year-old daughter and a foster child of thirty-one?”
He swallowed and reached for his water as a snort of mirth bubbled out at her directness, easing the tension. “I guess I am.”
“I’ll save you the trouble. I’m forty-two. I was twenty-four when Jennifer was born. Mike was thirteen. He came to me when he was eleven— when I was twenty-two.”
She passed him the cream and sugar, then resumed her seat. “And now you want to ask the question and don’t know how to do it politely.”
Her heart fluttered. Talking about it was hard, and no matter how many times she answered, it never seemed to get any easier. But by now she knew that it was best to get it over with, quick and clean.
Nate had given up all pretense of eating and was watching her closely, so she tried her safest smile. “When I was twenty-five, my husband, Jennifer’s dad, was killed in a work accident.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
Conversation halted. Probing the topic further would be presumptuous, which was part of the reason why Maggie tended to get it over with as soon as possible. Once it was out there, most dropped the subject, uncomfortable with the idea of asking how it had happened, or worse, why she hadn’t married again. She knew her reasons. That was enough.
Nate put a bite of pastry and ice cream in his mouth. Her answers had been plain at best, and he knew she was skimming the surface, evading deeper responses. It would be rude to press further. And how much did he really want to know? He was here for a short time. It would be best if he stayed out of her way as much as possible, kept her questions to a minimum. Get the answers he needed and no more.
Besides, there were some questions about his life he wouldn’t want to answer. If she wanted to keep her life private, that was fine by him. What he needed from her had nothing to do with her private life beyond Jennifer’s—and her—involvement.
The candle at the center of the table flickered and he watched the flame dance.
Maggie sipped her coffee and changed the subject. “So what brings you to back roads Alberta? Most would choose a more touristy area. Like Banff, or somewhere south of the border. Montana or Colorado. There’s nothing around here besides snow and prairie and a bunch of ranches mixed in with the gas industry.”
“If this is your tourism pitch, I can see why your beds are empty,” he joked.
“This isn’t our big season,” she answered. “Like I said, most would head to the mountains for the skiing and richer comforts. We get most of our traffic in the summer.”
“I’m surprised you don’t vacation in the winter, then,” Nate suggested.
When she didn’t answer right away, he peered closer at her face and it struck him. “You do usually travel, don’t you? Is my being here…” He paused, knew he was right by the uncomfortable way her gaze evaded his. “You canceled plans because I was coming.” He hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought of anything beyond doing this assignment, and then dealing with the details.
She shook her head. “It’s no bother. I hadn’t even booked anything yet.”
“But you were going to,” he confirmed.
Maggie looked up at him and he was struck again by how young she looked. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought they were close to the same age.
“Mexico isn’t going anywhere.” She smiled shyly, and their gazes caught.
She tried to cover the moment with her own question. “How long have you been a marshal?”
“Five years. Before that I was in the marines.”
“Oh.”
He grinned at her. “And now you’re trying to do the math. I’ll save you the trouble. I’m thirty-three.”
“And you like it?”
“I couldn’t do it otherwise.”
Somehow their voices had softened in the candlelight, taking on an intimacy that surprised him, pleasantly. He watched as Maggie bit the inside of her lower lip and released it. She had a beautiful mouth. A mouth made for kissing.
When he lifted his gaze she was watching him, and her expression was fascination mixed with shock that he’d been staring at her lips.
Attraction, he realized. It had been a long time since he’d felt it. But there was definitely a familiar surge in his blood as his eyes locked with Maggie’s, blocking out the muted sound of the television coming from the den. Maggie Taylor raised his temperature and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.
It was a complication he didn’t need.All he really wanted to do was what he’d been sent here to do. He’d put on a good face; pretended this was just a vacation for some relaxation, but he wouldn’t have chosen this for a holiday. His idea of fun wasn’t in the middle of some godforsaken Canadian Prairie at a bed and breakfast. He certainly hadn’t expected to feel whatever it was he was feeling for the proprietress. He wasn’t sure if the desire to flirt with her was a detriment or a bonus.
The light from the candles sputtered, throwing shadows on her face. She was as different from his regular type as sun was from rain. Subdued, polite, grounded, yet anything but boring. It took a woman of character and stamina to lose a husband so young and still bring up a family and run a business. How had she done it all alone?
Jen coughed in the den and Maggie looked away as the moment ended. Nate caught his breath as the color bloomed in her cheeks. He hadn’t imagined it, then.
“Excuse me, I should clean this up.” Her voice was overbright as she scrambled up from the table, knocking over her empty mug.
It crashed to the floor, breaking into three distinct pieces.
“Oh, how clumsy of me!” Without looking at him, she knelt to the floor to pick up the pieces. Nate watched, amused. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who intrigued him, and even longer since he’d had the power to fluster one the way Maggie seemed to be right now.
“Let me help you,” he suggested, pushing out of his chair and squatting down beside her.
“Ow!”
Maggie sat back, one of the pieces of pottery in her left hand and a small shard sticking out of a finger on the opposite hand. A drop of blood formed around the tip.
“Maggie, take a breath.” Nate took her hand gently in his. “Are you sure coffee was a good idea?” He chuckled as he concentrated on her finger, pinching the fragment between his thumb and forefinger. “Perhaps decaf next time, hmmm?”
He pulled out the shard, but it had gone deeper than he expected and the drop of blood turned into a substantial streak.
“Do you have a first-aid kit?”
Her voice was subdued. “Of course I do. Under the sink in the bathroom.”
He rose and headed for the stairs.
“The one over there. In my living quarters.”
He stopped and looked at the closed door leading off the kitchen. She had wrapped a napkin around the finger and stood up, taking the larger pieces of the mug and placing them gently on the table.
“I’ll get it,” she said.
“No, you sit tight. I will.”
Nate changed direction and went through the door, feeling somehow like he was trespassing. This was crazy. Less than six hours here and he was flirting with the owner and wandering around her private living space. He went into the bathroom, surprised by the scent of cinnamon and apples coming from a scented oil dispenser plugged into the wall. Switching on a light, he was bathed in an intimate glow—no blaring bulbs here. Soothing blue and deep red splashes of color accented the ivory decor. Nate felt very much like he was intruding.
He searched the small vanity cupboard until he found a white box with a red cross on the top. He shut off the light and went back to the kitchen, where he found Maggie at the sink, the napkin off her finger as she ran it beneath cold water. She lifted it out of the stream and looked at it closely in the soft light from above the sink.
“I think all of it came out,” she explained. “What a klutz I am.”
“Not at all.” Nate sat the kit down on the counter and flipped open the lid. “It’s not deep, so you just need a small bandage.”
“I can get it, truly.”
“You’re right handed, aren’t you? Putting it on lefty would be awkward. I’ve got two capable hands.”
Maggie looked down at his fingers holding the bandage. Capable indeed. His hands were wide, with long tapering fingers. She swallowed, but held out her finger anyway.
The sound of the paper wrapper tearing off the bandage echoed through the kitchen. Nate stepped closer, anchoring one sticky end and then holding her hand before wrapping the rest around and sticking it to itself. Her heart pounded painfully; she was sure he could hear it as he applied the small wrap.
“All better,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He started to pull his hand away, but for a long moment his fingertips stayed on hers. She lifted her eyes to his and found him watching her steadily. Oxygen seemed scarce as she fell entranced by his intense eyes, the shape of his lips. Lips that leaned in ever so slightly.
“You’re welcome.” And he lifted her finger to his lips and kissed the tip.
CHAPTER THREE
NATE flipped through the channels aimlessly. There really wasn’t going to be much to do here in the evenings, especially when the days were still fairly short. At the end of March, this far north, it was full dark early in the evening. Whatever work he did, it would be during the day. It was becoming very clear that after dinner he’d either spend his time here, in the den, or upstairs in his room reading or working online.
He’d rather be upstairs, putting his thoughts together, but on the off-chance that Maggie might come in, he stayed.
He had questions, ones whose answers could get him started in the right direction. Not to mention the fact that he’d enjoyed their little interplay in the kitchen earlier. It had been a long time since he’d indulged in a little harmless flirtation.
Maggie entered with a coffee carafe and mugs on a tray. She put them down on the coffee table. “I thought you might like some coffee,” she offered. “I made a fresh pot and promise not to break any more mugs.” She smiled tentatively.
The brew smelled wonderful and Nate brushed aside the thought that he’d be up all night if he drank too much of it. He wasn’t about to refuse the gesture. If nothing else, it would give him more time with her, and that wasn’t a hardship. “That would be wonderful.” When she poured the first cup, he nodded to the second. “Are you joining me?”
She smiled. “If you like.”
Nate looked up into her eyes. They were warm and friendly with something more. Perhaps a shy invitation, definitely a quiet curiosity. “I would like.” He returned her smile. “It’s quiet. The company would be nice.”
Maggie took her own cup and sat, not on the sofa next to him, but in a nearby chair. Nate was taking up the couch and she was far too aware of him to sit next to him. In the winter months, this room became the family room, and she often snuggled up on the couch with a blanket and a DVD. In season, it was where the guests went to relax.
Normally she didn’t socialize with her guests, either. But normally her guests didn’t travel alone at the end of winter. She was accustomed to guests traveling in pairs. A romantic getaway, or a stop on the way to somewhere else. Very rarely did she have singles, and when she did, it was nearly always in prime season when they were out exploring the area or the nearby Rockies, or when other guests were present to facilitate conversation.
But Nate was definitely here alone. She’d noticed the absence of a wedding ring at dinner.
“This gives me a chance to pick your brain,” he was saying, and she stopped staring at his hands and paid attention. The tingling sensation that he was more than he seemed prickled once more.
“Pick my brain?”
“About things to do while I’m here.”
She exhaled slowly. Just tourist information, then. She’d had the uncomfortable feeling after their interchange in the kitchen that he was about to get personal. “Well, there are always day trips into the mountains. I have pamphlets, but there are lots of winter activities there.” She crossed her legs, adopting the tour-guide voice she used with guests. “Or a few hours either northeast or south will take you to major cities for shopping, the arts, whatever you want.”
“I meant more locally. What I can do with Mountain Haven as my base.” Nate put down his cup and leaned forward slightly. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook, it seemed.
Maggie swallowed. His voice was deep and a little rough; it rumbled with soft seduction through the room. The remembrance of her finger against his lips rippled through her.
“We’re…we’re usually closed this time of year. I’m afraid I haven’t given it much thought.”
