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“I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not.”
That last was said coolly, as a colonel to a buck private. She was not used to being addressed like this. When it came to men, she was accustomed to being the one with the upper hand.
“I don’t think you can stop me, really, Mr.—”
“Boyd. Garret.”
“Mr. Boyd. As I was saying—”
“I can’t stop you. That’s what you were saying.”
His eyes had narrowed to slits. He looked dangerous and strong. Everything about him said he could stop her in an instant
“If you’ll just show me in which direction the bus station is—”
“It’s probably ten degrees below zero outside right now. You’re not exactly dressed for a hike to the bus station.” His eyes rested meaningfully on the short hem of her skirt, drifted down her leg like a touch, then rested on her flimsy shoes.
She resisted the urge to tug the skirt down and tried to hide her toes. “Call me a cab, then.”
He sighed. “You said you left him your card. In exchange for the ring.”
“Yes, but—”
“And that you left the name of your hotel and your room number on it.”
“Well, still—”
“You might find a very nasty surprise waiting for you back at that hotel. Or even back in San Diego. I think you’d better talk to the police.”
She sank back onto her chair. He was right. She hated that. When other people were right.
She watched him move to the shrieking kettle and unplug it, scooping up a telephone receiver with his other hand. He dialed a phone number—she didn’t even know that kind of phone existed anymore—and spoke quietly into it for a minute.
He came back to the table, the steaming kettle in one hand, two pottery mugs in the other. He set them down, along with pouches of gourmet hot chocolate.
“Constable Frey will be here soon. Twenty minutes to half an hour.”
That was soon? “He’s not riding his horse, is he?”
He shot her a look that branded her unbelievably stupid.
“Royal Canadian Mounted Police,” she shot back at him. She’d seen postcards of Canada’s colorful police all over Vancouver. Always dressed in beautiful, flaming red jackets with Yogi Bear kind of hats, and always - on horseback.
“They drive cars these days. Except for ceremonial purposes. Hot chocolate?” he asked. “This one’s good.”
He showed her a packet labeled white chocolate and hazelnut.
She nodded numbly and the steaming cup was set before her. Don’t ask, she commanded herself. Toni, don’t you dare ask
“Where’s your wife?” she asked.
“I’m not married.”
Not married. If she was not mistaken, that ring, sitting in the middle of his solid oak kitchen table, had started winking like a neon sign.
His voice held absolutely no invitation.
She took a sip of the hot chocolate and nearly closed her eyes with pure pleasure. A man who could make this, not married?
Toni, she told herself, it came out of a pouch. “This is delicious,” she murmured.
“My favorite flavor.”
Already something in common! Don’t ask, she commanded herself again. Toni, don’t you dare ask.
“Divorced?” she asked, looking up at him over the rim of her cup.
He looked annoyed. “I’ve never been married.”
By the tone of his voice, he never planned to be, either.
Toni, I absolutely forbid you to ask him about the baby.
“The baby?” she asked.
Fleeting sadness passed through his eyes before they were hooded from her. “My niece. Who would kill you with a look for calling her a baby. A long story,” he said curtly. “I’m just going to turn on the TV. I’ve got to catch the weather forecast for the next few days.”
He didn’t want to talk to her! Another reaction she was not at all accustomed to.
He had a small TV mounted tastefully in a cabinet above his table. Not long after he’d turned it on, a knock came at the door. He got up and stretched. He had a great-looking body, put together like a man who worked hard and physically.
Don’t ask him what he does for a living, she told herself. And this time she didn’t. She could see the weariness in him.
He went to the door, and a moment later, Toni heard another male voice.
“Hey, where’s my angel?”
“Still at Candy’s. And she’s been a devil for the past few days. I don’t suppose you know anything about French braids, do you?”
It seemed incongruous that the stern, quiet man who had just shared this table with her was now discussing French braids with such deadly seriousness. She wanted to laugh but suppressed the urge.
“Sure,” the other voice said. “It’s a kind of bread.”
“Sorry I asked.”
“What did the doc say about her being so little?”
“It’s normal. She’s small for her age now, but it will probably all average out in the end”
“That’s what I thought. So, what’s going on?”
Toni could hear them moving toward her now. She suddenly felt rumpled and confused and like she was going to burst into tears at any moment.
Garret came back in the room trailed by a tall, young policeman who would have seemed gorgeous at any other time. But his blond good looks now paled beside the dark electricity of Garret Boyd.
“You’re not in red!” she protested, noting his rather drab uniform.
He laughed. “Where’d you say she was from, Garret?”
“She says San Diego.”
As if everything she said was open to question. She glared at Garret. He didn’t seem to notice.
“That explains it.” The policeman was open and friendly, and unless she was mistaken, at least a little bit flirtatious. He sat down across from her, Garret got him a hot chocolate, and she told the whole story again. “And this is the ring he gave you?” Constable Frey asked at the end of the interview.
She picked it up. “It is. He said it would bring great happiness.” She deliberately left out the husband and baby part “Had. So far, it’s brought me nothing but grief.”
As if in confirmation, the sound on the television seemed to jump out.
“And just to recap tonight’s top story,” the anchor said, “an art exhibit on loan to Canada from China was stolen en route to the museum in the early hours of the morning. Several pieces of missing jewelry are considered priceless, including this ring.”
A still photograph of the ring that was in her hand appeared on the television screen. Three pairs of eyes moved from her hand to the screen and back again. She looked at both their faces, first Constable Frey’s and then Garret Boyd’s.
There was no doubt abut it. They thought she was a thief!
She wanted to cry, but she had been in business too long to give in to the impulse. Instead, she made her face into a mask of indifference and sipped her chocolate.
“I’m going to make a few calls,” Constable Frey said, taking the ring and leaping to his feet.
Garret shot him a dirty look. Great, his expression said. Abandoned with an hysterical international jewel thief.
“I am not hysterical,” she insisted.
He said nothing.
“And I am not a thief.”
“I didn’t say you were hysterical or a thief.”
“I saw the look on your face.”
“Lady, I’m tired, okay? International jewel thievery aside, the most important thing on my mind is finding a sitter for Angelica so when twelve people descend on me less than one day from now to learn about search and rescue, I can devote myself to them.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrupt your life.”
Search and rescue. He found lost people in these foreboding mountains. He taught other people how to do it Every now and then, all too rarely, she’d meet someone ideally suited to his or her job. And he was one of those people. She wondered if she was and then felt annoyed with herself. Her job was her whole life. Of course she was suited to it.
“Not your fault,” he said gruffly.
Constable Frey rejoined them. “Things aren’t good,” he said.
She sighed. “Okay. Arrest me, then. Get me out of this poor man’s hair. I’m disrupting his search for a baby-sitter.”
I’m thanking about husbands and babies and whether I’m suited for my job. Get me out of here. Fast.
“The man who runs that jewelry store you were in today has been reported missing by his mother.”
“Oh, no!” Her hand flew to her mouth in genuine horror.
“And your hotel room has been virtually dismantled.”
“Is anything missing?” she asked.
He looked at her shrewdly. “Such as?”
“I have a camera. I saved two years to buy it—oh, never mind. How ridiculous to worry about my camera when that poor man is missing.”
“I’ll ask about the camera next time I call. Meantime, how would you feel about lying low for a while? Here.”
“Here?” she cried in unison with Garret.
“Somebody’s looking for you. The question is who? By now, they probably know more about you than your own mother. If these people are sophisticated, and it seems they are, the first time you use your credit card, they’ve got you.”
“But they’ll stop looking once it’s been made public the ring has been found. Won’t they?”
“This ring,” the constable said softly, “might be all that’s keeping that jewelry store owner alive.”
“Good grief!”
“Seems to me, the way you left town is almost providential. You vanished into thin air. You can’t be traced. Nobody is ever going to look for you in Eliza. Ever.”
She was gaping at him. So was Garret.
“There only appeared to be three or four houses in Eliza,” she pointed out. “You weren’t like, um, going to take me into protective custody or something, were you?”
“Nah. Garret’s got a spare room.”
Garret said something very rude.
“And,” Constable Frey added with a sweet smile, “he desperately needs a sitter for a few days.”
Toni said something very rude. “I don’t know anything about babies!”
“Neither did he a few months ago.”
“Angelica hates being called a baby. She’s sensitive about her size.” Garret said this absently, looking at her differently now that she might have some value to him.
