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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.
