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“Write a story from the angle of an investigative reporter uncovering the mystery of his mother’s death. On the clock, of course.”
Ben felt his muscles bunch. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I know you, Ben. Writing’s cathartic. It’d be a way for you to deal with the past once and for all.” He hesitated, as though unsure whether to continue. Finally, he did. “Not to mention it’d make a really good story.”
Joe’s argument had merit. Ben totally engrossed himself in a story until it came out in print. Only then could he let it go. Maybe Joe was right. Maybe writing the story would exorcise his demons.
“What about that tip?” Ben realized he’d just agreed to his boss’s proposition.
“I’ll have Larry Timmons look in to it.” Joe named an ambitious reporter who had assisted Ben on a few occasions, a young guy hungry to get ahead—Larry reminded Ben of himself. “He’s been hounding me for a chance to take the lead on a big story.”
It went against Ben’s makeup to put anyone else in the driver’s seat, let alone somebody who would fight not to give up the wheel. “Maybe what I need to do won’t take long.”
Joe snorted softly. “With a rottweiler, it usually doesn’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“Rottweiler,” Joe repeated. “That’s what the other reporters call you.”
Ben hadn’t been aware he had a nickname. “Do I want to know why?”
“Once you sink your teeth in a story, you don’t let go.” Joe seemed to relish in the telling. “That Dr. Whitmore doesn’t stand a chance.”
CHAPTER TWO
DR. SIERRA WHITMORE turned away from her reflection in the gift-shop window too late to avoid the image of the long, caramel-brown hair she’d been too chicken to part with.
“Just a trim, please,” she muttered to herself.
That’s what she’d requested when the hip, young stylist who was the new hire at her hair salon asked if she was feeling adventurous. Her intention to have her hair cut boy-short never made it past her lips.
Sierra fished a tie out of her purse and hastily pulled her hair into a loose twist, the way she usually wore it, silently berating herself all the while for her stunning lack of courage.
“Hello, Dr. Whitmore.”
The greeting pulled Sierra out of her daze. The woman passing her on the sidewalk in the heart of the picturesque downtown of Indigo Springs was a patient at the practice where Sierra worked in partnership with her brother.
“Good day, Mrs. Jorgenson.”
The woman gave her a tepid smile and kept walking.
Good day.
Had Sierra really just said that? The woman was roughly her age. She should have uttered a casual hello and addressed her by her first name, like a normal person would have done.
It was time she faced up to the terrible truth her ex-boyfriend, Chad Armstrong, had slammed her with when he broke up with her last month.
She was boring.
Mind-numbingly, nobody’s-in-a-rut-deeper-than-I-am boring.
Even more dull than Chad himself, who could kill a conversation with his pharmacist shoptalk when he bothered to say anything at all.
If the charge wasn’t true, she’d be headed out of town to meet an old college friend for a wild weekend of clubbing. She’d have asked her brother to cover for her rather than refusing the invitation because she was on call.
She didn’t have any firm plans for this weekend at all, which was why she was heading back to the office. Even when Whitmore Family Practice closed early, as it did every Friday afternoon, Sierra could always find some paperwork.
She spotted a flyer advertising next weekend’s Indigo Springs Arts and Music Festival alongside a splashy modern painting in the window of an art studio. The other tourist-themed businesses on the pretty, hilly street—restaurants, bike and ski shops, souvenir stores—sported similar notices. She was wondering why a banner promoting the event hadn’t been strung over Main Street, when she saw the man.
He wore dark shades even though the sun wasn’t particularly bright. In a short-sleeved black polo shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders, he was seemingly oblivious to the slight chill typical of the latter part of April. The section of sidewalk where he stood with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans was shaded by a red maple tree, its vibrant leaves forming a backdrop that caused him to appear ridiculously masculine. The smell of flowers in bloom wafted on a breeze, a further contradiction.
She snuck a glance at him as she approached, appreciating the sensuous line of his mouth, the wave in his thick dark hair and his solid build. He looked to have three days’ growth of beard, which somehow made him seem more sexy. So did his height. She judged him to be at least six feet two, maybe even six-three.
“Excuse me.” The timbre of his voice, soft and deep and without an accent she could detect, reached out to her. “Sorry to bother you, but can you recommend a place to stay?”
That meant he was a visitor, unsurprising in a place marketed as a year-round tourist destination. Besides, if this man lived in Indigo Springs, she would have noticed him before now.
“Try the Blue Stream Bed-and-Breakfast. It’s up the street a few blocks.” She pointed to indicate the direction. “If that’s full, I’d give the Indigo Inn a shot. It’s back the other way.”
“Have you stayed at either of those places?” he asked.
“No, I haven’t. Some locals book a room at the B and B just to sample the blueberry scones the owner serves for breakfast, but so far I’ve resisted.”
“So you live here in Indigo Springs?”
She wished he wasn’t wearing those shades so she could see whether the color of his eyes complemented his long, straight nose and strong jawline, which was partially obscured by dark stubble. “I do.”
“Can you steer me toward me a good place for dinner tonight?”
“Can I ever.” She gestured across the street to a Thai restaurant with a bright red door. “That place has the best pad thai I’ve ever had. It’s so good I could eat it every day of the week.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Then how about having pad thai tonight? With me.”
The breeze cooled the interior of Sierra’s mouth, alerting her that it must have dropped open. “You want me to have dinner with you?” she repeated, just in case she’d misunderstood.
“Sure. Why not? You could save me from eating alone.”
A thrill traveled through Sierra before reason took over. “Thank you, but I can’t.”
“Are you married?” he asked.
“Well, no.”
“Engaged?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “In a relationship? Wary of strange men who approach you on the street?”
She laughed. “No to the first two questions. Yes to the third.”
“Not much I can do about that.” He gave a small shrug, emphasizing the play of muscles in his shoulders. “Thanks for the recommendations.”
He started walking in the direction of the B and B, leaving Sierra exactly where she’d been before the unforeseen encounter: chiding herself for allowing her life to turn stale.
So what had she done the first time she got the opportunity to do the unexpected?
She’d let her unexpected opportunity get away.
“Wait!” She followed up on her cry by pursuing the stranger. He turned, those eyes still covered by shades, the quirk of his sensuous mouth the only thing betraying his curiosity.
“Are you married?” she asked.
“Never been.” He lifted a left hand bare of rings. The base of his hand was broad, his fingers long, his knuckles lightly dusted with hair.
Lots of married men didn’t wear the evidence, yet she could tell instinctively that he really was single. Chad, with his roots in Indigo Springs and stable job, was the type of guy you could settle down with. Her father had told her that all the time. He’d warn her against this man. Because this man was the kind you took to bed. She fought not to blush at the thought and asked, “What’s your name?”
“Ben Nash.”
It suited him, strong and to the point, like the man himself.
“Mine’s Sierra.” She started to add the Whitmore surname, then caught sight of the sign above the doctor’s office. Sierra had worked hard to get where she was, but she longed for this man to treat her like a woman, not a physician. He had no notion she’d developed into the biggest bore who’d ever lived.
“Hello, Sierra.” He stuck out one of his strong hands, which immediately engulfed hers in warmth, sending a shivery sensation through her. “I guess this means we’re not strangers anymore.”
That had been her intention. She was through standing back and letting life pass her by. Earlier today she’d wondered how to dig herself out of her rut.
Now she knew.
“I can’t make it for dinner.” She tried lowering her voice to a flirtatious murmur. “Would you like to meet for drinks instead?”
SIERRA SMOOTHED her hands over the tight jeans that hugged her body like denim Saran Wrap, glimpsed down at the deep, daring vee of her clinging black top and fought the impulse to sprint to her bedroom closet.
She didn’t think she moved, but her spike heels were so high she wobbled a little anyway.
The outfit was hers, but she’d only worn the shirt before and always under a sweater. With her straight brown hair taking a free fall down her back, she felt like a stranger.
“Who do I think I’m fooling?” Sierra muttered. Ben Nash had seen how conservatively she was dressed when they met that afternoon. He wouldn’t fall for her seductress act tonight.
If, that is, she managed to keep the date.
She shook off the thought. Of course she intended to meet him. A quick glance at the alarm clock on her bedside table showed she still had twenty minutes until they were scheduled to get together. If she was quick about changing her clothes, she’d barely be late.
She sat down on her bed, crossed one leg over the other and started to pull off her shoe. A rapping sound stopped her.
She went still, listening intently. The tapping stopped, then started again, sounding exactly like a knock. She rolled her eyes. Of course it was a knock. That was how visitors announced their presence in the absence of a doorbell, which the downtown town house she’d moved into last week didn’t have.
She crossed the hardwood of her second-floor bedroom, which still smelled of the polish she’d used to bring out its shine, hoping her heels didn’t damage the floor. She peeked out the window that faced Main Street. Annie Sublinski Whitmore stood on the doorstep, wearing jeans that fit much looser than Sierra’s, a green Indigo River Rafters windbreaker and tennis shoes. Her pickup truck was parked at the curb.
Regretting that she hadn’t had time to change her clothes, Sierra headed for the stairs. She gripped the banister to keep from counterbalancing in the unfamiliar heels, made it to the foyer and let Annie into the town house.
“Hope you don’t mind me stopping by like…” Annie’s voice abruptly lost steam, and her easy-to-read eyes widened. “Wow!”
Sierra grimaced and crossed her arms over her midsection. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”
“Too much for what?” Annie asked, pulling the door shut behind her.
Sierra hesitated. Annie had become her sister-in-law a few months ago when she’d married Sierra’s brother Ryan. The two women had attended high school together once upon a time but they were still working on becoming friends. “I’m meeting someone for drinks.”
“Great!” Annie patted the stray hairs the wind had blown loose from her blond ponytail back into place. Her face, devoid of makeup, glowed with natural color from the sun and the wind. “Anyone I know?”
“No.”
Annie waited a beat, but Sierra couldn’t very well tell her sister-in-law she was screwing up the courage to lose her inhibitions with a sexy stranger.
“I’m glad you’re dating again.” Annie had a sincerity about her that made everything she said appear genuine. “Really glad.”
“Thank you.” Sierra’s response sounded wooden when she’d meant to communicate how touched she was by Annie’s enthusiasm. Suppressing a sigh of frustration, she gestured toward the kitchen at the back of the town house. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Oh, no,” Annie said. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping you, and I’m itching to get home to Ryan anyway.”
Annie was referring to Sierra’s childhood home, a large Colonial in the residential area immediately adjacent to downtown Indigo Springs. Sierra had lived in the house as an adult, too, until deciding the newlyweds should have it to themselves. Annie and Ryan wouldn’t be alone for long. At the end of the school year, the daughter they’d given up for adoption when they were teenagers and reconnected with last summer was moving in with them permanently.
“Ryan played pick-up basketball tonight, so I had dinner with my dad after I got off the river.” Annie ran a tourist-themed business with her father that offered whitewater trips and mountain bike rentals. “He texted a little while ago that he has a glass of red wine waiting for me.”
“Sounds like you deserve to relax.” Sierra shifted from high heel to high heel. She was already taller than average. In the shoes, she towered over Annie. “Ryan says you’ve been working a lot lately.”
“Spring’s our busiest season, especially when we get a lot of rain. The rafting’s terrific when the river’s high. We’re booking so many trips I won’t have time for anything but work the next couple weeks.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Good for business. Not so good for the festival, which brings me to the reason I stopped by.” Annie’s long pause was uncharacteristic. “I was hoping you’d fill in for me on the planning committee.”
“Me?” Sierra resisted the urge to take a giant step backward, away from the request.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, with Chad being a member.” Annie made a face. “I thought you might be uncomfortable around him, but Ryan says you’re made of tougher stuff than that.”
Her brother didn’t know her nearly as well as he thought he did.
Sierra pressed her lips together, so she wouldn’t give in to the temptation to refuse outright, and composed an answer. “Do I have to let you know right now?”
“Oh, no.” Annie shook her head. “Take a day to think about it. There’s a meeting Sunday afternoon and then things’ll get pretty busy, especially come festival weekend.”
Sierra nodded, hating herself for letting the thought of dealing with her ex-boyfriend stop her from agreeing to help the community. At this rate, Annie would have a hard time warming up to her.
“You’d be a great help to the committee, not to mention you’d be doing me a huge favor,” Annie said. “And who knows? After tonight, being on the committee might not seem like such a big deal.”
Sierra cocked her head. “What do you mean by after tonight?”
“You’re dating again, right?” Annie grinned at her, then let herself out of the town house. Before she pulled the door shut, she stuck her head around the frame.
“One more thing,” she said, eyes sparkling. “If you’re looking to impress that guy you’re meeting, don’t you dare change out of those clothes.”
