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“But you don’t know.”
She bit her lip. What could she say? “When you come right down to it, I don’t really know him all that well,” she admitted. There was no use trying to maintain the fiction that they had ever been married. It was too late for that.
“I’ve worked for him a few times. He found out I grew up here, so when he decided to come check it out, he asked if I wanted to come and pretend to be his wife.”
She looked up into his eyes, hoping she was coming across as undeniably innocent—because that was what she was. Wasn’t she? Sure she was. She was using Carl, but he was using her. They both knew the score. It was basically an arrangement of convenience for both of them.
“I thought it would be fun, so I agreed to come with him.” She shrugged. “Other than that...”
A call came from the fire-pit area. It sounded as though the others were preparing to go to their rooms for the night. Torie’s heart fell. She wouldn’t have time to go to the old house and do the investigating she’d planned to do. Even if she could lose Marc, it was just too late. The others would be looking for her.
She gazed up at his face, surprised at how he seemed to get better-looking by the hour. Was it really him? Or was it her?
“I’d better get back,” she said.
He nodded, but as she began to turn away, he caught hold of her arm and pulled her around to face him.
“Promise me one thing,” he said huskily, his gaze hooded. “Keep your door locked tonight.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean...?”
His grip on her arm tightened. “I mean keep your door locked. I don’t trust Carl.”
“Oh no. He would never...”
Something flickered in his eyes. “He’s a man, isn’t he? And you’re a very attractive woman. I don’t trust him. Lock that door.”
She took a deep breath. For some reason, her heart was beating wildly. She didn’t think of herself that way, and she didn’t really believe he meant what he said about her. But still...
“Okay.”
“I’m going to check it. I’ll give you a knock like this...” He demonstrated against a handy tree trunk. “So you’ll know it’s me. Just checking.”
She searched his eyes and shook her head. “Why are you doing this?”
He thought for a minute, his brow furrowed, and then he shook his head too. “You got me,” he said. “I guess it’s for old time’s sake. After all, you’re sort of like a baby sister to me. Aren’t you?”
She laughed shortly. “No,” she said emphatically.
He shrugged and his hand loosened on her arm. “Okay. I guess I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
She nodded. “Fine. I can accept that.”
“Good.”
He looked down and for one, heart-stopping moment, she was sure he was about to kiss her. Marc Huntington was going to kiss her. How many times had she dreamed of this moment? She waited, ready, lips slightly parted, heart beating like a jungle drum. He stared down at her for a long moment, and then something changed in his eyes and he turned away.
“Good night, Victoria Sands,” he said gruffly. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”
And he melted into the shadows of the trees.
Her breath was coming fast, as though she’d just been running hard, and her face was burning. She felt like a fool. When would she ever learn? Marc Huntington was not for her. Never would be.
* * *
Back at the house, she managed to evade Carl as she passed the fire pit and made it all the way to her bedroom before he caught up with her.
“Hold it,” he said, thrusting his shoulder in the way of her closing the door. “We’ve gotta talk.”
“Carl, it’s been a long day. I need to get some sleep.”
“You can sleep all you want, but I need some help first. I need you to update the map.”
She sighed. The map she’d drawn of the Shangri-La estate was rough at best. She’d done it from memory and given it to him back when they were first planning this little adventure. In some ways it had been a labor of love and she’d enjoyed dredging up all her old stories as she worked on it.
“What’s missing?” she asked.
“The caves.” He pulled a folded paper out of his jacket and looked at her quizzically, his gaze cold. “I’m just wondering. Why did you leave out the caves?”
That was a good question and she wasn’t really sure what the answer was.
“Listen Carl, just leave the map with me and I’ll get them sketched in by lunch tomorrow.”
“No,” he said, a hint of anger beginning to surface in his voice. “I need it tonight. I need...”
“Is there a problem?”
They both jumped and turned to find Marc coming down the hall toward them.
“Something I can do to help?” he asked silkily, staring at Carl.
Carl grabbed his map back and shoved it into his jacket, shaking his head and looking resentful. “No. It’s nothing.” He began to retreat toward his own room. “Okay, Torie. We’ll deal with it in the morning. See you then.”
She looked at Marc and he raised an eyebrow. “I know,” she told him. He didn’t have to say it. “Lock my door. Don’t worry. I will.”
And he was right, she mused as she prepared for bed. Carl had seemed so harmless when she’d agreed to come on this trip, but he’d changed. There was an intensity in Carl she’d never noticed before. She wasn’t sure if she could say that she trusted him any longer.
She knew Marc didn’t. But then, he didn’t trust her either, did he?
Later, as she drifted into sleep, she thought she heard shouting. She sat up and tried to analyze what it was, but the sounds had faded by the time she was awake enough. Maybe she’d dreamed it. She lay back down but what little sleep she got after that was fitful. It was hard to let go when she knew that she was planning to get up and go exploring in a couple of hours anyway.
* * *
Plans that looked easy to execute from a distance always looked so impossible once you got face to face with the time to act. It was 1:00 a.m. and Torie’s eyes were wide open, waiting for her little buzzer alarm on her cell phone to sound.
She felt as if she hadn’t slept a wink. A part of her tried to justify just rolling over and going back to sleep, but she’d come all this way and she knew she couldn’t miss this chance.
Her heart was beating in her throat. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to start sneaking around, looking for information? Maybe it would be better to wait until morning when the light would be better and she could just be casual and find people to ask questions of.
“Coward!”
She said the word aloud, goading herself into action as the buzzer sounded and she reached out to stop it. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass without taking advantage of it.
“Carpe diem,” she added firmly, just for fun. Yes, she would seize the day. What else had she come for, anyway?
CHAPTER FIVE (#uce04502b-fed4-565b-a065-cf556c391e3e)
TORIE slipped out of bed and reached for her clothes, pulling on leggings and a heavy sweatshirt that came down almost to her knees. She tied her hair back quickly and went to the doorway, opening it as quietly as she could. This was an old house. Just how badly were the stairs going to creak? She stayed as close to the banister as she could get and hardly made a sound.
The rooms downstairs were silent. She hesitated at the door, waiting for something to stop her, but nothing moved. Once out the door, she was free.
Now she was on a path she knew well. She didn’t even have to think about it. Her feet knew where to step. She’d taken this route so many times in her childhood.
The night was clear and even though there was no moon visible, there was enough light to see where she was headed. The sounds of the frogs and crickets, the scent of the ocean, the breeze on her face—it all was so familiar, she found herself smiling as she hurried toward her old house as though she was truly going home. She rounded a corner and ducked back off the path as the flash of headlights from a passing car hit close to her. Who in the world was driving around at this time of night? From the snatch of laughter she heard, she could make a guess. Marge and Jimmy had been out and about.
She turned back and looked at her goal. Almost there. She stopped behind a small stand of palms to get the lay of the land, and she stood very still, shivering. Was it the cool air or a nervous reaction? For a moment, she thought about Marc and wondered what he was doing right now. Was he asleep? She certainly hoped so.
Finally she was on the front porch, the one she’d run onto as a girl, calling out, “Hey, Mom, what’s for lunch?” as she threw down the latest shells she’d collected at the beach, or the prettiest rocks she’d found in the hills. The flame of nostalgia made her ache inside, but it was a good ache. Those were good days.
She tried the front door. It was locked. That was hardly surprising. Never mind. She knew other ways to get in. She made her way to the back of the house and found the window to her old room. It looked firmly closed and solid as a rock, but she knew that a little push here and a jiggle there and a shove in the right direction would loosen the sash and the window would slide up easily. She hadn’t forgotten how to climb through, and in another minute, she was in her old room.
Pulling out her little flashlight, she played it against the empty walls. It was amazing, but no one had painted the rooms since her family had left. There was her growth chart by the door, milestones marked off in pencil. And there was the splotch of purple color where she’d thrown a paintbrush at the wall in a fit of anger. She stood and stared, breathless. Here it was, evidence that she really had lived here. For some reason, that choked her throat and filled her eyes with tears.
She went out into the hall and then the family room. The scrapings where chairs had brushed the walls, the mark on the door where her old dog Nanny had scratched to go out a few too many times, the old bulletin board where her mother had put up bits and pieces of her schoolwork or articles that interested her—all were still there. Had she stepped back in time?
The kitchen tore apart that theory. There was ample evidence that people had lived here since her day. The refrigerator was not the one she knew. The cabinets had been painted white and a relatively new-looking microwave sat on the counter.
That set her head back on straight. This wasn’t her house. But she did have things she needed to do here.
The attic. That had been her goal from the beginning and she made her way through the living room to the hallway where the little structure that held the attic ladder hung from the ceiling. And how, without a stepladder or a piece of furniture, was she supposed to reach it to pull it down?
Her heart sank and she looked down the hallway and around the room. The heating register stood out against the wall, and there, leaning against it, was a long handled iron key for working the temperature controls. Could it possibly be long enough?
It was. She bit her lip as she worked hard to release the little rickety ladder, and her work paid off. It unfolded before her eyes, giving her access to the attic door. She climbed up quickly and tried to shove the door open. It didn’t budge. She pushed and pulled and tried to pry it open, but nothing seemed to work.
And then she heard footsteps...a man’s footsteps. She doused her little flashlight and pulled her legs up into the enclosure, heart racing. Anyone who came into the hallway would notice the ladder was down. But would they look up and see her perched there?
The footsteps came into the hallway. She tried to hold her breath, but she was already short of oxygen and rapidly falling into panic mode. Luckily, he just didn’t stop walking, moving back and forth, just out of sight, making too much noise to hear her and her problems. The beam from his flashlight skittered around the walls, but didn’t aim her way. She caught
a glimpse of a shoulder in a black pea coat at one point, but she couldn’t see enough to identify the man. All he had to do was glance up and she would be caught.
Suddenly, he stopped moving. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. Had he seen her?
No. He switched off his flashlight. He’d heard something, or had a sudden idea, because he turned and began to stride quickly toward the door. Now she was afraid he would get away before she could see who he was, and she slid down the ladder and sneaked silently toward the front room.
He was headed down the driveway toward the highway. She slipped out into the night and tried to stay hidden in the trees, following him the best she could. Was it Marc? Or Carl? She still couldn’t tell.
So when the strong arms grabbed her from behind, she was completely unprepared and let out a shriek before the hand slapped down hard over her mouth.
“Hush,” Marc growled in her ear. “It’s me.”
Her heart stopped and then started up again. She sighed, relaxing in his arms. It was just Marc. Everything was okay.
She tried to rouse her own sense of jeopardy. After all, what made her think Marc was a good guy? Still, his arms felt right around her and she turned her head to feel the heat of his face against her cool cheek as though she’d been waiting for just that.
“Torie, I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her huskily, and she nodded.
“I know,” she whispered back, even though she really had no reason to know that at all. She couldn’t stop shivering and he held her more tightly against his body as though to calm her.
For just a moment, he indulged himself and turned his face into her hair. She smelled good and she felt even better. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to hold her and run his hands up under her sweatshirt and...
But he wasn’t going to. Too tempting. Too stupid. Too dangerous. And most of all, a big distraction from what he had to do.
Instead, he slowly released her and she turned to face him.
“Hi,” she said, peering at him in the dark. The features of his face looked as though they’d been cut from stone. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, I guess,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.
She frowned. “Who was that man?” she asked him. “I couldn’t get a good look at him.”
His mouth twisted. “Don’t you know?”
“No! Was it Carl?”
“Weren’t you meeting him out here?”
“Marc!” She threw up her hands in exasperation. “No, I wasn’t meeting him. I wasn’t meeting anyone. I’m actually surprised to find so many people out wandering around in the middle of the night.” She glanced suspiciously into the trees. “I wonder who else is out there.”
Marc glanced in the same direction. “There’s no telling, but I wouldn’t be too surprised to find a Texan, doing placer samplings here and there.”
She smirked at him with impetuous impertinence. “Are you watching him, too?”
He surprised her with a sudden grin. “No. The man’s an open book. I don’t have to.”
“Unlike me and Carl,” she said, eyes flashing a sense of barely concealed resentment.
He didn’t bother confirming her accusation, but it was more than true. He’d been following Carl when he’d come across Torie doing the same and he had to make the call—the lady or the tiger? He could only choose one. He’d gone with the one he would rather be with, and that had probably been a mistake.
See? Too tempting. Too dangerous.
Still, he might be able to get information out of her he would never get out of Carl. From what he could tell, there was little rhyme or reason for the way Carl was zigzagging all over the estate, looking for who-knew-what. What he couldn’t figure out was—why was Torie tailing the guy as well?
“Just what is Carl looking for?” he asked her again.
She shrugged. “You got me.”
He frowned. “You’re the one who brought him here.”
