No Risk Refused Read online

  “I think it’s odd that you only found one earring.”

  “Okay. So we need to check it out. But this time we take turns. I’ll go first and try to loosen the stone you were working on. Once I have it out, you can work on the next one.”

  Cam had to smile as he edged even farther away and gestured her toward the small hole. “This is only a temporary solution to our problem.”

  She shot him a look over her shoulder. “I know. But I need to think about it.”

  “Go ahead.” He knew the value of analyzing data. He just wasn’t sure how much time either of them had for that.

  Adair reached in and slid her fingers around the edge of the rock. Then she began to wiggle it back and forth. “It’s coming. Slowly.” She had to use both hands to pull it through the opening. Then she moved carefully out of his way. “Your turn.”

  The instant Cam reached in, his fingers brushed against something with more defined edges than a rock. Dipping one of his shoulders, he leaned closer to the opening so that he could get a better grip. Carefully, he slipped his fingers over the top and finessed his thumb beneath it. Then he tugged.

  “You’ve got something,” Adair said.

  “A box, I think. But it’s snugged in pretty tight.” His fingers slid off, but not before he felt it give a little. He tried again, and this time it moved a couple of inches.

  “It’s coming.” The next sixty seconds seemed to go by in slow motion, but inch by inch he tugged and pulled the box closer and closer until he could get a good enough grip to drag it all the way out.

  Once he set it on the ground between his knees and hers, Adair could do nothing but gape at it. She was looking at the box she and her sisters had buried seven years ago.

  Cam fingered the tiny padlock. “Shall I do the honors?”

  “No.” Snatching it up, she clutched it to her chest, out of harm’s way.

  “That lock is pretty flimsy, but if you’d rather, I have a set of lock picks in my room.”

  “No. You can’t open it. Eleanor’s jewels aren’t in here.”

  Cam studied her for a moment. “And you know this because?”

  Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “Because my sisters and I buried this box on the night our parents were married. What’s in here is very private.”

  “Really?” Cam looked at the metal box.

  Adair frowned at the intrigued look on his face.

  “How in the world did you get it in there without coming across the pouch with the earring?” he asked.

  “We didn’t bury it on this side. We loosened some stones on the inside of the arch.”

  “And you’re not going to let me see what’s inside?”

  Adair narrowed her eyes. “What don’t you understand about the word private?”

  Cam held his hands up, palms outward. Adair was about to say more when they heard a car on the graveled drive.

  Adair shot to her feet. “That’s my one o’clock appointment.” She looked down at her dirty knees and scowled. She didn’t even want to think about what her hair might look like. No time for a shower. But she could at least tidy up.

  Amused, Cam watched her bolt into the garden and race for the back door of the castle with a death grip on the mysterious metal box. Not that it was any of his business.

  But secrets had always intrigued him.

  Whatever they were, they’d caused a very pretty blush to spread up her neck and across her face as she’d warned him off. Discovering people’s secrets was one thing he was very good at, and working in the CIA had honed that particular skill. One way or another, he was going to find out what was in that box.

  But there was other business he needed to take care of. Taking out his cell, he punched a number he always kept on speed dial.

  Daryl’s voice mail picked up. That meant that he must be totally engrossed in his investigation. Cam passed on what Adair had told him about the Banes/Maitland wedding being connected to come kind of business merger. And he wished he didn’t have a gut-deep feeling that the bride might not be getting her happy-ever-after on Saturday.

  * * *

  TEN MINUTES LATER, Cam found Viola MacPherson exactly where he’d expected to find her—in the kitchen. And she was frosting a delicious looking cake. For a moment as he stood in the doorway, he was transported back in time to his tenth summer. Except for her gray hair, Viola looked the same.

  The dog was new. The medium-sized mixed breed was out for the count in a rectangle of sunshine not far from Vi’s feet. The security system they had was pretty good, and he trusted that Vi and Adair were religious about securing the castle at night. And the dog provided added protection. But like most people, when they were home during the day they left doors such as the one he currently stood in open.

  “I don’t suppose I could talk you out of a piece of that cake,” he said.

  She whirled, set down her knife and beamed a smile at him. “Cam.”

  The dog raised its head, jingling the bell around its neck, and rose to its feet. Vi signaled the dog to sit as she moved to wrap her arms around Cam. The gesture tightened something around his heart.

  “You seem taller since the wedding,” she said as she stepped back.

  “You’re not.” He glanced over her head at the cake.

  “Don’t even think about it. That’s the groom’s cake for the wedding on Saturday. The whole affair is dicey enough without the cake disappearing. Sit. I’ll pour you some iced tea, and I have fresh scones.”

  Grinning at Vi, he sank into the chair she’d pointed at. “The MOB ran me off the road just before I got to the twin pines.”

  Vi ran a quick look over him. “You look okay. The car?”

  “Not a scratch. I talked to your gardener, and he said he’d tow it out and have the young guy working for him drive it up here.”

  “Wes is a good man.” She poured two glasses of iced tea, piled scones on a plate, then carried everything to the table and sat down.

  “When I spoke with Sheriff Skinner, he suggested I tell your gardener about the discovery of the earring. The news is bound to leak out—it may have already.” He told Vi about the stranger who’d visited the library. “On the days he’s up here working, Wes can be on the lookout for trespassers.”

  Vi nodded. “Are you expecting trouble?”

  “After two hundred years, part of Eleanor’s dowry has shown up. A lot of people are going to assume that the rest of it is around somewhere. I told A.D. and my mom I’d make sure you and Adair would be safe here.” Cam took a sip of the tea and reached for a scone. When the dog moved to his side and plopped her head on his knees, Cam broke off a piece and passed it on.

  “I can put her out on her leash,” Vi said.

  “She’s fine,” Cam said. “How long have you had her?”

  “Six months. I went to the animal shelter to find a good watchdog, and the moment I saw Alba I had to bring her home. She’s deaf. But even though she may not hear in the same way you and I do, she senses things.”

  “What made you want a watchdog?” Cam asked.

  “A feeling more than anything. I started waking up in the middle of the night. I never really heard anything, but now Alba wakes me up with her barking. I still never hear anything else—even after I settle her down. But I feel safer.”

  “What about Adair? Has she ever heard anything?”

  “No.”

  “No signs of intruders or a break-in?” Cam asked.

  “No. And I’ve looked. Nothing is missing.” Vi tapped the side of her head. “You’re going to tell me it’s all up here.”

  “Not at all.” He also didn’t intend to tell her how easy it might be for a professional to get past their security system. But usually a break-in was a onetime thing. This had been going on for some six months—long before the earring had been discovered.

  Cam slipped another bite of scone to the dog and turned to his original purpose for seeking out Vi. “Adair’s worried about this wedding on Saturday,
and you said earlier it was dicey enough.”

  By the time he was biting into his third scone, not counting the one he’d shared with Alba, he had Vi’s version of the story. “So in a nutshell, what you’ve got is a bride who wants a guarantee for a happy-ever-after because she didn’t get that the first time around. You’ve got an MOB pressuring you and Adair to make sure everything runs smoothly on Saturday. A business deal hangs in the balance, and the bride-to-be might be still in love with her first husband.”

  Vi nodded.

  “How does Adair feel about all of this?” Cam asked.

  Vi sighed. “She’s torn. She wants our wedding business to succeed more than anything since that horrible fiasco in Chicago.”

  Cam frowned. “What fiasco?”

  “She was working with a young man who charmed her into believing that the two of them could make an unbeatable team both inside and outside of the office.” Vi used her fingers to put “unbeatable team” in quotes. “Then he passed her projects on to upper management as his own. Long story short, he’s still working there and she isn’t. And he dumped her on the day she got her pink slip.”

  “Bastard.” The anger Cam felt didn’t surprise him. What did was the bitter coppery taste in his mouth. Jealousy?

  “Adair has always succeeded at everything she’s set her mind to. She believes that if she pulls this wedding off on Saturday, the future of Castle MacPherson as a wedding destination spot will be assured. If not…”

  It was Cam’s turn to frown. “If not, she’ll find another way to accomplish her goal.”

  Vi smiled at him. “Of course she will. You know that and I know that. But she has to rediscover that about herself.”

  Cam didn’t like the fact that he might play a role in ruining the wedding. If Banes turned out to be Scalzo… For now he decided to put it out of his mind and pursue another question that was lingering there. “Adair was showing me where Alba discovered the earring, and we came across a metal box with a little padlock. She wouldn’t let me see the contents.”

  Vi laughed. “Of course she wouldn’t. She and her sisters used to write down their secret dreams and aspirations and put them in that box from the time they were little kids. When they were teens they came up with the idea of burying it behind some loose stones in the arch as a way to make them all come true.”

  Interesting, Cam thought. But it wasn’t a childhood dream that had made Adair blush and become so territorial about the box.

  And solving the mystery of what was inside the metal box was not why he was here at the castle either. “Do me a favor, Vi?”

  “I have no idea what’s in that box.”

  He smiled. “I want to know where your bedroom is with regard to the rest of the house.”

  At the question in her eyes, he continued, “I’m wondering if there might be a reason why you and Alba are having your sleep disturbed and Adair isn’t.”

  “I’ll do better than tell you,” Vi said. “Let me show you.”

  7

  “THANK YOU SO much. My fiancée will have to approve, of course, but I’m enchanted with this place.”

  Smiling, Adair shook the hand Nathan offered. She liked him. He wasn’t a handsome man, but he had intelligent eyes and a blustery, enthusiastic energy that she found engaging. She guessed he was in his mid-forties. His waistline had begun to spread a bit and gray had begun to dull both his mustache and beard as well as his nearly shoulder-length red hair. This was his first marriage and he wanted to do it up right.

  “I’ll look forward to hearing from you,” she said.

  He patted the professional-looking camera that hung at his side. “You will. These pictures are going to sell the place to my sweetheart.”

  Adair certainly hoped so. The man had taken enough of them. She watched him walk to his car, and when he reached it and turned back to her she gave him a final wave.

  She’d shown him the gardens, the ballroom, and at his request she’d even taken him into the parlor to view Eleanor Campbell MacPherson’s portrait. Nathan had mentioned he remembered reading about Eleanor’s missing jewels in the Times a while back.

  Even though they were not offering the use of the main parlor in any of the wedding packages, Adair supposed she might as well put it on the regular tour from now on. If the word got out that one of Eleanor’s earrings had shown up, she figured more than one potential client was going to ask to see the portrait.

  She thought the appointment had gone well, considering that more than once she’d felt her mind wandering. Back to that metal box and the fantasies she and her sisters had buried in it all those years ago.

  And back to Cam Sutherland and that kiss they’d exchanged.

  As the last little whirlwind of dust settled from Nathan MacDonald’s parting car, Adair turned and walked back to her office. She was going to have to figure out what to do about Cam. And herself.

  Closing the door behind her, she strode to her desk, sank into her chair and stared at the small metal box. She was responsible for this. It had been her idea to write out the fantasies and bury them in the stones. And she wasn’t going to blame the champagne. Earlier that day when she’d met Cam’s eyes beneath the stone arch, her heart had raced, her breath had stopped and her whole world had tilted.

  So for the first time in her life, she’d done something rash. And now it was coming back to haunt her.

  Big time.

  She could be the poster girl for the “Be careful what you wish for” warning. What was worse is that she wanted that wish to come true.

  She pressed her fingers against her lips and found them warm. Now that she’d seen him again, lain beneath him and kissed him until her brains had practically leaked out of her ears, she didn’t want the fantasy anymore. She wanted the reality.

  The problem was she did not have time to indulge in the reality of having an erotic adventure with Cam Sutherland right now. There were so many things she had to check on to ensure the success of Rexie Maitland’s wedding. Pulling a pad of paper closer, she began to jot down notes. Aunt Vi was handling the cakes and overseeing the catering service. The firm she’d hired would arrive early Saturday morning to set up the tables in the ballroom. Cocktails and champagne would be served on the terrace overlooking the lake.

  When Adair realized that her eyes had shifted to the box, she focused on her list again and wrote at the top: (1) Check in with the florist. (2) Call Rexie.

  Tonight maybe. She’d sleep better if she knew that the young bride-to-be’s nerves had definitely settled.

  (3) Call first husband Dr. Barry Carlson.

  Adair dropped her pen and stared at what she’d written. Call Barry Carlson? Why was she even thinking of doing that? Hadn’t she decided Rexie’s first marriage wasn’t any of her business? Then she thought of her conversation with Rexie that morning and the look in the young woman’s eyes when she’d said, “He refused to talk to me.” Hurt that Rexie hadn’t recovered from yet.

  Dammit. She fisted her hands on her desk. It wouldn’t hurt to look up the phone number. Rexie had mentioned that Barry’s parents had horses. Lifting her notebook computer out of the top drawer, she booted it up and searched for the Carlson Horse Ranch in Montana. A few clicks got her to the web page.

  And there he was—Dr. Barry Carlson. To her surprise, he looked vaguely familiar. She thought of those moments where she’d been sitting in front of the arch, using her visualization technique to picture Rexie kissing Lawrence Banes. But the man her imagination had summoned up had looked a lot more like Barry than Banes.

  No, that couldn’t be. She’d never met Barry Carlson. Her mind was just playing tricks on her. When she caught herself jotting down the phone number of the horse farm, she dropped the pencil and stared at her hands. They were playing tricks on her, too.

  And it was all because she was trying so hard not to think of that box and Cam Sutherland. So much for avoidance.

  Thoroughly annoyed, she pulled it toward her. Cam had been right about
the lock not providing a challenge. Over the years the flimsy thing had rusted enough that she was able to pull it away with one jerk.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the lid. And there they were—the three compartments with folded sheets of different-colored paper in each one. It had been Nell’s idea that they use different-colored paper for privacy. She’d chosen yellow. That night she’d written on a legal pad and the sheets lay there right on the top of her section.

  Unable to resist, she took her fantasy out and shoved aside her day planner and To Do list. Then she unfolded the pages and spread them over the surface of her desk. There was always the chance that she’d find her adolescent fantasy amusing or even laughable. Perhaps just reading it would put it in perspective and she could get her focus back.

  But her lips didn’t so much as curve as she read the words she’d written so long ago. She barely recognized her own handwriting. She’d written at such a rate of speed, wanting to keep up with the images that had flooded her mind. They were as compelling now as they’d been seven years ago. And they were even more erotic.

  Being swept away by a stranger had been a fantasy of women for years. And she’d learned in a female studies class she’d taken freshman year that the fantasy was grounded in what had been the reality of many women’s lives for thousands of years.

  But the fact that it had been her fantasy that long-ago night—the fact that it was that particular fantasy that had gripped her imagination and flowed out of her pen had shocked her then.

  It shocked her right now.

  The pages she’d written that night were all about being transported by a man and by the danger of the adventure. As she skimmed the words, she could see that she’d incorporated elements of Romancing the Stone and Indiana Jones, and even the first Jason Bourne movie.

  The most exciting thing she could think of that night was being swept up in a life-threatening adventure with a man. The sex had to be hotter when it was layered with fear and the adrenaline of the chase. It had always seemed to be that way in the movies.