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“Whatcha making?”
Jennifer’s voice interrupted and for once Maggie was glad of it. She’d already spent too long thinking about her latest lodger.
“Pasta e fagioli and foccacia bread.”
“Excellent.” Jen grabbed a cookie from a beige pottery jar and leaned against the counter, munching.
Maggie watched her. There were some days she really missed the preteen years. Parenting had been so much simpler then. Yet hard as it was, she hated to see Jen leave again.
“Day after tomorrow, huh. Did you book your bus ticket?”
“I booked it return when I came, remember?” She reached in the jar for another cookie.
“You’ll spoil your supper,” Maggie warned.
Jen simply raised an eyebrow as if to say, I’m not twelve, Mother.
“You should be glad I’m leaving. That leaves you alone with Detective Hottie.”
Maggie glared.
“Oh, come on, Mom. He’s a little old for me, even if he is a fine specimen. But he’s just about right for you.”
Maggie put the spoon down with more force than she intended. “First of all, keep your voice down. He is a paying guest in this house.” She ignored the flutter that skittered through her at Jen’s attempt at matchmaking. “He wouldn’t be here at all if you’d asked first and booked later.”
Jennifer stopped munching. “You’re still mad about that, huh.”
Maggie sighed, forgetting all about his footsteps. It wasn’t all Jen’s fault. She did her own share of picking fights. She should be trying to keep Jen close, not pushing her away.
“I just wish…I wish you’d give some thought to things first, instead of racing headlong and then having to backtrack. You took the reservation without even consulting me.”
“I was trying to help. I told you I was sorry about it. And they did come through with the cash, so what’s the big deal?”
How could Maggie explain that the big deal was that she worried over Jen day and night? She hadn’t been blind the last few years. Jen had skated through without getting badly hurt. Yet. But she’d had her share of trouble and Maggie was terrified that one day she’d get a phone call that something truly awful had happened. She wished Jen took it as seriously as she did.
“Let’s not argue about it anymore, okay?” Arguing over the reservation was irrelevant now. Maggie had been irritated with Jennifer at the time for not taking a credit card number, but it had ceased to matter. The United States Marshals Service was picking up the tab. All of it. A day after Nate had reserved the room, someone from his office had called and made arrangements for payment, not even blinking when she’d told them the rate, or the cost of extras. And she’d charged them high season rates, just because she’d been so put out at having to put her travel plans on hold.
She pressed dough into two round pans, dimpling the tops with her fingers before putting them under a tea towel to rise. No matter how much she wished she were lying on a beach in Cancún right now, she still derived pleasure from doing what she did best. Cooking for one was a dull, lonely procedure and her spirits lightened as she added ingredients to the large stockpot on the stove. Jen had been home for the last week, but it wasn’t the same now that she was nearly adult and spreading her wings. Having guests meant having someone else to do for. It was why she’d chosen a bed and breakfast in the first place.
The footsteps halted above her, the house falling completely silent as their argument faltered.
“I didn’t mean to pick a fight with you.”
“Me, either.” Jen shuffled to the kitchen doorway and Maggie longed to mend fences, although she didn’t know how.
“Supper in an hour,” she called gently, but it went ignored.
Maggie reached across the counter to turn on the radio. She hummed quietly with a recent country hit as she turned her attention to pastry. Her foot tapped along with the beat until she slid everything into the oven, added tiny tubes of pasta to the pot, and cleaned up the cooking mess, the process of cooking and cleaning therapeutic.
At precisely six-twenty, he appeared at the kitchen door.
She turned with the bread pans in her hands, surprised to see him there. Again, she felt a warning thump at his presence. Why in the world was she reacting this way to a complete stranger? It was more than a simple admiration of his good looks. A sliver of danger snuck down her spine. She knew nothing about him. He looked like a normal, nice guy. But how would she know? She didn’t even know the reason why he was on a leave of absence. What could have happened to make him need to take extended time off? Suddenly all her misgivings, ones she rarely gave credence to, came bubbling up to the surface. Most of the time she was confident in her abilities to look after herself. Something about Nate Griffith challenged that. And very soon, it would just be the two of them in the house.
“Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, giving a start and putting the pans down on top of the stove. “No, not at all. You just surprised me.”
Maggie took a deep breath, keeping her back to him. “Dinner’s not quite ready. It won’t be long.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He took a few steps into the kitchen. It was her job to make him at ease and feel at home, so why on earth was she finding it so difficult? She forced a smile as she flipped the round loaves out of the pans and on to a cooling rack. “Jen should be down soon. Besides, it’s my job to look after you, remember?”
“Well, sure.” He leaned easily against the side of the refrigerator. “But I thought we were going to play it a little less formal.”
He had her there. She thought for a moment as she got the dishes out of the cupboard. He was only here for a few weeks. What harm could come of being friendly, after all? Her voices of doubt were just being silly; she was making something out of nothing. He’d be gone back to his job and the palm trees before she knew it.
“All right.” She held out bread plates and bowls. “Informal it is. We can use the kitchen or the dining room, whichever you prefer. If you could set the table with these, I’ll finish up here.”
He pushed himself upright with an elbow. “Absolutely.” He moved to take the dishes and their fingers brushed. Without thinking, her gaze darted up to his with alarm. For a second she held her breath. But then he turned away to the table as if nothing had connected.
Only she knew it had. And that was bad, bad news.
CHAPTER TWO
HE’D set the three places at one end of the table; one at the head and the other two flanking it. There was little chance of her getting away with sitting across from him. He’d be close. Too close. With his long legs, their knees might bump under the table. Her pulse fluttered at the thought and she frowned. It wasn’t like her to be so twitchy.
As she watched, he lit the thick candles at the center of the table with the butane lighter.
Maggie paused at the intimacy of the setting and shook it off again, putting the soup tureen on the table. It shouldn’t make her feel so threatened, but it did. Even with Jennifer here, a simple dinner had somehow transformed into something more. Maggie simply didn’t do relationships of any kind. Not even casual ones. It always ended badly with her being left to try to pick up the pieces. After the last time, with Tom, there hadn’t been many pieces left to pick up. She had to hold on to every single one. All that she had left was put into raising Jennifer and running her business. She didn’t know why he’d go to the bother of setting the atmosphere, and it unsettled her.
“Ms. Taylor?”
Maggie realized she’d been staring at the table. She laughed lightly. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
“I asked if you ran the Haven alone. I’m afraid I didn’t get many details when I booked.”
“I do, yes.” She brought the basket of bread to the table and invited him to sit with a hand. She was surprised when he waited until she was seated before seating himself. “Jennifer attends school in Edmonton, so she’s not around much anymore.”
“Which makes you sad.”
Maggie smiled, pleasantly surprised by his small, but accurate insight. The house did seem unbearably lonely when Jen was gone. “Despite teenage angst and troubles, yes, it does. I miss having her close by. Speaking of, she should be here by now.”
She pushed her chair back and stood, fluttering a hand when he made a similar move out of courtesy. “It’s okay. Jen knows to be on time. I’ll call her.”
Maggie made her way to the bottom of the stairs. What she’d said was true. She did miss having Jen closer, even though at times she was glad Jen was away from here and making new friends. Not all her acquaintances at home were ones Maggie would have chosen. And the last thing Maggie needed was for the marshal to know about Jen’s brush with the law.
“Jennifer. Dinner,” she called up the stairs.
There was a muffled thump from Jen’s room, then she came down, earbuds still stuck in her ears and her MP3 player stuffed in her pocket.
They went to the kitchen together, but when Jen sat and reached for the bread, Maggie shook her head.
“Not at the table, please.”
Jen seemed unconcerned as she plucked the buds from her ears. “Hey, Nate,” she greeted, snagging the piece of bread as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Maggie saw Nate try to hide a smile. Honestly, she wondered sometimes if the manners she’d tried to instill had gone in one ear and out the other.
“Hey, Jennifer.” Nate politely answered the greeting and broke the awkwardness by starting a conversation. “So…spring break is just about over. You looking forward to getting back to school?”
Maggie relaxed and ladled soup into bowls. Nate apparently had paid good attention to his upbringing. Manners and a natural sense of small talk. And for once, Jen didn’t seem to mind answering.
“I guess. It’s been kind of boring around here. Nothing to do.”
“Oh, I don’t know. With all this snow…there must be winter sports. Skiing, skating, tobogganing…or are those things uncool these days?”
Maggie grinned behind her water glass. She’d suggested a day of cross-country skiing earlier in the week, only to have the idea vetoed by Jen. The same Jen who a few years ago would have jumped at the chance.
“I dunno,” Jen replied.
Nate nodded. “I’m looking forward to spending lots of time outdoors,” he said. “No snow where I live. This is a real treat for me.”
Maggie pictured him bundled up, his boots strapped into a pair of snowshoes, with his eyes gleaming like sapphire bullets beneath his toque. Her heart thumped heavily. His lean, strong build made the outdoors a natural choice.
“I suppose you’re all athletic and stuff.” Jennifer paused and tilted her head as if examining him.
“It’s part of my job. I have to stay in good shape. Just because I’m not…working, doesn’t mean I can ignore the routine.” He paused to take a spoonful of soup. “Besides, if I eat your mother’s cooking for the next two weeks, I’m really going to have to watch myself.” His smile sparkled at Maggie. “This is delicious.”
“Thanks,” Maggie responded. She was used to receiving polite compliments on her cooking. It made no sense that his praise caused her heart to pitter-patter like a schoolgirl’s.
She considered steering the conversation so that Jen didn’t monopolize it, but she realized two things. Jen was more animated than she’d been the whole break, and Maggie was learning a whole lot more about Nate by sitting back and listening to their exchange.
“So, Nate…when you’re not vacationing, what’s your job like? Are you like a regular cop or what?” She popped a spoonful of soup into her mouth while waiting for his answer.
Nate concentrated on adding grated parmesan to the top of his soup. “No, not like a regular cop. I get to do special stuff. A lot of what I do is finding fugitives, people who have committed crimes and are on the run.”
“You mean like America’s Most Wanted?” Jen leaned forward now, her dinner forgotten.
Nate nodded. “Exactly like that. And sometimes I’m sent out on high profile security details, too.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Maggie’s voice intruded. A cop was bad enough, but even she knew that a police officer dealt with a lot of the mundane. This seemed like a whole other level. “Don’t you worry about getting killed?”
His eyes were steady on hers. “Yes, but not as much as I worry about getting the job done.”
Maggie’s chin flattened. Tall, strong and handsome was one thing, but having a target painted on his chest was quite another. She couldn’t imagine anyone choosing such a lifestyle.
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Jennifer!” Maggie put down her spoon and glared at her daughter for her crassness in asking such a thing. Nate’s eyes made the transition to look at Jennifer, the smile disappearing completely.
“Jen, that was beyond inappropriate.” Maggie spoke sharply. “Please apologize.”
But Nate shook his head. “There’s no need. It’s a valid question. I get it a lot.” He took a drink of water. “I work as part of a team. And our goal is to bring fugitives to justice, or to protect those we are assigned to protect. Of course we prefer to bring them in unharmed. But if we’re fired upon, we have to fire back.”
Silence fell over the table.
Maggie tried to fill the uncomfortable gap the way a hostess should, yet all she could see was Nate, holding a smoking gun. The thought chilled her considerably.
“That must be very stressful.”
Nate nodded. “It can be, yes.”
Jen’s voice interrupted again. “Is that why you’re here?”
Maggie kicked her beneath the table. Jen bit down on her lip but watched him, undeterred.
Nate swallowed. “Part of it, yes. I was directed to take some time off after a…particularly challenging case. A little rest and relaxation is just what the doctor ordered.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t as warm as before. “In keeping with that, I’d appreciate if you’d keep my presence here low-key. I realize it’s a small community, but right now I want to enjoy the outdoors and not worry about speculation.”
Maggie aimed a stern look at Jennifer before turning to Nate and answering.
“Of course. You are a guest here, and of course we’ll respect your wishes. That’s what the Haven is all about.” At least she didn’t have to worry right now. He was on vacation. What he did for a living had no bearing on anything.
“Thank you,” he murmured. He picked up his spoon again and resumed eating, and Jennifer wisely let the subject drop for the rest of the meal.
“Dessert, Mr. Griffith?”
Nate looked up at Maggie as she removed his plate and bowl. The meal had had its uncomfortable moments, but he was actually glad the questions had been asked and answered. He got the feeling that Maggie would have been too polite to ask point-blank what her daughter had. Not only that, but the questions had provided a natural way to introduce his cover. Even if he did feel a bit guilty about the half-lie. He’d deliberately prodded her about some things, like asking if she ran the bed and breakfast alone when he knew darn well she did. Still…it was all necessary.
Maggie was waiting, her lips curved pleasantly in what he now realized was her hostess smile. “I shouldn’t…but maybe you could tell me what it is first.”
Her lips twitched…a good sign, he thought. She’d looked far too serious throughout the rest of the meal. If he could get her to relax a bit, it would go a lot easier toward getting what he needed to know without her feeling like she was being questioned.
“Peach and blueberry tart with ice cream,” she answered.
Jennifer clattered around the kitchen, already scooping out servings. “Can’t really resist that, now can I,” he acquiesced. “So…yes, please. And stop calling me Mr. Griffith. Mr. Griffith is my father or my uncle.”
Maggie put on coffee while Jennifer finished doling out servings of the tart, taking hers and escaping to the den and the television. When Maggie placed the dessert before him, the smell alone was enough to remind him of home. Sweets weren’t something he indulged in much anymore, but his mother was a fantastic baker and plied him with goodies whenever he visited. Right now the scent of fruit and cinnamon took him back to when things were much simpler. Made him wish this were that simple, instead of him having to work his way through hidden motives. But this was the closest lodging to where he needed to be and the most private. There hadn’t been much of a choice, so he had to work with what he’d been given.
“What made you decide to take on a business such as this?” He decided to draw her out by talking about herself. “It has to be a huge job for one person.”
Maggie avoided answering by pouring coffee into thick pottery mugs.
“I had this house and a whole lot of empty rooms,” she explained. Her pulse quickened as she was drawn back nearly twenty years. “I had a house and a baby and a foster child and needed to support us all.”
Nate’s fork paused midair. “Children? As in plural?”
Maggie smiled thinly. “Yes, for a while I looked after my cousin, until he grew up and did his own thing. He’s thirty-one now.”
His fork dipped into a slice of peach but Maggie noticed a pair of creases between his brows. She tried to lighten the mood by cracking a joke. “Now you’re doing the math. How old must I be to have an eighteen-year-old daughter and a foster child of thirty-one?”
He swallowed and reached for his water as a snort of mirth bubbled out at her directness, easing the tension. “I guess I am.”
“I’ll save you the trouble. I’m forty-two. I was twenty-four when Jennifer was born. Mike was thirteen. He came to me when he was eleven— when I was twenty-two.”
She passed him the cream and sugar, then resumed her seat. “And now you want to ask the question and don’t know how to do it politely.”
Her heart fluttered. Talking about it was hard, and no matter how many times she answered, it never seemed to get any easier. But by now she knew that it was best to get it over with, quick and clean.
Nate had given up all pretense of eating and was watching her closely, so she tried her safest smile. “When I was twenty-five, my husband, Jennifer’s dad, was killed in a work accident.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
Conversation halted. Probing the topic further would be presumptuous, which was part of the reason why Maggie tended to get it over with as soon as possible. Once it was out there, most dropped the subject, uncomfortable with the idea of asking how it had happened, or worse, why she hadn’t married again. She knew her reasons. That was enough.
Nate put a bite of pastry and ice cream in his mouth. Her answers had been plain at best, and he knew she was skimming the surface, evading deeper responses. It would be rude to press further. And how much did he really want to know? He was here for a short time. It would be best if he stayed out of her way as much as possible, kept her questions to a minimum. Get the answers he needed and no more.
Besides, there were some questions about his life he wouldn’t want to answer. If she wanted to keep her life private, that was fine by him. What he needed from her had nothing to do with her private life beyond Jennifer’s—and her—involvement.
The candle at the center of the table flickered and he watched the flame dance.
Maggie sipped her coffee and changed the subject. “So what brings you to back roads Alberta? Most would choose a more touristy area. Like Banff, or somewhere south of the border. Montana or Colorado. There’s nothing around here besides snow and prairie and a bunch of ranches mixed in with the gas industry.”
“If this is your tourism pitch, I can see why your beds are empty,” he joked.
“This isn’t our big season,” she answered. “Like I said, most would head to the mountains for the skiing and richer comforts. We get most of our traffic in the summer.”
“I’m surprised you don’t vacation in the winter, then,” Nate suggested.
When she didn’t answer right away, he peered closer at her face and it struck him. “You do usually travel, don’t you? Is my being here…” He paused, knew he was right by the uncomfortable way her gaze evaded his. “You canceled plans because I was coming.” He hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought of anything beyond doing this assignment, and then dealing with the details.
She shook her head. “It’s no bother. I hadn’t even booked anything yet.”
“But you were going to,” he confirmed.
Maggie looked up at him and he was struck again by how young she looked. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought they were close to the same age.
“Mexico isn’t going anywhere.” She smiled shyly, and their gazes caught.
She tried to cover the moment with her own question. “How long have you been a marshal?”
“Five years. Before that I was in the marines.”
“Oh.”
He grinned at her. “And now you’re trying to do the math. I’ll save you the trouble. I’m thirty-three.”
“And you like it?”
“I couldn’t do it otherwise.”
Somehow their voices had softened in the candlelight, taking on an intimacy that surprised him, pleasantly. He watched as Maggie bit the inside of her lower lip and released it. She had a beautiful mouth. A mouth made for kissing.
When he lifted his gaze she was watching him, and her expression was fascination mixed with shock that he’d been staring at her lips.
Attraction, he realized. It had been a long time since he’d felt it. But there was definitely a familiar surge in his blood as his eyes locked with Maggie’s, blocking out the muted sound of the television coming from the den. Maggie Taylor raised his temperature and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.
It was a complication he didn’t need.All he really wanted to do was what he’d been sent here to do. He’d put on a good face; pretended this was just a vacation for some relaxation, but he wouldn’t have chosen this for a holiday. His idea of fun wasn’t in the middle of some godforsaken Canadian Prairie at a bed and breakfast. He certainly hadn’t expected to feel whatever it was he was feeling for the proprietress. He wasn’t sure if the desire to flirt with her was a detriment or a bonus.
The light from the candles sputtered, throwing shadows on her face. She was as different from his regular type as sun was from rain. Subdued, polite, grounded, yet anything but boring. It took a woman of character and stamina to lose a husband so young and still bring up a family and run a business. How had she done it all alone?
Jen coughed in the den and Maggie looked away as the moment ended. Nate caught his breath as the color bloomed in her cheeks. He hadn’t imagined it, then.
“Excuse me, I should clean this up.” Her voice was overbright as she scrambled up from the table, knocking over her empty mug.
It crashed to the floor, breaking into three distinct pieces.
“Oh, how clumsy of me!” Without looking at him, she knelt to the floor to pick up the pieces. Nate watched, amused. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who intrigued him, and even longer since he’d had the power to fluster one the way Maggie seemed to be right now.
“Let me help you,” he suggested, pushing out of his chair and squatting down beside her.
“Ow!”
Maggie sat back, one of the pieces of pottery in her left hand and a small shard sticking out of a finger on the opposite hand. A drop of blood formed around the tip.
“Maggie, take a breath.” Nate took her hand gently in his. “Are you sure coffee was a good idea?” He chuckled as he concentrated on her finger, pinching the fragment between his thumb and forefinger. “Perhaps decaf next time, hmmm?”
He pulled out the shard, but it had gone deeper than he expected and the drop of blood turned into a substantial streak.