Maggie knew it was wrong, but it felt right.

Why now, after all this time, did she finally feel connected to someone? There were so many reasons why he was wrong for her. He was a man who lived for his work, and thought nothing of putting himself in danger. He had his life ahead of him. They didn’t even live in the same country.

And in a very short time he’d be gone. And she was shocked to find, in the circle of his arms, that she would miss him when he left.

But she had right now, and she burrowed deeper into his chest, letting the clean scent of him surround her. Letting his body form a cocoon as the slightest bit of healing trickled into her.

Donna Alward can’t remember a time when she didn’t love books. When her mother would take her to town, her ‘treat’ was not clothes or candy but a trip to the bookstore. This followed through university as she studied English Literature, writing short stories and poetry, but never attempting full-length fiction. In 2001 her sister told her to just get out there and do it, and after completing her first manuscript she was hooked. She lives in Alberta, Canada, with her husband and children, and when not writing is involved in music and volunteering at her children’s school.

To find out more about Donna, visit her web page at www.donnaalward.com, or her blog at www.donnaalward.blogspot.com, and sign up for her newsletter!

Recent titles by this author:

HIRED BY THE COWBOY

MARRIAGE AT CIRCLE M

THE SOLDIER’S HOMECOMING

Dear Reader

Why is it that sometimes the thing we want the least is exactly what we need the most?

When I was writing HIRED BY THE COWBOY and MARRIAGE AT CIRCLE M, I got to wondering about Mike’s cousin, Maggie. Maggie became Mike’s foster parent when she wasn’t that much older than he was, and I wanted to know what had happened to her. I got to know her, and realised that the strength she displayed in her childhood had been tested in her adult years. So much so that she had resolved never to love again.

I realised she needed a hero who could restore her faith...in herself, in life, in love. And that hero was Nate Griffith, a US Marshal sent to Canada on a case. The kind of man she shied away from—young, vibrant, principled, and in a profession that carried far more danger than she was comfortable with. The kind of man who could show her that there was more to life than complacency and fear. That living without risk isn’t living at all...it’s just existing.

Nate comes to realise that his job isn’t always about punishing the guilty. It’s also about protecting the innocent. And when Maggie sees this...sees this code of honour and duty...well, even a heart as closed off as hers can’t stay immune for long.

I enjoyed writing this book very much—enjoyed creating Mountain Haven Bed and Breakfast, and loved how Maggie somehow started cooking some of my favourite recipes for Nate! I hope you enjoy it too.

You can visit me at my website, www.donnaalward.com, or write to me care of Mills & Boon. I’d love to hear from you.

Love

Donna

FALLING FOR MR DARK & DANGEROUS

BY

DONNA ALWARD

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Acknowledgements

When I decided I wanted to write a book with a cop hero, I turned to Mark Graham, US Marshal, who not only provided me with all the law enforcement information I needed but also gave me a glimpse into what it’s actually like to do the job that he does. Thank you, Mark, for the info and the laughs. You rock.

Dedication

My paternal grandmother was an avid reader, even bringing up several children during the depression and beyond. Her attachment to Mills & Boon romances is legendary in our family. So much so that at one point or another we’ve all been called ‘Myrtle’ after her—my mother, my sisters, even me. Now my own children have taken on that tradition; this summer found my girls on a bunk with a book more often than not, and at one point or another they were dubbed ‘Myrtle’.

Gram passed away when I was seventeen, but I think of her often these days as I’m now writing the stories that she loved so much.

I dedicate this book to Gram, for passing on her love for books to all of us, and hope that in some small way I have done her proud. This is for you, Grammie.

CHAPTER ONE

THE crunch of tires on snow let Maggie Taylor know he was here. The U.S. marshal. The man who’d thrown a monkey wrench into things before he’d ever even arrived.

She parted the curtains and looked out over the white-capped yard. A late March storm had dropped several centimeters of snow earlier in the week and then the temperature had plunged. Now it looked more like Christmas than impending spring.

Maggie sighed as the black SUV pulled up beside her truck. She’d almost booked a trip to get away from the late surge of winter. She’d always found an excuse not to travel, but now that Jen was away from home, she’d decided to treat herself for once and go somewhere hot, where she’d be catered to instead of doing the catering. In fact, she’d been taking extra time browsing around the travel agent’s on a trip to Red Deer when he had called, requesting a room for a prolonged stay.

Of course, since she’d been out at the time, Jennifer had taken the call and booked him in without even asking. Not only had it spoiled her plans, but it had caused a huge argument between her and Jennifer. She pressed her thumbs against her index fingers, snapping the knuckles. If it hadn’t been about that, it would have been something else. They were always arguing, it seemed. They never saw eye to eye on anything anymore.

As if preordained, Jennifer chose that moment to gallop down the stairs. Maggie stared at the pink plaid flannel that covered her daughter’s bottom half, topped by a battered gray sweatshirt that had seen far better days. Maggie felt guilty at the relief she knew she’d feel when Jennifer went back to school after her spring break. These days they got along much better when there were several miles between them.

She dropped the curtain back into place, obscuring her view of the man getting out of the vehicle.

“Honestly, Jen. You’re still in your pyjamas and our guest is here.” She ran her hands down her navy slacks and straightened the hem of the thick gray sweater she’d put on to ward off the chill.

“I haven’t done my laundry yet.” Jennifer skirted past her and headed straight for the kitchen.

Maggie sighed. Even though Jen complained that there was nothing to do around here, she somehow always left laundry and chores up to Maggie. And Maggie did them rather than frustrate herself with yet another argument. Their relationship was fragile enough.

When Jen had informed her of this particular booking, Maggie had lost her cool instead of thanking her daughter for actually taking some initiative with the business. Instead she’d harped about her ruined vacation plans.

She should just let the resentment go. Mexico wasn’t going anywhere. She’d go another time, that was all. And the money from this off-season booking would come in handy come summer, when repairs to the house would need to be undertaken.

The marshal was a guest here and it was her job to make him feel welcome. Even if she had her doubts. A cop, of all people. He was probably rigid and scheduled and had no sense of humor.

Letting out a breath and pasting on her smile, she went to the door and opened it before he had a chance to ring the bell.

“Welcome to Mountain Haven Bed and Breakfast,” she got out, but the rest of the words of her rehearsed greeting flew out of her head as she stared a long way up into blue-green eyes.

“Thank you.” His lips moved above a gray and black parka that was zipped precisely to the top. “I know it’s off-season, and I appreciate your willingness to open for me. I hope it hasn’t inconvenienced you.”

It was a struggle to keep her mouth from dropping open, to keep the welcome smile curving her lips. His introductory speech had locked her gaze on his face and she was staggered. She’d be spending the next three weeks with this man? In an otherwise empty bed and breakfast? Jennifer would only be here another few days, and then it was back to school. It would be just the two of them.

What had started out as an annoying business necessity was now curled with intimacy. He was, very possibly, the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Even bundled in winter gear she sensed his lean, strong build, the way he carried his body. With purpose and intent. His voice was smooth with just a hint of gravel, giving it a rumbling texture; the well-shaped lips unsmiling despite his polite speech. And he had killer eyes…eyes that gleamed brilliantly in contrast to his dark clothing.

“I am in the right place, aren’t I?” He turned his head and looked at the truck, then back at her, frowning a bit as she remained stupidly silent.

Pull yourself together, she told herself. She stepped back, opening the door wider to welcome him in. “If you’re Nathaniel Griffith, you’re in the right place.”

He smiled finally, a quick upturn of the lips, and exhaled, a cloud forming in the frigid air. “That’s a relief. I was afraid I’d gotten lost. And please—” he pulled off his glove and held out his hand “—call me Nate. I only get called Nathaniel when I’m in trouble with my boss or my mother.”

She smiled back, genuinely this time, as she shook his hand. It was warm and firm and enveloped her smaller fingers completely. She couldn’t imagine him in trouble for anything. He looked like Mr. All-American.

“I’m Maggie Taylor, the owner. Please, come in. I’ll show you your room and get you familiar with the place.”

“I’ll just get my bags,” he said, stepping back outside the door.

He jogged to the truck, reaching into the back seat for a large black duffel. He leaned across the seat for something else and the back of his jacket slid up, revealing a delicious rear-view clad in faded denim. A dark thrill shot through her at the sight.

“Wow. That’s yum,” came Jen’s voice just behind her shoulder.

Maggie stepped back into the shadows behind the door, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “Jennifer! For God’s sake, keep your voice down. This is our guest.”

Jen took a bite of the toast she’d prepared, looking remarkably unconcerned by either her words or her appearance. “The cop, right? The one I booked? Mom, if the front’s anything like the back, it totally beats Mexico.”

Nate turned around, bags in hand and Maggie pressed a hand to her belly. This was silly. It was a visceral, physical reaction, nothing more. He was good-looking. So what? She was his hostess. It wasn’t her style to have an attraction to a guest.

It wasn’t her style to feel that sort of pull to anyone for that matter, not these days. It was just Jen pointing out his attributes. Maggie wasn’t blind, after all.

His booted steps echoed on the veranda and he stomped the snow from his boots before coming in and putting down the bags.

Maggie shut the door behind him. Enough draft had been let in by the exchange and already the foyer was chilly.

“I’m Jen.” Jennifer plopped her piece of peanut butter toast back to her plate and held out her hand.

“Nate,” he answered, taking her hand and shaking it.

When he pulled back, a smudge of peanut butter stuck to his knuckle.

“My daughter,” Maggie said weakly.

“I gathered,” he answered, then with an unexpected grin, licked the smudge from his thumb.

Jen beamed up at him, unfazed, while Maggie blushed.

“You took my reservation,” he offered, smiling at Jennifer.

Jen nodded. “I’m on spring break.”

Maggie held out her hand. “Let me take your coat,” she offered politely. “The closet’s just here.”

He shrugged out of the jacket and Maggie realized how very tall he was. Easily over six feet, he towered over her modest height. He handed her the coat, along with thick gloves. She smiled as she turned to the closet, the weight of the parka heavy in her hands. For a man from the sunny south, he sure knew how to dress for an Alberta winter.

The phone rang, and Jen raced to answer it. Nate’s eyes followed her from the room, then fell on Maggie.

“Teenagers and phones.” She raised her shoulders as if to say, “What can you do?”

“I remember.” He looked around. “She gave great directions. I found you pretty easily.”

“You drove, then?” Maggie hadn’t had a chance to get a glimpse of his plates. Maybe the SUV was a rental. He could easily have flown into Calgary or Edmonton and picked up a vehicle there.

“The truck’s on loan from a friend. He met me at Coutts, and I dropped him off before driving the rest of the way.”

Maggie shut the closet door and turned back, getting more comfortable as they settled into polite, if cool, chitchat. This was what she did for a living, after all. There was no need to feel awkward with a guest, despite Jen’s innuendoes.

“Where does your friend live?” Maggie asked. Nate gripped the duffel by the short handles. Maggie paused her question. “Would you like some help with your bags?”

“I’ve got it.” He moved purposefully, sliding the pack over his shoulder and gripping the duffel.

Maggie stood nonplussed. His words had been short and clipped, but she’d only been offering a simple courtesy.

Her lack of response stretched out awkwardly while Jennifer’s muffled voice sounded from the kitchen. Inconvenience at his arrival was now becoming discomfort. Perhaps she’d been right after all when she’d thought about having a cop underfoot. Terse and aloof. She prided herself on a friendly, comfortable atmosphere, but it took two to accomplish it. By the hard set of his jaw, her work was clearly cut out for her.

Nate spoke, finally breaking the tension.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just used to looking after myself.” He smiled disarmingly. “My mother would flay me alive if I let a woman carry my things.”

Maggie wondered what his mother would say if she knew Maggie looked after running the business and all the repairs on the large house single-handedly. She was used to being on her own and doing everything from starting a business to repairing a roof to raising a daughter.

“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see.” Her words came out cooler than she wanted as she moved past him to the stairs.

“No, ma’am.” His steps echoed behind her as she started up the staircase.

When they reached the top, she paused. Perhaps because of his job he was naturally suspicious, but she was trying hard not to feel snubbed after his curt words in the foyer. It should have been implicitly understood that whatever was in his bags was his business. She’d never go through a guest’s belongings!

“The Mountain Haven Bed and Breakfast is exactly that.A haven.” She led him to a sturdy white door, opened it. “A place to get away from worries and stress. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here.”

He looked down into her eyes, but she couldn’t read his expression. It was like he was deliberately keeping it blank. She’d hoped her words would thaw his cool manner just a bit, but he only replied, “I appreciate your discretion.”

He went inside, putting his duffel on the floor and the backpack on the wing chair in the corner.

“Local calls are free, long distance go on your bill, unless of course you use a prepaid card.” Maggie dismissed the futility of trying to draw him out and gave him the basic rundown instead. “There’s no television in your room, but there is a den downstairs that you’re welcome to use.”

Maggie paused. Nate was waiting patiently for her to finish her spiel. It was very odd, with him being her only guest. Knowing he’d be the only guest for the next few weeks. It didn’t seem right, telling him mealtimes and rules.

She softened her expression. “Look, normally there’s a whole schedule thing with meals and everything, but you’re my only guest. I think we can be a little more flexible. I usually serve breakfast between eight and nine, so if that suits you, great. I can work around your plans. Dinner is served at six-thirty. For lunch, things are fluid. I can provide it or not, for a minimum charge on your overall bill. I’m happy to tell you about local areas of interest, and you have dial-up Internet access in your room.”

Nate tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m your only guest?”

“That’s right. It’s not my busiest time right now.”

“Then…” His eyes met hers sheepishly. “Look, I’m going to feel awkward eating alone. I don’t suppose…we could all eat together.”

Nate watched her closely and she felt color creep into her cheeks yet again. Silly Jennifer and her suggestive comments. The front side was as attractive as the back and Maggie couldn’t help but notice as they stood together in the quiet room. It wasn’t how things were usually done. Normally guests ate in the dining room and she ate at the nook or she and Jen at the kitchen table. Yet it would seem odd, serving him all alone in the dining room. It was antisocial, somehow.

She struggled to keep her voice low and even. “Basically your stay should be enjoyable. If you prefer to eat with us, that would be fine. And if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, let me know.”

“Everything here looks great, Ms. Taylor.”

“Then I’ll leave you to unpack. The bathroom is two doors down, and as my only guest it’s yours alone. Jennifer and I each have our own so you won’t have to share. I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if there’s anything you need. Otherwise, I’ll see you for dinner.”

She courteously shut the door, then leaned against it, closing her eyes. Nate Griffith wasn’t an ordinary guest, that much she knew already. She couldn’t shake the irrational feeling that he was hiding something. He hadn’t said or done anything to really make her think so, beyond being proprietary with his backpack. But something niggled at the back of her mind, something that made her un comfortable. Given his profession, she should be reassured. Who could be safer than someone in law enforcement? Why would he have any sort of ulterior motive?

His good looks were something she’d simply have to ignore. She’d have to get over her silly awkwardness in a hurry, since they were going to be essentially roommates for the next few weeks. Jen wouldn’t be here to run interference much longer, and Maggie would rely on her normal professional, warm persona. Piece of cake.

He was just a man, after all. A man on vacation from a stressful job. A man with an expense account that would make up for her lost plans by helping pay for her next trip.

Nate heaved out a sigh as the door shut with a firm click. Thank goodness she was gone.

He looked around the room. Very nice. Grant had assured him that the rural location didn’t mean substandard lodging, and so far he was right. What he’d seen of the house was clean, warm and welcoming. His room was no different.

The furniture was all of sturdy golden pine; the spread on the bed was thick and looked homemade with its country design in navy, burgundy, deep green and cream. An extra blanket in rich red lay over the foot of the bed. He ran his hand over the footboard. He would have preferred no footboard, so he could stretch out. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here and he had all the amenities he needed. To anyone in the area, he’d be a vacationing guest. To his superiors, he’d be consistently connected through the Internet and in liaison with local authorities. Creature comforts were secondary, but not unwelcome. Lord knew he’d stayed in a lot worse places while on assignment.

He unpacked his duffel, laying clothing neatly in the empty dresser drawers. His hand paused on a black sweater. When Grant had mentioned a bed and breakfast, Nate had instantly thought of some middle-aged couple. When he’d learned Maggie ran Mountain Haven alone, he’d pictured a woman in her mid-to-late forties who crocheted afghans for the furniture and exchanged recipes for chicken pot pie with her guests. Maggie Taylor didn’t fit his profile at all. Neither did Jen. He’d known she was here, but she seemed precocious and typically teenage. Certainly not the kind to get in trouble with the police.

He rested his hips on the curved footboard and frowned. It was hard to discern Maggie’s age. Initially he’d thought her maybe a year or two older than himself. But the appearance of her nearly grown daughter had changed that impression. He couldn’t tell for sure, but she had to be at least late thirties to have a daughter that age. Yet…her skin was still creamy and unlined, her eyes blue and full-lashed. Her hand had been much smaller than his, and soft.

But it was Maggie’s eyes that stuck in his mind. Eyes that smiled warmly with welcome but that held a hint of cool caution in their depths. Eyes that told him whatever her path had been, it probably hadn’t been an easy one.

He stood up abruptly and reached for the jeans in his duffel, going to hang them in the closet. He wasn’t here to make calf-eyes at the proprietress. That was the last thing he should be thinking about. He had a job to do. That was all. He had information to gather and who better to ask than someone in the know, someone who would take his questions for tourist curiosity? Inviting himself to dinner had put her on the spot, but with the desired results.

The afternoon light was already starting to wane when he dug out his laptop and set it up on the small desk to the left of the bed. Within seconds it was booted up, connected and ready to go. He logged in with his password, checked his e-mail… and waited for everything to download. Once he’d taken care of everything that needed his immediate attention, he quickly composed a few short notes, hitting the send button and waiting what seemed an age for them to leave the Outbox.

“I miss high speed Internet,” he muttered, tapping his fingers on the desk, waiting for the dial-up connection to send his messages. Waiting was not something he did well.

But perhaps learning to wait was a life lesson he needed. He’d been one to act first and think later too many times. Dealing with the aftermath of mistakes had caused him to be put on leave in the first place. He hadn’t even been two weeks into his leave when it had been cut short and he’d been given this assignment, and he was glad of it. He wasn’t keen on sitting around twiddling his thumbs.

Grant had asked for him personally. As a favor. And this wasn’t a job to be rushed. It was a time for watching and waiting.

He frowned at the monitor as the messages finally went through. He didn’t want to run up a long distance bill while he was here, but staying in communication was important. For now, his laptop was his connection to the outside world. It was a tiny community. The less conspicuous he was, the better.

He realized that his room had grown quite dark, and checked his watch. It was after six already, and Maggie had said dinner was at six-thirty. He didn’t want to get things off to a bad start on his first day, so he shut down the computer and put his backpack beneath the empty duffel in the closet.

* * *

Maggie heard his footsteps moving around upstairs for a long time, listening to the muffled thump as she mixed dough and browned ground beef for the soup.

Nate Griffith. U.S. Marshal. The name had conjured an image of a flat faced cop when Jennifer had told her about the reservation. Despite the flashes of coolness, he was anything but. He couldn’t be more than thirty, thirty-one. And it hadn’t taken but a moment to realize he was all legs and broad shoulders, and polite manners.

“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.

“Do you have a first-aid kit?”

Her voice was subdued. “Of course I do. Under the sink in the bathroom.”

He rose and headed for the stairs.

“The one over there. In my living quarters.”

He stopped and looked at the closed door leading off the kitchen. She had wrapped a napkin around the finger and stood up, taking the larger pieces of the mug and placing them gently on the table.

“I’ll get it,” she said.

“No, you sit tight. I will.”

Nate changed direction and went through the door, feeling somehow like he was trespassing. This was crazy. Less than six hours here and he was flirting with the owner and wandering around her private living space. He went into the bathroom, surprised by the scent of cinnamon and apples coming from a scented oil dispenser plugged into the wall. Switching on a light, he was bathed in an intimate glow—no blaring bulbs here. Soothing blue and deep red splashes of color accented the ivory decor. Nate felt very much like he was intruding.

He searched the small vanity cupboard until he found a white box with a red cross on the top. He shut off the light and went back to the kitchen, where he found Maggie at the sink, the napkin off her finger as she ran it beneath cold water. She lifted it out of the stream and looked at it closely in the soft light from above the sink.

“I think all of it came out,” she explained. “What a klutz I am.”

“Not at all.” Nate sat the kit down on the counter and flipped open the lid. “It’s not deep, so you just need a small bandage.”

“I can get it, truly.”

“You’re right handed, aren’t you? Putting it on lefty would be awkward. I’ve got two capable hands.”

Maggie looked down at his fingers holding the bandage. Capable indeed. His hands were wide, with long tapering fingers. She swallowed, but held out her finger anyway.

The sound of the paper wrapper tearing off the bandage echoed through the kitchen. Nate stepped closer, anchoring one sticky end and then holding her hand before wrapping the rest around and sticking it to itself. Her heart pounded painfully; she was sure he could hear it as he applied the small wrap.

“All better,” he said softly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He started to pull his hand away, but for a long moment his fingertips stayed on hers. She lifted her eyes to his and found him watching her steadily. Oxygen seemed scarce as she fell entranced by his intense eyes, the shape of his lips. Lips that leaned in ever so slightly.

“You’re welcome.” And he lifted her finger to his lips and kissed the tip.

CHAPTER THREE

NATE flipped through the channels aimlessly. There really wasn’t going to be much to do here in the evenings, especially when the days were still fairly short. At the end of March, this far north, it was full dark early in the evening. Whatever work he did, it would be during the day. It was becoming very clear that after dinner he’d either spend his time here, in the den, or upstairs in his room reading or working online.

He’d rather be upstairs, putting his thoughts together, but on the off-chance that Maggie might come in, he stayed.

He had questions, ones whose answers could get him started in the right direction. Not to mention the fact that he’d enjoyed their little interplay in the kitchen earlier. It had been a long time since he’d indulged in a little harmless flirtation.

Maggie entered with a coffee carafe and mugs on a tray. She put them down on the coffee table. “I thought you might like some coffee,” she offered. “I made a fresh pot and promise not to break any more mugs.” She smiled tentatively.

The brew smelled wonderful and Nate brushed aside the thought that he’d be up all night if he drank too much of it. He wasn’t about to refuse the gesture. If nothing else, it would give him more time with her, and that wasn’t a hardship. “That would be wonderful.” When she poured the first cup, he nodded to the second. “Are you joining me?”

She smiled. “If you like.”

Nate looked up into her eyes. They were warm and friendly with something more. Perhaps a shy invitation, definitely a quiet curiosity. “I would like.” He returned her smile. “It’s quiet. The company would be nice.”

Maggie took her own cup and sat, not on the sofa next to him, but in a nearby chair. Nate was taking up the couch and she was far too aware of him to sit next to him. In the winter months, this room became the family room, and she often snuggled up on the couch with a blanket and a DVD. In season, it was where the guests went to relax.

Normally she didn’t socialize with her guests, either. But normally her guests didn’t travel alone at the end of winter. She was accustomed to guests traveling in pairs. A romantic getaway, or a stop on the way to somewhere else. Very rarely did she have singles, and when she did, it was nearly always in prime season when they were out exploring the area or the nearby Rockies, or when other guests were present to facilitate conversation.

But Nate was definitely here alone. She’d noticed the absence of a wedding ring at dinner.

“This gives me a chance to pick your brain,” he was saying, and she stopped staring at his hands and paid attention. The tingling sensation that he was more than he seemed prickled once more.

“Pick my brain?”

“About things to do while I’m here.”

She exhaled slowly. Just tourist information, then. She’d had the uncomfortable feeling after their interchange in the kitchen that he was about to get personal. “Well, there are always day trips into the mountains. I have pamphlets, but there are lots of winter activities there.” She crossed her legs, adopting the tour-guide voice she used with guests. “Or a few hours either northeast or south will take you to major cities for shopping, the arts, whatever you want.”

“I meant more locally. What I can do with Mountain Haven as my base.” Nate put down his cup and leaned forward slightly. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook, it seemed.

Maggie swallowed. His voice was deep and a little rough; it rumbled with soft seduction through the room. The remembrance of her finger against his lips rippled through her.

“We’re…we’re usually closed this time of year. I’m afraid I haven’t given it much thought.”

“I see.” He looked down into his cup, frowning, then took a drink.

“But…I have some personal gear I could loan you.” His disappointment in her answer was clear and she instantly regretted being so cool. She punctuated the offer with a soft smile.

“Personal gear?”

Maggie hesitated. She knew that out in the shed she’d find Tom’s things—cross-country skis, snowshoes, even his old hockey skates. They’d been out there over fifteen years, and she’d never had the heart to throw them away.

But holding on to them didn’t make much sense anymore. For the last several years, she’d nearly forgotten they were even there. If Nate could get some use out of them, why shouldn’t he?

“My husband’s things. Snowshoes, skis, that sort of thing.” She took a sip of hot coffee to cover the tiny waver she heard in her own voice.

The television still chattered in the background, but Nate went very still. She heard nothing beyond the quiet resonance of his voice.

“That’s not necessary. I can outfit myself, if you can tell me where to shop.”

Maggie nodded slightly. “I understand if you’re uncomfortable with using Tom’s things.” What man would truly want the leftovers of a dead man, after all?

“I don’t mind at all. I thought maybe you were uncomfortable with it, which I completely understand.”

Maggie looked up. Nate was watching her calmly, one ankle crossed over his knee. His lips were unsmiling, but not cold. No, never cold, she realized. She was starting to understand that what she’d mistaken for coolness earlier was just him waiting, accepting. Like he understood far more than he should for someone so young.

And he was young. When she thought about the numbers, she realized there was much behind her and much ahead for him. She’d been married, raised a child, knew what to expect from life and had accepted it. But he had so much yet to discover. She was good at reading people, doing what she did, and unless she missed her guess, Nate had all those things ahead of him.

But when she looked into his eyes like she was now, the numbers faded away into nothingness. Somehow, without knowing each other hardly at all, she got the feeling they were strangely coming from a similar place. Like she recognized something in him though they’d never met before. Something that superseded the difference in their ages.

“It’s not doing anyone any good in storage. You are most welcome to it.”

“In that case, thanks. I appreciate it, Maggie.”

He used her given name again and it felt very personal. Like they’d crossed a threshold moving them from simple guest/proprietor relationship to something more. Which was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

Maggie leaned ahead and poured herself more coffee. It was good Nate was going to use the things. Letting go of Tom had taken a long time. But the sense of loss never left her completely. Or the sense of regret. She had a box of small trinkets she kept all the time, mementos of those she’d loved, tucked away in a box in her closet. She had memories and other reminders of Tom; the skis and snowshoes wouldn’t be missed. It was a long time ago and in most respects, she’d moved on.

And in the others…that was none of his business.

Jennifer popped in the door, grinning first at Nate and then over at Maggie. “I thought I smelled coffee.”

Maggie was glad of the interruption. “You’ll have to grab a mug from the kitchen.”

With a flashy smile, Jen saluted and disappeared. Maggie couldn’t repress the smirk that twisted her lips. Nate looked over at her with raised eyebrows, and Maggie let out a soft laugh. For all of her troubles, Jen was the breath of fresh air that brightened the house when she was home.

“She’s got lots of energy,” Nate commented dryly, his hand cradled around his mug as he lifted an eyebrow at Maggie.

“That comes from being eighteen.”

“You make it sound like you’re in your dotage.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m a lot closer than I care to admit.”

Nate put down his empty cup and rested his elbows on his knees, linking his hands together. “Believe me, Maggie. You’re anything but too old.”

Maggie’s pulse leaped as his gaze locked with hers. Too old for what? For him? She couldn’t deny the undercurrents that kept running through their conversation, or the way he’d kissed the tip of her finger. The way she’d caught him staring at her lips. Perhaps flirtation came naturally to him. But she was very out of practice.

“I’m old enough to have a grown daughter to worry about.”

Jen popped back in the door and headed straight for the coffeepot, oblivious to the tension in the room. As she poured, she gave her mother the update. “Three loads down, one more to go and my term paper is printing as we speak.”

“Atta girl.” It was a relief for Maggie to turn her attention to Jen and away from Nate’s probing glances.

“Hmph.” Jen grumbled as she stirred milk and two heaping teaspoons of sugar into her mug. “Break would have been more fun if I could have gone out instead of being cooped up here writing about the War of 1812.”

“What exactly do you do for fun around here?” Nate took a sip of coffee.

Maggie looked at Jen. Maggie’s idea of going out for fun wasn’t quite the same as Jen’s. Maggie preferred for Jen to hang out with girls her own age. Maybe go into Sundre to a movie or something. It was one thing about living in a very small community. Maggie remembered it well. Someone would make a liquor run and everyone would converge on an agreed spot. Most of the time it was harmless, but not always. As they both well knew.

“I, uh…” Jen actually faltered, looking at her mother.

Good, thought Maggie. Perhaps Jen was realizing now that what she’d done was serious. And that it definitely wouldn’t seem funny to a cop.

“Um, you know, hang out with other kids and stuff. There’s not much to do around here. No place to go other than the store.”

“The store?”

Maggie answered the question. “The General Store. Unless you go into Sundre or Olds, it’s the only place around to pick up what you need.” Maggie looked at Jen, who was staring into her coffee cup. “I’m afraid kids tend to be at loose ends a lot of the time. It’s good that Jen’s going to school in Edmonton. There’s more there for her to see and do.”

Jen’s head lifted in surprise and Maggie offered a warm smile. Sure, in her heart she also knew there was potential for Jen to get into much more trouble, and that worried her. But by the same token, there was more to catch Jen’s interest and keep her busy. It was just hard not being there to make sure she was making good choices.

Maggie went to pour more coffee and realized the cream was empty.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

Nate watched her leave, then casually leaned back on the couch, crossing an ankle over his knee again.

“I get the feeling you and your mom just had a whole conversation.”

Jen looked up, her cheeks pink. “Well…yeah. Maybe. How’d you know?”

Nate chuckled softly, settling back into the cushions. “Ah. I, too, have a mother. One that saw far more than I ever thought she did.”

“My mom sees everything.”

Nate purposefully kept his pose relaxed, inviting. It might be his only opportunity. “See now? It sounds like there’s a bigger story in there somewhere. You get in some trouble, Jen?”

Her lips thinned and he recognized the stubborn rebellion in her eyes.

“You’re a cop. If I did, it would be dumb to tell you, wouldn’t it.”

Nate nodded. When she got that obstinate jut to her chin, she looked remarkably like her mother. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “I can see how you’d think that. But you know, I’m not here to bust you for anything. And sometimes an impartial ear comes in handy.”

“Why don’t you ask my mom?”

“Because I’m asking you. Because maybe I also became a cop to help people.”

Again, Jen stared into her cup, avoiding looking him in the eye. “I got into some trouble with the RCMP last year.”

“Doing?”

“I got caught with drugs.” Her fingers turned her coffee cup around, avoiding him.

“Were you using?” Nate was careful to voice the question gently, without censure.

“No. I mean, I’d tried a joint or two, I guess. Like everyone else. I thought it was gross. I was just…I didn’t sell it or anything.”

“You weren’t using and you weren’t selling. Delivery?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Her eyes slid up to his and he knew he’d been right to take it plain and simple. Her fingers stopped fiddling with the mug.

“You were a go-between. And you got caught with it.”

She nodded. “Yes. I mean…I know it was wrong, but it was only pot. My mom was so mad. I was…scared to say much of anything, but in the end she made it okay. She made it so I could come home. And then she sent me away to school. A change of scenery, she said.”

But Nate knew that tone of voice. He could tell Jen resented being sent away. But his job wasn’t to mend fences between Maggie and Jennifer. He held his breath, listening for any evidence that Maggie was coming back. If only she would stay away another five minutes, he might have what he needed. An ID.

“Jen, who were you doing it for? A boyfriend? Did someone threaten you?”

She shook her head so hard he knew whatever came next would only be a partial truth, if that.

“No. No. Pete was never my boyfriend. He’s…he’s just the go-to guy, you know? On a Saturday when you can’t make it into Sundre to the liquor store, or whatever, you go see Pete, and he sets you up.”

Nate gritted his teeth. Small potatoes crime, the kind everyone hated but mostly turned a blind eye to as if it would never affect them. “Booze and recreational drugs?” He forced his voice to remain calm and inviting. Damn. Pete seemed to have changed professions, just like Grant had said. There was no doubt in his mind that the local residents probably considered him the community miscreant, but had no idea of his real past.

If he was indeed the man he’d been sent here to find. More than ever now he had to be sure.

“It started out as something fun, something exciting, you know? But then it all changed and I wasn’t sure how to get out. And I was scared to talk to Mom. I knew she’d blow her top about it. In one way…” She blushed. “I guess in a way I’m glad I got caught. Because then it was over and done with. I just hate that I disappointed her.”

Suddenly Jen’s face changed, no longer embarrassed but fearful. “You’re not going to say anything, are you? I mean…gosh, I probably said too much… we just sort of got to a place where we’re okay, you know? Not fighting about it all the time.”

Nate felt guilt spiral through him. He’d actually inspired her trust and now he was indeed going to use what she’d told him. The only thing that made it okay was knowing that in the big picture he was doing the right thing. He had no desire to hurt Jen, or Maggie. On the contrary.

“It’s okay, Jen. I wouldn’t use what you told me against you.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Like I said, my job is also to help people.” Helping people by getting rid of scum, he reminded himself. Helping people by getting the information right.

“Yeah, and besides, you’re from the States. So there’s no jurisdiction, right?”

He swallowed. It didn’t matter how long he did this, some things simply didn’t sit right even when they were necessary. He reminded himself of the bigger purpose and lied. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“My mom…she was mad, but I think she was more upset that maybe I was in big trouble. I…I don’t want to hurt my mom again.”

Nate smiled. Jen was a good kid, no matter how much trouble she’d gotten into. He hoped Maggie knew it. It spoke well of her that she was worried about her mom’s feelings. But his concern was Pete.

“How old is this Pete? I mean, does he usually use young girls to move his stuff?”

“I dunno. Old. Like in his forties, I guess. He just moved here a few years ago. He, you know. Tries to keep it on the low. He’s not really hurting anybody. It’s just parties and stuff.”

Nate hid another smile at Jen’s perspective of “old.” At eighteen, he supposed it seemed that way. Yet Maggie fell into that bracket and he wouldn’t consider her old at all. He remembered the sound of her breath catching in her throat when he’d kissed the tip of her finger. No, there was nothing old about Maggie.

He heard a door shut down the hall and he realized whatever information he’d received was all he’d get. But it was enough.

“Hey, Jen, you want some friendly advice?”

“I guess.”

“Make sure you always learn from your mistakes. I can tell that the experience isn’t something you’d care to repeat. Take your lessons learned with you.”

Take your own advice, buddy, a voice inside him said.

“You’re not going to tell my mom? That I told you?”

“Not unless she asks. And you know, she might be really glad to know what you just said. About not wanting to hurt her. Might be a good way to mend some fences.”

“I’ll think about it.”

When Maggie came back in, she put down the cream and ruffled Jen’s hair. “I put your last load in the dryer for you. And hung up your sweater.”

“Thanks.”

Nate tasted cold coffee and suddenly knew what had been plaguing him for the last few weeks. He was homesick. He was missing someone being there for him when he got in trouble, the way Maggie was there for Jennifer. Someone who cared enough to do the little things, for no reason at all. And despite how complicated the trip was rapidly becoming, he was glad he’d somehow ended up at Mountain Haven.

Maggie breathed on her fingers, fumbled with the key and finally got it shoved in the lock.

It turned hard, stiff from the cold and lack of use, but finally the padlock sprung apart and she opened the shed door with a flourish.

“Enter, if you dare.”

She aimed a bright smile up at Nate. He’d been quiet last night after she’d come back in the room, and had excused himself soon after. But this morning he was back to what she assumed was his friendly self. Now he was with her, ready to dig out Tom’s things and see if they were fit for use.

He smiled back, his even teeth flashing white in the frosty air. “I think I mentioned that I was also a marine. I’m not afraid of an itty-bitty shed.”

“Not even of spiders?”

He laughed. “It’s minus a million out here. If they can get through this parka, they deserve a meal.”

He ducked into the shed while Maggie waited just outside the door. His sense of humor was a surprise, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“You find anything?” Her breath came out in puffy clouds as she called in after him.

“Yeah. Hang on.” A few things rattled and banged as he rearranged articles, pulling things free. Maggie caught a glimpse of his backside as he bent to pick something up from the floor. She stepped away from the door. He was becoming far too alluring and she had to keep her head.

“Incoming!”

She sidestepped quickly as a pair of snowshoes came flying out. When he emerged, cobwebs clung to his coat and hat. She resisted the temptation to reach up and brush them away. Touching him would be a big no-no. She was at least self-aware enough to understand that much.

He proudly held a pair of cross-country skis in one hand and the poles in the other.

“Did you find the boots?”

“Hang on.” He pitched the skis in the snow and went back inside, returning with a dusty pair of black boots with square toes. “Size eleven and a half. Should fit all right, even if I double my socks.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.