rats, rats.
And then her gaze landed on the window.
Hmmm. Small opening, but she was petite.
Cammie Jo climbed up on the sink and leaned over to raise the window. She stuck her head out and peered down.
Yipes!
The ground was farther away than she expected. Never mind that directly underneath the ladies’ washroom window sat a row of sturdy, metal, bear-proof garbage cans that looked as if they could skin a girl something nasty.
Cammie Jo pulled back, and mulled over her choices. She could take a header, or more precisely, a footer out the window, or she could face Mack again.
Which was easier to do?
She closed her eyes briefly and wished for the totem.
If wishes were nuts and cherries we’d all have a Merry Christmas, Aunt Kiki was fond of saying, although Cammie Jo had never quite understood the adage. Herself, she’d always wanted clothes and toys for Christmas, not nuts and cherries.
“Camryn?” Kay’s voice called to her from the outer room. “Are you in there? Mack’s looking for you.”
Ulp. It was now or never.
Cammie Jo dangled her legs over the window ledge, took a deep breath and jumped, stiletto heels and all.
5
WHAT ON EARTH had happened to her? Mack wondered as he paced the corridor, hands clasped behind his back.
Damn his tendency to jump in with both feet when he wanted something, never mind that he could be barreling off a cliff.
He needed to amend his “wife” list. Under “likes to be spoiled,” he was adding, “not a flight risk.”
Kay reappeared a few minutes after she had gone inside the ladies’ room to look for Camryn. Mack raised his head, and gazed at her expectantly.
“She’s not in there.”
“What do you mean she’s not in there? I saw her go in with my own eyes.”
“I checked all the stalls. No one is in there.”
“You’re covering for her,” Mack accused.
“Why Mack McCaulley, are you calling me a liar?” Kay settled her hands on her hips and gave him a mischievous grin.
Contrite, he said, “No, Kay, of course not.”
“I will tell you that the bathroom window was hanging open.”
“You think she climbed out the window?”
Kay shrugged. “Looks like it. What did you do to her?”
“Me? I didn’t do anything.”
“Camryn’s missing after slipping off alone with you. You Alaskans have the tendency to go after what you want pell-mell. Maybe you were moving too quickly for her.”
“Then why didn’t she just say so?” Exasperated, Mack jammed his hands in his pocket.
“You’ll have to ask Camryn that question.”
“Right. And how can I do that when I don’t know where she is?”
“She’s staying at Jake’s.”
Just forget her, McCaulley. There’s millions more fish in the sea. Look around you.
But part of him could not so easily dismiss Camryn without a valid explanation for her behavior. And he really wanted to apologize if he’d upset her in any way.
He left the community center and walked across the street to Jake’s B&B. He pushed through the door into the lobby, then went over to the front desk where he found the desk clerk, crotchety old Gus, sitting on a stool reading some true-crime paperback with a lurid cover.
“Hey, Gus.”
Gus grunted and barely looked up from his book.
“You have a guest by the name of Camryn Josephine staying here. Would you tell me her room number?”
“We don’t give out that kinda information.”
“Come on, Gus, you know me.”
“Yeah, and you’re a rascal, McCaulley. I don’t trust ya.”
“That was twenty-five years ago, Gus.” The elderly man gave him grief about his long-ago transgression whenever he could.
“I gotta long memory.”
“Obviously. I apologize profusely. I was a terrible kid. Now would you at least ring her room for me?”
“You ain’t got a chance with that one. She’s too smart for the likes of you.”
“That’s what you said about Quinn and Kay and you were wrong on that score, too.”
Gus snorted, put down his paperback and dialed Camryn’s room. He waited a few minutes then hung up the receiver. “She ain’t answering.”
Gus went back to his book and Mack turned away.
Where could Camryn be? The woman had disappeared like smoke up a flue.
Sighing, he walked through the lobby and plunked down on a chair in Jake’s great room where the guests and locals often congregated. Tonight, the room was empty save for that mousy woman with the Coke-bottle glasses.
What was her name again? Tammie Jo? Maybe she’d seen Camryn come through here.
He got up and stepped over to where she sat curled up on the sofa by the low-level fire. She was reading a copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Her hair was pinned to her head in that unflattering bun and she wore a fluffy pink chenille bathrobe and outlandish Bugs Bunny house slippers. Somehow he wasn’t surprised at her silly getup. There was a half-empty glass of milk in front of her and a plate of cookie crumbs.
Party on, Tammie Jo.
He perched on the edge of the heavy cedar coffee table in front of her. “Hello, there.”
She kept her head tucked down, her eyes glued to her book. She was as bad as Gus. What was this? Blow off McCaulley night?
“Remember me?”
She nodded, still not glancing at him.
“You been sitting here long?”
She shrugged. Was she so shy she couldn’t even look at him? He recalled their encounter in the upstairs hallway. She’d acted pretty spirited then. Maybe it took sexy underwear and provocative talk to bring out the vixen in
