in the formal renaming of Black Creek to Honeymoon Haven. The Black Creek Bank rose up three stories, stately and gray next to the Black Creek Grocery Store.
Mick turned into an entrance that led to the Sweetheart Suites and parked in front of the building marked as the office. As he got out of the car to go inside and get the key to their unit, Cassie looked around the general area.
Tiny mauve-colored cabins were nestled amid tall, fully leaved trees, and on the opposite side of the office was a swimming pool complete with a grotto and a waterfall.
An edge of anxiety pressed against her chest and she turned to look in the opposite direction. Cassie liked water only if it was contained in a bathtub.
For a brief moment she was thrown back in time and the water surrounded her as she flailed helplessly, going under the surface as her lungs threatened to burst. She reached the surface. The only sound she heard was her own frantic gasps for breath and her parents’ crazy laughter before the water pulled her down once again.
She now pulled in a deep breath of the fresh-scented air, sat up straighter in her seat and shook off the memory as Mick returned to the car.
“Lucky number seven,” he said and handed her the key on a heart-shaped key ring.
“This whole town feels kind of cheesy, don’t you think? All the hearts and flowers and lace kind of make me want to gag,” she said.
“Cassie, where’s your sense of romantic spirit?” he asked as he put the car into gear and headed to their cabin. “I think it’s kind of charming.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I’d never guess you for a romantic kind of guy.”
He smiled. “Actually, I love romance, I just don’t want it to mislead any woman into thinking I want anything to do with marriage.”
“We’re definitely on the same page there,” Cassie replied. “I never want to get married.”
“Never say never,” Mick replied, parking the car in front of their little cottage. “Home, sweet home, let’s grab the bags and check things out.”
Imagining a honeymoon cottage and actually being in one were two very different things, Cassie thought as the two of them entered unit seven.
It was one large room, with a king-size bed resting on a platform that made it the focal point. The bedspread looked as it had been made by a thousand lace doilies sewn together. Scattered across the top of the white lace were delicate pink rose petals.
A dresser with a flat-screen television on top sat at the end of the bed with a chair next to it. The only other furniture in the room was a love seat behind a coffee table that sported a fruit-and-muffin basket obviously intended as a continental breakfast and a bottle of champagne chilling on ice in a silver-plated bucket.
Cassie dropped her suitcases on the floor and walked over to the bathroom. She gasped as she peered inside, where a Jacuzzi tub big enough for four people sat in the center of the room. The glass-enclosed small shower, sink and stool seemed to be incidental.
“Definitely not the average motel room,” Mick said from over her shoulder.
It was Cassie’s nightmare. The room breathed of intimacy, of items and furniture placed specifically to promote sexuality and love. She was grateful when Mick stepped back from her and walked to the love seat.
He sank down and pulled out the paperwork that Sheriff Lambert had given them. He spread out the pieces of paper on the table before him.
“According to this information the three agents next door are Sam Hunter, Jacob Tyler and Bob Hastings.” He looked around the room. “Let’s see if they’re ready for us. Agent Hastings, if you can hear me, please walk outside your cabin door and let me see you.”
Together, Cassie and Mick peered out their front window to the cabin next door. The door opened and a tall blond man walked outside. He stretched with arms overhead and gave a small but perceptible nod of his head, then returned back inside his cabin.
“Okay, so we’re wired for sound,” Mick said as they both moved away from the window. “I suppose our next order of business is to get unpacked and figure out what we’re going to do with what’s left of the day.”
“I never unpack when I travel,” she said. “I prefer just living out of my suitcases.”
He gazed at her curiously. “Funny, I would have definitely pegged you for the kind of woman who has to iron and hang everything the minute you check in someplace.”
“That just goes to show you how little you know about me,” she replied. There had been far too many times in her childhood that she’d been roused in the middle of the night to run from some motel or rented room with only the clothes on her back, leaving everything she owned behind because they weren’t in a suitcase she could carry out. But she wasn’t about to share the madness of her childhood with anyone, especially Mick.
“Well, I’d better get my shirts hung up, otherwise everyone will wonder why you married such a wrinkled man.” As he began to hang his shirts in the closet just off the bathroom, Cassie thought about the clothes she had packed.
Her entire wardrobe consisted of clothing that didn’t need to be ironed, that could be pulled from a suitcase and put right on. She sank down on the love seat. She didn’t want to think about clothes.
She also didn’t want to think about sharing that big bed with Mick, surrounded by his scent, warmed by his body heat. There was no way she wanted to go there again.
What she wanted to focus on most of all was what came next in their quest of catching the eye of a killer and hopefully getting him off the streets before he killed again.
It would be nice if they’d gain his attention today and he’d try to strike at them tonight, before she had to climb into that bed with Mick.
* * *
“I THINK OUR FIRST order of business is to take a little stroll down Main Street,” Mick said once he’d hung his shirts and shorts in the closet. “A fish has to see the bait before he’ll bite on it.” He checked his watch. “We can take a stroll, visit a couple of shops and then end up having a nice intimate dinner at the Love Nest Fine Dining Restaurant.”
“Somehow it’s difficult for me to imagine love nest and fine dining in the same sentence,” she said dryly.
Mick laughed and grabbed her by the elbow. “Come on, my lovely new bride. It’s time to get to work.”
He felt the tension that radiated from her at his simple touch. As they left the cabin he released his hold on her elbow and instead grabbed her hand with his. “You’re going to have to do better than that, cupcake,” he said beneath his breath as he squeezed her cold, lifeless hand.
Her cheeks grew pink and she returned his squeeze. He knew this all was going to be difficult on her. She obviously hated him. It was like she blamed him for somehow taking advantage of her the night they’d fallen into bed together.
He wasn’t about to take on that responsibility. She might protest that she’d been drunk, but the bottle of wine had been small and she hadn’t appeared inebriated in any sense of the word. It had been mutual desire, not booze, that had driven them into bed
