told her there was more to Killian Shawnessy than met the eye. And whatever that something was, she intended to find out.
For now she’d wait. And while she was waiting, there was no reason not to enjoy the scenery.
She breathed in the scent of pine and damp leaves that drifted on the evening breeze. It had finally cooled down, and the air was comfortable, fresh and soft from the storm. Crickets came to life with their rhythmic night music, and bullfrogs joined in as background chorus.
This was as far from the city as a person could get, Cara thought, letting herself relax against the porch rail. No bumper-to-bumper traffic, no police sirens, no screaming arguments from the married couple in the apartment next to hers.
The quiet was wonderful, she told herself. Exactly what she needed.
It was going to drive her crazy.
She needed sound. Horns honking, the pounding beat of rock and roll, the blare of a television set. She’d been raised with noise, lots of it, and loud. She needed it to unwind, especially after a day like the one she’d had. But there was no TV, not even a radio in the cabin, and she’d have to settle for crickets and frogs.
A shower would help, and she decided to risk a quick one. She figured she had at least another hour before Shawnessy showed up, and it would be easier to face him if she were clean and dressed in something other than military fatigues. A suit of armor, maybe.
She jumped at the sound of the phone ringing from inside the cabin, then hurried to answer it, locking the door securely behind her. She doubted a simple lock would keep Shawnessy out, but it might give her an extra couple of seconds to compose herself when he finally showed up. She almost laughed out loud at that thought. She’d had more than an hour and she wasn’t ready to face the man. A couple of seconds would hardly matter.
She grabbed the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Cara?” Margaret’s voice was heavy with concern. “Are you all right, dear? Peter and I were worried when you didn’t call earlier.”
“I’m fine,” she replied, though that wasn’t completely truthful. “But I’m afraid there’s been a little change in our plans.”
Tanner’s Tavern was dark and smoky. The gravelly wail of a country-western singer poured from a corner jukebox, while a pinball competition brought whoops and hollers from three men crowded around the clanging, lightsflashing machines at the back of the bar.
Lucas Blackhawk was bent over the cue ball, eyes narrowed while he set up his shot.
“Hey, Lucas.” Nick casually chalked his cue on the opposite side of the table. “Did I mention that Ian was entertaining a beautiful woman in his cabin when I stopped by this afternoon?”
Lucas pitched forward, miscued and sank the cue ball. He glanced up sharply from the pool table. “What did you say?”
Ian tightened his hand around the cue stick he held and did his best to ignore the two sets of dark eyes focused on him. He’d known it was coming, of course. He’d been waiting for Nick to razz him about this afternoon ever since Lucas walked in thirty minutes ago. Ian was only surprised Nick had waited so long, but realized that he’d been waiting until Lucas was about to sink the game ball. Five bucks was five bucks, after all.
And now he’d never hear the end of it.
“A woman,” Nick repeated. “As in female. As in dropdead gorgeous. As in hot.”
Ian moved to rack the balls, thought about slipping the wooden triangle over Nick’s head and twisting. “Shut up, Santos.”
Lucas straightened slowly and lifted one brow. “No kidding. So who is she?”
Ian knew they wouldn’t go away if he ignored them, and besides, from past experience, he knew that the more evasive he was, the more curious they would be.
“No one you know.” Ian scooped up the balls and dropped them into the rack. “She’s on vacation, renting the cabin next to mine, and we ran into each other by the lake.”
Nick leaned closer to Lucas. “He tried to get rid of me before she came out of the bathroom dripping wet.”
Both brows raised now, Lucas stared at Ian. “Dripping wet?”
“We got caught in the storm,” Ian said through clenched teeth. “She was drying off in the bathroom, that’s all. She was fully clothed, for God’s sake.”
She had been fully clothed, Ian recalled, but her tank top had been tight over her full breasts, and she would have won a wet-T-shirt contest hands down. He forced the image from his mind, replaced it with the memory of her crushing her boot into his foot. It still throbbed.
Nick grinned. “She called him honey and darling.”
Lucas’s jaw went slack. “Ian’s only been in town three days and he’s already got himself a woman in his little mountain hideaway? You’re putting me on.”
Nick raised three fingers. “Scout’s honor. Her name’s Cara Sinclair. Blond hair, green eyes and a body that would make you—”
“Shut up, Santos,” Ian warned. “And for a man who’s getting married, you sure noticed a hell of a lot.”
“A beautiful woman walks out of your bathroom and I’m not supposed to notice?” Nick leaned on his cue stick and gave a snort of disbelief. “Besides, I had to pay attention. Lucas wasn’t there to share in the moment, and I figured he’d want details.”
“Lucas has better things to do than listen to you yammer on about something that was nothing.” Ian moved around the table to break. They weren’t going to let this drop, he thought irritably. One more reason to dislike Miss Cara Sinclair.
“I haven’t got anything better to do,” Lucas said. “Julianna went with Maggie for their final fittings on their dresses, and they took the twins.” Lucas grinned at Ian. “So she really called you honey?”
Ian broke hard and the balls exploded against the table’s cushions. “Both of you can either put a sock in it and play pool, or I can leave and you two sweethearts can bat your eyes at each other and fantasize some more about my love life.”
“He’s jealous because she recognized me,” Nick whispered loudly to Lucas. “She told me she’s a fan of mine, and that she thinks I’m amazing.”
“That does it.” Ian threw his cue on the table, as annoyed with his friends as he was with himself for letting them get to him. “I’ve got better things to do than stand around here playing games with you girls.”
“I’ll bet you do,” Nick said cheerfully. “And don’t worry, I’ll call before I stop by next time, lover boy.”
Ian’s response was simple and earthy, and Nick merely laughed. Ian decided he’d let them get it out of their system without him around. He stomped out of the bar into the parking lot toward the truck Nick had loaned him to drive for the two weeks he was visiting. The pickup was old, the paint worn, but the engine had been rebuilt. From a stop light he could leave a Porsche behind, reading his license plate.
He
