entered with her. Clearly familiar with the room, it sniffed daintily at a floorboard near the window, tail stiffly extended. Maggie, who loved cats, smiled and bent to scratch behind the furry ears. The cat purred loudly and rubbed against Maggie’s leather boot.
“You’re brother and sister,” Doug Evans was saying behind her in the sitting room. His deep voice sounded warm and thoughtful.
“It’s really funny, that you thought we were married,” Terry told the man.
“Why?” Doug asked.
“Well, I don’t know what kind of man would ever win my sister’s hand,” Terry said, “but he’d have to be a lot different guy than I am. A billionaire industrialist or a Texas land baron, maybe.”
“Indeed?” the host said. His voice was still solemn, but Maggie could now detect a note of teasing. “So your sister prefers wealthy men?”
Alarmed by this turn of conversation, she returned to the sitting room and gave her brother a stern glance. But Terry was clearly enjoying himself and, as usual, paid her no attention.
“No, I don’t think Maggie’s particularly attracted to money,” he told the Scotsman, “but she’s fond of strength.” He gestured at the coat of arms above the small fireplace, topped by a bit of tartan and a pair of ornamental crossed swords. “You know, maybe she’d even go for some kind of warrior chieftain,” he suggested with a grin.
“Do ye really think so, then?” the man asked, his burr deepening. He cast Maggie another glance, his green eyes dancing.
“That’s quite enough,” Maggie said firmly. “Terry, I’m sure Mr. Evans has no interest in speculation about my love life, or lack thereof.”
Nervous and confused under those sparkling eyes, she rummaged through her shoulder bag and withdrew five dollars, offering the bill to the dark-haired man by the door.
“Thank you for helping with the bags,” she said politely.
He glanced at the money, then looked down at her again, his jaw tightening a little.
Maggie realized, too late, that she’d made a mistake, but she was too rattled to back down.
“Please,” she said, holding the bill while the little girl and the cat pressed up against the man’s legs. All three stood watching Maggie solemnly. “You carried all those bags upstairs for us.”
“You and your brother are very welcome here, Maggie,” the man said quietly, making her feel even more ridiculous, almost like a child being scolded.
“But it’s not our policy to accept payment for assisting our guests.”
He turned with quiet dignity and left the room with Moira and Dundee at his heels.
Maggie went to the doorway and watched as he strode along the hallway. His shoulders looked wide and strong, and his hips were lean and hard under the faded denim jeans.
“Well, that’s great.” She came back into the room and closed the door. “A Scottish cowboy with lofty moral principles. Just what we need to complicate things even more than they already are.”
Her brother watched her with interest. “The guy really gets to you. Doesn’t he, Maggie?”
She shrugged and took off her jacket, then massaged her shoulders wearily. “I’m a little worried about that lord-of-the-manor attitude. This man’s going to be trouble for us, Terry. I can just feel it.”
“Trouble for you, maybe.” Terry removed his shoes and reclined on one of the couches, stretching contentedly. “I have nothing to do with this whole crackbrained scheme, remember? I’m just along to drive the car and provide technical support.”
“And to escape the paint fumes and sawdust in your apartment.” Maggie sprawled opposite him in a big overstuffed chair and tugged off her leather boots. “Are you sorry you came?”
“Somebody has to look after you, kid. Especially when Natasha’s being so irrational.”
“Look after me!” She smiled at him. “When you’re this deep into a book, you hardly even know where you’re living, even when your place is being renovated. I’ll bet a houseful of carpenters would hardly have bothered you.”
“I have two hundred pages left to write, Maggie,” he said, suddenly serious. “I need peace and quiet to finish the book. And this town certainly looks peaceful enough.”
“But you really don’t approve of what Natasha’s doing here, do you?” Maggie continued to watch her brother thoughtfully.
“Approve? You’ve got to be kidding. I think it’s the craziest thing I ever heard of. And so do you,” he added shrewdly.
“It’s what Natasha wants.” Maggie sighed and stretched her feet, wiggling her toes in relief.
“Well,” Terry said with a grin, “that would explain the craziness.”
“Look, what can I do, tell her she’s being completely irrational?”
“I think that’s a major part of Natasha’s problem.” Terry’s pleasant face turned thoughtful. “Nobody’s ever refused her anything in her whole life. Imagine what it must be like to have a hundred million dollars and everybody in the world falling all over themselves to fulfill your smallest whim. Anybody’s view of life would get a little distorted.”
Maggie watched him for a moment, then shook her head and dug into a leather briefcase. She took out a bulky file folder and sat back to leaf through it.
“Here it is,” she said at last.
“What?” He rolled his head on the chintz cushion to glance at her.
“Douglas Evans,” she said, reading aloud from a sheet of paper. “Hotel proprietor, mayor, real estate salesman and stockbroker. Thirty-five years old, bachelor, lives in a suite of rooms on the main floor of the hotel. Arrived in Texas more than six years ago from his native Scotland and immediately applied for a green card, became a naturalized citizen two years later. Rumored to be independently wealthy, and a passionate booster of Crystal Creek. More in love with the town, it appears, than many of the natives.”
“He sounds like a very nice guy,” Terry commented. “I like him.”
Maggie stared at the paper, feeling a rising concern when she thought about the stern look on Doug Evans’s handsome face after she’d offered him that money.
The man had seemed almost disappointed in her. But of course, that was ridiculous. He didn’t even know her.
“I knew he was going to be trouble,” she said again. “He’s the mayor, Terry, I wonder how much influence he has around here. Maybe I should…”
“It makes me nervous when you get that look in your eye,” her brother commented, smiling at her. “Keep reading the file, Maggie. What does it say about those two kids, and the sister?”
Maggie consulted the paper again. “Sarah Rose Murdoch, arrived from Scotland almost a year ago on a visitor’s visa, which apparently is near expiry. Rose helps
