the woman enquired.
As he turned at the sound, Samantha quickly stepped back into the shadows.
“Will! What are you doing out here?”
The woman was dressed to kill and was obviously their hostess, Katherine Ashley. If her pinched tone and the frown on her face were any indication, she wasn’t happy to see Will out here in the dark.
Samantha had a feeling Katherine Ashley would be even less happy to find him out here in the dark with an uninvited guest, especially one who was here to bust two of her invited guests. Seeing her chance, Samantha edged along the doorway in the dark and ducked behind the potted plant she’d bumped into earlier. Quietly she slipped into the unlit library.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Will,” she heard Katherine Ashley say. “I want you to meet the woman I told you about.”
“I’ve already met—”
Samantha glanced back from the darkness of the library and saw him turn to introduce her. She felt a tug of regret as she saw his surprise to find her gone. Surprise—and disappointment?
She grimaced as she was smacked with a good strong jolt of guilt. Will Sheridan had come along just when she’d needed him. She hated to think what might have happened if she’d been caught alone outside the library by the men she’d photographed. He’d saved her bacon. Not to mention the added bonus of his kiss. Under other circumstances—
She put the thought out of her head. Although it had never come up before, she never got romantically involved while on a case.
She made her way back to the rock wall where she’d started, and, checking to make sure the coast was clear, slipped off her heels, wriggled up her dress and shimmied over the stones again. As she dropped to the expanse of manicured lawn that stretched between her and the road where her Mustang convertible was hidden in a clump of trees, she heard the silk rip again. This time all the way to her thigh.
Holding the dress up around her hips and her heels, she jogged barefoot through the darkness to the car. Once behind the wheel, she tossed her heels into the back seat and picked up her cell phone.
“I’ve got the photos,” she said the moment the line was answered. “You’re info was right about the commissioner. He is selling construction bids.”
“Good work. That didn’t take long. I assume it was uneventful?”
Absently she ran her tongue over her lips. “You know how these parties are.”
“Send me the film, and I’ll take it from here.”
She hung up, suddenly anxious to get moving. The ball was over. It was time for Cinderella to get home.
Too bad she hadn’t left the prince a glass slipper so he could find her again. Instead, she’d given him a false name and disappeared on him. Some princess she was.
Well, if she ever saw him again— Like there was any chance of that. She didn’t even live in the same city, and definitely didn’t travel in the same circles.
“So long, Will Sheridan,” she whispered as she pulled away and glanced in her rearview mirror. The road behind her was empty. What had she expected, Will to come after her?
Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she picked up the phone again and checked her messages. With a little luck, she might be able to sleep in tomorrow, since she had a long drive ahead of her tonight.
“Sam—?”
Her heart began to pound at the once oh-so-familiar voice on her machine.
“It’s Lucas.”
As if he had to tell her. On key, her heart began to ache. Funny, but even after all these years just the sound of him could still make her hurt. Lucas. She swore under her breath and almost missed the rest of his message.
“I need your help, Sam. I’m in trouble. I need you to look after—”
She heard a noise in the background. Then silence.
She stared at the phone in disbelief. She hadn’t even realized he knew where to find her. And now, after all these years and everything that had happened, Lucas had the nerve to call her out of the blue and say, “Hey, I’m in trouble. I need your help. Look after—” After what? His dog? His cat? His boat? His finances? Her heart began to beat harder. Oh God, surely he wasn’t going to say his son? Zack? But why call her? Why not call Zack’s mother?
She dialed Seattle information, got Lucas’s home number and called it. The line rang and rang.
She hung up, unable to shake the scared feeling that had settled around her heart. Distracted, she barely noticed the dark-colored van that pulled out after her a few blocks from the party.
Normally, she could lose herself behind the wheel. Especially in the convertible with the top down. But on the five-hour drive home to Butte, not even speed, the cool fall night or letting her hair down could keep her from thinking about the party, Will Sheridan, the kiss and Lucas’s call.
When she pulled into her driveway a little after 2:00 a.m., she saw in the headlights that something was terribly wrong. The front door of her small house stood open. She pulled her .357 from beneath the seat and carefully opened the car door.
The night was black, the shadows hunkering in the bushes around the house even blacker. A deathly quiet hung over the neighborhood. Not even the dog down the street barked.
As she padded barefoot to the front door, she raised the weapon, bracing herself for whatever might be waiting inside. The place had been ransacked. She wasn’t overly neat, but she could see the damage the moment she stepped in. A faint light leaked out of the kitchen, spilling across the cluttered floor.
She swore under her breath. Why would someone do this? It wasn’t as if she had much of value to steal. Behind her, through the still-open doorway, she heard a car engine. She turned in time to see a dark-colored van cruise by. It was too dark to see the driver, not that she paid that much attention. The van continued on down the street, the sound of its engine dying away as she turned back to her vandalized house.
She quickly searched the two floors. Nothing seemed to be missing, not that she could really tell in all this mess. The thing was, whoever had broken in hadn’t bothered with her TV, stereo, VCR or the two good paintings she’d purchased for the living room. That about covered everything of value.
Once sure the burglar was not inside, she locked up and dialed 911, requesting her father, knowing she was in for a lecture on security systems.
She had barely hung up from talking with him when the phone rang, making her jump. Trying to still her racing pulse, she picked up the receiver, expecting to hear Lucas’s voice.
“Samantha?”
Talk about déjà vu. Another blast from the past. Memories drifted over her like confetti—bright-colored vivid flashes of the past. Almost all of it painful.
“Cassie?”
It had been years since she’d heard from her former college roommate. Not since Cassie’s wedding to Lucas. Certainly not since Cassie’s divorce from Lucas a
