her money was in francs, which obviously wasnât going to help her now. She counted what usable money she had, then tentatively laid out the amount that the desk clerk had entered on the printed card. If she was very, very careful, she might last two or three days before she ran out of cash.
Mattie stared at the bills Kiera had so carefully and reluctantly counted out, then looked up again. Kiera shifted uncomfortably when the other woman studied her face.
âHusband or boyfriend?â
âExcuse me?â
âHoney, I know it ainât none of my beeswax,â Mattie stated flatly. âBut itâs hard not to notice that shiner you got there.â
Instinctively, Kiera reached up and pulled her hair forward. So much for makeup. âNoâIâItâs not like that. I fell off a horse.â
Sympathy softened the harsh edges of Mattieâs eyes. âLike I said, itâs none of my beeswax. But a woman comes into my motel late at night, alone, looking like sheâs been chewed up and spit out, and I canât help it, itâs my Christian duty to ask.â
Do I really look that bad? Kiera thought, biting her lip. She glanced down at her rumpled clothes, knew her eyes were probably still red from crying, and she realized that she did look that bad.
âIf you need an ear or a shoulderâ¦â Mattie went on ââ¦I know a few things about men. I hear thereâs a few good ones around, but, honey, my experience is most of them are asses.â
At the moment, Kiera might tend to agree with that assessment but decided against encouraging the topic. âIf I could just get my key.â
âSure.â Mattie shrugged a shoulder, dropped the money into a drawer, then held out a key. âRoom 107.â
âThanks.â
âYou know,â the desk clerk said when Kiera turned. âIf you decide to stick around for a while and need a job, theyâre hiring at the hotel in town.â
âThank you, butââ
âI could put a good word in for you,â Mattie offered. âMy sister, Janet, is head of human resources. Iâm sure she could find a spot for you.â
âIâm really notââ
âYou donât even have to have any experience,â Mattie continued. âThey got all kinds of jobs open since they expanded. Between conventions and conferences and the new wedding chapel, the place is packed most of the time. I hear the new owner, Clair Blackhawk is great to work for.â
Blackhawk?
The name sucked the breath out of Kieraâs lungs. She stared at the desk clerk, had to swallow before she managed a weak reply. âBlackhawk?â
âWell, that was her name, but she got married a few weeks ago, so Iâm not sure what her last name is now. Oh, waitââ Mattie snapped her fingers ââitâs Carver. Clair Carver.â
With her heart clamoring so loudly, it was hard for Kiera to concentrate. The name Carver meant nothing to her. But Blackhawkâ¦God, was it possible? It was all she could do not to grab the desk clerkâs arm, ask her point-blank ifââ
âYou okay, honey?â
Kiera blinked, watched Mattieâs face come back into focus. âWhat?â
âYou look a little pale. You feelinâ okay?â
âItâs just been a long day.â The longest of my life, she thought, and forced a smile. âI appreciate your concern, but, really, Iâll be fine.â
Mattie nodded. âYouâre the last room on the left, just past the ice and vending machines. You need anything, just give me a call.â
âThanks.â
Knees shaking, Kiera turned and walked back to her car. She wasnât certain how long she sat there, dazed, staring blankly into the deep shadows of the poplars edging the motel. As a child, sheâd always been afraid of the dark, knew that ferocious monsters lived there, waiting to swallow children whole.
At twenty-five, maybe she was still a little afraid of the dark, she realized.
When she walked back into the motel office, Mattie glanced up from the TV.
Kiera closed the door behind her. âAbout that jobâ¦â
When Sam Prescott made his morning rounds through the lobby of the Four Winds Hotel, bellmen straightened their shoulders, desk clerks smiled brighter, valets hustled. The entire staff of Wolf River Countyâs largest and most luxurious hotel knew that nothing slipped past the general managerâs penetrating gaze. The white marble floors and vast expanse of glass windows had better sparkle, the chic black uniforms be crisp, the massive floral arrangements fresh.
The sharp, sculpted planes of Samâs face and the hard angle of his jaw played well with his thick, dark hair and deep brown eyes. It was a combination that made grown women sigh and young girls giggle. Even with his football playerâs chest and lean waist, Samâs six-foot-four inch frame wore Armani well.
A few lucky women knew he wore nothing at all even better.
Joseph McFearson, the Four Winds doorman, tipped his hat when Sam approached. âMorninâ, Mr. Prescott.â
âMorninâ, Joseph.â Joseph was one of the few employees whose heightâand eyesâdirectly met Samâs. âHowâs Isabel?â
âOn a rampage our boys donât call more often,â Joseph groused. âSays they got their fatherâs cold heart.â
Sam grinned. Everyone knew Joseph had a heart of gold, just as everyone knew that his wife adored him. âGive her my best.â
âWill do.â Joseph nodded, then added when Sam walked by, âCall your mother.â
I probably should, Sam thought, realizing he hadnât talked to her for a while. Maybe heâd just send flowers. Last time heâd called her, all heâd heard was, âSamuel, youâre thirty-two years old, when are you going to stop living in hotels and give me more grandchildren?â
âSoon as I meet a girl like you,â heâd say to placate her. He had no intention of changing his bachelor status any time soon, but he knew his mother needed hope, so he gave her that much.
His rounds complete, Sam stepped into a mirrored elevator, noted the quiet, instrumental version of McCartneyâs âBand On the Runâ playing overhead. He had a ten oâclock briefing with Clair, an eleven-thirty lunch meeting with the publicist for the Central Texas Cattlemenâs Association, then a two oâclock appointment with the city council and the Department of Building and Safety. The FourWinds
