long it had been since she’d seen him. But then, her relationship with Rio Redtree hadn’t been based on common sense, anyway.
She had no trouble at all recalling the very first time she’d laid eyes on him, and she still couldn’t help but think that he never should have noticed her at all. She’d been a lowly freshman with a nose for art books and an outstanding ability to blend in with the scenery. Ever since she’d skipped fifth grade, she’d been the youngest kid in her class, and the smallest. That first day at Grand Springs University, among all the older college students, she’d felt totally out of place. But whether or not a heart-stoppingly handsome, slightly dangerous-looking upperclassman with a long black ponytail should have noticed her, Rio had singled her out of a hundred Spanish class students and sat down behind her. She could still remember the hair on her neck standing straight up when he’d leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
His voice had mesmerized her as surely as his words. Low, husky and as soothing as the sound of wind deep in a forest, his voice had seemed to flow over her, through her. He’d told her to not look so scared, that the first week was always the hardest. She would be fine.
She’d turned around and met his beautiful black eyes. He hadn’t smiled at her. He’d merely given her a nod to affirm what he’d said and slid back in his chair. Rio had somehow known exactly what she’d needed to hear that day. He’d seemed to possess some indefinable sixth sense for knowing when someone was feeling lost, or when they were vulnerable, or when they needed help. But she’d soon discovered a reticence about him that held him back from those very situations. It was as if he didn’t want to get involved at all. Yet, when no else did what needed to be done, he always stepped in.
That he’d so selflessly put her at ease was what had drawn her to him from that very first day. In a matter of weeks, she’d been drawn by other things as well. His patience. His insights. His persistence. He could always get her to open up, even when she didn’t think she wanted to. Once she started talking, he listened as if every word she said actually mattered to him.
As isolated as she’d felt at that time, having someone she could share her thoughts and feelings with had meant the world to her. The kids her own age had still been in high school, and because she had looked as young as she was and still lived at home, she never meshed with the college crowd. She hadn’t fit in much of anywhere that year. When she told Rio that, he told her he didn’t fit anywhere, either.
She never understood why he felt that way. When she asked him, he changed the subject and never answered. What he would talk about, though, was what was going on around them, because he was curious about everything, and about his dreams, his plans. By the end of that term, not a school day passed that they weren’t together. He had become her friend, her confidant. He’d even been the first person she’d wanted to tell when one of her drawings had placed in a school competition. She remembered running all the way across campus in the pouring rain, and when she’d flung herself into his arms, laughing, his eyes had gone from smiling to smoldering in the time it took him to lower her to the ground. He’d kissed her then. That first time. And after he’d done it again, he asked her if she had any idea what she did to him and what would happen if they didn’t stop.
She’d already been in love with him. Madly. And she still remembered exactly what she’d said. She told him she thought she did, but since she wasn’t positive, he’d have to teach her.
So he had. But not until she discovered she was pregnant did she realize that, at seventeen, she wasn’t ready for a commitment he wouldn’t want, anyway. By then, she’d learned that his plans didn’t include children. Ever. But not until she tried to contact him after Molly was born did she realize how much she didn’t know about him.
A bright white bus turned the corner, its windows reflecting patterns of sunlight and trees on its way to where she stood on the sidewalk. As it stopped in front of her to open its doors with a whoosh of air, she didn’t know which unnerved her more. The fact that she had known so little about Rio when she’d left six years ago. Or that she knew so much less about him now.
Chapter Two
Vanderbilt Park was a rectangular oasis of evergreens and rustling aspens, meandering paths and flowering gardens. The hospital complex fronted it on one side. Businesses, the courthouse and a chain of parked cars lined the rest of it.
Rio wedged his SUV between a city waterworks barricade and a landscaper’s pickup truck, did a slam dunk with the last of his coffee, then pitched the plastic cup through his window into a green City of Grand Springs trash barrel. Seconds later, with the bang of a door that had birds scattering, he was on his way to the miners memorial. It was five minutes to nine, and probably the first time in a month that he’d been on time for anything.
He could see the huge bronze of a battered miner leading a mule well before he reached it. The bench near it was empty. Rolling up his shirtsleeves, he glanced past the small mountain of fir branches and uprooted trees one of the local organizations had collected during the ongoing storm cleanup, and checked out the path leading in the opposite direction.
It took him all of ten seconds to decide nothing of interest was taking place among the teenagers near the fountain, or the young mothers watching their children in the play area. He wasn’t looking for diversion, anyway. He wasn’t even looking for a story. Between his regular police and fire beats, a staff meeting and follow-ups on yesterday’s stories, he had plenty to keep himself out of trouble today. Any spare time he could scrape up, he’d spend on the cabin he was building near Two Falls Lake. He just wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed Eve. She was the final name on his list of people known to have been in contact with Olivia Stuart that last day. If he couldn’t get a lead out of her, he had no idea where to go.
Stifling his frustration on that score, he scowled at his watch. After the hurry Eve had been in to get rid of him yesterday, he had to wonder if she’d show up at all. Just because she’d seemed willing to talk didn’t mean anything. He’d misjudged her before. He’d once believed she was different from the other people he’d let himself care about. He’d believed that he could trust her, count on her. But he’d never been more wrong.
He hadn’t been wrong about her reaction when she’d opened the door to him yesterday, though. There hadn’t been a hint of welcome in her expression. Not that he’d expected it. He’d seen caution. He’d sensed wariness. He’d even caught a fairly satisfying jolt of anxiety. What he would liked to have seen was regret.
One must never wish for another, what he would not wish twofold for himself.
Unexpected, unwanted, the elders’ ancient teaching reared from the depths of his memory. Rio gave a snort, dismissing it, then closed his eyes against the automatic rebellion. He’d abandoned so many of the old teachings over the years that tossing out one more shouldn’t matter.
The thought had scarcely nudged his conscience when his head came up. Eve was there. He knew it even before he saw her walking toward him. Though the reminder wasn’t particularly welcome, he’d always had an odd, almost feral awareness where she was concerned.
The gentle morning breeze lifted her hair away from her face, the bright sunlight turning pale gold to platinum. Small gold earrings flashed with the turn of her head. Another discreet flash caught her watch when she lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun. The motion drew the short, sleeveless shift she wore higher, drawing attention to her slender legs, until she lowered her hand and his glance moved upward once again. The crisp white fabric that skimmed her hips and small breasts didn’t define her shape. Rather, it gave subtle, intriguing hints of the enticing, feminine curves hidden beneath.
Sweetness and seduction,
