a woman ever gotten the best of him.
Not yet, at least.
ADAN DOZED WITH one eye open.
He must have finally fallen into a deep sleep only to wake up to sunshine and the smell of coffee. With a grunt, he sat up on the sofa and looked around. In the light of day, this place was cozy and comfortable even if it wasn’t much bigger than a horse stall. The room was colorful and full of little woman things—embroidery and lace, fluffy pillows and crocheted quilts, vases and picture frames. Dainty things. Which only made him feel like a stallion in a henhouse.
When he heard noise in the kitchen, he first checked his hands and feet for any ropes or tape. None there. Then he checked her for signs of a weapon. Nothing there, either. She wore a too-big flannel shirt and slim gray sweatpants and fuzzy boots. Her hair, caught up in a haphazard twist, was a loose rich auburn that burned bright in the light of day. Sophia looked earthy and right at home as she scooted around the small U-shaped efficiency kitchen.
He hitched a breath then got aggravated at himself. This woman was lying through her pretty white teeth and somehow, he had to get around all that cuteness and find the truth. He didn’t like lying women. Only reminded him of Gaylen’s absent mother, Helena. She’d lied to him from the day they’d met and she’d lied even as she’d walked out the door, never to return. Helena hadn’t wanted a baby and she sure hadn’t wanted him. She’d used him as a means to an end—to get out from under her powerful father’s thumb. Well, now she was living high on the hog with the rich man she’d always wanted. Good for her.
He missed Gaylen with the kind of ache that brought a man to his knees. He’d get home to her soon. Somehow.
Adan scowled over at the woman in the kitchen, trying to associate that pretty countenance with that of a liar.
Hard to do.
“You’re up,” she said, her smile not so sure-footed.
Adan realized he’d been staring and pushed at his hair and grunted. “Yes, and... I’m still alive.”
“Don’t worry, I thought about doing you in but decided against it since I didn’t want to drag you out there and leave you like a frozen lump.” She smiled and brought him a huge cup of steaming coffee. “I have biscuits and ham in the oven.”
Her serene attitude threw him. It was completely opposite of her skittish, worried mind-set last night. If she was hiding something she sure didn’t seem too worried about it this morning. Or maybe she’d successfully helped Pritchard escape and she was bluffing until she could figure out how to get rid of Adan. In the meantime, he’d bide his time and get some answers out of her. And watch her like a hawk.
He took the coffee with a grateful nod. “Do you always get up at the crack of dawn?”
“Most days,” she replied. “I like to work in the early light.”
He glanced around at the various forms of artwork. “So you’re an artist?”
“Yes. Mixed media.”
“Mixed what?”
She went back to the kitchen and opened the oven. “It’s just using several different ways of creating an art piece. Layering different textures and materials onto one canvas.”
“Right.”
She laughed and pointed to a big structure hanging over the fireplace. “I made that piece out of old fence boards, buttons and jewelry.”
Adan studied the piece of art and decided it did look like part of a fence. Then he saw it. “It’s the mountain. A vista.” He moved closer, amazed at the striking piece of art. “I don’t know art from Adam,” he said, “but this is real pretty.”
She smiled, obviously pleased that he’d guessed right and probably glad she’d managed to distract him. “There’s one spot down near the stream running behind the cabins where the view is incredible. I go there a lot for inspiration.”
“And so you recreated that view of the mountain with old wood and other things?”
“Yep. I go into town once or twice a month and leave a couple of pieces in the art gallery. Sometimes I go with Bettye to the arts-and-crafts shows held in several of the towns around the Ozarks and we set up a booth. She makes quilts and does embroidery on pillows and hand towels.”
That explained all the dainty stuff exploding in this room.
“Is that how you make your living?”
She stilled at that. “Yes. And I saved up before I came here.”
Okay, there it was again. A subtle evasiveness that he immediately recognized. She wasn’t telling him everything, but he only needed to know the part where Joe Pritchard came into the picture. Adan knew patience wasn’t his virtue but decided to take it easy since she was slowly opening up to him. He needed to get Pritchard and get back to Texas. First, he wanted to check on his truck and maybe move it back here near the cabins, and then he’d figure out what to do next.
He waited to see what Sophia was doing. When she started toward him with two biscuits on a plate, he stood. “I can eat that at the table.”
She shook her head. “No, here by the fire.”
“Okay.” He took the plate and stared at it for a full minute.
“Is something wrong?” she asked as she curled up in a big, broken-in leather chair, her legs tucked up under her.
“Just checking for glass or maybe poison mushrooms.”
She looked confused. “Oh, you think I’m still out to do you in?”
He sniffed at the wonderful smells coming from the plate. “Aren’t you?”
She shook her head. “If that were the case, I had all night to do it. And yet, like you said, you’re still alive.”
He leaned back and took a sip of the coffee. The taste was rich and dark and fresh, like that head of hair cascading around her face. Then he bit into the biscuit.
“Hmm, pretty good.”
“Bettye taught me how to cook,” she explained, her blue eyes going soft. “She knows how to cure ham in a smokehouse. She grew up on a farm in Alabama.”
“How’d she wind up here?”
“I’m not sure. She doesn’t like to talk about it, but I think after her husband died, she went into a deep depression. She told me once that she got in her car and drove until she found this mountain.”
“This sure must be a special place,” Adan said, his gaze taking in everything and seeing nothing out of the ordinary other than him sitting here among exotic paintings and twisted doodads eating a biscuit.
She nibbled at her own breakfast. “It’s a quiet, unassuming place. It’s peaceful and secure and...comfortable. I like
