man thrust out a huge damp hand that, just a moment ago, had been curled around Ariel’s upper arm. Then he said the last thing she expected. “I’m Dr. Rex Houston, CDC.”
3
SHE DIDN’T MOVE A MUSCLE, not even to take his hand. And to be honest, Rex didn’t want her to. The way she was standing, with her back to the sun, he was enjoying how the rays shone through her skirt, illuminating a great pair of legs. Blood surged in his groin, and he could only hope she’d get him checked into his room before he started sporting a full-service erection. Maybe this trip to Bliss was going to work out better than he’d thought.
After all, this had been the longest stretch without sex he’d ever endured in his adult life. Wishing he’d grabbed a towel at poolside—less to dry than cover himself—he tried to train his mind on something other than the woman in front of him.
Not that he could. He just wished she didn’t remind him of Janet. Just like Janet, Ariel Anderson had a small-town, girl-next-door kind of appeal. She was fair, with perfect skin, and eyes as clear, big and blue as the crystal waters of the spring below. Her hair was drawn back, in a way that on another woman would have been called severe, but that didn’t mar her features in the least, but instead enhanced them. She didn’t wear much, or need, makeup. And that fresh-faced look, coupled with a tall, thin, leggy body clad in see-through clothes was doing him in.
As if coming to her senses, she took his hand, making him wonder just how long he’d been standing there with it extended. Minutes? Time seemed to have slowed. As her long, slender fingers traced the back of his hand, he offered a squeeze that sent heat dancing through him.
“Look,” she began as she abruptly headed past him and toward the house, gesturing for him to follow. “I know Elsinore called you, but we really don’t need the CDC….”
He wasn’t sure what annoyed him most—her determination to push things in an all-business direction, or the fact that the nutty old bat who’d phoned the CDC was still on their heels, which meant he wasn’t alone with Ariel.
Just looking at her, he felt all tangled up inside. Maybe he even wanted her because she was so much like Janet. As much as he hadn’t wanted to take it personally, seeing his fiancée with the chef had been a blow to his ego. As Ariel breezed through a French door, he caught the edge and held it open for her and Elsinore.
“Thanks,” both said over their shoulders.
“No problem.” It was only Ariel’s voice he’d really heard. She had a remarkable voice. Low and throaty, it was the sort that a man expected to find in bars, back alleyways and cathouses…in forbidden corners that catered to the midnight side. It sounded like she’d smoked too many cigarettes and drunk too much booze, although Rex was sure she’d never touched either.
They’d reached the staircase when an elderly woman appeared, wearing an apron over a black dress. She was short, probably just five feet, if that, and about seventy years of age. Apparently, three women lived here—he’d gleaned that much from guests at the pool—Ariel’s mother, her grandmother and her great grandmother. Thankfully, at least one of them cooked. The house had filled with the aroma of food.
“Ariel!” the elderly woman was saying as she rushed forward, spatula in hand, and encased her in a quick, tight hug. “We’ve been waiting for your arrival for hours.”
“Hi, Gran.” Ariel kissed her cheek, then glanced toward the French doors again. “Uh…what’s going on?” she continued, stepping back. “I thought I saw Mom, swimming down in the spring, and Great-gran was in town. Since both your cars are here, I couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten there—”
“It’s a long story,” her grandmother said. “Everything went haywire today! We went to talk to Sheriff Underwood about Matilda’s book. I guess you know him by the name of Studs, since you’re the same age. And you know how we hate to go to town.”
Ariel’s mind strained to keep pace with her grandmother’s monologue. With a nearly naked man beside her, especially one who’d felt so good pressed against her, it was difficult. “Are there any leads?”
“The sheriff found a red bandanna near the safe, and there were dog prints outside. I think he was going to question Pappy Pass, today, since his dog, Hammerhead, usually has a red bandanna tied around his neck.”
“Pappy would never—”
“I think his grandson, Jeb, might be the culprit. Youngsters may have wanted to take the book for a lark. You know how they do. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all. We’re all beside ourselves with worry, as I’m sure you are, too. It’s one of our dearest possessions and two centuries old.”
“Surely whoever took it knows it’s valuable.”
“I hope. If anything happens to that book, it will be so upsetting. We’ve just got to find it before the Harvest Festival, otherwise we’ll have to make all our tea blends by memory, and…” Her voice trailed off and she laughed, her eyes twinkling as she patted her granddaughter’s cheek lovingly. “As old as we’re getting, I hate to think what might happen if we made up love blends from memory, then tried to sell them.”
“Lord have mercy,” whispered Elsinore, speaking for the first time. “If your potions got jumbled, that really would be terrible, wouldn’t it? All the wrong people would be falling in love, and so forth.”
“Why, Elsinore, I didn’t see you,” said Ariel’s grandmother. “Come into the kitchen with me. Let me pour you some sun tea. I made it during the day with fresh springwater. It’ll cool you off while Ariel takes this gentleman upstairs to get him settled. As soon as Ariel’s mother comes in from her dip, she can run you back down the mountain and pick up Great-gran.” Gran nodded toward the staircase. “That’s your duffel?”
Rex nodded.
She inclined her chin. “Everybody calls me Gran,” she said. “So, you can, too. All the women in the house used to use proper names, but the guests can’t remember. So we just have them call us Mom, Gran and Great-gran. It lends a homey feel, and nobody has to struggle too hard to remember things such as Samantha, Sylvia and Christina.” She chuckled. “Now, the locals know our first names,” she added. “And before anyone tells you otherwise, you should also know that some of the young kids in town believe we’re witches.”
“You certainly look like one,” he agreed.
She smiled, delighted. “Whatever the case, it’s good for business.”
“You might want to throw in a ghost.”
“I’ll consider it,” she assured. “Now, you two skedaddle. Even as it is, dinner’s going to be late. And before you ask, I don’t want help in the kitchen, Ariel. Your job is to entertain the new guest until dinner.” The elderly woman flashed him a wide smile. “Ariel will take care of your every need. I can assure you of that, sir.”
Trying not to take the words as a double entendre, Rex felt glad the sun had dried him well enough that he wasn’t dripping on the woman’s floor. “Sorry I’m not dressed,” he apologized, glancing around at the stately living room, with its hardwood floors, Chinese rugs, marble-top tables and chandelier. “But when I couldn’t check in…”
“You won’t be punished this time,” Gran assured with mock severity. “But next time, we’ll bring
