The cardboard container flipped over and fell, scattering several photos along the old oak flooring of the corridor beneath her. Holding on for dear life, Julie prayed she wouldn’t meet the same fate.
“Whoa!” Strong, muscular arms settled around her waist and guided her down the ladder. “You okay? You almost took a nasty tumble.” A man’s deep voice rumbled gently against the back of her neck, his breath warm on her cheek. Gently turning her around in his arms, his gaze connected with hers. Familiar steel-blue eyes widened in surprised recognition. “Julie?”
Swallowing hard, her gaze flew to the familiar face of her college sweetheart, Zach Marshall. She forgot about the storm thundering overhead, the murder at the inn and the narrow escape of falling from the ladder. Her heart reeled with a sudden rush of sweet memories.
Zach’s good looks, tall lean body and mischievous grin had attracted her initially all those years ago. But his honesty and charm had won her heart. One slow smile from Zach and she was over the moon. And when he kissed her…
“Julie!” Chuckling lightly, a slow grin lit his face. “Is it really you?”
Julie swallowed and fought to still the dizziness as the passageway began to swirl around her. She blinked and cleared her mind, yet there he was standing before her. “Z-Zach?”
“Yeah,” he answered, chuckling again. “I never thought I’d run into anyone I knew…way out here.” His intense gaze held hers. “Hey, you sure you’re all right?” he asked, his voice deep and low. “You’re shaking.”
“Yes.” He stood merely inches away, his strong arms still lightly placed around her waist. Her hands rested on his cotton shirt. His steady heartbeat pulsed against her fingers. “I’m fine,” she managed, gazing into his eyes.
He let her down until she stood on solid ground. Slowly lowering her hands from Zach’s hard, muscular chest, she pulled her gaze from his and turned toward the loud, clattering sound of approaching footsteps.
“What on earth?” Beatrice, Julie’s British lodge manager, stood in the hallway. Placing both hands on her ample hips, she glanced up toward the attic door. “What were you doing up there?” she asked with a nod of her head. “You know it’s haunted,” she added, fixing a stern look at Julie.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Beatrice.” Yet Julie wondered. She stole a glance at Zach, half-tempted to touch him again and make sure he wasn’t an illusion from her past. She pressed a hand to her lips. He really was here. But why?
Beatrice hurried to collect the loose photographs that lay scattered across the floor. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Yes, I’m fine. Really,” Julie insisted, though she felt as if she might keel over when she noticed the subject of the pictures lying faceup on the floor.
Zach. On his Harley.
“What madness sent you up that ancient ladder anyway dressed up the way you are? And during a storm, no less.” Beatrice clucked her tongue in disapproval and placed the pencil she’d been holding into her curly, gray hair.
“I…had some things to take care of.” Julie smoothed her long, black skirt. She couldn’t blurt out she was looking for clues to the murder. Not in front of Zach. Or anyone.
“You should have asked for help,” Beatrice admonished. “You could’ve fallen. We’ve had enough accidents around here lately.” As she spoke, she flipped through the photographs in her hand. Eyes wide, she looked back and forth from the old pictures to Zach, then stood, transfixed.
For the first time Julie could remember, Beatrice appeared speechless. Julie’s gaze focused on the photographs in Beatrice’s hand. She remembered with vivid accuracy the day she took those pictures—Zach on his bike moments before he proposed and then sped away.
Out of her life. Forever.
Until today.
Glancing at Beatrice and placing a finger to her lips, Julie realized that her friend recognized him as the man in the photos. Would she at least have the common sense and decency to keep her mouth shut?
“Let me grab that for you,” Zach offered. He reached for the overturned carton on the floor. “It looks heavy.”
“No!” Julie and Beatrice exclaimed in unison, exchanging frantic glances.
Zach’s eyes narrowed. “You sure?”
“Yes.” Julie cleared her throat. “I can manage it.” Brushing remnants of cobwebs from her ice-pink cashmere sweater set, Julie gave her friend and coworker a warning look.
Beatrice raised an eyebrow in response. “You should take some time off.” She stole another glance at Zach and the pictures she held in her hand. “After all, you are the owner. You certainly deserve a break. Especially after everything that’s happened around here the past few weeks.” She eyeballed Zach again.
“I’m fine…really,” Julie croaked. She bit her lower lip. “No need to take the day off.” Surely, Beatrice knew not to utter a word about the murder or that Zach was the man in the photos. How embarrassing. Didn’t she have any sense of privacy?
Though the lodge couldn’t afford the extra cost, Julie had insisted on paying a security guard for the safety of the guests. Besides the police, she and Beatrice were the only ones who knew about the crime.
Beatrice just happened to be there when Julie came stumbling into the office in her bloodstained sweats early on that awful morning. Blood on her hands, too, from when she tried to awaken Paul, in vain.
Soon after, the police had discreetly arrived, not wanting to alarm the guests, yet questioning several of them. The detectives said that maintaining a low profile was vital to the ongoing investigation. But keeping the brutal slaying quiet weighed heavily on Julie’s nerves. She didn’t like it.
Still holding the snapshots in a death grip, Beatrice placed both hands on her hips again. “I shall speak with you later,” she added in her very proper British accent. She turned and started down the long corridor.
“Wait!” Catching up with her, Julie gently took the photos of Zach from Beatrice’s hands. “I’ll take those.” Whispering lightly she added, “Not a word!” and marched back to the troublesome box before Zach could get a look at its contents.
“Well then,” Beatrice said after a moment. “I guess I’ll leave you to your…guest.” She gave Zach a fleeting glance, turned on her heel and stalked away.
Julie and Zach faced each other. A silent moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. The storm and the murder weren’t the only mystifying elements causing her pulse to race. His tall, powerful physique, black leather jacket and well-fitted jeans added several extra beats to her already fluttering heart.
Her mind drifted back eight years. She saw herself riding with him on his motorcycle, her arms tightly wrapped around his waist. Memories of his clean, masculine scent—flashbacks of Zach wearing the very same leather jacket he wore today—filled her senses. Julie felt the distinct memory of his lips against hers. Images of their private picnic spot at Hurricane Ridge filled her mind with thoughts she should have forgotten, even as a chill of awareness prickled her spine.
She’d been so young. Only twenty-one. Yet
