returned her smile. It was impossible not to. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
* * *
So far, so good. The house was amazing. All glass and natural wood, it perched above the rock face, jutting out over the lake so every room seemed to be suspended above the water.
“It’s amazing.” Laurie stood at the full-length glass wall in the kitchen while Cameron made coffee. She had used the towel he gave her to get the worst of the lake water out of her hair. When it dried, she would look like a wild woman, but that couldn’t be helped. She was here, inside Cameron Delaney’s house. She’d take successful over well groomed any day. “Who designed it?”
He paused, and she wondered if he was about to tell her the truth. She already knew the answer to her question, of course. Carla Bryan had been one of several architects to submit plans for this beach house. The youngest and most inexperienced, she’d won the contract and Cameron’s heart at the same time. It had all been in the file. The one Laurie had spent the last few weeks painstakingly memorizing.
“The ideas were mine. It just needed a professional to bring them to life. Cream and sugar?”
They took their drinks through to a large family room with floor-to-ceiling windows that opened onto a wraparound deck overlooking the lake. Furnished in colors reminiscent of the pine forest outside, the room managed to be elegant and comfortable at the same time. Tucking her legs under her, Laurie curled into one corner of a big, comfortable sofa.
“Are you warm enough now?”
She nodded. His sweater had done the trick. And it smelled delicious. Some sort of expensive cologne lingered in its folds. A woodsy, musky, peppery evocative scent that suited him perfectly. Because, my God, he was a stunning-looking man. Get a grip, Laurie. You knew that before you came here. It had all been in that file. No matter how hard she had tried to keep things businesslike during her research, her eyes had developed a tendency to linger a little too long over his photograph. Much in the way his gaze kept straying to her face right now. That was hardly surprising. As far as he was concerned, she was a dead woman come to life.
“You said you’re here on vacation. What job do you do?”
Keep it as close to the truth as possible. That was so important in this line of work. Like her name. If she strayed into an elaborate charade, it became too easy to slip up and get it wrong. “I’m an artist.” The freelance work she did in her spare time was a hobby rather than a career, but it had always worked well as a cover story.
His raised brows told her she’d hit a nerve. Architect. Artist. She supposed it was close enough to hurt. “Will I have seen your work?”
“Probably not. I illustrate children’s books.”
“You must be good to make a living from it.” Was this the interrogation? So soon?
Before she could respond, footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor and a voice called out, “Cam? That consignment from Pinedale...”
The man who entered the room had to be related to Cameron. The family resemblance was too strong for it to be otherwise. Mentally, Laurie reviewed the contents of the file. There was an older half brother, Vincente, and a younger brother, Bryce. Both men worked for Delaney Transportation. Assessing this man’s age in comparison with Cameron and recalling the family photographs, Laurie figured she was looking at Bryce Delaney. Her memory for detail kicked in. Twenty-eight years old. Two years younger than Cameron. An injury in Afghanistan had brought an abrupt end to a promising army career.
Whoever he was, the man stopped speaking, breaking off in midsentence when he saw Laurie, his jaw dropping in an almost comical expression of surprise. His gaze swiveled from her to Cameron and back again.
“C-Carla?”
Cameron’s eyes seemed to flash a warning message. “Bryce, this is Laurie Carter. Laurie, meet my reprobate brother.”
She smiled at Bryce, who was still gazing at her in shock. “Nice to meet you. But I can’t help thinking you mistook me for someone else.”
He ran a hand through his hair in a helpless gesture. “You look just like someone we used to know.” He cast a glance in Cameron’s direction and encountered a frown like thunder. “Sorry, but you must admit it’s uncanny. You know what? I’ve just remembered something I need to do. The Pinedale stuff can keep. Nice to meet you, Laurie.”
When he’d gone, Laurie turned to Cameron. “What was that all about?”
Knowing that, if she played her part successfully, he’d have to confront the Carla issue sooner or later—probably sooner—she’d rehearsed this conversation. It was a strange job. One that relied on her ability to play a part 24/7, while those around her had no idea of their roles. Improvisation and fast thinking, those skills were the key to survival.
Cameron rose to his feet and went to the desk that stood in a corner of the room. It looked out over the lake, and Laurie thought what a wonderful place it would be to work. Or maybe not. Maybe that view would distract from doing anything productive. Opening one of the drawers, Cameron withdrew a framed photograph. He brought it over to Laurie and, sitting next to her on the sofa, held it out.
This is it. How you react now is everything. Aware of Cameron’s eyes on her face, she took the photograph and scanned it. Although she had seen Carla Bryan’s picture many times, the resemblance still took her by surprise. She has my face. We could have been twins instead of cousins. She didn’t have to fake the widening of her eyes or the sharp intake of her breath.
“Who is this?” She raised her gaze to his face.
“Her name is Carla. She is—was—the love of my life.”
“Was?” Suddenly, Laurie wasn’t playing a part. All she was doing was reacting to the raw grief in those incredible dark eyes.
“Carla died a year ago.”
“Oh, my Lord. I’m so sorry.” Without thinking, she reached out a hand and placed it on his knee. “How did she die?”
Cameron covered her hand with his. A warm tingle of electricity spiraled from the point of his touch through to her every nerve ending. Careful, Laurie. You know feelings are not allowed in this line of work.
“I killed her.”
* * *
The lower reaches of the Stillwater Trail were popular with tourists. Higher up was for serious hikers and hunters. Starting out at the river’s edge, it wound inland and upward until it reached the highest point in the county, the treacherous climb known as Devil’s Peak. Aware she would be gone for much of the day, Laurie set out early, throwing a few snacks into her backpack before she left the rented cabin that sat just at the edge of the pine forest.
Although her mother had lived in this state for only a few years, her short married life had been happy and she’d had fond memories of her time in Wyoming. Laurie’s childhood had been filled with stories of the beauty of Stillwater. Laurie herself had always planned to visit one day. How strange it should have happened this way. She locked the cabin door. Not that there was anything inside that would give her away. She was too professional to compromise her personal safety.
If anything, her mother’s enthusiastic praise
