of a larger hotel. They had staff for that.
Which led to her second, and definitely more frightening, thought.
Clair knows who I am.
The fist in her stomach twisted tighter.
But how could she?
Sam?
As careful as she’d been to cover her tracks, if he’d been curious enough, if he’d dug deep enough and made the right phone calls, it was possible he might have learned who she was. Maybe even why she was here. But it was doubtful. And he certainly hadn’t seemed curious. Or even interested, for that matter. In fact, for the past four days, since they’d had lunch together at Pappa Pete’s, he’d barely even looked at her. She wasn’t certain if she was relieved or disappointed.
Both, she decided.
There was no question she was attracted to the man. Butterflies-in-the-stomach attracted. Can’t-stop-thinking-about-him attracted.
Fantasy attracted.
When she least expected it, they’d sneak up on her. Those insidious little erotic daydreams. Bare, hot skin against bare, hot skin. Arms and legs intertwined. Busy hands, rushing lips. Sometimes her fantasy involved a bed, sometimes an elevator. In his office—on his desk—was her personal favorite. Sizzling, no-holds-barred sex. Wild. Frantic. Spontaneous. He was as mad for her as she was for him, reaching, gasping …
“Miss Daniels?”
She jumped at the receptionist’s voice, blinked quickly. “Yes?”
“Are you all right?” A frown wrinkled the woman’s brow. “You look a little flushed.”
Darn it! Kiera touched a hand to her cheek, felt the warmth there grow warmer still. “Do I?”
The receptionist nodded. “I heard there might be something going around.”
Knowing the effect Sam had on women, Kiera didn’t doubt there was a lot of what she had going around. “I’m fine, thank you. Really.”
“Miss Daniels, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”
Kiera froze at the sound of the feminine voice behind her. It was one thing to imagine meeting Clair, quite another to actually do it.
Breath held, heart pounding, Kiera slowly turned.
Thick, dark brown hair skimmed the shoulders of her lime-colored jacket, framed her high cheekbones and wide mouth. Her skin had the barest kiss of bronze, suggesting her obvious Native American heritage wasn’t full-blooded. And her eyes—Kiera stared at Clair’s smiling gaze—they were blue. Deep blue.
“Thank you for coming.” Clair moved into the room. “I’m Clair Carver.”
Kiera watched the woman close the distance between them and felt a moment of panic. Trey was right. I never should have come here. No good could possibly come of it. She rose too quickly, awkwardly accepted the hand Clair offered.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carver.”
“Mrs. Carver,” Clair repeated dreamily, her lips curving wider. “Even after six weeks of marriage, I haven’t quite gotten used to the sound of it. But please, call me Clair.”
Kiera managed a weak smile and nodded. “Kiera.”
“Mary—” Clair glanced at the slender gold watch on her wrist “—why don’t you take your lunch now? I can handle things by myself here for a little while.”
“Mr. Carver told me not to—”
“Never mind what Jacob told you.” Softly scolding, Clair tilted her head. “I’m feeling fine now and you both need to stop worrying about me.”
Shaking her head in defeat, the receptionist slid her glasses off and picked up her purse. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
“You’ll be back in one hour, not one minute before, or I’ll tell Albert in Shipping that you have a crush on him.”
“I most certainly do not!” Mary puffed up like an agitated hen, then lowered her brow with worry. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
“One hour,” Clair said firmly, then smiled at Kiera. “After you.”
The spacious inner office, a mix of contemporary and Western decor, was warm and welcoming. Native American–themed watercolors and bronze statues decorated the walls and shelves. A smooth granite fountain bubbled softly in one corner, and two ficus trees flanked the floor-to-ceiling glass window that overlooked the pool and courtyard.
“Please, sit.” Clair waved a hand toward one of the tan leather armchairs in front of a glass-topped cherry-wood desk. “Can I get you something to drink? Some coffee or water? I have some tea, if you like chamomile.”
Kiera took the chair closest to the door. “No, thank you.”
“I’m sorry I pulled you away from your shift.” Clair sat at her desk. “I know how busy the restaurant gets at lunch.”
If she’s going to lecture or fire me, Kiera thought, she certainly is being polite about it. “Not for another half hour.”
“Normally, I would have come down and introduced myself to you right away, but I’ve been a little under the weather for the past few days.”
She did look a little tired, Kiera thought, and her cheeks were slightly pale. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”
“I seem to be over the worst of it now.” Leaning back in her chair, Clair narrowed her eyes. “Have we met before?”
Kiera tensed, but managed to keep her tone calm. “Have you ever been to Rainville?”
“Rainville? I don’t think so.” Clair shook her head thoughtfully. “You look so … familiar, though I’m not sure why.”
“I probably just look like someone else.”
“Maybe.” There was still doubt in Clair’s voice, but she shrugged it off. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you, so I should get to the point. I received a phone call regarding you this morning.”
Oh, God, she does know, Kiera thought. But with her throat closing up on her, she couldn’t have spoken if she’d tried.
“Apparently,” Clair said, “you’ve impressed my sister-in-law.”
“Your sister-in-law?”
“One of them.” Clair smiled. “Grace is married to Rand. She comes here for lunch quite often. You’ve waited on her a couple of times this past week. She couldn’t stop talking about how terrific you are. I decided I wanted to meet you myself.”
That’s why Clair had called her here? Because her sister-in-law had said something nice about her? Kiera felt a bubble of hysterical laughter threaten to rise, but she quickly swallowed it back down.
