and dressed, she entered the living room. Nathan Kendall was still right where she had put him, and Ben and Trisha were talking about his merits. Despite herself, she couldn’t help feeling suspicious.
Trisha turned to her with a smile. “I took the liberty of putting coffee on,” she said. “Or would you rather have tea?”
“I’m happy with either,” Scarlet assured her. “And no liberty—you own this place.”
“But we’ve given you the apartment as part of your employee package,” Ben said. “That means we’re guests in here right now.”
“Then I should be getting you coffee,” Scarlet said. “And I hope you don’t mind, but Diego, my ex, has three other agents with him. I can ask them to stay somewhere else if you’d rather.”
“Four FBI agents to watch over us?” Trish asked. “I don’t mind in the least. In fact, I’m thrilled.”
“We have an almost empty bed-and-breakfast,” Ben said drily. “Not a problem at all.”
“They should be here soon. While we’re waiting, I’ll whip up omelets,” Scarlet said. “I’m actually a pretty good cook,” she promised.
She looked at her watch and realized that she didn’t want to be alone in the museum.
And once Diego and his friends got here, did she tell him that either one or both of her employers might be a psychotic killer, or else a mannequin had moved all by itself? Even if he didn’t think she was the killer, she really didn’t want him thinking she was crazy.
That thought made her smile fade as she looked at Ben and Trisha.
“Any more news on the couple who were killed?” she asked.
“The police are still withholding identification pending notification of next of kin,” Ben said. “But the town is buzzing with speculation. Scarlet,” he said, clearly upset, “I saw them. I saw those pictures, and then I saw them. I have to admit, it’s unnerving to think about something like that happening right here on the ranch.”
“It can’t have anything to do with us,” Trisha whispered.
“No, of course not,” Ben said. “But I’m a grown man and I have to say, I’m glad I keep a gun in the house, because I’m more than a little scared.”
So am I, Scarlet thought.
But Diego was coming, and he would find a way to make everything right.
Now, looking at Ben’s stricken expression, she decided she had to be crazy to think he and Trisha could have had anything to do with the deaths. And if they were after her, they could have killed her at any time.
Like the person who had moved the mannequin. That person could have killed her last night if he’d wanted to.
Unless the mannequin had moved on its own.
Okay, she told herself, that was enough of that. If she kept thinking along those lines she would start thinking she was crazy.
Diego and his friends would be there soon. All she had to do was hold on until then.
“I’ll make breakfast,” she said.
And then she fled to the kitchen to concentrate on creating omelets.
* * *
The minute Diego saw Scarlet come running out the door of the museum, eyes anxious and hopeful, he felt his muscles tighten, and an aching pulse began to pound through him. He wondered how things could have gone so wrong between the two of them when they’d loved each other so much.
Watching her run to him, blue eyes wide, chestnut hair streaming out behind her, he felt the same rush in his veins that he’d felt the first time he’d seen her. Her features were alive with intelligence, her movements the epitome of grace, even when fear, relief and a dozen other emotions were fighting for expression.
His love for her was as strong as ever, but she’d needed to leave him, and he’d never stood in the way of her happiness.
She’d gone through a miscarriage alone, while he had been on a case. In his defense, she’d never told him that she was pregnant. She’d been waiting for a special moment, a moment that had never happened, because he’d been so buried in his case. They’d tried to arrange a romantic evening, but somehow it had never happened.
And then it had been too late.
He noticed the attractive older couple who followed her out. He realized they must be Ben and Trisha Kendall.
Scarlet hurried toward the car, and he couldn’t help noticing that her jeans and a blue sweater heightened the color of her eyes, which looked as clear and pristine as the sky.
He stepped out of the car, determined to be calm and professional, to keep his emotional distance and remember that she had only called him because she was in trouble.
She wasn’t really in trouble anymore, he reminded himself; she’d been released. But the expression on her face told him that she was still upset about something, and he wondered what it could be.
To his astonishment, she threw herself into his arms.
For just a minute he allowed himself to pretend it was because she still loved him, and he reveled in the scent and feel of her. She smelled of the same shampoo she’d always loved, mixed with a light perfume. She was warm and soft, and it was the most difficult thing in the world to tell his body that this embrace wasn’t a prelude to more.
He held her tightly. She was trembling almost imperceptibly, but he could tell that she was scared, really scared, and Scarlet didn’t scare easily. In her day she had crawled through Egyptian tombs, excavated Native American burial mounds and explored what many might consider to be the creepiest places on earth.
He held her, wishing he could somehow infuse her with some of his own strength.
Despite himself, he remembered, not just in his mind’s eye but deep in his soul, the way they had somehow known instantly when they’d met that they were meant to be together. The way they had dated and fallen so quickly into one another’s arms, and then into love. He remembered her laughter when she’d greeted him the night of his last birthday, wearing a bow tie, stiletto heels and nothing else. He would never forget the way she moved against him, with him, like a sweet, sensual heat wave.
But marriage was more than desire and even love, and they had somehow allowed it to fall apart.
Her call. But his fault, he knew. He’d been so blind. She had known that his work was important to him, of course, and she had never protested his long absences or said anything about the late hours as he let his career become all-consuming. He hadn’t even realized that she’d slowly stopped talking to him because he never talked back, not about anything important. He didn’t see what he was doing, how much he was gone...and that nights together, no matter how passionate, didn’t make up for the things that went unsaid.
At last she pulled away and he felt her absence like a physical pain.
Brett cleared his throat and Scarlet turned
