that she had been so out of control of her emotions that she’d allowed Casey to see that she was wrestling with a problem. She’d let herself drink too much, something she almost never did, and apparently her unguarded expressions had given away much more than she had intended. She must have looked pathetic. Casey hadn’t asked her any personal questions, but he’d made it clear that he’d noticed her behavior and that he was sympathetic, if not outright curious.
She wondered why he hadn’t kissed her when he left, when they both knew he had wanted to.
Shaking her head impatiently, she put thoughts of kissing Casey out of her mind. For now.
She could only hope he wouldn’t start asking questions today. She wouldn’t lie to him, but she didn’t want to talk about what had happened, either. Even though she suspected that he would be a very good listener. And she couldn’t help being curious about him and what he was running from back in Dallas.
For their outing, she wore a long-sleeve white pullover with a high-necked, half-zip front, slim navy hiking pants, a quilted red vest and mid-height hiking boots. Her hair was too short for a ponytail, but she’d topped it with a red baseball cap to keep it out of her face. The weather was predicted to be cool, in the low 60s. It would be even cooler in the higher elevations, so she had tried to dress appropriately.
Ready a little early, she decided to try to call Beecham again. Because of the one-hour time difference, it was quite early in Nashville, but she didn’t care if she woke him. She needed to know that he, at least, was making some progress while she whiled away the morning with Casey.
Expecting his voice mail again, she was pleased when he answered, instead. “Rand Beecham,” he said briskly, as if he’d been up for hours.
Because she had no doubt that he’d checked his caller ID before answering, she wasn’t particularly impressed. “It’s Natalie Lofton,” she said, anyway. “I haven’t heard from you in several days. What have you found out?”
“I’m following several leads, Ms. Lofton. Several very promising leads.”
“Like what?”
“Like there’s a woman in your firm who’s suddenly come into some money.”
“I’m aware of that. Everyone knows that. Have you found out where the money came from?”
“I can’t prove anything yet, but don’t you worry. I’ll find out what’s going on. Just give me another few days to put together a strong case.”
Another few days to bill her account, she added silently with a frown, not to mention the fairly sizable amount she’d paid upfront. She wished she had more experience with this sort of thing, but she tended to focus more on the business aspect of the law. Contracts, prenups, bankruptcies…hired snoops were hardly her area of expertise. “Mr. Beecham, I must insist that you provide some results soon or I’ll have to find someone else who can. My career is on hold until you find who framed me. I can’t afford to wait much longer, for several reasons.”
“I’m on that, Ms. Lofton. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve got what you’re looking for, okay?”
She would have liked to push him more, but a tapping on her door let her know that Casey had arrived. Telling Beecham she expected to hear from him soon, she disconnected, completely dissatisfied with the conversation.
Trying to smooth the frown from her face, she moved to open the door.
Casey wore jeans, a denim jacket over a gray pullover and sneakers. “Whoa,” he said when she opened the door to him. “You look great. Very hiker chic.”
He could make her smile, even when she was still stinging from the way she’d behaved the night before, and still brooding over her less-than-satisfactory conversation with Beecham. “Thank you. Actually, I haven’t been hiking in years. I bought this outfit last year when I was planning a vacation that fell through. It’s nice to have a chance to wear it.”
“How long has it been since you’ve been on a vacation?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Longer than I like to admit.”
Chuckling, he made a motion toward his truck. “Then let’s go have some fun.”
She snatched up the small nylon backpack she’d prepared for the hike. “I brought a very light lunch in case we get hungry,” she told him, slinging the bag over her shoulder.
He grinned as they fell in step toward his truck. “We won’t go hungry. I’ve got a pack with some granola bars and bottles of water. I wasn’t sure what else to bring.”
He opened the passenger door of his truck for her, and she climbed in, reaching for the seat belt when he closed the door. He loped around the front of the truck, slid behind the wheel and fastened himself in before starting the engine. “Do you have a favorite trail?”
“I looked up a few online last night. Tommy’s favorite was the Ramsey Cascades Trail. He took me on that one a couple of times when I was a kid, and the cascades at the end of the graded trail are spectacular. The hiking guides list it as ‘moderate to strenuous’ in difficulty. It’s pretty steep, rising more than two thousand feet in four miles. The guidebook said it’s an eight mile roundtrip, about a five-hour hike on average. Or there’s an easier trail…”
“That one sounds nice,” he said, putting the truck in Reverse. “I’ve got a few extra hours today. I’d like to see the cascades.”
She nodded. The memories of that trail were bittersweet, but she would like to see the falls again. She remembered thinking they had to be the most beautiful place on earth. She could use some natural beauty today.
“Which way do I turn?” Casey asked, pausing at the end of the driveway.
“Left,” she said, and sat back in her seat.
He was right, she decided. She needed to forget about her problems and have fun today. She deserved that, darn it.
Looking at his attractive profile from beneath her lashes, she decided she had chosen exactly the right companion for a day of determinedly carefree fun.
Casey couldn’t decide which was more beautiful—the stunning mountain scenery on the trail, or Natalie. He finally decided it was almost a tie, with her having just a slight edge, at least as far as he was concerned.
The trail began as an old gravel logging road through the forest running alongside a tumbling stream that Natalie called “The Ramsey Prong” of the Little Pigeon River. In the summer, Casey imagined the trail would be shady and very green. As it was, there was still some color in the leaves that rained down on them with every cool breeze.
The gravel road was surrounded by mossy fallen tree trunks and enormous boulders, but not particularly steep yet. She had warned him that it got much steeper when the old road ended and the trail became a worn footpath.
“In the summer there are wildflowers through here,” she said, gesturing toward the leaf-strewn forest floor, her thin digital camera in her other hand. “Little violets and irises and other things I never learned to identify.”
“There are probably more hikers in the summer, too,” he commented, and though he spoke quietly, his voice sounded almost loud in the hushed forest. It felt as if he and Natalie
