you’re a local boy?”
“Yes.”
“How come I haven’t seen you around?” she asked.
“I just got back.”
“Do you have family in Blackwater Lake?”
“Father. Older brother, younger sister.”
“That qualifies.” She thought for a moment. “So, I can’t help being curious. You have family close by, which makes me wonder why you’re sitting in the shadows on the deck all by yourself. Did you have a dinner date here at the lodge and she left in a huff? Are you a guest here at the hotel? Or just stalking someone who is a guest?”
He laughed. “I’m a guest. Staying here while I’m having a house built.”
“Too old to live at home?”
“Something like that,” he said.
The clouds drifted away from the moon and the deck was bathed in silver light, giving Ben a better view of the blonde. She was prettier than he’d thought, with a small face and deep dimples. Her eyes looked blue, although he couldn’t tell the shade, and tilted up slightly at the corners. Her hair was straight, and cut in layers that framed her face and fell past her shoulders. Her arm through the light sweater she wore had felt delicate and small-boned. Although the heels gave the impression of height, she barely came up to his shoulder, which made her not so tall.
Suddenly he wondered who he was talking to. He didn’t even know her name. On top of that, she was the one asking all the questions. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me why you’re so ticked off?”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“For starters you could define the mess you’re in.”
“I was hoping you didn’t hear that,” she said.
“Nope. Sorry. Every word. And let me quote here, ‘I’m in so much trouble.’ Should I be afraid to get too close? Are you at the top of an assassination list? On the run from law enforcement? A CIA spy doing covert surveillance?”
“Right, because so much happens in Blackwater Lake that the government needs to surveil.” There was a suggestion of sarcasm and the barest hint of mockery in her tone.
“You don’t like it here?”
She met his gaze. “Let’s just say it’s not New York or L.A.”
“So define trouble. You could be pregnant,” he pointed out.
“You have quite the imagination.” Her lips turned up at the corners in a brief show of amusement. She had an awfully spectacular mouth when it wasn’t all pinched and tight. “And that would be a miracle since I haven’t had sex in—”
“Yes?” He looked at her and waited.
“That’s really none of your business.”
“Maybe not, but now I’m awfully curious.”
“Be that as it may,” she said, “you’re a stranger and I’m not in the habit of sharing personal information with someone I’ve barely met, Dr. McKnight.”
“At least you know my name. That’s more than I can say about you.”
“Camille Halliday.” She looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for recognition. Actually more like bracing for it, as if the information would be unpleasant.
The name did sound familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Halliday.”
“Likewise, Dr. McKnight. Now, I really should be going.” She slid the punting foot off the ottoman and gingerly tested it on the deck.
“How does it feel?”
“Several of my toes hurt,” she admitted.
“Can you walk on it?”
“I have to. Work to do.”
“At the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“In what capacity?” he wanted to know.
“I run the place.” That’s when her last name clicked. Her family had made a fortune in the hotel and hospitality industry. “You’re one of the Halliday hotel chain family.”
“Among other things,” she said a little mysteriously. After sliding her other leg off the ottoman, she moved forward in the chair and tested more weight on the foot. Drawing in a breath she said, “That smarts a little.”
Ben realized he didn’t want her to leave yet. “I’d be happy to look at it for you. Sometimes taping a couple toes together helps.”
“Thanks for the tip. Taping a toe I can handle.” Her words implied there was a whole lot more she couldn’t handle.
“Okay. But if you don’t want me to examine it, at least sit for a few more minutes and take the pressure off.”
She sighed, then nodded. “I can sit, but that won’t relieve any pressure.”
“You’re not talking about the foot now, are you?”
“No.” She caught the corner of her bottom lip between her top teeth as she stared out over the back grass and the thick evergreen trees beyond.
“What’s wrong? Might help to get it off your chest.”
“It might, but I can’t. One of the first things I learned getting a master’s degree in hotel management was never unburden yourself to a guest.”
“I’m not really a guest,” he said. “It’s more like a lease until my house is ready.”
“Why didn’t you do that?” she asked. “Rent a place, I mean?”
“Oh, so you get to ask questions but I don’t? How about a quid pro quo?” He met her gaze. “You tell me about your trouble and I’ll spill about my living arrangements. What can it hurt?”
She stared at him for several moments, then nodded. “It’s pretty common knowledge that this property in the hotel chain isn’t doing well financially. My father gave me six months to stop Blackwater Lake Lodge from hemorrhaging money or he’ll close it down.”
“I see. So you have half a year.”
“Not anymore.” She blew out a breath. “I’ve been here two and a half months. The employees are intractable and do their own thing. Personnel turnover is too high and we bleed money in training until a new hire is competent enough to pull their own weight. I think someone is skimming money from the books, but I’m so busy putting out fires that I can’t get to the bottom of it. And I’m running out of time.”
“Do you have a personal attachment to this property?”
“I’d
