a smile. “I’m fine. Maybe a ghost walked over my grave.”
“Are you superstitious?”
“No more than the next person, I suppose. But the Irish are, I’m told. Though you don’t strike me as the type of man who leans toward whimsy or flights of fancy.”
He released her. The color of his eyes darkened to midnight. His jaw set. “I’ve seen firsthand the pain caused by people who can’t hold on to reality. So, no. I’m not superstitious.”
The turn in the conversation had upset him. But she couldn’t let it drop. “And I’ve seen the damage done by soulless individuals who can’t see the magic in everyday life. So maybe the truth lies somewhere in between.”
They stared at each other. A pleasant evening of flirtation had segued into something far more serious.
He shook his head, his expression rueful. “I think we’ve strayed into territory best left unexplored for the moment. I was supposed to be telling you about things to see and do while you’re here.”
“True.” She glanced at his watch. “But it’s late. We can finish this tomorrow. I need to get some sleep.”
He stood when she did. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“It’s not necessary.”
His gaze was teasing. “Merely one of our amenities.”
They exited the bar and headed for the duo of elevators in the lobby. Someone had lowered the lights. A sleepy desk clerk sketched a halfhearted wave as they passed by. The intimacy of the hour shrouded everything in a hushed silence.
In the elevator, Zoe leaned against one mirrored wall, Liam the other. His gaze was trained on the carpet at his feet, as though he were lost in thought. The ride was short. A quiet ding, and suddenly they were at Zoe’s floor.
“Good night,” she said, thinking he would remain in the elevator.
Instead, he accompanied her down the hallway. “Perhaps I should check for monsters under your bed,” he whispered, obviously not wanting to disturb his other guests.
She shot him a look, wondering if he expected to come in. “I’m sure a hotel like the Silver Beeches Lodge has a ghostbuster on retainer. But thanks for the offer.”
At her door, she reached in her small bag and withdrew her key card. “I enjoyed our visit,” she said primly. “Thanks for your time.”
They were not touching. Liam stood a good three feet away. But the look in his eyes scorched her. Beneath the thin fabric of her dress, her nipples beaded.
Liam noticed, and took a step backward. “It was my pleasure,” he said. The words were prosaic, but the intonation was not.
Desire shimmered between them, invisible but real. She didn’t really imagine that her vehicle talked to her. That was a game she played. But if she believed in fate, and perhaps she did, then this moment in time was preordained. Something had brought her to a small, private getaway in the mountains where the man of her dreams awaited her.
It was entirely possible she was being naive. Perhaps Liam entertained a number of female guests who walked into his hotel.
Even so, she chose to keep the fiction alive.
She looked at him wistfully, wishing she had the guts to kiss him. “Good night, Liam.”
He nodded tersely, his beautiful eyes turbulent. “Good night, Zoe.”
Three
Liam didn’t sleep worth a damn. His sex was stiff and aching off and on for most of the night. The few hours he did manage to close his eyes and doze, he dreamed of Zoe. When the alarm went off at seven, he groaned and slapped the snooze button. Normally a morning person, today he knew it was going to take more than a cup of coffee—or two or four—to keep him on track.
The dreams he’d experienced had been explicit and erotic. In his extremely vivid nocturnal imagination, Zoe was continually naked and smiling. And happy to see him. He could actually feel the warmth of her body draped across his. A pleasant notion that played well in his subconscious, but not so much in the harsh light of day.
The alarm shrilled a second time, and he gave in.
An hour later, showered, dressed and mostly awake, he headed down to the lobby. It was a weekday, so their check-ins would be light. Marjorie stopped him with a question about a multiroom booking. Pierre wanted to show him a website that might be of interest to their guests. By the time Liam finally made it to his office, it was almost ten.
He sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, gazing absently out his window that overlooked the side of the property. The groundskeeper had outdone himself this past year. Dogwoods bloomed in profusion amidst carefully sculpted banks of forsythia. Narrow paths dotted with ornamental benches invited guests to stop and enjoy the rainbow of irises, tulips and English wildflowers planted in traditional beds.
The tranquil view soothed Liam as a rule. But today it made things worse. Because he could imagine himself and Zoe walking in the moonlight out there. A glance at the calendar on the wall confirmed the fact that the lunar phase was full tonight.
Sucking in a disgusted breath, he forced himself to focus on work. He was a grown man too old to be ruled by his male anatomy. Last night was exhilarating and stimulating in more ways than one. But he had to slow down. He was the head of the Kavanagh family. He had responsibilities. Big ones. He didn’t have the luxury of following every sexual whim.
The landline phone rang, startling him. He picked it up automatically. “Silver Beeches Lodge. Liam Kavanagh speaking.”
The voice on the other end was familiar. “Hey, buddy. Do you have a minute to come down to the shop?”
“What’s up, Gary?” He and the owner of the Silver Chassis had gone to public school together for years and remained friends to this day, despite the differences in their financial situations. Maeve had taught her children from the cradle that they were no better than anyone else. Money is not the measure of a man. Liam had heard those words from her a hundred times.
Silver Glen’s most talented mechanic lowered his voice. “I don’t want to say anything over the phone. But I think you’ll want to see this.”
* * *
Liam snagged a bagel and a banana from the hotel kitchen and ate them on the way down the mountain. The scenic drive was so familiar, he could have done it in his sleep, but the view affected him every time. This town would not exist without Kavanagh ancestors. Every part of the community had Kavanagh blood running through its veins.
For Liam it was both a blessing and a curse. He was proud to be a part of something so special, but he was ruefully aware that his heritage chained him here as certainly as any prison bars.
He’d taken up the yoke after his father’s disappearance. He had stood beside his grieving mother and sworn to keep their family together and afloat. But in the process, he’d given up any autonomy over his future. The road ahead was never going to change. He had trained himself to ignore the bleak disappointment that knowledge occasionally evoked.
He
