Lonely Millionaire (7 page)

"Of course," she said stiffly, pulling her hand from his. "I've got work to do. And who knows, maybe some more guests?" She forced a cheerful smile and led the way back to the car, along the sand and around the edge of town and back to the street. Stuck on the windshield of the rented Toyota was a flyer for the Winchester Mystery House's flashlight tour. A Halloween Special.

"Ever been there?" Adam asked, opening the car door for her.

"Not, but I know the story. Mrs. Winchester was the heiress to the Winchester rifle fortune. She believed she'd die if she ever quit building on to her house. The rooms go on and on. They say they're haunted."

"Afraid to go there?" he asked.

"Of course not. Are you?"

He backed the car out of the lot. "I'm not afraid of anything." Except women, he wanted to say. I'm afraid of getting involved with them, afraid of hurting and getting hurt. Afraid of you, Mandy, especially you. "Except the dark," he added with a smile. "I'm afraid of being alone in the dark."

He felt her eyes on him. "You wouldn't be alone. I'd be with you."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he confessed. He wasn't sure he could handle any more aloneness with Mandy, especially in the dark. Not in his present capacity as friend of the groom. "Anyway, I've got to get back and make some calls, okay?"

"Of course." Mandy's head was swimming. She could have sworn he was going to take her to the haunted house, and for some strange reason she had wanted to go, to hold his hand as they stumbled in the dark from room to room. But here they were on their way home already. How could she have misunderstood? Unless Adam was deliberately leading her on. Maybe he couldn't help it. Maybe he was subject to violent mood swings caused by all those seismic blasts he'd experienced in the Yukon.

Jack, on the other hand, was as steady as a rock. She folded her arms across her seat belt. Maybe every other man would look flaky next to Jack. Maybe Jack wasn't as good- looking as Adam. No one was. But give her a dependable, down-to-earth guy any day. One who would keep his word, who wouldn't promise what he couldn't deliver, who was interested in making a commitment. Who was, in fact, actively pursuing marriage as a goal. That was what she was looking for. Wasn't it strange she'd found him in the pages of Yukon Man ?

Chapter Four

Adam parked the car in the circular drive in front of the Miramar Inn, and Mandy jumped out and reached her hand into the steel gray mailbox. She drew out a batch of bills and one long blue airmail envelope with a Canadian postmark. Her heart skipped a beat. She fumbled for her keys until Adam took them out of her hand and unlocked the front door. She looked up to thank him, but he wasn't looking at her, he was staring at the letter in her hand.

"I recognize the stamps," he explained, his brow furrowed. "Would that be from your friend, Jack What's-his-name?"

"Larue," she said absently, tossing her purse in the direction of her desk, then sinking onto the couch and ripping open the envelope. She glanced up. Adam was standing in the middle of the room looking down at her intently. Holding the blue stationery tightly between her fingers, she paused.

She didn't want company while she read Jack's letter. Not even Adam. Especially not Adam. He wasn't one of those people you could ignore. When he was around, you knew it They exchanged a long glance.

Mandy frowned at him, annoyed at the way he'd settled in as if he were there to stay. Just when she wanted to be alone. Alone with Jack's letter. She could go into her room, of course, but she always read Jack's letters here in the living room where she could imagine sharing a glass of wine with him in front of a blazing fire. She knew it was silly. He'd never said anything about coming down to see her, but he'd often said he didn't want to spend his life in the Yukon. Unlike Adam, who wanted to get farther away from people, Jack was so gregarious, so outgoing. Too outgoing to spend his life in the frozen North with only bears for company.

"Thank you." Mandy sank farther into the recesses of the couch, finally able to put aside the memory of Adam and the pumpkin festival until he spoke again.

"Is there anything you want me to explain, any expressions you don't understand?" he inquired, getting to his feet and standing in front of the fireplace.

Mandy tore her eyes reluctantly from the letter and looked up at him. "No. Thank you. He speaks English, you know. Almost as well as you do."

Adam pressed his lips together and nodded thoughtfully. "Glad to hear it. I just thought there might be some Canadian slang or something I could help you with."

"He doesn't use slang," she explained very carefully. In about one minute she was going to tell Adam to either leave the room or shut up. Though it wasn't really recommended that hostesses tell their guests to shut up or go to their room, she'd reached the end of her rope.

"What does he use?" Adam asked, bracing one elbow against the mantel.

Mandy rubbed her hands and a shower of glitter landed in her lap. "I think I'll take a shower," she said in a tone of resignation. "You're right, this stuff gets all over everything."

He nodded. "I told you."

She sailed past him, sweater in one hand, the letter in the other, went into her bedroom and closed the door firmly behind her. She tossed the sweater onto the chair and the letter into the middle of her queen-size bed, then stripped her clothes off and entered the bathroom. She turned on the shower. Adam was the strangest person she'd ever met. Sometimes he seemed eager to get away from her, other times, like just now, he wouldn't leave her alone for a minute. Maybe everyone who went to the Yukon was peculiar in some way? Everyone but Jack, that is. Either they went to the Yukon because they were unusual, or they became that way after they'd been there awhile.

Above the noise of the shower, she heard someone knocking on her door and calling her name. She turned the spigot off and wrapped a towel around her. At her bedroom door, she paused. "Yes?"

"Mandy," Adam said. "Telephone."

She opened the door and he handed her the portable phone. He'd changed. He'd showered. He looked dean and gorgeous, his dark hair damp and thick. She gripped her towel tightly around her chest with her other hand.

"Thank you."

He nodded. "Wait a minute. You missed a few places." He took a cl ean white handkerchief out of his pocket and ran it over her cheek to remove the last traces of face paint. His touch was so unexpected, so intimate, that she shivered. Then he used the square of white cotton to blot her lips. She trembled. She tried to tell him to stop, but she couldn't speak. She tried to back away into her room, but she couldn't make her legs work. So she closed her eyes and gave in to the delicious sensations leaping from her lips to her brain and back again. The next thing she knew he was trailing his lips to the hollow of her neck, where her pulse throbbed.

She gave a ragged sigh, oblivious to the telephone receiver she was still clutching with one hand. When he ran one finger along the top of her towel, her eyes flew open and she saw he was looking at her with a devilish grin.

"It's your sister," he said with a glance at the telephone. "Tell her I said hello." And with that he closed the door behind him.

Mandy flopped over on her stomach and buried her face in the quilt. If Laurie only knew, she'd fly home immediately. Which was not a good idea. She would throw herself at Adam or she would throw Mandy at him. Either way would be a disaster.

Mandy raised her head and got her breathing under control. "So-so," she said at last.

"Is he there with his wife or anything?"

"He has no wife. I don't know about the anything. Probably not, since he lives in the Yukon." Mandy bit her lip and changed the subject. "How was your flight?" she asked.

"Did you hear that?" Mandy asked Laurie. "More guests. Talk to you later." Mandy threw on her hostess outfit again, ran a comb through her wet hair, left her face the way it was, and hurried into the living room.

There was Adam leaning against the fireplace mantel in a navy blue sweater and gray slacks as if he belonged there, entertaining a young couple with some story about an oil strike in the Middle East.

On second glance they didn't look entertained at all, they looked completely engrossed in each other. In fact, they scarcely looked up when Adam introduced her to them.

"Mandy, this is Jane and her, uh, Ben. They've pretty much decided to take the room. Special weekday rate I quoted them. I was just going to carry their luggage in, but they don't have any." He gave her a quizzical look, followed by a knowing grin.

"Oh, fine," Mandy gasped. "Would you like to sign the register?" she asked, turning on the lamp over the desk.

Jane tore her adoring gaze from Ben for a brief moment, but kept her arm around his waist, her hip firmly wedged against his. "Could we do it later?" she asked. "We've been on the road for hours and we're anxious to relax. Your husband was just going to show us the room."

Jane and her companion exchanged a long, hungry look that sizzled with so much sexual tension that Mandy had to look away. She meant to say that Adam wasn't her husband, but she didn't think they really cared. By the time she looked up again, Adam was halfway the stairs with Jane and Ben following close behind. And in another minute he was back in the living room.

"I wouldn't recommend it. It's a sure way to ruin a relationship. Take Jane and Ben there.'' He glanced toward the staircase, listening to the muffled laughter from somewhere upstairs. "If they were married, they'd be sitting here talking to us over sherry, and stuffing themselves with your delicious hors d'oeuvres, instead of, you know."

"I know," she said quickly, feeling her cheeks flush. Fortunately for the propagation of the human race," she added, "not everyone feels the way you do about marriage and children. Some men are actively looking for someone to marry."

"So I've heard," he said. "They even advertise in magazines."

She straightened her shoulders. "Maybe they have to if they live in the Yukon, a zillion miles from nowhere. Maybe they have no choice."

Adam didn't like the defensive tone in her voice. Because he knew who she was defending. It was Jack. Jack, who sat up there in the land of the midnight sun, surrounded by stacks of letters and pictures of beautiful women who sent homemade cakes and cookies from as far away as Florida and Vermont. Jack, who could have chosen anyone, who had chosen Mandy and Julie from Illinois. With a little help from Adam.

Yes, he was partly to blame for Jack's interest in Mandy. And Mandy's interest in Jack, after all, he'd written his share of the letters. But he hadn't written the one she'd gotten today. The one he'd last seen lying in the middle of her bed. What was in it? Had Jack decided on Mandy? Would Jack decide without telling Adam? Without Adam's steadying influence, Jack might make a snap decision he'd regret. Which made it imperative for Adam to get in touch with Jack right now and find out what the hell was going on.