Falling For Mr. Dark & Dangerous Read online

  She courteously shut the door, then leaned against it, closing her eyes. Nate Griffith wasn’t an ordinary guest, that much she knew already. She couldn’t shake the irrational feeling that he was hiding something. He hadn’t said or done anything to really make her think so, beyond being proprietary with his backpack. But something niggled at the back of her mind, something that made her uncomfortable. Given his profession, she should be reassured. Who could be safer than someone in law enforcement? Why would he have any sort of ulterior motive?

  His good looks were something she’d simply have to ignore. She’d have to get over her silly awkwardness in a hurry, since they were going to be essentially roommates for the next few weeks. Jen wouldn’t be here to run interference much longer, and Maggie would rely on her normal professional, warm persona. Piece of cake.

  He was just a man, after all. A man on vacation from a stressful job. A man with an expense account that would make up for her lost plans by helping pay for her next trip.

  Nate heaved out a sigh as the door shut with a firm click. Thank goodness she was gone.

  He looked around the room. Very nice. Grant had assured him that the rural location didn’t mean substandard lodging, and so far he was right. What he’d seen of the house was clean, warm and welcoming. His room was no different.

  The furniture was all of sturdy golden pine; the spread on the bed was thick and looked homemade with its country design in navy, burgundy, deep green and cream. An extra blanket in rich red lay over the foot of the bed. He ran his hand over the footboard. He would have preferred no footboard, so he could stretch out. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here and he had all the amenities he needed. To anyone in the area, he’d be a vacationing guest. To his superiors, he’d be consistently connected through the Internet and in liaison with local authorities. Creature comforts were secondary, but not unwelcome. Lord knew he’d stayed in a lot worse places while on assignment.

  He unpacked his duffel, laying clothing neatly in the empty dresser drawers. His hand paused on a black sweater. When Grant had mentioned a bed and breakfast, Nate had instantly thought of some middle-aged couple. When he’d learned Maggie ran Mountain Haven alone, he’d pictured a woman in her mid-to-late forties who crocheted afghans for the furniture and exchanged recipes for chicken pot pie with her guests. Maggie Taylor didn’t fit his profile at all. Neither did Jen. He’d known she was here, but she seemed precocious and typically teenage. Certainly not the kind to get in trouble with the police.

  He rested his hips on the curved footboard and frowned. It was hard to discern Maggie’s age. Initially he’d thought her maybe a year or two older than himself. But the appearance of her nearly grown daughter had changed that impression. He couldn’t tell for sure, but she had to be at least late thirties to have a daughter that age. Yet…her skin was still creamy and unlined, her eyes blue and full-lashed. Her hand had been much smaller than his, and soft.

  But it was Maggie’s eyes that stuck in his mind. Eyes that smiled warmly with welcome but that held a hint of cool caution in their depths. Eyes that told him whatever her path had been, it probably hadn’t been an easy one.

  He stood up abruptly and reached for the jeans in his duffel, going to hang them in the closet. He wasn’t here to make calf-eyes at the proprietress. That was the last thing he should be thinking about. He had a job to do. That was all. He had information to gather and who better to ask than someone in the know, someone who would take his questions for tourist curiosity? Inviting himself to dinner had put her on the spot, but with the desired results.

  The afternoon light was already starting to wane when he dug out his laptop and set it up on the small desk to the left of the bed. Within seconds it was booted up, connected and ready to go. He logged in with his password, checked his e-mail…and waited for everything to download. Once he’d taken care of everything that needed his immediate attention, he quickly composed a few short notes, hitting the send button and waiting what seemed an age for them to leave the Outbox.

  “I miss high speed Internet,” he muttered, tapping his fingers on the desk, waiting for the dial-up connection to send his messages. Waiting was not something he did well.

  But perhaps learning to wait was a life lesson he needed. He’d been one to act first and think later too many times. Dealing with the aftermath of mistakes had caused him to be put on leave in the first place. He hadn’t even been two weeks into his leave when it had been cut short and he’d been given this assignment, and he was glad of it. He wasn’t keen on sitting around twiddling his thumbs.

  Grant had asked for him personally. As a favor. And this wasn’t a job to be rushed. It was a time for watching and waiting.

  He frowned at the monitor as the messages finally went through. He didn’t want to run up a long distance bill while he was here, but staying in communication was important. For now, his laptop was his connection to the outside world. It was a tiny community. The less conspicuous he was, the better.

  He realized that his room had grown quite dark, and checked his watch. It was after six already, and Maggie had said dinner was at six-thirty. He didn’t want to get things off to a bad start on his first day, so he shut down the computer and put his backpack beneath the empty duffel in the closet.

  Maggie heard his footsteps moving around upstairs for a long time, listening to the muffled thump as she mixed dough and browned ground beef for the soup.

  Nate Griffith. U.S. Marshal. The name had conjured an image of a flat faced cop when Jennifer had told her about the reservation. Despite the flashes of coolness, he was anything but. He couldn’t be more than thirty, thirty-one. And it hadn’t taken but a moment to realize he was all legs and broad shoulders, and polite manners.

  “Whatcha making?”

  Jennifer’s voice interrupted and for once Maggie was glad of it. She’d already spent too long thinking about her latest lodger.

  “Pasta e fagioli and foccacia bread.”

  “Excellent.” Jen grabbed a cookie from a beige pottery jar and leaned against the counter, munching.

  Maggie watched her. There were some days she really missed the preteen years. Parenting had been so much simpler then. Yet hard as it was, she hated to see Jen leave again.

  “Day after tomorrow, huh. Did you book your bus ticket?”

  “I booked it return when I came, remember?” She reached in the jar for another cookie.

  “You’ll spoil your supper,” Maggie warned.

  Jen simply raised an eyebrow as if to say, I’m not twelve, Mother.

  “You should be glad I’m leaving. That leaves you alone with Detective Hottie.”

  Maggie glared.

  “Oh, come on, Mom. He’s a little old for me, even if he is a fine specimen. But he’s just about right for you.”

  Maggie put the spoon down with more force than she intended. “First of all, keep your voice down. He is a paying guest in this house.” She ignored the flutter that skittered through her at Jen’s attempt at matchmaking. “He wouldn’t be here at all if you’d asked first and booked later.”

  Jennifer stopped munching. “You’re still mad about that, huh.”

  Maggie sighed, forgetting all about his footsteps. It wasn’t all Jen’s fault. She did her own share of picking fights. She should be trying to keep Jen close, not pushing her away.

  “I just wish…I wish you’d give some thought to things first, instead of racing headlong and then having to backtrack. You took the reservation without even consulting me.”

  “I was trying to help. I told you I was sorry about it. And they did come through with the cash, so what’s the big deal?”

  How could Maggie explain that the big deal was that she worried over Jen day and night? She hadn’t been blind the last few years. Jen had skated through without getting badly hurt. Yet. But she’d had her share of trouble and Maggie was terrified that one day she’d get a phone call that something truly awful had happened. She wished Jen took it as ser
iously as she did.

  “Let’s not argue about it anymore, okay?” Arguing over the reservation was irrelevant now. Maggie had been irritated with Jennifer at the time for not taking a credit card number, but it had ceased to matter. The United States Marshals Service was picking up the tab. All of it. A day after Nate had reserved the room, someone from his office had called and made arrangements for payment, not even blinking when she’d told them the rate, or the cost of extras. And she’d charged them high season rates, just because she’d been so put out at having to put her travel plans on hold.

  She pressed dough into two round pans, dimpling the tops with her fingers before putting them under a tea towel to rise. No matter how much she wished she were lying on a beach in Cancún right now, she still derived pleasure from doing what she did best. Cooking for one was a dull, lonely procedure and her spirits lightened as she added ingredients to the large stockpot on the stove. Jen had been home for the last week, but it wasn’t the same now that she was nearly adult and spreading her wings. Having guests meant having someone else to do for. It was why she’d chosen a bed and breakfast in the first place.

  The footsteps halted above her, the house falling completely silent as their argument faltered.

  “I didn’t mean to pick a fight with you.”

  “Me, either.” Jen shuffled to the kitchen doorway and Maggie longed to mend fences, although she didn’t know how.

  “Supper in an hour,” she called gently, but it went ignored.

  Maggie reached across the counter to turn on the radio. She hummed quietly with a recent country hit as she turned her attention to pastry. Her foot tapped along with the beat until she slid everything into the oven, added tiny tubes of pasta to the pot, and cleaned up the cooking mess, the process of cooking and cleaning therapeutic.

  At precisely six-twenty, he appeared at the kitchen door.

  She turned with the bread pans in her hands, surprised to see him there. Again, she felt a warning thump at his presence. Why in the world was she reacting this way to a complete stranger? It was more than a simple admiration of his good looks. A sliver of danger snuck down her spine. She knew nothing about him. He looked like a normal, nice guy. But how would she know? She didn’t even know the reason why he was on a leave of absence. What could have happened to make him need to take extended time off? Suddenly all her misgivings, ones she rarely gave credence to, came bubbling up to the surface. Most of the time she was confident in her abilities to look after herself. Something about Nate Griffith challenged that. And very soon, it would just be the two of them in the house.

  “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head, giving a start and putting the pans down on top of the stove. “No, not at all. You just surprised me.”

  Maggie took a deep breath, keeping her back to him. “Dinner’s not quite ready. It won’t be long.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  He took a few steps into the kitchen. It was her job to make him at ease and feel at home, so why on earth was she finding it so difficult? She forced a smile as she flipped the round loaves out of the pans and on to a cooling rack. “Jen should be down soon. Besides, it’s my job to look after you, remember?”

  “Well, sure.” He leaned easily against the side of the refrigerator. “But I thought we were going to play it a little less formal.”

  He had her there. She thought for a moment as she got the dishes out of the cupboard. He was only here for a few weeks. What harm could come of being friendly, after all? Her voices of doubt were just being silly; she was making something out of nothing. He’d be gone back to his job and the palm trees before she knew it.

  “All right.” She held out bread plates and bowls. “Informal it is. We can use the kitchen or the dining room, whichever you prefer. If you could set the table with these, I’ll finish up here.”

  He pushed himself upright with an elbow. “Absolutely.” He moved to take the dishes and their fingers brushed. Without thinking, her gaze darted up to his with alarm. For a second she held her breath. But then he turned away to the table as if nothing had connected.

  Only she knew it had. And that was bad, bad news.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE’D set the three places at one end of the table; one at the head and the other two flanking it. There was little chance of her getting away with sitting across from him. He’d be close. Too close. With his long legs, their knees might bump under the table. Her pulse fluttered at the thought and she frowned. It wasn’t like her to be so twitchy.

  As she watched, he lit the thick candles at the center of the table with the butane lighter.

  Maggie paused at the intimacy of the setting and shook it off again, putting the soup tureen on the table. It shouldn’t make her feel so threatened, but it did. Even with Jennifer here, a simple dinner had somehow transformed into something more. Maggie simply didn’t do relationships of any kind. Not even casual ones. It always ended badly with her being left to try to pick up the pieces. After the last time, with Tom, there hadn’t been many pieces left to pick up. She had to hold on to every single one. All that she had left was put into raising Jennifer and running her business. She didn’t know why he’d go to the bother of setting the atmosphere, and it unsettled her.

  “Ms. Taylor?”

  Maggie realized she’d been staring at the table. She laughed lightly. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

  “I asked if you ran the Haven alone. I’m afraid I didn’t get many details when I booked.”

  “I do, yes.” She brought the basket of bread to the table and invited him to sit with a hand. She was surprised when he waited until she was seated before seating himself. “Jennifer attends school in Edmonton, so she’s not around much anymore.”

  “Which makes you sad.”

  Maggie smiled, pleasantly surprised by his small, but accurate insight. The house did seem unbearably lonely when Jen was gone. “Despite teenage angst and troubles, yes, it does. I miss having her close by. Speaking of, she should be here by now.”

  She pushed her chair back and stood, fluttering a hand when he made a similar move out of courtesy. “It’s okay. Jen knows to be on time. I’ll call her.”

  Maggie made her way to the bottom of the stairs. What she’d said was true. She did miss having Jen closer, even though at times she was glad Jen was away from here and making new friends. Not all her acquaintances at home were ones Maggie would have chosen. And the last thing Maggie needed was for the marshal to know about Jen’s brush with the law.

  “Jennifer. Dinner,” she called up the stairs.

  There was a muffled thump from Jen’s room, then she came down, earbuds still stuck in her ears and her MP3 player stuffed in her pocket.

  They went to the kitchen together, but when Jen sat and reached for the bread, Maggie shook her head.

  “Not at the table, please.”

  Jen seemed unconcerned as she plucked the buds from her ears. “Hey, Nate,” she greeted, snagging the piece of bread as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Maggie saw Nate try to hide a smile. Honestly, she wondered sometimes if the manners she’d tried to instill had gone in one ear and out the other.

  “Hey, Jennifer.” Nate politely answered the greeting and broke the awkwardness by starting a conversation. “So…spring break is just about over. You looking forward to getting back to school?”

  Maggie relaxed and ladled soup into bowls. Nate apparently had paid good attention to his upbringing. Manners and a natural sense of small talk. And for once, Jen didn’t seem to mind answering.

  “I guess. It’s been kind of boring around here. Nothing to do.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. With all this snow…there must be winter sports. Skiing, skating, tobogganing…or are those things uncool these days?”

  Maggie grinned behind her water glass. She’d suggested a day of cross-country skiing earlier in the week, only to have the idea vetoed by Jen. The same Jen who a few
years ago would have jumped at the chance.

  “I dunno,” Jen replied.

  Nate nodded. “I’m looking forward to spending lots of time outdoors,” he said. “No snow where I live. This is a real treat for me.”

  Maggie pictured him bundled up, his boots strapped into a pair of snowshoes, with his eyes gleaming like sapphire bullets beneath his toque. Her heart thumped heavily. His lean, strong build made the outdoors a natural choice.

  “I suppose you’re all athletic and stuff.” Jennifer paused and tilted her head as if examining him.

  “It’s part of my job. I have to stay in good shape. Just because I’m not…working, doesn’t mean I can ignore the routine.” He paused to take a spoonful of soup. “Besides, if I eat your mother’s cooking for the next two weeks, I’m really going to have to watch myself.” His smile sparkled at Maggie. “This is delicious.”

  “Thanks,” Maggie responded. She was used to receiving polite compliments on her cooking. It made no sense that his praise caused her heart to pitter-patter like a schoolgirl’s.

  She considered steering the conversation so that Jen didn’t monopolize it, but she realized two things. Jen was more animated than she’d been the whole break, and Maggie was learning a whole lot more about Nate by sitting back and listening to their exchange.

  “So, Nate…when you’re not vacationing, what’s your job like? Are you like a regular cop or what?” She popped a spoonful of soup into her mouth while waiting for his answer.

  Nate concentrated on adding grated parmesan to the top of his soup. “No, not like a regular cop. I get to do special stuff. A lot of what I do is finding fugitives, people who have committed crimes and are on the run.”

  “You mean like America’s Most Wanted?” Jen leaned forward now, her dinner forgotten.