mention that Ferguson doesn’t appear to be married at the moment? Although he was, at least once, according to what I saw yesterday.”
“So what? This is not a romantic rendezvous. This is business.”
“Whatever you say.”
I had to think Cam’s hormones were running amok, and he was seeing things that didn’t exist. Sure, Peter was an attractive man, but I wasn’t in the market. I was taken. I was in a committed and stable relationship. Uh-huh.
I was ridiculously pleased with myself when I managed to find Peter’s house on the first try, since I was not exactly familiar with the upscale neighborhood. I realized as I approached the driveway that I hadn’t asked about whether I would have any trouble getting through the security. I stopped beside the box at the end of the driveway and stared at it, trying to recall which button Maddy had pushed, and then jumped when a voice said, “Drive on up.” I had to wonder what kind of system kept constant watch. Or maybe Peter had been hovering, eagerly waiting my arrival. Sure. I drove up the drive without setting off any sirens or attracting slavering Dobermans. I wondered what else his security system included. Obviously someone like Peter Ferguson would have access to the most cutting-edge electronics, but I still wasn’t sure how those would be used on a hillside lot without fencing. I parked where Maddy had parked earlier, and after smoothing the wrinkles out of my pants and pulling down my shirt, I approached the door. It opened before I could decipher the unobtrusive intercom system. There he was in front of me before I had time to prepare myself mentally—and he looked as good this time as he had the first time.
“Em, thanks for coming. I hope I haven’t taken you away from anything important.” Today Peter was wearing a different, darker pair of jeans and a terra cotta-colored long-sleeve T-shirt that highlighted the silver cast to his hair. He looked completely . . . ordinary. I had to remind myself again that this man could probably buy a small country if he wanted to.
“Do people often turn down your invitations?” I said, more tartly than I intended. I was nervous, although I wasn’t sure why.
He chuckled. “Actually, I don’t invite many people here, so it’s not a statistically valid sample. Come on in.”
Nothing had changed since my first visit—the place was still empty and gleaming. “Is Maddy coming?”
“Come on through to the kitchen,” he said. “No, I didn’t invite her. I wanted to talk to you.”
Why did I feel like a schoolgirl called to the principal’s office? “Should I be flattered or worried?”
The kitchen was much like the rest of the house—acres of gleaming brushed steel, granite countertop, cool tile floors. Since the kitchen was at the rear of the house, the windows were small and looked out on the rising hillside dotted with scruffy mesquite and assorted cacti.
“Is it too early for a beer?”
“Sure, fine.” This was a social occasion?
He pulled a couple of bottles out of the mammoth refrigerator and offered me one. I took it and twisted off the top—no fragile flower, I. He raised his bottle to me, and we drank.
I had no idea what to say next, but he solved that problem for me. “You look like you think I’m going to bite. Relax.”
“Sorry. I just don’t understand why I’m here.” And Maddy isn’t.
“Listen, I’ve got a couple of folding chairs in the—heck, I don’t know what to call it—the big room? Can we sit down?”
“Sure.” I followed him back into the main space and had to fight to drag my eyes away from the amazing view. I was raised on the East Coast, and even after ten years in Tucson I still hadn’t gotten over how spectacular it could be. He gestured toward a chair, and I sat; he pulled another chair closer, perpendicular to mine, and then he sat. He took another long swallow of beer before he started speaking.
“You’ve got to be wondering why I hired
“So what? This is not a romantic rendezvous. This is business.”
“Whatever you say.”
I had to think Cam’s hormones were running amok, and he was seeing things that didn’t exist. Sure, Peter was an attractive man, but I wasn’t in the market. I was taken. I was in a committed and stable relationship. Uh-huh.
I was ridiculously pleased with myself when I managed to find Peter’s house on the first try, since I was not exactly familiar with the upscale neighborhood. I realized as I approached the driveway that I hadn’t asked about whether I would have any trouble getting through the security. I stopped beside the box at the end of the driveway and stared at it, trying to recall which button Maddy had pushed, and then jumped when a voice said, “Drive on up.” I had to wonder what kind of system kept constant watch. Or maybe Peter had been hovering, eagerly waiting my arrival. Sure. I drove up the drive without setting off any sirens or attracting slavering Dobermans. I wondered what else his security system included. Obviously someone like Peter Ferguson would have access to the most cutting-edge electronics, but I still wasn’t sure how those would be used on a hillside lot without fencing. I parked where Maddy had parked earlier, and after smoothing the wrinkles out of my pants and pulling down my shirt, I approached the door. It opened before I could decipher the unobtrusive intercom system. There he was in front of me before I had time to prepare myself mentally—and he looked as good this time as he had the first time.
“Em, thanks for coming. I hope I haven’t taken you away from anything important.” Today Peter was wearing a different, darker pair of jeans and a terra cotta-colored long-sleeve T-shirt that highlighted the silver cast to his hair. He looked completely . . . ordinary. I had to remind myself again that this man could probably buy a small country if he wanted to.
“Do people often turn down your invitations?” I said, more tartly than I intended. I was nervous, although I wasn’t sure why.
He chuckled. “Actually, I don’t invite many people here, so it’s not a statistically valid sample. Come on in.”
Nothing had changed since my first visit—the place was still empty and gleaming. “Is Maddy coming?”
“Come on through to the kitchen,” he said. “No, I didn’t invite her. I wanted to talk to you.”
Why did I feel like a schoolgirl called to the principal’s office? “Should I be flattered or worried?”
The kitchen was much like the rest of the house—acres of gleaming brushed steel, granite countertop, cool tile floors. Since the kitchen was at the rear of the house, the windows were small and looked out on the rising hillside dotted with scruffy mesquite and assorted cacti.
“Is it too early for a beer?”
“Sure, fine.” This was a social occasion?
He pulled a couple of bottles out of the mammoth refrigerator and offered me one. I took it and twisted off the top—no fragile flower, I. He raised his bottle to me, and we drank.
I had no idea what to say next, but he solved that problem for me. “You look like you think I’m going to bite. Relax.”
“Sorry. I just don’t understand why I’m here.” And Maddy isn’t.
“Listen, I’ve got a couple of folding chairs in the—heck, I don’t know what to call it—the big room? Can we sit down?”
“Sure.” I followed him back into the main space and had to fight to drag my eyes away from the amazing view. I was raised on the East Coast, and even after ten years in Tucson I still hadn’t gotten over how spectacular it could be. He gestured toward a chair, and I sat; he pulled another chair closer, perpendicular to mine, and then he sat. He took another long swallow of beer before he started speaking.
“You’ve got to be wondering why I hired
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