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Hostage Midwife
Cassie Miles
Midwife Kelly Evans is in danger she’s the only person to hear a dying man’s last words and someone thinks she knows more than she should… When a hostage situation traps Kelly within the killer’s grasp, millionaire Nick Spencer knows he’ll do anything to save her – even if costs him his life.



Nick stood before her. He held open his arms, and she ran to him.
While they blocked the elevator door to keep it from closing, she kissed him for all she was worth. “We have to go.”
“Not you,” he said. “I’m the one they want. I want you to go into the back of these offices and put your head down.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“Not much, I hope. I got all the explosives detonated, except for the one in my uncle’s office. I had it all set up to rappel down the side of the building, but there wasn’t enough time.”
“When the bomb goes off, what happens?”
“It’s not in the right place to take down the building. There’s going to be damage on the ninth floor.”
“Where the hostages are,” she said.
The elevator dinged madly. “If they keep their heads down, they’ll be okay.”
“Let me come with you.”
He stepped into the elevator. “Stay safe. We’ll be together.”
She watched the door close and could only hope that wasn’t the last time she’d see him.

About the Author
Though born in Chicago and raised in LA, USA TODAY bestselling author CASSIE MILES has lived in Colorado long enough to be considered a semi-native. The first home she owned was a log cabin in the mountains overlooking Elk Creek, with a thirty-mile commute to her work at the Denver Post.
After raising two daughters and cooking tons of macaroni and cheese for her family, Cassie is trying to be more adventurous in her culinary efforts. Ceviche, anyone? She’s discovered that almost anything tastes better with wine. When she’s not plotting Mills & Boon
Intrigue books, Cassie likes to hang out at the Denver Botanical Gardens near her high-rise home.

Hostage Midwife
Cassie Miles


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Fifi and Isis. And, as always, to Rick.

Chapter One
Sunday, 9:57 p.m.
The electricity to the building had been cut, but the emergency lights were enough for Kelly Evans to see as she moved toward the exit sign on the sixth floor. Her pulse raced and her hands trembled. Every step brought her closer to danger, but she didn’t have a choice. She had to save the other hostages.
Carefully, she opened the door below the exit sign and held it ajar. When she closed the door, it would lock behind her, and there would be no escape from the stairwell.
Holding her breath, she listened. Had they posted a guard in here? Was she walking into a trap? Smoke from the earlier explosion that closed off the stairwell at the ground floor tainted the air and irritated her throat. She pinched her lips together, stifling a cough that might betray her position.
She eased the door closed with an almost imperceptible click. Stepping away from the wall, she leaned forward, gripped the metal banister and peered upward. Each floor had a lighted exit sign, but the peripheral shadows created an optical illusion, making it appear that the winding flights of stairs disappeared into infinity like Jacob’s ladder. Kelly started her climb.
Halfway between the seventh and eighth floors, she paused to catch her breath. The ninth floor was the most dangerous. Trask was there, and the men with the guns. If she got beyond that point, she could make it to the roof.
From below, she heard a door crash open. A rough male voice echoed against the concrete walls. “Is she in here?”
“Shut up and listen. If she’s close, we’ll hear her breathing.”
How long can I hold my breath?
After a few impatient seconds, the first voice said, “I don’t hear a damn thing.”
“We’re out of time. Head back to the ninth floor.”
The soles of their boots scraped against the stairs as they climbed. They were coming toward her. She had to move … and to breathe. She gasped, quietly. On tiptoe, she tried to glide with perfect stealth from stair to stair—an impossible task. Don’t let them hear me, please, don’t let them hear …
She stumbled, catching herself with her hands.
From below, she heard a shout. “Hey, she’s up there!”
Darting past the ninth floor, Kelly stayed as close to the wall as possible. Only one more floor …
“Do you see her?”
“Not yet.”
Their voices sounded close. A burst of gunfire from an automatic rifle echoed against the concrete walls.
She took the last flight of stairs two at a time. At the roof, she hit the crash bar and dashed outside into a cold, starry night. There was no way to lock the door behind her. All she could do was run.
Dodging around air vents and solar panels, she crossed the roof and peered over the waist-high parapet. The street below was filled with dozens of emergency vehicles, their red-and-blue lights flashing. This was the wrong side of the building. She needed to be facing west, toward the foothills. She ran to the corner of the building, made the turn and found what she was looking for.
Behind her shoulder, she heard the door open. Gunfire erupted.
She climbed onto the parapet. Looking down, she saw the roof of a four-story building far below. She wasn’t afraid of heights, but vertigo washed over her in a dizzying wave.
She crouched into position and went over the edge.
One week earlier. Sunday, 6:07 p.m.
FIVE VERY PREGNANT WOMEN in loose-fitting workout clothes sat in a semicircle on exercise mats facing Kelly Evans. Behind each lady was her mate, except for Lauren Spencer, who was unaccompanied. Lauren craned her neck and stared at the glass double doors leading into the gym.
“Typical,” she muttered. “He’s always late.”
“It’s okay,” Kelly assured her. “You can fill your partner in on anything he misses. We should get started.”
Kelly tried to keep her Lamaze classes convenient, non-threatening and on schedule. Each of the six sessions in this two-week period was supposed to be an hour and a half, and she’d do everything she could to honor that time commitment. If couples wanted to stay later, they were welcome to do so, but she knew these people had places to go and things to do, even on a Sunday night.
“Before we get into the exercises,” she said, “I want to take a few minutes to introduce ourselves and give you a chance to ask questions.”
“You start,” Lauren said. “The rest of us have met before. Valiant is a pretty small town.”
Clearly, Lauren was the leader of the pack. Not only was she nearly six feet tall and built like an Amazon, but she’d married into the Spencer family, which granted her instant status. From what Kelly knew about this town in the foothills between Boulder and Fort Collins, the Spencers were among the earliest residents. The main office for their property and construction business was based in Valiant. In fact, this class was taking place in one of the classrooms attached to the gym on the second floor of the Spencer building, a ten-story structure in a small office park.
“I’m a certified nurse-midwife,” Kelly said. “I’ve been in practice for about three years in Austin, but I used to live in Denver. And I’m happy to be back in Colorado.”
Actually, she was far happier than she’d expected. While driving here, her first glimpse of the Rockies had lifted her spirits and started her yodeling an impromptu concert of old John Denver songs. The dry air tasted fresh. The skies glowed with a brighter shade of blue. She couldn’t think of why she’d ever moved. What was it again? Oh, yeah, the divorce.
When she’d left her husband five years ago, she’d gone back to nursing school in Texas. Though she and her ex never discussed location, he had taken custody of Colorado. It made sense. In addition to being a lawyer, he was a representative to the state legislature. With his new wife and baby in tow, he’d recently started making political moves toward running for national office. She hadn’t contacted him but was sorely tempted to leave a phone message: “I’m ba-a-a-ack.”
One of the women asked, “How did you meet Serena?”
“We’ve known each other for years and years. By the way, she sends her best wishes for you all.” Serena Bellows, the local midwife, had called Kelly to fill in with her clients while she took a brief maternity leave. “I’m staying with her at the farm.”
“With the llamas?”
“And the goats and the chickens and the horses and the mules,” Kelly said with a grin. “And the children. I assisted with the birth of number four last week—a daughter who weighed in at nine pounds, three ounces. We used an underwater technique. Is anybody interested in that?”
There was a chorus of “no.”
“Any other questions?”
A petite brunette with asymmetrical bangs said, “I love your blond highlights.”
“Thanks.” Kelly smoothed her straight brown bob with the sunny streaks around her face.
“I’m a stylist,” the brunette said. “My shop is named after me—Roxanne. If you decide to stick around in Valiant, I’d love to do your hair.”
“I appreciate the offer, Roxanne.” Kelly transitioned from talking about herself, which was always a bit uncomfortable, to talking about her clients. “When’s your due date?”
“Next week. March twenty-first, the first day of Aries, and I can’t wait. My belly gets in the way when I’m cutting hair, and I’ve been avoiding the chemicals used in perms and dyes.”
A fresh-faced young woman whose name was, appropriately, Daisy piped up, “From what I heard, you aren’t even supposed to be in the same room with those chemicals.”
“If you use gloves,” Kelly said, “you should be safe. It’s not recommended to color your hair when you’re pregnant, but the amount of dye absorbed through the scalp is negligible.”
“The smell nauseates me,” Roxanne said. “Whenever anybody gets a perm, I have to leave the shop, go next door to the café and have a cup of coffee.”
“Caffeine,” said Daisy with a shudder of horror. “That’s another no-no.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Roxanne. “I know I said coffee but I meant tea, herbal-freaking-tea. I can’t wait to have this baby so I can get back to my espresso.”
“You might want to hold off after the birth,” Kelly advised. “When you’re breast-feeding, the caffeine goes through you to the baby. Trust me, the last thing you want is a wide-awake infant.”
After a few more minutes’ discussion about the trials and tribulations of pregnancy, Kelly sensed that the men were growing restless. She switched the topic to teamwork and how they would be the coaches, helping their partners through childbirth. “We’ll start with massage. Gentlemen, lie facedown on the mats.”
The glass door to the gym swung open, framing a very tall, broad-shouldered man in a tuxedo. At a glance, she could tell that this wasn’t a rental tux. His clothing was designer and definitely tailored to accommodate his height, which had to be at least six feet, four inches. His thick black hair was mussed, and he’d opened the collar on his pleated white shirt.
“About time,” Lauren snapped.
Kelly bounced upright on her bare feet and greeted him with her hand outstretched. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Nick Spencer.” His giant paw engulfed her hand. “The pleasure is mine.”
As if the tux wasn’t enough to jump-start her libido, his smile was pure charm. His blue eyes were rimmed with the kind of thick black lashes that a woman would kill for. Kelly shouldn’t be thinking what she was thinking. Nick Spencer was a married man.
“You haven’t missed much,” she said. “Take off your shoes and lie down on the mat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice was a low rumble. “I guess you like to get right down to business.”
His eye contact lasted a bit longer than necessary. If she hadn’t known better, Kelly might have thought he was flirting with her. With his blond Amazon wife sitting right there? Did this guy have a death wish?
As she instructed the women in the class about how to massage their partners, she subtly used the men as dummies to illustrate the musculature of the back, spine and hips. When these women were in labor, it would be useful for them to specifically tell where it hurt.
Another benefit to this part of the exercises was that the men loved the attention. In the teamwork approach to childbirth, it was important for them to feel included. Just as she was about to tell the couples to switch positions, a thin blonde woman in a strictly tailored pantsuit opened the door a crack and peeked inside.
“Excuse me.” Her voice was thin and angry. “Nick, I need to speak with you. Now, Nick.”
As he headed toward the exit, he leaned close to Kelly’s ear and whispered, “Keep going. I’ll be right back.”
His warm breath on her neck sent a purely sensual shiver down her spine. With an inadvertent gasp, she fought to control the sensation. Nothing good could come from being attracted to a married man.
The men were now massaging the women, and Kelly took Nick’s place to rub Lauren’s back. As soon as she touched the knotted muscles and tendons near the neck, Lauren winced and groaned. She was carrying a lot of tension—not a surprise, given the way her husband behaved.
Through the glass doors leading from the gym, Kelly watched as he hugged the rigid-looking blonde. She quickly shoved him away. Though Kelly couldn’t hear what they were saying, the blonde seemed to be chastising him—glaring and shaking her finger in his face.
“She’s the company accountant,” Lauren mumbled. “Marian Whitman has the reputation of being an ice princess—forty-two and never married. The only thing that arouses her is numbers.”
Kelly didn’t see it that way. Marian’s cheeks were flushed, and her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at Nick. Was this a personal conversation? Something strange was going on here.
As the class moved into another position, Nick rushed back through the door. Passing Kelly, he leaned close again and said, “Did you miss me?”
Okay, this was definite flirting, and she didn’t like it. For the duration of the class, she kept her distance from him, ignoring the way he moved and the sexy timbre of his voice when he asked questions. She hid behind a mask of professionalism, suppressed her smiles and avoided friendly banter with him.
When the class was over and everyone else had left, Nick and Lauren approached her. “I’m really sorry I was late,” he said. “I had to attend a charity benefit.”
“The Spencer Academic Awards,” Lauren said. “It’s a scholarship program for Colorado students going to Colorado colleges. Since the Spencers made their fortune during the Colorado gold rush, we feel like we should give something back.”
“The Spencers were gold prospectors? That’s so interesting.”
“Is it really?” Nick said drily.
“Family histories fascinate me.” She tried not to look at him. “Especially when they deal with the Old West.”
“It was 1862 when my ancestors hit one of the biggest gold strikes on the front range of the Rockies. Our mine, the Valiant Mine, was bigger than the Glory Hole near Central City.”
Lauren patted her belly. “My baby is going to be born into an impressive family tradition. In this very building, on the ninth floor, we have fifty kilobars of gold from the Valiant Mine.”
“Actual gold?” Kelly couldn’t believe it. That much gold would be worth a small fortune.
“Processed and smelted right here in Colorado. Every bar is stamped with a V for Valiant.” She beamed proudly. “Anyway, Nick has promised he wouldn’t be late, and my real partner will be here for the session on Sunday night.”
Kelly was confused. She was beginning to feel like Alice in Wonderland, talking to people who spoke only in riddles. “Excuse me, did you say your real partner?”
“My husband, Jared. He’s out of town, wrapping up some important business in Singapore.”
“So Nick isn’t …”
“My husband?” She laughed. “No way would I marry this big ox. Nick is my brother-in-law.”
He bent down to look directly into her eyes. At six feet four inches, he was probably a foot taller than she was. “Since you’re interested in family history, I’d like to take you upstairs and show you my gold.”
Embarrassed that she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion and regretful that she’d treated him coolly for most of the evening, Kelly dared to gaze directly into those gorgeous blue eyes. “That’s quite a pick-up line.”
“Did it work?”
Indeed, it did.

Chapter Two
Sunday, 7:43 p.m.
Nick had been immediately attracted to Kelly. During the Lamaze class, she’d been barefoot, and he’d noticed that her toenails were painted in alternating shades of pink, yellow and purple. He’d imagined himself kissing those toes, running his hands up her long, slender legs, continuing up her body to her limber waist, onward to her breasts and finally her lips. That would be a trip worth taking.
While she lectured, he could tell that she was smart and had a sense of humor. And he was desperately seeking a diversion—a woman he could relax with and share a couple of laughs. His brain was on overload from dealing with the financial problems that plagued the family business.
“Just to make it clear,” he said as he escorted her onto the elevator, “I’m not currently married.”
“That implies that you once were married.”
“I was,” he admitted. “You?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look at him but faced forward, following elevator protocol. “In class, I might have been a little bit rude to you, but I’m not going to apologize. I thought you were Lauren’s husband, and that you were hitting on me.”
“Was I?”
“You were.” Her voice was certain, but she fidgeted with the knot on the Kelly-green scarf she wore with her plaid jacket. “You stared at me. You whispered to me.”
He ducked his head to put his lips close to her ear. “Maybe I was just being friendly.”
“Friendly like a fox.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t look dangerous until you’re ready to pounce.”
“Scared?” he asked.
“I can handle a pounce.”
“I bet you can.”
Finally, she turned her head and looked at him. When her lips curled into a smile, her green eyes crinkled at the corners. He guessed she was in her early thirties, which was, in his opinion, the perfect age. They wouldn’t have to waste time playing games.
“Tell me about the gold,” she said. “Why do you keep it here instead of in a bank vault?”
“Spencer Enterprises is still family owned and operated, which means our company tolerates more than our share of eccentricity. My uncle, Samuel, is the last of the older generation of Spencers. He’s kind of a genius when it comes to architecture. He designed this office park.”
Forty years ago, the oil business had been booming in Colorado, and Samuel had proposed a ten-story building and three others that were four stories each. There was a definite need for more office space in the Denver/Boulder area, but Valiant wasn’t the most convenient location. Prevailing opinion—including that of Nick’s father, who was the CEO—had been that good old Samuel had taken a swan dive into the crazy pool.
As it turned out, Samuel was right. Valiant was just close enough to Boulder and Fort Collins to be a viable corporate headquarters. They played up the outdoorsy lifestyle and the nearness to the mountains. When the oil and gas companies moved out, the software companies moved in. “Uncle Samuel situated Spencer Enterprises on the ninth and tenth floors. And he wanted the gold to be here.”
“But why?” Kelly asked.
“Part of our corporate identity,” he said with a shrug. “We do a lot of construction business all around the world. The clients who come here want to see the gold. They’re usually impressed.”
“How much is it worth?”
“Fifty kilobars at two pounds each.” The elevator dinged at the ninth floor. “It’s about two and a half million dollars.”
She gave a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money to leave lying around.”
“We’re eccentric, but we’re not stupid. Our security is intense.”
When the elevator door opened, Marian Whitman stood waiting for him. Though it was almost eight o’clock on a Sunday night, her grooming was sleek perfection. Not a single blond hair dared to slip out of place. The only color on her face came from her perfectly painted ruby lips. Her mouth barely moved when she said, “I expected you to be alone, Nick. We have business to discuss.”
He didn’t want to talk about corporate deficits and poor investment decisions. “It can wait.”
“Your uncle is here. He’s in his office. I think this might be a good time to confront him, while there are no other distractions.”
But Nick longed for distraction. He wanted to sling his arm around Kelly’s slender waist and take her outside for a walk along the path outside the office park. He wanted to tease her and make her laugh while they looked up at the half-moon. The March air would be crisp and invigorating.
Kelly shook Marian’s hand as she introduced herself. “I don’t want to interrupt. I’ll be going.”
“Thank you,” Marian said, “for understanding. Nick? Come with me.”
Though she was the Chief Financial Officer and the undisputed queen of the corporate balance sheets, he was still the boss. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said. “First, I’m going to show Kelly the gold. Then, I’ll escort her downstairs to her car. If I’m lucky, she’ll agree to come for a walk with me along the creek and we’ll see a couple of chipmunks scampering away from the night-hawks. After that, Marian, I’ll come back here. Then, and only then, we can talk.”
Not waiting for a response, he directed Kelly through the glass doors into the reception area for Spencer Enterprises. Behind his back, he heard Marian give an angry snarl. If he looked over his shoulder, he might see steam shooting out of her ears.
Kelly cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t mind if we did this another time.”
“I would,” he muttered. “I spent the whole day dressed in a monkey suit, shaking hands and representing Spencer Enterprises. The last thing I want to do is spend my night mediating a rant between my uncle and Marian.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
“Shakespeare?”
“Or somebody like that,” she said.
He placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her around the receptionist’s desk and into an open area with several windows on one side and cubicles for the accounting department on the other. “I suspect you’ve been around other people who thought they deserved to wear crowns.”
“My ex was a lawyer. Lots of bigheaded people in that profession want tiaras and crowns.”
As they strolled past the cubicles that were decorated with photos and personalized touches, the overhead lights—which were on motion sensors after the offices closed—came on automatically. Samuel had done an extensive upgrade on the electric and ventilation system in this building about five years ago. Though the decor featured saturated colors and lots of dark wood trim like an old-fashioned gentlemen’s club, the underlying design was state-of-the-art.
The back wall of the ninth floor had a large office in each corner. “We’re in front of Marian’s office,” he said. “On the opposite side, it’s Uncle Samuel.”
In the area between, Kelly paused to admire the gold-mining artifacts in two glass cases, including pans, winches and pickaxes. She studied the large oil painting above the oak wainscoting. The subject was a grizzled prospector leading a mule. She said, “That looks like a Remington.”
“It’s Remington’s style, but my great-grandfather commissioned the painting from one of his contemporaries. The prospector’s face is actually a portrait of Great-Grandpa Spencer himself. At one time, the ass had the face of his number-one competitor.”
“Why was it changed?”
“After my great-grandpa drove the ass out of business, the painting seemed mean.” He pushed open the door to a large conference room with a polished oak table, leather chairs and several other paintings hanging on the walls. “That little one with the bronco rider is a Remington.”
“I like the historical touches. It’s very Old West Colorado.”
“Not really my taste,” he confided as he crossed the room. “I like light and modern with clean lines. The office I usually work from is in the mountains.”
“I thought you lived in Valiant.”
“My brother wanted me to fill in while he was out of town for a week.” His clever brother had also dragged him into the issues with Uncle Samuel. “I’ve got a condo here, but I live in Breckenridge. Most of my work is in the ski resorts.”
At the back of the conference room, he paused beside a door that appeared to be dark oak. His knuckles flicked against the surface. “This entire section of wall and the door is heavy-duty steel.”
“The security you were talking about.” She came closer. “Is the gold in there?”
“This is only the first step.” He flipped open a nearly invisible wall panel to reveal a keypad. After punching in a five-number code, he opened the door to a brightly lit room. The walls were lined with utilitarian shelves and file cabinets. “This is our secure area where we keep confidential paperwork, contracts and mapping information. We call it the vault.”
“I’m surprised,” she said. “I would have thought this information would be computerized.”
“We’re working on it. Some of these documents date back to the 1800s. If they ever got lost, we’d have a hard time replacing them.” He took her by the shoulders and situated her in front of a floor-to-ceiling section of smoky gray glass that was about twelve feet long. “Ready?”
“Amaze me,” she said.
He hit a switch and a light came on behind the glass, turning it transparent. Behind a wall of reinforced steel bars, the Valiant gold shone with a radiance that rivaled the sun. The stacks of fifty kilobars took up about as much space as a medium-size coffee table. Nick had seen the gold hundreds of times. He’d held the kilobars and felt their weight in his hands. Still, being this close always gave him a thrill.
Kelly whispered, “Can I touch it?”
“Afraid not.”
She leaned forward, almost pressing her nose against the glass wall. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the real color of gold before. It almost seems alive.”
He heard the excitement in her voice as she continued. “When I look at this, I can understand why gold has been coveted throughout history—from King Midas to the search for El Dorado.”
“And into the present day. Two months ago, an Ethiopian prince offered to purchase the Valiant gold.”
His family’s treasure was more than a showpiece; it was collateral. If Marian was right and the company was on the brink of disaster, they could sell the gold—a worst-case scenario.
She tapped the glass wall. “This doesn’t seem like enough protection.”
“The glass is reinforced and the steel bars are unbreakable. The only way to open these doors is with a code and two simultaneous fingerprints from Spencer heirs. That includes me, my brother, Uncle Samuel and a cousin who’s currently on an expedition to the North Pole.”
“What about your mother?”
“Mom passed away when I was just a kid.”
“I’m sorry…. Do I see a safe in the corner behind the gold?”
He nodded. “There’s family jewelry in there. Ironically, the diamonds are probably worth as much as the gold. It’s too bad those necklaces and rings are almost never worn.”
“A real shame.” She pivoted and looked up at him. “Diamonds are meant to be seen.”
He would have liked nothing more than to retrieve one of the ornate necklaces from the safe, drape it around her throat and make love to her on the Valiant gold. “I wish I could show you.”
“There’s something magical about precious gems. I got to wear a very valuable rented bracelet once.” She gestured gracefully. “Rubies and diamonds.”
“You must have been attending an important event.”
“The Governor’s Inaugural Ball. He’s a friend of my ex.”
Nick was getting curious about the ex’s identity. “I’m surprised I didn’t see you there.”
“I’ve always been good at fading into the wallpaper, even when I’m wearing diamonds.”
“You look plenty sparkling to me.”
He heard a loud pop. A gunshot?
Grabbing Kelly’s wrist, he pulled her out of the vault and shut the door. As he ran toward the exit from the conference room, he shouted to her, “Stay back.”
In the hallway, Marian poked her head out of her office and called to him. “The noise sounded like it came from your uncle’s office.”
“Was it a gun?”
“I think so.”
A moment ago, he’d thought the worst fate that could befall the Spencers was to lose the gold. He hadn’t considered physical harm to his family. At the door to his uncle’s office, Nick grasped the handle. It was locked. “Samuel, open up. Samuel? Are you all right?”
There was no reply. If there was a gunman in the office, Nick should proceed carefully. But if Samuel had been shot, they had to get in there and help him.
Marian grasped his sleeve. “Don’t you have a key in your office?”
“That’s all the way upstairs. It’ll take too long.”
In a few strides, he was at the glass display case beside the prospector painting. Fortunately, the case wasn’t locked. Nick reached inside and wrapped his fingers around a pickax from the 1800s.
At the door to his uncle’s office, he used the tool to break the latch before he kicked the door open. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air. There was no one in the room except for his white-haired Uncle Samuel who sprawled on the floor beside his desk. Blood spread in a dark stain on the beige carpet. A .45 caliber gun was in his right hand.
Nick knelt beside the old man and felt for a pulse. “He’s still breathing. Call 911.”
Kelly joined him on the floor. “Let me take care of him. I’m a nurse.”
“You deliver babies.”
“I’m also an RN. Step back, Nick.”
He gently removed the gun from his uncle’s limp hand and stood, looking down as Kelly tried to stop the bleeding from a chest wound.
The door had been locked. The windows were closed.
A set of blueprints lay on the desk. Across them, his uncle had written two words: I’m Sorry.

Chapter Three
Monday, 10:25 a.m.
“It’s not your fault that he died.”
“I know,” Kelly said.
Her friend Serena Bellows motioned for her to come out from behind the kitchen counter and join her in the living room. Picking her way through a minefield of toys and stuffed animals, Kelly made her way across the large room with the cathedral-style ceiling. Over the years, Serena and Nigel’s farmhouse on a twenty-acre spread had grown from a small cabin to a sprawling four-bedroom house.
Serena liked to say that the house had grown organically. The original cabin was long, flat and ranch-style. The living room and attached kitchen fit into an A-frame with solar panels on the roof. A Victorian tower housed Nigel’s home office. There were no predominant colors. Instead, the walls varied from room to room in a veritable rainbow.
“Sit,” Serena said. “Talk to me.”
Coffee mug in hand, Kelly sank onto the sofa. “I already told you what happened last night.”
“But you haven’t told me the whole story, and you need to let it out.” Holding her six-day-old daughter, Serena occupied a large oak rocking chair by the fireplace. She unbuttoned her turquoise muslin blouse and prepared to start breast-feeding. “I can feel your grief.”
Kelly couldn’t deny her sadness. Though she’d never met Nick’s uncle while he was alive, she would forever be connected to Samuel Spencer. For a few moments, she’d held his life in her hands. “I wish I could have done more for him.”
She’d worked hard to keep his heart beating and to stanch the bleeding from the gunshot wound. The paramedics had arrived eighteen minutes after Nick called 911. At that time, Samuel still had a pulse. Nick had gone with the ambulance while she and Marian had stayed behind to talk with the police. Less than an hour later, she’d learned that Samuel never regained consciousness and had died on the operating table. Logically, she knew that Serena was right and Samuel’s death wasn’t her fault, but it always hurt to lose a patient.
“Have you ever wondered,” Serena asked, “why people like you and me choose to be midwives and not surgeons?”
“Because medical school is really expensive?”
“As midwives, we get to help people. Most important, there’s almost always a happy ending.”
Kelly knew exactly what she was talking about. Unlike the nurses who worked in emergency rooms and faced life-and-death situations every day, midwives brought new life into the world. It was a great job. She loved hearing the first cries of a newborn, feeling the grip of a tiny hand around her finger and seeing a perfect cherub face.
Smiling, she watched her friend breast-feed her infant. For the first time this morning, she felt something resembling calm. Serena’s husband had taken the other three kids and Serena’s sister to the grocery store. Though Kelly enjoyed staying with the raucous family with the totally appropriate last name of Bellows, she needed her moments of silence. Leaning back against the yellow-and-green-patterned sofa cushions, she sipped her coffee and said, “This is nice.”
“Being around all these kids and animals drives you crazy, doesn’t it?”
“It’s different.” She had only one younger sister who had stayed in the Chicago area near their parents. “I’ve never been part of a big family.”
“You are now,” Serena said. “You’re one of us, and you’ll never be alone again.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise. If you ever need a friend, I’ve got your back.”
“That goes both ways,” Kelly said.
She and Serena had been buddies since freshman year at the University of Colorado in Boulder. Even though they’d lived apart, they were as close as two friends could be. But they weren’t family, not really. Kelly had always wanted children of her own.
Serena adjusted the baby at her breast. “Are you ready to talk about last night?”
She inhaled a deep breath and started talking. “My first reaction was panic. A ringing in my ears. Inability to breathe. Momentary paralysis. It was scary. We had to use a pickax to break the door down.”
“Then the adrenaline kicked in.”
She nodded. When she saw the wounded man, Kelly knew what needed to be done. Her mind was clear, and her hands were steady. She remembered procedures she hadn’t used in years. “It was only after the paramedics took him away that I became aware of what had happened. I had blood all over my clothes. The scarf you gave me was destroyed.”
“The Kelly-green scarf?”
“It’s so corny that you got me a Kelly-green scarf.”
“What happened to it?”
“I used it to stanch the blood flow.” The memory caused her hand to shake, and she set down the coffee mug. “That poor man committed suicide.”
“Are you sure about that? Most suicides don’t shoot themselves in the gut.”
“That was what the police said. They kept asking me if I saw powder burns on his shirt.” She’d torn away his clothing to get to the wound. “I couldn’t tell. There was too much blood.”
“Did the police think it was suicide?”
“There will be an investigation, for sure. But he was in a locked room with the murder weapon in his hand, and he’d left a note that said he was sorry.”
“How did you find out that he’d died?” Serena asked.
“Nick called.”
“Nick Spencer?”
Kelly nodded. “He called me on his cell phone from the hospital. The doctors had gotten his uncle into the operating room when his heart stopped. They couldn’t revive him.”
She didn’t know Nick well, but she’d recognized the pain in his voice. His words were flat and hollow as though he was speaking from the bottom of a deep well.
“What else did he say?” Serena asked.
“The paramedics told him that I did a good job. He thanked me for trying to save his uncle.”
Last night, she’d wanted to comfort him, and she was a little disappointed that he hadn’t called her this morning. Not that she had any right to expect him to contact her; she barely knew the man. Dealing with his uncle’s suicide, Nick probably had his hands full.
“Nick Spencer,” Serena said. “He’s big and tall, am I right? And good-looking?”
“Last night, he was wearing a tux.”
“Yum.” Serena tucked her breast back into her nursing bra. Cradling her infant, she gently rocked. “I think you should call him to offer condolences. Better yet, you should stop by his place and take him a homemade pie.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Well, he just might need a shoulder to cry on. Or a hand to hold. You know, human warmth.”
“Are you suggesting that I take advantage of a tragic situation to make a move on Nick?”
“I’m just saying that you’re both single and there must have been a reason you were alone with him on the ninth floor of the Spencer Building.”
“He showed me the gold.”
“Wow! Nigel is going to be so jealous. He does work for a client in that building, and he’s never seen the gold. Nick must really like you.” Serena was on a roll, talking fast. “This is excellent, really excellent. If you and Nick hit it off, you’ll be motivated to stay in Valiant, and I’ll have a partner. This is so, so, so perfect.”
Kelly chuckled. “So this is about giving me a reason to stay and be your partner. It’s all about you.”
“I’m thinking of you,” she said with a grin. “Honey, you could do a lot worse than Nick Spencer.”
Kelly couldn’t argue that point. Nick was handsome, sexy, funny, capable and rich. “If he’s such a catch, how come some other woman hasn’t snapped him up?”
“He’s only been divorced for a couple of years. From what I hear, he’s a devoted daddy.”
She didn’t know he had children. “How many kids?”
“Two daughters, I think they’re seven and four. Beautiful girls, I’ve seen them in Valiant with Nick but I think they live in Denver with their mom. Both girls have black hair and blue eyes like their father.”
The front doorbell chimed, and Kelly rose from the sofa. “Don’t move. I’ll get it.”
She rushed to the front door. The first ringing of the chimes hadn’t wakened the baby, and she wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be a second bell. She whipped open the door and looked out through the screen.
Standing on the covered porch was a man in a black suit. Though he couldn’t have been more than forty, his close-cropped hair was completely white. With his square jaw and angry eyes, he would have been intimidating if he hadn’t been standing beside a white goat with a black face and black splotches like polka dots decorating her round belly.
The goat, whose name was Fifi, tapped her hooves on the porch, rubbed against his trouser leg and bleated. She liked being around people, especially men.
Stifling a chuckle, Kelly asked, “May I help you?”
“Are you Kelly Evans?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions about last night.” He reached inside his jacket pocket, took out a gold card case, peeled one off and held it toward her. “Y. E. Trask, private investigator.”
As she opened the screen door to take his card, Kelly decided that she didn’t want to invite him into the house. Grabbing her denim jacket from a peg by the door, she stepped outside. There was something about this man that she didn’t trust, and she wanted to keep him away from Serena’s family.
“There isn’t much to say, Mr. Trask. I already gave my statement to the police.”
“I wanted to hear your story. In your own words.” Fifi butted his thigh, and he lurched forward. The goat bleated. Trask cursed. “Aren’t these animals supposed to be in a pen?”
“Well, yes, but they’re good at escaping. If you pay some attention to her, she might leave you alone.”
“I’ve found the opposite to be true,” he said curtly. “If I pay attention to a female, she tends to stick around, even when she’s not wanted.”
This was a guy she definitely didn’t want to spend time with. “Fifi isn’t like that.”
“Don’t waste my time, Ms. Evans. Are you going to help me or not? The family has concerns.”
If he’d told her right away that he worked for the Spencers, she would have been more cooperative. Looking down the driveway, she spotted the family van approaching the house. In a few moments, Nigel and the kids would be back and they’d be surrounded by chaos. “Come with me. We’ll find somewhere quiet to talk.”
Waving to the van, she directed Trask across the farmyard toward the barn. Two spotted goats trotted side by side as though they had an important mission. One of the llamas strolled past the chicken coops, creating a flurry of angry hens.
Most people would have been amused. Not only was there a varied and interesting menagerie, but the lower two feet of the barn was painted with wild artwork by the kids. It was kind of adorable, but Trask was all business. His primary concern seemed to be to avoid stepping on anything ugly and messing up his wingtip shoes.
By the corral fence, she found a space. “Ask your questions.”
“You were the first person to touch Samuel after entering the room,” he said. “Is that correct?”
“Actually, Nick was the first. He found a pulse, and then I stepped in.”
“Assuming that Samuel committed suicide, can you speculate on how he did it?”
“He must have been standing because his body was beside the desk rather than behind it. He still had the gun in his hand. I’d guess that he turned the weapon toward himself and pulled the trigger.”
“He was still alive when you started treating him. Did he speak?”
“He was mumbling, but he wasn’t conscious.” The police had asked her about this several times, and she knew that a dying declaration would be important. “I’ve been trying to remember if he said anything coherent, but none of it made sense. First he said to close the door. He repeated the word ‘gold’ several times. And he talked about a heart of stone.”
When Fifi came toward them, Trask glared. His expression was so angry that Kelly thought he might pull a gun and shoot the cheerful goat. Fifi turned tail and bounded away.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Trask?”
“Concentrate, Ms. Evans. What did he say about the heart of stone?”
“It didn’t make sense.” She thought for a moment then shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not even sure if those were his words.”
“I don’t like surprises,” he said. “If you’re holding back, we’re going to have a problem.”
Was he threatening her? “Why would I hold anything back?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he focused his angry glare at her. She stared right back at him. Kelly wasn’t a silly goat like Fifi, and she refused to be intimidated.
She snapped, “Are we done?”
“I’ll be in touch.”
He pivoted and strode away from her. She imagined that being a private investigator wasn’t a pleasant job; you’d be spying on people, confronting them and serving them with legal papers. Y. E. Trask seemed to have exactly the right temperament for his work—hostile, aggressive and a little nasty.
It bothered her that Nick had sent Trask to interview her without letting her know. He should have warned her that a creepy white-haired man would show up on Serena’s doorstep and accuse her of holding back. Something about this wasn’t right. She decided to talk to Nick.
Her cell phone was in the pocket of the denim jacket she’d grabbed before coming outside. She pulled it out and redialed the number he’d used last night to call her from the hospital. When he answered, she almost hung up. What had she been thinking? Nick had just lost a close family member; she shouldn’t be bothering him because a private eye was rude to her.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“Been better,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you. I wanted to thank you again for the way you jumped in and tried to save my uncle.”
“I’m glad to help in any way I can. I tried to answer questions for your private investigator, but I think I made him angry.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The guy you sent out to Serena’s house. He’s an investigator working for your family. His name is Y. E. Trask. He has white hair.”
“Hold on.” She could hear him talking to someone else but couldn’t tell what he was saying until he came back on the line. “Kelly, nobody has ever heard of him. He doesn’t work for us.”
Who sent him? And why?

Chapter Four
Monday, Noon
During the drive from Valiant to Serena’s farm, Nick was steamed. He hated that Kelly was being harassed. She was completely innocent—a bystander who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
When he got her phone call, he’d been tangled in a mass of corporate red tape generated by the lawyers, the police, his family and employees. Everyone looked to him—as the most senior member of the Spencer clan—to make the necessary decisions. Nick was expected to step up and take control.
Truth be told, he was probably the least informed person in the room. Working out of his office in Breckenridge, he managed to avoid most of the corporate decisions. That was his brother’s job. Unfortunately, Jared was still in Singapore.
At a mailbox painted with flowers and butterflies, he made a left turn and drove down a long, curving driveway. Hearing Kelly’s voice had given him a focus—a problem he could deal with. He needed to find out who had contacted her and why and, most of all, if she was in any kind of danger from this fake investigator.
Though he’d never been to the farm owned by Serena and Nigel Bellows, he knew he was in the right place when he saw the farmhouse—a mash-up of architectural styles that Marian had described as crazy. From modern A-frame to the Victorian tower topped by an ornate weather vane to the wild splashes of color painted on the barn, none of the construction made sense. And yet, he felt a genuine smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he parked and got out of his SUV.
In keeping with the fanciful atmosphere, a fat goat sashayed toward him, followed by a little blond girl wearing a yellow sweatshirt and a tiara. “You will be the prince,” she said to him. “You’re supposed to slay the dragon. It’s your job.”
He reached down and scratched the goat between her floppy ears. “Is this the dragon?”
“That’s a goat, silly. It’s Fifi.”
“And what’s your name?”
She flipped her hair away from her small, freckled face. “I’m Princess Butterfly.”
She was a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. He wanted to hug Princess Butterfly and her pet goat for reminding him that being irritated by lawyers and accountants was a sheer waste of time. If he wanted to get the job done, he had to step up and slay the corporate dragon.
Kelly raced around the corner of the house, wearing a red sheet as a cape and a cardboard hat with scales and spikes. Her brown sweatshirt was raggedy and oversized. Two other small children and a llama accompanied her.
“Hi, Nick.” She gave him a little wave, and then she roared. “The dragon is nigh.”
Princess Butterfly ducked behind him. “Get her.”
He braced himself and pointed imperiously toward Kelly. “No way, dragon. I banish you.”
She whipped off her cape and hat as she collapsed into the dirt. “Oh, no, I’m melting.”
All the kids ran to help her. “No, dragon, don’t die. That’s not how it works.”
She stopped melting. “It’s not?”
“No,” they chorused. “You turn into another princess.”
“Okay.” She popped back up. “I’m Princess Kelly.”
After a few more reassurances, she sent the children back to the house and came toward him. Her straight hair was messy from being a half-melted dragon, and she tucked the loose strands behind her ears. “Thanks for playing along.”
“I didn’t know you were so ferocious.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m a fire-breather.” She picked up the sheet and folded it under her arm. “You really didn’t need to come all the way out here. I could have driven into town.”
“Seeing this house is worth the drive.”
“Unusual, huh?”
“I’ve never experienced anything like it.” And that was saying a lot. Nick had a master’s degree in architecture and had designed hotels, condos and custom houses. “I did a house in Aspen that looks like a flying saucer, and a Gothic-type castle for a rock star. Fun projects, but not as unique as this farmhouse.”
“The people who live here make it happy and interesting.”
“That’s always true. A house is only a shell.”
She reached toward him and lightly rested her hand on his sleeve. Her chin tilted up, and her pale green eyes scanned his face as though searching for something important. “I’m sorry about your uncle’s death.”
Other people had offered condolences, but he sensed true empathy from her. “I appreciate your concern.”
“Tell me about Samuel.”
“He was a crazy old man, eccentric as hell.” That was the standard line. Most people would describe his uncle that way, but Nick appreciated the creativity that came along with Samuel’s unusual perspective. “I admired his talent. We didn’t talk every day or even every month. But we were close. Maybe it was the DNA, but I understood who he was. At least, I thought I did.”
Without another word, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. Her touch reached through the wall of self-control he’d built to keep going. There wasn’t time to fall apart; he needed to take care of business.
Nick hadn’t cried for his uncle, hadn’t shed a tear or acknowledged the pain of losing him, but as he enfolded her in his embrace, raw emotion poured through his veins. His sadness was tempered by anger. How could Samuel commit suicide? Why would he choose death? Nick should have been more aware of his uncle’s state of mind, should have talked to him, should have seen his desperation.
He lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against her silky hair while inhaling the strawberry scent of her shampoo. Holding Kelly grounded him and gave him clarity. “I’m going to miss him.”
“He was a part of your life.”
She shifted her weight and leaned back. Just as easily as they had come together, they separated. It surprised him that he didn’t feel uncomfortable about their embrace. Having Kelly in his arms felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“I’m glad I came out here,” he said. “I like seeing you, and I needed a break from Marian and the lawyers.”
“Did any of them know Trask?”
“No.” Time to get down to business. “Show me his card.”
She dug into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a plain, white card with the name, occupation and a phone number. “He seemed real concerned about Samuel’s dying words, and he didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t remember him saying anything that made sense.”
Nick recalled the scene from last night. When Kelly took over with his uncle, he had stepped aside. “I wasn’t aware that he said anything.”
“He was barely conscious, mumbling. He told me to close the door. I guess he was talking about the door we crashed through.”
There was one other door in the room, the door to a closet. Though he’d assumed that Samuel committed suicide, Nick had opened that door and looked inside to make sure no one was hiding there. “What else?”
“Gold,” she said. “He repeated it several times. And he said something about a heart of stone or a stone heart. It reminded me of a lyric in a country-western song. Does it mean anything to you?”
He shook his head. “You said that Trask didn’t believe you. What made you think that?”
Her lips pulled into a frown. “He told me that I’d better not be holding anything back.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“I’m not sure if it was meant that way.” Her frown deepened. “Trask is a very unpleasant person.”
“I don’t like him snooping around,” Nick said.
“Neither do I, especially since he came here. If Trask is dangerous, I don’t want him near Serena and the children.”
“Agreed,” he said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. Would you mind coming back to the Spencer Building with me?”
“Not a problem. But I’ll need to change into a more presentable jacket.”
“I like the threadbare dragon look.” He fell into step beside her as they approached the house. “How many people live here?”
“Serena and Nigel have three children and an infant. Serena’s sister is also staying here for a couple of weeks to help out. I’m sharing a bedroom with her.”
“How long are you planning to stay in the area?”
“I’m not sure.” She gave a little shrug. “When Serena called and asked me to help with her clients while she was taking care of her baby, I realized how much I missed Colorado. I’ve always loved the mountains, and this feels like home to me. I gave up my apartment in Austin.”
“That sounds like a permanent move.” And he was glad to hear it. He wanted to get to know Kelly better, which might take more than a couple of weeks. “Are you planning to stay here with Serena?”
“God, no. I love her and adore her kids, but I’d go mad if I lived here. I need my privacy.”
When she pushed open the door to an open room with cathedral ceilings, they walked into a recital of something that sounded like “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” All three kids were singing and banging on various types of drums while their parents watched and dutifully applauded before welcoming Nick into their home.
Nick shook hands with Nigel, who looked familiar. “Have you done work at the Spencer Building?”
“Private contracting with a couple of the software firms,” he said. “My wife tells me that you showed Kelly the gold.”
Everybody loved that gold. “If you’d like to see it, let me know when you’re coming by.”
“You bet I will.”
Serena, with her beautiful baby in her arms, joined them. She allowed him one peek at the infant who was, miraculously, sleeping. Then she got right to the point. “You and Kelly have made a connection. I couldn’t be happier.”
“A connection?”
“She’s ready to settle down,” Serena said, “and I want her to stay in Valiant and help me build my business.”
Kelly popped up beside him. Still wearing her khaki pants, she’d changed into a lightweight burgundy jacket. “We have to go.”
“Stay,” Serena cajoled. “There’s so much more I have to tell Nick about you.”
Teasing, Nick said, “And I want to hear it all.”
“Not today.” She linked her arm with his and pulled him toward the door. “Serena, I have my cell if you need me.”
On the porch, she exhaled in a whoosh. “I bet you didn’t know you’d volunteered to be on the Serena Bellows version of the dating game.”
“I like her and Nigel.” Fifi trotted by carrying the red dragon cape in her mouth. “And the whole menagerie.”
With all this rampant energy and enthusiasm, he’d forgotten that he’d come here to make sure Kelly wasn’t being harassed or threatened by Trask. As they walked toward his SUV, he was reminded of the possible danger. Parked at the end of the winding drive that led to the Bellowses’ house was a black stretch limousine.
Kelly saw it, too. “Do you know who that is?”
“I intend to find out.” He paused outside the driver’s-side door to his SUV. “You should go back to the house while I talk to them.”
“If this has something to do with Samuel’s death and his last words, the people in the limo might be looking for me,” she said. “I’m coming with you.”
He didn’t argue. “I’ll drive. I want the limo to follow us. If it stays here, Princess Butterfly and the goats might decide to check it out.”
“That can’t happen.” Her voice was determined. “If anybody scares these kids, I’ll have to kill them.”
“You bloodthirsty dragons are all alike.”
He brought her around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. Though Nick was keeping the tone light so Kelly wouldn’t be worried, he had misgivings. Why was a limo here? What the hell were they after?
He drove down the driveway toward the cheerful mailbox and made a right turn as though heading back to Valiant. As he’d expected, the limo followed on the two-lane asphalt road. The way he saw it, there were two options: contact the police or face the limo himself.
Thus far, he hadn’t been impressed with the local cops or the Colorado Bureau of Investigation agents. They’d been quick to accept that Samuel committed suicide, and the case was closed. Nick thought there was a lot more to be investigated, and he was going to have to be more involved.
Kelly had her cell phone in hand. “Should I call 911?”
“Not yet. I want to see what they’re up to.”
The SUV was approaching the unmanned volunteer fire department building, a good place to pull over. Nick signaled a turn and stepped on the brake.
“Do you have a gun?” she asked.
He was an architect, not a sharpshooter. “I’m just going to talk to them. You stay in the car and lock the doors. Get behind the steering wheel so we can make a fast getaway if we need to.”
“I really don’t like the way that sounds.”
“This isn’t going to be a problem. I’ll be back here before you know it.”
He opened his car door and got out. At the same time, the limo driver emerged. A stocky guy with a thick neck, he looked as if he could also be a bodyguard.
“Mr. Spencer,” he said, “Mr. Radcliff will see you now.”
His civilized attitude didn’t fit with the situation. “Why were you following me?”
“Convenience.”
He held open the rear door to the limo, and Nick entered. He hoped he’d be able to come back out in one piece.

Chapter Five
Monday, 12:48 p.m.
In the rearview mirror, Kelly watched Nick disappear into the back of the long stretch limousine with tinted windows. It worried her that she couldn’t see him. She held up her cell phone, ready to call the police at the slightest sign of trouble.
The limo driver closed the door behind Nick and strolled around the car toward the gleaming front grill where he leaned against the fender and gazed across the road into the forested area on the other side. Though his attitude was relaxed, he looked like the kind of guy who would carry a gun and know how to use it. Why was she thinking about guns? Maybe she’d been in Texas too long.
She checked the mirror again. Sunlight flashed off the silver chrome. She hated limos. Her ex had always insisted on taking a limo when they went to gala events because he liked to make an entrance. In his tailored tuxedo with his diamond-stud cuff links, Ted Maxwell was a very handsome man. Heads always turned when he walked by.
And she had followed in his wake, aware that she’d never be as pretty as he was. He’d tried to coach her about what to wear and how to behave. The only bit of grooming that had really worked was the way she’d highlighted her straight brown hair, which was the only thing she’d kept after the divorce. According to Ted, he’d fought to become an associate partner at a top Denver law firm before he was thirty-five. He’d done the hard work, and all she had to do—her only real job as his wife—was to look good and back him up. She’d been a miserable failure, emphasis on the miserable.
Not only had she been a dud when it came to style, but her profession hadn’t been classy enough for his society friends. When he introduced her, he’d always said she was in medicine, rather than admitting that she was only a nurse.
That snub had been the final straw. She’d always been proud of what she did and refused to pretend otherwise. Instead of trailing behind him in uncomfortable and ridiculously expensive high heels, she’d opted out of the fancy dress balls and political fundraisers. Better to stay home with a good book.
His new wife must be more adept at gorgeousness. Kelly had heard that they were a power couple on their way into the national political arena. They already had one child, even though Ted hadn’t been interested in children when he was with her.
She checked the mirror again, hoping to see Nick coming toward her. No such luck. It was kind of a bad omen that when she met him, he was wearing a tux. Was he anything like her ex? Ted had more polish, but Nick was definitely a head-turner. Handsome and rich made for a dangerous combination. Even though Nick seemed funny and down-to-earth and had complimented her on her nursing skills, she’d keep her eyes wide-open. The first time he insisted that she slip into a pair of four-inch heels, she was out of there.
Nervous, she turned around in the seat to stare at the car behind her. Oh, yeah, she hated limos.
THE PLUSH, BEIGE LEATHER interior of the limo reminded Nick less of luxury and more of a mobile office. The pudgy, little man who introduced himself as Barry Radcliff sat on the bench seat at the rear behind a narrow desk that swung out from the wall. A laptop was open in front of him. A computer printer and fax were on a shelf below the partition separating them from the driver.
The most interesting piece of equipment was a leggy brunette with a short skirt and gladiator sandals. Her loose, curly hair tumbled past the deep vee in her cream-colored silk blouse. Barry introduced her as his attorney.
“And don’t let her beauty fool you,” Radcliff said. “Francine graduated from Stanford Law School cum laude and almost qualified for the Olympics.”
“What sport?” Nick asked.
“Beach volleyball.”
“Of course.” This day was getting more and more bizarre. Nick sprawled back in the seat on the left side of the limo, surprised that there was enough room for his long legs. “Why do you want to see me?”
“Your uncle, God rest his soul, did some business with me. I want to make sure it’s taken care of.”
“I’m the wrong person to contact. You should be dealing with the attorney at Spencer Enterprises.”
“That’s not my style.”
Radcliff’s style was questionable. He wore a loose-fitting blue-and-gold-striped shirt with the top four buttons unfastened to show off his heavy gold necklaces. His dark hair was thick and combed straight back. He had the kind of tan that went with spending a lot of time on a boat or a golf course.
“Your uncle,” Radcliff said, “borrowed a million dollars from me. Payback was due on the day he died. I want my money.”
“You’ll have to be patient. My uncle had a substantial estate, but there are probate concerns.”
“Which is why I’m coming to you, Nick. I’ll give you until next week to make good on the loan. After Tuesday of next week, I’ll be taking my payment in collateral.”
Inwardly, Nick groaned. “Let me guess. My uncle used the Valiant gold as collateral.”
“Bingo.” He leaned back in his seat. “Show him the agreement, honey.”
Apparently, the Stanford-trained, volleyball-playing attorney didn’t mind being called honey. She reached into a file folder and produced a copy of a one-page document, which she held toward Nick.
He skimmed it quickly. Two months ago, just after the first of the year, Samuel had borrowed one million cash. If the amount, plus a couple hundred thousand in interest, was not paid within one week from when it was due, Radcliff was entitled to the equivalent amount in Valiant gold. The signature on the bottom was Samuel’s.
“It looks pretty straightforward,” Nick said. “But I still need to have the legal department check it out.”
“This isn’t a corporate issue. The loan was man to man, between me and Samuel, God rest his soul. That’s why I came to you as a member of the Spencer family.”
“Do you have any idea why he needed the money?”
“Not my concern.” Radcliff waved his pudgy hand in front of his face. He was beginning to sound agitated. “Can I count on you or not?”
“Let me think.”
Nick would have been justified in pitching the document out the window and letting Radcliff’s sexy attorney drag this debt through the courts for settlement. But he felt an obligation to his uncle to honor this debt. Samuel had thought this money was important enough to gamble the family treasure. Finding the project he was working on might help Nick understand why his uncle had committed suicide.
“I have a question for you,” Nick said. “Did Samuel seem depressed to you? Or nervous? Scared?”
“He was okay. I liked the old guy. He was a risk taker, you know what I mean? These days, decisions get made by committees and everybody is busy covering their butt. Samuel had guts, God rest his soul.”
That wasn’t the description of a man who was about to kill himself. As far as Nick was concerned, Radcliff had a better idea of Samuel than half the people who claimed to know him well. In his way, Radcliff was an honorable man.
“I’ll get the money.”
“Too bad,” Radcliff said. “I had my heart set on that gold.”
Nick reached for the door handle. “Next time you want to reach me, use the phone.”
“When I meet a person for the first time, I want to look him in the eye.”
Not a bad policy. Nick was beginning to like this guy. “How do I contact you?”
Radcliff nodded to his lawyer, and she leaned forward to hand him a card. The view down her blouse was a major distraction. If this settlement ever got to court, he’d bet on her to win.
Exiting the limo, he nodded to the driver, went to the passenger side of his SUV and climbed in. When he closed the door, he looked down at the copy of the document in his hand. Radcliff’s business card had listings for five different companies—three of them appeared to be associated with oil drilling.
“What happened?” Kelly asked. “Are you okay?”
“Confused as hell,” he admitted. “The inside of that limo is like an office on wheels, and the guy behind the desk is Barry Radcliff. He’s one of those guys with a dark tan and gold jewelry, maybe from Miami or Vegas. Or maybe he just plays a lot of golf, I don’t know.”
“You’re rambling, Nick.”
“Radcliff loaned my uncle a million dollars.”
“Whoa.” She sat back behind the steering wheel. “That’s a big loan.”
He agreed. Coming up with a million in cash wouldn’t be easy. As Marian Whitman kept telling him, Spencer Enterprises was stretched to the max. Last night when she wanted him to confront his uncle, she intended to close down some of the projects he’d been developing. Big mistake. Samuel didn’t know the meaning of “no.” He’d gone elsewhere for financing.
The limo pulled even with his SUV, and the rear window partially rolled down. A slender, feminine hand reached out and waved goodbye before the traveling office drove away.
“Who’s the woman?” Kelly asked.
“Radcliff’s attorney. She’s an Olympic-caliber athlete in beach volleyball.”
“Sure she is. And I’m a supermodel.”
“I know this sounds crazy,” he said, “but this is a copy of a legitimate document, signed by my uncle. He used the Valiant gold as collateral.”
“Settling debts sounds like a job for Marian Whitman. She’s in charge of the money, right? Why did Radcliff contact you?”
“Because he’s a smart guy. He knows I’m more likely to pay him back than Marian or any other corporate officer.”
For Nick, the debt wasn’t about the money. He was motivated by concern for his uncle. More than anything else, he needed to find out what had caused Samuel to take his own life and scribble a note that said he was sorry. Apologizing was out of character. His uncle was the kind of man—the gutsy kind of man—who faced his mistakes and made them right.
Kelly rested her hands on the steering wheel. “Where do we go from here?”
“I’ve got to find out why Samuel needed a million dollars and what he was working on.”
“There must be records or blueprints or something,” she said. “Can we check his computer?”
“He barely kept track of what he was doing, hated using the computer.” But Nick knew how to get the information they needed. “Change seats with me. We’re going to see Julia.”
He exited the passenger side and came around the SUV. The conversation with Radcliff had given him new energy and strength. Instead of dull gray sadness, he had hope for finding out what happened. In the driver’s seat, he started the engine.
“Who’s Julia?” Kelly asked.
“Julia Starkey has been my uncle’s secretary for as long as I can remember. She came to work for him, probably thirty years ago, as a single mom with two young kids. They fell in love.”
“You’re going to have to fill in the blanks,” Kelly said. “Did Samuel have a wife when he fell in love with his secretary?”
“He never married. As far as I know, Julia was the only woman in his life. You’ll understand what I mean when you see her house. It’s an expression of his feelings for her.”
“Like the Taj Mahal.”
“That’s a tomb,” he said. “Julia’s house was designed for a living woman who appreciates the serenity of orderly surroundings. There’s something mysterious about the place. Uncle Samuel used to say that no matter how much time he spent with Julia, he’d never completely understand her.”
When he was a teenager, Nick had helped his uncle build Julia’s house, and his opinion of the property was colored by that experience. During that summer, he’d learned a lot about architecture. The mathematics and calculations of creating blueprints were only part of design. Samuel taught him about heart, about making a house into a home.
At a road leading into a mountain canyon, he took a right turn. Earlier today when he was at the Spencer Building, he’d noticed that Julia’s office, which was right next door to his uncle’s, was empty. Nobody expected her to come to work. Samuel’s death had to be harder on her than anyone else.
He looked over at Kelly. “You’re quiet.”
“I was trying to imagine what it would be like to have someone love you so much that they built you a house.” She gave him a wistful smile. “It’s epic.”
He wanted to tell her that every woman deserved a castle and a man who loved her so deeply that he would shape his life around her wants and needs, but he wasn’t that much of a romantic. Real life was seldom that pretty. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Julia and Samuel weren’t a lovey-dovey couple. He was a dreamer, and she was pragmatic. They argued all the time.”
“And he never married her.” Her eyebrows pulled down into a frown. “I guess no relationship is perfect.”
Perfection was too much to hope for. He’d gladly settle for what Samuel had with Julia.

Chapter Six
Monday, 2:25 p.m.
After Nick’s description, Kelly expected a gigantic mansion or, at least, a couple of turrets. Instead, she saw a home built of dark wood and lots of windows, many of which were stained glass that sparkled like exotic jewels in the forested surroundings. Rather than reaching for the sky, Julia’s house was primarily horizontal, gradually rising to three stories. If they hadn’t taken a turn at the driveway, she might have driven right by the place.
“It’s kind of secretive,” she said.
“So is Julia.”
The afternoon sunlight shone brightly on the large wooden deck nearest the driveway. Under the eaves, Kelly noticed the figure of a tall, thin woman who stood in the shadows with her arms folded across her middle. She didn’t look welcoming. “Maybe we should have called before dropping by.”
“Julia is practically my aunt,” he said. “Besides, she might have told me not to come, and I need to find out about Samuel’s latest project.”
He parked in front of a three-car garage, and they climbed a winding path that led to the front entryway. As they approached, the details of the house became clear.
Surrounding the path and all along the side of the house, Samuel had used xeriscaping techniques that wouldn’t require watering, which was always a problem in the arid Colorado climate. The placement of rocks and plants reminded her of a Japanese garden, and she heard the gentle echo of a wind chime. There didn’t seem to be a right angle anywhere. Some of the wood beams featured delicate carvings or calligraphy. The most interesting feature was the play of light through blue, purple, red and green stained-glass pieces that created an ever-changing mosaic of color.
If this house truly represented the woman who lived here, Kelly expected to find someone of hidden depth and passion.
When Julia answered the bell, Kelly was a little disappointed. The tall, thin woman was dressed in a shapeless brown skirt and a top in a similar dull color. Her faded gray hair was cut short to frame her angular face. She didn’t seem remarkable at all.
Nick introduced her, and Kelly shook Julia’s cold hand. “I’m sorry for you loss,” she said.
“You’re the nurse who was with Samuel when he died.”
“Before he died,” Kelly corrected. “He was barely conscious.”
“Could he speak?”
“A little bit.” Like everyone else, she wanted to hear Samuel’s last words.
“Did he say my name?”
Kelly’s heart went out to this sad-looking woman in her beautiful but empty house. Julia wanted to know if she was in her lover’s thoughts when he knew he was dying. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s typical. He always took me for granted.” She opened the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”
Nick strode into the gracious flagstone foyer as though he belonged there. “I’m hoping you can help me. I have some questions about Samuel’s death.”
“His suicide,” she said. “Isn’t that what the police are saying? He committed suicide?”
“That seems to be the expert opinion. The security cameras outside the elevators didn’t show anyone leaving. The one on the tenth floor was out, but that shouldn’t make a difference because Samuel’s office was on nine. His office door was locked, and the gun was in his hand.”
“I know about the gun.” She led them into a sunken living room with a massive stone fireplace. Only a few paintings were hung, but the light from the stained glass decorated the walls. “The police spoke to me. They wanted to know if Samuel usually kept his .45 at the office.”
“Did he?”
“He carried his gun in the glove compartment when he was on the road, and he’s been traveling a lot. I assume he didn’t want to leave it in his car.”
“Where has he been going?”
“Hell if I know. He never tells me anything anymore.” Her tone was harsh, angry. “Can I offer you a cup of tea?”
“That would be great,” Nick said. “Do you mind if I show Kelly your house?”
“I’d rather you didn’t go into the bedroom. Otherwise, feel free to look around. This place is a tribute to your uncle. As long as I live here, you’re welcome to come and visit.”
Nick led the way from the large living room and down a hallway to a combination study and sitting room. All the while, he pointed out the features. “There’s no wasted space. Even the hallway has an area for sitting, and windows looking out on a fountain and a stone Buddha. Transition from one room to another is a pleasure.”
His enthusiasm was as endearing as his love for his uncle. Nick appreciated architecture. Like her, he loved his work. But she had the distinct impression that he wasn’t fond of the corporate responsibilities that came with being a Spencer heir.
“There’s a secret passageway in the house,” he confided. “I can’t show it to you because it’s in the bedroom, but it’s pretty cool. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d never find it.”
“Why put in a secret passage?”
“It’s fun,” he said. “The great designers always find a way to surprise you.”
He took her hand to cross the study, and she felt a thrill ripple up her arm. The immediate chemistry when they met was turning into a deeper attraction. It was one thing to admire a handsome man, and another to enjoy being with him. With Nick, she had both.

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