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Scene of the Crime: Bachelor Moon
Carla Cassidy
FBI profiler Sam Connelly had come to Daniella Butler's remote Louisiana bed-and-breakfast to escape the consuming horrors of his job - and the dark demons he fears lurk in his own soul. But finding a dead body on her property changes everything. There's no room in his life - in his heart - for a family. Or so he thinks, until a killer's threat places his irresistible innkeeper and her young daughter under his protection.Now, as the obsessed psychopath inches closer to possessing Daniella, Sam must call upon his elite skills to track his target and keep the beautiful blonde and her child safe. Defending them becomes his greatest challenge. Losing them is not even an option.



Sam Connelly looked like a man who would know how to please a woman.
He was shirtless and his dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d been in bed.
Daniella’s mouth went dry. “Is there something you need?”
“Yeah, there is.” He walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze never wavering from her. “I need that kiss we talked about earlier.”
Daniella knew the difference between right and wrong, and she’d always told herself that it was wrong to get involved in any way with her guests, but at the moment she didn’t care. She wanted to be wrong.
She’d expected something simple, something light, but when he reached a hand up to cup the back of her head and pulled her tight against his bare chest, she knew this kiss wasn’t going to be anything remotely resembling simple.

Scene of the Crime: Bachelor Moon
Carla Cassidy


Dedicated to Annie Hale,
Friend and fellow writer who dreamed of a book called
Bachelor Moon.
Annie, I know the angels are now enjoying your stories,
basking in the warmth of your soul and delighting in the
sound of your laughter. Our loss is Heaven’s gain.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels for Harlequin Books. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews.
Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

CAST OF CHARACTERS
Sam Connelly—The burned-out FBI agent wasn’t looking for love and he definitely wasn’t looking for murder.
Daniella Butler—She runs a bed-and-breakfast and has become a killer’s obsession.
Mary Marie Butler—Daniella’s precocious five-year-old daughter is convinced she can turn Sam into the third princess in her little operation.
Johnny Butler—Daniella’s ex-husband. He’d disappeared years ago. Was he back now with a score to settle?
Matt Radar—He was reputed to have killed his wife. Was it possible he had another victim in his sights?
Frank Mathis—Daniella depended on the handyman to keep things running smoothly. Did he harbor dark secrets that nobody knew?
Jeff Tyson—He and Daniella’s ex had been best friends, but now he seems to want more than just friendship from Daniella.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One
If he’d agreed to see the FBI psychiatrist like his boss had wanted, this was probably what the doctor would have ordered.
That was the first thought that jumped into Sam Connelly’s head when he pulled up in front of the Bachelor Moon Bed and Breakfast.
Located ten miles from the small town of Bachelor Moon, Louisiana, the huge two-story house was surrounded by large cypress and maple trees and sported a large sweeping veranda. The website had indicated that the house had three guest quarters inside and an additional three in a renovated carriage house.
As Sam parked his car and got out he was greeted with the blessed sound of nothing but nature at work. A bird sang from one of the trees as a light breeze rustled through the branches. Somewhere from the distance he heard a faint splash from the huge pond on the side of the house that the website claimed was stocked with catfish and bass.
Yes, this was just what the doctor would have ordered: two weeks of peace and quiet, fourteen days of thinking about nothing more difficult than what bait to use. He supposed he needed a break from the darkness that had been his life for so long. In truth there were times when he felt as if he’d swallowed a whole night full of darkness.
He stretched his arms overhead. The drive from Kansas City to Bachelor Moon, Louisiana, should have taken only about nine hours, but road construction had added an additional two hours to the trip.
The bed in the motel room where he’d stayed the night before had been abysmal, and he’d gotten little sleep. If he thought about it he could get downright cranky.
This vacation had been forced on him, and Sam didn’t like the idea of time off or anyone telling him what he needed to do. As an FBI profiler he knew that the serial killers he hunted certainly didn’t take vacations.
With a sigh he accepted the here and now and grabbed his duffel bag from the backseat. Although it was just after ten in the morning, already the sun beat hard on his shoulders and the humidity pressed tight against his chest.
At that moment the front door of the house swung open and a woman appeared on the veranda. She wore a long, dark blue, gauzy skirt that the breeze swirled around her slender legs, and a light blue sleeveless blouse that exposed lightly tanned arms and emphasized the press of full breasts.
Long blond hair framed a heart-shaped face, and the smile of welcome that curved her lips caused a flicker of something alien deep inside Sam.
“Hello,” she said as he approached. “You must be Mr. Connelly.”
“Sam. You can call me Sam,” he replied. As he drew closer he realized that she wasn’t just pretty, but she had the kind of classic beauty that required little makeup or artifice. Her eyes were the blue of a summer sky, and her features were elegant without being cold.
“I’m Daniella Butler, owner and operator of this place.” She opened the front door wide to allow him inside.
He swept past her and into a large foyer, aware of the scent of ripened peaches that either came from her or rode in the air inside the house.
“I’ll just show you around and then take you up to your room,” she said.
He nodded, vaguely surprised by his instant attraction to her. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything for anyone. He’d turned off his emotions a long time ago.
“This is the common room,” she explained as she led him into a large family-room-type area. There was a television, a bookshelf with books, puzzles and games, a table and a sofa and several easy chairs. “It’s just a place to hang out if you’re feeling sociable.”
The one thing he didn’t intend to feel while he was here was sociable, he thought, as she led him into the next room, a large dining area.
“This is where meals are served,” she continued. “Breakfast is from seven to nine, lunch is eleven to one and dinner is five to seven.” Her voice had the soft drawl of somebody born and bred in the region. “On Sundays the only meal I serve is breakfast, but there’s plenty of dining places in town. I also try to keep little nibbles in the common room if you get the munchies between meals.”
She offered him another warm smile, and he forced his lips to stretch in what he hoped was a smile of his own. It had been so long since he’d smiled at anyone the gesture felt forced and strange.
“Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your room,” she said.
As he followed her up the wide staircase he tried not to notice the sway of her shapely hips before him. Normally, his head was filled with crime scene reports and grisly details of murders. He couldn’t remember the last time that his head had been empty enough to enjoy the view of a woman’s swinging hips, the weight of a fishing pole in his hand, the simple things that everyone told him made life worth living.
“Is it always this quiet?” he asked once they had reached the second-floor landing.
She turned to face him. “On the weekdays it’s fairly quiet. I have one man who has been staying here for the past two months, but other than that the place only fills up on the weekends and then things get a little livelier. So, that gives you the next three days to enjoy the peace and quiet, if that’s what you’re after.”
She gestured him into a room on her right. The large, airy bedroom was painted soft green with white borders. The four-poster bed looked as if it had one of those pillowy mattresses that instantly made Sam’s muscles moan in sweet anticipation.
He set his duffel bag on the floor and moved to the window to look outside. From this vantage point he could see a wooden walkway, which led to a dock, and a pond almost big enough to be considered a lake, which sparkled in the morning sunshine.
“The bathroom is here,” she said, drawing his attention away from the window. “And here’s the key to the room. Unfortunately the days of unlocked rooms in a bed-and-breakfast are over.”
He took the key she held out to him and noticed that she wore no wedding ring. Not that it mattered. Not that he cared in the least. There was only one thing he wanted to know from her. “What’s the best bait to use?”
“Worms or crawdads,” she replied. “And I don’t clean what you catch, but I’ll be glad to cook it up for you if you want. There’s a shed in the backyard that has bait and a place to clean fish, and you’re welcome to help yourself. Just let me know if you need anything else and once again, welcome to Bachelor Moon.”
He was grateful when she left him alone. Being sociable and pleasant had never been one of Sam’s strong suits. What Sam did best was crawl into the mind of killers.
“Not here, not now,” he muttered to himself as he opened his duffel bag and began to unpack.
It took him only minutes to store the jeans and T-shirts he’d brought with him in the dresser drawers. Then he left the room and went back downstairs, intent on spending the rest of the day with a fishing pole in his hand.
He didn’t see Daniella as he went back down the stairs although he heard the murmur of voices coming from another room. He walked back out the front door and to his car, where he grabbed a new fishing pole and tackle box from the trunk.
He’d been fishing only a couple of times in his life, the last time over twenty-five years ago, when he’d been about ten. At that time he’d gone fishing with his best friend and his best friend’s father. It had been one of the few good memories he had of his childhood.
He found the shed where Daniella had indicated bait was kept. Inside the cool, dark interior an old refrigerator hummed; it stored foam containers of fat worms. Crickets chirped from a cage, and a dank tank held crawdads. There was also a wooden table with a water spigot and a trough for cleaning the daily catch.
Sam grabbed a container of worms and tried to keep his mind empty as he walked down the wooden walkway that led to the dock at the edge of the pond. The dock held several lawn chairs. He grabbed one and positioned it facing outward, then eased down and drew in a lungful of the warm, humid air.
He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be in the field, hunting bad guys and getting them off the streets. He grabbed a worm and looped it onto his hook, then cast out into the sparkling pond.
His coworkers called him the Prince of Darkness because of his ability to creep into the mind and soul of evil. “You’re immersing yourself too deeply in your work,” Assistant Director Ken Walt had told him three days ago. “You need some time off, Sam. You need some distance, a reminder that there’s still good out in the world. You might not know it but you’re on the verge of permanent burnout from life.”
Sam had argued that he was fine, but ultimately he was given a choice: go talk to the company psychiatrist or take a vacation. So here he was, sitting on a dock wishing he were back on the job.
“If you cast closer to the shore, you’ll have better luck.”
Sam jumped at the voice coming from just behind him and turned to see a little girl in overall shorts and a red T-shirt, her long blond hair escaping from pigtails. It was a no-brainer who the kid belonged to; she looked just like her pretty mama.
“Thanks, kid, but I’m doing fine.” He turned back to stare out at the water, not wanting to encourage any further conversation.
“But if you want to catch fish you should do like I tell you,” she replied, and sidled up next to him. “Frank says the best fish in the world like to hide in those big cattails by the shore.”
The last thing Sam wanted was a fishing lesson given to him by a five-or six-year-old. “I’m doing just fine, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” she replied. “But if you catch a big old catfish then Mommy can fry it up for supper, and there’s nothing better than Mommy’s fried catfish.”
“I’m not going to catch much of anything if you keep talking. You’ll scare all the fish away.”
She giggled, a pleasant, childish sound. “Silly boy. Fish don’t have ears and you sound a little bit crabby.”
“I am just a little bit crabby,” he replied, hoping that would end the conversation and she’d go find somebody else to talk to.
“Well, you can just get happy in the same pants you got crabby in,” she exclaimed.
An unexpected burst of laughter escaped him, the sound rusty from lack of use. She grinned, pleased that she’d made him laugh.
“I’m Macy Marie Butler,” she continued. “And I’m a little princess. My mommy is a big princess, and you don’t have to be scared of monsters when we’re around.”
“And why is that?” Sam asked, despite his desire to be left alone.
“Monsters don’t have any power when there are princesses around.”
“Macy Marie!” Daniella’s voice drifted to them from the back porch.
“Uh-oh. I’m in big trouble now.” The little girl released a deep sigh. “Here she comes and she’s gonna yell at me. I might even get a time-out.”
Sam turned to see Daniella coming down the walk, the skirt swirling with each determined stride she took. When she reached them she gave her daughter a stern look. “Macy, go on and get to your room. You know you aren’t supposed to bother the guests.”
“She wasn’t bothering me,” Sam surprised himself by saying. “In fact, I was probably bothering her by asking so many questions about the fishing.”
Daniella eyed him dubiously, but Macy gave him a beatific grin. “And I was explaining to him about monsters and that you and I are princesses,” Macy added.
Daniella’s cheeks flushed with color, and once again Sam was struck with a tiny flicker of heat in the pit of his stomach. God, the woman had a smile that could sizzle an egg in a cold skillet.
“Yes, well, this little princess needs to get inside and clean her room,” she said, and gave Macy a pat on her bottom.
As Macy ran toward the house Daniella looked at Sam once again. “The princess thing—it started as a story to help with her nightmares of monsters.” She looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“So I guess that means you don’t want me to call you Your Highness,” Sam said. He began to wind in his fishing line.
“Definitely not,” she replied with a small laugh.
“Still, it’s nice to know you have the monster thing under control.”
“Thankfully in Bachelor Moon we don’t have to worry much about monsters. Can I bring you a glass of iced tea or something?” she asked, obviously eager to change the subject.
He shook his head. “No, I’m fine.” He cast his line out closer to the shore where Macy had indicated he should be fishing.
“Again, I apologize for my daughter. She can be a bit of a handful.”
“Nothing to apologize for,” Sam assured her. “Besides, I’m sure she’s the apple of her daddy’s eyes.”
Her eyes darkened. “I divorced my husband a year ago. Enjoy the rest of the morning and we’ll see you inside for lunch.” She didn’t wait for a reply but instead turned on her heel and hurried back toward the house.
Sam watched her until she disappeared into the house, then turned back and stared out at the pond. The whole bed-and-breakfast thing was a pretty big operation for a single mother.
Of course, just because she wasn’t married didn’t mean she was all alone. A woman as gorgeous as Daniella Butler probably had any number of men willing to step up and help her in whatever way she needed.
Sam wouldn’t mind helping her if she needed a body to warm her bed. He definitely found her physically attractive, and it had been way too long since Sam had been with any woman.
Monsters. Sam didn’t worry much about the monsters he encountered in his work. What he worried about was the monster he feared slept deep in his soul, a monster that might awaken at any moment.

DANIELLA STOOD AT THE back door and stared at the back of her newest guest. Hot. The man was definitely hot, with his slightly shaggy black hair and intense blue eyes.
When he’d first gotten out of his car and had stretched, she’d watched from the door and admired the width of his broad shoulders, emphasized by his lean torso and long legs.
Even though she’d officially sworn off men years ago, that didn’t mean she couldn’t lust after a particularly handsome specimen when he was right under her roof.
She told herself the slight flush of heat she felt was from the corn bread cooking in the oven and not from speaking with Mr. Hunky Sam Connelly.
Thinking about her corn bread, she opened the oven door to check on it. Dinner this evening would be a traditional gumbo with corn bread. Lunch would be chicken salad croissants with potato salad and coleslaw. It would only be Sam for lunch. Her long-term guest, Matt Rader, was rarely here for the noon meal.
When Daniella had opened the bed-and-breakfast she’d decided to offer three meals to her guests. She loved to cook and adding the additional meals meant she could also make a little money on the food.
And money was always an issue, so she was pleased that for the next month she was pretty well booked solid for the weekends.
Johnny would be so proud. The words jumped unbidden into her mind. As always, thoughts of her ex-husband brought with them myriad emotions that ranged from anger, to grief, to an uneasy lack of closure that might always haunt her.
The knock on the back door shoved thoughts of Johnny right out of her head. Frank Mathis peered in through the screen, and she motioned him inside.
“That flower bed on the north side of the house is looking pretty dismal,” he said. “I thought I’d head into town and pick up a couple of new plants to add in. Is there anything you need from the stores?”
She smiled at Frank, who had been her right-hand man since she’d bought the place a little over five years ago. He could make a flower bloom as easily as he could fix the temperamental air conditioner. “No, I think I’m good until Sunday when Macy and I will do some grocery shopping, but let me get you some money for the new plants.”
Frank raised a hand to dismiss the offer. “I’ll take care of it. I still have some of the money left that you gave me to replace those shrubs in the front.”
“Thanks, Frank. And you might want to plan to eat dinner here tonight. I’m making gumbo.”
He patted the slight paunch at his middle. “You know I love your gumbo. I’ll definitely be here.”
As Frank left through the back door, Daniella pulled her corn bread from the oven and thought about the man who had been such a support when Johnny had disappeared and she’d been left alone to run this place.
Frank had worked with Johnny at a factory that manufactured furnace boilers. Two months before Daniella and Johnny had opened the doors to her bed-and-breakfast the factory had closed down, leaving Frank and many other men in the small town unemployed.
Frank had come to them and confessed that he was broke and needed to move out of the apartment he’d been renting. He knew they had a caretaker’s cottage across the pond, and he’d sworn that for free rent and board he would take care of whatever needed to be done around the place. Two months later Johnny was gone, but Frank had proven himself invaluable around the place. And it was an added bonus that he adored Macy.
She found herself once again standing at the back door and staring out at her latest guest. Even though he was still seated in the chair she sensed a tenseness about him, a simmering energy that she’d noticed the moment she’d introduced herself to him.
She closed her eyes and for a moment could imagine his strong arms wrapped around her, the spicy scent of his cologne on her skin, in her bedsheets. It had been so long since she’d been held in the warmth of an embrace, felt the breathless excitement of making love.
Sam Connelly looked like a man who would know how to please a woman. There had been a dark heat in his eyes as his gaze had slid the length of her, a sultry heat that had made her feel all tingly inside.
She snapped her eyes open and moved away from the window. What on earth was she thinking? It was ridiculous to fantasize about a guest, even one who looked like Sam.
One of her cardinal rules was to never get involved with her guests. Sam Connelly was just like all the other people she allowed into her life—fleeting and definitely temporary.
The ring of the phone pulled her from her crazy thoughts. As she went to the desk in the kitchen to answer, she noticed that the caller ID indicated the call was anonymous.
It wasn’t unusual for her to get anonymous calls. Some people called to find out the rates and information about the bed-and-breakfast and didn’t want her to have their number. They were probably afraid she’d make follow-up calls to them and try to talk them into a vacation they didn’t want.
“Bachelor Moon Bed and Breakfast,” she said into the receiver. There was a long moment of silence, although she could tell the line wasn’t dead. “Hello?”
“For you.”
The voice sounded strange, as if it had been somehow altered. “Excuse me?” Daniella replied. There was a soft click and she knew the caller was no longer on the line.
She hung up the phone with a frown. For you. What in the heck did that mean? Maybe she hadn’t heard right.
She tried to dismiss the call from her mind, knowing it was time to get lunch prepared. Still, as she got busy setting the dining room table for Sam’s lunch, she couldn’t stop the dark sense of foreboding that slithered through her.

Chapter Two
Sam fished through the lunch hour. He had a couple of bites but never landed a single fish. It didn’t matter. As the day wore on and the peaceful silence of his surroundings seeped through him he began to relax in a way he hadn’t done in years.
Not once did the details of a case enter his mind. Not once did he think about any of the killers he’d hunted and caught in his career. He just breathed in the air, napped for a few minutes and relaxed.
By four o’clock the late July sun was at its hottest, and he decided to call it a day and head inside to his room. He stored his fishing pole and tackle box in the trunk of his car and went into the house.
He saw nobody as he climbed the stairs to his room, but the air was redolent with the scent of cooking, and he immediately thought of the woman who would be his landlord for the next two weeks.
He certainly wouldn’t be averse to a little vacation romance as long as she was willing and able and understood the meaning of temporary. It was the only kind of relationship he had—hot and very, very temporary.
Minutes later he stood beneath a shower, grateful that the water pressure was good and the water steamy hot. He hoped the food was as good as it smelled. He regretted missing lunch because now he was starving.
Once he was out of the shower he dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a short-sleeved, light blue, button-up shirt, then stood at the window in his room and stared outside.
Today had been surprisingly pleasant, and he reluctantly admitted that maybe he had needed a vacation after all. He couldn’t remember when he’d taken any time off work over the last five or six years.
He was about to walk out of his room and head down to the dining area when his cell phone rang. A glance at the caller ID let him know it was Special Agent Jenna Taylor.
“Is this my favorite prince of darkness?” she asked when he answered.
“Hey, Jenna, what’s going on?” he asked, as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“I just wanted to check in with you and make sure you arrived at your vacation paradise okay.”
Six profilers worked out of the Kansas City FBI offices. Misunderstood by most civilians, branded as renegades within their department, they were a tight group with a bond that went beyond their jobs.
All of them were single, but when Jenna had traveled to Bridgewater, Texas, to investigate the murder of her best friend, she’d fallen for the local sheriff and was now in the process of transferring from the office in Kansas City to one in Texas.
“I’m here and have spent the day sitting in a chair with a fishing pole in my hand,” he replied.
“Good for you. You need this, Sam. You were on your way to falling so far into the darkness that nobody could have pulled you out.”
“Whatever,” he replied, already faintly irritated by the conversation.
“Seriously, Sam. You need balance in your life. You’ve got to get some good in with the bad, and it wouldn’t hurt if you’d find a nice woman to spend time with.”
“You know how I feel about that, so don’t even get me started,” he replied. “I like being alone and I intend to stay that way.”
“I know, but as someone who has just found the love of my life I wish all my friends could feel the same kind of happiness that I have.”
Sam sighed. Former smokers and the newly in love, they could both be irritating with their need to reform the entire world. The two talked for another few minutes and then ended the call.
As he walked downstairs to find the evening meal, he shoved thoughts of Jenna from his mind. He was going to miss working with her, but he was glad that she’d apparently found her soul mate.
Despite the fact that he’d found her attractive and had enjoyed working with her, there had never been any sparks between them. They had simply been coworkers who had become close friends.
All thoughts of Jenna left his mind as he entered the dining room to find two men already there. One of them stood near a sideboard pouring himself a cup of coffee from the urn on top, and the other was already seated at the table.
The man at the table stood as Sam entered the room. “You must be the new guest. I’m Matt Rader, a fellow guest of this great place.” He held out his hand to Sam.
“Sam Connelly,” Sam replied, as he shook Matt’s hand.
“I’m Frank, the handyman and gardener and general jack-of-all-trades,” the other man replied. “I saw you out on the dock earlier. Did you have any luck?”
“A few nibbles, nothing more.” Sam sat in one of the empty seats at the large table, assuming there was no seating assignment.
Frank took a seat opposite Sam. He was an older man—Sam guessed he was in his late forties—and he had the weathered features of a man who spent a lot of time outside. “You here on business or pleasure?”
“Strictly pleasure,” Sam replied. “I’m on a two-week vacation and looking forward to doing nothing more strenuous than fishing.”
For the next few minutes the men talked about the fishing in the area and the hot weather. Sam was grateful that neither man asked him what he did for a living.
It had been his experience that people did one of two things when they learned he was an FBI agent. They either got paranoid and distant or they glommed onto him with endless, mostly stupid questions.
The superficial conversation was just beginning to wind down when another man arrived. He was a hand some blond with brown eyes, and he introduced himself as Jeff Tyson, a family friend of Daniella’s.
It was obvious the minute Daniella bustled into the room carrying a large bowl of jambalaya that Jeff wouldn’t mind being more than a family friend to Daniella. He immediately leaped forward to take the bowl from her, and from the expression on his face Sam knew the man was in love with her.
As Sam saw her a slight sizzle again went through him. Her gaze met his and a hint of color crept into her cheeks. Did she feel it, too? The crazy tug of physical attraction? Maybe her cheeks were just flushed from cooking, he thought as she disappeared back into the kitchen. Or maybe there was something more going on between her and Jeff than just friendship.
She returned a moment later with a pan of corn bread and a bowl of salad. “I have fresh peach cobbler for dessert,” she said. “Enjoy your meal.”
The food was terrific and the conversation flowed easily between the three men. Sam ate and only half-listened as his thoughts returned to the woman who had served them.
Apparently Daniella and her daughter didn’t share their meals with the guests. As the owner of a bed-and-breakfast, Daniella had certainly set herself up for a demanding life, and she was a single parent to boot.
He had a feeling beneath the sexy package there had to be some major inner strength. It was Sam’s experience that divorcees reacted to their life experiences in two ways: either they were eager to get married again and try for the happily-ever-after they’d been deprived of in their first marriage, or they turned their back on the very idea of a second marriage.
There was a small part of him that hoped she fell into the second category, that she was ripe for a very brief, very physical relationship with no emotional attachment, and that she and Jeff truly were just old friends with nothing else going on between them.
He frowned irritably, wondering why he suddenly had sex on the mind. He knew part of the problem was that he’d been so long without it. It had been eight months since he’d been with a woman, part of a fling with a career-minded woman he saw on an irregular basis.
Ramona Welch lived in Topeka and occasionally traveled to Kansas City for business. Whenever she was in town she’d call Sam and they hooked up for the night. There were no expectations between them and definitely no love.
He was grateful when the meal had ended and he escaped to his room after telling the others good-night. He was tired after the long drive that morning and the previous night of little sleep.
After pulling down the pretty green bedspread he stretched out on the bed and considered turning on the television, but decided instead to just enjoy the silence.
There had been little silence in his life or in his head in the last seven years since he’d become a profiler at the age of twenty-eight. His head had been filled with the voices of victims and the whispers of killers, and now, with no pending case to think about, he relished the blessed silence. As much as he hated to admit it, his boss had been right. He’d needed some time away from his job.
He must have drifted off to sleep, for a soft knock on his door awakened him. Instantly he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Yes?” he called.
The door creaked open and Macy peered in. “Can I ask you something?”
He got up from the bed and met her at the door. “What’s that?”
“You got any kids?”
“No. Why?”
She shrugged. “Just wondering, that’s all. My daddy got lost when I was a baby.”
“He got lost?” What did that mean?
Macy nodded. “Mommy told me she looked and looked for him, but we never could find him.”
It sounded like a case of abandonment. Despite the hard shell he always kept around his heart he felt a tiny crack as he gazed into Macy’s childish eyes.
“Since we can’t find him I’m kind of looking for a new daddy.”
Before Sam could reply a scream ripped through the air. Sam instantly recognized it as Daniella and without thought he scooped Macy up in his arms and took the stairs two at a time.
He found her in the kitchen. She stood at the back door, her face white as horror radiated from her eyes. The sight of Macy seemed to center her as she stepped away from the door and some of the color flooded back into her cheeks.
“Macy, go to your room and get ready for bed. I’ll be in to kiss you good-night in just a few minutes.” Despite the fact that she appeared more calm, Sam heard the tremble in her voice.
Sam placed Macy on the floor. “Why did you scream?” she asked her mother.
“It’s nothing, honey. Go on and get your pajamas on and don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
The minute the child disappeared through a doorway at the back of the kitchen, the horror once again filled Daniella’s blue eyes. “Out there…oh, God, she’s dead.”
Sam stepped out the back door, where the bright porch light illuminated half the yard. The first thing he saw was a trash bag lying on the ground about ten yards from a large Dumpster. The second was the body propped against the base of a large tree.
He sucked in his breath as he went closer to investigate. It was obvious she was dead. A wood-handled knife protruded from the center of her chest, and her brown eyes were frozen open as if in startled response.
She’d been pretty in life. Her dark hair shone with a rich luster, and her features were dainty and attractive. She was clad in a navy sundress and matching sandals, and Sam instantly ruled out robbery, for her diamond rings were still on her fingers.
He took a step closer, although not so close that he might contaminate the scene. The dried blood around the wound indicated to him that she’d been dead for a while. No blood in the general area led him to believe this was just the dump site, not the scene of the murder.
The grass around where she sat looked undisturbed, with nothing out of place to capture his attention. No gum wrapper, no cigarette butt, nothing that could supply a clue as to who was responsible.
Not your scene, a little voice whispered in his head. This isn’t your problem. You’re on vacation. He backed away. The last thing he wanted to do was get involved. He was simply a guest here; there was absolutely no reason for him to get involved in this crime.
As he turned and saw Daniella silhouetted in the doorway, he hoped to hell he could hang on to his desire to remain uninvolved, but he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

DANIELLA WATCHED AS SAM headed back toward the house. She felt sick as wave after wave of horror washed over her. As Sam entered the kitchen she fought the irrational impulse to run into his arms, to feel the warmth of his body against hers.
“I called the sheriff. He should be here soon.” She was appalled to hear the quiver in her voice.
Sam took her by the arm and led her to a chair, where she sat and fought back tears. “I was going to take out the trash,” she said. “I’d only taken a couple of steps outside when I saw her.” She fought against a shudder than threatened to consume her body.
“Do you know her?”
She nodded. “Her name is Samantha Walker. She’s the divorced daughter of the mayor of Bachelor Moon.” She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to ward off the cold horror that still swept through her. “I can’t imagine who did this or what she was doing on my property.”
“Where is everyone else?” He sat in the chair next to hers and the scent of his clean, crisp cologne swept over her. It was oddly comforting.
“Frank and Jeff went home right after dinner, and Matt went out. Surely you don’t think any of them had anything to do with this?”
“I was just curious who was in the house. It looks like she was moved here after she was killed, and she’s been dead for quite a while.”
Daniella felt the burn of tears as a vision of Samantha filled her head. “I’ve never seen somebody like that…dead…murdered.” She fought against a shudder as Macy came into the kitchen clad in her pajamas.
She jumped up from her chair and pasted a smile on her face. “All ready for a tuck-in?”
“Yeah, but I want Mr. Sam to tuck me in, too.” She grabbed Sam’s hand and tugged at him. “Come on, I’ll show you my princess crown.”
Sam looked shocked, but rose to his feet, obviously understanding that Daniella wanted Macy in bed as soon as possible and not out here when the sheriff arrived or where she might get a peek at Samantha’s body.
Macy pulled Sam through the doorway that led to their private quarters. There was a sitting room, a bathroom and two small bedrooms. She followed them into Macy’s bedroom where the little girl crawled into the twin bed, pulled up the pink flowered sheet and patted the mattress beside her. “Here, have a seat, Mr. Sam.”
Sam looked at Daniella, obviously uncomfortable with the whole scene. Still, he eased down on the mattress as Daniella nodded. Macy opened the drawer in her nightstand and withdrew her glittery princess crown.
It was a surreal moment, her daughter proudly showing off her crown while a dead woman lay in the yard. Samantha Walker wasn’t the nicest woman in the world, but Daniella couldn’t imagine somebody wanting to murder her. And why had her body been left here?
“You want to see me wear my crown and do my princess walk?” Macy asked Sam.
“It’s bedtime now,” Daniella said firmly. “There will be another time to show off your princess walk.”
“It’s a pretty crown,” Sam said, as he stood.
“Thank you. It keeps away monsters,” Macy replied.
Daniella took the crown from her daughter and placed it back in the drawer. “Good night,” she said, then kissed Macy’s sweet cheek. “Sleep tight.”
“Good night, princess,” Sam said. A moment later he and Daniella left the bedroom and went back into the kitchen. “Will she get out of bed again?” he asked.
“I doubt it.” Daniella sat in one of the chairs at the small oak table and wondered what was taking the sheriff so long. “Macy has always been one of those unusual kids who loves to sleep. Bedtime has never been a problem with her.”
As he sat in the chair next to her, she was over whelmed by myriad emotions. “I’m so sorry that this has happened,” she said. “This isn’t business as usual for the bed-and-breakfast.”
He smiled, and once again she was struck by his handsomeness. “I didn’t think you arranged this scene strictly for your guests’ entertainment,” he said.
“I just can’t believe this is happening.” She felt sick, as if she’d never be able to dispel the vision of Samantha from her brain.
At that moment a knock came from the front door, and Daniella steeled herself not only for the investigation to come but also to deal with Sheriff Jim Thompson, who she thought was a cranky incompetent.
She was grateful for Sam’s presence just behind her as she opened the door to let Jim inside. “I hope this isn’t some sort of wild goose chase,” he said as he stepped into the foyer.
“I doubt if the dead woman beneath the tree on the side of the house considers this a wild goose chase,” Sam replied.
Jim drew himself up to his banty-rooster height and narrowed his eyes. “And you are?”
“Sam Connelly. I’m a guest here.”
“Jim, she’s been stabbed,” Daniella said. “It’s Samantha Walker.”
Jim’s grizzly gray eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “There’s going to be hell to pay with the mayor. Point me in the right direction and let’s get this investigation underway.”
They were all silent as they walked through the kitchen and Daniella pointed out the door. Sam followed Jim outside while she remained in the kitchen, the horror of the situation back in the center of her brain.
She sat at the table and closed her eyes, but instead of thinking about poor Samantha Walker she found her head filled with thoughts of Sam Connelly. Maybe because it was easier to think about how hot he was instead of how dead Samantha was.
And he was hot. It wasn’t just the fact that his tight jeans showcased slim hips, long legs and a tight butt, and his shoulders appeared wide enough to shoulder any trouble that might come his way. His electric blue eyes held a keen intelligence and a whisper of darkness that was daunting but also intriguing.
She frowned and rubbed the center of her forehead where a headache attempted to blossom. Something about Sam Connelly struck her on a strictly feminine level, made her remember that she was not only a healthy woman with desires, but also a very lonely woman.
The loneliness had grown more intense over the last year, when she’d finally given up ever hearing from her husband, Johnny, again. Sure, she had Macy and Frank and Jeff to fill some of the empty spaces in her life, but they couldn’t take the place of warm arms wrapping around her in the middle of the night, of that special smile that passed between lovers, of those moments of knowing you were in somebody’s heart, in their very soul, as they were in yours.
She mentally kicked herself. She didn’t know anything about Sam Connelly other than that he was from Kansas City and he’d paid for his accommodations here in advance with a major credit card. She didn’t know what he did for a living, what kind of man he was at heart, or if he had a significant other somewhere.
She got up from the table, moved to the back door and peered out. Sam and Jim stood to one side. Several other deputies had arrived, along with Dr. Earl Stanton, who in addition to his private practice, also worked as the coroner in the area.
Poor Samantha. Who could have done something so terrible to her? Certainly Samantha hadn’t been particularly well-liked by a lot of the people in town, but she hadn’t deserved this.
Murdered.
She’d been murdered. The horror once again struck Daniella like a fist in the pit of her stomach. It was like a nightmare, and she desperately wanted to wake up.
As she saw Sam and Jim start in the direction of the house, she backed away from the door. Both men looked grim as they came back into the kitchen.
“Earl thinks she was killed sometime early this afternoon at another location then left here,” Jim said. “Did she come out here to talk to you?”
“No, Samantha and I had no business with each other, and she rarely acknowledged me when we’d bump into each other in town. I can’t imagine why she’s here,” Daniella replied.
For the next thirty minutes the sheriff asked her questions about her activities that day, about how she had discovered the body and if she’d seen anyone unusual lurking about the place anytime in the last couple of days. She had no answers for him.
Finally he was finished with her. Within another thirty minutes the body had been removed, and everyone was gone except Sam and Daniella, who once again sat at the kitchen table.
“The sheriff didn’t act like you’re one of his favorite people,” Sam said.
“Five years ago my husband disappeared, and I not only made myself a nuisance to Jim, but at one point I called him an incompetent jerk who should be waiting tables instead of working investigations.”
“Ouch. So, is he incompetent?” Sam asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought he was when I was trying to find my husband, but that was just my personal opinion. I know he’s retiring at the end of the year, which will be a good thing.”
“Macy said her daddy got lost.” Sam leaned forward in his chair, his gaze intent as he gazed at her. “What happened to him?”
She could fall into those blue depths if she allowed herself. She reminded herself that even though he’d been a support, he was simply a guest who would be gone within two weeks.
“I wish I knew,” she answered. As always, thoughts of Johnny brought with them a faint edge of grief and a whisper of unresolved anger. “Five years ago he left here to drive into town to get diapers for Macy and he never came back. At first I thought maybe he’d been involved in an accident, but when I called Jim nobody had reported anything like that. I called Jeff, Johnny’s best friend, to see if he’d heard anything from him. He hadn’t, but he made the rounds of all the bars and hangouts in town looking for Johnny.”
How well she remembered that night. As the hours had worn on with no word from her husband she’d been frantic with worry, certain that something terrible had happened to the man she loved.
She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump that rose in the back of her throat. “When twenty-four hours had passed I went down to Jim’s office and filed an official missing-persons report. Jim told me he’d check around but that it wasn’t against the law for a husband to leave his wife.”
“Were you and your husband having marital problems?”
It was a personal question but Daniella didn’t take offense. Somehow, in the last couple of hours that passed with the investigation of a murder, between them had arisen a strange, false sense of intimacy.
“Johnny and I were high school sweethearts. We got married on the day I turned eighteen, and we shared the dream of buying this place and turning it into a successful bed-and-breakfast. We were married four years when I got pregnant with Macy. That same year my mother died, and we used the money from her life insurance policy to buy this place. Macy was two months old when we moved in, and for the next two months we painted and scrubbed and did everything we could to get this place ready to open.” She realized she was rambling, telling him more than he’d asked for, but it seemed important that he know the details.
“Things were good,” she continued. “We had the baby we wanted and were on our way to seeing our dream come true, and then he was just gone.”
“Was there an official investigation into his disappearance?” Sam asked.
“Eventually, but he and his car were never found. For a long time I entertained all kinds of ideas. He’d been in an accident and had hit his head and suffered amnesia. He was kidnapped at gunpoint and was being held captive for some unknown reason. Jim thought that he’d just walked away from the responsibility of the business, the baby and me, but I couldn’t imagine Johnny doing that. A year ago I finally decided to get a divorce on grounds of abandonment. And I’m sorry. I’ve bored you long enough.”
She pushed back from the table, embarrassed that she’d spilled so much personal information to him. “Thank you for all your support tonight, and now back to your regular scheduled vacation plans.” She stood and he did the same.
“If the sheriff needs to talk to you again and you want somebody there with you, just let me know,” he said.
She smiled gratefully at him. “Thanks, but I just hope you can put all this behind you and enjoy the rest of your time here. But I would understand if you want to leave and stay someplace else.” She froze as she saw her cordless phone on the counter. Suddenly she remembered the strange phone call she’d gotten earlier in the day.
“I’m not going anywhere for now. Daniella, is something wrong?” Sam took a step closer to her and once again she noticed the sexy scent of him.
“It’s probably nothing,” she said. “I just had a weird phone call this morning.”
“Weird how?”
Once again she was struck not only by the rich color of his eyes but by the hard edge of intelligence that shone there. “It was an anonymous call. I didn’t recognize the voice, but it sounded like he said ‘for you’ and then hung up.” A cold chill walked up her spine. “But surely it didn’t have anything to do with Samantha’s death. That just doesn’t make sense, does it?”
Sam held her gaze for a long moment. “Let’s hope not,” he finally said, but the answer did nothing to dispel the cold wind that blew through Daniella.

Chapter Three
For you.
The two words were the first thing that jumped into Sam’s head when he opened his eyes the next morning. The sun was already up, and his first impulse was to jump out of bed. Then he reminded himself that he was on vacation. There was no reason to hurry out of the comfortable bed.
For you.
The phone call to Daniella bothered him and had kept him tossing and turning until nearly dawn. Several things that had happened the night before had kept sleep at bay.
Daniella’s story of the disappearance of her husband had managed to touch the heart he’d thought had died years ago. It was a testament to her strength that she’d continued on here, making a success of this place all alone.
At least she didn’t have to worry about the crime shutting her down. It was obvious that the bed-and-breakfast was merely the dumping site, and the murder had occurred elsewhere. The victim was from town, with no ties to the business where her body had been found.
They could all speculate on why the body had been dumped in this particular place, but at the moment it would be only speculation.
The other thing that had bothered him was the sheriff’s attitude toward Daniella. Obviously he hadn’t gotten over whatever past was between them. His attitude had bordered on rude, and Sam had a feeling the sheriff had a little bully in him. At least he’d agreed to provide patrols in the area.
Still, his mind kept returning to that damned phone call she’d received.
For you.
Had Daniella misunderstood what the caller had said? Was the phone call tied to the murder? And if so, then what did it have to do with Daniella? She’d said she didn’t know Samantha that well, that they’d had no relationship to speak of.
When he had finally fallen asleep nightmares had tormented him. He dreamed of monsters, but they were familiar visions, part of the past he’d spent his adult life trying to forget.
He finally pulled himself out of bed and padded into the bathroom for a shower. As he started the water he reminded himself that he was on vacation, that none of this was his problem.
Minutes later, as he dried off, his thoughts once again turned to Daniella. He definitely had the hots for her. Even through the stress of the night before his senses had spun with her clean, floral scent. When he’d touched her even in the most simple way his heart had raced just a little faster and a surge of adrenaline had filled him.
As hard as she was to resist, he didn’t intend to follow through on his attraction. He realized the last thing she needed in her life was a dead-hearted bastard nicknamed the Prince of Darkness. There had been enough dark ness in her life. He didn’t need to infect her with any of his own.
It was just after nine when he made his way down to the dining room. He knew he was too late for breakfast but was hoping to find some coffee.
The house was silent and the dining room empty, with no coffee urn set up. He followed the sound of clinking dishes into the kitchen, where he found Daniella standing with her back to him at the sink.
She was clad in a pair of denim shorts that cupped her sexy butt and showcased her shapely legs. Her pink tank top accentuated her light tan, and the burst of adrenaline he was determined not to feel surged up inside of him.
“Am I too late for coffee?” he asked, irritated at his immediate response to her.
She whirled around to face him, her cheeks instantly filling with color. “Oh, you startled me.” She grabbed a towel from the counter and quickly dried her hands. “Have a seat and I’ll pour you a cup.” She pointed to the kitchen table, and as he slid into a chair she got a mug from the cabinet.
“It’s quiet around here this morning,” he said, once she’d poured his coffee.
“Matt is out, and Frank just left to take Macy on a play date with her best friend. Would you like some breakfast? I’d be happy to whip you up some eggs or something.”
He shook his head and wrapped his fingers around the warm coffee mug. “No thanks, I’ll just wait until lunch.” What he wanted to do was take his coffee and leave the kitchen, escape from the warmth of her eyes when she gazed at him, from the scent of her that lingered in the air.
But before he could escape she poured herself a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. “I want to thank you again for last night.” She reached up and tucked a strand of her shining blond hair behind a dainty ear. “Not only for supporting me when I talked to Jim, but also for listening to me ramble about Johnny and my past. I promise you I don’t usually burden my guests like that.”
“It wasn’t a burden, and I know that nothing about last night was business as usual.” He took a sip of his coffee and tried not to notice how soft, how silky, her hair looked, tried to ignore the impulse to reach out and tangle his fingers in the strands.
“You have a wife, Sam? Somebody significant in your life?”
Her question came out of left field and surprised him. “No, no wife, no girlfriend, no interest in having either,” he replied. “I like being unattached. What about you? You have a boyfriend? In the market for another marriage?” He wasn’t sure why he asked; it wasn’t like he cared.
“No boyfriend,” she replied. “As far as getting married again, I think you need a boyfriend to even think about it.”
“You and Jeff seem fairly close. Any romantic sparks there?”
She laughed, and the delightful sound of her laughter wrapped around the heart he professed he didn’t own. “Jeff was best man at my wedding, and at that time he promised Johnny that if anything happened to him he’d be there for me. He’s stayed true to his word. He’s like a big brother to me, but there certainly isn’t anything romantic between us.”
Sam would have bet his badge that Jeff felt far more for Daniella than brotherly feelings. The night before at dinner, he’d seen it in the man’s eyes each time Jeff had looked at Daniella.
“I’m not sure how I’d have kept it all together after Johnny disappeared if it wasn’t for Jeff and Frank,” she continued.
He knew he should get out of the kitchen, get away from her, but his body didn’t seem to be listening to his head. “How did Frank come to work for you?”
“Frank worked with Johnny at a factory in town, and they were friends. The plant closed about the same time we bought this place. Frank knew there was a small caretaker cabin on the other side of the pond, and Johnny agreed to hire him as a handyman and let Frank live there. He’s been with me ever since.”
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief as she got up from the table to answer it.
What in the hell was he doing sitting at the table chatting with her? Why did he find the shine of the sun on her hair so enchanting? The curve of her lips such a damned temptation?
Apparently he needed not only a vacation but a brain adjustment, as well. He definitely needed to get some distance from Daniella Butler, who made him think of rumpled bedsheets and sweet feminine curves and mindless, soul-searing sex.
He quickly drained his coffee mug and got up to carry it to the sink. He should be catching fish instead of fishing for information about a woman who he would never allow to matter to him.
He turned away from the sink and saw Daniella reentering the room, followed closely by a grim-looking Sheriff Jim Thompson.
“Jim has some more questions for me,” she said to Sam. The sparkle that had lit her eyes earlier was gone, replaced by dark worry. She sank down in a chair at the table, but both men remained standing.
“Several things have come up between last night and this morning that I find troubling,” Jim said. He directed a harsh gaze at Daniella. “I think maybe you haven’t been completely honest with me.”
“About what?” Daniella looked shocked.
Jim waved a hand toward Sam, as if to dismiss him. “I don’t think we need you here, Mr. Connelly.”
Sam didn’t like the way the sheriff stood too close to her chair, as if in an effort to intimidate her. He didn’t know what exactly was going on, but he wasn’t going to leave Daniella alone with the man.
“Consider my interest a professional one,” he said. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket, opened it and laid it in the center of the table, his FBI identity card exposed.
He was aware of Daniella’s look of surprise, but Jim looked none too happy at this new information. “This isn’t an FBI matter,” he said stiffly. “It’s a local one and we handle our own.”
“I understand that,” Sam said smoothly. “But Daniella wants me here while you speak to her, and so I have no intention of leaving at the moment.”
“The way I see it she doesn’t need an FBI man, although before this is all over she might need a good defense attorney,” Jim replied.
Daniella gasped. “Jim, dear God, what are you talking about?”
“I found out last night about Samantha’s plans…plans that would have put her in direct competition with you,” he said.
“What plans?” Daniella’s face had gone pale, and Sam fought the impulse to step closer to her, to touch her shoulder or pull her into his arms for support.
He’d known her for only twenty-four hours, but his gut instinct told him there was no way in hell she had anything to do with the murder of Samantha Walker, and his gut was rarely wrong.
“Samantha was planning on opening her own bed-and-breakfast. For the last couple of weeks she’s been going around town telling everyone the town wasn’t big enough for two of you and she intended to be top dog.”
Sam knew the shock on Daniella’s face was genuine. “I…I didn’t know,” she finally managed to say. “I hadn’t heard about her plans to open a bed-and-breakfast.”
“She would have been a tough competitor. She had plenty of money, and I figure it wouldn’t have been long before she put you right out of business,” Jim replied.
“Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with her murder?” Daniella jumped up out of her chair and faced the sheriff. “This is crazy. I had nothing to do with it. How could you even think such a thing?” She trembled with the force of her emotions, and her face paled even more.
“I’m sure the sheriff has other suspects,” Sam said, as he stepped closer to her.
“There have to be other suspects,” Daniella exclaimed. “Because I had nothing to do with this.”
“I’m just at the beginning of this investigation,” Jim said. “I just wanted to talk to you about this whole competing bed-and-breakfast thing.”
“You’d better be talking to somebody else because you’re wasting time talking to me,” Daniella replied. “I didn’t know about any plans Samantha had, and even if I did I wouldn’t have killed her.”
“I’ll see myself out,” Jim said. “I guess I don’t have to tell you not to leave town.” He didn’t wait for a reply but left the kitchen, and a moment later the front door slammed shut.
Daniella looked at Sam, her beautiful eyes filled with tears. She looked fragile, like she might fly into a million pieces, and before Sam recognized his intent he stepped forward and drew her into his arms.
She leaned into him, a trembling mass of tantalizing curves. Her hair smelled like a floral-scented summer breeze and he instantly realized his mistake in holding her so close.
She buried her face in the front of his T-shirt and released a deep, tremulous sigh as he patted her back awkwardly and tried to pretend he wasn’t aroused by her very nearness.
Finally she raised her head and looked up at him, her eyes dark with emotion. “I had nothing to do with this,” she said, her voice a half whisper.
“I know.” He dropped his arms from around her and took a step backward. Two words thundered in his brain.
For you.
For you.
He shoved his hands in his pockets as he held her gaze. “But I think it’s possible somebody you know did have something to do with it.” He didn’t think it was possible for blue eyes to go so dark, but hers were nearly black as she returned his gaze.
“The phone call,” she whispered, as if afraid to say the words out loud. She reached out and took his hands in hers. “Oh, Sam, what am I going to do?”
She squeezed his hands, and he felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he wondered how in the hell he was going to keep himself uninvolved from this crime and from this woman.

THIS WAS HER FAVORITE time of the day, when dinner was finished and the dishes were done and Daniella had a little downtime to enjoy.
As the day had worn on Daniella had almost managed to convince herself that she’d misunderstood the words the anonymous caller had said to her.
The voice had been strange and she’d had to strain to hear what he’d said. It was possible he’d only said something that sounded like for you.
She now sat on the front porch and watched Macy doing cartwheels across the lawn. The sun rode low in the sky, and the heat of the day had eased to a pleasant temperature, but her mind was far away from her daughter’s acrobatic skills and the weather.
She’d called Jim earlier in the day to tell him about the phone call, and as she’d explained it to him she’d thought she’d heard the sound of nails being driven into her coffin.
How could Jim believe that she had anything to do with Samantha’s murder? And how could she possibly believe that anyone close to her was capable of such a thing? It was too awful to even consider.
Most of the afternoon she’d thought about the supportive people in her life, and there was no way she could imagine any of them doing something so heinous. She’d known Frank and Jeff for years, and they’d never shown any hint that they were capable of such violence.
She smelled him before she saw him, that crisp, clean scent that tightened something in the pit of her stomach. She turned her head and smiled as Sam stepped out on the porch.
“How are you doing?” he asked, as he eased down into the wicker chair next to hers.
“Okay. I’ve spent most of the day thinking about everything, about who might be responsible for Samantha’s murder.”
“Did you come up with any answers?”
“No, but I can tell you this—Samantha wasn’t a popular woman in town. She had more money than she knew what to do with and never let anyone forget it. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Samantha was a petty, mean woman. Over the last couple of years I’ve heard rumors about all kinds of businesses she intended to open—a beauty shop, a restaurant and an upscale boutique—but none of them ever materialized. I wouldn’t have worried if I’d heard that she was on a bed-and-breakfast kick. Anyone who knew Samantha knew she was big on talk and never followed through.”
“Then Jim has his hands full with the investigation,” Sam replied. “Hopefully he’s up to the job.”
“Hopefully he is, because I don’t want to go to jail for something I had nothing to do with.”
“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he said gruffly.
His words created a ball of warmth in her stomach, a warmth she hadn’t felt for a very long time. Watch out, she told herself. He’s just a guest and nothing more.
“Mr. Sam!” Macy yelled. “Watch this!” She did a series of cartwheels and then stood proudly, waiting for his response.
“That’s great,” he said, as if surprised that she would want his approval.
Macy ran up to the porch. “I didn’t get to show you my princess walk last night, so I’ll do it now.”
Before he or Daniella could respond, Macy tore into the house where Daniella knew she was fetching her crown.
“She has a lot of energy,” Sam said.
Daniella laughed. “That’s probably the understatement of the century. She’s opinionated and maybe more than a little bit spoiled, but she really is a good kid. She has a tremendous heart and she loves people.”
At that moment the door opened and Macy pranced out, her glittery crown firmly in place on top of her head. “Are you ready, Mr. Sam?”
“I think I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied.
Macy ran to the far end of the porch. “This is my official princess walk.” The walk was less princess and more fairy sprite as she danced her way back to them.
“I do believe that was the finest princess walk I’ve ever seen,” Sam said when she’d finished.
Daniella flashed him a grateful smile and then looked at her daughter. “And now it’s time for the princess to go take a bath. It’s not nice for a princess to smell like a day of grit and grime.”
Macy looked at Sam. “And maybe tomorrow I can have a princess tea party, and you can come and be my guest of honor.”
“No time for tea parties tomorrow,” Daniella said. “I have new guests arriving, and besides, Mr. Sam has other things to do.”
“Okay, then we’ll have a tea party another day,” Macy said agreeably. She disappeared into the house to get ready for her bath and Daniella once again turned to look at Sam.
“I’m sorry, she seems to have taken a liking to you.”
He offered her a small smile and gazed out in the distance. “Guess there’s no accounting for taste.”
No, there was no accounting for taste, she mentally agreed. And whatever had bitten her daughter when it came to Sam Connelly had bitten Daniella just a little bit, as well.
“How long have you been an FBI agent?” she asked, as she relaxed against the back of the wicker chair.
He turned back to look at her, and as always she found the blue of his eyes intoxicating. “I joined the agency when I was twenty-two, fresh out of college and eager to catch the bad guys.”
“What exactly is it that you do?” Usually with guests she kept her distance, didn’t try to find out personal details about them except what they liked to eat and how they liked their rooms kept. But, she wanted to know more about this man with his eyes that alternately filled with humor and darkened with demons. Besides, talking about him was far better than thinking about the horror show her life had become over the last twenty-four hours.
“I’m a profiler,” he replied.
“So you profile killers?” she asked with interest.
“Actually, profiling starts with us looking closely at the victims of crimes. We learn everything we can about them and that gives us an idea of the killer. Then we try to get into the head of the person who committed the crime. We try to figure out what drives them, what wants or needs they have and finally what weakness they might possess that would allow us to catch them.”
“Must be fascinating.”
“It is,” he agreed. “It’s also intense and all-consuming and takes me to some very dark places.”
“Your parents must be very proud of you.” She noticed the tension that had begun to radiate from him as he spoke of his work.
“My parents are dead.” His tone was flat, emotion less.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
An awkward silence fell between them as he once again directed his gaze into the distance. Dusk was falling quickly, layering the dark shadows of approaching night all around. She knew she should go inside. She had a ton of things to do for the new arrivals the next day, but she was reluctant to leave the porch, to leave Sam.
“Bachelor Moon,” he said, breaking the silence. “It’s kind of an odd name. How did it come about?”
She smiled. “Legend has it that Larry Bridges, our founding father, was standing in the center square one evening beneath a full moon. Larry was a confirmed bachelor, but that night a mysterious, beautiful woman appeared, and within six months they were married. He named the town Bachelor Moon. Legend has it that when a single man stands in that particular place in the town square beneath a full moon he will be wed within six months. There’s even a statue denoting the specific place to stand.”
“And I assume this legend brings its fair share of tourists to the area?”
She smiled. “That’s what legends are for.” Once again she thought that she should go inside, that Macy needed her bath so she could be tucked into bed.

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