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A Not-So-Innocent Seduction
Janice Maynard
Taming the UntamableSecrets have never appealed to Liam Kavanagh. Not since his father disappeared, leaving Liam responsible for the Kavanagh family and their empire with little room for anything else. But when the mysterious Zoe Chamberlain breezes into his life, stirring up all kinds of pent-up frustrations, Liam knows there's more to her vagabond lifestyle than she's letting on. He can see the secrets in her eyes–and he wants her anyway. Will she be more than his orderly life can handle? Or will Liam's strong embrace finally allow this free spirit to put down roots and love again?


“I don’t want to fall in love with you, Liam.”
The shock of her words knocked him back half a step. He ran a hand across the back of his neck. “I don’t know how to answer that. And besides, I don’t think you’re in much danger. According to someone I know, I’m bossy and uptight and judgmental and I have a king complex.”
“Don’t forget arrogant.”
He held out his hands. “See? You have nothing to worry about.”
They continued walking, but his mind was not on the magnificent scenery. Had Zoe been expecting some sort of reciprocal response on his part after she made her veiled statement about having feelings for him? Had he hurt her by remaining silent? And did he want her to love him? Did he want to love her?
* * *
A Not-So-Innocent Seduction
is part of The Kavanaghs of Silver Glen series:
In the mountains of North Carolina, one family discovers that wealth means nothing without love
A Not-So-Innocent Seduction
Janice Maynard


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JANICE MAYNARD is a USA TODAY bestselling author who lives in beautiful east Tennessee with her husband. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary school teacher to pursue writing full-time. Now her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance stories.
Janice loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books. Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com (http://www.janicemaynard.com), and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.


For Charles—my husband, my best friend.
I could dedicate every book to you and never run out of reasons why. Thanks for being my hero. :)
Contents
Chapter One (#u684193bf-af0a-5495-a934-256b76da8808)
Chapter Two (#u5175d4b6-e242-51be-878a-cdd172e976f7)
Chapter Three (#u125ec613-2887-5cfa-b88d-4b345deea280)
Chapter Four (#u3cf0b3f6-7ae3-5475-991b-e43cabeea76b)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Zoe Chamberlain’s vintage Volkswagen van, aqua and white with yellow daisies stenciled on the doors, rolled to a halt in the scenic vista pull-off and gave up the ghost. She wasn’t too surprised. The engine had been rebuilt three times. But like knowing an aging pet was living on borrowed time, it was hard to imagine letting go.
More than anything or anyone else, Bessie—Zoe’s VW bus—was the constant in a life that rarely stayed the same from one week to the next. Apparently, Bessie had decided that Silver Glen, North Carolina, was Zoe’s next stop.
Zoe stepped out of the van, yawning and stretching, enjoying the cool morning air and the April sunshine. At her feet, spread out in a narrow valley between two mountainsides, lay a charming town. From this distance the houses and businesses looked like an alpine postcard. Switzerland in miniature.
Unfortunately, the quaint village did not have taxi service. As she scrolled through the options on her phone’s search function, she grimaced. Her only choice for transportation appeared to be the Silver Beeches Lodge, a pricey hotel that offered shuttle service. Presumably, they had in mind trips back and forth to the nearest airport, but Zoe had no doubts about her ability to wrangle a ride.
A nomadic lifestyle meant getting along with all sorts of people in all manner of places. Zoe could blarney with the best of them. And she’d been told that her smile could melt the hardest of curmudgeons.
So here she was again. A new town. A new set of problems to handle. In her heart of hearts she knew this couldn’t go on much longer. She was tired of running. And her recent illness had taken more out of her than she first realized. The excitement of seeing new horizons every week—sometimes every morning—was beginning to pall. Though she tried to ignore it, a feeling of yearning grew ever stronger. Yearning to put down roots, to feel a part of something bigger than she was.
She had used a quest for adventure as justification for her cowardice. Yes, she had seen the world. And yes, travel was broadening. But the truth was, her past was going to catch up with her. If not here, then in the next place.
It was time to face her demons and take a stand, but she wasn’t ready yet. First, she needed rest and time to recoup. Making such a change would be scary.
The town below seemed incredibly peaceful. At this moment in her life, peace was a commodity to be craved. Maybe Silver Glen could offer her that. First on the agenda would be leisure and complete recovery. Once she was back on her feet, both in mind and body, she’d be ready for whatever happened. Hopefully.
She patted Bessie’s fender and sighed. “Well, old girl. I guess this is where I’m hanging my hat for a little while. I’ll get you towed as soon as I can. In the meantime, enjoy the view.”
* * *
Liam Kavanagh spotted the slender blonde the moment she set foot in the lobby. She would be hard to miss under any circumstances, but carrying a guitar case and wearing a multicolored cotton skirt that swished around her ankles, she looked like a 1960s love child returning from an outdoor rock concert. The bounce in her step and the upward curve of her lips gave her a girl-next-door appeal.
The highly trained staff at the Silver Beeches knew to greet guests with warmth and charm. Liam had watched them in action time and again. He rarely took the time to personally interact with visitors unless they were close friends of his.
He didn’t know this woman. At all. But some powerful response propelled his feet forward. Before Pierre, the concierge, could offer to help, Liam intercepted the eye-catching female. “Welcome to the Silver Beeches Lodge. May I help you?”
The woman hitched a large raffia tote higher on her shoulder and gave him a winsome smile. Her eyes were the blue of a summer sky. “I’d like to check in, please.”
He lifted a mental eyebrow. Rooms in the hotel started at eight hundred a night and went up from there. This beautiful creature hardly seemed the type to avail herself of the upscale amenities, but he’d been surprised before. “Do you have a reservation?” he asked.
“I do. Made it online an hour ago. Is that a problem?”
He deserved her frown. The tone of his voice had come across as suspicious. He shrugged. “Of course not. I thought I had looked at all of today’s check-ins, but I must have missed yours since it was recent. Welcome.” He motioned for her to accompany him. “Marjorie, there at the desk, will take care of you. Please let me know if you need anything at all. Our wish is to make you as comfortable as possible.”
“So gallant,” she said, smiling at him in a way that made the back of his neck hot.
Was she mocking him? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had accused him of being too serious. “It’s what we do,” he said, wincing at the stiffness he heard in his response. He didn’t intend to be a stuffed shirt, but he’d been the head of a large and rowdy family since his father disappeared over two decades ago. The weight of his responsibility—and a certain bitterness about his father’s lack thereof—didn’t leave much room for lightheartedness.
He nodded briefly and excused himself as Marjorie took over. Crossing the lobby to where Pierre held court, he kept an eye on the newcomer. “Not our usual clientele.”
Pierre pursed his lips. In his sixties now, he had worked for the Kavanagh family since he was a young man. He wore his formal black tuxedo with pride and ruled his realm with a firm hand. “Pretty,” he said.
Liam nodded absently. He couldn’t place her age. Pale skin so pure and fine it seemed almost translucent made her seem youthful, but in her serene gaze he saw the patina of experience. He wasn’t sure why she fascinated him so. Perhaps because she was the antithesis of the expertly made-up women who often checked into the Lodge.
Visitors to the Silver Beeches were either retirees with plenty of disposable income, younger generations whose careers afforded them fame and fortune, or merely those who wanted to hide from the world. Privacy was an unspoken amenity. From rock stars to movie idols, from politicians to European royalty, every guest was pampered.
As a bellman came in from outside with the new guest’s single suitcase, Marjorie handed a key card to the young woman and pointed her toward the elevators. When the bellman and his charge disappeared, Marjorie slipped from behind the desk and approached Liam and Pierre.
Liam frowned slightly. “Problem?”
Marjorie, a stout woman in her mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, shook her head. “Not exactly. But I thought you’d want to know. She booked a basic room for six weeks.”
Both men stared at her. Liam recovered first, though his gut tightened with unease. “Any problem with authorizing her method of payment?”
The seasoned receptionist shook her head. “Platinum card. No limit. But tell me—who books a reservation like that on the day of arrival? Spontaneity is one thing, but this is weird, don’t you think?”
Liam kept his expression neutral with effort. Red flags were popping up all over the place, but he didn’t want his staff to see that he was perturbed. “I’m sure she has her reasons.”
Pierre straightened his spine, his gaze fierce. “I’ll keep an eye on her, sir. If there’s any funny business, I’ll let you know.”
Maeve Kavanagh appeared from the direction of the back stairs, her bun slightly askew and her reading glasses dangling from a chain around her neck. Liam’s mother was a vibrant sixty-year-old with dark snapping eyes and a nose for sniffing out trouble. “You all three look like you’ve eaten a lemon. What’s going on?”
Liam kissed her on the cheek. “Not a thing. Marjorie checked in a new guest. We were merely speculating about her background.”
Maeve sniffed. “Not your place,” she said firmly. “You know I can’t abide gossip.”
Liam smiled wryly. “Yes, ma’am. I remember.” Inwardly, he was far less amused. The irregularities about the new guest’s booking set his teeth on edge. He hated mysteries and secrets. His father’s hidden life had nearly destroyed their family. And in the end had led to Reggie Kavanagh’s premature death.
The one trait Liam couldn’t abide in a woman, or a man for that matter, was a predilection to bend the truth. Even if the potential prevaricator came wrapped in a very appealing package.
Before he could give in to the temptation to initiate further contact with the blonde, he managed a smile for his mother and Pierre and Marjorie. “If you three will excuse me, I have some calls to make.” Striding down the hall to his office, he told himself he was jumping to conclusions. The newcomer could have any number of valid reasons for deciding on the spur of the moment to stay alone at a pricey hotel for six weeks.
Trouble was, despite his best efforts, Liam couldn’t come up with a single one.
* * *
Zoe grilled the bellman on the way upstairs. “So tell me. Who’s the yummy guy that looks like a young Harrison Ford?”
The teenage bellhop grinned. “That’s Mr. Kavanagh. Mr. Liam Kavanagh. His family owns the Silver Beeches. Well, that and most of the town, as well.”
“He works for a living?” She was surprised. In her experience, the überrich kept to themselves as much as possible.
The young man waited politely for her to step out of the elevator when they reached the top floor. “Every one of the Kavanagh men does something. They were brought up to respect a hard day’s work, even though the whole family is richer than God. Mr. Liam manages the hotel along with his mother.”
Inside the room, Zoe reached in her bag for a generous tip that made the kid’s eyes light up. “Thanks for your help,” she said.
He bowed awkwardly. “All you have to do is dial the front desk if you need anything. Room service is available 24/7. In the center drawer of the dresser you’ll find listings about all the restaurants here and off-site as well. Welcome to Silver Glen.”
Alone in her luxurious new quarters, Zoe opened the armoire and smiled as she imagined how little of the space her belongings would fill. Learning to travel light had been a necessary lesson, and one she had mastered long ago. Nevertheless, she carefully unloaded her suitcase and put away everything she had brought with her. Being neat was perhaps a relic of her parents’ influence, the one trait she couldn’t shake.
There were still a few items in the van, but nothing she needed urgently. She turned in a slow circle, taking in every detail of her new accommodations. Here in the mountains of North Carolina, one might have expected a more rustic decor, but the Silver Beeches Lodge was elegant in the extreme.
The lobby alone telegraphed that message. Italian marble floors. Sparkling chandeliers. Priceless Oriental rugs of massive size. Enormous urns filled with fresh flowers. It had taken Zoe only moments to decide that Bessie had been correct about her silent suggestion. Zoe needed to rest, and this lovely hotel promised to be peaceful.
Never mind that it cost an arm and a leg. Her usual lifestyle was lean and frugal, so this splurge would not break the bank. Besides, after the winter she had endured, she deserved a little pampering.
Walking barefoot across the plush ivory carpet, she opened her guitar case and removed the instrument. The comfy bay-window seat was covered in crimson velvet. Poor Bessie would never have made it up the incline to the hotel. The Silver Beeches Lodge had literally been built into the side of the mountaintop, and its location gave guests a bird’s-eye view of the valley floor far below.
Zoe curled her legs beneath her and bent her head over the instrument that had traveled so many miles with her. Strumming it absently, she hummed a tune that had been dancing in her head. She’d had to resist the urge to coax the bellhop into lingering for a bit to answer her questions about the hotel owner. Just because she was lonely was no reason to get the kid in trouble.
Her reaction to meeting Liam Kavanagh was the equivalent of experiencing a crush on a movie star. His in-your-face masculinity made her feel dainty and feminine. She might even have swooned a little bit. Even now, her throat flushed as she remembered the way he looked at her. The man was a walking fantasy. She glanced out the window and sighed.
Night was falling rapidly, and shadows crept across the valley. Her stomach rumbled. She remembered that her last meal had been an orange and a Diet Coke at a rest stop on I-40. She wished she could go into town and explore, but until Bessie was fixed, she was stuck here in the hotel. Dialing room service, she ordered a large dinner, including a serving of tiramisu. She was still a good fifteen pounds underweight, so the extra calories wouldn’t hurt her.
She’d spent the last week in Asheville playing at a little coffee shop in the downtown district. Asheville was filled with artists and performers and had a character and charm that delighted her. If she’d had her way, she might have bought a place and put down some roots. But one evening she had seen a familiar face on the street, and she had known it was time to move on. The hotel’s strict privacy policy would stand her in good stead. No one would know she was here, and if she wore a bit of a disguise in town, she might be able to stay for even longer than the month and a half she had booked.
After finishing her larger-than-normal meal, she felt both satiated and guilty. Changing into yoga pants and a sports bra, she checked the hotel directory and discovered that the workout facility was located on the basement level. She threw a light jacket over her shoulders, more for modesty than anything else, grabbed her room key and a bottle of water, and slipped out the door.
* * *
Liam strained with all his might as he lifted the challenging weights in one last rep. Red-faced and sweating, he wiped his forehead and neck with a towel, realizing ruefully that the punishing exercise had not dulled the throbbing arousal that plagued him.
He wasn’t sporting an erection, but his body hummed with the need for sex. It had been too long, and the blonde who checked in that afternoon was exactly the type he found irresistible. Her silky hair brushed her shoulder blades. Though she was thin, her curves were all woman.
If she was staying for an entire six weeks, he would have to be on his guard. Just because he felt a visceral interest in Ms. Zoe Chamberlain didn’t mean the feelings were reciprocated. And because there was clearly more to Zoe than met the eye, he wouldn’t allow himself to pursue the attraction. Most men were vulnerable to a sexy woman. But Liam understood the consequences of becoming entangled with a liar.
If he had to choose between satisfying the burning in his gut and being won over by a con, he would take a lot of cold showers. Zoe’s seeming innocence was dangerous. He’d learned the hard way at age sixteen that a pretty face could disguise a multitude of sins. He would cut off his hand before he ever put his mother and siblings through that kind of pain again. As the head of the Kavanaghs, his loyalty to his family superseded any fleeting attraction he might experience.
Besides, for all he knew, Zoe could be married. He couldn’t imagine any husband in his right mind letting such a fresh, appealing woman take a solo six-week vacation, but who knows? The Silver Beeches had seen more than its share of odd relationships over the years.
After showering and changing back into his dress shirt and slacks, he wandered out into the gym only to stop dead when he saw his new guest walking briskly on a treadmill. Her slender frame resonated with life and passion. At the moment, she was the only occupant of the facility other than himself, and he didn’t want to startle her. She was wearing earbuds attached to an iPod tucked into a hot-pink armband. Her ponytail swung energetically in time to the music only she could hear.
Despite his lofty intentions and self-lecturing, he was drawn to her as inexorably as a green boy seeing his first seminude woman. His heartbeat picked up even as his breathing grew choppy. Telltale signs that his libido was far more powerful than his intellect.
Deciding to take the long way around to the door, Liam assumed she would see him in her peripheral vision and thus not be alarmed. But even though he stayed far to the other side of the room, as soon as she caught sight of him, she hopped off the treadmill, shut it down and removed her earphones. “Hello, Mr. Kavanagh.”
As she walked toward him, he studied the sensual grace in her movements. “You know who I am?” Though he tried to keep his gaze on her face, only a saint could ignore the rest of her body. Her Lycra-covered curves were mesmerizing.... That and the sheen of perspiration on her skin. He imagined she would look just this way after an enthusiastic round of lovemaking.
She nodded, wiping her forehead with her forearm. “I pumped the bellman for details about you. A failing of mine. Curiosity killed the cat, and all that.”
Liam liked knowing she was interested enough to ask questions. That was a good sign if he planned on pursuing her. Which he wouldn’t. Probably. He ran a hand through his hair, knowing from her expression that she had recognized his sexual interest. “A fairly minor sin, I’d say. Are you satisfied with your room?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? It’s amazing. The view alone is worth the price. Your hotel is beautiful.”
“Thank you. My family built it just after World War II. And we’ve continued to add on and make improvements as the years go by.” He’d never had any trouble talking to women, but for some reason he didn’t understand, Zoe made his palms sweat. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, nor the most polished. Usually, people were intimidated by him, not vice versa. He couldn’t say why he was bungling what should have been a casual, polite encounter, but he was sure she didn’t want to hear a documentary on the Silver Beeches. “I’d better get back upstairs.”
She cocked her head. “Was your offer sincere?”
“I beg your pardon?” Her artless question befuddled him.
“You said you would do anything to make me comfortable. I’m merely asking if that was standard hotel hyperbole, or if you meant it.”
He felt his neck get warm. Was she coming on to him, or was she merely eccentric? “Of course, I meant it. Was there something you wanted?”
* * *
Zoe supposed it would be poor form to blurt out You! Even if his intensity and unsmiling sexiness definitely flipped her switches. She was having a hard time reading Liam Kavanagh. He seemed interested in her the way a man is interested in a woman he wants, but on the other hand, his body language telegraphed a definite wariness. Maybe he felt like she was too bourgeois to stay at his fancy hotel.
If that were the case, she wouldn’t disabuse him. She was a pro at keeping secrets. Perhaps Liam might have a few of his own. Could two people with such defenses in place make any kind of connection?
Her walkabout ways the last few years had made it virtually impossible to sustain any kind of deep relationship with a man. Since she wasn’t into casual hookups, she ended up alone most of the nights of her life. Ordinarily, she was able to convince herself that solitude was preferable to intimacy with a guy who might turn out to be a jerk.
But now, with Liam Kavanagh in touching distance, she was suddenly and intensely aware of how long it had been since she’d been with a man. She was young and healthy. Liam exuded all sorts of breath-stealing pheromones. She had a gut feeling that his experience was exponentially ahead of hers...and that he was the kind of man a woman never forgot.
What frightened her was the knowledge that he was unlike any man she had ever wanted before. Was her whole life about to change? She’d been prepared to face her mistakes. But Liam was a bend in the road she hadn’t anticipated. Could she deal with the complicated past and the intriguing present all at once? He didn’t appear to be a man who would be easily handled.
Clearing her throat, she summoned a cheeky smile. Liam’s wary courtesy made her want to ruffle his feathers. “I’ve never been to Silver Glen before,” she said. “How about buying me a drink in the bar and giving me a quick rundown of the must-sees.” She knew how to flirt. It came naturally to her upbeat personality despite the fact that she lived like a nun most of the time.
He appeared taken aback by her request. But he recovered rapidly, his gaze scanning her from head to toe with an assessment that was as personal as her deliberate come-on. “I could do that.”
A nasty thought occurred to her. “I suppose I should ask. Is there a Mrs. Kavanagh?”
He nodded, sending her heart to her knees. “Yes. My mother. But she goes to bed early, so I doubt she’d want to join us.”
“So you do have a sense of humor,” she taunted, refusing to admit—even to herself—that she was elated by the confirmation that he was single. Not all married men wore wedding rings, so she hadn’t been sure. “I was beginning to think they removed your funny bone at birth.”
His lips twitched. “I’m guessing you weren’t spanked enough as a kid.”
“And there you’d be wrong,” she said, her stomach twisting involuntarily. “Let me shower and I’ll join you in the lobby in half an hour. Does that work for you?”
He nodded slowly, regarding her with watchful eyes that were a brilliant, intense blue. Combined with his thick, coal-black hair, she began to see the Irish ancestry his name suggested.
She’d provoked him, and now he regarded her with a narrow-eyed gaze. “I’ll be there, Ms. Chamberlain. And I’ll have the kitchen deliver some special hors d’oeuvres to the bar.”
“I’ve already had dinner,” she felt compelled to point out.
“You’ll enjoy these,” he promised. “Nothing too heavy.”
“Does every guest get this personal treatment?”
Now, there was no mistaking his interest. “Only the ones who ask,” he said, the words calm and crisp. “I’ll see you shortly.”
* * *
Zoe decided not to shower in the dressing room. She hadn’t brought clean clothes with her, so it was easier to dart back up to her room and use the sumptuous facilities that made her feel decadent and a bit naughty. The clothes she’d had on earlier were somewhat travel-weary, so she reached in the armoire for a slinky black knit dress that packed like a dream. It showed every curve of her body, but she had worn it enough times to feel at ease in the sexy garment. Most of a woman’s appearance was dictated by confidence. Since she had learned stage presence long ago, it was easy to project an image, even if she didn’t feel her best inside.
Timidity and nerves could be disguised. In some of her darker moments—when faced with a bully or an amorous drunk who didn’t want to back off—she’d learned that the only way to prevail was to act like she didn’t give a damn. How many times over the years had she done exactly that? Liam was no doubt a perfectly lovely man, but the ability to appear comfortable when she was uncertain of an outcome would stand her in good stead.
Shaking off the dark memories, she inserted small gold studs in her earlobes and slipped her feet into black patent high-heeled sandals. The sleeveless dress was fairly modest except for the fact that it hugged her body. She glanced in the mirror and sighed. How long had it been since she shared an elegant meal with a man?
Most of the time, she was the music in the background of someone else’s life. She had planned it that way...enjoyed it mostly. But tonight, she looked forward to enjoying Liam Kavanagh’s courtly manners. And perhaps slipping past his facade of propriety.
She spritzed perfume at her ears and wrists and slipped a delicate gold chain around her neck. It hung between her breasts and caught the light. Somewhere, in a safety-deposit box far away, she had a large collection of expensive jewelry...pearls, diamonds, semiprecious stones. But as long as she played the role of gypsy, her baubles would go unclaimed. She didn’t care. Not really. But tonight it would have been nice to gild the lily with a bit of sparkly, feminine bling.
Taking a deep breath, she tucked her room key and phone into a small bag and headed for the door. Liam Kavanagh was downstairs, and she didn’t intend to keep him waiting.
Two
Liam bobbled his glass of wine—splashing a few drops on his hand—when Zoe walked into the bar. All heads swung in her direction, though she appeared oblivious to the interest she drew. Finally, he pinpointed part of her allure. It was the way she moved...graceful, energetic, as if she were always off on a delightful adventure.
Liam had been standing by the bar talking to the female bartender. With a lift of his hand, he caught Zoe’s attention, hoping his smile appeared more natural than it felt. His limbs tingled and his chest tightened. The physical manifestations of his arousal were disconcerting. He’d had a number of lovers in his adult life. He understood sexual hunger. But the intensity of his response to Zoe rattled him.
The dress she wore should have been outlawed. Even the harshest of critics would have to concede that it was modest in cut. A shallow scooped neck front and back, plus a hemline that covered her ankles, might have added up to a demure appearance. But the soft, pliable fabric slid over Zoe’s phenomenal body like a second skin.
He spent a good thirty seconds searching for any evidence that she wore underwear.
“Hello, Liam,” she said, her voice smooth as cream. “May I call you that?”
He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “I think you just did.”
Chuckling softly, she allowed him to seat her at a table for two tucked away in a shadowy corner. The bar was crowded tonight. He was glad. The public setting gave him time to get to know her and to decide if she was any kind of threat. Kissing her later seemed a foregone conclusion, but he would at least pretend to himself that he had a choice.
She glanced around the room. “Nice place. You and your family have good taste.”
“Thank you. I’m assuming you won’t be offended if I use your first name as well?”
“Of course not.”
“We’ve only just met. Some people prefer a bit of formality.”
“Not me. Social conventions get in the way.”
“In the way of what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Becoming friends, I suppose.”
He took a sip of his wine, trying to read the subtext, if there was any. Before he could reply, a waiter appeared and set a plate of appetizers in front of them. Small wedges of melon and scallops wrapped in prosciutto had been skewered with toothpicks. He selected one and held it out. “Our chef is spectacular. Try a bite.”
He’d anticipated an argument. Instead, her lips parted and she leaned forward, allowing him to slide the delicacy between her lush, glossy, pale-pink lips. “Wonderful,” she said, after she chewed and swallowed. “Thank you.”
The sensuality and simple enjoyment in her response made him shift restlessly in his chair. As she sat back and smiled at him, her wavy golden hair swung around her shoulders. He couldn’t decide if she was trying to be provocative, or if he was overly sensitive to her allure.
At that moment, his mother appeared at his shoulder. “Hope I’m not interrupting. Please introduce me to this lovely girl,” she said.
A waiter scurried over with a third chair, and Liam stood until his mother was seated. Maeve Kavanagh had never been able to resist poking her nose into Liam’s affairs, either literal or metaphorical ones. Because he loved her dearly, he tolerated her interference, particularly since he hoped to get her impressions of the mysterious blonde. “Zoe Chamberlain, meet Maeve Kavanagh, my mother.”
The two women shook hands. Zoe grinned wryly. “I’m happy to meet you. But you’re far too young to be Liam’s mother. I think he gave me the wrong impression when he described you.” She crossed her legs beneath the table, the toe of her shoe brushing the crease in his trouser leg. Was she doing that on purpose?
Maeve shot him a glance that made the tops of his ears heat. “My firstborn has an odd sense of humor at times. We make allowances for him.” She helped herself to an appetizer. “What brings you to Silver Glen, Ms. Chamberlain? Business or vacation?”
“Call me Zoe, please. And actually, it’s neither. I had a nasty bout of pneumonia back in March. Spent a few days in the hospital. Since then I’ve been taking things easy. Your beautiful hotel seemed like the perfect place to rest and regain my stamina.”
“You’ve come to the right spot. We’ll pamper you so well you won’t want to go home.”
Serious illness explained her fragile appearance. Which led Liam to more questions. He inserted himself into the conversation. “And on that note, where is home, Zoe?”
For the first time, he saw her good humor waver. A shadow crossed her expressive face. But she recovered quickly. “I was born in Connecticut, but I haven’t lived there in years.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
Her jaw tightened. “Am I being interrogated?”
Maeve Kavanagh’s phone buzzed, signaling the arrival of a text. She glanced at it and grimaced. “Duty calls.” She stood and patted Liam’s shoulder. “Try not to alienate our newest guest, son. I’d like her to stay for a while.”
In the silence that followed his mother’s departure, Liam stared moodily at his tablemate. “Since when is polite conversation categorized as interrogation?”
She shrugged. “So far, the conversation has been pretty one-sided. I’m picking up weird vibes from you. Is there a problem you want to talk about?”
“No.” Yes. “Feel free to cross-examine me if it will make you feel better. My family is an open book. Ask anyone in town. They’ll tell you.”
“There’s no such thing as a clan without skeletons in the closet. But I’ll take you at your word. Do you have siblings?”
“More than I care to count. It’s the Irish Catholic thing. My mother deserves sainthood.”
“And your father?”
He couldn’t help the wave of anger that made his entire body go rigid. “He died when I was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry.” Her response was quiet. In her steady gaze he saw recognition of his turmoil. But he didn’t want anyone psychoanalyzing him. He ate another appetizer, his gaze drifting over the noisy but genteel crowd. “It was a long time ago,” he muttered, and was relieved when she allowed the subject to drop.
“Did you always know you wanted to run the hotel?”
“No. In fact, I had dreams of becoming a major-league football player.”
Her jaw dropped and she laughed out loud.
He scowled. “What’s so funny?”
You don’t really seem the type.”
“I can assure you, Zoe, I’ve played more than my share of high school and college sports.”
“I wasn’t impugning your athletic ability or your masculinity. It’s just that you seem rather sophisticated for the rough-and-tumble world of professional sports.”
“Sophistication is nothing more than clothes and demeanor. After my father’s death, it became clear that my studies were headed in a new direction. As soon as I finished an MBA, I returned home to assist my mother.”
“Did you really have no choice?” It sounded like more than a rhetorical question.
“No one dragged me back in chains, if that’s what you mean. But I felt the obligation of being the oldest. The others were still growing up. It was me or no one.”
“I see.”
His explanation seemed to bother her, though he couldn’t fathom why. “At the risk of sounding nosy, what did you study in college?”
“I spent four semesters at Vassar. Decided I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, so I dropped out and joined the Peace Corps.”
“Are you serious?” More and more he got the impression that she was a throwback to the 1960s.
“It was wonderful,” she said simply. “And eye-opening. I was young and naive and had no clue that extreme third-world poverty existed.”
“Your parents were okay with you leaving school?”
“I didn’t really ask them.”
The more she revealed, the more he wanted to know. But she had accused him of interrogating her, and he had to respect her boundaries...not only because she was a guest in the hotel, but because it was the right thing to do.
“Would you like another drink?” he asked.
“A peach daiquiri would be nice.” Zoe cocked her head. “Why are you entertaining me?”
He summoned a waiter and gave their order. When the young man disappeared, Liam met her gaze squarely. “Has it occurred to you that you may be entertaining me?”
For the first time since they met in the lobby, he saw her flustered. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink and she looked away for a moment. He used the opportunity to study her profile. The only thing marring a classically beautiful face was the thrust of a stubborn chin and the smallest of crooks in her nose.
His scrutiny did not go unnoticed. Her hands fiddled with a fork as she faced him again. “Do I have food on my face?” she asked, the words acerbic.
“Sorry. I was just wondering if you had ever broken your nose.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Not at all. But you have the features of a Greek goddess except for that tiny crooked place in your nose and the way you lead with your chin.”
“I’m not sure that counts as a compliment.”
“Merely trying to avoid social conventions.”
Finally, he coaxed a smile from her. “Touché.”
Their drinks arrived. Zoe sipped hers delicately, like a small child savoring an unaccustomed treat. He wanted to ask her flat out if she could afford a six-week stay at Silver Beeches, but of course, he couldn’t. Attending Vassar indicated a certain level of financial ease. Then again, she could have gone on a scholarship. The fact that he was so obsessed with her background gave him pause. Was his interest related to the hotel, or something more?
A man could want a woman without knowing anything at all about her other than the way she walked and the scent of her perfume. Simple lust he understood. But this fixation on ferreting out Zoe’s secrets alarmed him. Whether she was an eccentric heiress or a working girl with only months to live or European royalty hiding out from the press, her story was hers to tell.
Perhaps if he were patient, Zoe would open up to him. Two decades ago he had allowed infatuation to blind him to the truth about a woman. It had been a salutary lesson, and one he wouldn’t repeat. The fact that he was already so intrigued by Zoe meant he had to be very careful not to let his hormones overrule his common sense.
* * *
Zoe was having the most marvelous time. Dressed up for a change. Chatting with a suave, worldly, handsome man. Feeling like a desirable woman. All in all, quite an exceptional evening.
Liam was fascinating. On the outside, the epitome of a sophisticated gentleman. But in his conversation and in his eyes, she caught glimpses of another man, another less polished persona.
What did it say about her that she wanted to see more of the second?
She savored the last bit of her drink, feeling the pleasant buzz in her limbs as the alcohol worked its way through her bloodstream. She was not much of a drinker and had little tolerance for strong spirits. The daiquiri had just enough of a punch to leave her relaxed and happy.
Liam seemed in no hurry to end their encounter, so she lingered as well, even as the bar emptied slowly. It was fun to pick out the honeymooners, the anniversary couples. A few duos exhibited the marks of enjoying a clandestine affair.
Watching people was a hobby of Zoe’s. She knew how to fade into the background, especially with her guitar around her neck.
Over the years, her people skills had carried her far and had kept her out of harm’s way. A single woman on the road had to be smart and well prepared. Despite her current slenderness, she knew how to fell an assailant and how to disable an aggressor.
Tonight, however, such skills would not be needed. Liam was not the kind of man who had to force himself on a woman. The intensity of his eyes made her shiver. They were technically the same color as hers. But in Liam’s case, the blue was the searing shade found in the heart of a flame.
He had unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. At the end of a long day, his jaw was shadowed. She imagined for a moment what he would look like in bed, ready for sleep after making love to a woman.
Her thighs tightened and her belly quivered. Perhaps Bessie had been wrong. Perhaps Silver Glen, North Carolina, presented danger rather than a safe haven. Zoe rarely had difficulty guarding her heart. Her transient lifestyle kept relationships at bay.
But then again, she had never met a man like Liam who appealed to her so immediately and so viscerally. Contentment ruled her days for the most part, even if loneliness had to be acknowledged and embraced.
For Liam Kavanagh she was willing to change all that. She knew it in an instant. Perhaps she was even willing to blindly follow the demands of her body and give in to the sweet rush of arousal. Throwing herself into an impulsive affair was completely out of character. But her illness during the late winter had shaken her.
Lying in a strange hospital in Albuquerque, New Mexico, near death at one point, she had hit rock bottom. No one knew where she was. There were no friends nearby to bring flowers and pop in for a visit. If she had slipped away into the great beyond, her passing would have sparked little more interest than a search for next of kin.
Shame and distress made her tremble. She had been on the run for so long that she no longer knew how to relax and enjoy life. She told herself that her needs were few. That traveling light was a virtue. But at the end of the day, what did she have to show for her twenty-seven years on this earth?
Contemplating change was difficult. And terrifying.
Liam reached across the table and took one of her hands in his. “Are you okay, Zoe? You’ve gone pale as milk. And you’re shaking. It’s late. If you’ve been ill, perhaps you need to be in bed.”
Was it her imagination, or did his fingers tighten on hers involuntarily when he said the word bed?
She managed a smile. “I’m fine. Maybe a ghost walked over my grave.”
“Are you superstitious?”
“No more than the next person, I suppose. But the Irish are, I’m told. Though you don’t strike me as the type of man who leans toward whimsy or flights of fancy.”
He released her. The color of his eyes darkened to midnight. His jaw set. “I’ve seen firsthand the pain caused by people who can’t hold on to reality. So, no. I’m not superstitious.”
The turn in the conversation had upset him. But she couldn’t let it drop. “And I’ve seen the damage done by soulless individuals who can’t see the magic in everyday life. So maybe the truth lies somewhere in between.”
They stared at each other. A pleasant evening of flirtation had segued into something far more serious.
He shook his head, his expression rueful. “I think we’ve strayed into territory best left unexplored for the moment. I was supposed to be telling you about things to see and do while you’re here.”
“True.” She glanced at his watch. “But it’s late. We can finish this tomorrow. I need to get some sleep.”
He stood when she did. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“It’s not necessary.”
His gaze was teasing. “Merely one of our amenities.”
They exited the bar and headed for the duo of elevators in the lobby. Someone had lowered the lights. A sleepy desk clerk sketched a halfhearted wave as they passed by. The intimacy of the hour shrouded everything in a hushed silence.
In the elevator, Zoe leaned against one mirrored wall, Liam the other. His gaze was trained on the carpet at his feet, as though he were lost in thought. The ride was short. A quiet ding, and suddenly they were at Zoe’s floor.
“Good night,” she said, thinking he would remain in the elevator.
Instead, he accompanied her down the hallway. “Perhaps I should check for monsters under your bed,” he whispered, obviously not wanting to disturb his other guests.
She shot him a look, wondering if he expected to come in. “I’m sure a hotel like the Silver Beeches Lodge has a ghostbuster on retainer. But thanks for the offer.”
At her door, she reached in her small bag and withdrew her key card. “I enjoyed our visit,” she said primly. “Thanks for your time.”
They were not touching. Liam stood a good three feet away. But the look in his eyes scorched her. Beneath the thin fabric of her dress, her nipples beaded.
Liam noticed, and took a step backward. “It was my pleasure,” he said. The words were prosaic, but the intonation was not.
Desire shimmered between them, invisible but real. She didn’t really imagine that her vehicle talked to her. That was a game she played. But if she believed in fate, and perhaps she did, then this moment in time was preordained. Something had brought her to a small, private getaway in the mountains where the man of her dreams awaited her.
It was entirely possible she was being naive. Perhaps Liam entertained a number of female guests who walked into his hotel.
Even so, she chose to keep the fiction alive.
She looked at him wistfully, wishing she had the guts to kiss him. “Good night, Liam.”
He nodded tersely, his beautiful eyes turbulent. “Good night, Zoe.”
Three
Liam didn’t sleep worth a damn. His sex was stiff and aching off and on for most of the night. The few hours he did manage to close his eyes and doze, he dreamed of Zoe. When the alarm went off at seven, he groaned and slapped the snooze button. Normally a morning person, today he knew it was going to take more than a cup of coffee—or two or four—to keep him on track.
The dreams he’d experienced had been explicit and erotic. In his extremely vivid nocturnal imagination, Zoe was continually naked and smiling. And happy to see him. He could actually feel the warmth of her body draped across his. A pleasant notion that played well in his subconscious, but not so much in the harsh light of day.
The alarm shrilled a second time, and he gave in.
An hour later, showered, dressed and mostly awake, he headed down to the lobby. It was a weekday, so their check-ins would be light. Marjorie stopped him with a question about a multiroom booking. Pierre wanted to show him a website that might be of interest to their guests. By the time Liam finally made it to his office, it was almost ten.
He sat down at his desk and opened his laptop, gazing absently out his window that overlooked the side of the property. The groundskeeper had outdone himself this past year. Dogwoods bloomed in profusion amidst carefully sculpted banks of forsythia. Narrow paths dotted with ornamental benches invited guests to stop and enjoy the rainbow of irises, tulips and English wildflowers planted in traditional beds.
The tranquil view soothed Liam as a rule. But today it made things worse. Because he could imagine himself and Zoe walking in the moonlight out there. A glance at the calendar on the wall confirmed the fact that the lunar phase was full tonight.
Sucking in a disgusted breath, he forced himself to focus on work. He was a grown man too old to be ruled by his male anatomy. Last night was exhilarating and stimulating in more ways than one. But he had to slow down. He was the head of the Kavanagh family. He had responsibilities. Big ones. He didn’t have the luxury of following every sexual whim.
The landline phone rang, startling him. He picked it up automatically. “Silver Beeches Lodge. Liam Kavanagh speaking.”
The voice on the other end was familiar. “Hey, buddy. Do you have a minute to come down to the shop?”
“What’s up, Gary?” He and the owner of the Silver Chassis had gone to public school together for years and remained friends to this day, despite the differences in their financial situations. Maeve had taught her children from the cradle that they were no better than anyone else. Money is not the measure of a man. Liam had heard those words from her a hundred times.
Silver Glen’s most talented mechanic lowered his voice. “I don’t want to say anything over the phone. But I think you’ll want to see this.”
* * *
Liam snagged a bagel and a banana from the hotel kitchen and ate them on the way down the mountain. The scenic drive was so familiar, he could have done it in his sleep, but the view affected him every time. This town would not exist without Kavanagh ancestors. Every part of the community had Kavanagh blood running through its veins.
For Liam it was both a blessing and a curse. He was proud to be a part of something so special, but he was ruefully aware that his heritage chained him here as certainly as any prison bars.
He’d taken up the yoke after his father’s disappearance. He had stood beside his grieving mother and sworn to keep their family together and afloat. But in the process, he’d given up any autonomy over his future. The road ahead was never going to change. He had trained himself to ignore the bleak disappointment that knowledge occasionally evoked.
He parked on the street behind Gary’s shop and went in search of the owner. Gary was in the pit, examining the undercarriage of a vintage VW bus. When he noticed Liam’s presence, he called out. “Hold on.” Moments later, he climbed up and joined Liam. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
Liam frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Gary was balding prematurely and had a bit of a beer gut, but he knew cars better than anyone Liam had ever met. “It was towed here this morning by an automobile service. The owner contacted me and gave me carte blanche to replace the engine and anything else that needed attention.”
“So?”
“So,” Gary said with a grimace, “the owner has checked into your hotel.”
Liam shook his head in disbelief as the light dawned. “Zoe Chamberlain,” he said.
“How did you know?”
“A lucky guess. When she walked through the front door I pegged her as the reincarnation of a 1960s love child. But despite her eccentricities, I don’t get your concern.”
Gary rubbed his chin, smearing grease below his lip. “Take a look.” He opened the back of the van. “Ms. Chamberlain has been sleeping in the back of her vehicle. On a regular basis. The mattress is well-worn, and she has a stash of personal toiletries in that small cabinet. Call me crazy, but how can a woman like that afford the Silver Beeches? She gave me a platinum card number with no limit. I’m a little spooked though. I can’t afford to get ripped off on a job this big.”
“Meaning you think the card might be stolen?”
“Well, what’s your explanation?”
“I don’t have one.” Liam’s stomach curled with frustration. Had he been taken in by a scam artist?
“How long is she staying?”
“She made a reservation for six weeks.”
“Hell, man. You know your rates better than I do. Something doesn’t add up.”
Liam took one last look inside the van and closed the door. “Go ahead and start ordering parts. I’ll cover it all if there’s a problem. In the meantime, tell her it’s going to be a week or more. I’ll offer her a hotel vehicle to drive. That will buy us some time to make sure the credit card is legit.” His own motives were muddled, but if he did Zoe a favor, perhaps she would be inclined to drop her guard around him and he could figure out what the hell was going on.
Gary slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Liam. Sorry for interrupting your day, but I thought you’d want to know.”
Liam grimaced. “I appreciate the heads-up. I’ll keep you posted.”
* * *
Zoe slept late and enjoyed a wonderfully lazy morning in bed. Breakfast was delivered via room service—a selection of handmade miniature pastries, generous servings of bacon and eggs, and a fancy silver pot full of coffee. By the time she finished, her tummy was uncomfortably full, but she didn’t regret a bite of the overindulgence.
Setting the tray outside her door, she made sure the do-not-disturb sign was in place on the doorknob and then climbed back into bed. Because her room was on the top floor, she had the luxury of leaving the drapes open without worrying about anyone looking in on her.
The sunshine boosted her spirits. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she curled into the spot that was still warm and let her mind wander.
She felt safe in this room in a way she hadn’t in a long time.
The only shadow over her current happiness was Bessie. The garage owner had called moments before and said the repairs would take a number of days because of the difficulty of getting parts. Which meant Zoe was stranded. The nearest car rental place was at the airport in Asheville. She didn’t really want to go back there.
Maybe she could hitch a ride with someone going into town. She liked exploring new places, and Silver Glen, at least from a distance, appeared delightfully appealing.
The severity of her illness had scared her. It was difficult to maintain a healthy lifestyle on the road. Too much fast food and not enough rest and exercise. During the weeks she had booked at the Silver Beeches, she needed to take advantage of the hotel chef’s expertise and eat well.
By one in the afternoon, she had reached her limit for taking it easy. After showering and changing into black slacks and a silky top with a geometric pattern of taupe and cinnamon, she went in search of the dining room. White linen tablecloths and crystal chandeliers set a standard for elegance, though she saw a wide variety of clothing choices in the diners. Everything from jeans to suits and ties.
Asking the hostess for a table for one did not bother Zoe. She had lived much of her adult life on her own. Choosing what to order was far more difficult. The menu was amazing. At long last, she settled on chicken marsala with spinach salad and sautéed squash. The meal included hot yeast rolls that were to die for.
As she ate, she studied her companions surreptitiously. Everyone in the room seemed at ease with the upscale setting. No one pretending to be something they were not. But everyone had secrets of one sort or another, no matter their station in life.
She was drinking coffee with her sorbet when Liam strode into the room. He worked the crowd effortlessly, stopping to speak to one table and then another. His confidence and charm drew smiles from patrons who were clearly pleased to receive his attention. Today he wore a navy sport coat over khaki trousers with another crisp white shirt. His tie was a tasteful paisley pattern of blues and greens.
Despite his conservative clothing, his physique was impressive. Broad shoulders, narrow waist and hips, and long legs. If she had to guess, she’d say he was about six-two to her five foot nine.
Zoe smiled at him wryly when he finally made it to where she sat, her pulse skittering in a disconcerting fashion. “You should have been a politician. I can see you kissing babies and shaking hands all over the state.”
Without asking, he pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. His quick grin took years off his age. “I hate lying and sucking up to fat cats. So I don’t think so. I’m happy right where I am.”
“Are you really?”
The grin disappeared, replaced by what she was coming to recognize as his familiar brooding intensity. “What does that mean?”
She shrugged. “Don’t you ever have the urge to drive out of town and not look back? Hit the road for places unknown?”
“Is that how you live your life?”
The sharp retort with its hint of disapproval put her back up. “There’s a lot to be said for travel. It broadens the mind.”
“I’ve noticed you’re good at dodging questions you don’t like. Maybe you should have been a politician.”
She stared at him, nonplussed. Not many people had the sharp wit and the perspicacity to silence her. “Are we having our first fight?”
He shook his head, clearly amused by her question. “I’m in too good a mood today for that. The sun is shining. The stock market is up. The hotel is full. I’ve got no complaints.” He lifted a hand, and the server brought him a cup of black coffee. “I had a phone call from the garage in town,” Liam said. “Gary tells me that your vehicle is in the shop. So I’ve brought you these.” He tossed a set of keys on the table.
Eyeing him suspiciously, Zoe ignored the offering. “I’ve heard of full-service hotels, but this is ridiculous.”
Liam leaned back in his chair. “Don’t get your hopes up. It isn’t a flashy sports car. Just an old Sentra that we keep for the occasional emergency.”
“I can’t imagine you’re this attentive to every guest.”
“You’d be surprised. And besides, I have a hidden agenda with you.”
Her heartbeat quickened. “How so?”
“My mother accused me of trying to run you off. I need to prove to her that I’m a gentleman. And who knows? You might coax me into playing hooky from work a time or two while you’re here.”
“You seem like the least likely person I’ve ever known to be led astray.”
“Then you’d be wrong. It’s springtime in the mountains. Even a workaholic like me can see the attraction.”
When he smiled, ever so gently, Zoe felt something inside her loosen and flower. Despite her tendency to hold people at a distance, something about Liam Kavanagh slipped past her defenses. He wasn’t a warm, fuzzy person. In fact, he was rather intimidating. But nevertheless, she felt a strong pull of attraction.
Despite that unsettling truth, she wasn’t yet ready to jump headlong into a flirtation that might make her time at the Silver Beeches uncomfortable. She picked up the keys and tucked them in her purse. “Thank you for the vehicle. I’ll be careful with it.”
He watched her like a cat watches a mouse. “I’m sure you will.” After a momentary silence, he continued. “So do you have any specific plans for your stay with us, or are you more the type to be spontaneous?”
“You said that last word as if it put a bad taste in your mouth. Do you have a problem with spontaneity?”
“Not really. Though it isn’t an attribute that fits my lifestyle very well.”
“Because Liam is all work and no play?”
His eyes narrowed. “You must think me dreadfully dull.”
“Not at all. I admire your work ethic.”
“Hogwash,” he said forcefully, startling her. “You probably don’t even own a day planner, do you?” She had the odd notion that he was attracted to her and critical of her at the same time.
She’d been judged and found wanting too many times in her life to let Liam do the same. For the moment, her indignation overrode her appreciation of his masculine appeal. “I believe it’s safe to say that our personalities clash, Mr. Kavanagh. Perhaps it might be best if we avoid one another while I’m here. Good day.”
* * *
With clenched teeth, Liam watched his beautiful guest walk away. The sway of her hips was no less mesmerizing in pants than it had been in a flowing skirt. He had come to the dining room earlier with every intention of getting to know Zoe a little better. Instead, he had lit the fuse of her temper in record time.
Was it the spark of attraction between them that made things so touchy? Or was Zoe right? Were the two of them oil and water?
Grumbling beneath his breath, he finished his coffee and stood up, ruefully aware that some of the luncheon guests had watched his encounter with interest. Schooling his face to a calm expression, he made his way across the room and exited to the hallway.
Pierre caught up with him en route to the lobby. The longtime employee’s face was creased with worry. “There was a man here, Mr. Kavanagh. Asking about Ms. Chamberlain. I got a bad feeling about the guy. Looked like he might be law enforcement or a P.I.”
Liam’s senses went on high alert. “But he didn’t identify himself as such?”
“No, sir. Didn’t say much of anything at all except that he was inquiring as to Ms. Chamberlain’s whereabouts. At least I think that’s what he wanted. He called her Zoe Henshaw, though.”
“What did you tell him?”
The concierge’s expression was awash with guilt. “I told him we had no guest by that name. He left, but I wondered if I should let Mrs. Kavanagh know.”
“I’ll handle it,” Liam said. “You did the right thing. Our guests expect and deserve their privacy. Keep an eye out for him and let me know if he shows up again.”
Liam returned to his office, his gut clenched with worry. Who was Zoe Chamberlain? And why did he feel the need to protect her? Hadn’t he learned his lesson long ago? Women were resilient creatures. His need to play Galahad was misplaced at best.
His jaw set, he picked up the phone and dialed the credit card company. After twenty minutes on hold listening to a watered-down version of Frank Sinatra tunes, he was finally connected to a customer service representative who was polite but not at all forthcoming. The woman cited privacy laws, but assured him that the card was not stolen and that the line of credit was unlimited.
Liam hung up and drummed the fingers of one hand on the blotter, no less agitated than he had been before. There was no reason to suppose that Zoe was anything other than an extremely wealthy woman who wanted to spend some time in the mountains.
But somehow, that explanation didn’t satisfy him.
Forcing himself to slog through a backlog of work, he made it an hour and a half before he conceded defeat and admitted that the Zoe situation was occupying his attention to the exclusion of all else. Though he would like to think he could let things play out in due time, he knew himself well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to be able to let it drop. He had to know more about Zoe. Both for personal and professional reasons. Where was she from? Did she have a job of any kind? Who was the man looking for her? Why did she drive an ancient van, and why was there evidence that at least some of the time, she wasn’t sleeping in four-star hotels?
Telling himself that he might be imagining trouble where none existed, he typed the name Zoe Chamberlain into Google’s search box, hit a key, and waited. To his consternation, the only match from this region of the country was an African-American woman in south Georgia who produced some kind of folk art out of old silverware.
Trying Zoe Henshaw produced little else of note. The entries he found contained mostly generic information that could have pertained to any one of a number of people.
Of the Zoe Chamberlain with the golden hair, blue eyes and sunny disposition, there was no mention. Which meant that his oh-so-beautiful hotel guest was probably lying to him. Anger, disappointment, and an amorphous anxiety threatened to choke him.
The Silver Beeches was his turf. Everything that happened beneath this roof was under his domain. Even so, did he have the right to dig into the puzzle that was Zoe? Was he out of line in wanting to find answers?
Six weeks was a long time to wonder.
Four
Zoe loved the little Sentra. It was silver, of course. Although it sported a few dings and bruises, along with 150,000 miles on the odometer, the car had character, much like Bessie. It was also very easy to drive. Its age and appearance erased any concerns she might have had about borrowing someone else’s vehicle.
Armed with a map of the town, courtesy of Pierre, she thanked the parking valet who brought the car to the door of the hotel for her. Seating herself behind the steering wheel, she checked the location of all the various knobs and switches and adjusted the mirrors.
If Pierre had thought it odd she was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses and had her hair tucked back in a ponytail, he gave no sign. The disguise was necessary to calm her nerves.
Driving down the steep, winding highway was an adventure. Like the town itself, the mountain road conjured up images of the Swiss Alps. But the guardrail was sturdy, and the two lanes were plenty wide, so she had no real worries.
The hamlet of Silver Glen was laid out in a well-planned grid tucked between the two steep mountains that constrained its growth. Long and narrow, the peaceful community centered itself along a two-mile stretch of meandering road that wound in a lazy S from one town limit to the other. Cute shops and restaurants vied for space between quaint B and Bs and private homes.
The side streets were equally interesting. Zoe found a dry cleaner’s whose sign proclaimed it to be the Silver Press, a movie theater called the Silver Screen, and finally, the place she had circled on her map...Silver Bells, a music shop that sold everything from handmade dulcimers to electronic keyboards.
She spent a happy hour prowling the sheet-music section and debating the merits of a new strap for her guitar. In the end, her only purchase was three sets of replacement strings.
Music softened the rough edges of her life. It was usually easy to strike up a relationship with someone in a new town and offer to play a couple of gigs for free. After that, she was often booked here and there for casual events. She loved being surrounded by the trappings of music. Today she felt a sense of kinship with the little business operated by a man who looked suspiciously like Willie Nelson’s twin.
After leaving Silver Bells, she roamed on foot. A shallow river bisected the center of town at right angles to the road. Some long-ago citizens had constructed a covered bridge that was accessible to both cars and foot traffic. Zoe took out her phone and snapped a picture of the postcard scene.
There would be plenty here to keep her busy. Outdoor gear was available in stores everywhere, and the thought of hiking intrigued her. Perhaps she would invest in a good pair of boots.
When the dinner hour approached, she debated returning to the hotel, but she was leery of running into Liam again. She sensed he didn’t trust her, and his suspicions stung. Though he was correct to think she was hiding something, it was nothing that would bring harm to his precious hotel. A woman had a right to her secrets, didn’t she?
Feeling a bit down in the dumps, she spotted a business that promised to have a decent hamburger on the menu. Making up her mind in an instant, she opened the door and went inside. The Silver Dollar Saloon was dark but smoke-free, a fact that surprised, but pleased her.
Since it was far too early for the locals to really heat up the joint, she was able to grab the booth of her choice. Sitting so that she could look through the front window and study the activity on the street, she perused the limited menu. When the young waitress stopped by, Zoe ordered an Angus burger and sweet-potato fries with a root-beer float.
She took her time soaking in the ambience of the bar. The walls were decorated with black-and-white movie stills, some of them signed. North Carolina was a popular location shoot for producers, and apparently, a number of well-known faces had stopped in at the Silver Dollar to have a cold one at the end of a long day.
The booths that lined both sides of the room looked old. High-backed and made of dark wood, they bore the marks of time. The tables scattered down the center were constructed of the same wood. She almost expected an outlaw or two to come sauntering in.
As she was finishing up her meal, a man appeared from the back, startling her when he stopped at her elbow.
“Welcome to the Silver Dollar,” he said. “Haven’t seen you in town, so you must be a new visitor.”
She looked up, way up, and was surprised to see familiar blue eyes. But the black hair was longer and shaggier. “I’m guessing you might be a Kavanagh,” she said.
The man grinned. “Dylan. At your service. I own and operate this place, or perhaps it owns me, if you want to know the truth.”
“I’m Zoe Chamberlain.”
“So how are you enjoying Silver Glen?”
“I haven’t been here long, but your brother is treating me well up at the Lodge.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Lucky you. Can’t go wrong there.” The waitress said something to him, and he started to walk away. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Zoe.”
“Wait.” The word came out impulsively and with some urgency.
Dylan paused. “You need another root beer?”
“No. I was wondering if you could use a musician one evening. I sing and play guitar. I enjoy doing it, and you wouldn’t have to pay me. What do you think?”
His frown didn’t say much for her chances. “Aren’t you on vacation?”
“Not exactly. I’ve been ill and I needed a place to rest and recoup. Finding the Silver Beeches Lodge was serendipitous.” No need to tell him about Bessie. “I’m going to be here for over a month, and I’m not accustomed to doing nothing all day. It would mean a lot to me. And I’m good, I swear.”
Dylan’s grin flashed again. Zoe was surprised to realize that, unlike his brother’s, Dylan’s sexy smile didn’t cause her heart to stutter even a little. Apparently she had a thing for irritable, bossy guys in suits. Or at least one in particular.
The bar owner put his hands on his hips and stared at her. It suddenly occurred to Zoe that she wasn’t looking her best. Hair tucked back in a ponytail. Well-worn Red Sox cap. He probably thought she was either eccentric or lying about staying up at the Lodge.
Dylan Kavanagh sighed, for the first time sounding much like his brother. “Let me look at the schedule. I have a few bookings coming up. When I know something, I’ll call you at the hotel.”
She had to be satisfied with that. Even if her hands were already itchy to be playing music. Dylan’s bar was exactly the kind of place where she felt most comfortable. “I understand,” she said with a smile. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”
* * *
Liam was more than a little surprised when Dylan showed up for a late dinner at the hotel. Maeve and Liam were sitting at a table by the window when his brother appeared. Dylan, wearing a dark sport coat over a pale blue dress shirt open at the throat and neatly pressed jeans, turned female heads as he crossed the room.
Maeve put her hand over her heart. “Dear Lord. It must be a sign of the apocalypse. My second-born son voluntarily dressing for dinner and climbing the mountain without a parental guilt trip.”
Dylan bent and kissed his mother’s cheek before being seated. “I heard there was prime rib on the menu tonight. You know that’s my favorite.”
Liam snorted. “You never leave that bar unattended without a good reason. ’Fess up, little brother. Tell us what’s important enough to merit such a sacrifice.”
“Last time I checked, I had you beat in height by an inch and a half. I haven’t been your little brother since we both hit puberty, so don’t try putting me in my place.”
The sibling rivalry was good-natured and familiar. Liam didn’t see enough of his brothers, though he loved them all fiercely. Conor and Aidan, and Patrick, Gavin, and James all lived nearby, but the seven brothers led busy lives. For Liam, the hotel was a demanding mistress. Not that it had to be. He employed good people whom he trusted. But perhaps he was too much of a control freak to let them take over.
Maeve beamed at both of them. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m delighted. How did you know when we were eating?”
“I called Pierre and told him I wanted to surprise you.”
Liam nodded. “The man can keep a secret. I’ll give him that.”
The server came to take their order, and the next few minutes were taken up with food choices and wine selection. When the three of them were alone again, Liam sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Spill it, Dylan. What brings you up to the rarefied air of the Lodge?”
Dylan’s wavy hair was still damp from his shower. He pushed a hank of it off his forehead, pulled his chair closer to the table, and lowered his voice. “I ran into a guest of yours today.”
The back of Liam’s neck tingled. “Oh?”
“Zoe Chamberlain.”
Liam kept his expression neutral, but inside, every Neanderthal impulse he possessed urged him to tell his brother to back off. The lady was taken. That his knee-jerk reflex was ridiculous, he freely admitted. “Where did you see her?”
“She came into the Silver Dollar for an early supper. We chatted for a moment, because the place was mostly deserted.”
The salad course arrived, and Liam was forced to hold his tongue for long, frustrating moments while the waiter fussed about with fresh-ground pepper and grated Romano cheese. At last the man departed.
Liam picked up his fork and set it down again. “What did she have to say?” It galled him that his brother had seen as much or more of Zoe today than Liam had. He suspected that she was avoiding him. Without making it obvious, he had looked for her on and off all afternoon. There were a lot of places in the hotel where she could be hiding. The salon, the spa, the workout room, the library. Not to mention the grounds. But he had neither seen her nor heard from her since lunch. Clearly she had made use of the loaner car and decided to go into town.
Dylan chewed and swallowed a bite of his perfectly cooked prime rib, his expression beatific. “I’d forgotten how good this is,” he groaned, taking a swallow of his 1972 burgundy. “I love my place, but I’ll admit that a guy can get tired of burgers and chicken wings.”
Maeve tapped his hand lightly. “I know you pride yourself on being a regular guy, but I happen to know that your bank account could handle a few luxuries. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt you to make a standing date with your mother. It’s not as if you have any romance in your life at the moment.”
“Hey,” Dylan said, aggrieved. “That’s not fair. I can’t help if my girlfriend thought Hollywood was more exciting than a small town in the middle of nowhere.”
Liam frowned. Sometimes he thought that Dylan worked too hard at being one of the guys. Being a Kavanagh set a man apart in this town. Dylan could fight it all he wanted, but he was a rich man, and people knew it. “Your love life or lack thereof doesn’t interest me, no offense. Tell me about your conversation with Zoe.”
Dylan kept on eating, apparently intent on clearing his plate in time for dessert. In between bites, he paused to give his brother an assessing glance. “Why so interested? And since when did you get chummy enough with her to use first names?”
Maeve looked from one to the other of her offspring, shaking her head. “I swear you two needle each other every chance you get. I thought you’d grow out of it, but I suppose that was wishful thinking.”
Dylan lifted an eyebrow, his smile innocent. “I don’t know what you mean, Mom. But you might want to keep an eye on your eldest son. If he starts hitting on sexy hotel guests, we might have problems with jealous husbands.”
“Zoe’s not married.” Liam ground his teeth together, incredulous that his brother’s taunts were getting to him. It was an old game they played. But Liam was on a short fuse tonight. “Tell me what you know about her. Please.”
Dylan wiped his mouth with his napkin and shrugged. “Not much. But she caught me off guard this afternoon.”
“How so?”
“She asked if I would let her play and sing down at the bar.”
The table fell silent. Even Maeve seemed perplexed. “Why?”
Dylan shrugged. “Who knows? She claimed it was because she was going to be here for a while and she wasn’t used to twiddling her thumbs.”
“Did she talk about payment?”
“Offered to play for free.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I made an excuse. Said I had to look at the calendar. You know I wouldn’t do anything like that without running it by you. Don’t want to create a sticky situation. It occurred to me that she might be awful. And that could be damned awkward if she’s dropped several grand to stay at the Lodge.”
Maeve pursed her lips. “I don’t see what it could hurt. She’s an unusual woman. Call it my Irish ancestral intuition, but I think she’s had a hard life.”
Liam and Dylan stared at her in sync. Dylan pointed out the obvious. “She’s booked a multiweek stay here at the Lodge. It’s not like the woman has lived on the streets and played music so people would toss coins in a tin cup.”

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