Falling for Mr Dark & Dangerous. DONNA ALWARDЧитать онлайн книгу.
long distance go on your bill, unless of course you use a prepaid card.” Maggie dismissed the futility of trying to draw him out and gave him the basic rundown instead. “There’s no television in your room, but there is a den downstairs that you’re welcome to use.”
Maggie paused. Nate was waiting patiently for her to finish her spiel. It was very odd, with him being her only guest. Knowing he’d be the only guest for the next few weeks. It didn’t seem right, telling him mealtimes and rules.
She softened her expression. “Look, normally there’s a whole schedule thing with meals and everything, but you’re my only guest. I think we can be a little more flexible. I usually serve breakfast between eight and nine, so if that suits you, great. I can work around your plans. Dinner is served at six-thirty. For lunch, things are fluid. I can provide it or not, for a minimum charge on your overall bill. I’m happy to tell you about local areas of interest, and you have dial-up Internet access in your room.”
Nate tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m your only guest?”
“That’s right. It’s not my busiest time right now.”
“Then…” His eyes met hers sheepishly. “Look, I’m going to feel awkward eating alone. I don’t suppose…we could all eat together.”
Nate watched her closely and she felt color creep into her cheeks yet again. Silly Jennifer and her suggestive comments. The front side was as attractive as the back and Maggie couldn’t help but notice as they stood together in the quiet room. It wasn’t how things were usually done. Normally guests ate in the dining room and she ate at the nook or she and Jen at the kitchen table. Yet it would seem odd, serving him all alone in the dining room. It was antisocial, somehow.
She struggled to keep her voice low and even. “Basically your stay should be enjoyable. If you prefer to eat with us, that would be fine. And if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, let me know.”
“Everything here looks great, Ms. Taylor.”
“Then I’ll leave you to unpack. The bathroom is two doors down, and as my only guest it’s yours alone. Jennifer and I each have our own so you won’t have to share. I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if there’s anything you need. Otherwise, I’ll see you for dinner.”
She courteously shut the door, then leaned against it, closing her eyes. Nate Griffith wasn’t an ordinary guest, that much she knew already. She couldn’t shake the irrational feeling that he was hiding something. He hadn’t said or done anything to really make her think so, beyond being proprietary with his backpack. But something niggled at the back of her mind, something that made her un comfortable. Given his profession, she should be reassured. Who could be safer than someone in law enforcement? Why would he have any sort of ulterior motive?
His good looks were something she’d simply have to ignore. She’d have to get over her silly awkwardness in a hurry, since they were going to be essentially roommates for the next few weeks. Jen wouldn’t be here to run interference much longer, and Maggie would rely on her normal professional, warm persona. Piece of cake.
He was just a man, after all. A man on vacation from a stressful job. A man with an expense account that would make up for her lost plans by helping pay for her next trip.
Nate heaved out a sigh as the door shut with a firm click. Thank goodness she was gone.
He looked around the room. Very nice. Grant had assured him that the rural location didn’t mean substandard lodging, and so far he was right. What he’d seen of the house was clean, warm and welcoming. His room was no different.
The furniture was all of sturdy golden pine; the spread on the bed was thick and looked homemade with its country design in navy, burgundy, deep green and cream. An extra blanket in rich red lay over the foot of the bed. He ran his hand over the footboard. He would have preferred no footboard, so he could stretch out. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here and he had all the amenities he needed. To anyone in the area, he’d be a vacationing guest. To his superiors, he’d be consistently connected through the Internet and in liaison with local authorities. Creature comforts were secondary, but not unwelcome. Lord knew he’d stayed in a lot worse places while on assignment.
He unpacked his duffel, laying clothing neatly in the empty dresser drawers. His hand paused on a black sweater. When Grant had mentioned a bed and breakfast, Nate had instantly thought of some middle-aged couple. When he’d learned Maggie ran Mountain Haven alone, he’d pictured a woman in her mid-to-late forties who crocheted afghans for the furniture and exchanged recipes for chicken pot pie with her guests. Maggie Taylor didn’t fit his profile at all. Neither did Jen. He’d known she was here, but she seemed precocious and typically teenage. Certainly not the kind to get in trouble with the police.
He rested his hips on the curved footboard and frowned. It was hard to discern Maggie’s age. Initially he’d thought her maybe a year or two older than himself. But the appearance of her nearly grown daughter had changed that impression. He couldn’t tell for sure, but she had to be at least late thirties to have a daughter that age. Yet…her skin was still creamy and unlined, her eyes blue and full-lashed. Her hand had been much smaller than his, and soft.
But it was Maggie’s eyes that stuck in his mind. Eyes that smiled warmly with welcome but that held a hint of cool caution in their depths. Eyes that told him whatever her path had been, it probably hadn’t been an easy one.
He stood up abruptly and reached for the jeans in his duffel, going to hang them in the closet. He wasn’t here to make calf-eyes at the proprietress. That was the last thing he should be thinking about. He had a job to do. That was all. He had information to gather and who better to ask than someone in the know, someone who would take his questions for tourist curiosity? Inviting himself to dinner had put her on the spot, but with the desired results.
The afternoon light was already starting to wane when he dug out his laptop and set it up on the small desk to the left of the bed. Within seconds it was booted up, connected and ready to go. He logged in with his password, checked his e-mail… and waited for everything to download. Once he’d taken care of everything that needed his immediate attention, he quickly composed a few short notes, hitting the send button and waiting what seemed an age for them to leave the Outbox.
“I miss high speed Internet,” he muttered, tapping his fingers on the desk, waiting for the dial-up connection to send his messages. Waiting was not something he did well.
But perhaps learning to wait was a life lesson he needed. He’d been one to act first and think later too many times. Dealing with the aftermath of mistakes had caused him to be put on leave in the first place. He hadn’t even been two weeks into his leave when it had been cut short and he’d been given this assignment, and he was glad of it. He wasn’t keen on sitting around twiddling his thumbs.
Grant had asked for him personally. As a favor. And this wasn’t a job to be rushed. It was a time for watching and waiting.
He frowned at the monitor as the messages finally went through. He didn’t want to run up a long distance bill while he was here, but staying in communication was important. For now, his laptop was his connection to the outside world. It was a tiny community. The less conspicuous he was, the better.
He realized that his room had grown quite dark, and checked his watch. It was after six already, and Maggie had said dinner was at six-thirty. He didn’t want to get things off to a bad start on his first day, so he shut down the computer and put his backpack beneath the empty duffel in the closet.
* * *
Maggie heard his footsteps moving around upstairs for a long time, listening to the muffled thump as she mixed dough and browned ground beef for the soup.
Nate Griffith. U.S. Marshal. The name had conjured an image of a flat faced cop when Jennifer had told her about the reservation. Despite the flashes of coolness, he was anything but. He couldn’t be more than thirty, thirty-one. And it hadn’t taken but a moment to realize he was all legs and broad shoulders, and polite manners.
“Whatcha