We'll Never Tell (Secrets of Ravenswood) (5 page)

They stopped in front of
the dance studio. The forest green trim around the large picture window was
peeling, and the petunias in the planter boxes by the door needed deadheading.
Sam snapped a wilted bloom off the closest flower.

“You think my life is
about making up for not helping that woman?”

Juliette rested her hand
between Sam’s shoulder blades and rubbed. “You do what you do because you’re
generous and dedicated—and you’d be bored senseless at a desk job. But I don’t
think you’ve ever forgiven yourself for not saving her that night. Irrational
but true.”

The soothing motion
eased some of the tension she’d been carrying around. “Is that what Darby
thinks, too?”

“You bet, and I don’t
know anyone smarter than Darby.”

Staring up at the
cloudless sky, she drew in a breath. “Don’t you feel guilty about it, running
away and leaving her there?”

“Sometimes after a
really bad day I do, but I know we weren’t to blame.”

“I know it in my head.”
Sam pressed her hand to her chest. “But in my heart, I can’t let it go.”

“Then maybe finding that
body was a good thing. Maybe it’ll finally give you closure.” Juliette dug a
key from the pocket of her jeans and unlocked the studio door. “You’ll let me
know how the date with Ethan turns out?”

Sam rolled her eyes.
“Would you let me keep any juicy details to myself?”

“Not a chance.” She
stepped through the doorway and turned. “Have fun tomorrow night. Let yourself
relax for a change. You deserve it.”

Sam let out a breath.
“You’re right. I do deserve it.” Her lips curved in a slow smile. “Ethan had
better watch out. I might just surprise us both.”

Sam opened the door and
sucked in a breath. Ethan stood on the step. Jeans, neither ripped nor faded,
hugged narrow hips, and a button-down navy shirt stretched across his
shoulders, accenting those blue, blue eyes. She swallowed and took the single,
perfect daisy he held out to stick behind her ear.

“You clean up nice.”

His smile sent flutters
through her as his gaze left her face and drifted lower.

“Right back at you.”

Earlier that evening,
after staring into her closet for a good fifteen minutes, Sam had settled on a
short white skirt and canary yellow, sleeveless top. Pleased she’d taken the
time to dash on a bit of mascara and eyeliner, she held the door wide. “Let me
grab my purse and a sweater. It’s cooler than I expected tonight.”

“Fall is definitely in
the air.” He leaned against the jam, his gaze never leaving her as she scooped
up her belongings.

Smiling as she brushed
by him, anticipation surged. She had no intention of sleeping with Ethan again,
but a kiss or two was a different matter entirely. That she could do and not
wind up getting hurt when it was time to leave. She was almost certain of it.

“Aren’t you going to
lock your door?”

Pausing to pull the key
from her purse, she turned around. “I’m out of the habit. The hut I was living
in wasn’t exactly burglar proof.”

He rested his hand on
her back as they walked to his pickup. “Where were you this last time?”

“Indonesia.”

Opening the door, he
helped her in with a hand under her elbow. “Sounds hot.”

Her arm tingled where
his fingers lingered.
Speaking of hot…
“I got used to it.”

He jogged around the
front of the truck and slid onto the seat. “What are you in the mood for
tonight, Mexican or Italian?”

“Maybe we’d better avoid
margaritas.” She leaned back and crossed her legs.

His grin stole her
breath.

“I’m wounded. I thought
it was my charm that broke down your inhibitions all those years ago, not the
tequila.”

“To be on the safe side,
let’s not test your theory.”

“Italian it is.” He gave
her a slow smile. “This is why I wanted to see you again. A woman who can laugh
at herself is definitely worth getting to know better.”

They drove through the
lengthening shadows, an old Eagles tune playing on the radio. The cool evening
breeze shivered over her skin. “Do you mind if I close the window? After five
months in the tropics, I’m a wimp.”

“I don’t mind at all,
but you might. It smells like dog in here.”

She raised the window.
“I love dogs. I always wanted one when I was a kid, but my mom was allergic.
Not that it would have been much of an issue…” Lips pressed together, she stopped
speaking.

“Where are your parents?
I haven’t seen them around in ages.”

“Spain, I think, or
maybe New York. Wyatt mentioned he was going to see them this month.”

They drove past Alpine
Market with its bins of fresh produce out front, a real estate office with a
message sign flashing details of a recent listing, and Sierra Sports where
climbing gear was displayed in the front window before turning off the main
drag onto what was sarcastically termed restaurant row by the locals.

Sugar Pine Creek rushed
down a fern covered hillside in a sparkling cascade, providing a scenic
panorama for diners. Ethan parked in front of the red and white striped awning
over the main entrance to Rosa’s Place and hurried around to open her door. His
big, calloused palm holding her arm as they entered the restaurant sent a rush
of warmth through her. The hostess led them to a small table at the back of the
room with a view of the creek. Sam slid onto her chair and let out a breath
when he finally released her. Keeping her distance was going to be a challenge.

A dilemma which
intensified when he hit her with one of those killer smiles.

“Wine?”

“What’s pasta without
red wine?”

Ethan’s smile grew.
“Good point.”

Trying not to notice how
her insides quivered, she studied him as he spoke to the server. The clean line
of his profile—strong jaw, hard chin, and straight nose—appealed to her sense
of order. But when he turned and blinked those long-lashed blue eyes, her heart
stuttered.

She grasped for words.
“So, what’s new?”
Lame, Sam, seriously lame.

Shrugging, he leaned
back in his chair. “Not much. I spend most of my time working with my dogs,
with an occasional foray with the search and rescue team whenever Ken calls.”
He glanced toward the window and the panoramic view of the creek before his
gaze returned to settle on hers. “I did a lot of backcountry hiking this
summer.”

“Sounds—solitary.”

“I’ve never been what
you’d call social.”

“We have that in
common.” She glanced down at the menu. “I think I’ll have the spinach
raviolis.”

He shut his menu and
raised an eyebrow. “You’re plenty social. You and your friend, Juliette, are
practically joined at the hip when you’re home.”

“I do have a couple of
good friends who stick by me, even when I disappear for months at a time. I
meant I don’t go out much.”

The candle stuffed into
a wine bottle next to the bread basket flickered. Their server, a pert redhead
who smiled brightly at Ethan, stopped at the table, opened a bottle of merlot,
and poured a splash into his glass. He sipped and nodded. After taking their
orders, she glided away.

Sam pointed at the
retreating woman’s swaying hips. “Your solitary condition must be self-imposed.
I’m certain you wouldn’t have a bit of trouble rustling up company if you
wanted it.”

His gaze followed her
figure but didn’t linger. “I’m not averse to dating, but it isn’t easy to find
someone who will put up with me—and my dogs.”

She was willing to bet
there were plenty of women who would suffer a little dog hair to date Ethan.
“You leave the toilet seat up, dirty socks on the floor, dishes in the sink,
what?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” His
eyes glimmered with amusement. “I’m an old dog. I don’t want to learn new
tricks.”

She clicked her tongue
and nodded. “Thirty-two is ancient. You’re practically ready for a retirement
home.”

His lips quirked up at
the corners. Flipping back the checked cloth on the bread basket, he offered
her a roll. “You’re a smart ass. Anyone ever mention that before?”

Their fingers brushed
when she took the roll, and a tingle shot up her arm. “Maybe once or twice.”

He smoothed a pat of
butter across his roll and met her gaze. “Why aren’t you married, or engaged,
or at least involved with someone? You aren’t exactly hard on the eyes.”

The warm contentment
filling her faded. She sipped her wine. “Men tend to look elsewhere when the
date on your return home ticket is open ended.”

The sympathy in his eyes
tugged at her heart.

“Do you ever get tired
of it, spending so much time in strange places?”

“You call them strange.
To me, they’re exotic. It’s all semantics.” She stared down at the roll,
crumbling pieces onto her plate. “This last trip may have been a little over
the top. I got involved in a project reconstructing a school in this tiny
village…” She abandoned her food but didn’t look up. “I’ve been thinking about
cutting back on my travel schedule, maybe sticking a little closer to home.”

“Do you do it for the
adventure?”

She opened her mouth
then shut it when their salads were delivered. After the server bestowed
another smile on Ethan before leaving, Sam picked up her fork. “It started out
that way. The rush of finding a victim alive in the rubble of a building is
similar to the way you feel when you leap out of a plane.”

He choked on a crouton.
“I’m going to have to take your word for it.”

She smiled at the glassy
look in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve never tried sky diving?”

“I prefer to keep my
feet on solid ground.”

“You don’t know what
you’re missing.”

“Believe it or not, I’m
okay with that.”

Their conversation grew
more general as they ate their main course, discovering a shared interest in
mystery novels and action movies. He twirled pasta around his fork and smiled.
“You don’t like those chick flicks?”

She yawned and patted
her lips. “Boooring. Juliette adores them. Me, I like blood and guts and car
chases.”

He leaned back in the
chair, his smile broadening. “Will you marry me, Sam?”

Her burst of laughter
turned a few heads at other tables. She clamped her hand over her mouth, but a
few snickers escaped. “Geez, is a love of murder and mayhem all it takes to get
a guy’s attention?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

They finished their meal
and lingered over coffee. The rich aroma of garlic and marinara, the murmur of
conversations around them, and the dim lighting lulled Sam into a state of
contented lethargy. She tried to remember the last time she’d felt so
relaxed—and failed.

“Am I boring you into a
coma?” Ethan asked, his lips twitching.

“Not at all. I was just
thinking how nice this is, letting go of all my problems and simply enjoying an
evening. No pressure.”

“None at all.” He
swallowed the last of his coffee and set down the cup. “It’s still early. Do
you want to go for a drive, maybe up to Rainbow Lake?”

His gaze held hers, warm
and intent. A flash of anticipation shot through her. Rainbow Lake
sounded—safe. Certainly more so than inviting him into her little cabin.

“It would be a shame to
waste such a beautiful evening. The moon was full a couple of nights ago, so
it’ll be gorgeous.”

Ethan paid the check,
silencing her with a look when she protested. “My idea. My treat.”

“Next time, then.”

He held her chair then
rested his hand on her back as they left the restaurant. “I like that.”

She glanced over and
raised a brow. “That I don’t mind paying?”

“That you’re considering
a next time. Definite progress.”

Smiling, she slid onto
the truck seat but waited until he got in to answer. Turning sideways, she
touched his hand. “It isn’t that I didn’t want to see you again after
we…after…” Clearing her throat, she drew her finger along a ripped seam in the
upholstery. “The timing was screwed up.”

He captured her hand and
squeezed it. “And now?”

“I just got home. I’m
not going anywhere, not for a while.”

“Good.” He started the
engine and headed west out of town. When they passed a long driveway, he pointed.
“That’s my place.”

The outdoor porch lights
shone beside the door of the log structure set far back from the road. “Not a
lot of neighbors out here.”

“Definitely a plus when
you have a dozen or more dogs at any given time. A single squirrel scampering
across the yard can create quite a ruckus.”

The two lane road they
were on climbed through thick forests that thinned as they neared the lake.
Granite cliffs towered over an alpine gem that gleamed like a sapphire in the
moonlight. A campground edged the south side where humped domes of tents
resembled a hobbit town. They bumped over the rutted track along the west shore
to a deserted beach and parked.