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  “Oh my God,” she breathed.

  Much stronger phrases ran through his head.

  She looked around. “Who did this? Where’d they go?”

  “That way, I imagine.” He nodded behind them where twenty feet away aspen and ponderosa pines crowded together in a forest blacker than the night at the edge of his fifty acres.

  She took in the cluster of vehicles that huddled near the back entrance of the Wire. “This truck belongs to one of your employees, doesn’t it?”

  “You might say that.” The words grated like gravel in his throat. “It’s mine.”

  “Yours!” Her gaze whipped toward him. When he didn’t say anything, she studied the vehicles again. The red Chevy on the end, the gray Honda that had nosed onto the grass on the other side of his truck. He saw the slight stiffening in her back when she finally realized what he’d known right away. “It wasn’t random,” she said, her words slow and careful. “The cars on either side would have been easier to reach. Easier targets.”

  “They wanted to send a message.”

  “They who? What message?”

  He steeled himself to meet her puzzled look, disliking the idea that it might all be an act. “Don’t you think it’s obvious?”

  Her expression gradually closed. One hand went to her hip. “You think someone from the Alpine Sky did this?”

  “Who else?” It was more a grim statement than a question.

  “You’re crazy.”

  He barked out a bitter laugh. “I’d be crazy not to believe it.”

  “It serves no purpose. How would a broken window and headlight convince you to sell when three million dollars didn’t?”

  “Intimidation. It means worse could happen if they don’t get what they want.”

  She shook her head, not accepting his answer, frowning at the dark parking lot as if a clue might be out there. A few seconds later her eyes sparked with triumph. “How would anyone from the Alpine Sky know that you hadn’t changed your mind? There’s no point to this if you’d already agreed to sell, and they couldn’t know what you’d said to me in there.”

  “Good point,” he allowed. “No one could know I was able to resist your tantalizing offer of a free polo shirt.”

  “You’re such a jerk,” she muttered.

  “Unless you already told them.”

  She crossed her arms. “Which I didn’t.”

  He tried to read her stubborn glare, wishing he believed her denial, but unwilling to be that naive. He reminded himself that he wasn’t dealing with the pretty girl who worked up the road, he was dealing with the representative of a large resort, a business used to getting what it wanted in this tourist-oriented town. And an employee eager to deliver.

  “You spoke to someone on the way out.”

  “Yeah, my obviously deranged sister. I was surprised to see her.”

  “And when I came out here, you were talking on the phone.”

  “So?” Her eyes went wide with shock. “You think I was setting up some kind of hit?” She stared, openmouthed. Searching for a good explanation? Wondering if she’d been used? He couldn’t tell the difference. “I wasn’t talking about the Rusty Wire,” she finally said through clenched teeth.

  “So you say.” Her eyes were hot, and he was sure she was trying to incinerate him where he stood. “It doesn’t matter. Tell them it won’t work.” He pushed his face close to hers, aware that even though she tensed, she didn’t back down an inch. “I’ll never sell.”

  • • •

  All she could do was fume as Jase marched back inside, leaving her in front of his battered truck. He thought she’d caused this. Conspired to vandalize his truck. The idea was even more offensive than his rude attitude, especially when there was probably a long list of people tempted to bash in his headlights, and more.

  The man was a prick. A bastard. She called him every name she could think of as she stomped to her car and headed up the mountain to the Alpine Sky. He was subhuman scum, and talking to him had ruined her perfectly good evening.

  It was ludicrous to think the resort would operate like a common thug, resorting to intimidation and violence to get its way. The business world was much more subtle. Still, a small corner of Zoe’s mind whispered that what Jase had accused her of wasn’t impossible. She had been on the phone with someone from the Alpine Sky—Geoff, at the front desk, who’d called about a reservation mix-up. When he apologized for interrupting, she’d told him it was okay, she wasn’t making any progress here anyway. He could have passed that information on to anyone. Could someone have been at the Rusty Wire, ready to act on that information? A quick phone call was all it would take.

  It was so unlikely she snorted aloud. She was letting Jase’s paranoia rub off on her. It seemed far more likely that some ex-girlfriend had been royally pissed off, probably over that little blond cutie, and took it out on his truck. He probably had plenty of exes, and she could easily imagine that they all hated his guts. He was just that kind of guy. Trying to blame it on the Alpine Sky was another example of his abrasive personality.

  She felt a little better by the time she parked at the main lodge, but not enough. She needed to be sure.

  Using the main entrance, she stopped at the front desk. Geoff was there, talking with a guest. She waited for him to finish, then motioned him over. “Hi, Geoff. I know this sounds stupid, but when we talked on the phone was there anyone else around who might have overheard you and realized that the owner of the Rusty Wire had turned down our offer?”

  The young man looked confused, but gave it some thought. “I guess. Mike and Gretchen were going over someone’s charges, and David called right after that and mentioned your meeting, so I told him it didn’t go well.” He swallowed. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”

  “No, don’t worry about it.” Crap. She still didn’t buy it, but couldn’t prove it wasn’t true. She gave Geoff a reassuring smile. “I’ll be in my office for the next hour, but please don’t interrupt unless it’s an emergency.”

  “I wasn’t going to. How’d you find out so fast?”

  She was already walking away, and paused to turn back. “Find out what?”

  “About Mr. Flemming.”

  An ominous prickling danced across the back of her neck. “What about him?”

  “He’s waiting in your office.”

  “He’s . . . What? Matt Flemming?” The owner’s son, and president of Alpine Resorts, Inc. When Geoff nodded, she swallowed and struggled to look composed. “When did he get here?”

  “This morning, I guess. He bought lunch at the downstairs café and went out for supper with David. Now he’s waiting to see you. Um, didn’t you know?”

  “No.” She’d heard from her staff in tedious detail about less important matters, but nothing about Ruth Ann’s golden-boy son coming to visit her.

  She’d had all of two days to convince Jase Garrett to sell. If Matt Flemming was inserting himself in the process this soon, he must be pretty damn desperate to close the deal. And he probably already sensed failure in her efforts.

  She added sniveling snitch to David’s less-than-fine qualities.

  • • •

  Matt Flemming wasn’t just waiting in her office, he was rearranging it.

  He stood with his back to her, addressing two men from maintenance. “Put it up against the other desk,” he directed. The men swung a large desk into place, snuggling it against hers so that the two people sitting at them would face each other. She’d always been uncomfortable with that arrangement.

  “What’s going on?”

  Matt turned and broke into a smile that nearly made her take a step back. She blinked to make sure she’d only imagined a digitally inserted twinkle. His blue eyes crinkled with pleasure, and one closed in a quick wink, as if they shared a secret. “Hello! You must be Zoe.” He strode forward, shaking her hand while his gaze darted over her, taking in her hair, her face, and her clothes in one frankly admiring glance. The twinkle sparked aga
in. “I’m Matt Flemming. I’ll try not to be in your way, but it looks like we have to share an office for a while. It was either you or David, and since we’ve never met, I wanted an opportunity to get to know you. I hope you don’t mind sharing.” He cocked his head with a look of concern.

  “Uh, no.” As if she’d say anything else.

  And why would she want to? She did her own quick assessment, from his dark blond hair to the manicured hand that held hers in a firm grip. Strong jaw, easy smile, eyes that shone with intelligence as they held her own captive . . . the man oozed charisma, a nice complement to his polished executive look. She warmed, indulging in a quick fantasy of sharing more than her office.

  She cleared her throat and pulled her hand back. “May I ask why?”

  He laughed as if she’d said something clever. “Of course. I’m here to help with the land acquisition for the golf course, and I was told it might take some time. I understand there have been a few problems?”

  She flushed, inwardly cursing David Brand. “One problem, really. The owner doesn’t want to sell, and I’m afraid he’s quite stubborn on the point. Not that I’ve given up,” she rushed to assure him.

  “Excellent. I’m sure we can speed things up if we combine forces.”

  He gave her that disarming grin again, making her wonder if he was flirting or if it was just her. Maybe her sex switch had gotten flipped on, then stuck in a permanent state of lust. For someone who never let men throw her off her stride, she was batting an embarrassing zero for two this week.

  Zoe busied herself answering e-mails about the resort’s upcoming Beer and Bratwurst Festival while Matt directed the men about phone and fax connections. When they finally left, he tested out his new chair, leaning back and swiveling, making sure his keyboard and phone were within comfortable reach.

  He caught her watching. “Sorry, I imagine it’s distracting to have someone else in your office.”

  Very. But possibly not in a bad way. “Do you usually work the evening shift?” She glanced at her watch—11 p.m., not the usual hour to encounter upper management.

  “You mean, will I always be underfoot?” He chuckled at her blush. “I set my own hours, but no, I don’t usually work at night. Although maybe I should; apparently I’ve missed meeting one of our finest assets.”

  She gave the subtle come-on a polite smile and let relief soak in. Maybe the Flemmings still hadn’t crossed her off the promotion list for good.

  “Besides, I understand meeting with the owner of the Rusty Wire is best accomplished at night.” At her look of surprise, he added, “I called the saloon. The manager said if I wanted to see the owner, I’d have to come by during business hours.”

  “I think he’s drilled that into them.”

  “No problem. We can meet him on his own ground. What do you say you and I go to the Rusty Wire tomorrow night at nine? We can get something to eat, and I can meet Jason Garrett.”

  She couldn’t say anything. Did he think he’d be a more capable negotiator? Or did he just want to watch while she beat her head against the wall one more time? Either way she’d come off looking bad.

  It didn’t help that he’d made it sound sort of like a date. She didn’t think dating her boss was smart, even though the idea of going out with rich, clean-cut, handsome Matt Flemming had definite appeal.

  She forced a nervous smile. “Sure.”

  • • •

  Jase pulled into the parking lot of the Rusty Wire later than usual, noting that Russ’s and Billy’s cars were already there. So was another car he didn’t recognize. Parked across the lot from the others, a man and a woman stood outside an idling silver Jaguar, scanning the fifty acres of trees and meadowland behind the saloon.

  Jase’s first thought was that it was a stupid car for the mountains. It would be in storage most of the year if they lived in Barringer’s Pass, which made him think they weren’t local. They could be tourists admiring the scenery; he’d often seen elk come right up to the parking lot from that patch of wilderness. But someone with money taking an interest in his fifty acres was too much of a coincidence to ignore. He turned his borrowed SUV toward the Jag.

  The woman saw him coming. She said something to the man, then hurried around to the driver’s side while he got in the car. By the time Jase reached them, they were cruising toward the exit. The woman waved and smiled as if she knew him. He searched his memory for an elegant-looking blonde, age somewhere around forty, and came up blank. As they passed, he glanced at the Colorado license plate: RUTHANN. He frowned; he’d heard that name before.

  Jase parked and entered the saloon through the back door. No one was in the small kitchen yet, but Russ was sitting at the desk in the back office. Jase paused outside the open door.

  “Hey, Russ, does the name Ruth Ann ring a bell? Pretty, blond, fortyish maybe? Drives a Jag.”

  Russ thought a moment. “That’s the name of Buck Flemming’s widow, ain’t it?”

  “No idea.” It had probably been in the papers a few months ago when old Buck had keeled over from a heart attack. The local real estate tycoon had been in his eighties and fat as a toad, so no one was surprised when he’d dropped dead over lunch. Jase only remembered because the Alpine Sky had been one of Buck’s properties. In Jase’s mind he’d been a decent neighbor, catering to his high-class crowd and leaving the Rusty Wire alone. Relations had developed a considerable amount of friction since the wife had inherited the resort.

  “You sure Ruth Ann isn’t his daughter?”

  “Buck didn’t have a daughter, just a stepson. Slick kid with an ivy-league MBA. He runs the resort for Mommy.” Russ’s lip curled, indicating what he thought of the kid’s management style.

  The blonde was Mommy? She wouldn’t be the first woman to marry a fat old man forty years her senior, and he doubted it was Buck’s charm that had won her over. He didn’t care, either. If she was still lusting after his land, she needed to learn that not everyone gives Ruth Ann what she wants.

  The older man’s obvious distaste made Jase wonder if Russ was worried about the offer, and that Jase might change his mind. It was hard to know; Russ had never been big on sharing his feelings. Jase propped a shoulder against the doorjamb as he regarded his business manager. “You never said anything about the offer. You think I should sell?”

  Russ lifted a shoulder. “Not my call.”

  “You must have an opinion. Selling would put you out of a job.”

  “Worse things have happened. I’ll survive.”

  Worse things, like Jase causing Russ’s son’s death in a stupid downhill race that went out of control. Russ had survived the grief and agony of Adam’s death. The loss of an only child. And for Jennifer, the loss of a husband. They’d lost everything that day. Adam never had the chance to reap the benefits of fame that Jase had won—the lucrative endorsement deals would have meant a lot to his financially strapped family.

  Jase cleared the gravelly tightness in his throat. “Just so you know, you have a job here as long as you want it,” he said, leaving before Russ felt obligated to thank him. The last thing he wanted was Russ’s thanks. The man had always kept his feelings to himself, but since Adam’s death he’d been so withdrawn Jase wondered if he even had feelings anymore. Jennifer, too. Nine years gone, and she hardly ever laughed, not like she used to, with a bright laugh that carried a jolt of electricity. Losing Adam had left them all a little dead inside.

  As if on cue, Jennifer came in the back door, stopping in Russ’s office to drop off her purse before heading for the front of the saloon. She threw Jase a distracted hello and he followed her to the bar. He watched from the customer’s side, propping a foot on the brass rail as she pulled out her inventory log behind the bar. No other bartender was more meticulous about the daily accounting, noting how much was on hand and what needed to be replenished before opening. It had always seemed like tedious work to Jase, but Jennifer claimed to like it, preferring the orderly, logical work of stocking the bar and me
asuring out drinks to actually mingling with the customers. She wasn’t shy but, like her father-in-law, she’d put up a wall nine years ago and never stepped out from behind it.

  She’d set her logbook down and was scooping her brown hair into a ponytail when she noticed him watching her. “Hot today,” she said, snapping the rubber band in place and tugging the hair taut. “We might be wishing for air-conditioning by this afternoon.”

  It was a friendly and persistent disagreement between them. She knew he wouldn’t make any more changes than necessary, maintaining the historic integrity of the saloon. “The roof fans will have it cooled down by evening.” He gave his automatic reply, his mind elsewhere.

  It must have shown on his face. Jennifer paused. “Is there a problem?” As she said it, her brow creased with a new thought. “Did you hear from Marty? Is it my transmission? Am I going to need to replace it after all?”

  “No, no.” He waved her concern aside. “Nothing like that. Marty said he just had to replace a gasket. Don’t worry about it.” At least, that’s all she’d ever see on her copy of the bill. As long as she was too stubborn to accept his financial help, he had to do it behind her back. It was another long-standing argument between them, and it wasn’t worth reopening now.

  “Well, something’s wrong.”

  “I was just thinking.” He might as well ask, since she knew he had something on his mind. “You didn’t say much about the offer from the Alpine Sky.”

  She shrugged. “It’s not my decision.”

  “I’d like your opinion.”

  She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “I thought you’d made up your mind about keeping the Rusty Wire. You seemed pretty sure about your answer to that Larkin woman.”

  So she’d zeroed in on the name, too, finding Zoe’s old reputation a stronger identifying factor than her current job at the Alpine Sky. He hadn’t realized how much Zoe had to fight against that, or how long people’s memories were. He should have, especially for the bad stuff. No one ever forgot that.