The Missing Heir (Special Edition) Page 3

“Oh, yes!”

  Damn, how could she seem so open and straightforward? The likelihood of a greedy, scheming heart beating under that attractive exterior was almost a sure bet, no matter how cleverly she concealed it. He knew all about pretty women and how they could fool a man—his ex-wife had taught him well.

  Mari didn’t have Denise’s sophistication, nor did she wear designer originals. No doubt because she couldn’t afford them. It’d been obvious that the Crowley ranch house could use some updating. Money was at the bottom of every scheme. He hadn’t met her uncle, the man who’d contacted Joe in the first place, but it stood to reason that Mari had to be in on anything her uncle might be trying to promote.

  Russ wished he didn’t feel this odd bond between Mari and himself. It must be because of the horses. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough. They might be kindred spirits where horses were concerned, but just because she loved them didn’t make her honest—and one Denise in a lifetime was more than enough.

  Get to know Mari, yes, but hands off, Simon.

  No romancing, no matter how appealing you find her.

  “We’ll ride first thing tomorrow morning,” he said. “Right now I’m on my way to take a look at one of my Blues who’s off his feed.”

  “Mind if I tag along? I know you told me Lucy is a Blue, but I’d like to see another.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t trust my judgment?”

  She slanted him a look. “When diagnosing horse ailments or in telling a Blue from a dapple-gray?”

  “I can tell vet-visit-serious from layman-treatable. As for Blues—hey, lady, I’m the local expert, as you’re about to find out. Be careful or you’ll hear more about the breed than you care to know.”

  Damn, she was easy to be with. This was only the second time they’d met and he felt as if they’d known each other for years. Had to be the horse connection.

  “What’s his name?”

  It took him a beat to realize she meant the ailing Blue. “Lancelot—the drivers call him Lance.”

  “Do you name them all after King Arthur’s knights?”

  “Used every one of them.”

  “I suppose you’ll rename Lucy something like Elaine the Fair.”

  He shook his head. “Not when she already knows the name you gave her.”

  Her smile of approval warmed him.

  After they’d been to the stable and found Lance already improving, Russ said, “I’ll walk you back to—where you’re staying.” He’d nearly said Haskell’s and hoped she hadn’t picked up on the hesitation. But why should she suspect Russ Simon was a spy?

  He knew some considered spying to be exciting and glamorous. Not him. He hated anything that wasn’t aboveboard.

  Mari looked away from him. “I’m not ready to go there just yet. I think I’ll wander around and look at the shops for a while.”

  It was his cue to tell her he’d see her tomorrow and bow out, but instead he found himself saying, “Why not let an insider help you avoid the worst of the tourist traps?”

  She hesitated a moment before replying, “Well, if you insist.”

  As they started back toward the main street, he said, “I’ll buy you the very finest of Mackinac Island’s famous fudge. This way.”

  “Why is it famous?”

  “Ms. Crowley, you mean to tell me you never heard of Mackinac Island fudge?”

  “Mr. Simon, this is a long way from Nevada.”

  Yes, he thought, just as a Crowley is a long way from being a Haskell.

  Without letting her have a taste in the shop, he carried the white bag of fudge down to the park next to Lake Huron and steered her toward a bench, saying, “Your first bite needs to be savored while at rest so you can concentrate on the remarkable flavor.” Only after they sat side by side did he open the bag, break off a piece and raise it to her lips.

  When she opened her mouth, his fingers brushed her lower lip as he slid the chocolate inside. He drew his hand back quickly, disturbed by the tingle that ran through him from the brief contact.

  Mari did her best to ignore the frisson his touch sent zinging along her nerves. She concentrated instead on the candy. “Umm, yes, it certainly does taste like fudge,” she said.

  He laughed. “One for your side.”

  She grinned, enjoying how relaxed she felt with him. “We’re counting? I’ll have to remember that. Actually, it’s excellent fudge.”

  He dropped the bag onto her lap, saying, “Souvenir T-shirts next?”

  Mari shook her head. Even if she’d wanted one, she couldn’t afford to spend the money she had with her unnecessarily. Though she’d recently gotten a credit card strictly for emergencies, Stan didn’t have any. When Mari was ten, Aunt Blanche had cut up the one she shared with Uncle Stan. Her words echoed down the years: Gamblers got no business with that plastic. You go getting us any more in debt and we’ll lose the ranch.

  Her uncle was no longer a high roller. Unless—and the thought chilled Mari—unless this entire Haskell business was no more than a scheme of his. A gamble. She shivered.

  “Cold?” Russ asked.

  “No.” And, no, too, to that disquieting notion about Stan. Her uncle loved her; he wouldn’t do anything like that to her. He might have been a gambler at one time, but he’d never been under-handed.

  “The lake breeze isn’t exactly warm,” Russ said.

  “I should be getting back,” she told him. There might be word by now about Mr. Haskell’s condition. She ought return to the cottage and find out.

  “I’ll walk you—” he began.

  “No!” Realizing she’d blurted the word, she added, “I mean, I’d like to be by myself for a while. Thanks for the fudge. I’ll meet you in the morning—where? Here in the park?”

  His gaze was frankly assessing, but he didn’t comment other than to say, “Remember where the stable was? I’ll have our horses ready there. Nine?”

  “Okay. See you then.” The bag of fudge clutched in her hand, Mari strode away from the park, aware she was all but running, which was foolish. Still, she couldn’t seem to slow down.

  Running away from Russ when what she really wanted was to be with him? Yes, but did she want to share her story with him? She could hardly go on meeting him without admitting she was staying at the Haskell cottage. And why would she be doing that when the owner was in a New York hospital? If she was a family friend, wouldn’t Russ expect her to be in New York at Mr. Haskell’s bedside?

  She hated to lie. In any case, she’d never been any good at making up believable ones. And, somehow, she didn’t want to lie to Russ at all. Despite their short acquaintance he already felt like a friend.

  And maybe a tad more?

  Chapter Three

  Walking down to the stables the next morning, Mari tried to feel optimistic about what Pauline had told her at breakfast. Mr. Haskell, it seemed, was “holding his own”—whatever that meant. At least he wasn’t worse.

  On such a fine morning, brisk, but with the promise of later warmth, it was difficult to feel anything but upbeat. Or was it actually because she was going riding with Russ? A bit of both, Mari told herself. It had been silly not to tell him where she was staying. Maybe he didn’t even know Mr. Haskell. Still, after Mr. Haskell’s dramatic appearance on TV, probably everyone did. Would Russ connect her with the missing Haskell daughter if she told him she was at the cottage?

  Mari grimaced, disliking having to be secretive with a man she felt was a friend. Maybe she shouldn’t worry about Russ knowing where she was staying. Besides, the island was so small he’d find out sooner or later, anyway. She might as well tell him herself if the chance came to bring it up casually.

  Russ was waiting at the stables with two handsome chestnuts that looked like a matched pair. She tried to tell herself her heart wasn’t racing at the sight of him, and gave him an offhand greeting. “Good-looking pair,” she said, forcing her attention to the horses rather than on him.

  “Same sire and dam,” he told her. “
My friend Nellis told me they were slated for one of the fancier two-horse surreys, but then Jill balked at having anything with wheels behind her, and Jack refused to be hitched unless Jill was beside him. Since they come from a long line of buggy horses, Nellis was surprised but happy when they turned out to be good riding horses. Genes don’t always run true.”

  Mari blinked, unsure if the last few words might not somehow be directed at her. Almost immediately she decided she was way off the mark. He couldn’t possibly know who she was or who she might be. He’s talking about horses and nothing else, you worrier, you, she told herself.

  To calm herself, she rubbed Jill’s nose. “You’re a smart mare,” she said. “I wouldn’t like one of those wheeled things rumbling at my heels, either.”

  “Just like women to stick together,” Russ observed as he gave her a hand up onto Jill’s back.

  “I suppose men don’t?” she countered.

  “Independent to the core, all of us.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He mounted Jack, saying, “We’ll ride around the island’s perimeter this morning to give you an idea of its size. I’ll save the historical spots and unusual rock formations for later trips. That is, if you’ll be staying around for a few weeks.”

  “Uh, maybe.” She hadn’t a clue how long she’d be here. It depended on Mr. Haskell’s health and how soon he might be able to return to the island. After that, who knew?

  “Maybe you’ll be here for a couple weeks, or maybe you’ll put up with my company after today?” he asked.

  Though very aware of how much she enjoyed being with him, she wasn’t about to tell him that. Slanting him a look, she said, “Both. How far is it around the island?”

  “Eight and a half miles.” Letting Jack set an easy pace, Russ led the way from the stables to the lake road that followed the island’s perimeter.

  Mari was charmed anew by the lack of motorized vehicles. “It’s like living before they invented the automobile,” she said as she pulled up even with him. “I can’t get over how different it is here.”

  He gestured to the left, toward the arched span of the Mackinac Bridge, visible in the distance, connecting Michigan’s Lower and Upper Peninsulas. “That’s as close as cars get to the island. Except for a couple of emergency vehicles, there are none here.”

  Mari, watching a sailboat scud along Lake Huron and wishing again she was just a tourist, sighed.

  Russ glanced at her. “Something wrong?”

  She shook her head, not daring to dare tell him how troubled she felt over why she’d come here. Her birth mother had listed her name as Ida Grant on Mari’s birth certificate. On TV, Mr. Haskell had given his daughter’s name as Isabel and said she might be using Morrison as her last name. Why had Uncle Stan been so sure Ida Grant was Isabel Haskell Morrison? As far as Mari knew, he had no real proof.

  As the horses clopped along, Russ pointed out a limestone formation called Devil’s Kitchen. “Not one of the more spectacular. We’ll give it a miss.” Farther on he gestured to a bluff on the right. “Lover’s Leap.”

  “We have a few of those in the Sierras,” she said. “I’ve always thought it strange anyone would want to die for love.”

  “You ever been in love?”

  Had she? With Danny Boy? She’d been infatuated enough at the time, but after the breakup she’d certainly never considered leaping off a cliff because he was gone. Willa insisted her pride had suffered more than her heart. Whatever it was, Mari wouldn’t make the same mistake again. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “How about you?”

  He shrugged.

  “So you don’t know, either,” she said. “I wonder how anyone can ever be sure about being in love?”

  “Could be there’s no such thing.” Pointing again to the right, he said, “There’s where the ill-fated Stonecliff ski hill fiasco was. Lost their shirts. The Island’s not a popular winter resort.”

  In other words, enough talk about love. Which was fine with her. Chemistry, now, that was different. How could she not believe in chemistry when just being with Russ gave her a high? But chemistry was definitely not love.

  “Up a ways is where the British landed in the War of 1812 and took the island from the U.S. We’ll stop for coffee at the snack shop there.”

  “You mean they captured that big fort on the hill overlooking the town?”

  He glanced at her. “No matter how well fortified you think you are, remember there’s always the sneak attack that comes from the direction you least expect.”

  Remember? Was he simply talking about the British landing or something else? His half smile made her think he might be warning her.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she told him.

  At the coffee shop, Russ studied her when she wasn’t watching, acutely aware of her next to him sipping her latte. Sooner or later he was going to have to come to terms with his attraction to her.

  “So in 1812 the British flag flew over the island,” she said.

  “Actually, the battle was in 1814, near the end of the war. After the peace treaty was signed they had to give the fort back to the U.S.”

  She stirred her latte. Without looking at him, she said, “In other words, even a sneak attack may be only temporarily successful.”

  “Sometimes temporary is enough.” She shot him a quick glance and he grinned at her. “All’s fair, you know.”

  In love and war. The words he didn’t say echoed in his mind. This sure wasn’t love. Since spying was a part of war, you might call it that, though. Why not make a play for her instead of trying to deny what he wanted?

  What was he, a male Mata Hari? Did he mean to get her in bed and then expect her to confess she was an impostor? Russ took a swallow of coffee as black as his thoughts.

  “I don’t think so,” she said

  He didn’t have a clue what she meant, and his expression evidently told her so, because she added, “Maybe all’s fair in war, but when it comes to love, it shouldn’t be. Unfairness has no place there.”

  “Not everyone agrees with you,” he said, thinking of Denise. Still, his ex-wife might never have loved him. He wasn’t entirely certain she was capable of love. And how the hell had they got back onto the subject of love, anyway?

  It was past time to get on with the spy game. “If you’re free for dinner tonight, why not have it with me?”

  “Um, well, I’d like to, but—”

  “You wouldn’t condemn me to a meal alone, would you?”

  Mari raised an eyebrow. “Poor you, all by your lonesome.”

  “You got it. Just me and my Blues.”

  “You could have worse company than horses.”

  “And better, too. Just tell me where to pick you up.” He waited for her to hesitate, to try to wriggle out of telling him, as she had yesterday.

  She surprised him. “I’m staying at the Haskell cottage. Do you know where the house is?”

  He nodded. “How is Joe? I heard he was in the hospital.”

  “He’s holding his own.”

  Russ decided not to push further at the moment. The last thing he needed was for her to get suspicious. His dad was going to try to get Joe to order a blood and DNA test on Mari before he came back to the island, but so far the doctors hadn’t let Joe take any calls, even from his attorney, who was also his best friend. Once the tests were done, Russ’s dad had little doubt they’d prove negative, which would mean Mari could be sent packing and not be around to upset Joe once he returned.

  Which was fine. Except that Russ wanted her around awhile longer for his own purposes.

  “Seven?” he asked.

  She nodded, wondering what she was getting herself into. Riding with him was one thing, dinner another. On the other hand, why shouldn’t she accept his invitation? What was wrong with being with a man she liked? She definitely didn’t want to spend her time moping around the Haskell house, wondering if she belonged there. As for Mr. Haskell, whether he was her grandfather or not, th
ere was nothing she could do for him other than hope and pray he recovered.

  As they remounted and continued on around the island, she thought about Russ calling Mr. Haskell by his first name. That was more than she felt free to do. If she were certain he was her grandfather, she might be able to manage Grandpa Joe, but that had yet to be proved.

  “Do you know Mr. Haskell well?” she asked.

  “My father and he are friends. I’ve known Joe all my life.”

  Mari tried to think of a way to ask what he was like, but decided it was best not to. The magazine article she’d read on the plane had been a tad intimidating: “Gruff and forceful, Haskell knows his word is law.”

  Belatedly, she realized that if Russ knew him that well, he must know all about the search for Isabel. Did he suspect why Mari was staying at Haskell’s place? If so, he didn’t mention it for the remainder of the ride.

  When they reached the stables, he said, “I’ll take care of the horses.”

  She shook her head. “I rode Jill. She’s my responsibility.” Dismounting, she led the mare inside.

  “What do you think of Mackinac so far?” Russ asked as they busied themselves unsaddling the horses.

  “I do love Nevada,” she said, “but this island is addictive. Sometimes I feel I’m lost in a time warp.”

  “Reality fades, yes. Can be dangerous.”

  She looked up to find herself trapped in his green gaze, making her want to reach out and touch him. Her breath caught as he took a step toward her. For a long, anticipatory moment she thought he meant to kiss her, but then Jack snorted and stamped a hoof and the spell was broken.

  Dangerous? she asked herself. You bet your sweet patooties.

  After they parted company, Mari decided to look into a few more of the shops before she returned to the house. Though she hadn’t brought much money with her, maybe she could find a dress somewhat more casual than the only one she’d packed. Luckily, her sandals would go with anything. The last shop she went into before climbing the hill to the cottage had a sale rack. Though none of the dresses on it suited her, she found an inexpensive white skirt with a red belt that would look great with the multicolored sandals and one of the shirts she’d brought.