The Art of Love and Murder (10 page)

They seemed to have quite a few things in common, including Hopi heritage and deceased spouses. She was so easy to be with. Her words and her eyes invited him to open up, took him to the brink more than once...mostly about Muuyaw and the robbery gone bad.

The last thing he wanted was to remember all the details of the Muuyaw theft.

After eight years, he’d finally come to some sort of compromise with himself that had numbed him; the only way he could deal with his actions and his loss. Now, after all this time, a beautiful, engaging woman breezed into town with a mystery about her past, a mystery that connected them and dredged up an event he’d tried to forget. Their chance meeting left him with something clawing at his insides.

The wind flew around the train, lifting her hair and swirling ebony around her face. The urge to pull her close grabbed him. Her waist begged hugging, her eyes invited and her lips promised pleasure. He wanted to hold her, help her in her quest to discover her roots. To protect her? She flirted and openly engaged him, but he doubted she meant too much by her actions. She didn’t need him or his protection. She, too, knew she’d soon be gone.

When the last car passed, she pushed strands from her eyes. “I think you like trains, too.”

“It’s part of Flagstaff. A good part.” They crossed over the tracks, walking toward the hotel. The night couldn’t end quite yet. “How about a cup of coffee in the Rendezvous before you call it a night?”

“All right. I’d like to get my bag out of the car trunk first and take it up to my room.”

“We can do that.”

As they stepped off the curb, she brushed against him. The contact might have been accidental, but his body responded all the same. When her hand had rested on his in the restaurant, the touch flowed through him like an aphrodisiac. Would she want an affair, an encounter in a town away from home, brief and pointless? He wanted her, for however brief.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t the same sky we have in Scottsdale.” She gestured toward the heavens. “Look at all those stars.”

“High, clear air.”

“Oh, please, don’t spoil it with science.”

“Ah...okay. It’s a known fact that the American Indians around this area draw more heavenly bodies overhead. It’s part magic and part romance.”

“Romance?” Her voice softened, and she looked at him.

“Indigenous people are quite romantic.” He suppressed a smile, keeping up the pretense of a serious lecture.

“I didn’t know that. And how much American Indian blood do you possess, Sheriff Meadowlark?” Her tone came across as come hither, even with the most benign words.

“Enough.”

“How much would be enough?”

He laughed. “Beautiful
and
witty.”

Her eyes widened at him. The streetlamp played on their startling, lime green color. “Why, Chance, I think your Hopi side is showing.”

“I’ll try to keep that in check.” He stopped at the back of her car.

“Please don’t.” She clicked the trunk release.

As she brushed by him, her hip grazed his leg and her breasts whispered along his side. He flinched, his hands imagining the softness if he dared to cup the roundness. She bent to lift her bag from the trunk, and the sight sent a hot streak of arousal bucking against his jeans.

He wanted to grab her, pull her into him, but instead said, “Let me have that.”

She faced him as the bag transferred from her hand to his. They stood toe to toe; his hand lingered on hers. His body came alive with sensations he’d nearly forgotten existed. His lips twitched into a smile he couldn’t contain. Lost in her eyes, sensing her face inching forward, he didn’t register his movement of closing the trunk.

With the loud thunk, she jumped and laughed. When she strolled ahead of him and opened the hotel door, she looked over her shoulder with a tease on her lips. “Coming?”

He wanted nothing more than to follow her.

“I’ll only be a moment.” At the foot of the stairs, she took the bag from him.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her hips as she negotiated the steps and disappeared around the corner. Would she have let him in her room if he’d followed?

Chapter Five

Lacy trotted up the stairs, digging for her key as she went.
That’s strange
. The ‘do not disturb’ sign lay on the floor in front of the door. That morning, she’d left her makeup spread out and her breakfast remains on the table so she’d declined maid service. Now, when she closed the door behind her, the unmade bed gave her pause. The bed appeared as though the maid had gotten the bedding halfway off and quit. The closet door stood open, her empty suitcase pulled partially out. Then she noticed a drawer not completely closed. She hadn’t left her room like this. She glanced around once more and left. With deliberate haste, irritation nagging her, she headed quickly for the lobby desk. Chance approached her, but she went straight to the Black Fairy.

“Penny, I seem to have a problem.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Dahl, what’s wrong?”

“Someone rifled through my room. It’s a mess.”

Penny gasped. “Let me check who was on housekeeping this morning.” She pulled a clipboard from under the counter. “Laura. It says your sign was out all day so she didn’t enter your room.” Her wide, black-rimmed eyes blinked. “No one went into your room.”

“
Someone
went through my room.” Her heart pattered in her chest. “Call the police.”

Penny glanced at the sheriff next to her.

Chance touched Lacy’s arm. “Let me take a look. Go ahead and call, Penny. We’ll need to file an official report.” He nudged her toward the stairs.

“This is creepy. Why would anyone break into my room?” She gripped the key in her hand.

“Give me the key.”

“Here. Two eighteen.”

Chance opened the door then squatted to inspect the lock area. “It’s an old door, marred wood, old metal.” He lifted his head. “It was locked, right?”

“Yes, definitely.” She nodded and hugged her arms against her chest. “I had to use the key to get in.”

“Someone must have known what they were doing. Or had a key.” He juggled her key in his hand and frowned, then pushed the door open.

She let him take the lead. Her stomach churned as they glanced around the room.

He turned to her. “Is anything missing?”

“Not on first look. All that I have are clothes, cosmetics, the usual.”

“Take a closer look around.”

She opened drawers, peered in the closet and bathroom.

“How about jewelry?”

“No. I packed light.”

“I’d hate to see if you packed heavy.” Chance smirked, his attention on the shoes in the closet.

“I mean as far as jewelry, wise guy.” His levity smoothed over her jitters.

“What’s in your bag?”

“The sketches?” She’d carried the canvas bag around so much today she’d forgotten it hung on her shoulder.

He rubbed his jaw line. “They could be Muuyaw’s?”

“Maybe.” She fingered the strap. “I’m not sure yet. I’ve had them with me all day.”

“Your room could’ve been a random target. Someone is very experienced at picking locks...or it’s a hotel employee.”

“I hope not.” She clutched the strap of her bag tighter and dismissed the idea that anyone would be looking for her sketches. “Thieving hotel employees? Ghosts are bad enough.” She laughed but didn’t feel much mirth.

“If nothing’s missing...” Chance shifted his feet, drawing her attention from the mess to him. His face wore the same expression from last night;
I’ll humor you for now, lady
.

“You don’t think anyone has been in here, do you?” First a phantom stalker and now this—a robbery without anything missing. “It’s not the damned ghosts, if—”

“Ms. Dahl?”

She turned to greet the police.

****

A half hour later, the two policemen left. They’d known the sheriff. Part of the time they’d spent investigating her as much as the incident. Although they’d maintained professional voices and stoic faces, she didn’t miss the glances between them and Chance. His presence in the hotel room of a female tourist was clearly none of their business. They’d closed the door leaving them alone in the small room.

“I’m not sure they were too concerned,” Lacy commented, hands on hips.

He shrugged. “There’s nothing missing, no forced entry. Not much they can do.”

“They asked me twice if I hadn’t left the room like this.”

“Well...”

She threw her hands out in exasperation. “So, I’m not a neat person in a hotel room.” She turned to glare at him and saw the half-smile on his face. “Oh!” She punched at his chest.

He cocked an eyebrow, and the sensual look had her wanting to push him onto the bed and fall on him. Did he know how attractive, how irresistible he came off with his seriously sexy expressions? Yes, he probably damned well did, and she needed to damn well ignore it.

“I’m teasing, you know. You’re not that messy.”

She rolled her eyes, but his face remained neutral.

“This really is unnerving.” She meant the thought of someone going through her stuff, although the comment could describe being alone in her room with the appealing sheriff.

“I’d suggest you change rooms, but if it’s an employee, they now know you don’t keep anything valuable in the room, so you shouldn’t be bothered again. The police will give a copy of the report to management. This place is world famous. They don’t want this kind of thing happening, so they’ll do an investigation of the staff.”

She looked at the canvas bag now sitting on the floor.

He followed her direction. “Can I see?”

“Oh, yes. Maybe they’ll jar another memory from the theft.” She caught herself. He’d had an odd reaction to the mention of the theft at dinner. “Or maybe since you’ve lived in Flagstaff so long you’ll recognize them.”

“Not all my life. But let me take a look.”

She spread the sketches on the table then removed the carving from its wrapping.

“I’ve seen some photos of Muuyaw’s sculptures, but since I’m not an art connoisseur, I can’t say. Haven’t seen these before.” He picked up the photo of the chest. “Treasure chest?”

“That’s what the sketches and pictures were in. Kaya made it, carved it. She signed the bottom.” A growing certainty filled her. “Muuyaw and Kaya are...connected.”

“Maybe you’ll get more answers tomorrow.”

“I certainly hope so.”

They stood in a breath of silence for a moment. She didn’t want him to leave, but the words wouldn’t come. Her man-reading skills were non-existent. If only she knew his thoughts.

“Use the double lock when you’re in the room.” Chance nodded his head toward the door.

“Because of the sketches? The only people who even know about them are the lady at the gallery and Kaya’s stepsister.” Neither seemed likely to break into a hotel room. “They couldn’t absolutely identify these as Muuyaw’s, so they shouldn’t have any value to them or anyone else.”

“Use the double lock.” It wasn’t a request.

She nodded as a promise, his commanding voice held her with the simplest of words. Out the window, a car passed by on the street below. Someone in the hall called to a child. Then the silence grew. Her comfort level dropped away. He gazed into her eyes, that way he had of looking deeper than she thought he should, making her uncomfortable in a good way. She wanted to run or fall into his arms. Not just stand there and take it.

“Are you still up for a stop in the Rendezvous or are you too tired?” His soothing voice rocked her.

“Tired?” What he said only partially registered. She still thought about falling into his arms.

He smiled. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

Neither tired nor sleepy, but she didn’t want a cup of coffee either. What she wanted stood right in front of her. “Mmm...I don’t know.”

“Coffee might not be good.” He shuffled closer. “Might keep you up, huh?”

Her heart thumped against her ribs. She swallowed, and her answer in the form of a question came in a whisper. “Would it keep you up?” She tipped her chin higher; wet her lips with a nervous swipe of her tongue. The heat he gave off swelled his fresh pine needle scent to a woodsy smell, taking his rugged sexuality to a new level.

He brushed a stray strand from her face and let his fingers tangle in the section. His mouth twitched as he trailed his hand down her neck, coming to rest on her shoulder. His attention dropped lower. She breathed deep, expanding her chest to meet his appraisal. His hand slid to her waist, urging her body into his.

When his lips touched hers, she leaned hard against him, her arms encircling his chest. The strength of the muscles beneath her arms fired passion down her body. When their tongues met in a slow waltz of pleasure, her palms against his back absorbed his shudder. His grasp tightened on her waist, bringing her against his growing desire. Scared, excited, unsure of what she should do, yet knowing what she wanted, all washed over her at once.

As if her thoughts were set to music, the erratic, jazzy tune of her cell filled the air.

A moment of hesitation, her hands stilled on his back, and the kiss continued. She relaxed her body into his embrace as her heart raced. The ring persisted.

His head moved a fraction, enough to break the kiss. She didn’t move, but his grip on her lessened. The phone quieted, and he stepped back.

She swallowed, centered on her breathing when he stared into her face. Gasping at him would be embarrassing. His focused eyes and wet lips consumed her vision.

“Was that the bell?” He spoke low and whispery.

Lacy blinked, determined to find her voice. “You mean the end of round one?”

His forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry, Lacy.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m not someone you—” His feet shuffled.

The cell rang again. It barely registered. She only cared about hearing his words, understanding his meaning.

“Go ahead.” He nodded and retreated farther from her. “Answer it.”

She would have rather smashed the damn thing, but answered it instead.

“I know something about the hunk, Lace.”

“Can I call you back, Phoebe?” Her words sounded desperate in her ear. She bit her lip, unable to take her eyes off the man who threatened to open the door and walk out without finishing what he’d begun.