Cassie Miles - Mountain Heiress

Gabby’s arrival made the situation worse. While Charlotte was a nervous little thing who might get herself into trouble with her misplaced handling of her rifle, Gabby was a loose cannon. The first time he’d seen her, she was wearing a leopard bra and not much else. How the hell could he predict what she’d say or do?

As they approached the house, Daphne’s ears pricked up and she made a grumbling noise deep in her throat.

“You’re right, girl. This could be trouble.”

Though Zach knew he couldn’t really talk to his dogs or his horses, he’d always felt like he could communicate with animals. He respected their intelligence and their instincts, which were a hundred times sharper than his own. When Daphne sensed danger, he paid attention.

Reaching over, he scratched behind her ears. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep an eye on them. Michelle would have wanted it.”

Daphne’s mouth dropped open in what looked like a grin. The dog had liked being around Michelle and spent a lot of time curled up at the base of her easel while she painted. Zach couldn’t help wondering if Daphne understood that Michelle was gone and not coming back. More likely, the dog would always approach the Roost with the expectation of greeting the former owner. And who was Zach to say Daphne’s instincts were wrong? Michelle Rousseau might still be here in spirit.

He parked his truck and went to the front door, which stood wide-open in a blatant invitation to intruders. The smell of smoke hung in the air. He stepped inside. “What’s going on?”

Gabby rushed down the hall from the kitchen. In a pair of tight red jeans and a loose jacket striped with neon colors, she looked like an urban butterfly. “I was baking.”

Clearly, that wasn’t the whole story. “And?”

“Charlotte made breakfast this morning, and it was really good. Scrambled eggs and Canadian bacon. So, I thought I’d help out, and I remembered those yummy cookies Rhoda gave me last night. I was cooking. Everything was going fine. And then this dish towel caught fire.”

“Uh-huh.”

“All under control,” she said with a confident smile.

“Uh-huh.”

Today, she had on makeup—a bit of lining around her dark eyes and pink lipstick that emphasized the fullness of her mouth. With her dark hair framing her face, she was striking, almost beautiful. He had an urge to tell her, to caress the delicate lines of her face and to taste those pretty lips.

“Zach, can I ask you a favor?” Before he could respond, she continued, “I made an appointment to see my great-aunt’s lawyer at two o’clock this afternoon. His office is in Aspen, and I need to take my car in for a checkup. It would help if you came with me, in case I have to leave my car overnight.”

“Sure.” He had already cleared his appointments for today, anticipating problems at the Roost.

“I appreciate it.”

When she reached over and casually patted his arm, a current of electricity shot up to his shoulder and spread across his chest. He enjoyed the effect she had on him but hated feeling out of control. The time had come to get a grip. “There’s something important we need to discuss.”

“Anything, you can talk to me about anything.”

From the top of the staircase, he heard Charlotte’s voice. “Here I come,” she shouted, “ready or not.”

The feminine creature that descended the stairs had Charlotte’s long hair and her nervous blue eyes. Otherwise, she was unrecognizable. The makeup she was wearing didn’t cover the hot red blush on her cheeks. Her legs were encased in fishnet stockings, and she wore a short, tight skirt. Her blouse was long-sleeved, lacy and showed curves he never knew Charlotte had.

At the bottom of the stairs, she spun in a clumsy circle, clearly having trouble maneuvering in her high heels. With a huge smile, she looked up at him. “What do you think?”

“You’re real sparkly.”

“Glitter makeup,” Gabby said.

“Me and Gabby wear the same size. She’s a couple of inches taller, but we’re pretty much the same. I don’t know about these shoes, though. They’re kind of big.”

“Get used to it,” Gabby said. “Those shoes are Louboutins. They’re really expensive, and they’re yours now, Charlotte. The Universe told me they should belong to you.” She nudged Zach’s arm. “Doesn’t she look great?”

“It’s a change.” He didn’t particularly like the transformation, but he was glad to see Charlotte happy. “You look real pretty.”

She actually giggled. Zach was certain that he’d never seen this young woman do anything so girlie, and he was damn sure that this fluffy attitude wasn’t the best for discussing security needs. Still, he had to try. “I need for you both to listen to me.”

“Give me a second.” Charlotte stumbled into the front parlor and sank into a white leather chair. “The shoes aren’t working. Trade with me, Gabby. The ones you’re wearing have straps.”

“If you insist.”

They swapped shoes. When Gabby stood, the extra couple of inches from her expensive heels made her almost as tall as he was. She strutted a few paces and grinned down at her shoes. “They fit me, but they belong to you, Charlotte.”

“Whatever.”

“Ladies,” he said, “we need to talk about security. This house isn’t a fortress, but you need to do what you can to discourage unwanted intruders. You can start by keeping the doors closed and locked.”

“You’re right.” Gabby strode to the door, pulled it shut and flipped the latch. “Better?”

He gave a terse nod. “The same goes for the windows. I want you to check and make sure they’re all locked.”

“I’m pretty sure they are,” Charlotte said as she stomped around in the shoes with straps. “Oh, yeah, these are good.”

Gabby hitched her arm through Charlotte’s and asked, “Want a cookie?”

“Only if I make some lemonade.”

“Not milk?”

“I like to drink something sour when I eat something sweet.”

They were ignoring him. Zach cleared his throat to get their attention. “Ladies, we need to—”

“Come on, Zach. Have a cookie.”

“I don’t want a damn cookie.”

“Well, I do.” Gabby pulled out a long strand of Charlotte’s hair and asked, “Have you ever thought of coloring your hair? Maybe going blond?”

Charlotte giggled again. “I couldn’t.”

Zach was ready to bang their heads together. Last night, Charlotte had been scared and brandishing a rifle. Today, she cheerfully sashayed down the hallway, leaving a faint trail of glitter makeup. She’d been suckered in by Gabby’s bad influence. Even Daphne had turned traitor. The dog trotted along after the two women, wagging her tail.

Earlier, when he’d seen the boot print and realized the danger might be real, his first thought was to take Charlotte and Gabby to his house and leave the Roost for whoever wanted to tear the damn place apart. Unfortunately, he doubted that either of these women would agree to that solution unless they were hog-tied, bound and gagged. He had to come up with something else. And he needed for them to pay attention.

In the kitchen, they were nibbling at the cookies. In the sink were the burned remains of two dish towels. Gabby waved to him. “You’ve got to try these, chocolate chip and yummy.”

Clearly, she was the leader. If he convinced Gabby that there was danger, Charlotte would do whatever she said. Keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t yell, he said, “I want to talk to you. Alone.”

“Something wrong?”

“Now.”

“Sure.” She patted Charlotte on the arm. “Why don’t you make some of that lemonade?”

In her high heels, Gabby strolled past him, went down the hallway, stopped beside the staircase with the shattered gargoyle on the newel post and faced him. “You look mad.”