Wendy Etherington - Suiteheart Of A Deal - Suiteheart Of A Deal / My Place Or Yours?

Yup. Keeping busy. It was the only way.

“RISE AND SHINE, sleepyhead. It’s seven o’clock.”

Rainey peeled one eye open and peered up at Beck. When his fuzzy face finally came into focus, she muttered, “You mean, like, in the morning?”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am. I mean, like, in the morning.”

Groaning, she rolled over and burrowed deeper under the blankets. Ten years of working the night shift had turned her into a night owl. She didn’t do mornings. Last night, however, she had hit the sack early, then tossed and turned for hours. In fact, she had been wide-awake when Beck got home. Just after ten—10:23, to be exact. Not that she cared, or anything.

“C’mon, woman.” He jabbed at the blankets.

“Go away!”

“Okay, I’m leaving, but if you don’t get up in the next two minutes, I’ll be back with a bucket of ice water.”

Ice water? A chill ran down Rainey’s spine and she shivered violently. “You’re mean. Go away!”

“Two minutes, woman.”

She poked her head out from under the warm down comforter. “Why do I have to get up this early on a Sunday?”

He grinned. “I have plans for you.”

“What kind of plans?”

“You’ll know soon enough. Now get up. Your breakfast is waiting.”

Breakfast? He had to be joking. Rainey ate breakfast when most people had already eaten lunch, lunch when they were just plopping down in front of the television, and dinner when they were undressing for bed. No way was she putting food in her stomach at this ungodly hour.

After Beck backed out of the room, counting backward from 120, she crawled out of bed, donned her terry cloth bathrobe and pulled a comb through her tangled hair. Still half asleep, she stumbled downstairs, only to be assaulted by the noxious odor of bacon and eggs. Yuck!

“How about cereal with skim milk?” she suggested hopefully. Yawning, she poured a cup of steaming hot coffee and slumped down at the kitchen table.

“Eat up,” Beck commanded, setting a plate of the cholesterol-heavy food down in front of her. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us, and you’re going to need more than cereal.”

“Who ever needs more than cereal?”

“You do. Your cappuccino and croissant days are over. You’re a mountain woman now.”

While Rainey picked at her food, Beck, astonishingly, dropped to the floor and cranked out twenty push-ups. Her mouth fell open. What the devil? Surely he wasn’t this hyper every morning at seven? Puh-leez. Immediately afterward, he sprang to his feet and did a dozen jumping jacks. Then, flushed and panting, he ran on the spot for a while. It was only five minutes or so, but it seemed much longer to Rainey.

Still running, he barked at her like a drill sergeant. “Hey! Eat those eggs. If you don’t, I’m going to make you drop to the floor and give me ten.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “How ’bout I give you ten dollars to get lost?”

“Not funny. Down the hatch, woman.”

Before Rainey knew what had hit her she was in the Fairlane, hurtling down the sun-dappled highway at break-neck speed. Fir trees flew by in a blur. Small wildlife entered her peripheral vision only to vanish milliseconds later. All the while Beck chattered nonstop, switching wildly from one topic to another. He had to be on drugs.

Last night, she had gone to bed cursing him but had quickly come to her senses. For one thing, this was strictly a business deal, and wasn’t it she who had insisted they keep their business and personal lives separate? It might be tough under the circumstances, but it wasn’t impossible.

For another thing, she just couldn’t seem to stay mad at the guy for long. Why was that? Of course, she might just be influenced this time by the fact that he had come home pretty early last night. Obviously he hadn’t been with a woman, as she had assumed. Maybe he couldn’t find one. Oh, yeah, sure! Beck Mahoney—unable to find a woman? The guy would find friendly female flesh in a nunnery.

From time to time, Rainey stole a sideways glance at him. In profile he was treacherously handsome, his aquiline nose and sculptured lips perfectly aligned between his strong forehead and square, manly chin.

As he babbled on about fishing rights in the national parks, she stifled the urge to reach out and touch his cheek. Oh, Rainey, she silently chastised herself, don’t get all sweet on the guy. There’s nothing in it but a broken heart. Besides, things are complicated enough.

When Beck stopped yapping long enough to catch his breath, she demanded to know, once and for all, exactly where they were going.

“Up,” he finally admitted. “Straight up the Galatea Trail in Kananaskis Provincial Park, the most beautiful place on earth.”

He was right. It was beautiful. Breathtaking, actually. Soon after they turned south off the Trans-Canada Highway onto a secondary blacktop, the forest hugging both sides of the road grew taller and denser and more varied. It was an explosion of green, punctuated here and there by startling bursts of pastel. A light breeze whistled through the trees, and the sky above was a perfect robin’s egg blue. Rainey sighed with pleasure—until she realized what Beck had just said.

“What do you mean by up?” she asked. “Exactly how far up are we going? And how are we getting there?”

“Eight kilometers, on foot. That’s about five miles, if you prefer the linear to the metric measurement.”

Eight kilometers? Good grief! Rainey struggled to recall the last thing she had climbed. Oh, yeah. The little ladder astride the bunk beds in Dana’s bedroom. Twenty years ago. Terrific.

“Please tell me we’re not going to be rappelling off the side of anything!” she cried.

He shook his head. “Not today. That’s next week. Today we’re just hiking. That’s about all you city types can handle on a first run.”

In the public parking lot at the mouth of the trail, they encountered two of the giggly young clerks from Nate Frome’s office—a petite blonde with a Kewpie doll mouth, and a lanky brunette who couldn’t peel her eyes off Beck for a second. Looking clear through Rainey, she whined, “Is it true what everybody is saying, Beck? That you’re married?” She made married sound like poisoned.

“’Fraid so, ladies. This is my wife, Rainey.” Beck draped his arm around Rainey’s shoulders and drew her close. She put her arm around him, and they both beamed foolishly at the young women.

“How do you do, Mrs. Mahoney?” the blonde asked politely. Rainey blinked. Mrs. Mahoney? Maybe they should have talked about that name thing, too. Oh, well, it went with the territory, she supposed.

“Very well, thank you,” she replied.

The women immediately dismissed her and started to chatter at Beck. Relieved, Rainey slipped out from under his arm—it felt a little too right—and took another look around.

“You know, you’re putting a big dent in my fan club,” Beck joked after his admirers bounced off in the direction of the trail.

Rainey rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, some dent!”

Laughing, Beck fished his backpack out of the trunk. He had made sandwiches for them, and brought fruit along, too. While Rainey appraised the steep, tree-lined cliffs facing them, he took something out of the backpack. “Rainey?” He tossed it to her. It was a necklace—a whistle, actually, suspended from a long shoelace.

She eyed it suspiciously. “What’s this for?”

“Bears,” he said without looking at her. “The trail will be nearly deserted today. Every now and then, we’ll give it a blow, just to let them know we’re here.”

Rainey gasped. “Bears! Beck Mahoney, you didn’t say anything about bears!”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he said as if she were a hopeless worrywart. “It’s just a precaution, that’s all.”