Smooth Talking Stranger

"You took her out. You can't deny that you were interested in her."

"Sure, I was interested. At first. But five minutes after the date started, I knew I wasn't going to sleep with her. There were warning signals."

"Such as?"

His gaze turned contemplative. "It was like she was trying too hard. Laughing too loud. Constantly nervous. The questions and answers didn't co

I understood what he was trying to express. "Hyper-vigilant," I said. "Manic. Like any little thing might make her jump out of her skin. Like she was always trying to think two steps ahead."

"Exactly."

I nodded as I sorted through memories that were never far below the surface. "It's because of how we were raised. My parents divorced when I was five and Tara was three, and after that Dad was out of the picture. So we were left alone with my mother, who makes everyone around her crazy. Explosions. Drama. There was no such thing as a normal day. Living with her all those years trained Tara and me to expect disaster at any moment. We both developed a lot of coping mechanisms, including hyper-vigilance. It's a hard habit to get rid of."

Jack watched me intently. "You did, though."

"I had a lot of counseling in college. But mostly I'm okay because of Dane. He taught me that living with another person doesn't have to mean daily chaos and drama. I don't think Tara has ever had someone stable like Dane in her life." I nudged my wineglass toward him, and he obligingly refilled it. Staring moodily into the inky depths of cabernet, I continued. "I feel guilty for not staying in touch with her the past couple of years. But I was tired of trying to save her. It was all I could do to save myself."

"No one could blame you for that," he murmured. "You're not your sister's keeper. Let it go, Ella."

I was puzzled by a sense of co

"No, just the middle sheep. I can't stand talking about investment strategies, leveraging, buying on margin… None of it interests me. I like building things. Fixing things. I'm a nuts-and-bolts guy."

It occurred to me as I listened to Jack that he and Dane had one rare quality in common: each man knew exactly who he was, and was entirely comfortable with it.

"I started working at a management company out of college," Jack continued, "and eventually got a loan and bought the business."

"Did your dad help you?"

"Hell, no." A rueful grin. "I made mistakes he probably would have steered me away from. But I didn't want anyone saying he'd done it for me. I took responsibility for all the risk. And I had a lot to prove, so I sure as hell didn't want to fail."

"Obviously you didn't." I studied him. "Interesting. You seem like the alpha male type, but you're the middle son. Usually middle children are more laid-back."

"For a Travis, I am laid-back."

"Eek." I gri

"How often does the baby wake up?"

"About every three hours."

We finished dessert and the rest of the wine. Jack went to the phone, dialed for room service to collect the table, and picked up his jacket.

Pausing at the door, he looked down at me. "Thanks for di

"You're welcome. And I warn you, if you back out of the doctor's visit after this, I'm going to take out a hit on you."

"I'll pick you up at nine." Jack didn't move. We were standing close, and I was disconcerted to feel my breath quicken. Although his posture was relaxed and easy, he was so much bigger than me that I had a subtle sense of being physically dominated. What surprised me was that the feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Is Dane the alpha type?" he asked.

"No. Beta all the way. I can't stand alphas."

"Why? Do they make you nervous?"

"Not at all." I gave him a mock-threatening glance. "I eat alpha males for breakfast."

There was a spark of mischief in his dark eyes. "I'll be over here early, then." And he left before I could manage a reply.

SIX

I wouldn't have believed it possible, but my second night with Luke was even worse than the first. The glow of contentment I'd gotten from an amazing steak di

A fifteen-minute shower and two cups of stale-tasting coffee from the miniature countertop coffeemaker revived me somewhat. I dressed in khakis and a light blue shirt with elbow-length sleeves, and flat braided-hemp sandals. I debated whether or not to blow-dry my hair, afraid the noise would wake the baby, and then I decided grimly that he would damn well have to cry.

After drying my hair into a smooth bob, I switched off the appliance.

Silence.

Had something happened to Luke? Why was he so quiet? I rushed into the bedroom and checked on him. He was lying peacefully on his back, his chest rising and falling, cheeks watercolor-pink. I touched him just to make sure he was okay. He yawned and closed his eyes more tightly.

"Now you want to sleep," I muttered. I sat beside him, staring at the remarkably fine skin, the delicate lashes, the tiny drowsing features. His eyebrows were so sparse and silky, they were almost invisible. He looked like Tara. I could make out the resemblance in the shape of the nose and mouth-although the hair was inky-dark. Like Jack Travis's, I thought, fingering the soft strands.

Leaving the bed, I went to detach my cell phone from its plug-in charger. I dialed my cousin Liza.

She picked up immediately. "Hello?"

"It's Ella."

"How's the baby?"

"He's fine. Have you made any progress on finding Tara? Because if not-"

"I found her," Liza said triumphantly.

My eyes widened. "What? Where is she? Did you talk to her?"

"Not directly. But there's this guy she goes to sometimes when she's having a tough time…"

"Goes to?" I repeated warily. "You mean, like dating?"

"Not dating, exactly. He's married. Anyway, I thought Tara might have gone to him. So I found his number and left a message for him, and he finally called me back. He says she's okay, and she's been with him the past couple of days."

"Who is this guy?"

"I can't tell you. He wants his name kept out of this."

"I'll bet he does. Liza, I want to know exactly what is happening to my sister, and where she is, and-"

"She's at a clinic in New Mexico."

My heartbeat accelerated to a pace that made me light-headed. "What kind of clinic? Rehab? Is she doing drugs?"

"No, no, it's not drugs. I think she had a breakdown or something."

The word "breakdown" scared me, making my voice ragged as I asked, "What's the name of the place?"

" Mountain Valley Wellness."

"Did this guy you mentioned check her in? Did she check herself in? What kind of shape is she in? "

"I don't know. You'll have to ask her yourself."

My eyes screwed shut as I forced myself to ask, "Liza… she… didn't try to hurt herself, did she?"