She peeked around the doorjamb. Will crouched in front of the woodstove. Not far away, Zack was on his knees in the chair in front of the computer, his small dark head silhouetted against the screen, reminding her of his father. A wave of regret washed over her, weighing down her heart. She hurriedly turned back to her cooking.

Soon the sound of the crackling fire in the woodstove and the faint hint of pine smoke drifted into the kitchen-along with Will.

He seemed to set the air around her in motion as he leaned against the wall beside the stove and watched, his arms folded across his chest, a frown on his handsome face.

"Who are you?" he asked.

She'd been expecting this. And dreading it. Obviously he'd gotten the wrong impression at his sister's party. She hated to disappoint him further.

"My name is is Samantha. Samantha-" she shot him a sheepish look "-Murphy." Samantha. Samantha-" she shot him a sheepish look "-Murphy."

He nodded as if not surprised that she'd lied to him. She could see herself drop another notch in his eyes. At this rate she'd reach bottom in no time.

"I'm a private investigator."

He sighed. That obviously wasn't what he'd been hoping for, either. "You have some ID, I a.s.sume?"

She retrieved her purse from the bedroom and handed him both her driver's license and private investigator's ID.

He glanced at them, then at her, then handed them back. "b.u.t.te?"

She nodded, biting her tongue not to add, Want to make something of it? Want to make something of it? b.u.t.te wasn't exactly considered scenic Montana, but she liked the old mining city, even with its open pit and its reputation as the "b.u.t.te" of jokes. b.u.t.te wasn't exactly considered scenic Montana, but she liked the old mining city, even with its open pit and its reputation as the "b.u.t.te" of jokes.

"And the party?" he asked simply.

"I was on a job." She waited for him to put two and two together. But he didn't seem interested in what she'd been doing there.

"And the kiss?" he asked, getting to the heart of it.

She took a breath, reluctant to tell him that she'd used him as cover. "I liked it," she said, unconsciously licking her upper lip. "A lot."

His chuckle was short on humor. "I wasn't asking for a rating."

She turned away to dump a can of broth into the pot on the stove. Just get it over with, once and for all. Just get it over with, once and for all. "Okay, I used you. You came along at just the right time. You were cover." "Okay, I used you. You came along at just the right time. You were cover."

"COVER?" His ego went down to the mat for a ten-count.

She mugged an apologetic face over her shoulder. "I never thought I'd see you again."

Obviously. "Well, I think that covers covers that." It just kept getting better. He stared at her, her back straight, shoulders tensed as if she were antic.i.p.ating a blow. that." It just kept getting better. He stared at her, her back straight, shoulders tensed as if she were antic.i.p.ating a blow.

She'd taken her hair out of the ponytail. It fell around her shoulders in golden waves, the same color as the freckles across the bridge of her nose.

He reminded himself that this woman had fooled him. True, the only real lie she'd told him was her name the night of the party. He wasn't sure a "kiss for cover" const.i.tuted a lie. Possibly.

Everything else about her he'd made up himself. Because he'd wanted her to be the woman he thought she was. What a fool.

"Zack was kidnapped," she said, when he didn't ask.

Will told himself he didn't really want to hear this. The less he knew, the better.

"I was hired to bring him back with the least amount of fanfare."

He stared at her. "In other words, without the authorities knowing anything about it?"

"Something like that."

Her evasiveness made him suspect there was a whole lot more he didn't want to know.

He'd seen this sort of thing on late-night TV. People who specialized in stealing back children. Usually, though, the kidnapper was the parent who'd been denied custody. And the private investigator-Well, none of them looked like Samantha Murphy, that was for sure.

"And your plan?" he enquired against his better judgment. Mostly, he just wanted her to have have a plan. Any plan. Just some common ground between them. a plan. Any plan. Just some common ground between them.

"Get him back to Seattle as quickly and safely as possible."

He eyed her askance. "That's it?"

She shrugged. "It's the best one I have right now."

It was obvious she went through life flying by the seat of her pants. And although she had one very fine seat, the whole concept appalled him.

"What if those two guys show up again?" he persisted.

"It's unlikely they will, but I really didn't expect them to chase us in the first place," she said, and frowned. "Kidnappers routinely run the other way."

He supposed she should know. "But still-"

"I've found you can't really plan for most things, anyway."

He would have argued that point twenty-four hours ago. Now he just studied her, wondering about the note of regret in her voice. He wondered who had let her down. Probably a man.

He knew he wasn't getting the whole story. About the kidnapping. About Samantha. He hated to think just how much more there was was to the story. And to this woman. He felt as if he'd only skimmed the surface, and that was terrifying enough. to the story. And to this woman. He felt as if he'd only skimmed the surface, and that was terrifying enough.

"Why you and not the police?"

She dropped her gaze. "It's complicated."

He'd just bet it was. He reminded himself he didn't want want the whole story. But it did make him wonder. Who was he kidding? Everything about this woman made him wonder, when he the whole story. But it did make him wonder. Who was he kidding? Everything about this woman made him wonder, when he should should be concentrating on how he was going to get back to his own life. His birthday was rapidly approaching, and he hadn't found what he was looking for yet. be concentrating on how he was going to get back to his own life. His birthday was rapidly approaching, and he hadn't found what he was looking for yet.

Well, not exactly.

He watched her cook for a moment, liking the image she made. "What about the boy's family?" he asked, unable not to. Zack had said the men who'd kidnapped him claimed they were friends of his "birth mother." Odd words coming out of the mouth of a five-year-old.

She took a breath. "In a nutsh.e.l.l? He's been living with his father in Seattle. There was a burglary at the computer company where Lucas worked. Now Lucas is missing and wanted for questioning by the police. Zack was at a friend's house when he was abducted."

"Where's his mother?"

She stirred at the pot on the stove. "Ca.s.sie?"

He raised a brow. "How many mothers does the kid have?"

"Just Ca.s.sie, his birth mother who left when he was a baby, and his ex-stepmother Mercedes, who left after less than a year of marriage."

This could explain the kid's budding criminal career. It sounded as if the boy had been left more times than a Greyhound bus station. Will felt bad for him, knowing what that kind of instability did to a kid.

Well, at least Zack had Samantha now. And as unconventional as her methods were, she'd obviously go to any extreme to keep the boy safe.

But Will still couldn't help worrying about her and the kid. "Is it just me, or isn't it a little strange that first you have the burglary at the computer company where the father works, then the father's disappearance, then the son's kidnapping? And where do the kidnappers take the kid? To a rest home in Wolf Point, Montana."

She wiped her hands on the ap.r.o.n around her waist and looked over at him. "Like I said, it's complicated."

"Right." And none of his business. "What can I do to help with dinner?"

He followed her sudden glance to the doorway. Zack was peering around the door frame, looking as sweet and innocent as any child Will had ever seen. Except, it was obvious the kid had been eavesdropping, hovering there long enough to hear most-if not all-of their conversation.

He checked to make sure he still had his watch. And his wallet.

"We were just talking about the men who abducted you," she said, no doubt a.s.suming, as he did, that Zack had been listening for some time. "Do you have any ideas why they did that?"

Zack shrugged.

"Not a clue, huh?" she persisted. "What about your dad? Any ideas where he might be?"

He shook his head and looked away. "Is dinner almost ready?"

She eyed the boy but didn't push it. "Just about. Why don't you help Will set the table." She glanced in Will's direction for consent.

Will realized he was hungry. Whatever she'd cooked up smelled wonderful. "Just point us to the dishes."

They ate a surprisingly delicious ca.s.serole at the kitchen table. He was a little in awe of her ability to throw something this good together so quickly and with only a few ingredients. The woman did seem to have some burgeoning spousal talents. It was her other talents that concerned him.

Zack ate without a word, nodding or shaking his head when Samantha tried to draw him into a conversation. Finally she gave up.

After dinner and dishes, Will went into the living room while she put the boy to bed.

Leaving the bedroom door ajar, she joined him in front of the fire. He'd been staring into the flames when she approached. He found himself still very aware of her. And very curious. More curious than he should have been, considering she didn't fit into his plans.

"How did you get into a profession like this?" he asked, still wishing she did anything else.

She warmed her hands in front of the fire, her gaze on the flames. The light played on her face. She really was beautiful in an innocent, wholesome sort of way. The irony of it didn't escape him.

"My father and uncle and some of my cousins are cops, some others are private investigators." She shrugged. "It was that or become a mortician."

He knew she was joking, but a mortician sounded good to him right now. He watched her glance toward Zack's bedroom, and saw the worry in the little furrow between her brows, in the slope of her strong shoulders, in the depths of her bottomless blue-green gaze. He warned himself to stay out of it.

He'd interfered enough just getting into her Firebird, refusing to get out and asking a lot of questions. Samantha knew what she was doing. She did this sort of thing all the time, right? And the kid, well, she'd find the boy's father. Or get Zack to one of his mothers.

Tomorrow, as soon as they found a car rental agency, airport or bus station, Will would be returning to his well-planned, safe and simple life. And his quest for a bride. He doubted his path would ever cross Samantha's again, and wondered why it had even once, let alone twice.

His gaze fell on her face, and he felt that same strong pull he had at the party. What was it about this woman that tugged at him like a hangman's noose?

Before he could stop himself, he took her shoulders in his hands and pulled her to him. This time the kiss was all his idea. And a bad one at that. Her lips parted, and she leaned into him as if drawn by a force of her own. He drew her closer, tasting her, teasing her tongue with his, feasting on her luscious inviting mouth, taking but wanting more. So much more.

She pulled back first, her eyes dark with desire. And quiet despair. She didn't have to say a word. They both knew how impossible this was.

He reminded himself that his birthday was only days away. Just the thought of his self-imposed deadline to find a prospective mate made him grit his teeth. He should be out looking. Not kissing this shamus/child-napper.

"We should get some sleep," she said. "We leave early in the morning."

"I'll take the couch," he said hoa.r.s.ely. There was only one other bedroom aside from the one Zack was in.

She didn't put up an argument. Probably decided to let him have a little control over his life. How thoughtful. She got him some bedding and then bid him good-night, disappearing into the second bedroom but leaving the door ajar.

He stood before the fire for a long time, staring into the flames, feeling anxious and wide-awake, the kiss still coursing through him like high-voltage electricity, giving him a buzz, making him jittery.

After a while, the fire burned down and his heart rate slowed. The fire inside him cooled. He returned to his usual sensible self again, and went to look in on Zack.

The little boy was out, a slight smile on his cherub face. The kid was was cute. He had his arm around his backpack as if everything he cared about was inside. Will wondered if that was true. What had this boy's life been like? And how had he become such an adept thief at such a young age? cute. He had his arm around his backpack as if everything he cared about was inside. Will wondered if that was true. What had this boy's life been like? And how had he become such an adept thief at such a young age?

Will smiled wryly, remembering his own childhood. He wondered if he didn't have more in common with Zackarias Lucien O'Brien than anyone would have suspected.

He left the bedroom door partially open and glanced into the other bedroom. Samantha was curled in a fetal position, the covers kicked off. He stepped in and quietly pulled the quilt up over her slim frame. In slumber, she had Zack's childlike angelic sweetness about her.

Unless you noticed the barrel of her pistol sticking out from under her pillow.

Chapter Four.

Samantha woke just before daybreak, the dream so real she jumped out of bed, her heart pounding, and rushed in to check on Zack.

Curled in the middle of the double bed, he looked even smaller and more vulnerable than usual. She felt her breath catch at the sight of his tiny sleeping form. So young. So alone. So scared.

She knew how he felt. Since the night of the party, her life had been thrown into spin cycle. Lucas missing, suspected of a burglary at the computer company where he'd worked. The police looking for him. Zack kidnapped. And her house ransacked.

She thought about the kidnappers and what Will had said about them taking the boy to the rest home. It didn't make any sense. Unless you knew Lucas.

So why hadn't he called again? She'd been so sure he would. From the moment Ca.s.sie had contacted her, Samantha had believed Lucas was behind Zack's so-called kidnapping, just as Ca.s.sie had. She'd been convinced of it when she'd learned from her cousin Charley, the cop, that Lucas had purchased two train tickets to Wolf Point. She hadn't been surprised when she'd found the kidnappers had taken Zack to Wolf Point to his great-grandmother's rest home.

That theory began to unravel when Lucas didn't show up; when she found out that Lucas's grandmother, Gladdie O'Brien, had Alzheimer's and didn't know anyone, including Lucas, and hadn't for months. But Samantha hadn't gotten worried until the kidnappers had chased her after she'd s.n.a.t.c.hed Zack. They hadn't looked like friends of Lucas's. They'd looked like thugs, not computer geeks.