Dead Aim. Anne Woodard
stir just to look at her—tall, slender, with full breasts, a narrow waist and long, shapely legs that fantasies were made of. Her hair was a casual tangle of short-cropped brown curls that made his fingers itch to touch them. Her nose would never grace Vogue’s cover. Her chin was too square, her mouth too wide and her eyes set too far apart under surprisingly dark, thick brows. And yet there was an appealing warmth in those dark eyes and an irresistible smile on that too-wide mouth that managed somehow to look just right on her face.
Rick swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“You have the look of a man in need of help,” she teased.
“Are you Maggie?”
She nodded. “I’m Maggie. And you are…?”
“Rick.” He cleared his throat. She had the oddest effect on him. “Richard Dornier.”
“Rick Dornier?” A frown flitted across her face so quickly that he wasn’t sure he’d really seen it. “Tina’s brother?”
“You know Tina?”
“Sure. Almond latte. Decaf if it’s after three. Cinnamon orange scone if we have them, or a slice of honey-bran nut bread if we don’t.” She laughed. He’d swear he heard bells ringing.
“She’s such a sweetie,” Maggie added, moving around to the back of the counter. “Where’s she been? I haven’t seen her for a couple weeks.”
The casual comment made something catch in his chest. She was the first person who’d asked about his sister, the first person who’d noticed she hadn’t been around.
He propped his elbows on the marble counter and leaned toward her. “I was hoping you could tell me where she is.”
“Me?” The good humor vanished, and the light in those dark green eyes sharpened. “Maybe you’d better explain.”
“Tina’s missing. She’s been missing for almost two weeks, though her roommate didn’t bother to notify anyone of that fact until a week ago. I’m trying to find her.”
“Two weeks are a long time for someone like Tina to be gone.” She studied him, not quite suspicious, but not nearly so friendly as she’d been a few moments before. “Have you talked to the police?”
“Yes. They checked around, but there was no trace of her, and no trace of…of problems.”
He’d almost said foul play, and that shook him. He refused to consider that possibility. Not yet.
Maggie made a thoughtful little humming noise in her throat, then startled him by asking what he wanted to drink.
“What? Oh!” He straightened, disconcerted. “Uh…whatever. Coffee.”
She plunked a thick white pottery mug down on the counter. “Plain old coffee’s in those Thermoses over there. I’d suggest the dark roast—you look like you could use the caffeine. And some food. When’s the last time you ate?”
“I— Look, coffee’s fine, but I—”
“Can’t help your sister if you keel over from hunger and exhaustion.” She grabbed his hand and wrapped it around the mug. “And don’t waste your time glaring at me like that. I’m immune.”
Rick’s finger obediently slipped through the handle of the mug before he had a chance to blink, let alone refuse.
“You go get your coffee,” she added, opening the glass display case that contained a selection of pastries and plastic-wrapped sandwiches. “I’ll grill you a ham and Brie sandwich and join you in a minute. Take the table in the corner by the window. It’s quiet there and we can talk.”
Rick opened his mouth to protest.
“Coffee and sandwich comes to six-fifty,” she said briskly. And then she grinned and winked at him, and his protest turned into a laugh.
He tossed a ten-dollar bill on the counter and picked up the mug, still grinning. “You can bring the change with the sandwich.”
As he settled at the corner table, Rick realized he felt better than he had all day. More hopeful, suddenly.
Thoughtfully, he rubbed the back of his hand. His skin still tingled where Maggie had touched him.
She was right—he wouldn’t help Tina by forgetting to take care of himself. He’d spent enough time in the backcountry to know that the first guys to collapse on a grueling hike were always the macho fools who thought they were too tough to have to stop for food, water and rest.
And the coffee really was good.
He had to force himself not to hitch his chair over a foot or two so he could see around the potted plant that blocked his view of Maggie Mann.
Rick Dornier wasn’t anything like his delicate, dark-haired sister, Maggie thought as she halved the grilled sandwich, then set a couple of the spicy Greek olives that were a specialty of Joe’s beside it.
Where Tina was pale from too many hours spent studying, the brother was tall, sun-browned and quietly confident. Exactly the long, lean, broad-shouldered kind of confident that she would have expected of a man who made his living studying grizzly bears in the wild. The day’s growth of beard shadowing his jaw simply added to the appeal.
Tina had told her about him. He was Dr. Dornier, actually. A wildlife biologist who taught at some university up in Montana, but who preferred to spend his time in the wilderness studying his beloved bears.
What Maggie hadn’t expected was the sudden, intense…awareness that had struck her when he’d turned that first time and she’d looked up into his rugged, not-quite-handsome but undeniably appealing face.
She wasn’t used to that. Over the years, her work had thrown her together with all sorts of men, and while some of them had been attractive, and a couple had become her lovers, not one had roused an instant reaction like this. She could still feel the lingering effects of the odd zing that had brought her senses to nerve-tingling attention, just at the sight of him.
Maybe she ought to have something to eat.
Instead, she gave herself a mental shake and fixed a cup of coffee for herself—it made people nervous when they were eating and drinking and you weren’t. The last thing she wanted was for Rick Dornier to feel uncomfortable right now.
She picked up the plate with his sandwich. “I’m taking a break, Steve, okay?” she called to the young man who was expertly foaming milk for a cappuccino.
He nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t take his attention off his masterwork.
Maggie grinned. It hadn’t been that long ago she’d considered overbrewed sludge the standard for coffee and flavored artificial creamer the height of class. Her life was never going to be the same after Joe’s.
As she always did, she paused to greet the customers she knew personally. An important part of her job was getting to know them, remembering names and faces and facts. Fortunately, it was also one of her favorite parts of the job.
She’d long ago accepted that the moral ambiguities involved were also part of the job, no matter how uncomfortable they sometimes were.
When she got to Rick’s table, he surprised her by standing and pulling out a chair for her.
“Thanks.”
“No, thank you. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was ’til you brought up the subject.” He slid into his chair with a distracting, loose-limbed grace, then took the plate from her and popped an olive into his mouth. “Mmmm. Good. The sandwich looks even better.”
“It is.” She let him take a couple of bites before she broached the question that interested her almost as much as it interested him. “Do you have any idea where Tina might be?”
He paused with the sandwich halfway to his mouth, then grimaced and set it back