The Black Sheep And the Princess. Donna Kauffman
cheeks drained of color, and she swallowed hard.
“You may not even know what you’re up against,” he said, a tad less stridently. “So stop looking the gift horse you have in the mouth and let me help you.”
Her chest rose and fell more quickly.
“Look at me.”
Her throat worked.
“Kate.”
She swung her gaze to his, and there was no mistaking the fatigue, wariness, and the healthy dose of fear he saw there. “What?”
“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t the faintest freaking clue why I’m here. Maybe it’s some sort of whack karmic justice, or God having a really big laugh at my expense. All I know is that I felt—we all felt—like it was the right thing to do.” Now it was his turn to look away. Because he still wasn’t being completely truthful with her. “And maybe it’s because once I saw your picture, it stirred up a bunch of stuff I thought I was long done with. Stuff that not even my father dying stirred up.”
He felt her gaze flicker to his and looked up in time to catch it, hold it.
“Meaning what?” she asked.
“Meaning we have unfinished business, you and me.”
“We don’t have any business. We never did.”
“I know.” His grin was slow, but it kept on growing until he saw the color steal back into her cheeks. “That’s the unfinished part.”
Chapter 4
Kate didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or throw up. Her stomach was in knots, her emotions were all over the map…and her body was responding to Donovan’s grin as though she were still seventeen and prowling the campgrounds trying to sneak a glimpse of him with his shirt off.
“The only business I’m interested in is getting my camp up and running.”
“What’s the holdup on starting the renovations? How long have you been up here?”
“A month. I’m still assessing what needs to be done and organizing the labor I’ll need.” Although that had also proved to be a more difficult challenge than she’d anticipated.
“And?”
“And what? It’s not something that gets done overnight. My target opening date is next spring. I’m in good shape.”
“Tell me about the developers. Did the papers have that right? Is there interest from them on the property?”
“I—I wouldn’t know. Exactly.”
He frowned. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“Shelby and I still have some details to work out. He’s—still the legal owner of the property. Any dealings with developers would have been through him.” Something she’d thought long and hard about after Donovan had left last night. Could they be any part of the reason why he hadn’t shown up? She knew about the articles; her attorney had mentioned them to her during their last talk, that word had gotten out about the wacky heiress to Louisa Graham’s fortune giving it all away. She hadn’t read them or paid any real attention to what he’d been saying about them. She didn’t get the Times up here in Ralston. And her focus was on getting started on the renovations, not on what Manhattan society thought of her business dealings. But maybe she should have paid closer attention. The developer angle had been news to her.
“What do you know about Timberline?”
“Is that the development company? I’ve never heard of them.”
“The news story made it sound like—”
“I don’t care what they made it sound like. I haven’t heard of them. If it wasn’t for my lawyer—and you—I wouldn’t even know my inheritance situation was news.”
“They didn’t interview you for the article?”
She shook her head.
That quieted him for a moment.
The silence didn’t soothe her rapidly fraying nerves. “Is there a problem? What in the world did it say? I thought it was just some piece ridiculing me for giving up Louisa’s fortune.”
She felt his gaze on her.
“I wouldn’t have come up here if that had been the case. It specifically mentioned the vandalism and the developers. If you didn’t tell them about that, who did? Shelby?”
Her mind was spinning again. “I—I don’t know. I suppose it would have to have been.” Except her stepbrother didn’t know about the vandalism. Not through her anyway. And she seriously doubted he was keeping close tabs on the property itself. It had sat vacant now for almost a decade, and clearly no one had been paying any attention to it up to this point.
But then he hadn’t mentioned the developers to her either. Had he suddenly developed a renewed interest in his initial inheritance?
“What steps have you taken regarding the graffiti and any other damage?”
“What did the article say about the development deal, specifically?” she asked at the same time.
Mac answered first. “Not much, other than an attempted buyout had been made. And that there had been reports of vandalism on the property. Did you report that to the sheriff’s office?”
“Yes.” For all the good it had done. Gilby had assured her it was nothing but some local delinquents. Except Ralston, the nearest town to Winnimocca, was still almost an hour away. She had no “locals.” She’d gotten up this morning and called his office, only to be brushed off again. So she’d decided to head down and park herself in front of Gilby himself until he agreed to send someone out again to look at the new damage.
“Did you file a report?”
“For what it was worth, yes.”
“What’s been done?”
She debated telling him. She still didn’t know why he was really here. But a trip to see Gilby would give him the same information. “They sent someone out, but he essentially patted me on the shoulder and told me not to worry my pretty little head about it, that it was just some kids having a laugh at my expense. He said if I actually saw anybody and could give a description, or saw a vehicle on the property that I could get plate information off of, he’d be happy to follow up on that. Otherwise, it was a matter for me to take up with my insurance company.”
“But he didn’t happen to mention that anyone else’s property was being vandalized in the area.” Mac made it a statement.
She shook her head. “No. And I sort of thought ‘Go Home, Rich Bitch’ was pretty personal, but they didn’t seem to share my concern.”
“Is the sheriff aware of the particulars in terms of ownership of the property?”
She glanced over at him, her wariness returning. “I don’t know why he would be. Through me filing the report, he knows I’ve come back to rebuild here and open a camp. But I’ve also been making calls to some of the construction businesses in Ralston, trying to line up estimates.” Not that she’d been all that successful on that front either. She’d chalked it up to the old-fashioned mentality of most of the guys she’d talked to, who didn’t want to deal with a woman. They’d find out she was more determined than they were narrow-minded. She figured as soon as she hired one crew, and they realized she was serious and could pay them, the rest would come calling. “Ralston is a small town, word travels, so I’m sure it’s no secret around the whole county that I’m here and planning to reopen the camp. I assume they all believe I’m the owner, and I let them believe that. It’s merely a formality anyway.”
“When does it become official?”
She faltered. “I—I’m not sure.”