Copper Beach

looked at Sam. “Dawson will be coming up here in thirty minutes.”

    Sam walked to the bed and set the coffee on the nightstand. “Who is Dawson? Or should I ask?”

    “Technically speaking, he’s my stepbrother. He’s the son of my father’s current wife by her first marriage.”

    “The man standing next to you in the back-cover photo of your father’s new book.”

    “Right.”

    “I get the feeling you’re not close.”

    “No kidding,” she said. She grabbed her robe off the foot of the bed. “Which is, as Gwen has pointed out, a real shame, because Dawson is the heir to a fortune on his mother’s side. His Strickland ancestors made a ton of money in the lumber industry and later did some very shrewd investing in commercial real estate here in Seattle.”

    “Dawson is connected to those Stricklands?”

    “Yep, those Stricklands. His grandmother, Orinda Strickland, controls the family money now. Dawson and his mother, Diana, are the only heirs.” She pulled on the robe and picked up the mug. “Thanks for the caffeine.”

    He gave her a slow, sexy, intimate smile that raised the hairs on the back of her neck in an exciting way.

    “Any time,” he said.

    She flushed and looked toward the dresser, searching for a distraction. The old herbal was gone. Suspicion slashed through her. She whirled around.

    “Where’s the book?” she asked.

    “In my duffel bag. Figured it would be safer there.”

    “What, exactly, do you mean by ‘safer’?”

    “By ‘safer,’ I meant a little more secure than it was lying on top of your dresser.” Sam’s voice hardened. So did his eyes. “I’m not planning to steal the damn thing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

    She reddened. “I didn’t mean to imply that you would do that.”

    “Sure you did. It was the first thing that popped into your mind when you noticed that the book was missing.”

    “Sorry,” she mumbled. “That was rude.” She sipped some coffee.

    “Do you always wake up this suspicious after a date?”

    Shocked, she choked on the coffee and sputtered for a few embarrassing seconds. Eventually, she managed to compose herself.

    “That wasn’t a date,” she managed weakly. “Not exactly.” She fumbled to a halt.

    “Let’s see, there was tea and conversation, a kiss in a garden, and there was sex. Really great sex, I might add. I admit that the late-night prowler in your living room, the burning herbal and taking the dog out for a walk at two in the morning were a little unusual, but aside from that, I’d say we met most of the requirements for a date.”

    “Or a one-night stand,” she said.

    “Or that,” he agreed, a little too readily.

    She was feeling cornered, and she knew she sounded surly. She did not dare look in a mirror. Her face was probably scarlet. She drew herself up and squared her shoulders.

    “Excuse me. I need to get into the shower and get dressed,” she said.

    She fled toward the bathroom.

    “Coward,” Sam said behind her. He sounded amused.

    She closed the door very firmly.

15

    SAM DID A QUICK SURVEY OF THE FREEZER, CUPBOARDS AND refrigerator. The refrigerator was mostly empty, but he located half a loaf of bread and some eggs. He unearthed a package of frozen soy sausages in the freezer and scored a jar of peanut butter in a cupboard.
    Newton sat alertly in the middle of the kitchen, watching each step of the breakfast preparation process with rapt attention. Sam tossed him half a slice of toast slathered with peanut butter. Newton snagged it neatly out of the air and wolfed it down.

    Abby finally emerged from the bedroom. Sam punched the button on the microwave to nuke the pale gray sausages. He glanced at the clock.

    “We’ve still got a few minutes before your brother arrives,” he said.

    “My stepbrother,” she corrected. She walked into the kitchen and picked up the coffeepot. “And I’m glad we’ve got some time, because I think I need another cup of coffee before I deal with him. I can’t imagine why he wants to see me. Something bad must have happened. Maybe someone fell ill or is in the hospital. But I would have expected a phone call if that was the case.”

    He watched her carry the mug around to the other side of the counter and perch on one of the stools. She was wearing a pair of snug-fitting brown trousers and an amber sweater that was about the same color as her hair. Her eyes were shadowed with anxiety.

    The microwave pinged. He opened