Five minutes later, Bob walked in, late as usual. Dark-haired and handsome at nineteen, he was sure of himself to the point of arrogance. But when it came to actual experience or know-how to back up his ego...he had a lot to learn. Especially when it came to running things at Bucket List Enterprises. After three weeks of struggling to train him, Terri had doubts about his willingness to learn any of it. But since his father was one of Buck’s partners, she was stuck with him. She sighed as he waved a greeting. What she wouldn’t give for some reliable help.
After telling him where she was going and leaving him with some brief instructions, she shoved on her sunglasses and dashed out through the rustic, open-beamed lobby of the luxury hotel that was the center of Buck’s business. Her vintage Jeep was parked in the employee row, next to Bob’s Corvette. Piling into the driver’s seat, she swung onto Porter Hollow’s main street and headed for the nursing home. Her long chestnut hair, caught back in a ponytail, waved behind her as she drove.
By the time she arrived, the crisis was over. “Harriet calmed down not long after we called you,” the nursing director told her. “She finally ate some breakfast and went to sleep in her lounge chair in front of the TV.”
“You’re not giving her anything to make her sleep, are you?” Terri demanded.
“Of course not, dear. She’s just old and tired. Any little thing wears her out these days.”
Terri took the stairs to the second floor, walked down the carpeted hallway and opened the door to her grandmother’s tiny studio apartment. The TV was blaring a popular game show, but the old woman wasn’t watching. She lay partway back in her old leather recliner, her head sagging to one side like a tired little sparrow’s as she slept. She looked so small and frail that Terri had to fight back tears.
After turning off the TV, Terri left without waking her. She would come back to visit tonight after dinner. Right now she needed to check on Buck.
Worry gnawed at her as she turned onto Main Street. Buck had worked hard to build his business, and he took a hands-on approach to running it. The other side of that was that he played as hard as he worked. Oversleeping after a wild night wasn’t unheard of. But it wasn’t like him to drop out of sight without telling her, or at least leaving his phone on so she could reach him. Something had to be wrong.
On this warm mid-June day, Main Street was crowded with tourists. Visitors roamed the boardwalks that lined the narrow roadway, browsing the expensive boutiques and art galleries, and eating brunch in the upscale gourmet restaurants.
For generations, Porter Hollow had been a sleepy little southern Utah town, nestled amid spectacular red rock scenery but largely undiscovered by the rest of the world. Buck, who’d grown up here, had come home from the army eleven years ago burning with ideas to bring the place to life and garner the town worldwide attention.
Starting small, he’d partnered with several outdoor-adventure companies to form Bucket List Enterprises. Within a few years the town had become a magnet for high-end adventure seekers. Porter Hollow offered access to four national parks, the vast waters of Lake Powell and the Tony Award–winning Utah Shakespeare Festival in nearby Cedar City. Buck’s clients could enjoy river rafting, sport fishing, hiking, biking, skydiving, four-wheeling and horseback trips into the nearby mountains. With the construction of a sprawling luxury hotel complex, featuring exclusive shops, five-star restaurants, a spa, a beauty salon and the booking office for Bucket List Adventures, Buck had forged a kingdom. As holder of a 70 percent company share, he was its absolute ruler. Even Terri could only guess how many millions of dollars he was worth.
From the main highway, Terri took a right turn onto the road that wound two miles up a vermilion-hued canyon to the gated property where Buck had built his home. She would check there first. If she failed to find him, she would start making phone calls. Buck Morgan wasn’t just her boss. The two of them went back a long way. She was genuinely concerned about him.
Growing up, Terri had known Buck as the best friend of her older brother, Steve. Buck and Steve had played football together, hunted and fished together, and double-dated the prettiest girls in school. After graduation, the two of them had joined the army and deployed in the same unit. Buck had survived Iraq and made it home without a scratch. Steve had been shot dead on patrol and come home to Porter Hollow in a flag-draped coffin. His death had devastated Terri. But Buck had tried to make sure she was all right. When, after two years of college, she’d returned home to care for her aging grandmother, he’d offered her a well-paying job as his assistant and office manager. Working side by side, her feelings for him had only grown—not that he’d ever seemed to notice. Buck had been a loyal friend to her, but it had always been clear that friendship was the only relationship he wanted with her, despite his affairs with an endless string of women.
Her grandmother’s declining health, and her loyalty to Buck, had kept Terri in Porter Hollow and with Bucket List Enterprises for the past ten years. But recently she’d begun to question her future. She was thirty years old. Did she really want to spend her life looking after a man with a weakness for sexy blondes—a man who never gave her a second look, except when he needed something done?
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have options. As Buck’s assistant, she’d gotten to know the owners of other resorts in the region. Several had expressed an interest in poaching her. Moving her grandmother shouldn’t be a problem. There had to be nice facilities in other towns—some of them better than Canyon Shadows.
She should give it some serious thought, Terri told herself as she drove up the canyon. A change of scene might be good for her. It might even help her get over the flaming crush she’d had on Buck Morgan since she was fourteen.
Pulling up to the wrought iron gate, Terri entered the code on the keypad. She felt a prickle of nervous apprehension. What would she find when she reached the house? What could explain Buck’s mysterious silence?
A symphony of stone, wood and glass, the house was set amid cliffs and massive boulders like part of the landscape. The interior featured soaring cathedral ceilings and a huge stone fireplace. Buck could easily have afforded servants, but he liked his privacy. He made do with a weekly cleaning crew from the hotel to keep the place spotless.
The place looked undisturbed. As Terri pulled into the driveway, she could see Murphy, Buck’s big rescue mutt, romping in the enclosed part of the yard. An imposing mix of rottweiler and pit bull, he was as playful and affectionate as he was scary-looking. He bounded up to the tall fence, tongue lolling and tail wagging, as she climbed out of the Jeep.
“Hello, boy.” Terri stuck her fingers through the chain links so the dog could slurp them. The dog didn’t seem upset—which he’d likely be if something was wrong. And Buck’s tan Hummer was parked outside the garage, which meant he was most likely here. But if he was here, why wasn’t he answering either of his phones?
The door swung open to a silent house. No TV. No sounds or smells from the kitchen. She checked the kitchen and dining room, the pantry, the den, and the downstairs bathroom. Aside from a single coffee cup and a spoon in the sink, there was no sign of life. The bedrooms, including Buck’s, were upstairs. Cringing inside, Terri crept up the open staircase. What if Buck was here and he had company? If she heard telltale noises coming from his bedroom, she’d be out of the house faster than a scared jackrabbit.
From the landing, she could see that the door to Buck’s room was partway open. Peeking around the door frame, she saw that the blinds were drawn, the room dim and quiet. Finally she could make out a solitary figure sprawled facedown in the rumpled king-size bed—sheets twisted around long, bare legs, a smudge of dark hair against the pillow. It was definitely Buck. But was he all right? It wasn’t like him to be in bed at this hour on a workday.
Shedding her sandals in the hall, she tiptoed into the room. She could hear the deep rasp of his breathing. At least he was alive. Edging closer, she could see his shoes and work clothes scattered on the sheepskin rug, as if he’d just peeled everything off and collapsed