But she could never completely forget that she was the sole heir to large fortunes on both her mother’s and her father’s side. Everybody in town knew it, of course. She’d even had a couple of boyfriends who’d turned out to be nothing more than fortune hunters in the end. From them she’d learned the hard truth: when it came to men, she had to be careful. If a man seemed interested, there was always a chance that his interest was more in her money than in Katie herself.
Sometimes she wished she could be like other women, and just go for it, when it came to guys. But she had a shy streak and she had too much money, and both made her more guarded than she would have liked to be.
She kept thinking of that kiss, back in the hall, kept remembering the feel of his mouth against hers…
But really, other than that kiss, which had only been for show, he’d made no moves on her. He wasn’t even blaming her for the fact that they were stuck here for Lord knew how long.
She could have been stranded with worse, and she told herself firmly to remember that.
“Deep thoughts?” Justin asked softly.
“Not at all.” She gestured at the trays of food. “If you’ve had all you want, I think we should go ahead and put this stuff away…”
He gave her a level look. She knew what he was thinking. They could very well end up enjoying those sandwiches for breakfast. “Let’s do it.” He rose and picked up a tray and the pitcher of grape drink.
She grabbed another tray and followed him through the main display room, to the kitchen at the back.
Twenty minutes later, they had everything put away. They returned to the reception room and sat down again. They made halting conversation. He told her a little about his company, said he’d started from nothing and had “come a long way.”
“You’re based in…?”
“Bozeman.”
“Did you grow up in Montana?”
“No. I was born in California. We moved a lot. To Oregon for a while and later to Colorado, Nevada, Idaho…”
“Brothers and sisters?”
“Single mom—and she only had me. She died two years ago.”
“It must have been tough for her…”
“Yeah. It was.” He’d rested his dark head back against the knotty pine wall. He glanced her way. “We could use a television. Or at least a radio.”
Boy, could they. “We can look around for one.”
So they returned to the kitchen and went through the cabinets. Nothing but pots and pans and dishes and such. In the storage room off one of the side display rooms, where the society kept the donations they were collecting for their next rummage sale, they did find a battered old boom box.
Justin scanned the small room. “Any plugs in here?”
“Just the one in the light.” They both looked up at the bare bulb above. The cord wouldn’t stretch that far. “Why don’t we take it with us out front?”
“Fine,” he said, glancing around. “Lots of clothes in these bags…” They shared another look and she knew they were thinking along the same lines. If they didn’t get out of here soon, they could always go through the bags, maybe find something more comfortable to wear.
The idea depressed her—that they might be stuck here long enough to need a change of clothes.
“Look at it this way,” he advised gently. “We’re safe and warm. And we’ve got plenty of sandwiches.”
They took the radio out through the silent display rooms to the front. Justin plugged it in and turned the dial. Nothing but static.
Thoroughly discouraged, Katie went to the window again. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared out for a while at the steadily falling snow.
Justin spoke from behind her. “Those old beds in the center display room…”
She faced him. They shared a grim look.
He asked, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Her nod was resigned. “It does begin to look as if they’re going to get some use tonight.”
Past midnight, Justin Caldwell lay wide-awake staring at the shadowed rafters in the museum’s central room. He’d taken the narrow, hard little cot in the one-room pioneer cabin display and stretched out, fully clothed but for those damn too-small boots, under the star-patterned quilt. He’d had to pull out the sheet at the bottom of the bed. It was too short by a foot and his stocking feet hung out over the edge.
But at least the bedding was clean. Katie had told him it was all antique stuff donated by local families. The Historical Society took pains to keep it laundered and in good repair.
Katie…
He could hear her soft breathing from the “bedroom” on the opposite wall, where she lay in a wide four-poster with pineapple finials that some pioneer family had probably dragged across the plains in a covered wagon. He smiled to himself.
She was…a surprise. A quiet woman; selfcontained. With those wide honey-brown eyes, that tender mouth and the shy way she had about her, she seemed, in some ways, so young—younger than her age, which he knew was twenty-four.
Yes. Very young. And yet, at the same time, she had that self-possessed quality that made her, somehow, seem older.
He knew much more than she’d told him so far. He’d paid and paid well to learn all about her—and about Caleb, Adele and Riley Douglas, as well.
Katherine Adele Fenton was the only child of the jet-setting Paris and Darrin Fenton. She’d been born in Venice, Italy—and immediately turned over to a nanny. Into her teens, Katie hardly saw her parents. She was fourteen and living a sheltered life with a governess in London when both Paris and Darrin died tragically; their private plane crashed on the way to a society wedding.
That was where the Douglases came in. As Katie’s godmother, Adele had gone back east to claim the orphaned child of her dear college friend.
From what Justin had been able to learn, the Douglases considered Katie one of their own. She was, though not by blood, a full-fledged member of their family. She was the daughter Adele Douglas never had. Though he’d taken her into his home and treated her as family, Caleb had never made any effort to lay claim to a red cent of Katie’s considerable inheritance. And from what Justin knew of Caleb Douglas—who loved nothing so much as making big deals involving large sums of money—that was saying something.
Justin pushed back the quilt. When he returned to the hard pallet laughingly called a bed, he’d leave off the blankets. The old building’s heating system seemed to have one temperature: high. He sat and swung his legs soundlessly to the floor.
Rising, he ducked under the rope that was supposed to keep visitors away from the displays, and went to the door that led out to the reception area. It opened soundlessly and he shut it without letting the latch click.
In the men’s room off the reception area, he flicked on the light and used the urinal. At the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and avoided meeting his own eyes in the mirror.
Back in the reception area, he stood by the window. The snow was still coming down. It lay, thick and white and sparkling, covering the steps up to porch level.
If it kept up like this, they could be stuck here for a day or two. Maybe longer. Who the hell knew?
Lots of time alone, just him and Katie…
Though he generally preferred a more outgoing, sophisticated type of woman, he was drawn to her. In the end, he supposed, there