Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [109]
“Or the press.” He slid her a glance and a crooked daredevil smile crossed his lips. “Want me to lose them?”
She laughed. “In this?”
He patted the dash. “What was it Han Solo said about the Millennium Falcon in Star Wars?”
“I hate to think.” She rolled her eyes.
“Something like she may not be pretty, but she can jump to hyperspace in…oh, I don’t remember the quote. Anyway, trust me, this truck can haul ass when asked.”
“Oh, right.” She couldn’t help but smile even though she was experiencing a case of nerves. Being this close to Thane was unsettling, kissing him was tempting but perilous and having someone following them bothered her. But she couldn’t let it. Not until she found out what was happening with her sister. She glanced in the rearview mirror. The Jeep was several cars back, but still in pursuit. “Let ’em follow us,” she decided. “We might just learn something from them.”
Thane’s smile was without a drop of humor. He didn’t bother to speed through the amber light, but let the Jeep lag behind them. “My thoughts exactly.”
“This is a place I stay when I’m in town,” Thane said as he wheeled into the reserved parking area of the Brass Tree, a hotel located not far from downtown. “The kicker is that our friend Syd Gillette owns it.”
“Mary Theresa’s latest husband.”
“That’s right. Ironic, I think,” Thane said without a smile.
Maggie had known that Gillette was a hotel magnate, but hadn’t paid any attention to which of the “few independent and elegant” hotels he’d owned, even though Mary Theresa had mentioned it in the short span of time she’d been married to the guy.
Thane left the truck with a valet, and liveried bellboys helped them with their bags. Built before the turn of the century, the Brass Tree’s redbrick charm rose eight stories and had once towered over the surrounding buildings. A grand hand-carved staircase, polished to a deep cherry sheen, rose off a marble-floored lobby where stained-glass windows and crystal chandeliers vied for attention. Antique chairs and lamps clustered around a three-storied fireplace in a reading room at an angle from the front desk.
Earlier in the century the Rocky Mountains had been visible from the Brass Tree; now steel and glass high-rises were the focal points of many of the old rooms. But the interior was charming, the rates not in the stratosphere, and Maggie was thankful for a place to call home for the night.
The suite she and Thane agreed upon was roomy enough, with two bedrooms flanking a central living area complete with fireplace, love seat, and couch. Complimentary brandy and chocolates were waiting on the marble-topped table.
Maggie dropped her bag onto the end of her bed, reached for the phone, and dialed her sister-in-law in California. Connie was polite but cool and informed Maggie that the girls were “out” for a while. She’d have Becca return the call when they got back. When Maggie made the mistake of asking how Becca was doing, she was frostily informed that her daughter was “having the time of her life.” Connie’s voice lost some of its sarcasm as she confided, “You know, Maggie, you didn’t do her any favors by uprooting her and taking her to the edge of nowhere.”
“Despite what you may believe, Connie, Settler’s Ridge isn’t one of the seven levels of hell. In fact it’s kind of charming, quaint, and wholesome. I like it. I like it a lot.”
“Maybe it’s just your cup of tea. You’re a loner by nature, Maggie, don’t deny it. But think of Becca. She’s only thirteen, for God’s sake. She belongs here with her friends.”
“That’s why she’s visiting.”
There was a hesitation on Connie’s part, and Maggie sensed there was something deeper going on. “I, um, I’m taking her to a specialist for her ankle.”
“Why? Is it worse?” Maggie’s guilt jumped into hyperdrive.
“No, she seems fine, but you never know. I want her to see an orthopedist—as well as Jenny’s pediatrician. She’s just skin and bones.”
“Connie, don’t overreact.”
“I’m just concerned. She’s Dean’s only child. The last of his line.”
“I know.” Oh, Lord, how I know.
“Jim and I