Читать книгу The Mighty Quinns: Cameron - Kate Hoffmann - Страница 8

THE BUS STOPPED in front of a worn-down café, a neon beer sign in the window flickering with the only color Cameron Quinn had seen in the past two hundred miles. “Home-cooked meals,” he murmured as he stared at the sign. At least Vulture Creek, New Mexico, had one thing going for it. From what he’d seen so far, the place was a dusty crossroad, somewhere on the way to Albuquerque.

He grabbed his leather duffel from the rack above his head and walked to the front of the bus, the aisle clear. None of the other passengers had chosen this destination, and after seeing the town out the window, he figured they could count themselves lucky. They were obviously on their way to more glamorous locations, like Santa Fe and Amarillo and Tulsa. A few passengers were even headed to Roswell to take in the “alien” experience.

Cameron knew exactly how those aliens felt, dropping down into a barren, almost lifeless world. He’d come from Seattle, where it rained almost every day of the year and where green, not brown, was the predominant color. He stepped off the bus and squinted up at the turquoise sky, shading his eyes with his hand. It was the only sight that assured him he was still on planet Earth.

Moments later, the bus pulled away in a cloud of dust and diesel fumes. This would be home for the next six weeks, this desolate spot that looked more like the surface of the moon than a habitable location.

Why had his grandfather picked Vulture Creek? The name alone was enough to scare away most people. The challenge had been simple—in theory. His grandfather had sent his four grandsons to strange corners of the country on a quest of sorts—a quest to find out who they really were and where they belonged. Dermot was somewhere in Wisconsin, Kieran in Tennessee, Ronan in Maine, and Cameron, the eldest of the four, was banished to the middle of nowhere.

For six weeks, they were supposed carve out an existence for themselves, away from the family business and familiar surroundings. In theory, he understood his grandfather’s motives. He and his brothers had worked for the family business, Quinn Yachtworks, since shortly after their parents went missing, pitching in to do anything to make the business succeed. There hadn’t really been a choice in the matter; they’d just done it to repay their grandfather for taking them in and to stave off the grief that hung over the family like a dark cloud.

But now it was time to decide the fate of the successful company they’d helped build. An attractive offer to buy the business had come along from an interested party, and Martin Quinn had a decision to make—leave the business to his grandsons or sell and retire in luxury.

Cameron had never really thought twice about what he did for a living. He’d felt obligated to work at the family business, and he enjoyed his position as head of the design team. It suited his artistic inclinations and paid well—and it was interesting work.

It also suited his personality. He liked the solitary pursuit of the perfect design. He was in control; he made the decisions. It was a quiet life, a controlled life and one that he’d grown quite accustomed to. There were never any surprises.

So it wasn’t any wonder he thought this “vacation” was an exercise in futility. Cameron knew exactly where he belonged and what he was meant to do. He knew it from the moment he became head of his family, from the day his parents had officially been proclaimed dead. It had been his responsibility to watch over his younger brothers, to make their life with their grandfather work.

Sure, he’d had other dreams. When he was a kid, he’d wanted to become a paleontologist, like the hero in Jurassic Park. He’d fantasized about exotic locations and complicated digs, of discoveries that would turn history upside down. But he put those dreams aside for the greater good of his family.

According to their grandfather’s plan, after six weeks, he and his brothers were to return home. If they wanted to make a commitment to the company, they could. If they wanted to carve out a new life somewhere else, then all would be well. If they all chose a different life, then they’d share in the profits from the sale and build something new for themselves.

He crossed the street to the diner. He’d have a decent meal, check out the town and then buy a bus ticket for the nearest civilized city. After all, Vulture Creek was neither a hotbed of employment opportunities nor a glamorous vacation destination. Surely his grandfather didn’t expect him to live here for six weeks. He’d bide his time someplace more comfortable.

As he opened the door of the diner, a pickup truck slowly passed by. From beneath the brim of a battered cowboy hat, the driver watched Cameron with a suspicious glare. Cameron gave him a nod, but the man didn’t acknowledge the greeting. “Hospitable place,” he muttered to himself.

A bell above the door rang as Cameron entered the café. Fans hung from the high ceilings, turning slowly yet doing nothing to freshen the air. A small crowd of people was gathered around tables near the window, the remains of their breakfast still scattered in front of them. They were laughing and arguing, but Cameron ignored them and sat down at the empty counter. He glanced to the back of the diner and saw a woman sitting in a booth near the door to the kitchen, talking on her cell phone.

He relaxed on the stool and grabbed a menu, studying the prices. He had about six dollars left in cash and a pocketful of change. But his grandfather had given them all a company credit card to use, as well. He’d pull that out for lunch and then find a cheap motel room with a hot shower and a soft bed.

A middle-aged woman stepped through the swinging door, a coffeepot in her hand. She strolled up to him and set a cup in front of him. Her blue blouse was embroidered with her name—Millie. “Coffee?”

Cameron shook his head. It was too hot to drink coffee. “Ice water,” he said. “The biggest glass you have.”

“Breakfast specials are Denver omelet, blueberry waffles, and steak and eggs,” she said, observing him with a keen eye. “Lunch specials are pork enchiladas and a meat-loaf plate. We also have chicken-dumpling soup and grasshopper pie made fresh this morning. What can I get you?”

Cameron glanced at the clock above the counter. Though it was only eleven, he really didn’t feel much like breakfast. “I’ll have the meat loaf,” Cameron said. “With fries. And the soup. Do you have beer on tap?”

“Just bottles.”

“Give me a bottle of your best. And you take credit cards?”

“MasterCard and Visa,” she said.

She returned with his beer and poured it into a glass mug that looked like a cowboy boot. Cameron took a long, slow sip of it. He glanced over at the booth and silently observed the woman he’d noticed earlier. His breath caught in his throat as she turned slightly, and he coughed, the beer going down his windpipe.

Her battered straw cowboy hat had hidden her features, but she’d tipped her chin up to reveal a stunning profile. He found himself staring at her mouth as she spoke. She was younger than he’d originally thought, in her mid-twenties. And there was something different about her, something slightly exotic. His mind drifted as he thought about that mouth, the lush lips, wondering if the rest of her body was as tantalizingly sexy.

When she hung up the phone, he turned his attention back to his beer, watching her in the reflection of the mirror behind the counter. He held his breath, waiting for her to move. But when he noticed a distinct limp in her gait, he glanced back down at his beer, uneasy with his reaction to her handicap.

Though he felt sorry for her, nothing as insignificant as a limp could erase the image of perfection he found when he considered her beautiful features and her slender body. To his surprise, she sat down a few seats away and dropped her cowboy hat on the counter.

“Millie, I’m gonna grab myself a coffee,” she called toward the kitchen door, tucking a strand of raven hair behind her ear. She circled around the end of the counter and picked up a cup, then filled it from the pot.

God, she was beautiful, Cameron mused. This was the last place on earth he expected to find an interesting woman, and this one elicited more curiosity in him than any woman he’d seen in the past five years. She was clad in faded jeans and a baggy chambray shirt, not the typical fashions for the women he usually lusted after. Dusty cowboy boots completed the look.

She took a sip of her coffee, staring straight ahead. Cameron grabbed the opportunity to take in the details of her face. High cheekbones and dark eyes betrayed a Native American heritage, but there was something else there, something that softened her stunning features just a bit.

“Is it considered polite to stare at people where you come from?” she asked, her gaze still fixed on the coffeepot. She slowly turned and gave him a cool look, her raven eyebrow raised quizzically.

“Sorry,” Cameron murmured. “I’ve just been stuck on a bus for the past few days with nothing interesting to look at.” He chuckled softly. “And you’re the absolute last thing I thought I’d see in this place.”

“And what exactly am I?”

“Interesting,” he murmured. Cameron took another sip of his beer. “Sorry. I’ll keep my eyes to myself.”

She turned away, as if embarrassed by the compliment. “You have been on a bus too long,” she said.

“I have.”

A long silence grew between them as they both stared straight ahead, enjoying their drinks.

“What are you doing in Vulture Creek?” she asked.

“It’s a long story.”

“Where are you from?”

“Seattle,” he said. “Washington.”

“I know where Seattle is,” she said with a smile.

“Of course you do,” he said. For someone who didn’t want to be noticed, she sure was trying awfully hard to strike up a conversation. Cameron had never been an expert at small talk, but just this once, it might be nice to make an effort. “Do you live around here?”

She seemed to be understandably suspicious of him. “Around,” she replied.

“That’s a little vague,” he said. “Around here? Around New Mexico? Around the Southwest?”

“Albuquerque,” she said.

“And what are you doing in Vulture Creek?” he asked.

She smiled. “It’s a long story.”

Cameron chuckled softly. “Well, that does it, then. I’ve found someone who is worse at small talk than I am. Maybe we should just stop talking altogether before we bore each other to death.”

She shrugged. “Fine by me. You’re the one who started the conversation.”

“Actually, you were the first one to speak, as I recall. I was just staring.”

“Well, I’m done speaking. Starting now.”

Millie appeared a few minutes later with Cameron’s lunch. She set the plate in front of him, then nodded toward his empty mug. “Another beer?”

“Sure,” Cameron said as he dug into his meal.

Millie turned to the woman sitting next to him. “What can I get for you, Sofie? Breakfast or lunch?”

“The meat loaf is good,” Cameron said between bites. Sofie. Was that short for Sofia? The name suited her, he thought to himself. Sofia, the dark, exotic beauty with the lush mouth and the sparkling eyes.

“I’ll have a grilled-cheese and a cup of soup,” Sofie said.

“Can I get you anything else?” Millie asked Cameron.

“A job. Do you know of anyone who’s looking to hire? I need work. And a place to stay.”

She nodded toward the group sitting at the tables near the front of the diner. “You could talk to the professor over there,” she said. “He has a dinosaur dig out in the desert. They’re always looking for help.”

Cameron gasped. “Really. A dig?” He shook his head in disbelief. Was this why his grand father had sent him to Vulture Creek? Did he know about the dig?

“They don’t pay,” Sofie said. “Other than meals. They’re looking for volunteers.”

“Aren’t you looking for someone, Sofie?” Millie asked.

“No,” Sofie said.

“Sure you are. You mentioned it yesterday. I distinctly remember you saying you didn’t have enough eyes or ears to cover all the ground you needed to. I do believe those were your words.”

“What kind of work do you do?” Cameron asked.

“She’s a private investigator,” Millie said. “Working on a big case.” The waitress wandered back to the kitchen, leaving Sofie and Cameron with another uncomfortable silence.

Cameron sighed softly. Though the dinosaur dig was intriguing, he’d have to find a way to make some real money. And if Sofie, the private investigator, had a job, then he ought to explore that option. Who knew if there would even be other opportunities in Vulture Creek?

“So do you or don’t you have a job you’re looking to fill?”

Millie set a cup of soup in front of Sofie. “Maybe you ought to interview him. He looks like a clever young man.” She winked at Cameron. “Careful, now. If you have any secrets, she’ll find a way to get them out of you.”

Cameron stifled a smile. Actually, that sounded like a lot of fun. Though he wasn’t much of a conversationalist, he was enjoying the back-and-forth with Sofie. Beneath that cool, composed exterior, Cameron suspected there was a fiery, passionate woman. He was curious to catch a glimpse of that side of her.

“Why are you here?” Sofie asked.

Cameron wiped his hands with his napkin and swallowed the mouthful of meat loaf. “I’m here because my grandfather sent me here. I’m supposed to take the next six weeks to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

“Why would you need to do that?”

“My grandfather owns the family business. I work there. He needs to make some decisions about the future of that business. He wants us all to be sure of where we want to be.”

“All?”

“Me and my three brothers. We all work for the company.”

“What do you do? I mean, for a job?” she replied.

“I design sailing yachts,” he said.

Sofie laughed and nodded to Millie. “Well, we have a lot of sailing yachts here in the desert,” she said. “I really don’t think I have—”

“Sofie,” Cameron said.

She stopped talking and watched him warily. “Yes?”

“I’m a smart guy. I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever you send my way. Why don’t you give me a chance? If it doesn’t work out, you can fire me.”

“What’s your name?” she finally asked.

He held out his hand. “Cameron Quinn. Most people call me Cam.”

Reluctantly, she shook his hand. “Sofia Reyes,” she said softly. “Most people call me Sofie.”

The moment he touched her, the sensation of her skin against his sent a flood of warmth racing through his veins. He didn’t want to let her hand go, but forced himself. “Now that we’ve met, you have to let me buy you lunch,” Cameron said. “You can tell me all about the virtues of Vulture Creek.”

“That would be a very short lunch. More like a snack.”

“Go ahead,” Millie urged. “Let the man buy you lunch.”

He felt a small measure of satisfaction when she nodded in agreement. Though he hadn’t held out much hope of finding anything of interest in Vulture Creek when he stepped off the bus, his prospects were getting better with every minute that passed. Sofie Reyes. Even her name was sexy.

SOFIE SIGHED SOFTLY as she took her first bite of Millie’s banana-cream pie. She’d been hanging around Vulture Creek for the past few weeks, and a slice of Millie’s homemade pie had become a daily ritual for her.

“I think pie is just about the perfect food,” Sofie said, emphasizing her statement with her fork. “You can eat it for breakfast, lunch or dinner. And it’s good for a snack, too.”

“I think you might be right,” Cameron replied, digging into the apple pie he’d ordered after his own meal.

The conversation was easy between them, which Sofie found odd. She usually wasn’t very comfortable around charming men, especially men she didn’t know. Her instincts usually tended to have her second-guessing everything that was said, looking for ulterior motives and hidden meanings. It was the side effects of working as a private investigator, she knew. Everyone she met was guilty of something.

But this man, this Cameron Quinn, should have set off all her alarms. His reasons for being in Vulture Creek were cloudy at best. His wardrobe was more suited to a man who drove an expensive European sports car than a guy who took the Greyhound. And yet she couldn’t help but be attracted.

In truth, she did need help. It had become almost impossible to cover all her bases with the case she was working, especially when she had to provide round-the-clock surveillance. And as a woman, she was more conspicuous in a small town like Vulture Creek. For whatever reason, people noticed her and they remembered her.

The sooner she wrapped up this case, the better, and if Cameron Quinn could help, who was she to refuse? She’d been chasing cheating husbands and deadbeat dads for almost six months, and it was wearing on her nerves. As soon as she was physically able, she’d be back on the job with the Albuquerque Police Department, back doing the job she was meant to do.

Sofie drew a deep breath. It had been two years since the accident, two years of recovery that seemed to progress an inch at a time. As much as she didn’t want to face it, she knew the reality of her situation.

She might not make it back. She might never be able to pass the physical again. All she’d be left with was a hip that ached in the cold and a limp that made her the object of either pity or curiosity. Though she might be considered attractive, she was still damaged.

Most men never saw beyond the imperfection. Hell, she couldn’t get beyond it herself most days. But sitting here, talking to Cameron, she could almost forget the flaw. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if she was the most fascinating woman he’d ever set eyes upon. And Sofie hadn’t felt that way in a very long time. Not since the “incident.”

Sofie came from a family of law-enforcement officers. Her father was a cop in Albuquerque, and each of her five brothers worked in criminal justice. So it was only natural that Sofie, the youngest in the family, had set her sights on the same career.

She’d begun work with the Albuquerque P.D. the year she graduated from college, and it had been a dream job. She’d worked her way up through the ranks and was undercover in Narcotics by the time she was twenty-six. Her team was in the midst of a major trafficking case when she got caught in a turf war between two rival drug gangs.

Sofie had known the dangers, but they’d been so close to making their case. She hadn’t listened to her instincts or her superiors, believing that she could handle whatever came her way. But a speeding car and a half-crazed driver put her safety in someone else’s hands. And the resulting crash had put her in intensive care for three months.

“You want another piece of pie?”

Sofie blinked, then glanced up from her empty plate. “What?”

“Pie,” Cam said. “The way you were looking, I was thinking you might just eat the plate.” He turned and searched for Millie. “Can we get another slice of the banana-cream pie?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’ll have a piece of that banana-cream pie, please.”

He sent her a smile, and Sofie felt a shiver skitter through her. Was she just imagining it, or was there an attraction between them? Sofie felt it, but was it mutual, or was it merely wishful thinking on her part?

Just because they’d indulged in a little casual flirting over lunch didn’t mean that he was ready to pull her into his arms and ravish her. Cameron seemed like the kind of guy who kept a pretty tight leash on his desires.

Besides, if she decided against hiring him, he’d probably be on a bus out of Vulture Creek before she could find something else to like about him, rolling down the road like a tumbleweed in a dust storm.

Millie wandered over with the coffeepot and another slice of pie. She filled their cups, then slipped the check onto the counter beside Cameron. He pulled out his wallet and handed her a credit card, then turned back to Sofie. She reached into her back pocket for money, but Cameron brushed her hand aside. “It’s on me,” he said.

“That’s not necessary. I can—”

“No, I want to.” He paused. “I was thinking maybe you might be able to help me find a place to stay here in town. Maybe show me around?”

She wanted to say yes, to imagine that this day might go on a little longer. But she did have work to do. “Sure,” she said. “I have some time.” Work could wait a few hours.

As he finished up his dessert, Millie returned, a scowl on her face. She handed Cameron his credit card. “It wouldn’t go through,” she said. “There was a flag on the account for me to call, and they said to take away the card.”

“What?” Cameron grabbed the card and stared at it. “But it’s my—” He cursed softly, then chuckled. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

Sofie quickly stood. “What’s going on?”

“My grandfather is making sure that I stay in Vulture Creek,” he said, waving the card. He pulled out his wallet and riffled through the bills. “I have six dollars left. How the hell can I—”

“You need a job, son,” Millie said.

“Yeah. And the sooner the better. All right, first things first. I need to pay for lunch.”

“I’ve got some dishes piled up,” Millie said. “And those windows out front need washing. That should about cover it.”

“I can do that,” Cameron agreed. “I’ll start with the dishes. And maybe, if you’ve got something else I can do, I can build up a credit.”

Sofie stood, then reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out the wad of cash. A guy willing to wash dishes in a diner to pay his bill couldn’t be all bad, could he? She peeled off enough to cover the lunch and a tip for Millie. “That should take care of it,” she said. “You can pay me back later,” she said to Cameron. “Come on.”

Turning on her heel, she headed to the door. Everything inside her told her that this guy wasn’t what he said he was. But at the same time, he seemed nice enough. She’d just maintain her distance until she was sure. She glanced over her shoulder to find him standing there. “You’re hired.”

He picked up his bag and ran after her, pushing the door open for her. “Thanks,” he said. “Hey, you can take the lunch out of my first day’s pay.” He paused. “You are going to pay me, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m going to need a place to stay.”

“We’ll figure that out later,” she said.

“I’d kind of like to get it figured out now,” he said. “I’ve only got six dollars to my name.”

“Sheriff Wendall lets people sleep in the jail when it’s not occupied. But I think I can find you a place to bed down.”

“Great,” he said. He held out the six dollars and she waved him off.

“But before you start work for me, I have to do a background check,” she said, putting her straw hat back on her head. She stood in front of him, her hands hitched on her waist, observing him shrewdly. “Is there anything in your past that you’d like to confess to right now? Because, I guarantee, by the end of the day, I’ll know everything about you.”

“A background check? What do you want to know?”

Sofie stared at him for a long moment. In truth, she wanted to know what it felt like to kiss him. She wanted to know whether he tasted half as good as he looked. She wanted to know what his naked body looked like beneath those fancy clothes and what it would take for her to get him out of his clothes and into her bed. And she—

“I don’t have any secrets,” he said.

She blinked, startled out of her daydream. Sofie cleared her throat. “How old are you? Where were you born? What do your parents do?”

“I’ll be thirty in two months, I was born in Seattle, and my parents died when I was a kid. At least I think they’re dead.”

Sofie saw the look that crossed his face, a mix of resignation and pain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up—”

“That’s all right,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t mind talking about it.”

“You said you thought they were dead. Don’t you know for sure?” She sucked in a sharp breath. Though her first instinct was to interrogate, she realized that there was a polite limit to her questions. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

“They disappeared while ferrying a yacht across the Pacific. We don’t know if they were lost in a storm and sank or drowned or what happened. One day they were there, and the next day, they’d disappeared. What about your folks? Are they alive?”

Sofie regretted questioning him in such a businesslike manner, but she wasn’t about to drive out into the desert with a guy she couldn’t trust. “My father is a cop. And my mother is an artist. They live in Albuquerque, where my mother has a gallery.”

“And how old are you?”

“I’m asking the questions,” she said.

“You’re quite good at this,” he said. “You’re making me kind of nervous.”

“I’ve had training. Do you have a photo ID with you?”

Cameron pulled out his wallet and handed her his Washington state driver’s license. Sofie groaned inwardly. He even managed to look gorgeous on his license photo. This man was just too good to be true.

“Anything else you’d like to know?”

She shook her head. “I guess that will do for now.” She gave him back his license.

“Good.”

Sofie pointed to a battered Jeep sitting a short walk down the main street. When they reached it, Cameron tossed his bag in the backseat and hopped it. The Jeep had no doors, so he fastened his seat belt and braced his feet against the floor.

Sofie slid into the driver’s side and grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the dash. “We’re going to need to get you a proper hat,” she said.

“Like yours?”

She grinned, then took her hat off and placed it on his head. “Yeah, just like mine,” she said, turning the key in the ignition. “It’s a good look on you.”

Sofie made a wide U-turn and headed east out of town. Though her thoughts still strayed into fantasy-land when she looked at the handsome stranger sitting beside her, at least she had a reason to keep him close by. She needed an extra set of eyes and ears to investigate the case she was working on. And with his looks and charm, he’d be the perfect undercover investigator.