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  Reed turned his head toward Shelly for a moment, but she wasn’t able to read his expression before he stepped into the edge of the river and promptly yelped as if he’d shoved his bare feet into a snowdrift. He stood still for a moment with a stunned expression on his face.

  "You got in this water in March?" he asked, his teeth chattering.

  Shelly and Marianne made eye contact and burst into laughter.

  "You’ve been living in Texas too long," Marianne said as she let go of the boulder beside her and shoved herself out into the current. "You’re not as hardy as us mountain folk."

  "Wuss," Shelly said more simply as she joined Marianne in the river.

  For a few seconds, Reed stared at them as if they were insane before running over the rock-strewn shore.

  "What’s he doing?" Marianne asked.

  Shelly opened her mouth to say she had no idea when she caught the look on Reed’s face, the one that always accompanied one whale of a payback.

  "Oh, hell," she said just before he jumped into the river with his tube, splashing both her and Marianne with enough water to make them gasp.

  Shelly sputtered and wiped her face. She opened her eyes to find Reed’s tube next to hers. She narrowed her eyes at the wide, satisfied smile on his face. With not a hint of warning, she lifted one handle on his tube and dumped him back first into the river. Marianne snorted and clapped her approval. Before Reed could get his bearings, Shelly shoved her tube into the main current of the river, putting distance between herself and one cold Texan.

  By the time Reed pulled himself up onto his tube and followed Marianne into the current, Shelly had cleared the lower end of a gentle set of rapids. When Reed cleared those same rapids, she glanced over at him and smiled in triumph.

  "You’ll pay for that," he called.

  "Promises, promises."

  Though she had dreaded the outing, Shelly leaned back and allowed the sun and the gentle flow of the river to lull her near sleep. The scents of the forest—pine, rhododendron, and the ever-present moisture—tickled her nostrils. When she opened her eyes, she watched the smooth flow of the clear water around her, broken intermittently by non-threatening rapids gliding over rounded mountain rocks.

  Marianne chattered on with Reed, having forgiven him for his dousing of her. She asked about life in Texas since she’d never lived farther away than Maryville, about half an hour down the road from Bobcat Ridge. Shelly snorted a couple of times at his embellishment of life as a Dallas detective, but Reed either didn’t notice or chose to ignore her.

  Even with Marianne eyeing Reed, Shelly was having a good time. It was almost like the outings she’d had with Troy, Reed and the rest of their friends back in Dallas. Only this time, Troy wasn’t there, and she was the one alone. The thought dampened her mood more than the earlier splash had.

  If she’d had an oar, she would have set to rowing, leaving Reed and Marianne to laugh and flirt. She needed to get back to work, the constant in her life that gave her a reason to get up each day. She wasn’t mired in despair, but neither did she see some shiny future for herself. She enjoyed meeting the guests, spending time with her parents, and wandering in the mountains. Wildflower hikes and reading good books brought satisfaction. But since Troy’s death, the fabulous highs and lows of being in love had disappeared from her life.

  Reed and Marianne must have slipped into a faster current because they caught up with her. At first, she kept her eyes closed and ignored them. Just a little while longer and they’d reach the takeout point where Chris was to meet them with the van. Linda had agreed to drop him off at the van on her way over to Sugarlands to deliver an order of muffins for a park volunteer training session.

  "There’s Shelly’s place," Marianne said.

  Shelly opened her eyes and looked up the ridge to where the Firefly Run cabins towered above them. When she lowered her gaze, she found Reed watching her with a strange expression on his face, as if his mind were puzzling over some question.

  Embarrassed, she looked downriver. She first saw the Firefly Run van, then Chris leaning against the hood. He waved when he saw them, and she waved back. With some hand paddling, she maneuvered her inner tube into the faster current in front of Reed and Marianne.

  Instead of a float trip, Shelly felt as if she’d just taken a ride on a roller coaster—her emotions down, then up, then down again. She needed to get back to the office, busy herself with work for the rest of the day, then spend the evening telling herself all the reasons why she couldn’t possibly be attracted to Reed.

  But as she climbed from the river and looked back at him, she thought it was going to take some powerful convincing.

  ****

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chris and Marianne chatted back and forth between his spot in the driver’s seat and hers next to Reed in the back. All Reed could see of Shelly was the top of her head in front of him, but he knew her well enough to figure some heavy thoughts were weighing on her mind. Her reactions during their trip down the river would have told even a stranger that while she had enjoyed herself, had perhaps needed the diversion more than wanted it, troublesome thoughts had lurked below the surface waiting for their chance to reclaim her attention.

  As Chris maneuvered the van up the winding road leading to Bobcat Ridge, Reed wondered if Shelly’s worries centered solely around Eddie Victor or if she’d somehow read the attraction he felt for her, a disturbing but inescapable feeling that strengthened each time he saw her.

  He’d scolded himself a thousand times for his feelings, even wondered if he was imagining them because she was the prettiest woman in the vicinity and he’d always been comfortable around her—at least until recently. He’d tested that theory today, attempting to flirt with Marianne. Attractive in her own right, she was precisely the type of woman he’d always dated—physically attractive, talkative, fun-loving and not too demanding.

  But his efforts to focus on Marianne had failed miserably. His flirtations had come out forced and hollow, and he’d repeatedly caught himself snatching glances at Shelly when Marianne wasn’t looking. He’d stared a bit longer each time her smile faded and her eyes reflected a faraway look.

  If she’d deduced his feelings, Shelly hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe she didn’t know how to react and figured if she ignored it, the whole situation would disappear. And if somehow he were able to ensure Eddie would do her no harm, she’d be right.

  When they reached the cabins, Shelly nearly leapt from the van in her haste to reach the office. Marianne’s presence kept him from following, which was actually a good thing. What would he say if he caught her? He couldn’t very well ask if she harbored any attraction for him. At best, she’d say yes and he’d feel even guiltier than when he’d arrived. If she cared for him in that way, her sadness would be his fault, yet again. First, he’d failed to save her husband. Then he’d go home after Eddie was no longer a threat and leave her alone.

  From his selfish point of view, however, the worst response would be the possibility she didn’t feel anything more than friendship.

  "I had a good time," Marianne said, recapturing Reed’s attention.

  He looked down to find her standing a bit too close. Any man with eyes would know what that seeking look on her face and those revealing clothes meant. There had been a day when he would have closed the gap and taken her shapely figure in his arms, but Troy’s death had changed him in so many ways. His dedication to ensuring justice was served was about the only thing that hadn’t disappeared or morphed into another form.

  "Me too," he said. "It’s pretty here."

  "I’m sure Texas is nice, too."

  "It’s hot, a lot dustier." He loved Texas, but some instinct had nudged him into making his native state sound less than inviting.

  "How long are you staying?"

  "I don’t know yet," he said. So this was what it was like to be on the opposite side of the interrogation table.

  "It’s a good thing you’re doing for Shelly. S
he’s had it rough."

  "Yeah."

  "Well, if things get back to normal and you’d like to see more of the sights, let me know. I’ve lived here my whole life, so I know where all the pretty spots are, the ones that aren’t covered up with tourists."

  "I’ll keep that in mind." He knew she was hoping for an invitation to dinner or another afternoon outing, but he wasn’t willing to commit to that, not even if Eddie was no longer a concern.

  Marianne almost hid her disappointment, but not quite. Her smile quivered a bit at the edges, and her bright eyes dimmed almost imperceptibly, making him feel about as big as a gnat.

  "I’ll try to stop by your store soon," he said, not wanting to hurt her feelings even though the relationship she seemed to want would never materialize.

  Her eyes brightened at that. "Well, I’ll look forward to seeing you again."

  To her credit, she turned and walked to her car without pressing the issue further. She might be lonely, but she wasn’t needy to the point of embarrassing herself.

  He waved to her as she drove down the gravel entry road. When she passed out of sight, he turned slowly toward the office. For several seconds, he watched the screen door as if Shelly would appear there solely on the strength of his thoughts. When she didn’t, he pointed himself toward the edge of the ridge. If Shelly wanted to talk about something, she knew where to find him. With Eddie Victor still out there somewhere and her father in precarious health, she had enough emotional upheaval in her life without him adding to it.

  He seated himself on a rocky outcropping at the edge of the ridge behind his cabin. He watched the river in the valley below flow by, its glass-like surface soothing. What he’d told Marianne was true. It was beautiful here in this corner of the Appalachians. He’d never lived anywhere where the surroundings were so lush, green and fragrant. Having seen Shelly in two vastly different environs, he decided the rolling, foggy mountains suited her much more than the harsher climate of Texas.

  During their hours of digging around the old stump, Chris, who was studying biology at the University of Tennessee like Shelly had a decade before him, had related the rich biodiversity of the Smoky Mountains. Reed had difficulty telling one tree from another, but the astounding numbers of plant and animal species made Shelly’s eyes light up like a little girl’s with a big, pink-frosted birthday cake. It didn’t matter if it was a daisy or a salamander, she loved nature in all its various forms.

  A bird twittered in the trees above, a sweeter, chirpier sound than the one he’d heard while working on the cabin roof. He almost expected Shelly to step up behind him to identify the bird, but she didn’t appear.

  Would he ever hear a bird, see a river or smell a flower again without thinking of her?

  ****

  By the time night infiltrated the clearing Shelly called home, she was clad in her favorite summer pajamas and perched in front of the TV with a giant crockery bowl of popcorn and a glass of fresh lemonade. She pushed a copy of Last of the Mohicans into the DVD player and sat back to enjoy two hours of Daniel Day-Lewis at his best. Maybe staring at Daniel in long tresses and chest-baring frontier attire would push a certain modern-day detective from her mind.

  But Daniel’s Nathaniel had barely met the beautiful Cora Munro when Shelly caught her mind drifting to the smile that had played across Reed’s lips as they’d floated down the Little River. He’d flirted with Marianne, acting more like his old self than he had since he’d arrived. The memory irked her. Did he think Marianne was pretty? Was he really interested in her or just passing the time until he could go home?

  Well, if he was interested in Marianne, Shelly had no one to blame but herself. She’d suggested Marianne ask Reed to float the river. And if he hooked up with Marianne, maybe Shelly would be able to go two minutes without thinking of him.

  She let her head fall against the back of the couch and tried to sort out the days since Reed had arrived at her doorstep like some knight in shining armor ready to do battle with the dragon. Only Reed’s armor was made of Kevlar, his sword a Glock, and the dragon a cold-blooded murderer bent on revenge.

  Prior to his arrival, the last time she’d seen Reed was the final day of Eddie Victor’s trial. They’d hugged goodbye, but they’d both been in a daze, she a traumatized widow, he a grieving friend. Since she’d returned to Bobcat Ridge, she’d tried to forget her life in Texas had ever existed. And that included Reed.

  During the good years before Troy’s death, Reed had been a constant in her life, though more of a big brother than any potential romantic interest. She knew he was good looking. Who wouldn’t? But when she’d felt the first stirring of attraction after his recent arrival, it had shocked her down to her soul. Shame, denial, curiosity and embarrassment had flooded her in turns.

  Having rebuilt her life to a point where she could function, she didn’t want to remember the heart-ripping agony of losing her husband. She doubted she’d ever be able to see blood again without tossing the contents of her stomach. It wasn’t Reed’s fault the past was coming back to haunt her, but he’d been there to punish while Eddie—and Troy—hadn’t.

  The booming of cannons from the video drew her attention. Nathaniel and company were canoeing through the darkness toward the besieged Fort William Henry. She shoved popcorn into her mouth and tried to concentrate on the movie, but before the scene ended, her thoughts had veered back toward the here and now.

  When they’d returned from the river earlier in the day, she’d stalked away, determined to keep her distance from Reed, hoping that distance would dissolve the attraction. Even though her mind told her she had every right to seek love again, her heart balked at the idea.

  Besides, if she did decide one day to give love a second chance, the last person she’d seek out was another cop. Having one love die in her arms was more than enough pain to last a lifetime.

  A violent shiver shook her. No matter how long she lived, even if she married again one day, she’d never stop loving Troy or forget the helplessness and despair of her first wedding day. She’d already decided she’d never have another church wedding or a white dress. And she wasn’t giving another police officer her heart.

  She stood abruptly, nearly knocking over her glass of lemonade. After depositing the empty bowl in the sink, she wandered through the small cabin, trailing her fingers over pieces of her life—the quilt her grandmother had stitched draped over the couch, a trophy she’d won during a spelling bee in the third grade, a family portrait from her and Sean’s high school days, snapshots of field trips during college. But nothing from beyond her graduation from UT.

  After college, she’d gotten the job at the preserve in Dallas and headed off to protect the world and its wildlife. But in Texas she’d found more than a rewarding job and heat so oppressive she thought she might suffocate. She’d discovered love and figured she’d be a Texan for the rest of her life.

  When Troy died, none of the rest had seemed important. She’d needed family, time alone and her mountains in which to roam and drown her immense sorrow.

  As if drawn there, she now moved toward her bedroom closet, the sounds of the movie following her. She seated herself in the floor of the closet and started digging through boxes. She finally found the one she sought but sat with it perched on her crossed legs for several seconds. With a deep breath, she removed the lid. Everything was exactly as she remembered. The black velvet box that contained her engagement ring and wedding band, the unused champagne flutes, one of the wedding invitations on cream-colored textured paper, and a large stack of pictures of her, Troy, their families, Reed, dozens of other cops and her friends from the preserve.

  She flipped through the photos, laughing at some, her eyes tearing up at others. The people staring back at her with light and vitality in their faces almost seemed like strangers. Troy was gone, Reed was a shell of his former self, their other friends’ lives had gone on. And she...well, she had just been taking it day by day with no thought very far in the future.<
br />
  She swiped at an errant tear. Damn, she wanted to laugh and enjoy life as she had then. Nothing would ever be the same, but she didn’t have to avoid a man who’d been a dear friend, was still her friend, for fear that she might feel the tug of something deeper. Just because she felt it didn’t mean she had to act on it. She could spend time with Reed without him ever knowing and then deal with the consequences, if there were any, after he returned to Dallas.

  A pang of loss hit her at the thought of him leaving Bobcat Ridge. But if Eddie did follow common sense to a life far away from her or if he made a wrong move that would send him back to jail, that’s exactly what Reed would do. His home, his job, his life were in Texas, a place she’d never be able to live again no matter how strong she grew. Coming home had not only helped her through the worst time of her life, but she’d eventually realized the Smokies were where she’d belonged all along.

  She smiled. And based on Reed’s teasing comments about her "biology lessons," she couldn’t picture him searching the woods for bloodroot or coming face to face with a black bear. Nor could she imagine him considering pizza at Luigi’s in Bobcat Ridge followed by a pint of ice cream from Harry’s Grab-n-Go a night on the town.

  She returned the snapshots to the box, her fingers grazing the plain manila envelope in the bottom. Her hand trembled. In the weeks following Troy’s death, she’d done nothing but stare at its contents. But since she’d returned to Tennessee and shoved the box in the back corner of the closet, she’d not opened the envelope once.

  How would she react now, after all this time? The agony of widowhood had gradually dulled, leaving loneliness and regret in its place. Would the contents of the envelope spark only those emotions or a more soul-searing one?

  Only one way to find out.

  She slid the envelope free with the odd sensation that she needed to look inside, as if doing so would free a part of herself still held in the clutches of the past. She held her breath as she pulled the 8 X 10 portrait out. Troy dressed in a tux he’d hated the moment he saw it and her in a wedding gown any fairy princess would have given half her father’s kingdom to wear.