A Proposal Worth Waiting For: The Heir's Proposal / A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal / His Proposal, Their Forever

“Yes.”

They’d reached the porch and slowly took the steps, one at a time, until they were in front of the door.

“How did you find out?” she asked, turning to face him again.

His face took on a hooded look and he shoved his hands down into the pockets of his jacket. “I’ve got some friends in law enforcement. I made a few calls.”

She looked at him, tilting her head. Was that a subtle hint that she and Carl had better watch their steps?

“What did your sources have to say about me?” she asked tartly.

He started to grin, then cut it short. “I’ll let you know when I get the full report.”

She reacted badly. That wasn’t something she had wanted to hear. “You see this face?” she asked him, pointing at it. “Once again, this isn’t adoring reverence for you. This is what we call anger. Anger and resentment and...”

His kiss stopped her words. He couldn’t help it. It had to be done. Right now, she needed to be kissed, and he was the man to do it.

It was just a kiss. A kiss wasn’t a surrender. It didn’t mean he believed her. It didn’t have anything to do with guilt or innocence. It was just an expression of desire, or maybe need, or maybe something even deeper. But that hardly mattered at all. It just was.

She gasped, her hands rising up to push him away, but they didn’t try very hard. His mouth was hot and his arms were strong and she began to melt. And just as she began to enjoy it, he pulled away.

“Good night, Torie Sands,” he said roughly, hunching deeper into his jacket. “Go to bed.”

She felt slightly dizzy. “Where...where are you going?”

“I think I’ll just take one more turn around the area. See what’s shakin’.” He gave her a quick grin as he turned to go. “See you tomorrow. Breakfast is at nine.”

CHAPTER SIX

BREAKFAST was served on a wicker table on the terrace overlooking a clear blue ocean beneath a clear blue sky. It was a beautiful morning. Just what any real estate agent would have ordered if such a thing were possible.

Torie slipped into a chair beside Carl. He looked dreadful, like a man with a serious hangover.

“What’s the verdict?” she murmured to him as she reached for a small glass of orange juice that was perched tantalizingly on a silver tray.

“The verdict?” he responded sharply, jumping as though the word startled him.

She looked at him impatiently. “What do you think of Shangri-La? Are you going to buy the place?”

“Buy the...? Oh, uh...” He moved restlessly in his chair. “I haven’t seen enough yet,” he muttered. Then he seemed to remember who she was and he frowned at her fiercely. “And you haven’t been much help. You keep disappearing.”

“You were the one disappearing last night,” she said. “What were you looking for out there in the dark?”

He glared at her, then leaned closer to talk without being heard by others. “Look, way back when we first started talking about this, you told me you used to go with old man Huntington on his rock-hunting trips around the estate. Didn’t you?”

She nodded carefully, wondering where he was going with this.

“And I asked you to draw up a map of all those places you used to go with him. His favorites. Didn’t I?”

“Sure.”

He glared. “You didn’t put the caves on that map.”

The caves. She should have known it would come back to the caves.

“Yes I did. I sketched in where they are along the coast.”

“Vaguely. No detail. And when I went out there, I realized there was no way I was going to be able to search them.” His nostrils flared. “They’re like a maze. It must take forever to know where all the hiding places are in those caves. You didn’t give me a clue.”

She stared at him, wondering at the intensity she was seeing in his face. “You know Carl, maybe if you told me what you’re looking for, I could help you better.”

She stared at him. He stared back.

Come on, Carl, she thought silently. Tell me you think you’re going to find the Don Carlos Treasure. Admit it. Let’s get it out in the open.

He took a deep breath, his eyes smoldering with anger. She almost thought he’d heard what her mind was thinking.

“Just make a map of the caves,” he said. “That’s all I ask.”

She smiled and waved as Lyla called out a good-morning greeting, walking out toward the edge of the terrace. Her smile faded as she realized where Lyla was headed. Marc was sitting on the broad stone wall, dangling his legs over the side. Lyla laughed as she kicked off her stiletto heels and prepared to join him.

Torie turned back to the man beside her, feeling a bit more grumpy than she had seconds before.

“Carl, I was a kid when I knew the caves that well. That was fifteen years ago. Do you really expect me to remember...?”

He leaned so close his hot, thick breath was on her cheek. “What were you doing down there yesterday?” he demanded. “What’s in those caves?”

“Nothing,” she said back, recoiling and frowning at him. “That isn’t the only place I went. I walked up and down the beach, remembering things from my childhood and just enjoying seeing it all again. I walked past the boathouse and went into the canyon to the little redwood forest.”

“Redwood forest? What redwood forest?” He pulled out the map and curled it open at one end. “You didn’t put any redwood forest on here.”

“I guess I forgot it,” she said coolly. She’d had about enough of Carl and she welcomed the chance to throw him off the scent of the caves. “Here, let me fix that.” She snatched up the map and opened it to the coast area, grabbing a pen and quickly drawing in a tree where the canyon should be. “There it is.” She handed the map back to him. “Have yourself a ball,” she told him caustically.

She started to gather her things with every intention of leaving Carl and going over to the stone wall to see what Marc and Lyla were doing, but it occurred to her that she ought to warn him.

She turned and looked at him, wondering how she could have let herself pretend this man was sane and safe. Anyone could have seen he was nothing but trouble—ugly trouble. And now she was stuck with him. She sighed, but resigned herself to a duty warning.

“You heard about the Greeks?”

“No.” He glanced around and didn’t see them. “What?”

“It appears they were not what they seemed.” She gave a little cough of a laugh. “Just like us. Funny, no?”

He looked uneasy. “What are you talking about?”

She leaned close and spoke softly. “Marc has connections with local authorities. They have connections with the feds. He asked for a background check and got one. The Greeks are not even Greek, and they are out on their ears.”

He stared. “Are you kidding me?”

She shrugged. “Would I kid about a thing like that?”

He rose, shoving his plate aside. “I’ve got to get out of here.” He glanced at his watch. “Okay, I’ll be back.” He looked up and jabbed a finger in her direction. “And I want you to be available at noon.” He glared at her fiercely. “You’re going to lead me through the caves.”

She swallowed hard. Something about his obvious burning anger was beginning to put her on edge. “I told Marge I would join the group in a hike along the cliff after breakfast. I don’t know if we’ll be back in time to...”

“Be back,” he said coldly, almost snarling at her, his eyes suddenly looking very bloodshot. Reaching out, he gripped her upper arm painfully. “I’m going to need you. Understand?”

“Okay,” she said a bit breathlessly. “Okay. Take it easy. I’ll be here.”

He nodded, obviously trying to get a grip on his emotions. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.” And then he turned away, walking quickly in the direction of the stairs and toward the rocky shoreline.

She rubbed her arm, watching him go. The man was beginning to scare her. She turned, planning to go to where Marc was, but he was gone. Lyla sat alone, swinging her legs over the side, and that was not an inviting scenario. Torie turned back toward the house. It was probably time to get ready for the hike.

* * *

An hour later, the hike was in full swing. Their little group was straggling toward the cliffs about half a mile from the house. Torie was walking behind Frank and Phoebe and wishing she knew where Marc had gone. She was on edge and conflicted and not sure what to do next.

She regretted allying herself with Carl. He was obviously some sort of underhanded crook, and she didn’t want to be associated with him any longer. She knew it looked bad, that it made her look less than honest herself. What did Marc think? She was afraid she might just know.

Marc had been her crush from the time she was about ten years old. He’d never looked twice at her, except for various, vague incidents in their past. But on the whole, he didn’t know she existed most of the time. But she certainly knew about him.

She’d watched him grow from a gawky but adorable teenager to a slender willow of a young man, strong and sharp, smart and quick, brave but restless. He’d gone off to join the military because he needed something in his life, needed to do something, be somebody. She’d only been fifteen the last time she’d seen him, but she’d known what he wanted to do and she’d understood his hunger for life. She’d felt a bit of an echo of it in her own heart at the time.

And now he’d come home, thicker, stronger, more wary of life and its challenges. He’d been through some things out there in the world, things he wasn’t going to talk about. You could see it in his eyes. He didn’t seem to trust anyone or anything anymore. It made you wonder what he’d seen, what had been done to him, what he’d had to do to others that he might regret. He was a man.

And when he’d kissed her, he’d been her dream come true. She’d gone up to her room and slipped into her bed and stared at the ceiling, and gone over it—feeling his mouth on hers again, catching her breath in a gasp of sensual excitement like she’d never felt before.

No. Sorry, world. Those embers were not dead after all. The smoldering excitement of Marc was very much alive in her heart and soul, and she knew it would be hard to smother it at this point. Hard—or maybe darn near impossible.

She shook herself to get rid of the dream and forced her focus back on the hike. Marge was calling out instructions.

“If you keep a sharp eye out, you may just catch sight of sea otters hanging around that black rock you see there in the bay,” she was calling back to everyone. “And up the beach a bit, you’ll see sea lions basking in the morning sun.”

Their group consisted of Phoebe and Frank, Lyla and the Texan and Torie herself. And, of course, Marge, their fearless leader.

It was a beautiful morning but Torie couldn’t conjure up much interest in the scenery. She was wondering what Carl was getting into and if Marc was there to stop him. She should be there, too. What was she doing going on a nature hike when time was racing, running away from her? She needed to get back to the project at hand.

Last night hadn’t done her much good, but it had clarified a few issues. She knew now that Carl wasn’t interested in buying Shangri-La, never had been. What she didn’t know was what he was after. Something, that was for sure. And he seemed pretty crazed about getting to his goal.

One of the first things she planned to do was to see if she could find some of the old employees, someone who might remember her father. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. But surely someone knew someone. In order to get to a position to make any headway, she would have to get friendly with an employee.

The Greeks were crooks and they were gone. The Texan wanted to find evidence of gold-mine potential on the property. Marge wanted to get enough money to head for the Bahamas—maybe with Jimmy in tow. So what about Phoebe and Frank? Maybe they actually wanted to buy the property. Who knew?

Marc didn’t want his ancestral home sold out from under him. Torie could understand that. And he didn’t trust her, but he didn’t hate her either. Would that change? Would he start to hate her once he knew....knew about the little bag of Spanish gold doubloons she had hidden in the lining of her suitcase? She shuddered and closed her eyes, stricken and breathless just thinking about it. She had to find the truth—find it before anyone found those doubloons.

The sea lions came into view. Barking nastily, they flopped their huge bodies on the warm sand and threatened each other with dire warnings of terrible sea-lion battles to come. The little tour gathered around the edge of the cliff and stared down at them, fascinated. There was nothing cuddly about these beasts.

“Take pictures,” Marge advised. “But don’t try to go down and get close to them. They’re not friendly and just might hurt you if they get mad enough.”

Lyla came to stand next to Torie as they watched the noisy animals complain about their lot in life.

“They remind me of some ladies I lunch with,” Lyla said with a laugh. “Never happy.” She turned to look at Torie. “So, are you and Carl ready to make a bid on this place?”

Torie laughed. That seemed so far from her reality now. “Not yet, I’m afraid. How about you?”

Lyla sighed. “I do love it.” She arched one carefully painted eyebrow. “Now if the son came as part of the estate, I might do some serious thinking about it.”

“You mean Marc?” Torie said, stunned at the thought. “I doubt he’s for sale.”

“Oh no, honey.” Lyla was the one laughing now. “Everybody’s for sale. You just have to find the right price.”

She was still laughing as she started toward the other side of the area, as though she found Torie immensely naive and it really amused her. Torie bit her lower lip to keep from saying something mean, but the encounter didn’t improve her mood.

The incessant barking of the seals was setting her nerves on edge. She turned away from the cliff, shading her eyes and looking back toward the house. As though summoned by her impatience, a large horse appeared, coming toward them.

She stood where she was, transfixed, staring at the approaching animal. And then it got close enough to make out the identity of the rider. Marc, of course.

Marc. She felt as though there was something glowing inside her. She knew he was coming for her. She stood where she was and waited.

“Oh look,” Lyla cried, noticing him too and beginning to wave. “Marc’s got a horse. Oh, I love riding! Marc! Over here!”

As he rode closer, his mother started yelling at him, but he didn’t pay any attention to her. The horse was big and black, a beautiful mare, and he reined her in as he came near, making her walk softly up to where Torie was waiting.

She resisted the temptation to give Lyla a smile, but she had one for Marc.

“Come on,” he said, leaning down and reaching for her hand. “I want to take you to the village. There’s someone there you’re going to want to talk to.”

She reached up to meet him and he pulled her up in front of him, effortlessly. She slipped into place with hardly a wasted move. Marge was still yelling. She looked back and smiled at them all. And then they were off.

They rode along the edge of the cliff, the blue ocean on one side, the stand of tall, green eucalyptus trees on the other. Torie felt glorious. The wind was in her hair, Marc’s hard, strong arm was around her, holding her in place, and the large, wonderful horse was beneath them. The whole scene was magical and she knew she would never forget it. If nothing else, she would always have this.

When she saw the village ahead, she knew the magic would be fading, and she regretted it. If only they could always ride like this...on and on and into the night. This felt like something she’d been born for.

She leaned back and his face was there, near her ear.

“You want to go down by the beach before we go to the village?” he asked her.

She sighed and nodded. “Yes,” she told him. “Let’s do it.”

There was a dirt road down the hill and then a paved road that came in and led to a boat-launching area. The beach was deserted. Sea gulls dove at them, then retreated to a nearby buoy to call at them from a safe distance.

She slid down off the horse and he swung down after her. They stood side by side, staring out to where the waves crashed outside the breakwater.

“Why is the movement of water so mesmerizing?” she asked him.

“I don’t know.” He turned to look at her, eyes hooded. “Maybe something in us wants to return to the sea.”

There was a sense of danger in his gaze that disturbed her and she looked back toward the water.

“When I was a little girl,” she told him after a moment of silence, “I loved The Little Mermaid movie. I would wander around, leaning against the furniture and looking lovesick, singing the Ariel song until everyone around me went mad with it.” She laughed softly, remembering. “They were threatening to tape my mouth shut if I didn’t cease and desist.”

He grinned, looking at her sideways. He remembered hearing her singing in the old days. That must have been why she’d sounded so familiar when she’d sung in the fog. “Don’t tell me you actually caved in.”

She gave him a look of pure cheek. “What? You think I’m a complete narcissist?”

“No. I think you’re stubborn as hell though.”

She laughed and turned toward him, but he was frowning as he studied her face. “You know, I’m starting to remember more about you,” he said. “You were around more than I remembered at first.”

“Or more than you noticed at the time.”

“Was that it?” He shrugged as though he wasn’t convinced. “I know one thing. When I reached down for you at the cliff, and you took my hand and vaulted up in front of me on the horse, I suddenly realized we’d done that before.”

Her eyes widened. Now he was bringing up things she’d forgotten herself. “Oh. Yes! That time I was walking home from the village...”

“And you found a lost dog—a little white one.”

“With the sweetest little black nose.” She grinned. “I was trying to carry him back with me but I had a bag of groceries I’d picked up for my mother and I kept dropping things.”

He nodded, his blue eyes filled with humor. “I must have been about sixteen.”

“And I was about eleven.”

“I was riding Brown Sugar, my favorite Indian pony. I passed you and I think I said ‘hi.’”

“Hah!” She gave him a mock glare. “You didn’t say a word.”

He frowned. “I must have said ‘hey.’”

“No you didn’t. You were much too cool to deign to speak to a little girl like I was.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “I think you’re wrong,” he said, slightly grumpy. “Anyway, I looked back and you dropped your brown paper sack and macaroni noodles went into the air like a bomb had been set off, and the little dog jumped out of your arms and began to bark its head off.”

She winced. Some memories were just too painful. The sense of humiliation she’d felt that day came back to her in a wave.

“So I turned around. By the time I got back to you, you had it all back in your arms, but you looked like you were going to drop everything again any minute. I told you to give me the dog and the groceries.”

“And I thought you were going to ride off with them and leave me there.”

“But I didn’t. I stashed the groceries in my pack and the little dog in my shirt, and then I reached down for your hand.”

She laughed softly, staring off at the blue horizon. “And I felt like Cinderella,” she said.

She remembered that feeling. As though the prince had asked her to dance. She’d been on cloud nine all the way home, even though she knew he wasn’t exactly enjoying it as much as she was. Still, the most handsome boy she’d ever seen was being nice to her—for the moment. It made her whole summer brighter.

“I named him Snowcone,” she mused. “I loved that little dog.”

“Whatever happened to him?”

Her face clouded. “My father insisted on sending a notice to the paper and the real owners showed up three days later.” She shook her head. “I begged him not to do it, but you know what my father was like. Strictly by the rules.”

Marc looked at her speculatively and she raised her chin. She knew it sounded as though she was feeding him her vision of her father’s character, but she didn’t care. It was the truth. He might not know it, so she might as well let him in on it.

“Yeah,” he said, then looked around to where they’d tied the horse. “I guess we ought to get going.”

She nodded and followed him, still amazed and gratified that he’d remembered so much. There hadn’t been many incidents between the two of them but what there were still shone like gold in her memory. She pulled her way up to ride in front of him again, wishing they could just head on down the beach. She closed her eyes and felt Marc’s arm tighten around her.

But the ride slowed and finally came to a stop.

“We’re here,” he said, close to her ear, and she sat up straight and looked around.

The village had an old-fashioned, quaint look. Red-tile-roofed cottages were scattered all up and down the hills, most with flower gardens overflowing with blooms. Boats filled the small marina, many apparently working fishing trawlers. The business district boasted a coffee shop, a small market with bait shop, a real estate office and a rustic tavern with a wooden statue of an ancient mariner out front. The place looked about as it must have looked in the 1920s when it began as a tiny beach resort.

“You ready?” he asked her.

“Ready for what?” she asked, still floating in the mellow nature of the sunny day and only half interested in anything else.

“Ready to talk to Griswold.”

She turned to look back at him. “Who?”

“Griswold. Don’t you remember him? The chauffeur. He was there when it all went bad.”

“Oh.” She shivered and steadied herself. “Oh!” Griswold. Of course. He might have some answers. He was just exactly who she needed to talk to. She turned and smiled at Marc.

“Perfect,” she said, starting to get excited. Then she looked at him in wonder. He really was going to help her. “Thanks. This is...really cool.”

He laughed softly and shook his head, still holding her against himself as though he really didn’t want to let her go. “Let’s go see him before you get too appreciative,” he warned. “You never know.”

“Of course.” She set her shoulders and tried to get tough. This was important. She couldn’t be getting all silly over Marc and expect to maintain the sharp edge she was going to need if she was going to get anywhere.

They pulled in closer to the front of the tavern and dismounted. Marc tied the horse to a post at the entryway.

“Where did you get this nice horse?” she asked, stroking its velvet nose and getting a snuffle in return. She knew that Shangri-La didn’t have any horses these days, though they’d had a well-stocked stable when she’d lived there before.

“I went down to visit with an old rancher down the road,” he said, stopping to give the animal a pat as well. “Both his sons were friends of mine in high school and now they’re both in the military. He’s having trouble keeping his livestock exercised, so I volunteered to take this little lady out for a spin.”

“She’s a beauty,” Torie agreed.

Two girls in tiny bikinis with beach towels thrown over their shoulders strolled by on their way to the sandy shore. They gave Marc the eye with youthful enthusiasm, making Torie laugh.

“Girls always did like you, didn’t they?” she noted as they gave him a backwards look and disappeared around a corner.

He glared at her. “You think that’s funny?” he challenged. “You try living with it. They’re everywhere and they’re a pain in the neck.”

She laughed harder. “Poor baby. Such a burden.”

He turned and glared at her, then paused as though really seeing her for the first time. A slow smile crept into his eyes. “I’m sure you get your share,” he said.

Her laughter faded and she was suddenly uncomfortable. “Not me,” she said, trying for a light tone that didn’t quite work. “I’m not the type.”