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the way around.
    And most important, she wouldn’t have to share it with Lupe—or worse, with Buck.
    Buck and the photographer came up with the second load of suitcases and equipment. Chastity showed them their rooms. Buck got one next to B.J.’s. Now, why wasn’t she surprised?
    â€œMake yourself comfortable,” Buck suggested, dark eyes much too knowing. “And then I’ll show you around town.”
    â€œWonderful,” said B.J., meaning it wasn’t, but what could she do? “Give me ten minutes.”
    He cast a doubtful glance at her open-toed leopard print Manolos. “Got any decent walking shoes?”
    â€œI can walk anywhere in these,” she replied, just tobe difficult. Then she relented. “Okay, okay. I’ll change into something more clunky and hideous.”
    â€œDo that.”
    He went into his room. She stared at the door he’d shut behind him and thought a series of evil thoughts. Eventually, when glaring at his door failed to make it burst into flames, she gave up and went into her own room.
    First things first: time to unpack.
    B.J. loved living large. Though she was perfectly capable of traveling light if the situation demanded it, she preferred lots of options when it came to what to wear. For this trip, she’d brought four full-sized suitcases and a couple of smaller ones for her vanity items.
    No worries, though. She was extremely efficient. She could pack half her closet in no time—and unpack it again in less than that. Swiftly, she put things away in the drawers and filled the narrow closet. She even trotted down the hall and put her grooming products away in her bathroom.
    With two minutes to spare, B.J. pulled on some jeans and a pair of low-heeled knee-high Michael Kors suede boots—not hideous in the least, actually. But a girl has to score her points where she can. There was a tap at the door. B.J. scowled. Buck, no doubt. Ready to give her the guided tour. Oh, the joy. She grabbed her shearling jacket and answered the knock.
    And there he was, wearing jeans and boots and a flannel shirt, looking scrumptiously rugged and far too smug. “Ready?”
    She opened her mouth to say something snippy—and a blood-curdling scream erupted from the first floor. “What in God’s name was that?”
    But Buck had already turned and headed for the stairs.

Four
    B.J. took off after Buck as another piercing scream echoed up the stairwell.
    â€œI won’t!” a woman shouted. “I will not. No way!” Another scream followed, fading right in on top of the words.
    A man spoke—roughly, and low enough that B.J. couldn’t make out what he said.
    The woman screamed again.
    â€œNow, settle down, Glory.” That was Chastity’s calm, level voice. “Bowie. Back off.”
    By then, Buck had cleared the stairs and was striding toward the living room. B.J., right behind him, glanced back and saw Lupe coming down after them. Lupe always wore about twenty silver bangle bracelets on each arm. They jingled together as she took the steps two at a time. “What’s going on?” she demanded, kohl-lined black eyes wide with surprise.
    As if B.J. knew.
    In the living room, they found Chastity in front of the fireplace, legs braced apart, fisted hands planted hard on her hips. Behind her crouched a petite, dark-eyed brunette.
    â€œNo, Bowie,” the brunette cried. “No, no, no!” She peered through the crook in Chastity’s left elbow, gripping hunks of Chastity’s chunky sweater in either hand, using Buck’s mother as a human shield against the strapping, shaggy-haired mountain-man type over by the window.
    â€œYour brother?” B.J. asked Buck out of the corner of her mouth, tipping her head toward the mountain man.
    â€œâ€™Fraid so,” said Buck, sounding midway between amused and resigned.
    Even without Buck’s confirmation, B.J. would have pegged the guy as