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she’s
going longer this time.”
    “But I thought it was a full weekend.” The
price I’d seen on the flyer was certainly enough to cover two
nights at even the fanciest of hotels in Montana. Not that there
were any overly fancy hotels... And even with having to work for my
supper, I wasn’t willing to have my romantic getaway cut short.
    “Oh, it’s a full weekend, but after the
unveiling, they slip in some DVDs and call it good. I think Andrea,
excuse me, Lady York, has a gym set up in one of the cabins. At
least I’ve seen her leaving one in disarray on more than one
occasion.” She laughed and took another sip.
    “Oh.” I wasn’t sure how else to respond. The
flyer certainly hadn’t mentioned that the mystery part of the
weekend was really only one night, but then if this weekend was
going to be carried further, I really couldn’t complain.
    Mrs. Peabody, apparently deciding we were
buds, looped her arm through mine and pulled me toward the living
room. “Let’s drink on it.”
    I glanced over my shoulder at Peter who
seemed to have been similarly cornered by Lady York. At least I
assumed he had been cornered. He was pressed up against the dining
room wall while she talked to him in an animated manner.
    Mrs. Peabody, catching the direction of my
attention, stopped and frowned. Her eyes narrowed, and for a minute
I thought she might stomp over and jerk my boyfriend from our
hostess’ trap. Peter’s gaze slid to the side, catching me with a
beseeching look.
    I smiled and started to move forward, but
Mrs. Peabody, who had apparently seen his look of desperation too,
laughed. Then she grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the
living room.
    “Let him suffer a little. It won’t hurt
him.”
    Mr. Blore was back at the bar, mixing a
fresh batch of martinis. Mrs. Peabody grabbed a glass for me and
watched carefully as he filled both hers and mine to the rim.
    I was taking a sip of something pink and
frothy and very Valentiney, if not at all what I would have
expected either a pretend banker or a real rancher to concoct, when
Peter and Lady York walked through the door from the dining
room.
    Our hostess looked pensive and not happy.
Peter looked like he always looked, calm and unruffled.
    He walked over to stand next to me as I
sipped. His presence made my skin tingle. I didn’t know why he had
this affect on me. It was both insanely attractive and wholly
annoying that all he had to do was stand silently with his hands in
his pockets and my insides fluttered.
    I don’t think he was even aware that he did
it, but whenever he entered a room, he sized it and everyone in it
up. Then he stood by watching, in a crazy casual way that told you
whatever might happen, he would have things under control. He was
top dog without ever having to so much as snarl.
    It was, quite honestly, stupid sexy.
    Mrs. Peabody cocked an eyebrow. “Cop or
military?”
    My surprise must have shown on my face.
“Detective, in Helena.”
    She nodded and took a drink. “He has the
look.”
    I smiled. I couldn’t help it. He did, and he
was here with me. I put my hand on his arm and lifted up on my toes
to whisper in his ear that Kiska was looking a little tired
and perhaps we should take our drinks to our cabin.
    Furniture squeaked. Recognizing the sound of
old wood being moved, I turned. Lady York stood in front of the
buffet, directing her husband as he pulled the piece of furniture
away from the wall.
    “It has to be there,” she said. “It isn’t on
the floor. It must have slipped behind it and gotten trapped
between the back and the wall.”
    Except as the antique wood creaked and the
not antique, but not overly young Sir Arthur reddened, nothing
dropped from behind the buffet onto the floor.
    Apparently not trusting her husband’s
efforts, Lady York strode forward and pulled the buffet another two
feet away from the baseboard. “It’s not here!” she announced,
holding up her hands. Frustration was clear on her face. She