The Newcomer

His face took on a startled, cunning look. “You mean he’d give me cash for this place? Full market value? And then afterward he’d let me keep running my business like nothing ever happened?”

Maggie nodded. “And of course the new owner would be responsible for taxes and improvements to the property. Your only requirement would be the payment of a nominal rent.”

Ralph Wall’s cheeks glistened with excitement. Maggie could almost smell the scent of greed exuding from him, and had to force herself not to back away from the counter.

“So how many businesses would your movie producer want to be buying this way?” he asked. “Just my drugstore, or what?”

“I think it’s possible he might be interested in the entire downtown area,” Maggie said. “Possibly even a number of the residential properties.”

“But…” Ralph Wall stared at her, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. “But something like that…it’d have to cost thousands of dollars. Maybe…” His voice was hushed. “Maybe millions.”

“These days, even the smallest movies have multimillion-dollar budgets, Mr. Wall.”

She turned to go, but he reached out and clutched her arm.

Maggie paused, hating the feeling of his hand against her jacket.

“Look, Ms. Embree, is this on the level? This movie producer might really give me cash value for my drugstore, and then let me stay here and run it?”

“Does that really appeal to you?” Maggie asked with genuine curiosity. “I thought people always dream of owning their business themselves.”

“Not when they’re so strapped for cash they can hardly turn around, like most of us are in this town,” he said with a dark, bitter look. “Working for somebody else and having him take over the money worries sounds pretty damn good to me.”

There was no doubting his eagerness. If other people in Crystal Creek turned out to be this anxious to sell, Natasha’s ludicrous plan might actually be feasible.

“It’s not something I’m free to discuss at the moment, Mr. Wall.” Maggie dropped her voice, shook her arm free of his grasp and glanced toward the door. “And I’ll also have to ask you not to talk with anybody else about this, please.”

The fat man licked his lips, staring at her. “Not a word,” he breathed in a hoarse whisper. “I won’t say a word.”

“Thank you.”

Maggie headed for the door with her sack of cat food, glancing over her shoulder. The druggist already had his back to her and was dialing the phone, his body trembling with excitement.

Frowning, she strolled down the moonlit street toward the hotel, brooding over her first testing of the waters in Crystal Creek.

Ralph Wall had the look of an incorrigible gossip. Within a day or two, the story of the rich movie producer buying up real estate was probably going to be all over Crystal Creek, and then the discussion and argument would begin.

And judging by what Maggie now knew about the financial state of this town, maybe she wouldn’t even have to seek people out.

They would be coming to her, she thought, her stomach tightening with concern. All she had to do was wait a while, and begin signing checks. Unless she could somehow talk Natasha out of this whole grotesque plan.

Not that she hadn’t tried, of course. In recent months Maggie had spent long hours arguing with her famous employer, battling to convince Natasha that she could earn the love and loyalty of these townspeople simply by making a substantial donation to the small Texas community.

But Natasha wasn’t interested in being the town’s patron. She wanted to own Crystal Creek. And nothing, it seemed, was going to stop her.

DOUG WAS STILL WORKING over his snarl of invoices and computer printouts when Maggie came back into the hotel lobby. Apparently the younger brother had gone off somewhere on his own because she was alone now, carrying a sack from Wall’s Drugstore and looking preoccupied.

She seemed more approachable, too, dressed in pleated khakis, a cable-knit sweater and a duffel coat with hood. The enticing hair clip had been replaced by a long casual braid.

Again he thought about unfastening that braid, letting her hair fall free across her shoulders.

Doug loved the look of a woman with long hair. Especially when it was dark and glossy like Maggie’s, with chestnut highlights…

“Hi.” She paused by the counter. “How’s it going?”

“Not well,” he said, catching a whiff of the tantalizing perfume she wore. It smelled more woodsy than sweet, like the forest after a rain.

A lovely, elusive fragrance…

“So how much would I have to pay you to sort this all out for me?” he asked, gesturing at the computer and the messy stack of papers.

She stared, and again he was conscious of her classic features, the fine dark eyes and high cheekbones. “You’re kidding.”

“On the contrary, I’m deadly serious. How long would it take to bring my bookkeeping system into the new millennium?”

“A good accountant could analyze your needs and set up a couple of decent spreadsheets within…” Maggie glanced at her watch. “Oh, I’d say…a few hours. But it might take a day or two if the problems are widespread.”

Doug was almost dizzied by her nearness, to say nothing of this incredible statement. “If you could do that for me,” he told her, “I’d give you a week of rent-free accommodation.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Her darkly lashed eyes were so beautiful. He couldn’t stop gazing at them. And her body under the casual clothes was so enticing, slim and richly curved, with long legs and high, sweet breasts…

“Ridiculous?” he asked.

She hesitated, then tossed her package and duffel coat onto a couch, opened the little gate and came around behind the desk, perching next to him on another stool.

“Let me have the computer,” she said. “I don’t want to look at your books, but I’ll download a useful spreadsheet for you right now, and you can pay me back by giving me a drink of Irish cream in the pub later on.”

In the midst of his enchantment, Doug felt a sharp twinge of suspicion. This offer was too good to be true, and so was the lovely woman at his side.

“What’s the catch?” he asked.

She gave him one of the enchanting, luminous smiles that made his heart beat faster. “Are Scotsmen always so suspicious of ordinary human kindness?”

“We Scots have discovered over the years,” he said, “that a healthy dose of suspicion helps us to get along with our neighbors.”

“It does?”

“Well,” he amended after brief consideration, “suspicion and a bloody great wall.”

She chuckled, and he was undone. He would have given anything just to hear her laugh again. When she pressed closer to him, punching numbers on the keyboard, one of her breasts touched his arm and it was all he could not to sweep her into his arms.

“So you wouldn’t worry about a stranger looking at your business affairs?” she asked, dragging him back to reality.

“Why should I be? There’s nothing to hide in my books. The temps I hire to come up from Austin and wade through this mess, are all strangers.”

By now, Maggie was all business, entering instructions, pulling down packages of software he’d never seen before. Her fingers flew over the screen, and as she concentrated, she bit her full lower lip between perfect white teeth.