Secret Dad

“So, Mr. Denver Smith,” she said pleasantly. “How long are you planning to stay?”

“About five more minutes,” he drawled, avoiding her gaze.

“No,” she responded with a quick laugh. “I mean here at the lake.”

“A few weeks,” he said, not filling in any details. After-dinner chitchat had never been one of his favorite activities.

“What made you come here to our little two-horse town?” she asked, glancing around the table to see if anyone needed anything. “All we’ve got is the lake and a broken-down ski lift Hal Waters is trying to sell to some gullible flatlander. We don’t get too many...” She stopped and pretended to blot at a spill with her napkin. She was going to say “men like you” but then she realized that might be a little too blatant a compliment. “Anyway, what made you come here?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t looking for a tourist trap. I’m not staying long.”

“And then what will you be going back to?” she asked.

He glanced at her, amused. He knew what she was up to, and he knew she knew he knew. But that didn’t mean she was going to get what she was after. “I suppose I’ll be going back to where I came from,” he told her casually.

She blinked, then leaned forward, her jaw at a determined angle, reminding him suddenly of her child. “And where, exactly, is that?” she insisted, her deep violet eyes pinning him to the wall.

He put off answering long enough to see those eyes flare with indignation before he gave her a tidbit. “I’ve got an apartment,” he admitted at last, suddenly feeling a little silly about being so close-mouthed. Years of training had made him that way. Experience and natural suspicion had intensified the instinct to keep his private life private—even from friends. But it could be he was going a little far here. After all, what would it hurt to tell Charlie a few things about himself? “I’m not there much, but it’s sort of a home base. It’s in San Francisco.”

“San Francisco.” She nodded, and there was a faraway look in her eyes. “I was born there.”

“Really?” Turn about was fair play, wasn’t it? “What brought you out here to the mountains instead?”

Her smile was brief and noncommittal. “I like the mountains,” she said evasively, rising and reaching for his plate. “There’s dessert, and I won’t hear ‘no’ from you. You just sit tight for another minute or two.”

Obediently, he stayed where he was, but he knew she was being as elusive as he was. That was odd, and yet it fit in with everything else she’d said today. She was here under an assumed name and she wanted to leave her past out of it. What was she running from? It would be very interesting to find out. And what would she do if she knew he recognized her? He hadn’t planned to tell her at all, assuming he wouldn’t be around long enough for it to matter. But now that he’d lingered this long, it hardly seemed fair to keep her in the dark. He ought to say something. Maybe he would.