“I like that,” Nancy said. “I think the readers will like it, too. Arizona is getting tons of media attention so there’s no point in rehashing old material. Everyone will be tired of it by then. But this is new and fresh. Have you run it by Jerry?”

Chloe glanced at her watch. “I have a meeting with him in a couple of hours.”

“He’s going to think it’s great.” She laughed. “Actually what you’re going to hear is a noncommittal grunt, which means he thinks it’s great. If he hates it, he tells you to your face.”

“I know that one firsthand. Okay, Nancy. Thanks for your help.” They said their goodbyes and hung up.

Chloe turned on her computer and prepared to type up her notes. Usually she could focus on her work, but today there was a voice nagging in the back of her mind.

“This is too ridiculous,” she said softly. “I won’t get a moment’s peace until I fix this.”

With that, she picked up the phone again, consulted a pad of paper and dialed.

“Room 308,” she told the receptionist. “The guest’s name is Arizona Smith.”

She waited while the call was connected. It was possible that he hadn’t gone back to the hotel yet. He might be out all day. If that was the case, she would leave him voice mail asking him to get in touch with her. No matter how long it took, she was going to have to talk to him and apologize for her behavior that morning. There was no point in trying to explain—she wasn’t about to tell him about her dream or the fact that she’d known about his scar even before he’d rolled up his sleeve. But she at least had to atone for her rudeness in running off.

The receiver was picked up, cutting off her train of thought.

“Smith,” he said by way of a greeting.

“Hi, it’s Chloe. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“No bother.”

His voice sounded normal. She took that as a good sign. “I’m calling to apologize for what happened earlier today. I don’t know why I ran off like that.” She crossed the fingers of her free hand, hoping the superstitious gesture would make up for the small lie.

“I understand. Sometimes I have that effect on women. They lose control and rather than let me see how overcome they are, they run off.”

His voice was so calm and serious it took her a minute to figure out he was teasing. She chuckled. “Yeah, right, that was it exactly. Overcome by your substantial charms, I had to retreat to the relative sanctuary of my office so that I could recover.”

“Are you better now?” he asked.

“Much, thank you.” They laughed together, then she said, “I’m serious. I don’t know what came over me. It was terrible to leave like that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

“It better not. You won’t get much of a story if you keep running out on the interview.”

“Can I make it up to you? Would you please come over for dinner tonight?”

He hesitated. Chloe swallowed as her good humor disappeared like feathers sucked up into a tornado. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “You have other plans,” she said, making it a statement, not a question. Who was she, this other woman?

“Actually, I don’t. Yes, I would love to join you for dinner. However, your aunt already issued the invitation and I accepted.”

“Aunt Charity phoned?”

“First thing this morning.”

Chloe knew she shouldn’t be annoyed at her aunt. After all, Charity called the old Victorian mansion home, and she had every right to invite whomever she liked. But the tension was there all the same.

“That’s great,” Chloe told him. “I’ll see you then. This time I promise not to freak when you show off your scars.”

“If you’re very good I’ll even let you touch them.”

She thought about the one on his leg and couldn’t suppress a shudder of anticipation. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

* * *

CHLOE PULLED INTO the driveway. Mr. Withers, the seventy-year-old misogynist caretaker sat on his rider-mower, going back and forth on the front lawn.

“Evening, Mr. Withers,” Chloe called out as she stepped up to the front porch.

Mr. Withers offered a wave that was more dismissal than greeting and muttered something under his breath. Probably something mildly offensive, Chloe thought with a grin. The old man had been around since long before her mother had been born. He’d always taken care of the house. If either of the sisters dared to try to engage him in conversation they risked being called mindless ninnies. Chloe had always wanted to ask what other kind of ninnies existed—didn’t the definition of the insult imply a mindlessness? But she didn’t think Mr. Withers would appreciate her humor.

“Have a nice night,” she told him as she stepped into the house and was rewarded with another grunt.

She shut the front door behind him, effectively cutting off most of the noise from the power mower. “I’m home,” she yelled in the direction of the kitchen.

“It’s Chloe!” Cassie came racing down the hall and slipped to a stop in front of her. “I want to hear everything, but so does Aunt Charity so you have to wait until we’re all together. But plan on spilling lots and lots of details. Oh, and he’s coming to dinner. Isn’t that great?” She took a deep breath before continuing. “He is so amazingly cool and good-looking. How can you stand it? I mean, spending the day with him. Did he look into your eyes and say something wonderful? Don’t you think he’s just incredibly interesting?”

Chloe put down her briefcase and slipped out of her linen jacket. After linking her arm with her sister’s she led them both to the kitchen. “I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted. “I swear, Cassie, sometimes you act like you’re barely sixteen instead of nearly twenty-five.”

Cassie tossed her head, making her short dark hair dance around her face. “I’m blessed with an enthusiastic nature,” she said, not the least bit insulted by her sister’s comment. “I enjoy life and all that it has to offer. Arizona Smith is a very interesting man and I’m enjoying his company. We can’t all be jaded reporters. I’d rather be the romantic dreamer I am any day.”

They reached the kitchen. Cassie stepped away and got them each a soda from the refrigerator. Chloe settled at the kitchen table. “Where’s Aunt Charity?” she asked.

“Taking a shower. The spaghetti sauce has been simmering for hours.” She pointed to a pot on a back burner. She plopped down opposite her sister. “Tell me everything.”

Chloe obliged, telling her sister about the gem exhibit and recounting Arizona’s stories.

Cassie sighed. “It’s so romantic. What a great way to spend the morning. But you probably just sat there taking notes, not even noticing the man. You’re hopeless.” Cassie tucked her short hair behind her ear. “I swear, when I have my twenty-fifth birthday and I get to wear the nightgown, I’m not going to waste a perfectly good opportunity dreaming about nothing! I plan to have a wonderfully romantic dream.”

Chloe smiled as her sister talked. She was glad they were back together again. The three years they’d spent apart in high school had been difficult for them both. She fought against a familiar flash of anger. Their parents should have planned better, she thought for the thousandth time. If they had, the two sisters wouldn’t have been separated and put into different foster homes.

She shook off the old memories and concentrated on the evening ahead. She’d promised herself that she would act like a real professional, that she wouldn’t let thoughts of the dream interfere.

“What time is Arizona coming over?” she asked.

Cassie glanced at the clock above the stove. “In about an hour.”

“I’d better get changed.”

Cassie followed her up the stairs. “Are you all right? Is something bothering you? You got a funny look on your face a second ago.”

“I’m fine.” They reached her bedroom first and both women entered. They sat on the bed facing each other. “I was just thinking that I’m glad we’re back together. High school was hard.”

Cassie’s good humor faded a little. “I know. I hated that the courts forced us to live apart. But we’re together now—at least until you run off to the big city to write for one of those New York magazines.” Cassie held up her hand. “Don’t even say it. I know the drill. This is what you want and you have every right to pursue your dreams. But I’ll miss you.”

Chloe leaned toward her. “You could come with me. We could rent an apartment together.”

Cassie shook her head. “No. I don’t want to leave Bradley. I like it here. I adore my job.”

“You’re a nursery school teacher.”

“Exactly, and I love it. The kids are great. I know you don’t understand—you want more for me. But this is what I want and you have to remember to respect that.”

“I know.” Chloe sighed. It was a familiar discussion. One she’d never won. “I just think you could do so much more with your life.”

“And I think working with children is the most important thing I can do. Besides, even if I was tempted to run off to New York with you, which I’m not, I couldn’t. What about Joel?”

Chloe forced her expression to remain pleasant and her hands still, when all she wanted to do was grab her sister by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.

Joel and Cassie had been dating since high school. They had an “understanding” that they would become engaged and then marry.

It was all a quirk of fate, Chloe thought grimly. While she had been sent away to another city when their parents had died and the two girls had been put into foster care, Cassie had stayed in town. She’d gone to the local high school and had started seeing Joel.

“If you can’t say something nice,” Cassie warned.

“Joel is the most boring man on the planet.”

“That’s hardly nice.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say. It’s a real improvement.”

“Oh, Chloe, we can’t all be like you. I think it’s great that you want to leave Bradley and make something of yourself. That’s your life and you’re going to be wonderful. But it’s not my life. I want to stay here. I want to have a family. Joel wants to marry me. I love him. I’ve been dating him for nearly nine years and he makes me happy. Let it go.”

Chloe bit her tongue and nodded her agreement. There wasn’t anything else she could say. Cassie was right—they each had to live their own lives.

Her sister stood up. “I have to go make myself beautiful for our guest and I suggest you do the same.” She paused in the doorway and leaned back dramatically, the back of one hand pressed against her forehead. “Maybe he’ll tell us about the time he saved the virgin from the angry volcano by single-handedly fighting off a dozen hostile natives with his bare hands.”

“I’m sure that will be the first story to cross his lips.”

“I knew it.” Cassie waggled her fingers and left.

Chloe stared after her. The two sisters couldn’t be more different. Part of the reason, she knew, was because they weren’t related by blood. When her mother had had trouble conceiving, her parents had gone on a long waiting list for adoption. As sometimes happened, Amanda Wright had later found out she was pregnant. The doctors had warned her she was unlikely to have another baby, so they hadn’t pulled their application. Seven months after Chloe had been born the Wrights received a call telling them there was a one-month-old girl available, if they wanted her.

Growing up, Chloe couldn’t remember a time when Cassie hadn’t been around. The girls had been inseparable. That had made those three years apart even more difficult.

She stood up and walked to the closet, not sure what she was going to wear tonight. Something pretty, but professional. She was going to ask Arizona questions to make up for her lapse earlier that day. As she studied her wardrobe, she heard Cassie’s enthusiastic but off-key singing drifting down the hall. She smiled. Cassie was one of those rare people who absolutely believed the best in everyone and always told the truth. She led with her chin and sometimes she got hurt. But that never changed her feelings about herself or the world.

Chloe wondered what it would be like to have that much faith. She was too cynical to believe in people. Especially those she didn’t know well. That’s why she was a decent journalist. The thing was if she wanted anyone else to believe that, she was going to have to write a dyn**ite article. Arizona Smith and the secrets of his life were her ticket out of Bradley.

* * *

ARIZONA SWALLOWED A drink of beer and wondered why the sight of an attractive young woman cooing over the scar on his arm didn’t do a thing for him. Cassie bent over him and made tsking noises.

“I can see where they first stitched you up in the field,” she said. “There are still a few puncture wounds.”

Her fingers were cool and smooth as she stroked his skin. He waited, hoping to feeling a tingle or a flicker of interest. Nothing. Less than nothing. He was restless.

Cassie straightened and smiled. “Any other scars?”

She’d noticed the mark on his arm the second he’d walked into the house. As near as he could figure, the sight of it had sent Chloe screaming out of his presence. Funny, he’d never thought it was that scary looking, but then he was a guy. Maybe Chloe was squeamish.

Cassie’s gaze was filled with curiosity and good humor. She reminded him of the little sister he’d never had. He couldn’t help teasing her a little. “I do have another scar on my leg. I’d show it to you, but I’d have to take my pants off to do it.”