Wedding Bells at Wandering Creek. Patricia Thayer

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      “He can’t stay parked out there,” Willow protested as she walked back and forth in front of the kitchen’s French doors the next morning. Her mother and Trevor were seated at the table for breakfast. Willow had no appetite after her confrontation with the P.I.

      “Nothing we can do about it,” Trevor offered as he glanced up at Regina Vargas. The young housekeeper set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. He smiled and thanked her, and his gaze lingered on the pretty, dark-haired Gina as she walked back to the stove.

      He sobered and glanced back at Willow. “We’ll need to find Dean so he can explain what’s going on.”

      “I called him.” Willow shook her head. “And I got his voice mail. Besides, that’s not going to stop Jack Sullivan right now. What will happen if the media gets wind that a P.I. is snooping around? We’ve more to think about than the tabloids. What about the donations for Kingsley’s Kids, and the summer camp opening in a few weeks?” Years ago her father started a charity to help disadvantaged kids. It was his way of dealing with the demons of his own dismal childhood.

      Molly Kingsley stood. “It’s going to be all right, Willow. I’m sure Dean will straighten this all out when he calls.”

      Willow smiled. That was her mom, the eternal optimist.

      “Besides,” Molly continued. “We’ve nearly reached our sponsorship goal for the camp.”

      True, but Willow knew how easily a charity could lose funding because of bad press. Ever since Matt Kingsley’s death, she and her mother had had some difficultly rebuilding financial aid for the project.

      Willow had promised her father she would keep the camp going. It was also close to her mother’s heart, just what Molly needed to fill her time. And with a lot of hard work, it was finally coming true. This was the first time in two years the Kingsley’s Kids Camp was able to open their doors again.

      She couldn’t let Jack Sullivan distract her from her goal.

      “If word gets around of a P.I. looking for Dean, it could ruin everything.”

      Her mother stared through the glass toward the road where the SUV was parked. “Then we need to disguise Mr. Sullivan.” She turned and looked at her daughter, then at Trevor. “So he’s not as noticeable.”

      “I’d like to hide him out back in the manure pile,” Trevor said, giving up on his breakfast.

      Molly smiled brightly. “Close, but why not put him to work while he’s hanging around waiting for Dean? I mean, you can use some help, right, Trevor?”

      Willow blinked. “Sure, but Sullivan doesn’t look the type who knows much about the workings of a ranch.”

      “He looked pretty buff to me.” Molly grinned mischievously. “He can lift and tote.”

      Willow blinked. “Mother, surely you can’t be thinking of hiring him? Of bringing him onto the property?”

      “It’s a lot better than having him parked out there drawing attention.”

      “What makes you think he’ll agree to do it?” Willow asked.

      “Because he wants to find Dean,” Molly said. “And I want to learn more about what kind of trouble my son is in.”

      Willow didn’t want any stranger hanging around, but she liked it even less that this particular man was literally camped on their doorstep. “First, I’ll have Jack Sullivan checked out. Then, and only then, will I consider going along with this crazy idea.”

      “It isn’t crazy if it protects our family,” her mother said.

      Willow had grown up in the spotlight. She wasn’t sure anything could protect them.

      CHAPTER TWO

      “IT NEVER RAINS in Southern California,” Jack murmured as he squinted through the water-sheeted windshield. “Not in the summertime, anyway. Yeah, right.” It had been drizzling most of the night and half the day.

      As a Seattle native, he should be used to wet weather, but he hated the rain. He leaned back in the seat, wishing this job was over. What he’d hoped would be a quick trip was now dragging out. Maybe he should just cut his losses and try another lead.

      Problem was, there were no other leads. He also knew he needed to be less conspicuous. Parking on the edge of the ranch property wasn’t going to surprise the suspect.

      Jack rubbed his hand over his face. Last night he’d gotten a room at a motel along the highway, showered and ate some dinner, then made the call to Stan Walsh.