Chapter Two

      “HI,” DELIA SAID to Gabe Mitchell as she entered the dining room from the kitchen, her daughter in tow. “Sorry about the interruption.”

      “No apologies necessary,” Gabe said with a smooth smile. The man had a dangerous charm and was painfully easy on the eyes—a potentially lethal combo and one that in the past would have had her panting at his feet.

      Thank God she’d grown up some in the past few years.

      From what she could tell, the two brothers could not be more different. Max had been kind enough but she’d bet her car he didn’t know how to roll out the red carpet like Gabe. Stupidly, she found herself liking Max’s quiet intensity better. But she’d married her husband thinking the same thing and look where that had gotten her.

      Delia would make a point to stay away from Max if she landed this job.

      “I would have done the same thing if my daughter had run off.” Gabe smiled at Josie, who had the good sense to look chagrined.

      “Did you see anything interesting?” he asked Josie.

      “Max.”

      Gabe nodded. “Well, he’s interesting all right. Did he scare you?”

      Yes, Delia thought. He scares me.

      “No,” Josie said. “He was nice.”

      “Nice?” Gabe pretended to be doubtful. “We’re talking about the same guy? Big and tall with black hair and—?”

      “That’s him.” Josie was smiling.

      Gabe leaned forward and whispered, “Did he show you his scar?”

      Josie’s eyes went wide and she shook her head.

      Gabe lifted his chin and drew a line across part of his throat. “Pirates got him.”

      Immediately Josie looked dubious and Delia stifled her own smile. Gabe had just insulted Josie’s tenuous status as a big kid.

      “There are no such things as pirates.” She looked scornful. “You’re fooling around.”

      Gabe sighed and straightened. “You’re too smart, Josie Johnson. Too smart for me. I think we’ve got some coloring books around here somewhere. My wife’s idea.” Gabe’s eyes twinkled.

      Ah, yes. The wife.

      Smooth smiles or not, there was no way any woman could combat the love Gabe clearly had for his wife, Alice.

      Delia hadn’t met Alice yet, but Gabe’s feelings for her practically filled the room.

      Gabe turned to the cabinets near the bar to look for the coloring books and Josie rolled her eyes at Delia.

      Josie thought she was too old for such things and maybe she was, but Delia lifted her eyebrow anyway. The kid would sit and play with rocks or stare quietly into space or whatever it took for Delia to finish this interview.

      They needed this job. They needed it bad. They had no cash and nowhere to go.

      Gabe turned around armed with puzzles, books, coloring books and big boxes of crayons and colored pencils.

      “After a few dinner-hour disasters, Alice bought this stuff for the guests with kids,” he said, handing everything over to Josie, who perked up at the sight of the puzzles.

      The girl was a sudoku fanatic.

      Josie settled herself at one of the tables and Delia gripped her hands together behind her back, in an attempt to stem the anxiousness whirling through her stomach.

      “Where were we?” she asked, while Gabe watched Josie.

      “Sorry.” Gabe shook his head and laughed. “My wife and I are expecting and I just…It’s nuts to think I’m going to have an eight-year-old kid at some point.”

      He’d told her about the baby maybe a million times when they should have been talking about the inn’s new spa services. But Delia smiled. “It goes by fast, that’s for sure.” She paused for a moment and channeled some of her mother’s graceful social niceties. “You were talking about the new addition to the lodge—”

      “Right, right. Sorry.” Again the lethal smile and she hoped this Alice woman knew how lucky she was. “Follow me.” He led her to a door in the back corner of the dining room, next to the elegant desk, where guests checked in. The door had a discreet sign on it: Spa.

      “We’re still adding the finishing touches, but here it is.” He pushed open the door to a dimly lit hallway, painted a soothing gray-green. “There’s a little bit of paint and electrical work to do. We wanted to leave it fairly unfinished so whoever we hired could make the space their own.”

      Delia stood on the threshold and let the chills run through her. Her gut, her head, her heart—they all said, This is it.

      Daddy always said his momma had the sight. Delia didn’t believe in those things anymore—not since Jared had taken a sledgehammer to her life—but she could see herself here. Working. Raising Josie.

      This couldn’t be a better situation.

      Autonomy and security, at least for the time being.

      Gabe stepped down the hallway and Delia turned to shoot her willful daughter a look then followed him through the door.

      “Our reservations fell so dramatically once the fall colors ended we knew we had to do something.” He opened the door to a massage room with a big padded table positioned in the center. There was a shelf for her lotions and even an outlet so she could plug in her hot pot to do hot-stone massages. “We’re getting a few cross-country skiers but it’s still not enough. So—”

      “So, you’re an inn and spa.”

      “Exactly. We were going to wait a few years before adding the spa, but we figured sooner rather than later would help us all keep our jobs.” He grinned again and Delia wondered if anyone ever said no to the guy. No wonder his wife was pregnant. “We’re ready to start advertising the services, but we wanted to get the right person in, someone who we knew could handle the work and had the right philosophy.” Gabe paused, offering her an opportunity to tell him her philosophy.

      Funny, she used to have one of those. Now her whole philosophy was surviving the day.

      “I was trained in San Antonio,” she said. “I apprenticed at the Four Seasons there and am a registered massage therapist and yoga instructor.”

      “The last month and a bit?” he asked. “You have a gap in your résumé.”

      Delia forced herself to smile and let the lie slide right off her tongue. “I went to France. Personal reasons.”

      “Ah, nothing better than personal