He spoke softly. “Tell me what happened?”
They sat on the couch and Cash held her hands while she spoke.
“Dani is Gladys Farley’s daughter. The handmade cards proved it. There were other signs, possibilities, but the cards—they said it all.”
“I’m glad for you, Christie. I know you would have been disappointed if it had turned out any other way.”
“Devastated is more like it. I let myself get too involved in the personal side of this case, and it drained me.”
“You have a soft heart and I love that about you.”
She felt heat creep through her veins. No matter how he used the word love, it infused her with warmth.
“Maybe you need some R & R, a weekend away. I have just the prescription. I’ll take you to the jazz and bluegrass festival in Lake Tahoe. We can fly into Reno, rent a car, and stay at the Hyatt in Incline Village. I went last year and they had some great bands. We could stop and see your folks, too. What about it?”
“Sounds great! I don’t know much about bluegrass, but I enjoy jazz.”
“Tell you what, I’ll buy you a straw hat and I guarantee you will fit in with the country crowd. They have some hot banjo players, and the place will jump. Now let’s eat this food before it gets cold.”
“You’re always so practical.”
Practicality was obviously the last thing from his mind when he said good night. He held her so close she could almost feel the breath being squeezed out of her lungs. She was aware of his fingers at the back of her neck, inching upward into her hair. Drawing her face closer to his, he hesitated a second and their gazes locked. Their lips were nearly touching and she could taste his breath. When their mouths joined, her lips parted ever so slightly and she drank in his kiss. Her eyelids flickered shut and blocked outside thoughts. At that moment, only Cash filled her mind and heart. And it was a glorious sensation.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Christie looked up from the report she was detailing for the Farleys. Tom leaned against the office door frame, coffee mug in hand.
“Great job, Christie. If you ever contemplate a career switch, I could use another investigator on my staff.”
Christie laughed. “I don’t envy you your job, Tom. I had a lucky break. I’ll stick to document examinations.”
“Mrs. Farley called before you came in. I think you can expect a generous bonus.”
“She doesn’t have to—”
Tom raised his hand with his palm toward Christie. “She wants to. You brought her more happiness than you can imagine. And peace. There’s probably a little something in it for me, too, for referring her to you, so we’ll both benefit.”
“Winners all around. No complaints there.”
The phone rang, and Tom gave a brief salute, then returned to his office.
It was Cash. “I got tickets for the Lake Tahoe jazz festival. Put on your straw hat, we’re heading for the mountains.”
Christie laughed. “You sound like a hayseed.”
“Watch your mouth, lady. Bluegrass is serious music. I’ll convert you yet. Shall we talk about it over dinner tonight?”
“Only if I can cook for you. It’s my turn—more than my turn, actually.”
“I’ve never said no to a home-cooked meal. What time?”
“Sevenish?”
“I’ll see you then.”
Christie left the office early enough to make a quick run to the market to pick up the ingredients for clam linguine and a salad. She browsed the fresh loaves of bread and selected a sourdough baguette. Almond praline ice cream was the last item to go into the basket. She had a container of frozen strawberries in the refrigerator to top the dessert.
Cash arrived at her apartment at six forty-five. When she remarked that he was early, he grinned sheepishly and told her that he figured the time was as close to “sevenish” as patience would allow.
“I was eager to see you. After all, it has been almost twenty-four hours since we’ve been together. I can’t believe I said that. I sound like a kid with a schoolboy crush.”
“What’s wrong with that?” she asked, stretching on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. He grabbed her around the waist.
“You don’t get away that easy,” he said. “I may act like a schoolboy around you, but I’m not settling for a child’s kiss.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard. Her response was anything but a schoolgirl’s. His kiss sent shivers along her spine and melted her heart. She wanted to cling to him endlessly, but a buzzer sounded, and they broke apart.
“What is that?” Cash asked.
“The kitchen timer. The clam sauce is ready.”
Cash tossed the salad while Christie spooned the clam sauce over the pasta. The timer buzzed again.
“Now what?” Cash asked.
“Garlic bread. Without the timer I invariably scorch it.” She reached for a pot holder, withdrew the cookie sheet, and shoved the oven door shut with her hip. She slipped the garlic bread into a wicker basket and covered it with a cloth napkin.
“This looks delicious,” Cash remarked as he carried the bowl of linguine to the table. “Where are the candles? You can’t have an Italian dinner without candles.”
“In the sideboard.”
He opened a drawer, took out a pair of candles and glass candleholders, and placed them on the table. “Matches?”
“Same drawer, they probably got pushed to the back.”
In a few minutes, they were sitting across from each other. The candles’ soft glow sent light and shadow dancing across the table. Cash uncorked a bottle of chardonnay and poured a glass for each of them.
“To us,” he toasted.
“Yes, to us,” Christie replied, warmed by the thought.
A few days before the Tahoe jazz festival, Christie called her parents to make sure they would be in town. Her mother expressed disappointment that she and Cash would not be staying at their home in Reno. Christie explained that the concerts ended late, and it was a long drive over Mount Rose Highway to Reno, and not one they would want to chance late at night, especially with the threat of black ice. Her mother conceded to her daughter’s safety, but insisted on cooking dinner for them on Sunday. Christie would have suggested eating out, but she knew her mother delighted in fussing over her.
She looked forward to seeing her parents, but was a little nervous about having them meet Cash. She hoped they didn’t assume this was a serious relationship and grill him. Since she herself wasn’t sure where their romance was headed, she didn’t want her parents to jinx it with intrusive and possibly embarrassing questions. She had told her mother that Cash was “just a friend,” but it was obvious that her mother did not believe her for a minute.
Friday came quickly. Cash had been explicit about packing light. Christie brought a carry-on suitcase and a small duffel for odds and ends. Jeans and a couple of long-sleeved shirts should take her through the weekend. A jacket, too, because even in late May it could snow in Tahoe. For good measure, she tossed a quilted vest into the duffel.
Cash picked her up at her apartment and they headed to the airport. He spoke enthusiastically about the jazz festival and kept her mind off the prospect of flying.
Cruising over the Sierras, Christie was tempted to close her eyes and blot out the view of the ridges and treetops. The mountain peaks appeared to be a wingtip away. She tried to remember that Cash was an excellent pilot, but acknowledging that fact did nothing to quell the butterflies in her stomach. When the Beechcraft Baron touched down at Reno Airport, she breathed a sigh of relief.
In a short time they were driving over Mount Rose Highway in a rented SUV. Cash’s snow warning did not materialize, but the weather could change before the weekend was over. At the Hyatt in Incline Village, the parking attendant took the keys to their vehicle and handed Cash a receipt. Inside the hotel the lobby was framed in rough-hewn beams and heavy rock facing. Thick, wrought-iron chandeliers were suspended from the high ceiling. The decor resembled a Swiss chalet.