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Buchanan - Renard series

Garwood's latest in the Buchanan family saga finally has a story for Noah. Garwood's grasp on believable dialogue and actions by her characters make this an enjoyable novel. Though Noah and Jordan make an intriguing pairing* there just seems to be something missing - like the family's reaction to their sister falling for Noah. He seems to be a different character altogether - what happened to the jokester lothario that made such an impact on the other Buchanan novels? With the exception of the reference to his entertaining the wedding party the night before* this Noah seemed... neutered. In addition* there is no real closure on the so-called McKenna-Buchanan feud (and it just wasn't interesting enough to warrant another installment). But overall* I love the Buchanan series and this one while it may be missing something* is still well written and engaging
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يجب ان ترد لمشاهدة المحتوى المخفي

Shadow Dance is a work of fiction. Names* places* and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2007 by Julie Garwood
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books* an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group* a division of Random House* Inc.* New York.
BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House* Inc.

THIS WEDDING WAS NO SMALL AFFAIR. T HERE WERE SEVEN bridesmaids* seven groomsmen* three ushers* two altar boys* three lectors* and enough firepower inside the church to wipe out half the congregation. All but two of the groomsmen were armed.
The federal agents weren’t happy about the crowd* but they knew it would be pointless to complain. The father of the groom* Judge Buchanan* wasn’t about to miss such an auspicious occasion* no matter how many death threats he received. The judge was in the midst of hearing a racketeering case back in Boston* and the federal agents assigned to protect him would continue their detail until the trial was over and a decision had been rendered.
The church was packed to capacity. The Buchanans were such a large family that some of the groom’s relatives and friends spilled over to the bride’s side. Most had traveled to the little town of Silver Springs* South Carolina* from Boston* but there were several Buchanan cousins who had come all the way from Inverness* Scotland* to celebrate the marriage of Dylan Buchanan and Kate MacKenna.
The bride and groom were deliriously happy* and their wedding was a joyous occasion* but it never would have happened if it weren’t for Dylan’s sister* Jordan. Kate and Jordan were best friends and had been roommates in college. The first time Jordan took Kate to her family’s home on Nathan’s Bay* all the siblings had gathered to celebrate their father’s birthday. Jordan certainly had no intention of matchmaking* and she definitely wasn’t aware at the time that there had been a spark between Kate and her brother Dylan* so years later when the spark ignited into a flame and the two became engaged* no one was more surprised—or thrilled—than she.
Every last detail of the happy event had been meticulously planned. Like Kate* Jordan was a great organizer* and so she was given the responsibility of dressing up the church for the occasion. Admittedly* Jordan had gotten a little carried away. She’d put flowers everywhere* both inside and outside the church. Raspberry pink roses and creamy white magnolias lined the stone walkway* their lovely scent greeting guests as they arrived. Pink and white roses delicately intertwined with baby’s breath in large wreaths with wide* lace-trimmed satin ribbons hung down on each side of the old weathered double doors. Jordan had actually considered giving the doors a fresh coat of paint but at the last minute had come to her senses and left them alone.
Kate had also asked Jordan to take care of the music* and Jordan had gone a little overboard on that assignment too. She’d started out with the notion of hiring a pianist and a singer for the ceremony and ended up with an orchestra. There were violins* a piano* a flute* and two trumpets. Seated in the balcony* the musicians played Mozart to entertain the gathering celebrants. When the groomsmen lined up in front of the altar* the music was to stop; the trumpets would then sound* the crowd would rise to their feet* and the pomp and splendor would begin.
The bride and bridesmaids waited in a dressing room just off the vestibule. The time had come. The trumpets should now be playing to begin the ceremony* but they were silent. Kate sent Jordan to find out what the delay was.
Mozart’s lovely notes covered the noise of the door squeaking as Jordan peeked inside the church. She spotted one of the federal agents standing in an alcove on the left side of the church and tried not to think about the reason he was there. The bodyguards weren’t really necessary* she thought* considering all the law enforcement professionals in her family. Of her six brothers* two were FBI agents* one was a federal attorney* one was a Navy SEAL in training* one was a cop* and the youngest* Zachary* was in college and hadn’t yet decided which side of the law looked more appealing to him. Also standing at the altar would be Noah Clayborne* a close friend of the family and yet another FBI agent.
The agents assigned to her father didn’t care how many others there were. Their job was clearly defined* and they wouldn’t be distracted by the celebration. Jordan finally decided that they were a comfort* not a hindrance* and she should focus on the wedding and stop worrying.
She spotted one of her brothers slowly making his way toward the back of the church. It was Alec* Dylan’s best man. She smiled as she watched him approach. Alec had gone all out for the wedding. He worked undercover* but he’d cut his hair for the occasion* an impressive consideration on his part to be sure. His job usually required that he dress and look like a deranged serial killer. Jordan had barely recognized him when he arrived at the rehearsal the night before. Now Alec stopped to speak to one of the bodyguards. She waved to get his attention and motioned for him to step out to the vestibule.
As the door closed behind him* she asked in a whisper* “Why aren’t we starting? It’s time.”
“Dylan sent me back to tell Kate that we’ll start in a couple of minutes*” he answered.
Alec’s collar was partially inverted* and she reached up to fix it. “Your collar’s folded over*” she said before he could ask. “Quit squirming.”
When she had finished with the collar and straightened his tie* she stepped back. Alec cleaned up nice* she thought. The funny thing was* Regan* his wife* loved him however he looked. Love did weird things to people* Jordan decided.
“Is Kate worried that Dylan will take off?” Alec asked with a glint in his eye that told her he was joking. They were only a couple of minutes late now.
“Not really*” Jordan answered. “She left five minutes ago.”
He shook his head. “Not funny*” he said* grinning. “I’ve got to get back.”
“Wait. You still haven’t explained why we’re waiting. Is something wrong?”
“Stop worrying. Nothing’s wrong.” He was about to go back inside but suddenly stopped. “Jordan?”
“Yes?”
“You look nice.”
It would have been a lovely compliment from a brother who never gave compliments if Alec himself hadn’t looked so surprised by his observation.
She was about to return the favor when the outer church doors flew open* and Noah Clayborne came rushing inside tying his tie.
The man never failed to make a strong impression. Women loved him* and Jordan had to admit she could understand his appeal. Tall* athletic* outgoing* handsome—he was a man’s man and a woman’s fantasy. His sandy blond hair was always slightly in need of a trim* and his piercing blue eyes sparkled with mischief whenever he gave one of his devilish grins.
“Am I late?” he asked.
“No* it’s good*” Alec said. “Okay* Jordan* we can start now.”
“Where have you been?” she asked Noah* exasperated.
Rather than answering* he gave her a quick once-over* smiled* and followed Alec inside. Jordan felt like throwing her hands up. He’d been with a woman* she decided. The man was incorrigible.
She should have been peeved* but instead she laughed. To be that free* that uninhibited…Jordan couldn’t imagine what that would feel like. But Noah certainly knew the feeling.
Jordan hurried back to the waiting room* pushed the door open* and said* “It’s time.”
Kate motioned for Jordan to come to her. “What was the hold-up?” she asked.
“Noah. He just got here. If I had to guess* I’d say he was with a woman.”
“That’s not a guess*” Kate whispered. “It’s a given. I had no idea what a playboy he was until I saw it for myself. He disappeared from the rehearsal dinner last night with three of my bridesmaids* and all three looked like they hadn’t slept when they got to the church this morning.”
Jordan crossed her arms as she looked around the room* trying to decide which of the bridesmaids had disappeared with Noah. “Shame on him*” she remarked.
“Oh* it wasn’t all his fault*” Kate replied. “They went willingly.”
Kate’s aunt Nora announced that they weren’t going anywhere until they heard the trumpets* and then she began to line everyone up.
Kate motioned Jordan closer. “I need to ask a favor. It’s kind of a tough one.”
Difficult or not* it didn’t matter. Kate had been there through thick and thin for Jordan* and Jordan would do anything she could to help her.
“You name it. I’ll do it*” she said.
“Would you please make Noah behave?”
Okay* maybe not anything. Jordan took a breath and whispered* “You’re asking the impossible. Trying to control him is laughable. It would be easier to teach a bear to use a computer. Give me that assignment* and I promise I’ll give it my all. But Noah? Come on* Kate…”
“Actually* it’s just Isabel I’m concerned about. Did you see the way she glued herself to his side at the rehearsal?”
“Is that why you paired me with him in the wedding? To keep your little sister away from him?”
“No*” she said. “But after seeing Isabel in action last night* I’m glad I did. I can’t blame her. Noah’s adorable. Aside from Dylan* of course* I think he’s one of the sexiest men I’ve ever met. He oozes charisma* doesn’t he?”
Jordan nodded. “Oh* yes.”
“I don’t want Isabel to become another NCG*” she said. “And I don’t want any more of my wedding party to disappear suddenly.”
“What is an NCG?” she asked.
Kate grinned. “A Noah Clayborne Groupie.”
Jordan burst into laughter.
“You’re the only person I know who seems to be immune to his charms. He treats you like a sister.”
Aunt Nora clapped her hands. “Okay* everyone. It’s time to go.”
Kate grabbed Jordan’s arm. “I’m not budging until you promise.”
“Oh* all right. I’ll do it.”
The trumpets sounded again. Since Jordan was to be the first to walk down the aisle* she was nervous and clutched her bouquet to her waist with both hands. She’d always been known as the family klutz* but she was determined not to trip over her own feet today. She would pay attention and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.
She waited in the center of the doorway until she heard Aunt Nora whisper* “Go.”
She took a deep breath and started walking. The aisle seemed a mile long. Standing in front of the altar* Noah waited. When she was halfway there* he came toward her* looking amazing in his tuxedo. She relaxed. No one was paying her any attention. Every eye—at least every female eye—was on Noah.
She concentrated on his smile and took hold of his arm. For a brief second she looked into his eyes and saw the mischievous glimmer.
Oh* Lord* she had her work cut out for her.

T HE CEREMONY WAS BEAUTIFUL. TEARS ROLLED DOWN JORDAN’S cheeks when her brother and her best friend exchanged vows. She thought no one had noticed her red eyes* but when she took hold of Noah’s arm while walking out of the church* he leaned down to her and whispered* “Crybaby.”
Of course he’d noticed. He never missed anything.
After additional photos were taken* the attendants were separated* and Jordan ended up riding to the reception with the bride and groom. She could have been riding on the hood of the car* for all they noticed. They only had eyes for each other.
Kate and Dylan had entered the country club ahead of everyone else* and Jordan stood outside on the steps waiting for the rest of the wedding party to come up the circle drive to join her.
It was a beautiful evening* but there was a slight chill in the air* which was unusual for this time of year in South Carolina. The ballroom’s French doors were opened to the side terrace. Tables had already been prepared with long white linen tablecloths topped with candles and centerpieces of roses and hydrangeas. Jordan knew the reception was going to be fabulous* the food exceptional—she’d gotten to taste some of Kate’s selections—and the band superb. Jordan didn’t plan on doing much dancing* though. It had been a long day* and she was running out of steam. A cool breeze swept across the veranda and made her shiver. She rubbed her bare arms to ward off the chill. She loved the pale pink strapless gown she was wearing* but it definitely wasn’t designed to keep a body warm.
The cold wasn’t the only thing bothering her. Her contact lenses were driving her crazy. Fortunately* she’d tucked her glasses into Noah’s tuxedo jacket along with her lens case and lipstick. Too bad she hadn’t thought to shove a cardigan in there.
She heard laughter and turned just in time to see Kate’s younger sister* Isabel* take hold of Noah’s arm and lean into his side. Oh* brother* here we go.
Isabel was a blond* blue-eyed beauty* but then so was Noah. Isabel’s coloring was quite similar to his* and though he towered over her* they could have been related. Now that’s a creepy thought* Jordan decided* since Isabel was blatantly flirting with him. She was such an innocent. Noah wasn’t. Kate’s sister was a very young nineteen* and from the way she was staring up at Noah with such adoration in her eyes* it was apparent she was already under his spell. To his credit* Noah wasn’t encouraging her. In fact* he wasn’t paying much attention to her at all. Instead* he was intently listening to Zachary* the youngest Buchanan.
“Gotcha.”
Jordan hadn’t heard anyone approaching and flinched in reaction. Her brother Michael poked her in her side and was now standing beside her grinning like an idiot. When he was a child* he loved to sneak up on her and their sister* Sidney* and scare the be-jesus out of them. He had lived for a good scream back then. She thought he’d outgrown the horrid behavior* but apparently he sometimes regressed when he was around her. Come to think of it* all of her older brothers regressed when they were around her.
“What are you doing out here?” Michael asked.
“Waiting.”
“That much is obvious. Who or what are you waiting for?”
“The other bridesmaids* but mostly Isabel. I’m supposed to keep her away from Noah.”
Michael turned and took in the scene at the bottom of the steps. Isabel was practically glued to Noah. He grinned. “How’s that working out?”
“So far so good.”
He laughed while watching Isabel. She’d finally managed to get Noah’s full attention. Her face was flushed.
“What we have here is a three-way*” Michael surmised.
“Excuse me?”
“Look at them*” he said. “Isabel’s all starry-eyed over Noah; Zachary’s all starry-eyed over Isabel; and from the scary look on that woman over there watching Noah like a cougar waiting for dinner* I’d have to say she’s a mite more than starry-eyed.” Michael shrugged as he added* “Actually it’s a four-way.”
“This is not a three-way* a four-way* or a ten-way*” Jordan argued.
“I believe ten-ways would be called orgies. Ever heard of those?”
She was not about to let him bait her. Zachary had her full attention now. He was doing his best to get Isabel to notice him. Jordan wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started doing backflips.
“That’s just sad*” Jordan said* shaking her head.
“Zack?”
She nodded.
“I can’t blame him*” Michael said. “Isabel’s got the whole package. The body* the face…without a doubt* she is—”
“Nineteen* Michael. She’s nineteen.”
“Yeah* I know. She’s too young for Noah and me* and she thinks she’s too old for Zachary.”
A car carrying their parents pulled up to the entrance to the club. Jordan noticed that a bodyguard made sure he was directly behind the judge as they made their way toward the stairs. Another bodyguard rushed up the stairs ahead of him.
Michael nudged Jordan and said* “You don’t need to be worrying about the bodyguards.”
“You aren’t worried?”
“Maybe a little. The thing is* the trial’s gone on for so long now* I’ve gotten used to our father with his shadows. It will all be over in a couple of weeks after the sentencing.” He nudged her again. “Put all that out of your mind tonight* okay?”
“Yes* okay*” she promised* even as she wondered how she was going to do it.
“You should start celebrating*” he said when she continued to look worried. “You’re footloose and fancy-free now that you’ve sold your company and made all us stockholders rich. You can do anything in the world you want.”
“What if I don’t know what I want?”
“You’ll figure it out in time*” he said. “You’ll probably stay in computers* don’t you think?”
Jordan didn’t know what she would do. She supposed she would be wasting her degrees if she didn’t continue working with computers in some capacity. She was one of a very few women to excel in computer innovation. She had started out with a large corporation* but she’d ended up forming her own company* and with her family’s investment* she’d turned it into a huge success. She had spent the last several years working nonstop. However* when another company offered to buy her out at a phenomenal price* she didn’t hesitate to sell. She was restless and ready for a change.
She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll do some consulting work*” she said.
“I know you’ve had a lot of offers*” Michael said* “but take some time* Jordan* before you jump into something else. Kick back and relax. Have some fun.”
Tonight was about Dylan and Kate* she reminded herself. She could worry about her future tomorrow.
Noah was taking forever to walk up the stairs. He kept getting waylaid by family and friends.
“Why don’t you go inside?” Michael urged. “And stop worrying about Noah. He knows how young Isabel is. He’s not going to do anything inappropriate.”
Michael was right about Noah* but Jordan couldn’t say the same for Isabel.
“Go and get her* will you? Bring her inside.”
She didn’t have to ask twice. Her brother was halfway across the veranda before the doorman had opened the door for her.
Jordan didn’t have to be a watchdog after all. Noah was a perfect gentleman* just as Michael had predicted he would be. However* there were several rather persistent young women who couldn’t keep their hands off him* and he certainly didn’t seem to mind the attention. Since they were all over the age of twenty-one* Jordan figured they knew what they were doing.
Noah’s virtuous behavior freed her from her responsibilities* and she actually began to enjoy herself. By nine o’clock she had had it with her contacts though. She found Noah* who still had her glasses and her lens case in his jacket pocket. He was on the dance floor with a platinum blonde swaying to the slow music. Jordan interrupted long enough to get her lens case and then headed for the ladies’ room.
There was a commotion in the foyer. The strangest-looking man was arguing with the country club’s security detail. They in turn were strongly urging him to leave* but he was having none of it. One of the federal agents had already patted him down to make certain he wasn’t carrying a weapon.
“It’s unheard of to treat a guest the way I’m being treated*” he blustered. “I’m telling you Miss Isabel MacKenna will be happy to see me. I’ve misplaced my invitation* that’s all* but I assure you I was invited.”
He spotted Jordan walking toward him and gave her a bright smile. One of his front teeth crossed over the other and protruded just enough to make his upper lip catch whenever he spoke.
She didn’t know whether she should interfere. He was acting so peculiar. He kept snapping his fingers and bobbing his head as though he were agreeing with someone* but no one was talking to him now. His clothing was bizarre too. Though it was the shank of the summer* the stranger wore a heavy wool tweed blazer with leather elbow patches. Needless to say* he was sweating profusely. His unruly beard was soaked through. There were streaks of gray in his beard* but she honestly couldn’t judge how old he was. He was clutching an old leather folder to his chest* and there were papers sticking out every which way.
“May I be of assistance?” she asked.
“Are you with the MacKenna wedding party?”
“Yes* I am.”
His smile widened as he tucked the thick folder under his arm and dug into his plaid wool vest pocket. He pulled out a wrinkled and stained card and handed it to her.
“I’m Professor Horace Athens MacKenna*” he proudly announced. He waited until she had read his name on the card and then snatched it away from her and tucked it back in his vest pocket. He patted the pocket several times as he continued to smile at her.
The security detail had backed away but were warily watching him. No wonder—Professor MacKenna was a bit odd.
“I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to be here.” He extended his hand and added* “This is a momentous occasion. A MacKenna marrying a Buchanan. It’s stunning. Yes* stunning.” He chuckled as he added* “I imagine our MacKenna ancestors are twisting and turning in their graves.”
“I’m not a MacKenna*” she said. “My name is Jordan Buchanan.”
He didn’t rip his hand away from hers* but he came close. His smile disappeared* and he seemed to recoil. “Buchanan? You’re a Buchanan?”
“Yes* that’s right.”
“All right*” he said. “All right then. It is a wedding of a MacKenna to a Buchanan. Of course I would be meeting Buchanans. Stands to reason* doesn’t it?”
She was having trouble following. Professor MacKenna’s accent was thick and most unusual* a combination of a Scottish brogue and a southern drawl.
“I’m sorry. Did you say the MacKenna ancestors would be turning in their graves?” she asked* certain she’d misunderstood.
“Yes* that’s what I said* dearie.”
Dearie? He was getting stranger by the second.
“I imagine the Buchanans would be doing a fair amount of tossing in their unholy graves too*” he continued.
“And why would that be?”
“The feud* of course.”
“The feud? I don’t understand. What feud?”
He whipped out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m getting ahead of myself. You must think I’m crazy.”
Yes* that was exactly what she was thinking.
Fortunately* he didn’t require a response to his statement. “I’m parched*” he announced. He tilted his head toward the ballroom she had just exited. “I could use some refreshment.”
“Yes* of course. Please* come with me.”
He latched on to her arm and glanced suspiciously over his shoulder as they walked. “I’m a history professor at FranklinCollege in Texas. Have you heard of Franklin?”
“No*” she admitted. “I haven’t.”
“It’s a fine school. It’s located just outside Austin. I teach medieval history* or at least I did until I came into some unexpected money and decided to take some time off. A sabbatical of sorts. You see*” he continued* “about fifteen years ago I began researching my family history. It’s been a most invigorating hobby for me. Did you know that there’s bad blood between us?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Bad blood between the Buchanans and the MacKennas* I mean to say. This wedding should never have taken place if history tells us anything.”
“Because of a feud?”
“That’s right* dearie.”
Okay* it was official* she decided. The man was wacko. She was suddenly thankful the agent had checked him for hidden weapons* and she was uneasy about taking him into the ballroom* especially if he was intent on making a scene. On the other hand* he did seem harmless* and he did know Isabel…at least he said he did.
“About Isabel*” she began* determined to find out how the professor knew Kate’s sister.
He was too caught up in his story to listen.
“The feud has been going on for centuries* and every time I think I’ve gotten to the root of it* lo and behold* I find another contradiction.” He vigorously nodded several times and then darted another quick glance behind him as if fearful that someone would sneak up on him. “I’m proud to say I’ve tracked the feud all the way back to the thirteenth century*” he boasted.
As soon as he paused to take a breath* Jordan suggested they find Isabel.
“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you*” she said. Or appalled* she thought silently.
They continued along the corridor and entered the ballroom just as a waiter was passing by with a silver tray of champagne flutes. The professor took a glass* gulped the drink down* and hurriedly reached for another.
“My* that’s refreshing. Is there food?” he asked bluntly.
“Yes* of course. Come* we’ll find you a seat at one of the tables.”
“Thank you*” he said* but he didn’t budge. “About Miss MacKenna…” His gaze circled the ballroom as he said* “I haven’t actually met the woman. In fact* you’ll have to point her out to me. I’ve been corresponding with her for some time now* but I have no idea what she looks like. I know that she’s young and that she’s in college*” he added. He gave Jordan a sly look and said* “I imagine you’re wondering how I found her in the first place* aren’t you?”
Before she could answer* he shifted the fat folder from one arm to the other and motioned to a waiter to bring him another drink.
“I make it a habit to read every newspaper I can get my hands on. I like to keep current*” he explained. “Of course* I read the major papers on the Internet. I read everything from political events to obituaries* and I do retain most of what I read*” he boasted. “It’s true. I never forget anything. It’s how my brain works. I’ve also been tracing my family history* and tied to my history is the ownership of Glen MacKenna. I found out through court records that Miss MacKenna will inherit the magnificent land in just a few years.”
Jordan nodded. “I’ve heard that Isabel’s great-uncle left her a sizable peace of land in Scotland.”
“Not just any land* dearie* Glen MacKenna*” he scolded. He sounded like a professor now* lecturing one of his students. “The land is tied to the feud* and the feud is tied to the land. The Buchanans and the MacKennas have been at war for centuries. I don’t know what the exact origin of the dispute was* but it has something to do with a treasure that was stolen from the glen by the vile Buchanans* and I’m determined to find out what it was and when it was taken.”
Jordan ignored the insult to her ancestors as she pulled out a chair for the professor at the nearest table. He dropped his folder down* and said* “Miss MacKenna has shown quite an interest in my research* so much so that I’ve invited her to come and see me. I couldn’t possibly bring everything with me* you see. I’ve been doing this research for years.”
He looked expectantly at her. She assumed he wanted some sort of response* and so she nodded and asked* “Where do you live* Professor?”
“In the middle of nowhere.” He grinned after making the statement and explained. “Because of my financial situation…my inheritance*” he corrected* “I’ve been able to move to a peaceful little town called Serenity deep in Texas. I spend my days reading and researching*” he added. “I enjoy the solitude* and the town is really an oasis. It would be a charming spot to retire to* but I will probably go back to where I was born* Scotland.”
“Oh? You’re going home to Scotland?” Jordan scanned the room for Isabel.
“Yes* that’s right. I want to visit all the places I’ve read about. I don’t remember them.” He pointed to the folder. “I’ve written down some of our history for Miss MacKenna to read. Most of the heartache the MacKenna clan has had to endure has been the fault of the Buchanan clan*” he said* wagging his finger in her face. “You might want to have a peek at my research too* but I’ll warn you* chasing these legends and trying to get to the bottom of things can become an obsession. On the other hand* it is also a delightful distraction from the humdrum of everyday life. Why* it could even become a passion.”
Passion indeed. As a mathematician and a computer engineer* Jordan dealt with facts and abstracts* not fantasy. She could design any business plan and the computer software to go with it. She loved solving puzzles. She couldn’t think of anything that was more of a waste of time than chasing down legends* but she wasn’t about to get into a lengthy discussion with the professor. She was going to find Isabel as quickly as possible. After settling Professor MacKenna at a table with a plate of food in front of him* she started her search.
Isabel was outside and just about to sit down when Jordan grabbed her.
“Come with me*” she said. “Your friend Professor MacKenna has arrived. You get to take care of him.”
“He’s here? He came here?” Isabel looked astonished.
“You didn’t invite him?”
She shook her head. Then she changed her mind. “Wait. I might have invited him* but not formally. I mean he wasn’t on the list. We’ve been communicating with each other* and I mentioned where the wedding and reception were being held because he wrote that he was touring the Carolinas and would be in this area around this time. He actually showed up? What’s he like?”
Jordan smiled. “He’s difficult to describe. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”
Isabel followed Jordan inside. “Did he tell you about the treasure?”
“A little*” she answered.
“What about the feud? Did he tell you about the Buchanans and the MacKennas fighting all the time? The feud’s been going on for centuries. Since I’m inheriting Glen MacKenna* I want to know as much as possible about the history.”
“You sound enthusiastic*” Jordan said.
“I am. I’ve already decided I’m going to be a history major* and I’ll minor in music. Did the professor bring any of his research with him? He wrote that he had boxes and boxes…”
“He has a folder with him.”
“But what about the boxes?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”
The professor showed better manners with Isabel. He stood and shook her hand.
“It’s a great honor to meet the new owner of Glen MacKenna. When I get to Scotland I will be certain to tell my clansmen that I’ve met you* and that you’re as bonny a lass as I thought you would be.”
He turned to Jordan then and said* “I’ll also be telling them about you.”
It wasn’t what he said but how he said it that pricked her curiosity.
“Me?”
“The Buchanans*” he corrected. “You do know that Kate MacKenna married beneath her.”
He’d raised her ire with that remark. “And why is that?” she asked.
“Why* the Buchanans are savages. That’s why.” He pointed to the folder and said* “In here is just a sample of some of the atrocities against the peace-loving MacKennas. You should read it and then you’ll understand how fortunate your relative is to be married to a MacKenna.”
“Professor* are you intentionally insulting Jordan?” Isabel asked* shocked.
“She’s a Buchanan*” he said. “I’m simply stating the facts.”
“Just how accurate is your research?” Jordan folded her arms across her chest and frowned at the rude man.
“I’m a historian*” he snapped. “I deal in facts. I’ll grant you that some of the stories could be…legends…but there’s quite a bit of research to make the stories credible.”
“As a historian you believe you have proof that the MacKennas are all saints and the Buchanans are all sinners?”
“I know it sounds slanted* but the proof is indisputable. Read it*” he challenged once again* “and you can only come to one conclusion.”
“That the Buchanans are savages?”
“I’m afraid so*” he said cheerfully. “They’re thieves as well*” he added. “They’ve chipped away at the MacKenna land until Glen MacKenna is barely half the size it used to be. And of course they stole the treasure too.”
“The treasure that started the feud*” Jordan said* letting her irritation show.
He gave her a sly grin and then dismissed her as he turned to Isabel. “I couldn’t travel with all the boxes* and I’ll have to put them in storage when I leave for Scotland. If you want to look through them* you’d best come to Texas within the next two weeks.”
“You’re leaving in two weeks? But I start school* and I…” She stopped* took a breath* and blurted* “I can miss the first week.”
Jordan stopped her. “Isabel* you can’t miss an entire week. You’ll need to get your class schedule and your books…you can’t go running off to Texas. Why can’t the professor e-mail the research files to you?”
“Most of my research is handwritten* and I’ve only put a few dates and names on my computer. I could send those* and I will as soon as I get back home* but without my papers* none of it will make sense to you.”
“What about mailing the boxes?” Jordan suggested.
“Oh* no* I could never do that*” he said. “The expense…”
“We’ll pay for shipping*” Jordan offered.
“I don’t trust the mail. Those boxes could get lost* and that’s years of research. No* no* I won’t risk it. You’ll have to come to Texas* Isabel. Perhaps when I come back…although…”
“Yes?” Isabel asked* thinking he had come up with a solution.
“I might decide to stay in Scotland* depending on my finances* and if I do* my research materials will stay in storage until I’m ready to return for them. If you wish to read what I’ve accumulated* it’s now or never*” he asserted.
“Could you have someone photocopy the files?” Isabel asked.
“I have no one to do it for me* and I simply don’t have the time. I’m getting ready for my trip. You’ll have to make the copies yourself when you come.”
Isabel let out a huge sigh of frustration* and Jordan* seeing how important this was to her* felt sympathy for her dilemma. As irritated as she was that the professor had created a biased record against her ancestors* she was sorry that Isabel wouldn’t get to learn more about the history of her land.
“I might decide to do a little research on my own*” Jordan said as she stood to leave Isabel and the professor to finish their discussion.
The obnoxious man had gotten under her skin* and she was determined to dig up a few facts to prove him wrong. The Buchanans were all savages? What kind of a history professor would make such a blanket statement? Just how credible was he? Was he really a history professor? Jordan was definitely going to check him out.
“Perhaps I’ll prove the Buchanans were the saints*” she asserted.
“That’s hardly possible* dearie. My research is impeccable.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she walked away. “We’ll see.”

I T WAS AFTER TEN BEFORE JORDAN FINALLY HAD A CHANCE TO remove her contacts. She walked back to the ballroom and stood near the entrance trying to spot Noah in the crowd on the dance floor. He still had her glasses in his pocket.
Professor MacKenna had left the reception an hour before* and Isabel had apologized profusely for his rude behavior. Jordan told her not to worry* that she hadn’t been offended* and she left Isabel fretting about the boxes of research. Jordan thought about offering to help her out but changed her mind. Even though she was* as Michael reminded her* fancy-free these days and was curious to read some of his likely bogus research* doing so meant she would have to suffer more of the professor’s company. No* thank you. Nothing was worth spending even one hour with that man.
“What’s got you frowning?”
Her brother Nick asked the question as he sauntered over to her.
“I’m not frowning. I’m squinting. Noah has my glasses. Do you see him?”
“Yeah. He’s right in front of you.”
She focused in* spotted him* and then did frown. “Look at those silly women panting all over your partner. It’s disgusting.”
“You think?”
“I think*” she replied. “Promise me something.”
“Yes?”
“If I ever act like that* you’ll shoot me.”
“Be happy to*” Nick promised before laughing at her.
Noah had excused himself from his fan club and walked over to join them.
“What’s so funny?”
“Jordan wants me to shoot her.”
Noah glanced down at her* and for a second or two she had his full* undivided attention.
“I’ll do it*” he offered
There was a little too much glee in his voice to suit her. She had just decided to walk away from the two of them when she spotted Dan Robbins heading her way. At least she thought it was Dan. He was too blurry to be sure. She’d had one dance with Dan earlier in the evening* and no matter what music was playing* whether it was a waltz* a tango* or hip-hop* Dan bounced to his own tune in something that resembled a spasmodic version of a polka. Jordan changed her mind and stayed put. She moved a little closer to Noah and smiled at him. The ploy seemed to work. Dan hesitated and then turned away.
“Don’t you want to know why she wants me to shoot her?” Nick asked.
“I already know why*” Noah said. “She’s bored.”
She slipped her hand into his pocket* found her glasses* and put them on.
“I am not bored.”
“Yes* you are*” Noah said.
He was looking over her head when he spoke to her. She suspected he did it on purpose just to irritate her.
“He’s right*” Nick said. “You have to be bored. All you had was your company* and since you sold everything…”
“Your point?”
Nick shrugged. “You’ve got to be bored.”
“Just because I don’t like the same things you two do doesn’t mean I’m bored or unhappy. I have a wonderful social life and—”
Noah cut her off. “Dead people have a better social life.”
Nick agreed. “You really don’t have much fun* do you?”
“Of course I do. I enjoy reading and…”
They were both grinning at her. They were obnoxious clowns* and she was about to tell them so when Nick said* “You do like a good book. What was it you were reading a couple of days ago?”
“I don’t remember. I read lots of books.”
“I do*” Noah said* his voice gratingly cheerful. “Nick and Dylan and I had just gotten back from fishing* and you were sitting on the deck reading the complete works of Stephen Hawking.”
“It was riveting.”
They had a good laugh over her defensive comment. “Stop making fun of me and go away. Both of you.”
Her timing could have been better. As soon as she told them to leave* she spotted Dan approaching her again. She grabbed hold of Noah’s arm. She was sure he knew what she was doing and why—he’d have to be blind not to notice Dan strolling toward them—but he didn’t say anything about it.
“Your sister lives in a box*” said Noah.
Nick agreed. “Jordan* when was the last time you did anything just for fun?”
“I do lots of things for fun.”
“Let me qualify that question. When did you do anything fun that didn’t involve computers or computer chips or software?”
She opened her mouth to answer and then closed it. She couldn’t think of anything* but surely that was only because she was under pressure.
“Have you ever done anything impractical?” Noah asked.
“Where’s the logic in that?” she asked.
Noah turned to Nick. “Is she serious?”
“Afraid so*” Nick answered. “Before my sister would ever consider doing anything on the spur of the moment* she would have to first analyze all the data* then figure the statistical probabilities of success…”
The two men were having a fine time tormenting her and would have continued if their employer* Dr. Peter Morganstern* hadn’t joined them. He carried a plate with two pieces of wedding cake.
Morganstern had become a good friend of the family and wouldn’t have missed the wedding for anything in the world. Jordan liked and admired him. He was a brilliant forensic psychiatrist who ran a highly specialized unit within the FBI. They called it the lost-and-found department. Her brother Nick and Noah were part of Morganstern’s program. Among their responsibilities was finding lost and exploited children* and Jordan believed they were a substantial reason for the program’s success.
“You three seem to be enjoying yourselves.”
“How do you stand working with them?” Jordan asked.
“There are moments when I question my sanity. Especially with this one*” he said* tilting his head toward Noah.
“Sir* I’m sorry you and your wife got stuck at the same table with our aunt Iris*” Nick said. “Did she find out you were a doctor?”
“I’m afraid so* yes.”
“Iris is an obsessive hypochondriac*” he explained to Noah.
“What are the odds the doctor would get stuck sitting next to her?” Noah asked.
Everyone turned toward Morganstern’s table where Aunt Iris sat.
“One chance in one hundred seventy-nine thousand seven hundred*” Jordan answered before she could stop herself.
The men turned back to look at her.
Astonished* the doctor asked* “Is that an exact number or a guess?”
“An exact number based on six hundred guests*” she said. “I never guess.”
“Does she do this kind of stuff all the time?” Noah wondered aloud.
“Pretty much*” Nick answered.
“Just because I have a mind for math—”
“But with no common sense*” Nick finished.
“I could certainly use you on my team*” Morganstern said. “If you ever consider a change in careers* come work for me.”
“No*” Nick said emphatically.
“Absolutely not*” Noah said at the same time.
The doctor turned his head toward Jordan and gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I wouldn’t put her in the field right away. Like you two* she would need extensive training.” He looked as though he was pondering the possibility for a second or two* and then said* “I’ve got a good feeling about Jordan. I believe she’d be an asset to the unit.”
“Sir* isn’t there a rule against two members of the same family working together?”
“I don’t have that rule*” Morganstern said. “I wouldn’t make her go through the academy. I’d train her myself.”
Noah looked appalled. “Sir* it still isn’t a good idea*” he insisted while Nick vigorously nodded agreement.
Exasperated* Jordan turned to Noah and said* “Listen* Mister Buttinsky. This isn’t your decision. It’s mine.”
The doctor seemed fascinated by Noah’s reaction to his proposal.
“Would I get to carry a gun?” she asked.
“A gun is out of the question*” Nick said.
“You’re too uncoordinated and you’re blind as a bat*” Noah interjected. “You’d shoot yourself*” he predicted.
She smiled at Morganstern. “It was lovely talking to you. Now* if you’ll excuse me* I’d like to get away from these two cretins.”
Noah grabbed her arm. “Come on. Dance with me.”
Since he was already dragging her toward the dance floor* she felt it would be pointless to argue. The bride had coaxed her sister into singing. Isabel had the most wonderful voice* and when she began to sing Kate’s favorite ballad* a hush fell over the crowd. Young and old* they were all mesmerized by her.
Noah pulled Jordan into his arms and held her tight against him. She had to admit it wasn’t completely unpleasant. She did like the feel of his hard body pressed against hers. She liked his scent too. Whatever he was wearing was ruggedly sexy.
He was looking over the top of her head when he asked* “You wouldn’t really consider working for the doctor* would you?”
He actually sounded a little worried. She couldn’t resist provoking him just a little. “Only if I get to work with you.”
He smiled as he shook his head. “Not gonna happen. And you can’t really be serious* right?”
“Right*” she agreed. “I wouldn’t consider working for Doctor Morganstern. Happy now?”
“I’m always happy.”
She rolled her eyes. Oh* brother. The ego. “By the way*” she said* “Doctor Morganstern wasn’t serious. He was teasing to get a rise out of you and Nick. It worked too. You did get riled.”
“The doctor never teases* and I never get riled.”
“Okay* even if he wasn’t teasing* I still wouldn’t consider working for him.”
He flashed a smile* and for a fleeting second she forgot how irritating he could be.
“I didn’t think you would be interested.”
Annoyed* she asked* “Then why are we having this conversation? If you knew the answer* why did you ask?”
“Just making sure. That’s all.”
They swayed to the music for a good half a minute* and she was actually feeling relaxed when he ruined it.
“You’d be terrible at it* by the way.”
“It?”
“The job.”
“How would you know if I’d be good or bad?”
“You live in a comfort zone. That’s how I know.”
“I’ll bite. What’s a comfort zone?”
“It’s where you live. You never step outside your safe environment* your comfort zone*” he explained. “You stay in the shadows.” Before she could object* he said* “I’ll bet you’ve never done anything in your entire life that was spontaneous* or taken any risks.”
“I’ve taken plenty of risks in the past year alone.”
“Yeah? Name one.”
“I sold my company.”
“That was a calculated decision and you netted a huge profit*” he countered. “What else?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of running. I thought I’d try for the Boston Marathon next year*” she offered.
“It’s a regimen* requires discipline. Plus* you do it to stay fit*” he argued.
He wasn’t looking over her head now. He was staring into her eyes* and he was making her extremely uncomfortable. For the life of her* she couldn’t think of a single spontaneous action or risk she’d ever taken. Everything she did was well thought out and planned down to the last detail. Was her life really that boring? Was she that boring?
“Having trouble coming up with one?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being careful.” Great* now she sounded like a ninety-year-old.
He looked like he was about to laugh. “You’re right*” he said. “Nothing wrong with being careful.”
Embarrassed because she had only just realized how dull she was* and guessing that he had already figured that out about her as well* she hurriedly changed the subject to get the focus off of herself. She blurted out the first thought that came into her mind.
“Isabel has a great voice* doesn’t she? I could listen to her all night. Did you know she’s been hounded by agents wanting to make her a star? She’s not interested though. She’s only a freshman* but she’s already decided she wants to be a history major* then get her master’s and teach. Interesting* don’t you think? She’s giving up fame and fortune. I think that’s amazing* don’t you?”
Noah gave her a piercing smile that went right through her* but he looked puzzled as well. No wonder. She was babbling like a toddler. She knew she should stop talking* but she couldn’t seem to make herself close her mouth. Thanks to his scrutiny she had a bad* bad case of nerves.
For the love of God* Isabel* wind it up. Enough already.
“And did you know that in a few years Isabel is going to inherit land in Scotland? It’s called Glen MacKenna*” she rushed on. “She invited the strangest little man to the wedding and the reception. I just met him* and he has all the information he’s collected in boxes in Texas. He’s a professor* you see* and he’s done quite a lot of research on a feud that he says has existed for centuries between the Buchanans and the MacKennas. According to the professor* Dylan and Kate should never have gotten married. There’s a legend about a treasure too. It’s fascinating* really it is.”
She finally had to pause to take a breath or she’d pass out.
He stopped dancing for a few seconds and then asked* “Do I make you nervous?”
Duh.
“When you stare at me you do. I’d appreciate it if you would go back to being rude and stare over my head when you speak to me. That is why you do it* isn’t it? To be rude?”
His face lit up. “And to irritate you.”
“It works. You do irritate me.”
Would Isabel never finish the song? She was taking forever. Jordan smiled nonchalantly at the couples gliding by as she wished for the dance to end. It would be rude to just walk away* wouldn’t it?
Noah nudged her chin up with his index finger and looked squarely at her. “May I make a suggestion?” he asked.
“Sure*” she said. “Suggest away.”
“You ought to think about getting into the game.”
She sighed. “What game would that be?”
“Life.”
Apparently he wasn’t through giving her suggestions on ways to improve her dull existence.
“Do you know the difference between you and me?” he asked.
“I can think of more than a thousand differences.”
“I eat the dessert.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“Only that life’s too short. Sometimes you just have to eat dessert first.”
She knew where this was going. “I get it. I watch life while you live it. I know you think I should do something spontaneous instead of always planning everything out* but for your information* I’m already doing something spontaneous.”
“Yeah?” he asked* and the challenge was there in his voice. “What’s that?”
“Spontaneous*” she stalled.
“And what would that be?”
She knew he didn’t believe her. Come hell or high water* she was determined to do something spontaneous* even if it killed her. The satisfaction of wiping that arrogant know-it-all grin off his face would be worth any sacrifice* even if it wasn’t logical.
“I’m going to Texas*” she said* enforcing her decision with a nod.
“What for?” he asked.
“Why am I going to Texas?” She didn’t have the faintest idea at first* but fortunately* she was a quick thinker. Before he could say another word* she answered her own question.
“I’m going on a treasure hunt.”

P AUL NEWTON PRUITT LOVED WOMEN. HE LOVED EVERYTHING about them: their soft* smooth skin; their feminine scent; the luxurious feel of their silky hair brushing over his chest; the erotic sounds they made when he touched them. He loved their infectious laughter* their stimulating screams of delight.
He didn’t discriminate. The color of their hair or the color of their eyes or their skin—he loved them all. Tall* short* thin* fat. It didn't matter. They were all wonderful* and to him* each one was so very unique.
Admittedly* he had a special fondness for the way some of them smiled at him. It was a smile he couldn't possibly describe. He only knew that one glance his way and his heart raced. The lure was that powerful. He simply couldn't resist* couldn't say no. Beguiling and enticing. That certain smile never failed to captivate him.
Before he’d had to shape up and change his behavior in order to survive* he’d been quite the ladies’ man. And that wasn’t his ego talking. It was just the way it was. He’d been irresistible back then.
But things were different now.
In his old life* if he grew bored* he would say his good-bye with expensive gifts so there wouldn’t be any ill feelings toward him. He could not bear to think that even one of his women would ever hate him. Only when he knew for certain that he had pleased them could he move on to the next lovely* sometimes enchanting* woman. And there was always another one.
Until Marie. He had fallen in love with her* and his life had changed forever. The life he knew was gone. Paul Newton Pruitt was gone. A new name. A new identity. A new life. No one would ever find him.

S HE HAD TO BE OUT OF HER EVER-LOVING MIND. A TREASURE hunt? What had she been thinking? Apparently she’d been more interested in proving to Noah Clayborne that she wasn’t a complete bore than in using common sense.
Jordan knew she had no one to blame but herself for her present circumstances* but she still wanted to blame Noah* simply because doing so made her feel better.
She leaned against her dilapidated rental car on the side of the beat-up* two-lane highway in the middle of nowhere* Texas* while impatiently waiting for the engine to cool down so she could pour more water into the coolant reservoir. Thank goodness she’d stopped awhile back on the interstate to pick up a couple of bottles of drinking water for the rest of her trip. She was fairly certain the radiator had a leak* but she’d need to keep the engine running long enough to get to the next town to have a mechanic look at it. It was at least a hundred-ten in the shade* and of course the car’s air conditioner had bit the dust about an hour ago* along with the super-duper satellite system the rental agency had thrown in as a consolation prize for messing up her reservation and knowingly dumping a lemon on her.
Sweat trickled down between her breasts; the bottoms of her sandals were melting into the pavement* and the sunscreen she’d lathered on her face and arms was giving up the fight. Jordan had dark auburn hair but a redhead’s complexion* and it didn’t take much sun for her to burn and freckle. She supposed she had a choice. She could either sit in the car and die of dehydration while she waited for the engine to cool down* or she could stay outside and be slowly cremated.
Okay. She was being a little overdramatic. That’s what the heat will do to you* she thought.
Fortunately* she had her cell phone with her. She never left home without it. Unfortunately* since she was temporarily stranded in the middle of the vast flatland* she couldn’t get a signal.
Serenity* Texas* was fifty or sixty miles away. She hadn’t been able to find out much about the town* only knew that it was so small the name warranted only the smallest typeface on a map of Texas. The professor had called Serenity a charming oasis. But when she’d met him he’d been wearing a heavy wool* tweed blazer in the summer heat. What did he know about charming?
She had checked the professor out before leaving Boston* and although he was strange and eccentric* he was the real deal. The man was multidegreed and certified to teach. An assistant in the FranklinCollege administration building* a woman named Lorraine* had raved about his teaching abilities. According to her* the professor made history come to life. His classes were always the first to fill up* she said.
Jordan found that nearly impossible to believe. “Really?”
“Oh my* yes. The students don’t mind his accent* and they must be hanging on every word because no one ever fails his classes.”
Ah* now Jordan understood. An easy grade.
The woman also mentioned that he’d taken early retirement* but she hoped he would reconsider and come back.
“Good teachers are so hard to come by*” she had remarked. “And on the salaries they’re paid* most can’t afford to retire at such an early age. Why* Professor MacKenna is barely in his forties.”
Lorraine obviously didn’t mind divulging personal information about a past faculty member* and she hadn’t even asked Jordan why she was so interested. Granted* Jordan had lied and told the woman she was a distant relative* but Lorraine hadn’t required any verification.
She was a talker* no doubt about that. “I’ll bet you thought he was much older* didn’t you?”
“Yes* I did.”
“I did too*” she said. “I could look up his birthday for you if you’d like.”
Good heavens* she was accommodating. “That won’t be necessary*” Jordan answered. “You said he officially retired? I thought he’d taken a sabbatical.”
“No* he retired*” she insisted. “We’d be thrilled to have him back. I doubt he will ever teach again though. He received such a nice inheritance*” she continued. “He told me he had no inkling that he was getting it* that the money was quite a surprise. He made the decision then and there to buy some land far away from the hustle and bustle of the city. He was doing research into his family’s history* and he wanted a place where he could work in peace and quiet.”
Looking around her now* Jordan imagined the professor had found his peace and quiet. There wasn’t a soul in sight* and she had a feeling that Serenity was just as stark as the surrounding landscape.
A half hour passed* the engine cooled* and she got back on the road. Since there wasn’t any air-conditioning* she kept the windows down* and the blistering hot air felt like blasts from a furnace on her face. The terrain was as flat as one of her soufflés* but once she drove around a yawning bend and saw the fences on either side of the road* the area seemed less desolate. At least there were signs of habitation. A rusted barbed-wire fence that looked like it had been constructed about a century ago enclosed empty pastures. Since she didn’t see a single crop growing* she assumed the fences were for horses and cattle.
The miles rolled by* but the scenery didn’t change much. Finally* she drove up a couple of gentle slopes* and then the road curved. Around a sharp bend she spotted a tower off in the distance. A sign on the side of the road announced that Serenity was just a mile away. As she made the turn* she picked up her cell phone and saw that she had a signal. The road dipped and then topped a hill. There* spread out before her* was the west side of Serenity.
It looked like a place too tired to die.
The speed limit dropped to thirty miles per hour. She passed several small homes. A rusted pickup truck sat on blocks in the front yard of one house. The tires were missing. Another house had a discarded washing machine in a side yard. What little grass there was among the weeds was untended and burned out. A block farther on she passed an abandoned gas station with one pump still standing. Vines grew up the side of the vacant building* and she could only guess what sort of critters could be living in it.
“What am I doing here? I never should have sold my company*” Jordan whispered.
Pride. That’s what got her into this ridiculous adventure. She didn’t want Noah Clayborne mocking her. “Comfort zone*” she muttered. “What’s wrong with wanting to be in my comfort zone?”
She thought about driving on through Serenity to the next big city* returning the rental car with a few choice words* and getting on the first flight to Boston* but she couldn’t do that. She’d promised Isabel that she would meet the professor and then call and tell her what she’d learned.
Admittedly* Jordan was a little curious about her own ancestors as well. She certainly didn’t believe that all of her Buchanan ancestors were savages* and she wanted to prove it. She also wanted to know what caused the feud between the Buchanans and the MacKennas in the first place. And what about the treasure? Did the professor even know what the treasure was?
Jordan drove on and reached the main street. The houses looked lived-in* but the lawns were parched and brown* and the shades were drawn.
Serenity was as inviting as purgatory.
The red light on her dashboard began to flash* indicating the engine was overheating again. She found a small convenience store a couple of blocks away and pulled in. It was so hot she felt like her back was glued to the seat. She parked in the shade* turned the motor off so it would cool down* then pulled out the notepad with the professor’s phone number and dialed.
On the fourth ring* his voice mail picked up. She left her name and number and was putting her phone back in her purse when it rang. The professor must have been screening his calls.
“Miss Buchanan? Professor MacKenna here. I have to hurry. When do you want to meet? How about dinner? Yes* dinner. Meet me at The Branding Iron. It’s off Third Street. Just head west and you’ll run into it. There’s a nice motel right across the street. You could check in* refresh yourself* and meet me at six. Don’t be late.”
He hung up before she could say a word. He’d sounded nervous* worried maybe. She shook her head. There was something about him that made her uneasy. She wasn’t sure if it was simply because he was such a nervous man* always looking over his shoulder as though he expected someone to pounce on him* or if it was something else that bothered her* something she couldn’t quite define. No matter the reason* her philosophy was simple: better be safe than sorry* and so she would only meet him in a public place.
An air-conditioned public place* she qualified. She was hot and sweaty and trying hard not to be miserable. Think positive* she told herself. After she peeled off her clothes and took a nice shower* she’d feel much better.
She still wished she could keep on driving so she could get back to Boston sooner* but that was out of the question. The car she was driving had a high probability of breaking down on the road* and just picturing herself stranded in the middle of the night made her shudder. No* that was definitely out of the question. Besides* she’d promised Isabel* and she couldn’t go back on her word. And so she would meet Professor Weirdo* talk to him about his research over dinner* get photocopies of his research* and leave Serenity first thing in the morning.
Good* she was already feeling better. She was determined now* and she had a plan.
“Oh* no*” she whispered.
The plan crashed and burned when she pulled into the motel parking lot and got a good look at the hellhole Professor MacKenna had recommended. She was pretty sure Norman Bates ran the place.
The driveway was a gravel pit all the way up to each of the units. There were eight in all* slapped up against one another like warehouse boxes. The white paint was chipped* and the single window in each of the rooms was coated with grime. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful the rooms must be. Bedbugs would run from this place. They had higher standards.
But she could handle it for one night. Right?
“Wrong*” she said aloud.
Surely she could find something better* a place where she wouldn’t have to be afraid to take a shower.
Jordan didn’t consider herself pampered or a snob. She didn’t care if the motel was a bit run-down* but she wanted it to be clean and safe. And this place didn’t measure up to either one of her basic standards. Since she had no intention of spending the night* she didn’t need to see the rooms.
Jordan put the car in park and leaned out the window to get a good look at the restaurant across the street. She made the mistake of resting her arm on the hot edge of the window. She flinched and jerked her arm back inside the car.
The Branding Iron reminded her of a train because the building was long and narrow with a barrel-shaped roof. On the side of the road was a billboard with a purple neon horseshoe. She presumed it was meant to look like a branding iron.
Now that she had her bearings and knew where the restaurant was* she pulled out of the lot and drove on. She was almost certain that the car rental agency didn’t have a branch in Serenity* which meant that she was stuck with this lemon until she drove to a larger city* the closest being over a hundred miles away. Jordan decided that once she checked into a motel for the night* she’d notify the rental company* then she’d find a mechanic to patch up the radiator* and she would be sure to buy a dozen gallons of water before she headed out of town. Just thinking about driving into the middle of nowhere with a malfunctioning car made her nervous. Mechanic first* she told herself. Then decision time. She might leave the car here and take whatever form of public transportation was available. Surely there were buses or trains or something.
She soon came to a wood-plank bridge with a sign announcing that she was crossing Parson’s Creek. The creek didn’t have a drop of water in it* and as she clattered across* she read a warning posted on the railing that the bridge was impassable during high water. Not much of a concern today* she thought. The creek was as dried up as the town appeared to be.
On the other side of the bridge* a wooden sign painted forest green with bold white letters greeted her: WELCOME TO SERENITY* GRADY COUNTY* TEXAS. POPULATION 1*968. In smaller* hand-painted letters were the words* “New home of the Grady County High School Bulldogs.”
The farther east she drove* the larger the homes became. She pulled to a stop at a corner* heard children laughing and shouting* and turned toward the sound. On her left was a neighborhood swimming pool. Finally* she thought. She didn’t feel like she was in a graveyard anymore. There were people and noise. Women were sunbathing while their children played in the pool* and the life-guard* baking under the sweltering sun* sat on his perch half asleep.
The transformation after crossing the bridge from one county to another was astonishing. On this side of town* people watered their lawns. The area was clean* the houses well kept* the streets and sidewalks new. There were actual signs of commerce with shops open on either side of the main thoroughfare. On the left* a beauty shop* a hardware store* and an insurance office* and on the right* a bar and an antiques shop. At the end of the block* Jaffee’s Bistro had tables and chairs set outside under a green-and-white awning* but Jordan couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to sit outside in this heat.
The sign on the door said “Open.” Her priorities immediately shifted. Air-conditioning sounded like heaven at the moment* and so did a nice cold drink. She’d find a mechanic and a motel later.
She parked the car* grabbed her purse and her satchel with her laptop* and went inside. The blast of cold air made her knees weak. It was blissful.
A woman sitting at one of the tables rolling silverware into napkins looked up at the sound of the door opening.
“Lunch hour’s over and dinner isn’t being served yet. I can do you up a nice tall glass of iced tea if you’d like.”
“Yes* thank you. That would be lovely*” Jordan replied.
The ladies’ room was around a corner. After she washed her hands and face and ran a comb through her hair* she felt human again.
There were ten or twelve tables with checkered cloths and matching cushions on the chairs. She chose a table in the corner. She could see out the window* but the sun wasn’t in her face.
The waitress returned a minute later with a frosty glass of iced tea* and Jordan asked her if she could borrow a phone book.
“What are you looking for* honey?” the waitress asked. “Maybe I can help.”
“I need to find a mechanic*” she explained. “And a clean motel.”
“That’s easy enough. There are only two mechanics in town* and one of them is closed until next week. The other one is Lloyd’s Garage* and that’s just a couple of blocks from here. He’s kind of difficult to deal with* but he’ll get the job done. I’ll get you the phone book* and you can look up his number.”
While she waited* Jordan pulled out her laptop and set it up on the table. She’d made some notes the night before and a list of questions to ask the professor* and she thought she’d look them over again.
The waitress brought her a thin phone book open to the page with the listing for Lloyd’s Garage.
“I went ahead and called my friend Amelia Ann*” she said. “She runs the Home Away from Home Motel* and she’s getting a room ready for you right now.”
“That’s very nice of you*” Jordan said.
“It’s a lovely place. Amelia Ann’s husband died several years ago and didn’t leave her anything* not one dime of life insurance* so Amelia Ann and her daughter* Candy* moved into the motel and started managing it. They’ve made it real homey. I think you’ll like it.”
Jordan called the number for the garage on her cell phone and was curtly informed that no one could look at her car until tomorrow. The mechanic told her to bring it in first thing in the morning. “Figures*” Jordan said with a sigh as she flipped her phone shut.
“Are you just passing through Serenity* or did you get lost?” the woman asked. “If you don’t mind me asking*” she hurriedly added.
“I don’t mind you asking. I’m meeting someone here.”
“Oh* honey. It isn’t a man* is it? You didn’t follow a man here* did you? Tell me you didn’t. That’s what I did. I followed him all the way from San Antonio. It didn’t work out though* not for long anyway* and he up and moved on.” She shook her head and made a tsking sound. “Now I’m stuck here until I can earn enough money to move back home. My name’s Angela* by the way.”
Jordan introduced herself and shook the woman’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you* and no* I didn’t follow a man here. I am meeting a man for dinner* but it’s business. He’s bringing me some papers and information.”
“Nothing romantic then?”
She pictured the professor and almost shuddered. “No.”
“Where are you from?”
“Boston.”
“Really? You don’t have that accent* at least not much.”
Jordan wasn’t sure if the comment was good or bad* but Angela was smiling. She had a lovely smile and seemed to have a sweet disposition. In her younger days she’d been a sun worshipper* Jordan guessed* because she had deep creases in her face* and her skin looked a bit like dried leather.
“How long have you lived in Serenity?”
“Close to eighteen years.”
Jordan blinked. The woman had been saving for eighteen years and still didn’t have enough to move back home?
“Where are you going to meet this businessman for dinner?” Angela asked. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m just curious is all.”
“We’re having dinner at The Branding Iron. Have you ever been there?”
“Oh* yes*” she said. “But it’s not as good as the food here* and it’s located in a bad part of town. The restaurant’s a local landmark* so it stays open* and they do a real good business on weekends. It’s not safe after dark. Your businessman must be a local* or maybe a local told him about the place. No one outside of Serenity would even know to suggest The Branding Iron.”
“His name is MacKenna*” she said. “He’s a history professor* and he has some research papers for me.”
“I haven’t met him*” Angela said. “Of course* I don’t know everyone in town* but I’ll bet he’s new to the area.” Angela turned to leave. “You go ahead and enjoy your tea* and I’ll leave you alone. Everyone thinks I talk too much.”
Jordan knew the waitress was waiting for her to disagree. “I don’t think you do.”
Angela turned back* a big smile on her face. “I don’t think I do either. I’m just friendly* that’s all. Too bad you can’t have dinner here. Jaffee’s making his special shrimp dish.”
“I think the professor suggested the restaurant because it’s right across the street from a motel he recommended.”
Angela’s eyebrows lifted. “The Lux? He suggested The Lux?”
Jordan smiled. “Is that what the motel’s called?”
She nodded. “There used to be a big old sign that lit up. The word ‘luxury’ flashed off and on all night. Only the first three letters still light up* and that’s why folks call it The Lux. They do a good business at night…all night as a matter of fact.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she added* “The creep that runs the place charges by the hour. Get my drift?”
She must have thought that Jordan didn’t understand because she hurriedly explained* “It’s a whore place is what it is.”
“Yes*” Jordan said* nodding so the waitress wouldn’t feel the need to explain what a whore was.

Angela thrust her hip out and leaned against the table. She kept her voice low. “It’s also a firetrap if you ask me.” She darted a quick look to her left and then her right to make sure no one had crept into the empty restaurant to eavesdrop* then said* “It should have been torn down years ago* but J. D. Dickey runs the place* and no one dares mess with him. I think he runs some of the whores too* if you ask me. J. D. is a real scary one* all right. He’s got a mean streak a mile wide.”
Angela was a wealth of information and wasn’t the least bit shy about telling everything she knew. Jordan was fascinated. She almost envied Angela’s openness and friendly candor. Jordan was the complete opposite. She kept things bottled up. Bet Angela can sleep at night* she thought. Jordan hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in over a year. Her mind was always racing* and there were nights when she paced the floor of her apartment while she worried about one problem or another. In the morning light* none of those worries seemed all that important* but in the middle of the night* they became monumental.
“Why hasn’t the fire department or the police closed the motel? If it’s a fire hazard…” Jordan wondered aloud.
“Oh* yes* it is.”
“And prostitution is illegal in Texas…”
“Yes* it is*” she agreed again before Jordan could continue. “But that doesn’t matter much. You don’t understand how things are around here. What we have is a different county on each side of Parson’s Creek* and they’re run as different as night and day. Right this minute you’re sitting in GradyCounty* but the sheriff in charge of JessupCounty is one of those folks who thinks he can turn a blind eye to what’s going on. You get my drift? Live and let live. That’s his motto. If you ask me* he’s afraid to go up against J. D.* and you know why? I’ll tell you why. The sheriff of JessupCounty is J. D.’s brother. That’s right. His brother. Isn’t that something?”
Jordan nodded. “What about you? Are you afraid of this man?”
“Honey* anyone with a lick of sense would know to be afraid.”

J . D. DICKEY WAS THE TOWN BULLY. HE HAD A NATURAL TALENT: he didn’t have to work hard at all to get people to hate him. Building his reputation as a badass was a job he thoroughly enjoyed* and he knew for a certainty that he’d accomplished his goal when he strolled down the main street of Serenity and people hurried out of his way. Their expressions said it all. They were afraid of him* and in J. D.’s mind* fear meant power. His power.
J. D.’s full name was Julius Delbert Dickey Jr. He didn’t much care for the name though* thought it was too girly-sounding for the tough-as-iron image he was going after* and so* while he was still in high school* he began to train the residents of his hometown to call him by his initials. Those few who resisted were subjected to his special* though unsophisticated* form of behavior modification. He beat the daylights out of them.
There were two Dickey brothers* and both of them grew up in Serenity. J. D. was firstborn. Randall Cleatus Dickey came along two years later.
The Dickey boys hadn’t seen their father in over ten years. A federal prison in Kansas was providing the Senior’s room and board for twenty-five to life for an armed robbery that* as he explained to the sentencing judge* had just gone bad. Looking back* he told the judge* he realized he probably shouldn’t have shot that nosy guard after all. The man was only doing his job.
The boys’ mother* Sela* stayed around until J. D. and Randy graduated from high school. Then she decided she had had enough of motherhood. Tired and worn as thin as a broomstick trying to keep her rambunctious sons out of trouble* and failing miserably at the job* she packed her clothes and snuck out of town in the middle of the night. The boys figured she wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon because she took with her all of her large cans of Extra Super Hold Aqua Net hairspray. Their mother’s hair grooming products were her only luxury* and she always kept at least five or six cans on hand.
They didn’t miss her or her chronic complaining about having to do without* and since J. D. was pretty much running things anyway* life didn’t change much after she left. They had been dirt poor growing up* and they were still dirt poor* but J. D. was determined to change that. He had big plans* but his plans required money. Lots of money. He wanted to own a ranch. He had his eye on a nice little piece of land located just thirty miles west of town. The land was small by most Texans’ measure at just over five hundred acres* but J. D. figured that once he was firmly established as a gentleman rancher* he’d be able to gobble up all the land around him. The ranch he meant to have was prime land with several good watering holes for the cattle he was going to buy as soon as he figured out a good way to get his hands on some money. There was a nice fishing lake too* and brother Randy loved to fish.
Yes sir* he was going to become a cowboy. He felt like he was already halfway there. He owned the boots and the hat* and he’d worked on a ranch two full summers in a row while he was in high school. The pay stunk. The experience was invaluable.
J. D.’s dream was put on hold for five years with good behavior. He’d killed a man in a bar fight and got five years for manslaughter. There were extenuating circumstances. According to witnesses* the stranger had started the fight and had gotten in some pretty good cuts with his switchblade before J. D. knocked him out. He hadn’t set out to take the man’s life* but he punched him hard* and as bad luck would have it* the stranger struck his head on his way down.
J. D. boasted to his brother that he would have gotten more time behind bars if he hadn’t given each one of the jurors the evil eye as he was leaving the courtroom.
Randy’s take on the incident was different. In fact* his brother’s incarceration opened his eyes* and he saw for the first time that the real power was on the side of the law. So* while J. D. was serving his sentence* Randy was changing into a law-abiding citizen* and within a few short years he managed to influence enough people to get himself elected sheriff of JessupCounty.
J. D. couldn’t have been happier for his brother. Randy’s new title and his new status in the community were achievements to celebrate. After all* having a sheriff in the family could come in real handy.

J ORDAN CHECKED INTO THE HOME AWAY FROM HOME MOTEL and was given a spacious room in the back of the courtyard. The door had solid double locks. The room was square shaped and clean. A king-sized bed faced the door and a desk and two chairs sat against the wall facing the window. No laptop hookup or Internet access* she noticed* but she could do without for one night.
Angela’s friend* Amelia Ann* made her feel like an honored guest. She brought her extra little soaps and fluffy towels fresh out of her dryer.
After Jordan unpacked* she stripped out of her clothes and took a nice* cool shower. She washed and dried her hair* put on a skirt and blouse* and had just enough time to head back to The Branding Iron. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten dinner at six* but since she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast* she was actually hungry.
Dinner was unforgettable…but not in a good way. As it turned out* Professor MacKenna was quite an appetite suppressant.
Though it was just six o’clock* the parking lot of The Branding Iron was full. A waitress met her at the door and showed her to a booth tucked way in the back dining room.
“We have better tables* but the guy you’re meeting wanted privacy. I’ll show you where he is. Stay away from the fish tonight. It smells funny*” she whispered as she led the way. “I’ll be serving you*” she added with a smile.
Professor MacKenna didn’t stand when Jordan reached the table* didn’t even bother to nod as she took her seat across from him. His mouth was stuffed with bread* and he should have waited until after he had swallowed to speak to her* but he didn’t. He talked around a wad of bread the size of a golf ball that was half in and half out of his mouth.
“You’re late*” he said* his voice garbled by food.
Since it was only a few minutes past the hour* she didn’t feel the need to apologize or respond to his ridiculous criticism. She picked up a linen napkin* unfolded it* and placed it in her lap. His napkin was still on the table* she noticed. Jordan tried desperately not to look at his mouth while he chewed. Had he not been so vulgar* he would have been comical.
The urge to bolt almost overtook her. What in God’s name was she doing here? Hadn’t she been perfectly happy and content before the conversation she’d had with Noah at the wedding reception? Now look at her. Having dinner with Professor Uncouth. Lovely* she thought. What a lovely adventure.
Okay* new plan* she told herself. Get through this dinner as quickly and as painlessly as possible* get the research papers* and leave.
“I’ve already ordered my dinner*” he said. “Have a look over the menu and pick something.”
She opened her menu* ordered the first item that caught her eye* a spicy chicken dish* and sparkling water. The waitress brought her her drink* gave her a sympathetic look with a meaningful glance toward the professor* and hurried to another table* pretending not to notice that he was waving an empty breadbasket at her.
Jordan waited until his mouth was empty before speaking. “As a history professor*” she began* “surely you know the Buchanan clan couldn’t be all bad. Over the centuries I’m sure there…” She stopped talking when he vigorously shook his head. Then she asked* “You really believe they were all horrible men?”
“I do. They were despicable.”
“Give me an example of something despicable the Buchanans did to the sainted MacKennas*” she challenged.
His behavior and his attitude changed the second he started talking about his research. Thankfully* he wasn’t chewing when he began his history lesson…his one-sided* slanted history lesson.
“In 1784 the magnificent Laird Ross MacKenna sent his only daughter* Freya* to the clan Mitchell. She was pledged to marry the Laird Mitchell’s oldest son* who everyone knew would become laird just as soon as his esteemed father passed on. According to my documents* there was a terrible attack en route to the Mitchell holding.”
“The Buchanans attacked?” Jordan asked.
He shook his head. “No* not the Buchanans. It was the clan MacDonald who attacked. The Laird MacDonald was against the alliance between the MacKennas and the Mitchells because he believed it would make them too powerful. The ambush occurred on the bank of the great loch* and in the skirmish* the fair lass* Freya* fell in.”
He waited for her to acknowledge what he’d told her* and so she nodded. “Did she drown?” she asked* wondering how he would pin her death on the Buchanans.
“No* and it was written that she could swim* but the rain began* and the loch was stirred into a frenzy. Suddenly there was a great shout* and one of the MacKennas looked across the loch just in time to see a Buchanan warrior pull Freya out of the water. The lass was still alive* for her arms were flailing.”
“Then that is a good story about the Buchanans*” she pointed out. “You’ve just told me that a Buchanan warrior saved the woman’s life.”
The professor’s eyebrows lowered. “The lass Freya was never heard of or seen again.”
“What happened to her?”
“The Buchanan took her. That’s what happened. He saw her* he wanted her* and he took her.”
She thought the professor expected her to be shocked* and she knew he wouldn’t appreciate her laughter. “Was there only one witness to this…kidnapping?”
“One reliable witness.”
“A MacKenna.”
“Yes.”
“Then you must agree that the story might have been exaggerated so that the Buchanans would be held responsible.” Before he could argue with her conclusion* she asked* “Can you give me another example…with documented proof?”
“I’ll be happy to*” he said.
Unfortunately* his salad arrived* and he began his story while digging into his plate. Jordan looked down at the table so she wouldn’t have to watch.
He stabbed at his lettuce as he said* “Look in your history books* and you’ll read that in 1691* King William III ordered all the clan chiefs to sign a loyalty oath by January 1* 1692.
“The MacKennas were the most honored and respected clan in all of Scotland. William MacKenna* as head of the MacKenna clan* headed for Inverary in November with a band of clansmen to sign it. On the way he was met by a messenger who told him that the king was making changes to the oath and that they were to return home until they received word. When they arrived back at their holding* they discovered their livestock had been scattered* and many of their buildings had been set afire. By the time they were able to establish order again* the deadline had come and gone.
“It was then that they learned that the messenger had been a liar and not from the king at all. The loyalty oath had not been postponed.”
He gave her another one of his glowering glares. Uh-oh. She knew where this story was heading.
“And?” she prodded. “What happened then?”
“I’ll tell you what happened.” He dropped his fork and leaned forward. “King William was furious with the MacKennas for disobeying his order. As punishment he made the MacKennas pay a heavy toll and relinquish a good portion of their land. Worse* they fell out of favor with the monarchy for decades to come.” Nodding* he picked up his fork and stabbed a tomato wedge. “There’s no doubt who sent the messenger and who wreaked havoc on the MacKennas.”
“Let me guess. The Buchanans?”
“That’s right* dearie. The despicable Buchanans.”
He’d raised his voice and nearly shouted “despicable Buchanans” at her. Other diners in the restaurant were watching and listening. Jordan didn’t care if he wanted to make a scene. She’d keep up.
“Was there actual proof that the Buchanans sent the messenger or attacked the MacKenna lands?”
“There was no proof needed*” he snapped.
“Without actual documented proof* this is all hearsay and fairy tale.”
“The Buchanans were the only clan underhanded enough to want to discredit the revered MacKennas.”
“So says a MacKenna. Did it ever occur to you that maybe the story’s been reversed* and the Buchanans had at some point been attacked by the MacKennas?”
The wicked look on his face told her she’d punched all of his buttons. His fist hit the table. “I know my facts. Don’t forget* the Buchanans started it all. It was they who stole the MacKenna treasure.”
“Exactly what was this treasure?” Jordan asked. This was the subject that had piqued her interest in the first place.
“Something very valuable and that rightfully belonged to the MacKennas*” he answered. Suddenly he sat upright in his chair and scowled. “That’s what you’re really after* isn’t it? You think you’ll discover the treasure…maybe even find it for yourself. Well* I can assure you the centuries have hidden it well* and if I haven’t discovered it* you certainly won’t be able to stumble upon it. All of the atrocities committed by the Buchanans over the generations have obscured the origin of the feud. It’s likely that no one will ever find it.”
She didn’t know why she was letting him get her all riled up* but she was suddenly determined to defend her family name. “Do you know the difference between fact and fantasy* Professor?”
Their conversation became more heated. The two of them barely managed to keep their voices below a shout* even though Jordan did get a little carried away with a few choice names for his clan.
All conversation ceased as soon as dinner arrived. Jordan couldn’t believe the huge hunk of nearly raw meat that was placed in front of the professor. Next to it was a giant baked potato fully loaded. Her little chicken dish looked like a child’s portion in comparison. The professor’s head went down* and he didn’t come up for air again until he had devoured every bite. There wasn’t a piece of gristle or fat left on his plate.
“Would you like more bread?” she asked calmly.
In answer he shoved the bread basket at her. She was able to get the waitress’s attention and politely requested more. From the waitress’s wary expression* Jordan assumed she’d witnessed the argument* and she smiled to assure the woman that all was well.
“You have a great passion for your work*” Jordan complimented. She decided that if she didn’t start humoring him* he might leave without letting her see his research* and the trip would be completely wasted.
“And you admire my dedication*” he answered and then launched into another tale about the dastardly Buchanans. He stopped long enough to order dessert* and by the time it arrived* he’d worked his way back to the fourteenth century.
Everything in Texas was big* including food. She stared at the top of the professor’s head as he devoted himself to inhaling every bite of the huge wedge of apple pie with two scoops of vanilla ice cream.
A waiter dropped a glass. The professor looked around and noticed how crowded the room was becoming. He seemed to shrivel up in the booth as he kept a close eye on who was coming and going.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t like crowds.”
He took a sip of his coffee and said* “I’ve stored some data on a flash drive. It’s in one of the boxes for Isabel. Do you know what a flash drive is?”
Before she could answer* he said* “All Isabel has to do is slip the flash drive into her computer. It’s like a disk* and it can store volumes of data.”
His condescending tone irritated her to no end. “I’ll make sure she gets it*” she said.
He told her the price of the flash drive and said* “I assume you or Miss MacKenna will reimburse me.”
“Yes* I will.”
“Now?” He pulled a receipt from his pocket and stared expectantly at her* obviously wanting payment right this minute* and so she got the money from her billfold and handed it to him. He wasn’t the trusting sort. He counted the money before tucking it into his wallet.
“As to my research…I have three large boxes. I’ve spoken at length with Isabel* and against my better judgment I have decided to let you take them to make photocopies for her. She has assured me that she takes full responsibility* and so I will rely on her integrity as a MacKenna. I’ll know if anything is missing. I have a photographic memory. Once I’ve read something* it stays with me.” He paused to tap his forehead. “I remember names and faces of people I met ten* twenty years ago. It’s stored up here. The important and the unimportant.”
“How long do I have to make the copies?” she asked* wanting to move the conversation along.
“I’ve been so busy getting ready for my trip. I’m leaving sooner than I originally planned. You’ll have to stay in Serenity and make your copies here. It shouldn’t take you more than two days at the most. Maybe three*” he allowed.
“Is there a print shop in town with copy machines?”
“I don’t believe so*” he replied. “But there’s a machine at the grocery store* and I’m sure there are others around town.”
After two more cups of coffee* he requested the bill. As the time for their parting grew closer* every minute seemed to drag. When the check came* he pushed it toward her. At this point she wasn’t surprised.
Her brother Zachary had always been able to gross her out. He was much better at it than any of her other brothers* but tonight the professor had usurped his title as the king of gross. Professor MacKenna wiped his mouth with his napkin* which had lain folded on the table throughout the meal* and scooted out of the booth.
“I want to get home before it gets dark.”
It wouldn’t be dark for at least another hour. “Do you live far from here?”
“No*” he answered. “I’ll meet you at the car and transfer the boxes. You’ll take good care of them? Isabel spoke highly of you* and I’m trusting her.”
“I’ll take good care of them*” she promised.
Ten minutes later the bill had been paid* the boxes had been transferred to her car* and Jordan was* for the time being* rid of the professor.
She felt liberated.