High Stakes Bride (6 page)

After a few more uncomfortable pleasantries, Wells climbed back into his car and drove away. Dani watched the plume of dust until it dissipated, any appetite she'd had gone. As bland and pleasant as Wells had been, he represented trouble. He might have been on her land uninvited, but technically he owned more of Galbraith Station than either she or her brother did.

T
he following afternoon, after taking a trip into town to buy groceries, Dani strolled down to the waterfront and met Becca McKay at Jackson's Ridge's only café.

Becca was the same age as Dani—a tanned, willowy blonde who'd spent most of her life travelling. Five years ago she had landed in Jackson's Ridge for a summer and waited tables for Nola, until she'd been swept off her feet by one of the coast's pastoral barons.

The marriage had caught everyone in Jackson's Ridge cold. John McKay was twelve years older than Becca and a widower. To compound matters, Becca's boss, Nola, just happened to be one of John's sisters. Nola had had an amiable relationship with Becca until John had started turning up as a regular customer. Since then, she hadn't been able to hide her disapproval of the age difference, or her opinion that the marriage was doomed to failure—despite the fact that John and Becca now had two children, with a third on the way.

Becca chose a table outside under a shade sail and shot her a meaningful look. “I heard Carter's back.”

Dani pulled out a chair, sat down and braced herself. She and Becca had been friends for years, but they had differing opinions about Carter. Despite Carter's reputation for being cool and elusive, Becca was certain he was prime husband material—for the right woman. “How did you find out?”

Becca draped a colourful fringed bag that matched the orange and pink stripes of her tank top over the back of her chair. “John had a face-to-face in the supermarket. Carter reached for a bottle of hot sauce—he was getting ketchup for the kids. How typical is that?”

Dani couldn't help thinking that when it came to John McKay it was very typical. He was a devoted husband and father and made no bones about the fact that his wife and children came first. “Be warned. Carter Rawlings is not my favourite topic.”

“Then you're on your own, because the whole town's humming. Word is out that he's got to pop the question this time.”

Dani studied the laminated menu. “He did make a proposition last time he was back, but it was more along the lines of a suggestion that it would be more convenient all around if I moved in with him. I don't recall that a ring was part of the deal.”

Dani poured two glasses of water from the carafe on the table. There had been no moonlight, no bended knee, just pure practicality. She took a sip of water and tried to forget the moment. Carter had been on his way out the door, his bags packed, his orders and passport on his bedside table, with that cool, distant look in his gaze. As always, the exit was practiced and slick. Dani didn't like to dwell on how many women had been put through the exact same routine. Even in Jackson's Ridge Carter had a certain reputation, and he hadn't earned it by being caught up in emotion. She shrugged. “I wasn't interested. The way I saw it, it was all about convenience. His.”

Becca frowned. “Are you sure it's finished? Don't forget, he's a
guy.
They think differently—food, sex, football, business—and not necessarily in that order.”

The screen door flipped open as Nola walked toward them with a pad.

“Twelve months sure. Carter and I broke up when he left. We're finished.”

Nola's expression went utterly blank. She was a dedicated lifetime member of the Carter Rawlings fan club. In her eyes he could do no wrong, whereas Dani did wrong on a regular basis—like now, for example.

Becca took one look at Nola's face and set the menu down. “We'll have two lattes while we figure out what else we want. Is that okay?”

Nola's notebook snapped closed.

Becca waited until she was out of earshot. “She's in shock.”

“I can't think why. It's the third time it's happened.”

Becca's expression was rueful. “Only the third? The moon would have to turn blue before Nola admitted she might have it wrong. Once she gets her teeth into an idea she hangs on like grim death. According to John she had a thing going with Walter Douglas from the butcher shop when they were at school. He ended up marrying someone else and Nola's refused to date since. That's
thirty-five years
on the shelf because she figures that someone else got her guy.”

The screen door to the café flipped open as a couple left.

“Talking about male cheesecake…” Becca jerked her head to indicate Roger Wells, who was seated inside near the window then averted her gaze as he pushed his chair back and strolled toward the door. She rolled her eyes. “He's coming this way. Do I look married?”

“Becca, you're six months pregnant. He's got to figure that you've at least got a guy.”

“I guess. Plus he's just been over the farm books. What he doesn't know about me isn't worth printing.” With a grin, she patted her belly. “Did I tell you it's a girl? I had a scan on Monday. John's over the moon.”

Roger Wells inclined his head. “Mrs. McKay, Dani.”

Becca made a face. Dani killed any hint of a smile and kept her gaze fixed on the collar of Wells's pristine white shirt. He wasn't wearing a suit jacket today, and looked younger and a lot more casual than he had the previous evening. With an effort, Dani made polite conversation, but her replies were forced; Wells represented the bank. No matter how charming, she couldn't get past that fact, or the fear that missing that mortgage payment engendered. Besides, he was just a little too smooth-tongued for her liking.

Nola appeared at the screen door with a tray. Wells did the gentlemanly thing and opened the door then lifted a hand as he strolled back to the office.

Becca fanned herself. “Looks like you've got yourself an inside track there, girl. From what I hear, Wells is single, lonely
and
alone.”

Nola set the tray on the table with a sharp tap. “Better not let Carter catch him chatting you up.” She threw a dismissive glance at Wells's retreating back, her voice pitched loud enough to carry. “Man must have a death wish.”

Dani's jaw clamped. “Carter and I are finished. We've been finished for months.”

Nola's expression didn't flicker and Dani had to wonder if she'd even heard.

A latte was placed in front of Dani, a small star-shaped biscotti and a sachet of sugar placed neatly on the saucer. “Let's hope
he
knows that.”

Becca lifted a brow. “If I were you, Nola, I'd start worrying about it when it becomes your business.”

Nola's head swivelled. Her gaze settled on Becca like a pair of twin lasers, old issues bubbling to the surface. “All I'm saying is it's a shame that boy has to come back from almost being killed and find out his girlfriend lost interest while he was lying in a hospital bed.”

Dani ripped open a sachet of sugar and emptied it into her cup. “Like I said before, we broke up before he left. And he'd been gone about eight months before he hit the hospital bed.”

“Hmmph.” Nola turned on her heel.

Becca let out a breath. “She didn't know that.”

Dani shrugged. “Neither did I, until I talked to Gladys Hainey at the supermarket.”

Becca lifted her cup and took a reflective sip. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”

Dani lifted a brow. “But—?”

Becca grinned. “Uh-huh. Impossible.”

Dani cradled her cup between her fingers, and transferred her gaze to the view. The small cove the town was built around was sheltered, with rock promontories at both ends, a pretty stretch of shelly beach and enough deep water that fishing boats could tie up at the jetty. “Better drink up before Nola comes back to clean the table. You might have forgotten who owns this café, but I haven't. Closing time could be any second.”

“Talking about closing. I heard the Barclays' barn caught on fire last week. According to John, they lost a shed full of plant.”

Dani tensed, the memory of the fire and the swiftness with which it had spread, eating through steel and timber, wasn't one she'd forget in a hurry. “I was there—for an appointment. The building was already ablaze when I drove in the gates. By the time the Fire Service got there it was too late, the building had burned to the ground. Luckily they're covered by insurance.”

Twenty minutes later, John arrived to pick up Becca.

Becca eased to her feet, grimacing as she rubbed the small of her back. “Brunch. Next Sunday?”

“It's a date.” Becca's leisurely brunches were legendary, and usually peopled with an eclectic, sometimes oddball mix of characters. Whenever an invitation was issued, Dani always turned up. If the food itself was plain, it was a certainty the company wouldn't be—and, as it happened, Becca was a fabulous cook. All the years she'd spent travelling hadn't been wasted. She spoke several languages and cooked with inventive gusto. It was one of the things Nola just didn't get about Becca—she didn't see the interesting woman behind the pretty face.

Dani finished her coffee, hitched the strap of her purse over her shoulder and walked back toward the supermarket where she'd parked the truck. As she passed the alley that led to the back of the café, she paused. She could smell smoke.

A fragment of blackened paper with a glowing orange edge swirled in the breeze. The wisps of smoke thickened. Frowning, she stared down the narrow, potholed lane, reluctant to trespass. Nola wouldn't thank her for poking around her property, but she couldn't just walk away without investigating. Not after what had happened to the Barclays' barn. From what she knew of the layout of the shops that fringed the beach and the conglomeration of houses and flats built behind them, the buildings were too close to allow for any activity like burning rubbish.

She started down the alley. Her pulse rate quickened as she rounded a corner and was pushed back by a hot gust of smoke. Flames roared out of a Dumpster set against the back wall of the café. The fire had already taken a hold of the old weatherboard building, licking hungrily upward and threatening to catch on the small adjacent carport where Nola's car was parked. The wind—a sea breeze—was blowing hard enough to muffle the crackle of the flames, and inside the café music was playing, which was probably why Nola hadn't noticed that her livelihood was about to go up in flames.

Retracing her steps, Dani pounded on the door that opened out onto a small delivery bay. When there was no answer, she pushed her way inside.

A young girl stacking a dishwasher was visible down a small, dim hallway. Her head jerked up, her expression indignant. “You can't come in here—”

“The back of the café is on fire.”

The girl gaped at her. Heart pounding, Dani spotted an ancient fire alarm and hose jutting from the wall. Taking off a shoe, she broke the glass and threw the switch. An ear-splitting ringing filled the building as she began unwinding hose.

Nola stepped into view. Her face went white, then bright red. Flames were now visible at the back window.

Dani dragged the hose out the door and down the steps. The girl followed, dragging loose hose with her. Dani thrust the nozzle into the girl's hands. “Start hosing. I'll call emergency services.”

Grabbing a cell phone from her purse, Dani began dialling, and in that moment Nola snapped into action.

“I'll call Walter direct. It'll be faster.”

Snatching up the café phone, she made the call. Aside from owning the butcher shop, Walter Douglas was head of the Fire Service, and the fire station was situated right next door to his shop.

She jammed the receiver back on its rest then went to clear the restaurant. Seconds later, she had closed the doors and moved her car out onto the road, barely missing the fire truck as it turned into the narrow drive. Minutes later the fire was out.

Nola stared at the flooded, blackened mess of the Dumpster and the charred section of wall, her expression stark.

Walter poked at the oily residue floating in the water. “What was in there?”

“The usual. Food scraps, some plastic and paper rubbish. A few boxes.”

“Smells like kerosene or one of those fancy fire-lighting gels.”

Nola looked blank. “It can't be. I don't
have
either.”

He leaned forward and examined the residue more closely. “If you didn't throw an accelerant in there, then someone else did.”

Some of the blankness left Nola's expression. “I thought it must have been caused by a cigarette butt—”

Walter's expression was grim. “Do you know anyone in this town who'd be stupid enough to throw a cigarette butt into a Dumpster of rubbish?” With a curt command, he directed two men to check under the building in case anything was still smouldering.

Nola transferred her attention to the blackened corner of the carport. “I can't believe it was deliberate. Who would want to burn down my café?”

Walter eased off his helmet. “It's thirty-plus degrees. People do dumb things in the heat.” He turned to Dani. “It's a good job you spotted the smoke. Another couple of minutes and the whole place would have gone up. These old shops don't have any fire-retardant materials in them. They might look pretty, but they're nothing but fuel.”