Heck if she knew. If she’d had a computer, she could have looked it up. Of course, without passwords, she wouldn’t get far. She’d searched the notebooks and texts from the car and hadn’t found anything useful yet. “Teach, plan—I have a minor in landscape management, so I can design parks with an interest in ecologicalpreservation.”
She’d skimmed enough of the texts togarner a few familiar keywords to fling around. Had she come out here in pursuit of employment? If so, she hadn’t found any paper trail. She needed heremail.
“So you’re taking a sabbatical between school and work?” heasked.
That’s what she’d led him to believe anyway. “Cass offered an opportunity I couldn’t refuse. These mountains are so beautiful! And so isolated. I hadn’t realizedcell phones wouldn’t work and that Cass would have nocomputer.”
He gestured over his shoulder. “Use our business office if you need to keep in touch. We keep computers and printers for the guests. I’ll tell the front desk to give you a key card to getin.”
Hope bloomed. Here was reward for her patience. “Thank you! That’s so generous of you. Is there anything I can do in return?I haven’t had a chance to admire your landscaping yet. Perhaps I could look around, make suggestions?” At least knowing her major offered a hint of why she knew about plants andlandscaping.
“Knock yourself out,” he said, finishing his wine and looking for a waiter—not as if he needed wine but checked on the efficiency of hisemployees.
Carrying on a conversation when she knew nothingwas tough. Sam admired a painting nearly hidden by tall plants. “I saw a mural in the diner that resembles an earlier version of the one on your wall. The sameartist?”
Kennedy wrinkled his brow as if trying to remember and turned to see what she was looking at. He shrugged and watched the waiter fill his glass. “There used to be an artists’ colony here. The whole town is littered withpieces like that. I suppose some day, we need to find out if any of those artists became famous. Although with our luck, it would probably be as an artfraud.”
Sam widened her eyes at the disparagement, but before she could ask questions, he pulled his beeping phone from his pocket and frowned at the screen. “I have a situation I need to handle. Stay and enjoy your dessert. I’ll be backto take you home in abit.”
Shit, shit, shit, she wanted that key card. “I could wait in the business office,” she suggestedquickly.
He nodded in approval. “Good idea. I’ll speak to Derrick on the way out. He’ll have a cardwaiting.”
He strode off without a look back. So much for making an impression. She’d even shampooed and used a ton of product to tame her hair into somethingbetter than a haystack, and he still didn’tnotice.
Oh well, she had access to a computer. Too excited to bother with dessert, she finished her meal and hurried to the front desk, wondering what kind ofsituationrequired hisattention.
The desk clerk didn’t seem concerned, so the place wasn’t on fire at least. He handed her the key, gave her directions, and picked up a ringingphone.
She had no idea if she’d ever been in a hotel, much less a business office. She wasn’t entirely certain she knew how to use a computer, but she figured anyone with a master’s degree must have some knowledge of technology.A master’s degree. She could scarcely comprehend it. She’d feared she’d stolen the car and its contents, but she had a master’s degree! Or the owner of the car did.Whoops.
She hoped she’d know how to use the computer the way she knew how to use a fork and drive a car. Apparently, she had a strong unconsciousmemory.
The business office was dark and empty. She unlocked the door, flipped a light switch, and settled into a desk chair in front of amonitor.
The hotel’s computer password and user name were printed on a sheet of instructions.Taking a deep breath, she logged in, opened a search engine, and typed in the phone number she’d found in hertextbooks.
Brigham Young Universitycameup.
She’d written down the campus phone in her textbook, not her own? What kind of person didthat?
One without her own phone? Was she that poor or thatinvisible?
Hourslater,a rap on the window of the business office shook Sam out of her computer search. What time was it? She glanced at the computer clock—going on ten. She turned around and saw a dirty, disheveled Deputy Walker leaning against the glass. At least her alliterative depiction didn’t includedangerous. Beneath his whisker-stubble, his face looked drawn and exhausted, which made him slightly moreapproachable.
Had Kurt sent a police officer to take her home?Rude.
Feeling better that Samantha Moon didn’t seem to have any missing person or “This person is armed and dangerous” warnings on the internet, she unlocked the door and joined the deputy in the hall. “Are you on duty twenty-four hours?” she asked, more sympathetically than she’dintended.
He shrugged. “They saveme a room here for nights when I’m running late. Kurt’s mother just arrived, and they’re having a family wrangle. I can run you home, if youlike.”
Charming. She’d been deserted for his mother. A ticket to wealth seemed even less appealing thanearlier.
“I’m thinking of storing bicycles all over town,” she said crisply, stalking for the nearest exit. The swish of the skirt againsther legs felt odd and sexy. Non-student Sam seemed to likeskirts.
She could feel the deputy looking, which made her feel a tad better about being so callouslyabandoned.
“Getaway vehicles? How about roller blades?” he suggested. “Easier to store. Although either of them in that outfit and without helmets and knee pads is asking fortrouble.”
