LITMIR.BIZ

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that moment, his mother appeared at his shoulder. “Hope I’m not interrupting. Please introduce me to this lovely girl,” she said.

      A waiter scurried over with a third chair, and Liam stood until his mother was seated. Maeve Kavanagh had never been able to resist poking her nose into Liam’s affairs, either literal or metaphorical ones. Because he loved her dearly, he tolerated her interference, particularly since he hoped to get her impressions of the mysterious blonde. “Zoe Chamberlain, meet Maeve Kavanagh, my mother.”

      The two women shook hands. Zoe grinned wryly. “I’m happy to meet you. But you’re far too young to be Liam’s mother. I think he gave me the wrong impression when he described you.” She crossed her legs beneath the table, the toe of her shoe brushing the crease in his trouser leg. Was she doing that on purpose?

      Maeve shot him a glance that made the tops of his ears heat. “My firstborn has an odd sense of humor at times. We make allowances for him.” She helped herself to an appetizer. “What brings you to Silver Glen, Ms. Chamberlain? Business or vacation?”

      “Call me Zoe, please. And actually, it’s neither. I had a nasty bout of pneumonia back in March. Spent a few days in the hospital. Since then I’ve been taking things easy. Your beautiful hotel seemed like the perfect place to rest and regain my stamina.”

      “You’ve come to the right spot. We’ll pamper you so well you won’t want to go home.”

      Serious illness explained her fragile appearance. Which led Liam to more questions. He inserted himself into the conversation. “And on that note, where is home, Zoe?”

      For the first time, he saw her good humor waver. A shadow crossed her expressive face. But she recovered quickly. “I was born in Connecticut, but I haven’t lived there in years.”

      “That’s not really an answer.”

      Her jaw tightened. “Am I being interrogated?”

      Maeve Kavanagh’s phone buzzed, signaling the arrival of a text. She glanced at it and grimaced. “Duty calls.” She stood and patted Liam’s shoulder. “Try not to alienate our newest guest, son. I’d like her to stay for a while.”

      In the silence that followed his mother’s departure, Liam stared moodily at his tablemate. “Since when is polite conversation categorized as interrogation?”

      She shrugged. “So far, the conversation has been pretty one-sided. I’m picking up weird vibes from you. Is there a problem you want to talk about?”

      “No.” Yes. “Feel free to cross-examine me if it will make you feel better. My family is an open book. Ask anyone in town. They’ll tell you.”

      “There’s no such thing as a clan without skeletons in the closet. But I’ll take you at your word. Do you have siblings?”

      “More than I care to count. It’s the Irish Catholic thing. My mother deserves sainthood.”

      “And your father?”

      He couldn’t help the wave of anger that made his entire body go rigid. “He died when I was sixteen.”

      “I’m sorry.” Her response was quiet. In her steady gaze he saw recognition of his turmoil. But he didn’t want anyone psychoanalyzing him. He ate another appetizer, his gaze drifting over the noisy but genteel crowd. “It was a long time ago,” he muttered, and was relieved when she allowed the subject to drop.

      “Did you always know you wanted to run the hotel?”

      “No. In fact, I had dreams of becoming a major-league football player.”

      Her jaw dropped and she laughed out loud.

      He scowled. “What’s so funny?”

      You don’t really seem the type.”

      “I can assure you, Zoe, I’ve played more than my share of high school and college sports.”

      “I wasn’t impugning your athletic ability or your masculinity. It’s just that you seem rather sophisticated for the rough-and-tumble world of professional sports.”

      “Sophistication is nothing more than clothes and demeanor. After my father’s death, it became clear that my studies were headed in a new direction. As soon as I finished an MBA, I returned home to assist my mother.”

      “Did you really have no choice?” It sounded like more than a rhetorical question.

      “No one dragged me back in chains, if that’s what you mean. But I felt the obligation of being the oldest. The others were still growing up. It was me or no one.”

      “I see.”

      His explanation seemed to bother her, though he couldn’t fathom why. “At the risk of sounding nosy, what did you study in college?”

      “I spent four semesters at Vassar. Decided I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, so I dropped out and joined the Peace Corps.”

      “Are you serious?” More and more he got the impression that she was a throwback to the 1960s.

      “It was wonderful,” she said simply. “And eye-opening. I was young and naive and had no clue that extreme third-world poverty existed.”

      “Your parents were okay with you leaving school?”

      “I didn’t really ask them.”

      The more she revealed, the more he wanted to know. But she had accused him of interrogating her, and he had to respect her boundaries...not only because she was a guest in the hotel, but because it was the right thing to do.

      “Would you like another drink?” he asked.

      “A peach daiquiri would be nice.” Zoe cocked her head. “Why are you entertaining me?”

      He summoned a waiter and gave their order. When the young man disappeared, Liam met her gaze squarely. “Has it occurred to you that you may be entertaining me?”

      For the first time since they met in the lobby, he saw her flustered. Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink and she looked away for a moment. He used the opportunity to study her profile. The only thing marring a classically beautiful face was the thrust of a stubborn chin and the smallest of crooks in her nose.

      His scrutiny did not go unnoticed. Her hands fiddled with a fork as she faced him again. “Do I have food on my face?” she asked, the words acerbic.

      “Sorry. I was just wondering if you had ever broken your nose.”

      “That bad, huh?”

      “Not at all. But you have the features of a Greek goddess except for that tiny crooked place in your nose and the way you lead with your chin.”

      “I’m not sure that counts as a compliment.”

      “Merely trying to avoid social conventions.”

      Finally, he coaxed a smile from her. “Touché.”

      Their drinks arrived. Zoe sipped hers delicately, like a small child savoring an unaccustomed treat. He wanted to ask her flat out if she could afford a six-week stay at Silver Beeches, but of course, he couldn’t. Attending Vassar indicated a certain level of financial ease. Then again, she could have gone on a scholarship. The fact that he was so obsessed with her background gave him pause. Was his interest related to the hotel, or something more?

      A man could want a woman without knowing anything at all about her other than the way she walked and the scent of her perfume. Simple lust he understood. But this fixation on ferreting out Zoe’s secrets alarmed him. Whether she was an eccentric heiress or a working girl with only months to live or European royalty hiding out from the press, her story was hers to tell.

      Perhaps if he were patient, Zoe would open up to him. Two decades ago he had allowed infatuation to blind him to the truth about a woman. It had been a salutary lesson, and one he wouldn’t repeat. The fact that he was already so intrigued by Zoe

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