Found In Lost Valley. Laurie Paige

Seth asked quietly, as if seeing her distress.

      She managed a smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that.”

      “I think I’m jealous of the man who brought that look to your eyes.”

      “It—it was my grandfather,” she stammered, startled by his statement and the darkening of his eyes.

      “Ah,” he said enigmatically. “Where’s your purse?”

      “In my sitting room.”

      Ignoring her protests, he retrieved her purse and a jacket, then took her outside to his vehicle, a silver pickup with four-wheel drive and a camper unit.

      “Do you camp?” she asked, buckling the seat belt once they were inside.

      “Not since my teenage days.”

      She eyed the well-worn truck. He’d had it since he got out of college, she knew. “I thought lawyers drove BMWs and traded them in every other year.”

      “You’ve been watching too many movies,” he said wryly.

      Propping her sore right foot on her left knee, she shut up and enjoyed the ride. The fall colors were splendid, especially the buttery-gold of the aspens, which lined the creeks and gorges in the mountains. In town, maples had been planted in nearly every yard, adding brilliant red and russet to the mix.

      Amelia relaxed with an exhaled breath. Her granddad had told her to learn to enjoy or endure that which couldn’t be changed. Glancing at her companion, she couldn’t help but smile.

      “What?” he demanded, taking her by surprise.

      “I decided to enjoy the ride, since there apparently isn’t anything I can do to change it.”

      “A wise philosophy.”

      He flicked her a glance that caused her heart to speed up, and heat to gather deep inside her. The ache of desire was almost as painful as the ache of a sprained ankle, she found. And it wasn’t one-sided.

      He’d never in any way referred to that interlude of passion they’d shared so long ago, but the knowledge of it was in his eyes and in the unspoken awareness between them.

      She stared out the window until they arrived at the Dalton homestead. As they drove through the entrance—a huge log mounted on two others over the gravel driveway—she saw his uncle Nick, his cousin Travis and Travis’s new wife alight from a station wagon.

      “I thought that must be some of the family in front of us,” Seth said. “I saw their dust when they turned onto the ranch road.”

      He parked beside the car and came around to help Amelia out of the pickup. He shook his head when she declared she could walk, and lifted her.

      “Amelia, glad to see you,” his uncle said, coming over to them. “Seth called yesterday and told me about the accident.” He clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “Glad to see you taking care of things. How’s your foot?” he asked Amelia, spearing her with his intensely blue gaze, which contrasted so effectively with his silver hair and tanned skin.

      “Fine, thank you,” she said, shaking his hand.

      He was a handsome man. Lean and erect, he had to be seventy or better. The lines on his face showed both the worries and the laughter he’d experienced. His wife had died in a car wreck years ago, shortly after the orphans had come to live with them, and his daughter had been kidnapped at the same time. Or so everyone thought. No trace had been found of the three-year-old since the accident.

      Amelia identified with his grief. Losing her grandparents had been like having a large part of her own heart torn out by the roots.

      Travis and Alison greeted her warmly, then went to their house by a short trail through the woods.

      “Let’s go in,” Seth suggested. “She’s not getting any lighter.”

      Uncle Nick, as everyone called him, laughed at this and led the way inside. Amelia was placed on a leather sofa and the TV turned on to entertain her while the two men went in different directions.

      Seth reappeared in fresh clothing—jeans and a V-neck sweater in royal-blue. Other than the sweat-suit, he’d had to wear the same clothing he’d arrived in on Friday. He went into the kitchen.

      She’d often wondered how they did things in this mostly bachelor household. There’d been only one girl among the six orphans, Seth’s half sister, Roni. Soon it was obvious, as the two males finished preparations for lunch, that they were well used to working together, and that neither was a stranger to the ranch kitchen.

      Fifteen minutes later, Travis and Alison arrived, each carrying an item. “Dessert,” Alison said. “Pumpkin pie.”

      “And real whipped cream,” Travis added.

      Amelia said it sounded delicious. The couple had changed from their Sunday clothes to jeans and long-sleeved chambray shirts. Tall and fit, they were a charming pair, him with the nearly black hair and blue eyes of the Dalton gang, her with blond hair and smoky-green eyes.

      As it had the previous day, time passed swiftly. During a meal of baked chicken and mushroom dressing—Uncle Nick promised Amelia the recipe—they spoke of politics and happenings in the state. Alison’s father was running for governor and she reported all was going well there.

      “Are you still helping with his campaign?” Amelia asked.

      Alison had stayed at the B and B during the summer and the two had become friends. The younger woman now taught business classes at the county high school.

      “I mostly write press releases. However, I’ve made two speeches, one before three hundred wives of retired state employees and another to a teachers’ group,” she said.

      “But no more,” Travis said firmly. “We’re expecting an addition to the family in late spring.”

      There was a moment’s silence, then Seth broke it with his hearty congratulations. “Hear that?” he demanded of his uncle. “You’ve finally gotten your wish. The future generation is now assured.”