Rocky Mountain Manhunt. Cassie Miles

      She opened the door. “I’m sure mascara is out of the question.”

      She looked damn cute in his nephew’s jeans and T-shirt. Though she was skinny, her curves were unmistakably feminine. Her waist was tiny, and her butt filled out the denim quite nicely. Though her hair was still spiky from being wet, her overall appearance was more tamed. “You look good.”

      “Not hardly,” she said. “I don’t care what the Duchess of Windsor said about how you can’t be too thin or too rich. This is too much.”

      “Too much thin? Or too much rich?”

      “I don’t know about the rich part. You seem to think my family is loaded.”

      He remembered his initial destination: the fax machine in his office. “We’ll find out.”

      She leaned toward him. Her nose crinkled as she inhaled. “You smell like a ham sandwich. I want one.”

      Stepping inside his office, he scooped a handful of pages from the fax. He wasn’t surprised by the speedy response; Molly was efficient.

      Then, he led the way to the kitchen. “There’s the fridge. Help yourself.”

      She stood with the refrigerator door wide open. “Everything. I want everything.”

      Moving at warp speed, she grabbed bread, mayo and lunch meat. Before she put together a sandwich, she was distracted by an orange which she juggled from hand to hand before biting into the rind. In seconds, she had it peeled. Two sections popped into her mouth. The cheese didn’t reach the countertop. Kate folded the slice and devoured it.

      “Potato chips!” She snatched the bag from the counter and ripped it open. A couple of chips followed the cheese.

      Liam stepped back to avoid being accidentally consumed by this human eating machine. He sat at the kitchen table and watched with amusement as Kate sampled bites of everything she touched. Like a kid given free rein in a candy store, she was tempted by each item, and she ate with blissful abandon.

      But it only took a few minutes before she stopped. She placed her hand on her flat stomach and said, “I’m already full.”

      Her eyes were so mournful that he chuckled.

      “All this great food,” she said, “and I can’t fit more than a couple of bites inside me.”

      “There’s plenty of time,” he said. “Take a break. You can eat more later.”

      “True.” She brought a can of soda to the kitchen table, popped the tab and took a sip. “I love fizzy things. Soda. Seltzer. Champagne.”

      “You’re a little fizzy yourself,” he said.

      Her smile of pure satisfaction gratified him. He’d never seen a woman so pleased by so little. He wished they could have more time together. Just the two of them.

      As she licked the salt off a potato chip, she circled the table to stand before him. “I’m glad you convinced me to leave the mountains.”

      When she leaned toward him and patted his cheek, he inhaled the clean fragrance of soap and shampoo. The electric blue of her eyes sent a jolt through his body. He wanted to pull her closer, to taste her mouth, to discover if she kissed with the same appetite she showed for food.

      “Thank you, Liam.” Her voice was soft and a little breathless. “You rescued me.”

      “You were doing okay on your own.”

      “But you came along at exactly the right moment.” Her smile was honest, warm and fresh as…Rain.

      When she had been Rain, she’d belonged solely to him. He was the man who had discovered her, the only person who had seen her mountain cave. He wanted to keep her for himself. In Rain, he had met a woman who matched, even surpassed, his need for quiet and solitude. A woman who embraced the mountain life. A wild woman who was tough, gutsy and not afraid to be alone.

      For now, Liam needed to deal with her other identity.

      “All right, Kate.” He handed her the faxes. “I contacted CCC, and they sent some photos to help you remember.”

      She sat at the table and looked at the photograph on top. “A wedding picture.”

      Kate recognized herself in that gorgeous, lacy gown. Then she looked at the face of the groom. “Jonathan Proctor,” she murmured. “We’re divorced.”

      “Sorry,” Liam said.

      “Don’t be. It wasn’t a good marriage. We did a lot of fighting.”

      Unpleasant memories flowed like a river across the parched surface of her mind. She and Jonathan had seldom seen eye to eye. He’d coped by shutting down and refusing to speak, except to criticize.

      She had a very clear image of herself and Jonathan sitting at opposite ends of a long, ornate table. Neither of them said a word.

      “The divorce,” she said, “was practically the only thing we agreed about. He still works at RMS. In fact, he’s the CEO.”

      Liam gave her a disbelieving look. “Are you telling me that your ex-husband runs the Carradine family business?”

      “He’s good at his job, and I hardly ever see him. Jonathan handles the business and development projects. My work is on the charitable side.”

      As she focused on a photograph of herself and a Little League baseball team, a pleasant warmth rose inside her. She enjoyed working on fund-raising events, many of which were athletic in nature since Rocky Mountain Suppliers was, essentially, a sporting-goods company.

      Pointing to a group photo, she picked out a face. “This is Rachel Robertson.”

      “You mentioned her before,” Liam said.

      “She runs a homeless shelter, and she’s helping me with plans to set up a mountain camp for disadvantaged kids. Some of the money from the RMS summer gala was going to finance it.”

      “The summer gala?”

      “It should be happening in a couple of weeks.” If the plans for the gala had been derailed by her absence, Kate would never forgive herself. Several charities depended on contributions raised by the formal dinner, dance and silent auction. “It’s a black-tie event.”

      “Not my style,” he said.

      “Maybe it should be. You’d look great in a tux.”

      Actually, he’d look great in almost anything. As Liam gazed down at the faxed pages, she studied his profile. Dark stubble outlined his firm jaw. Beneath his rugged brow, his deep-set, hazel eyes glowed with health.

      He pointed to a picture. “Are these the Williams sisters, from tennis?”

      “Venus and Serena,” she said. “Right.”

      “And you’re standing between them. You were in good shape.”

      The photo showed her as a sunshine blonde in a white tennis dress. Her teeth were perfect. Her skin was perfect. She wondered if she’d ever be so carefree again.

      With Liam, she sorted through other photos of celebrity golf tournaments and tennis matches. For nearly an hour, she stared at picture after picture, waiting for a memory revelation that simply wouldn’t come. “It’s no use,” she said. “I can’t remember why I needed to stay in hiding.”

      “Maybe more food.”

      “Always a good solution.”

      They took a break and made hamburgers. Liam took his turn in the shower.

      Then, it was back to the photos. Kate picked up another wedding photo. It was her mother with her husband of two years, Peter Rowe.

      Liam said, “It might help you remember if you talk your way through these pictures.”

      She