Dark Paradise (6 page)

know you'll get a good, honest meal. No skimping here, and the coffee's

always hot and strong."

"I'm sold."

Nora shot a discreet glance at the brown and white polka-dot dress that

swirled around Marilee's calves and the paddock boots and baggy crew

socks, but there was no flash of disapproval in her eyes. Marilee liked

her instantly.

"I love your hair," the waitress said. "That your real color?"

Marilee grinned. "Yep."

She followed Nora inside and slid into a high-backed booth that gave her

a view out the wide front window.

She deposited her books on the Formica table and forgot them as she

tried to absorb everything she could about this first experience in the

Rainbow. She had read every travel guide and tourist brochure there was

anyway. One of her vows to herself when she had decided on a new life

was not to let it speed past her while she was too busy trying to fit

in. She had spent too much time with her nose to the grindstone, the

world and its people hurtling past her in a blur. When she had decided

to come to Montana, she had gone to the library and checked out and read

every book available about the state. She had immersed herself in tales

of cattle barons and copper barons and robber barons, and in

descriptions of mountain ranges and meadows and high plains.

But the Rainbow was the real thing, and she didn't want to miss a sliver

of it.

The air in the restaurant was warm and moist, redolent with the rich,

greasy scents of bacon and sausage, and the sweet perfume of pancake

syrup. Beneath it all lingered the strong aromas of coffee and men, and

above it hung a pall of cigarette smoke. The tables were cheap, the

chairs serviceable chrome and red vinyl that had probably been sitting

there for three or four decades. Marilee wondered if anyone realized the

decor would have been considered trendy kitsch in the hip diners of

northern California.

Somehow, she didn't think anyone at the Rainbow Cafe in New Eden,

Montana, would give a good damn. The thought made her smile.

A quick reconnaissance of the customers told her she was the only woman

in the place who wasn't wearing a pink uniform. Regardless of shape or

size, the men all had the look of men who worked outdoors and made their

living with their hands greased, leathery faces, narrow eyes that gave

her hard, direct looks, then slid away almost shyly.

She ordered all the fat and cholesterol on the menu, not in any mood to

count calories. She hadn't had a substantial meal in weeks, and she had

a long day ahead of her. Better to face it on a full stomach. While she

waited for Nora to bring the food, she gazed out at the wedge of town

she could see through the front window.

There was an old-fashioned hardware store across the street with a wide

front porch and an old green screen door. Shiny new spades and rakes and

pitchforks leaned against the weathered white clapboard. A sign in the

window advertised a special on wheelbarrows. Next to the hardware store

was a drugstore that had been established in 1892 according to the

ornate gold lettering on the front window. Next to the drugstore, gaudy

spandex in neon colors hung like pieces of indecipherable modern art in

the window of Mountain Man Bike and Athletic.

The sight of the bike shop was jarring, but not nearly so jarring as the

sight of a money-green Ferrari purring down the street. Incongruities.

"Here to buy land?" Nora asked as she set down a plate heaped with

golden pancakes and another loaded with bacon and a Denver omelette.

"No, I'm-" It didn't seem right to say she was on vacation in the wake of

Lucy's death. "It's more of a pause at a life crossroads."

The waitress arched a thinly plucked brow and considered, accepting the

definition with a nod of approval.

"Guess I've seen a few of those myself."

Marilee snapped off an inch of bacon and popped it in her mouth. "I came

to visit a friend for a while, but that isn't going to work out after

all."

Nora hummed wisely. "Man trouble, huh "

"No. She's - um - she's dead."

"Mercy!" Her dark eyes went wide in a quick flash of surprise. Then she

pulled her practicality back down around her like a skirt that had been

caught up by a sudden gust of wind. "Well, yeah, that'd put a damper on

things, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah." Marilee forked up a chunk of omelette and chewed thoughtfully,

letting a moment of silence pass in Lucy's honor. "Maybe you knew her,"

she said at last.

"Lucy MacAdam?
 
She'd been living here for about a year."

Several other diners glanced her way at the mention of Lucy's name, but

her attention was on the waitress. She already thought of Nora of the

Rainbow Cafe as being honest and dependable, a woman who would know the

score around whatever town she called home.

"No . . ." Nora narrowed her big brown eyes in concentration and shook

her head as if trying to shake loose a memory to connect with the name.

"No . . . oh, wait.

"Was she that one got shot up on Rafferty's Ridge?"

Rafferty. The name gave Marilee a jolt that was like an electric shock.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," Nora cooed in sympathy, giving her a motherly

squeeze on the shoulder. "I didn't know her. That crowd she ran with

don't come in here much."

"What crowd?"

"That Hollyweird bunch. Bryce and all them. Don't you know them?"

"No. I never met any of Lucy's friends here." She had heard bits and

pieces about them, details Lucy dropped extravagantly into her few

letters and conversations, like brightly colored gemstones, designed to

dazzle and impress. Celebrities. Important people. Movers and shakers

who came to New Eden for some trendy communing with nature. The kind of

crowd Lucy would be drawn to for the excitement, the novelty, the

notoriety. She had always thrived on being at the center of the storm.

"Well, that's a strike in your favor with me," Nora said dryly. "They're

big tippers, but I don't go much for their attitudes. I'm not some trick

poodle for them to come in here and snicker at. They can just take all

their money and go play somewhere else as far as I'm concerned."

"Come on, Nora," a warm male voice sounded from the booth behind

Marilee. She craned her neck around and looked up as a cowboy rose and

slid his arms around the waitress. He was trim and athletic with silky

dark hair falling across his forehead and sky-blue eyes brimming with

mischief. He grinned a grin that would have put Tom Cruise to shame.

"You tellin' me you don't want a part in Clint Eastwood's next big

western?"

A grudging blush bloomed on Nora's cheeks even as she set her features

into a scowl. "I'm tellin' you to keep your hands to yourself, Will

Rafferty."

He ignored her command, rocking her from side to side in time with the

crooning of Vince Gill on the jukebox. He laid his lean cheek against

hers and his eyes drifted shut dreamily. "He'd go for you, you know.

You're five times better looking than Sondra Locke ever was. He'd make

you a star, Nora Davis."

"I'll make you see stars," Nora snorted. She pulled her order pad from

the pocket of her starched apron and smacked him in the forehead with

it.

"Ouch!" Will stepped back, making a pained face, rubbing at the spot

where the binding had nailed him.

Nora cut him a look. "You're married, Romeo, in case you forgot." She

snatched up her coffee urn and walked away, turning back when she was

three tables away, a sassy smile canting her wide painted mouth. "And I

am ten times better looking than Sondra Locke with her stringy hair and

runny red nose and no eyelashes."

Will Rafferty threw back his head and laughed, delighted. "Nora, you're

a wonder!"

"Don't you forget it, junior," she drawled, sashaying off toward the

kitchen, her wide hips swinging.

From under her lashes Marilee studied the man standing beside her.

Rafferty. He had to be a relative. There was a strong family resemblance

in the square jaw and chin, the straight browline. He was younger than

the man she had met last night - probably around her own age - and slighter

of build, not nearly so imposing physically. He had the lithe, athletic

look of a dancer. But the biggest difference was that this Rafferty had

no trouble smiling.

He turned the power of that bright white grin on her, blue eyes on high

beam, a dimple biting into his cheek.

The smile was irresistibly incorrigible. Marilee half expected to see

canary feathers peeking out from between his teeth. It was the kind of

smile that made sensible women do foolish things. She felt her knees

quiver, but the weakness never made it to her head. She considered

herself temporarily immune to charming men. One of the few benefits of

getting dumped.

"Will Rafferty." He introduced himself with a flamboyant little

half-bow, then held a hand out to her in greeting. "Welcome to the

Garden of Eden."

"Marilee Jennings. Are you supposed to be Adam or the snake?" she asked

with a wry smile as she shook his hand.

"Cain." He slid into the seat across from her and bobbed his eyebrows.

"As in 'raisin' Cain."

"A comparison your wife finds amusing?"

The smile tightened and he glanced away. "We're separated."

Marilee reserved comment and forked up a spongy cube of pancake.

"So you were a friend of Lucy's, huh?"

"We used to hang out together when she lived in Sacramento. Did you know

her?"

"Yes, ma'am." He stole a strip of bacon from her plate and bit the end

off it, his blue eyes, as bright as neon, locked on hers once again.

"She was something."

He didn't specify what. Marilee wondered if J.D. was the only Rafferty

who had known Lucy in the biblical sense.

Lucy wouldn't have cared that Will Rafferty was married, only that he

was cute as sin and filled out his jeans in a way that pleased her

roving eye. Lucy said it wasn't up to her to be any man's conscience.

Her attitude toward infidelity had always bothered Marilee. Come to

that, her attitude toward sex in general had been too liberal for

Marilee's tastes. Lucy had called her a prude. She wasn't; she just

didn't like the idea of needing a score card to keep her lovers' names

straight.

"Nora said that Lucy was - that the accident happened someplace called

Rafferty Ridge," she said. "Are you that Rafferty?"

"One of," Will replied, sneaking a triangle of toast out from under the

edge of her half-eaten omelette. "Do you always eat this much?"

"Do you always mooch food off strangers' plates?"

He grinned. "Only when I'm hungry." She slapped his hand with her fork

as he reached for another piece of bacon. "The Stars and Bars is up the

hill a ways from Lucy's place. That's Rafferty land. Most of that ridge

is ours. Some's BLM land - that's Bureau of Land Management - some's Forest

Service-"

"You have to be related to J.D. Rafferty, then."

"Yep. That's what my mama always told me," he said with a devilish grin.

"He's my big brother. I never had any say in the matter. You've met St.

John, have you?"

"In a manner of speaking," Marilee grumbled.

She tucked a tumble of wild hair behind her ear and polished off her

second cup of coffee. Nora swept in and refilled her cup, shooting Will

a look. He blew her a kiss and chuckled with good humor when she rolled

her eyes.

"He scared the shit out of me, told me point-blank my friend was dead,

and went on to make it clear to me that he wasn't the least bit sorry

about any of it." She kept the rest of his sins to herself, still