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Then she remembers the darkening of his eyes and wonders if there is much more to his size than meets the eye.

  They drive down the hill, the Mustang circumnavigating the bends on the road as if it is glued to the asphalt.

  “Do you always drive this fast?” she asks.

  “Always. You scared?”

  “No.” Then she remembers the white Merc swerving onto their lane and she says, “I’ll take that back. Yes.”

  “Don’t be. So what are you and your brother doing in a town like Dolphin’s Bay?”

  She replies cautiously, “We came here to start a new life, make ourselves a home.”

  “Where do you come from?”

  “Arizona.”

  “Why did you decide to leave?”

  She glances at his perfect profile. “The usual. Fell out with my family. Jared lost his job in a downsizing exercise and so we decided to start afresh.”

  Her voice trembles slightly. She is not very good at making up stories. But that was what she and Jared had agreed on as a cover when the locals asked them why they left.

  “In Dolphin’s Bay?” He eyes her quizzically. “You’d be better off in Arizona.”

  “Jared wants to try something new. Maybe something to do with forestry. He has always loved the forest. He’s taking a break now, but he will find something eventually.”

  “If he’s interested in forestry, he has come to the right place. We are surrounded by nothing but forest. And of course, the ocean.”

  “I know. We did our research on Dolphin’s Bay before we drove here.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You look as if you’ve left college not too long ago. Do you work?”

  She hesitates, wondering how much to tell him. “I trained as a physiotherapist. I work with people.”

  “Physio. Cool. I could use a little physio myself after racquetball. You do massages as well?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow.” He seems impressed.

  She blushes again. Stop being a schoolgirl! You’re twenty-four years old!

  “So what do you do?” she asks.

  She doesn’t expect him to reply with an affirmative profession, being in a family of multimillionaires, and so she is surprised when he says, “I’m in real estate.”

  “Selling properties?”

  “Yeah, buying and selling properties and stuff. My family owns a real estate agency. We buy houses and buildings, refurbish them and sell them for a profit. Or else we rent them.”

  Figures.

  “That sounds interesting.”

  “Not really.” He laughs. “But it’s what keeps the Walkers going.”

  And they are kept going very nicely, she thinks.

  “And you run the hotel as well?”

  “We have a manager to run the hotel and the other hotels we own in Oregon State.”

  “Where do you live? In a hotel?” she teases.

  “Actually, I do. It’s called the Chatterly, and I live in a suite pretty much like yours. I like the convenience and the room service.”

  Yes, she can quite see him living the bachelor life in a hotel where he can come and go as he pleases.

  “What about your family?”

  “They live in their own little house on a hill. It’s just my Dad and my sister, Margarete. My Mom died when I was in my teens.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His handsome face clouds for a second. “Yeah.” Then it passes as soon as it appeared. “The Chatterly is where we are going now.”

  “Oh?”

  He wants to get me into bed so soon? she thinks, disappointed.

  “Yes. It has a killer Italian restaurant called ‘Figo’s’. The best in the state, quite honestly, or maybe I’m biased. I hired the chef myself from Sardinia. He does the meanest fish soup I have ever tasted outside of Italy.”

  “Fish soup?” She wrinkles her nose. Being brought up in the desert, fish is not that appealing to her tastes.

  “You’ll see what I mean.”

  The rest of the ride is filled with amiable ‘getting to know you’ banter. Shannon is completely at ease. She has not enjoyed being with a man in such a long time. Maybe it’s because he’s so handsome and personable and he is flattering you with so much attention.

  They arrive at the Chatterly, which is another old-style mansion with multiple branching wings which has been converted to a boutique hotel. Again, the gardens are resplendent with lush blooms.

  “It’s beautiful,” she says in wonder.

  “I have an excellent horticulturist. We grow our own flowers in our own greenhouses.”

  Is there nothing his family doesn’t own?

  He parks the car in a reserved parking lot amid the other cars in the crowded parking area. Then he comes around again to open the door for her. He has amazing manners, she decides. He probably uses them to charm a lot of girls into his bed.

  He escorts her into the hotel, whose reception area is crowded tonight with a whole lot of well-dressed people. The air rings with their chatter and occasional laughter.

  “We are hosting a wedding party tonight, but that would be in the ballroom.”

  He steers her into the direction of a restaurant done in white, green and red colors – the colors of the Italian flag. A sign in gold lettering says ‘Figo’s’.

  He makes a face. “Tacky, I know, but this is a small town and sometimes you have to practically beat folks here over the head to let them know this is an Italian restaurant. Subtlety just doesn’t do it.”

  Inside, the restaurant is filled with patrons. The tables are lined with white paper instead of cloth, and Shannon sees some people scribbling onto the paper with provided crayons. The low bustle of dining chatter fills the dimly lighted atmosphere.

  “It’s full,” she notes, disappointed.

  “No worries.” Lucien smiles at the maître ‘d, who is hastening through a path between the tables to come to him. “Full house tonight, Gino?”

  “Indeed, Mr. Walker. But there is always a table for you and your lovely lady friend.” Gino appraises Shannon as though to say, Good choice. Or he might have been thinking, Poor girl will be dumped after tonight.

  They follow Gino to the back of the eatery behind a screen. Here, some discreet tables have been set up. Oak paneling separate these into booths, and the plush red berth chairs are affixed to the dividers. The same paper covers the tables. Neatly folded paper napkins are placed for two persons per table.

  “It’s more private here,” states Lucien.

  They take their seats on the farthest table, which is situated right against a wall. The folded ‘napkins’ are actually menus, Shannon discovers.

  “Fish soup?” she asks, trying not to wrinkle her nose.

  He notices and laughs. “I’ll share one with you. Trust me, it’s divine.”

  Twenty minutes later, she is inclined to agree. The fish ‘soup’ is actually a huge, thick broth filled with mussels, clams, fish, vegetables and so many flavors that it is practically bursting with taste. The soup is served with crusty bread, and Shannon swears she has never eaten anything more hearty or delicious in her life.

  “I think I’m already full,” she declares when she has finished her fourth piece of bread.

  “We haven’t even gotten to the entrees yet.”

  “I know,” she says in dismay. “Can I cancel mine?”

  He laughs. “We can do a doggy bag.”

  The entrees are grilled chicken breast on polenta for her and a rich tomato-based cream pasta for him. Shannon can only eat half of hers before pushing her plate away.

  “That fish soup really did me in,” she groans.

  “You are a woman of small appetites.” He grins. “I hope that only pertains to food.”

  Again, she catches the double entrende. He has been flirting with her all night, dropping hints in their casual conversation. Letting his eyes roam to her breasts now and again. Letting her know how much he is drinking in
the sight of her. It is extremely flattering and yet disappointing.

  Is this all men see me as? she wonders.

  But the talk all evening has been extremely pleasant. They chat about small things, inconsequential things. She asks about his family. He tells her amusing anecdotes. She laughs. He asks about her family. She tells him it’s too personal and fobs him off. He accepts this graciously.

  “Do you want dessert?” he asks as their dining draws to a close.

  “Oh no.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I’m stuffed up to here.” She raises her palm to the level of her throat.

  “Great. I’m kind of stuffed too.” He signals to a waiter. “Check, please.”

  “You have to pay to dine at your own restaurant?”

  “It helps keep the accounts clean.”

  Once he has signed the bill, he gets up and offers her his arm. “Shall we?”

  “Where are we going?” She wonders if he will ask her to go to his suite.

  “You like gardens. So I thought we’d take a walk in this one. It’s still light out there and it’s a glorious sunset.”

  “Thanks for dinner.”

  “Night isn’t over yet.” His eyes say: Not by a long shot, if I can help it.

  They grab their jackets and go out into the reception. It is a lot quieter now that the wedding party has gone up to the ballroom. The lack of raucous noise is a balm. She fleetingly wonders what her brother is doing.

  “You warm enough?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  He puts his arm around her anyway. His embrace sends tingles all over her skin under two layers of clothing. She can smell his sweet manly scent, which is not enhanced by any cologne or eau d’ toilette. There is something else other than man musk there. It is an undertone of something more forbidding. Primal. Dangerous.

  The garden in twilight is even more glorious than its initial promise. Carefully pruned bushes are shaped in spheres and lambs and rabbits. Crazy paving forms paths around the greenery. A profusion of flowers in full bloom – roses, azaleas, others native to this region – are laid in careful precision to make the greatest color impact to the eye.

  Shannon’s spirits soar. She dances away from Lucien and soaks in every glorious sight. He laughs at her delight.

  “This is gorgeous!” she exclaims as she spins round and round to take everything in. She feels like a little girl again. “I have never seen anything more gorgeous!”

  “I thought that would be me, but I’ll settle for being second best.” He smiles.

  In twilight, all the colors are muted, but they take on a sleepy hue, as if she is viewing everything through tinted glasses.

  “We have a maze,” he announces.

  “A maze?”

  “Yes. Very English, I know. It’s a small one. Come, I’ll show you.”

  He shepherds her further down. Here, the garden is fringed by the forest – dark, mysterious and watchful. The forest spreads up the hills for as far as the eye can see. A small shiver of foreboding spears her.

  Bad things happen in that forest. She can feel it in her bones.

  “Hey, you OK?” he asks.

  She shakes herself out of it. Bad things happen in every forest.

  She wonders where Jared is.

  “Sure. I’m just a little cold, that’s all.” She pulls her jacket tightly over her dress.

  He is all protective again. His arm goes around her and the heat of his body once again brushes against her skin. He is nice and warm, like a shielded furnace. She knows she should not be close to him for too long or she will get burned.

  The opening to the maze is an arched doorway made out of hedge. The entire maze has walls of hedges towering seven feet high so that anyone inside will be not be able to peer over the top unless he were over seven feet tall.

  “I had this designed so that even I won’t be able to peek,” Lucien explains.

  “I take it that you know this maze like the back of your palm?”

  “That I do. Come in. It’s well-lighted in there and there are surprises to be found at every corner.”

  “Really?” She is intrigued.

  They enter the maze. The corridors here are narrow, but can be traversed by two people who are walking side to side. Lucien is right. Garden lamps are placed on the ground in every bend and curve to light the way for the maze-crawler.

  After the first few bends, the maze starts to branch out into several options. You can go right or left. You take a path. This path further branches into a right or left.

  “Look, the first surprise.” Lucien points at the stone statue of a fairy at the turn of a bend. “There are clues carved at the base of every surprise. You’ll have to collect them all to discover what the message is in the end.”

  “Clues?” This is getting interesting, she thinks.

  “Yes.”

  They come up to the fairy. It is a delicate stone sculpture. To her surprise, the fairy is male – naked with a fig leaf covering his privates and wings sprouting behind his back. She is amazed at how exquisitely his face has been crafted. The statue comes up to her breasts. The fairy’s stone orbs are empty and they stare unseeing.

  “See if you can find the clue,” Lucien says.

  She studies the statue and bends down to look at its base. The statue is lighted by a low lamp on the ground. She supposes the whole maze is wired down there.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “Look closer.”

  Her eyes scan the base, and then she sees it.

  A symbol. It resembles a snail with a long body.

  “Is it a snail?” she asks.

  “Horned Viper, actually. It is ancient Egyptian.”

  “You mean hieroglyphs?” Her excitement mounts.

  “Yes.” He laughs at her enthusiasm. “I did tell you I have a creative horticulturist.”

  “Wow.” She digs into her purse for her cellphone. “I will have to snap photos of this so that I can remember every clue.”

  “Good call. Beats the old pen and notepad.”

  He watches her amusedly – taking pleasure in her delight – as she focuses her phone camera aperture at the base of the statue to snap a photo of the horned viper.

  “What else is there?” she asks eagerly.

  “You lead the way.”

  The maze continues, and she feels completely safe in here with Lucien to bail her out should she lose her way. The maze is larger than she thought possible, and she is sure she has not been down any path twice.

  The ‘surprises’ come in the form of statues – nymphs, sprites, fauns, satyrs. The ‘clues’ she has collected now form a veritable list:

  A leg.

  A hand.

  A leaf.

  Another leaf.

  A wave, or at least, a blue wavy line denoting a wave.

  Another hand.

  An open mouth.

  What does it all mean?

  “Have I got everything?” she asks Lucien.

  “Pretty much. I’m not supposed to be helping you solve this, but there’s one more clue.”

  “Then we’ll have to find it,” she says, laughing.

  She is the one leading him this time. She figures they must be somewhere at the end of the maze, because she can see the dark forest looming closer than it did before. The sky has gotten considerably darker as well, something she hasn’t noticed because she was so preoccupied with finding the clues. Dark clouds scud across the horizon and a chill descends.

  “It’s getting colder,” he remarks. “You want to go in?”

  “And not finish the puzzle? No way!”

  He grins. In the burgeoning darkness, his face shines like a pale moon – all angles and completely and dazzlingly beautiful.

  “All right. But we should be getting in soon. Looks like another storm coming. A big one this time.”

  She shivers. “Does it always rain so much here?”

  “In this particular region? Yes. This town is situated on a vortex of tr
ade winds and it has its own micro-environment. It’s complicated, but if you are interested to learn more about it, there’s a natural history museum here. It’s not very big, but it contains a lot of interesting things about this region.”

  Yes, she would be interested in that. Dolphin’s Bay is beginning to be a lot more interesting than she initially thought it would be.

  She notices that he doesn’t offer to take her to the museum. It is because he doesn’t intend to see her again after tonight, of course. She keeps reminding herself about that fact, and that she doesn’t and shouldn’t care. But somewhere at the corner of her psyche, it rankles.

  Nevertheless, she has a maze to finish.

  Turning her face away from him so that he will not see her sudden cloud of disappointment, she delves into the next part of the maze.

  “Hey, wait up,” he says, laughing.

  She stops short, and he almost bumps into her back. She stares at the final statue at the end of the leafy passage.

  “What’s that?” she finally says.

  He is staring too. He doesn’t speak. The statue is that of a witch. Or at least, a witch in folklore garb – with robes and a tall pointed hat and a broomstick. But the statue of the witch is not placed upon the ground like the others. This one would have come to her midriff as well, like the others, had it been so.

  But now it is hanging by its neck from a rope which has been fashioned into a noose. The end of the rope has been tied to a protruding metal stick which has been stuck into the hedge. Shannon can only imagine the weight of the statue and the counterbalance on the other side to keep it hanging that way.

  Even as she watches, the rope is beginning to fray.

  “Is this meant to be the surprise?” she asks cautiously.

  “No.”

  His tone is sharp this tone, but she knows it is not directed at her.

  The light allows her to see the inscription at the square base of the statue.

  The inscription is that of a rope fashioned in the shape of a noose.

  Lucien strides to the statue. He is visibly upset. He seizes the stone witch by the waist and wrenches it away from the rope. She already knows how strong he is, and so she is not surprised to see him successfully do this. The rope breaks away at its weakest point, and the metal rod is jerked downward, rustling and snapping the branches of the hedge wall.