he was undoubtedly right in arguing that Fitzgerald had died at sea. The authorities who had investigated the incident had agreed.
Jamie decided that she had spent too much time listening to Miss Isabel trying to pretend her brother was still alive. The poor woman had simply not wanted to accept the truth. And because she was so fond of her employer, Jamie had found herself occasionally beginning to doubt the facts.
Well, it was only fair enough, she supposed. After all, it was Miss Isabel's belief that her brother was still alive that had given Jamie the excuse she needed to seek out Cade.
"What the hell do you mean, she checked out half an hour ago?" Cade roared at the startled desk clerk.
"She was supposed to be ready for breakfast at seven o'clock!"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Santerre," the middle-aged woman said for the tenth time. She was clearly affronted.
"She said nothing about having an appointment with you. She simply paid her bill and left. Said she had a long drive ahead of her."
Cade leaned forward, both large hands spread flat on the desk. "That means she's headed for Big Sur."
The woman backed up a step, uncertain of the temperament of this man who was practically accusing her of aiding and abetting Jamie Garland's escape. "Possibly, Mr. Santerre. Yes, quite possibly she's headed home. A, uh, logical destination, I imagine."
"That house in Big Sur isn't her home ," Cade growled dangerously. "It's her office. Her place of employment. She doesn't have a real home of her own."
"Oh."
"She thinks it's charming and adventurous and rather romantic to work for an eccentric artist and live in a picturesque place like Big Sur."
"Well, it does sound kind of interesting," the woman said placatingly, clearly having no idea at all about the subject at hand. "I mean, isn't it close to Carmel? Such a lovely little town, Carmel."
Cade showed his teeth in a smile that would have done justice to a wolf. "It is not charming or adventurous or romantic to me. As far as I am concerned, it is not even interesting. Her job has become a damned nuisance, in fact! It would have made things a lot simpler if Miss Isabel had fired her six weeks ago."
"Miss Isabel?" the clerk inquired warily.
"If Miss Isabel had fired her, Jamie wouldn't be suffering from a case of excessive, misplaced loyalty.
Nor would Jamie have had someone to shelter her for the past six weeks. She wouldn't have had any place to run this morning. She would have been forced to accept the fact that she needs me and that deep down she wants me."
"I see." The clerk nodded very cautiously.
With an abrupt restless movement Cade straightened and turned toward the door. "Why am I standing here yelling at you?"
"I was wondering the same thing myself."
Cade didn't hear the muttered answer to his rhetorical question. He was already halfway out to the parking lot. The little idiot had flown the coop. More evidence than ever that she must be pregnant. He'd always heard pregnant women tended to be high-strung and occasionally irrational. It seemed to him that he remembered his brother-in-law complaining, albeit good-naturedly, about Meg's moods when their first child was due last year.
Then again, it wasn't strictly accurate to call Jamie the idiot. He was the fool for letting her get away last night. He should have taken a firmer stand with her, overwhelmed her sensually, shown her that he could crush any defense she had raised against him.
But he hadn't thought it necessary to push her that hard. He'd been under the impression that the battle had been won already. After all, she'd come looking for him, hadn't she? That trumped-up excuse about checking into Fitzgerald's death was clearly just that: an excuse.
Cade wrenched open the Mazda door and slid inside. It was perfectly possible that Miss Isabel did, indeed, want some confirmation of her brother's death, but she was an intelligent woman. She had been aware of the rapidly intensifying relationship growing between her