Silent Masquerade. Molly Rice

had to wait for him at the Museum of Natural History while he took care of some mysterious business elsewhere. He had told her he was going to buy a car, among other things, so that they could drive to Santa Cruz.

      She’d wandered from exhibit to exhibit, but she’d found it hard to focus on anything, when her imagination was so preoccupied with Bill Hamlin and his “business.”

      She came to the earth and shake hall and debated going in to try the “shake table,” which simulated the feeling of an earthquake. She’d decided against it, thinking it made no sense to anticipate the worst. Anyway, she’d had a feeling that living with Bill Hamlin would cause her as much quaking as a woman could handle.

      She didn’t know how long she’d stood just inside the doorway, trying to decide whether or not to enter the hall, but when she went back around the corner to leave, she’d bumped right into the man from the motel in Mount View.

      “Hello again!”

      The man had acted as if he didn’t know her. He’d seemed both shocked and embarrassed when she persisted.

      “Don’t you remember? The motel in Mount View. We met at the ice machine in the hall, and you asked me if I knew where—” She took a deep breath. “And by the elevator. You were already in it, and we were...”

      “Yes. Yes.” He’d almost run from her. She’d furrowed her brow as she watched him retreat, almost running down the hall.

      And then she’d stood there, thinking, Bill is going to find this one coincidence too many.

      But the more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that, except for the coincidence of having run into him again, there was nothing sinister about the man.

      For one thing, he was way too attractive to be some kind of thug. And for another, both here and in the elevator of the motel, he’d seemed more frightened than frightening.

      Still, she knew she should tell Bill, let him be the judge. But then, when he showed up with the car, she’d been so excited at starting the last leg of their journey that the meeting with the stranger had gone clean out of her head.

      She’d given no further thought to the coincidence—until now. And now she knew that if she mentioned it, Bill would be furious with her for waiting so long.

      “We’ll stop up there at that café,” Bill said, pointing over the steering wheel to his left, up ahead. “I’ll bet you’re hungry by now.” The roadside café was lit up like a Christmas tree, beckoning to all the traffic trudging up the mountain.

      “Oooh, that looks great!” Cara sat forward to get a better view of the place.

      Bill glanced over at her and grinned. “You please easy, don’t you?”

      “I guess I do,” Cara admitted. “But isn’t that better than being a malcontent?”

      “Who? You mean me?”

      “Boy, you really are paranoid. No, I don’t mean you, I mean in general.”

      Bill was in line behind another car, waiting for an opening to make a left-hand turn. He barely muttered his response.

      Cara turned the sun visor down to look at herself in the mirror. She could use a bit of freshening up, she decided. A flash of red beyond her reflection caught her eye. She moved her head and saw a red car about two cars back. She was just about to fold the visor back in place, when she glimpsed a face on the passenger side of the red car that seemed familiar.

      Was it the face of the bus driver who’d taken over when they left Mount View on the replacement bus?

      “Bill?” She put her hand on his arm, but he was still concentrating on crossing the road.

      “Hmm?”

      “Bill, I think that’s...”

      “Damn!” Bill slammed on the brakes as the driver of a blue pickup changed his mind about letting him pass in front.

      Cara grabbed the dashboard for support and then sat back with a shaky laugh when Bill turned to make sure she was all right.

      “Sorry,” Bill muttered. “I thought the guy was slowing to let me cross.”

      “It’s okay,” Cara said, pushing her hair back behind her ears.

      Suddenly Bill grinned at her.

      “What?”

      “You look a lot younger today. Like a teenager.”

      “Is that a compliment?”

      His grin hung on. “I don’t know, that depends. What kind of a teenager were you?”

      She gave him an impish grin. “Adorable.”

      He laughed softly, and their eyes clung for a moment. A moment in which they both suddenly found the interior of the car way too confining and their proximity far too stimulating.