Her lips parted in surprise. “Okay, that could be evidence that he went there. Do you think he would have gone to such lengths to convince you to come home?”

  “Come to think of it, he did once tell me he would have to keel over dead to bring me home for good, he believed. I never thought he would pretend to do it.”

  “But how could the doctor friend be in on the deception, if he is?” Jessie asked. “Unless your uncle told the doctor the dangerous work you were doing, not exactly what though, and somehow he convinced him to go along with the plan.”

  “That would be unethical. Besides, I’m here now. And I quit the job.”

  “Your uncle wouldn’t know that. He could think if he showed up to see you at the resort, and you realized he was still alive, you would just return to your old job.”

  “Okay, that’s true.”

  “All right. I think we have enough to think on.” She leaned over to kiss Emerson’s lips, and he thought the way she was kissing him gingerly good night, she was leaving the bed. Unfortunately.

  He kissed her back, her mouth warm and soft against his, his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging. Man, he hadn’t had a rampant need for a woman like this in forever. He was hoping she would stay, but if she wasn’t ready for anything more than that, he didn’t want to push his luck. His uncle might think Jessie was the right one for Emerson, but that didn’t mean that either he or Jessie would feel the same way about each other.

  She pulled away from him and smiled. “Uhm, I had another thought.”

  “You got that from a kiss?” He had figured she would have been thinking only about the kiss and more, like he had been doing.

  “I often get all kinds of wild ideas when I go to bed.” She smiled at him. “What if your uncle has a girlfriend in Florida?”

  “Hell, I never thought of that.” Emerson tried to recall anytime his uncle might have revealed he was interested in a she-cat, but he couldn’t remember any. He suspected his uncle might not have wanted to mention one, worried Emerson would feel he was being disloyal to his mate’s memory. But Emerson knew his uncle had loved her with all his heart and if he was ready to fall in love again, Emerson was all for it.

  “Can you access his emails? We could look through his rental agreements and see if anyone had come here from Florida. A single woman, maybe? A cougar, though we wouldn’t know that for sure. But it’s just another idea.” Then Jessie slipped out of bed. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning, but then I need to write.”

  He sighed. “What if you get more wild ideas tonight?” Maybe another kiss would do the trick.

  “I will write them down in my notebook.” Then she slipped down the hall and he sighed again.

  The next morning, Emerson bundled up to check on things outside the house, but peeked in the guest room to see if Jessie was all right first. The guest room door was open, which made him think Jessie had wanted to hear if anything was going on in the house that could give them trouble in the middle of the night. She was sleeping soundly, her head resting on one pillow and her arms wrapped around another, as if she was holding him tight. Wouldn’t the real deal be even better? For him, it would. He smiled, then headed outside to make sure they hadn’t had anyone return in the middle of the night.

  After investigating each of the cabins and the shed, he didn’t see anything amiss and returned to the house where he heard Jessie in the bathroom.

  “Would cinnamon pancakes work for you?” he called out.

  “Oh, yes, thanks!”

  He made them cinnamon pancakes while Jessie came out of the bathroom, dressed in jeans, slipper boots, and a red and green-striped sweater, her blond hair curling about her shoulders. She looked huggable and kissable.

  “Hmmm, those smell great.” She smiled.

  “Yeah, perfect for Christmas.” He hadn’t planned to make any for himself, but then with Jessie here, he was really getting into the Christmas spirit.

  She set the table for them, though he was going to suggest she just work on her story. He didn’t want her to feel she needed to move back to the cabin because she couldn’t get anything done on her book.

  “How’s the story going?” He served up their pancakes and she poured them both cups of coffee and then they sat down to eat.

  “Good. I am a little bit ahead on my word count as of yesterday, though I try not to let myself backslide on reaching my daily goals and just figure I’ve written some bonus word count in case something comes up and I can’t get in my regular day’s work. I heard you go outside to check things out and watched you from the bedroom window. You should have waited for me to get dressed. You don’t have any backup yet.” She raised her hand to stop him from commenting. “I know, I can’t shoot a weapon, but I have 911 on speed dial.” She pulled out her phone.

  He laughed. Then he thought about her book and realized he should have asked more about it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, just that other things had been taking his focus. “What are you writing, exactly?”

  “In the book, if you’re interested and I don’t bore you, it’s a dark and stormy night when she ‘meets’ the hero telepathically at a club and he ends up dancing with her. Then later, someone breaks into the heroine’s home and she communicates with the hero telepathically to tell him she’s in trouble.”

  “Does he save the day?” If it had been Emerson, he sure would hope he would be there to save the woman.

  “They are in this together, so not exactly. But he stays at her house to protect her for sure. He has to teach her how to deal with the voices in her head though.”

  Emerson smiled.

  Jessie pointed her fork at him. “I know you don’t believe in them, but psychics are real. At least in Yuma Town, they are. Bridget, also a CSF agent, can read minds.”

  He couldn’t help smiling again. He just needed proof that such a thing was possible for him to believe in it. He’d never known anyone who had that kind of ability.

  “I would just love to see Bridget read your mind sometime.” Jessie smiled, then took another sip of her coffee. “And Leyton and his twin brother, Stryker Hill, who is one of our deputy sheriffs, can see ghosts. Not all the time, but sometimes. Like when they were at a ghost town. They just are more attuned to things like that when the rest of us aren’t. Stryker’s mate, Nina, and her twin sister, Ava, can see future events. Nina is also a full-time deputy sheriff and Ava works in a bakery.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Just you wait. When you meet the rest of the cougar family of Yuma Town, you’ll see. Besides, who knows? Maybe we are all capable of having a sixth sense but we’re in such denial, we don’t even realize it.”

  “Okay.”

  “You don’t believe me, but we can make a believer out of you. Most others who don’t have any psychic gift in Yuma Town felt the same way as you until they saw what they could do.”

  “I’ll keep an open mind. Not to change the subject, but in the book you’re writing, do they learn who the housebreaker was?”

  “Not yet. They’re still working on it. She’s sure her parents were murdered. The police and everyone else believe the car accident was just that. An accident.”

  “But you know the truth.”

  “Only that it wasn’t an accident. But not who, when, or why. Yet. But it will all come out in the end.” She sighed and praised his pancakes then, which delighted him. “These are delicious. I need to make them for the family for Christmas morning. You and I could make them together.”

  “We can sure do that.” Which sounded a lot like she would be letting on to her family that they were dating. “Okay, so I have a question.” He leaned back in his chair. “If my uncle wanted me to mate you—”

  “Get to know me,” she corrected him and took the last bite of her pancakes.

  “Court you. What would we do about living arrangements? Let’s say he’s in Florida with a girlfriend. I’m here at the resort, managing things. Your family is in Loveland and Yuma Town, Colorado.”

  “I was thinking about that. Hypothetically, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I live with my parents and with the kind of work I do, I could actually live anywhere. And if I start writing novels, rather than publish books of photos like I used to do, I’ll want to be in one place—writing. Living with my folks is not conducive to writing. My mom always thinks that if I’m doing research on the internet—and that can be anything from checking out clothes the characters are wearing to the homes they’re living in—I’m just playing around. She has a cake business, and she expects me to help her bake or decorate them if I have nothing better to do with my time. She doesn’t understand that my time spent researching things is just as important as the time I spend writing on the story. It gives me more things to write about. Nor would living near my sister, with all their kids, work well for writing. I could just see me offering to take care of the kids now and again, since I have no willpower when it comes to my nieces and nephews.”

  “This is a great place to set the mood while you’re writing your stories.”

  “It is. That’s why I come here every winter. I could see getting snowed in and just—writing.”

  He raised a brow, smiling. “I could think of other things to do.”

  She chuckled. “I just bet you could. Not only that, but when family wanted to visit, we would just make sure they had a cabin or two to stay at.”

  “We could even block out times for them to visit every year.”

  “Yeah, right. Hypothetically.”

  He smiled. Things were looking up. He loved it here, but he’d had the thought that living here alone all the time, except when he had guests and even that wouldn’t be the same as having a family in his life, could be…lonely. Especially since his uncle wasn’t here any longer, unless they could resolve that issue and he returned to the resort. But being with her, well, Jessie would sure liven things right up. If they were snowbound? Hell, no way would she spend all the time working on her story if he could convince her otherwise. Besides, she would have to take breaks and she was writing a romance. He could certainly give her some ideas in that regard.

  “I’m going to clean up the dishes and try to access my uncle’s password again,” he said.

  “Okay.” She began to help clear the dishes, even though he wanted her to concentrate on writing her book. He could take care of all this.

  Still, he enjoyed having her bump elbows with him as she loaded the dishes in the dishwasher next to the sink, and he began cleaning the frying pan. It made him think of hearth and home and really settling down with a mate. He’d never even thought in those terms before.

  “Thanks for breakfast. It was so good.” Then she kissed his mouth, which gave her an advantage as her hands were free, and his hands were holding the soapy scrub brush and the other, the dirty frying pan.

  Still, he kissed her back, telling her he was willing to see just how far he could take this—but later. She had to work and so did he. He had to discover what was going on with his uncle—and the bears. And the way she pulled away, he knew she wanted to get to writing too.

  “Okay, I’m off to work,” she said and headed into the living room where she sat on the couch and began typing away on her story on her laptop.

  He finished cleaning the frying pan, set it on a mat to dry and then headed into the office, determined to get into his uncle’s computer.

  All morning, Emerson searched for notes that his uncle might have made of his passwords. He found no sign of them. Emerson thought Uncle Paul might have had them on his computer, but he just had to get into the computer first. He wondered why his uncle wouldn’t have taken his laptop with him, if he was still alive. But both his laptop and main personal computer were on his desk. Then again, if his uncle was trying to hide the fact he was alive, he would know Emerson would assume something was wrong if one or both had vanished.

  Emerson tried every date he could think of—birthdays, weddings, deaths—in combination with every family name, just anything, but nothing would work as a password to get him into the computer. He tried to think of any time his uncle might have hinted at his password. Emerson didn’t remember a time when Uncle Paul had told him what it was outright. But people changed passwords, so whatever he might have told Emerson years ago could have been changed at any time.

  Emerson left the office. “I can’t get into the computer to see my uncle’s emails and accounts. I’m going out and try to straighten up more of the shed before your friends get here.”

  “Do you want me to help?” Jessie got up off the couch and stretched like a sexy feline.

  “How is your writing coming?”

  “I’ve got my word count and I need a break.”

  “Okay, yeah, sure. I figured I would look and see what I could find that might be missing. Then we can have lunch. Do grilled ham and cheese sandwiches appeal? I have the bread and ham sliced off the bone and I saw you have the slices of sharp cheddar cheese.”

  “Yeah, absolutely.”

  They bundled up and went outside. When they reached the shed, he turned on the light inside and they began to pick everything more of the stuff and hang tools on pegboards on the walls.

  “They didn’t really break anything,” she observed.

  “Yeah, they just made a mess of things like they were trying to make it appear that they were looking for something, when they weren’t,” he said. “I don’t see anything missing from here.”

  “Well, like when they came to my place, as bears, it would have been hard to grab anything important and take off.” She hung up two rakes. “Hey, at sunset, I want to take more pictures on the water, if you don’t mind coming with me.”

  “Sure. I’d like that.”

  “We could do that before the guys arrive.” She found a brand-new doorknob still in its package. “Hey, can you use this to replace the other?”

  “Oh perfect. It’s got the keys and everything. I’ll change that out.”

  She continued to straighten up the shed and when he finished changing out doorknobs, she said, “By the way, I’m officially hungry. Are you ready to make sandwiches for us?”

  “I am. And we’ll get warmed up in the house.”

  “Yeah, good idea. It’s cold out here. You need a heated shed.”

  They went inside and he made the sandwiches while she made them hot cocoa.

  While he was still making the sandwiches, she went into the office to try and figure out a password to get into his uncle’s computer. She looked through all the drawers, but didn’t see anything that looked like a password.

  “Lunch is ready,” he called out.

  “Coming. I couldn’t figure out a password either.” She left the office.

  They ate their sandwiches and drank their cocoa and then she went back to working on her story, and he started checking records in the file for reservations. He knew his uncle also had files on his computer, but his paper registrations when guests checked into the resort were in the file cabinet, and at least Emerson had access to that.

  He just had to find the files. He kept searching through drawer after drawer until he found the one that contained the cabin registrations for the last five years and he began searching through them until he came up with a registration this past summer, right after he had chanced to see his uncle and then returned to work to take on a mission.

  Guests had come from all over, but these guests were from Naples, Florida, which happened to be near the Big National Cypress Preserve. A coincidence? Robbie Randall and two female companions, Drew and Candice Cramer from Naples, no phone number though.

  “I might have found something.” He took the registration form into the living room to show it to Jessie.

  “Oh, more than a coincidence, don’t you think?” she asked, looking at the registration.

  “Yeah. Come to think of it, his cell phone was missing.”

  “So you can’t check texts.”

  “And we can’t check his emails if he’s been emailing her.”

  Jessie’s lips parted. “Phone bills.”

  “Okay, I’m checking.” He went through the files and found some for earlier years while she helped him look through some of the papers. “There is nothing here that would indicate he was in contact with anyone from Florida earlier on. There are no paper bills for the last two years, so I suspect my uncle went to online billing.”

  “Which means we still need to get into his computer,” she said.

  “Exactly. Hacking into computers wasn’t anything I ever did on the job though.” He tried calling his uncle’s cell phone but it had been disconnected.

  “Me either. I still say that brochure on the preserve and the fact that three women from Naples near there were visiting here in the summer could mean something. I have an idea.” She went to her laptop and looked up the names for the Florida area. “I have a home listed in Naples here under the one woman’s name, Robbie Randall. Now if only they would say if she was a cougar or not.”

  “Is there a phone number listed for her?”

  “No. Of course not. Otherwise, we could just call her and see if she abducted your uncle, if she was a wild cougar woman.”

  Emerson smiled at Jessie. He couldn’t imagine a wild she-cat seducing his uncle. “I’m back to sorting through papers. I need to make some order out of this and hope the CSF agents can help us unravel what’s going on.”

  “I agree. I’m back to writing.” But she was taking some notes from the website that had Robbie Randall’s address. Then Jessie opened up Facebook and began searching for someone with that name. Jessie sighed. “There are tons of women by that name on Facebook. Four-hundred and thirty, to be exact.”

  “I’ll start checking them out to see what I can find. If she lists Naples, Florida as her home, it could be our woman. Of course if I try and contact her, she might be concerned.”

  “How many times has she been here at the resort?” Jessie asked.

  “Just the once.”

  Jessie shook her head. “That doesn’t sound really promising as far as a relationship goes.”