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.”

Mari 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.” Mari 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 Mari 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 Mari. 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 Mari 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. Mari 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 flam-boyant 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.”

Mari 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. Mari 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 Mari. Come to that, her attitude toward sex in general had been too liberal for Mari’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,” Mari 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.