“I didn’t mean it. I don’t like sex.” There, it was out.
He uttered a bark of laughter. “Yeah, right.” Then he stared. “You’re serious.” A rumble issued. “Who was he? What did he do to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She drew away, even as she craved to move closer.
“That’s your privilege.” His fingers tightened, the towel a thin barrier between them. “But know this, Raina Donovan. You’re wrong.” His eyes locked on hers. “There’s passion in you, and it runs deep and hot.”
He let her go. Put distance between them. “One day the right man will show you just how wrong you are.”
His words stirred the cold ashes of abandoned hopes. Within her, one faint ember flickered. She spun, putting her back to him.
Liam saw the tiny knobs of her spine, the ribs that showed too prominently beneath her skin as she hunched to cover herself.
Hell. If he behaved as he should and walked away from her, she would blame not him but herself.
But if he remained and did as he craved so badly to do, she might never forgive him, once his identity was revealed. Without knowing who he was, she was already preparing herself for him to cast her aside. How much worse would it be once she knew?
And she would have to find out, sooner or later, unless he left now.
Caught on the horns of his dilemma, he studied Raina. If ever a woman’s body language said two different things, hers did.
So Liam ignored what his own needs demanded and did what was right. With only a little regret, he swept her up in his arms and strode to the bed.
She tensed to resist, but quickly he laid her down with care and slid her beneath the aged quilts. With more self-control than he’d ever practiced in his life, Liam leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Go to sleep. I’ll wash outside.”
“It’s cold out there.”
He paused at the door but didn’t look back. “I’m counting on that.”
The next morning, they moved about the cabin in stiff silence. Hal insisted on cooking breakfast despite her protests. Raina busied herself tidying up, wishing he would leave.
She wasn’t hungry, but he brought her a full bowl of oatmeal. She paid little attention, scooping up the first spoonful and sticking it in her mouth, planning to dawdle until he went back outside to work.
Flavor exploded on her tongue. Apple. Cinnamon. For the first time that morning, she looked into his face. “Where did you get them?”
Mischief rose from his smile to his eyes. Somehow, it was natural on him. For a second, she thought again that she’d seen that cocky grin before.
“Found an apple tree out back, fruit just starting to ripen. A miracle it could grow anything, the way the vines were trying to take over.”
“Gran’s apple tree.” Raina was thrust back years, remembering the scent of apple butter simmering on the cook stove. Nothing went to waste in Gran’s world. No reason to throw them away, she would explain. The peelings are as tasty as the flesh.
With relief at the easing of tension, she expanded. “The days we’d make preserves and apple butter, this cabin would get so hot I’d want to jump into the spring to cool off.”
“Did you?” His voice held none of the unbearable tension of the previous night.
A little bit, she mourned that. A whole lot more, she thanked fate or lucky stars or his common sense.
Relief made her smile. “Are you kidding? She’d have tanned my backside. The spring was her refrigerator, not my swimming hole.”
He laughed. “Any willows around here? Nothing worse than a willow switch. My mother would make us pick our own just to ratchet up the torture.”
“You can laugh about it?” Gran had meted out physical punishment sparingly, but the memory was indelible.
“If you ever met my mother, you’d understand. She needed whips and chairs to deal with the four of us boys. Rafael was always more serious, but Alex…he was wild. And Dane? He’d dare anything physical, try any stunt. The more dangerous the better.” His eyes were fond. “Hasn’t changed that much. I wasn’t a lot of trouble, but only because I was too little. But Mom had her work cut out for her, and she was never a woman to use Dad as a threat. If we earned punishment—which we often did—she didn’t use the old ‘wait till your father gets home.’ She took care of business, all five-foot-two of her, maybe a hundred pounds dripping wet.”
Raina tried to imagine a woman faced with this big man and three equally large brothers. The affection flowed through his every word. “You admire her.”
He paused, mouth full. “Of course.” He swallowed. “Mom’s the best.” He chuckled. “She’d still send any of us to the woodshed if she thought we needed it. Don’t get me wrong—Dad’s a big guy and a definite authority figure, but Mom—” His grin was huge. “Mom’s scary.”
He didn’t seem the tiniest bit frightened. What he did appear to be was a man who admired his mother deeply and knew himself to be wholly loved.
Raina glanced down and realized she’d eaten every bite. The atmosphere in the room had turned comfortable and warm as he painted a picture of life worlds apart from her own experiences. She gobbled it up as she’d devoured the meal.
“Here.” Hal rose, held out a hand. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“Why are you being so nice?”
One eyebrow arched. “You can’t get your bandage wet. I haven’t seen any rubber gloves handy, so it seems it’s up to me.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t think a little case of dishpan hands will kill me.” That quick, devastating grin again. “You can dry. Then I’ll change the bandage.”
They passed an oddly companionable silence broken only by the sound of water sluicing back into the dishpan, the creak of their footsteps across the ancient, cracked linoleum floor, the birdsong outside in the trees.
Later, as he concentrated on peeling away the adhesive tape, she was still intensely aware of him physically. He filled up the tiny cabin with his big body and larger personality. Part of Raina gravitated toward him as a plant stretched to meet the sun, and part of her closed inward for protection, sensing that when he left, the cabin would be forever marked by his absence.
But somehow, there was peace in this moment, and Raina craved peace more than she needed air to breathe. She tried very hard not to waste this respite.
“Gran could draw out fire,” Raina said a few minutes later, half to herself.
“She could do what?” He glanced up from the bandages.
“Nothing—only a mountain superstition.” But Raina had witnessed it herself once, and denying what Gran—and many others—believed made shame swell in her chest. With the heel of her right hand, she rubbed a spot just over her heart.
The interest in his eyes warmed her. “Tell me what that means.”
“It’s silly.”
“Tell me anyway. Abuelita loves to hear about other healing traditions.”
She shrugged. “Some of the older people around here believe that certain healers can call the fire out of a burn and heal it that way.”
“With some sort of incantation?”
She searched his expression for signs of contempt but saw none. “I don’t know what they say. The words are secret. She would lean over the burned part and blow on it while passing her hand over it three times in a motion like brushing it away from the body.” She paused. “Gran said she’d teach me one day when I was ready…” Raina stared into the past, wondering how different life would have been if she hadn’t gone in search of more.
But she had.
“What else did she do?”
“You can’t really be curious about this.”
Both eyebrows rose. “I’m curious about almost everything.” He chuckled. “When I was a kid, I always had my nose buried in a book, trying to find out about this or that, whatever grabbed me at the moment.”
This big, gorgeous male, so vital and physical? “I can’t picture i
t.”
Faint color stained his cheeks. “I get sick of being judged by my looks. I’m tall now, but I was a skinny little runt with thick glasses until late in high school. I know what it’s like to be invisible. There are times when I wish—” He stopped. Glanced away for a second. When he looked back at her, everything personal and private had been wiped away in favor of polite interest. “So…what else did she do?”
The warm interlude had evaporated. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Not everything that heals is logical, Raina. That doesn’t make it invalid.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“You don’t know what I believe,” he said, head down as he focused.
A part of her hoped he would argue. Wanted some evidence that there really was an answer beyond what could stand the test of science.
She’d failed the standard remedies, both physical and psychological. If Gran had been alive, she would have produced the magic Raina was so desperate to find.
But Gran was gone. Only this place was left, faint traces of her inside each log and floorboard she’d tended, every blade and tree and bush she’d nurtured and cherished.
If Raina touched enough of them, dug them from beneath the debris of time and neglect, could she replenish the missing parts of herself and find the woman Gran had once seen in her?
All of a sudden, Raina wanted to be alone. She couldn’t concentrate with him around. He was too alive, too vivid. The comfort and peace were an illusion. He called her out of herself when she desperately needed to burrow in to listen…to probe for answers, to hear whatever wisdom remained as echoes of Gran.
“Thank you for the bandaging.” Voice crisp, she pulled away and rose, smoothing the edges of the tape. “And for breakfast and the dishes.”
He frowned at her. “What did I say?”
Raina called upon every bit of decorum she’d learned as the wife of a head of industry. “Nothing. I simply have work to do.”
He stared at her. It was all she could manage not to squirm under the scrutiny.
“Yeah, okay.” He spent far too long repacking the first-aid kit. “I’ve got plenty myself.”
“You don’t have to—”
He held up one palm to stop her. “Don’t say it again, Raina. I’m not leaving yet.” His gaze met hers, and the green eyes were as sharp as the emeralds they resembled just then. “I can move my things into the barn if that would make you feel better.”
The nights were getting colder. He drove a luxury car and had the smooth polish of a well-fed creature, yet he’d accepted the primitive conditions without complaint and now he would move into even less welcoming quarters if that was what it took for her to let him stay.
She was ashamed of herself and knew Gran would be, too. No matter how set on self-reliance Gran had been, she would never have made a stranger feel so unwelcome. Raina forced herself to unbend, though it felt far too dangerous.
“I’m sorry. I—” She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “It’s rude of me not to be better at accepting your help. I don’t understand why you’re doing it, but—” She forced herself to confront him head-on. “I thank you for all you’ve done.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And I don’t want you to sleep in the barn.”
His eyes were oddly tender, as if he understood the cost to her. “I won’t hurt you, Raina.” Then he turned away and left.
“Yes, you will,” she whispered.
Chapter Eight
Liam stopped at the car on the way to the barn. He glanced over his shoulder to be sure she was still inside, then grabbed his cell phone. With long strides, he covered ground, headed to a clear spot out of sight.
Time to check messages, in case his mother had called.
Four from Sal, each one increasingly frantic. Liam stifled his impatience; Sal was only doing what he’d been hired for, protecting Liam’s interests and advancing his career. That Liam’s career seemed so distant and unimportant these days wasn’t Sal’s fault.
So you’re ready to throw it all away? He could hear Sal’s nasal voice challenge him. Everything we’ve worked so hard to create?
Liam’s hand holding the phone banged against his thigh as he stared out across the suffocating, wild tangle of green. What’s your problem, buddy? He asked himself.
But he had no answer. Only a vague, unnamed itch. A burr beneath his skin that made him restless and uneasy with a sense of something missing.
It was just this whole uproar with Kelly, probably. An unholy mess, indeed, one he’d only too gladly dropped into the laps of his staffers, primarily Annie, while he took off to figure out how the hell to deal with how angry he was at a dead woman.
Oh, yeah. His folks would be so proud.
Shaking his head, Liam lifted the phone again and finished his messages. Annie’s forced a grimace. His dad’s made him smile.
“Son,” Hal Sullivan’s voice boomed. “Your mama is worried about you. You know I don’t like your mama worried. I’m proud of you for helping that little lady, but we’re ready to see you at home. I just got the prettiest filly you ever laid eyes on. Bring the lady with you. Nothing much a good dose of working horses won’t help.”
Liam chuckled at the same moment his heart twisted with longing to do just that—go home.
He took a deep breath and dialed. Sal first, then Annie. Face the music, you jerk.
Then he’d reward himself with a call to his dad.
Sal still wasn’t happy about Liam’s decision to stay here for a couple of weeks. What could you possibly find interesting, surrounded by hillbillies? Liam could visualize Sal’s shudder. Anything between New York and L.A. was the wasteland to his agent. Sure, somebody out there bought movie tickets, but box-office numbers were all Sal wanted to know about them. Nothing else mattered.
Liam forced himself to tune back in.
“For chrissake don’t get yourself snakebit or anything while you’re there. No hiking, nothing strenuous—remember the insurance policy. Think about camera angles. No scars, you hear me, Liam? You sit on a goddamn porch and look out at the sunset or whatever the hell people do when there’s no civilization, but you just remember that in five more weeks, that director’s gonna want your bare ass looking prime. Capisce?”
Liam glanced down at his scraped knuckles and blisters and barely stemmed a laugh. “Got it, Sal. Now, go chew on your cigar and leave me alone.”
“You drive me freakin’ nuts, ya know that, kid?”
“I love you, too, Sal.” Liam gave in to his chuckles then. He could still hear Sal’s good-natured cursing as he disconnected the call.
One down. He dialed Annie’s cell. He wasn’t sure why she bothered with an office; she was never still long enough to sit at a desk.
“Where the hell are you?” She didn’t bother with preliminaries. In the background, he could hear voices and clatter overlaying what sounded like the hiss of an espresso machine.
Annie sucked down coffee the way a vampire gorged on fresh blood. If her veins were pricked, she’d bleed dark brown.
“Hi, Annie.” He was overcome with nostalgia for a life that seemed beyond his reach in more ways than simple distance. Only a few weeks ago, his biggest worry had been which scripts to accept. “How are you?”
Instantly, her voice warmed. “I’m good. Worried about you, though. Talk to me, Liam.” He knew that it was more than business with Annie, that if she were in the same room, she’d be clasping his arm, and her elfin face, with its horn-rimmed black glasses, would be screwed up in concern.
They’d flirted briefly with the idea of an affair. Annie was several years older than him, but that wouldn’t have mattered. She was an interesting woman.
Instead, they’d decided to be friends. Annie had a soft spot for all her clients, but he thought she had a special one for him.
Right now, he couldn’t let himself tap it. “Press hounds gotten tired of me yet?”
“Are you kidding? Disappearing only whetted their appetites. They’re
straining at the leashes, sniffing the ground for the slightest clue.”
“I’m sorry. It’s rough on you.”
She snorted. “Get real. This stuff sets my juices running. Makes me feel kinda hot and bothered.”
Liam laughed out loud. “You’re priceless, Annie.”
“All in a day’s work, my boy.” Then her voice sobered. “How are you, honestly, Liam? Not the press release but the real deal. What’s going on?”
“I’m just hanging out…” He glanced around him. “You know I can’t handle the city life for months on end without going nuts.”
“I do, but I’m talking about Kelly. Tell me you’ve accepted that there was nothing else you could do for her.”
“Wasn’t there? I got so fed up with her antics, and I—” He closed his eyes. “She called me last, Annie. Me. A cry for help, and I hung up on her.”
“Liam, listen to me. She played mind games with you. She used you, used your fame and your money as crutches to keep from looking at who she really was. She was weak, damn it, and no one could fix that but Kelly. Didn’t I help you clean up after her for two years while she did everything possible to make your life hell? All along, she counted on the fact that, bighearted sap that you are, you’d turn yourself inside out for her. I could kill her myself for contacting you—”
“Whoa, Annie. Stop. Maybe that’s true. Perhaps she was like the others and mostly what she wanted was to be seen with Liam Sullivan the film star. But that doesn’t change the fact that inside her was a sweet, mixed-up girl who got lost in the Hollywood lifestyle, and it killed her. She wanted too much, and I gave it to her because I was too caught up in all of it to see what was happening to the innocent girl I first met. I killed her, Annie, as much as those pills did.” Nothing anyone could say would change his responsibility.
“Liam, you need to talk to someone. You’re dead wrong. What does your family tell you? If you won’t come back to the real world and get some counseling, why aren’t you in Texas with Abuelita, letting her do her magic?”
One drunken night by the pool, he’d talked to Annie about his family in a detail he shared with no one else in the life that had never seemed fully real. “It’s not magic. And I don’t want to take this home to them. I’ll figure it out myself.”
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