by Nora Roberts
It was best to play it safe, Jacob decided. If he had somehow miscalculated the time, or if Cal’s report had been faulty—as they had sometimes been before—it wouldn’t be wise to be too specific. “A man. I thought he lived here, but perhaps my information is incorrect.”
Sunny blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Who? What’s his name?”
“Hornblower,” Jacob said, and used his smile for the first time. “His name is Caleb Hornblower.” The surprise in Sunny’s eyes was all he needed. Instinctively his fingers tightened on her wrists. “You know him?”
Ideas about her sister’s somewhat mysterious husband sprang into her mind. He was a spy, a fugitive, an eccentric millionaire on the run. Family loyalty ran deep, and she would rather have had bamboo slivers under her fingernails than betray a loved one.
“Why should I?”
“You know him,” Jacob insisted. When her chin came up, he let out a frustrated sigh. “I’ve come a long way to see him.” His lips curved at the understatement. “A very long way. Please, can you tell me where he is?”
When she felt herself softening, she jutted her chin out again. “Obviously he’s not here.”
“Is he all right?” Jacob released her hands and gripped her shoulders. “Has anything happened to him?”
“No.” The very real concern she heard in his voice had her putting a hand over his. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean to—” She caught herself again. If this was a trap, she was falling neatly into it. “If you want any information from me, you’ll have to tell me who you are and why you want it.”
“I’m his brother, Jacob.”
Sunny’s eyes widened as she let out a long breath. Cal’s brother? It was possible, she supposed. The coloring was similar, and the shape of the face. There was certainly more family resemblance between this man and her brother-in-law than there was between herself and Libby.
“Well,” she said after a brief debate with herself, “it really is a small world, isn’t it?”
“Smaller than you can imagine. You do know Cal?”
“Yes. Since he married my sister, that makes you and me . . . I’m not exactly sure what that makes us, but I think we’d be better off discussing it vertically.”
He nodded, but he didn’t move. “Who are you?”
“Me?” She offered him a big, bright smile. “Oh, I’m Sunbeam.” Still smiling, she wrapped her fingers around his thumb. “Now, if you don’t want this dislocated, you’ll get the hell off my bed.”
Chapter 2
They moved apart warily, two boxers retreating to their corners at the sound of the bell. Jacob wasn’t entirely sure how to handle her, much less the bombshell she had dropped. His brother was married.
Once they were standing a careful three feet apart, he dipped his hands in the pockets of the comfortable jeans. He noted that, though her stance was easy, she was still braced, ready to counter any move he might attempt. It would have been interesting to make one, just to see what she would do and how she would do it. But he had priorities.
“Where’s Cal?”
“Borneo. I think it’s Borneo. Might be Bora Bora. Libby’s researching a paper.” She had time to study him objectively now. Yes, there was a definite resemblance to Cal, in the way he stood, in the rhythm of his speech. But, even though she accepted that, she wasn’t ready to trust him. “Cal must have told you she’s a cultural anthropologist.”
He hesitated, then brought out the smile again. He wasn’t nearly as concerned now with what Cal had or had not told him in his report as with what his brother had told this woman named Sunbeam. Sunbeam, he thought distractedly. Was anyone really named Sunbeam?
“Of course.” He lied smoothly and without compunction. “He didn’t mention he’d be away. How long?”
“A few more weeks.” She tugged the red sweater down over her hips. She could already feel bruises forming. It didn’t annoy her. She had held her own—well, almost held her own—against him. And she hoped she’d get another shot. “It’s funny he never said you were coming.”
“He didn’t know.” Frustrated, he looked out the window at the snow and the trees. He’d come so close, so damn close, only to wait. “I wasn’t sure I could make it.”
“Yeah.” With a lazy shrug, she rocked back on her heels. “Like you couldn’t make it to the wedding. We all thought it was odd that none of Cal’s family showed up for the big day.”
He turned back at that. There was definite censoriousness in her voice. He didn’t care for it—he rarely tolerated it—but in this case it was almost amusing. “Believe me, if we could have been here, we would have.”
“Hmm. Well, since we’ve finished wrestling, we might as well go down and have some tea.” She started toward the door, flicking a glance over him as she passed. “What degree black belt do you have?”
“Seventh.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Right.” More than a little miffed, she started downstairs. “I didn’t figure people like you would go in for martial arts.”
“People like me?” He spoke absently as he ran his palm over the smooth wood of the railing.
“You’re a physicist or something, right?”
“Or something.” He spotted a woven throw over the back of a chair in striking colors that challenged rather than blended. Though the look of it tugged at his memory, he resisted the temptation to go over for a closer examination. “And you? What are you?”
“Nothing. I’m working on it.”
When Sunny swung into the kitchen, she went directly to the stove. She didn’t notice the blank astonishment on Jacob’s face.
Like something out of an old video or reference book, he thought as he scanned the room. Only this was much, much better than any reproduction. Delightful, he thought, astonishment turning to pleasure. Absolutely delightful. His hands itched to try out every dial and knob.
“Jacob?”
“What?”
With her brows drawn together, Sunny stared at him. An oddball, she decided. Gorgeous, certainly, but an oddball. And for the time being she was stuck with him. “I said we’re big on tea around here. Do you have a preference?”
“No.” He couldn’t resist. He simply couldn’t. As she turned to put the kettle on to boil, he wandered over to the white enameled sink and turned a clunky chrome dial. Water hissed out of the wide-lipped faucet. Holding a finger under the running stream, he discovered it was ice-cold. When he touched the tip of his tongue to his damp finger he detected a faint metallic flavor.
Completely unprocessed water, he decided. Amazing. They drank it exactly as it came out of the ground. Forgetting Sunny, he stuck his finger under again and found that the water had heated enough to make him jolt. Satisfied for the moment, he turned the water off. When he turned back, he saw that Sunny was still standing by the stove. She was staring at him.
There was no use cursing himself, he decided. He was simply going to have to control his curiosity until he was alone.
“It’s very nice,” he offered.
“Thanks.” Clearing her throat, she kept facing him as she reached behind for the mugs. “We call it a sink. They do have sinks in Philadelphia, don’t they?”
“Yes.” He took a chance, depending on his research. “I’ve never used one quite like this.”
She relaxed a little. “Well, this place is a throwback.”
“I was thinking exactly the same thing.”
As the kettle began to sputter, she turned to make the tea. As she worked, she carelessly pushed her sweater up to her elbows. Long, limber arms, he noted. Deceptively fragile in appearance. He rubbed his own forearm. He’d already had a sample of their strength.
“Maybe Cal didn’t tell you that my parents built this place in the sixties.” She poured steaming water into cups.
“Built it?” he repeated. “Personally?”
“Every stone and log,” she told him. “They were hippies. The genuine article.”
�
��The 1960s, yes. I’ve read about that era. It was a counterculture movement. Youth against the establishment in a political and social revolution that involved a distrust of wealth, government and the military.”
“Spoken like a true scientist.” A weird one, she added silently as she brought the mugs to the table. “It’s funny to hear someone who was born during that time talk about it as if it were as far removed as the Ming dynasty.”
Following her lead, he sat down. “Times change.”
“Yes.” Frowning, she watched as he rubbed a fingertip over the table’s surface. “It’s called a table,” she said helpfully.
He caught himself and picked up the mug. “I was admiring the wood.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s oak. My father built it, which is why there’s a matchbook under one of the legs.” At his blank look, she laughed. “He went through a carpentry phase. Almost everything he built in this place wobbles.”
He could barely imagine it. Oak split from an actual tree and formed into a piece of furniture. Only those with the highest credit rating could afford the luxury. Even then they were limited by law to a single piece. And here he was, sitting in a house made entirely of wood. He would need samples. It might be difficult with her watching him, distrusting him, but it wasn’t impossible.
Thinking it over, he sipped the tea, stopped, then sipped again.
“Herbal Delight.”
Sunny lifted her mug in salute. “Right the first time. We could hardly drink anything else without risking a family crisis.” With a shake of her head, she studied him over the rim of her mug. “It’s my father’s company. Didn’t Cal tell you that, either?”
“No.” Baffled, Jacob stared into the dark, golden tea in his mug. Herbal Delight. Stone. The company, one of the richest and most expansive in the federation, had been established by William Stone. The myths about his beginnings were as romanticized as those about the nineteenth-century president who had been born in a log cabin.
No, not a myth, Jacob thought as the fragrant steam rose from the cup. Reality.
“Just what did Cal tell you?”
Jacob sipped again and struggled for patience. He wanted to record all of this as soon as possible. “Just that he had . . . flown off course and crashed. Your sister took care of him, and they fell in love.” The old resentment welled up in him, and he set down his mug. “And he chose to stay with her, here.”
“You have a problem with that?” In a movement that mirrored his, Sunny set down her mug. When they eyed each other now, there was as much dislike as distrust in their looks. “Is that why you didn’t bother to show up at the wedding? Because you were annoyed that he decided to get married without clearing it with you?”
His eyes, shades darker as anger grew, snapped to hers again. “No matter what or how I felt about his decision, I would have been here if it had been possible.”
“That’s big of you.” She shot up to snag a bag of cookies from the pile of groceries. “Let me tell you something, Hornblower. He’s lucky to have my sister.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“I would.” Sunny ripped the bag open and dug in. “She’s beautiful and brilliant, kind and unselfish.” She gestured with half a cookie. “And, if it’s any of your business—which it isn’t—they’re happy together.”
“I have no way of knowing that, either.”
“Whose fault is that? You’ve had plenty of time to see them together—if it really mattered to you.”
There was fury, rash and dark in his eyes now. “Time has been the problem.” He rose. “All I know is that my brother made a rash decision, a life-altering one. And I intend to make certain it wasn’t a mistake.”
“You intend?” Sunny choked on a cookie and had to snatch up her mug and drink before she could speak again. “I don’t know how things work in your family, pal, but in ours we don’t make decisions by committee. We’re each considered individuals with the right to choose for ourselves.”
He didn’t give a damn about her family. He only cared about his own. “My brother’s decision affects a great number of people.”
“Yeah, I’m sure his marrying Libby is going to change the course of history.” Disgusted, she tossed the bag of cookies back on the counter. “If you’re so worried, why the hell has it taken you over a year to put in an appearance?”
“That’s my business.”
“Oh, I see. That’s your business. But my sister’s marriage is also your business. You’re a real jerk, Hornblower.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said you’re a jerk.” She tugged a hand through her hair. “Well, you go right ahead and talk to him when they get back. But there’s one thing you haven’t put in your calculations. Cal and Libby love each other, which means they belong together. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do. You can let yourself out.”
She stormed off. Moments later, Jacob heard what he imagined was the sound of a primitive wooden door slamming shut.
An exasperating woman, he thought. Interesting, of course, but exasperating. He was going to have to find a way to deal with her, since it was obvious he’d have to extend his stay until Cal’s return.
As a scientist, he considered it a tremendous opportunity. To study a primitive culture firsthand, to talk face-to-face with an ancestor—of sorts. He glanced up at the ceiling. He doubted the volatile Sunbeam would appreciate being considered an ancestor.
Yes, it was a tremendous opportunity—scientifically. Personally, he already considered his association with the primitive woman a trial. She was rude, argumentative and aggressive. Perhaps he had the same traits, but he was, after all, superior, being older by several centuries.
The first thing he was going to do when he returned to the ship was open the computer banks and look up what the word jerk meant when applied to a man in the twentieth century.
***
Sunny would have been delighted to give him a concise definition. In fact, as she paced her room she thought of half a dozen more colorful descriptions of his character.
The nerve of the man. To waltz in here more than a year after his brother and her sister married. Not to congratulate them, she thought furiously. Not for a nice family reunion. But to offer his half-baked opinions as to whether Libby was worthy of his brother.
Creep. Jackass. Imbecile.
As she swung past the window, she spotted him down below. Her hand was already on the window sash, prepared to lift the glass so that she could shout the epithets at him. Her anger snapped off as quickly as it had ignited.
Why in the world was he walking into the forest? Without a coat? Narrowing her eyes, she watched him trudge through the snow toward the sheltering trees. Where the hell was he going? There was nothing in that direction but more trees.
A question sprang into her mind that she’d been too occupied to consider before. How had he gotten here? The cabin was miles from town, and a good two hours’ drive from the nearest airport. How the devil had he managed to pop up in her bedroom, coatless, hatless, gloveless, in the middle of winter?
There was no car, no truck, not even a snowmobile, outside the cabin. The idea of him hitchhiking from the highway was ludicrous. A man didn’t simply walk into the mountains in January. At least not if he was sane.
With a shudder, she stepped back from the window. Maybe that was the answer. Jacob Hornblower wasn’t just a jerk. He was a deranged jerk.
That was an awfully big leap, she told herself. Just because she didn’t like him wasn’t a good enough reason to assume he was crazy. After all, he was Cal’s brother, and over the past year Sunny had become very fond of Cal. Brother Jacob might be an annoying, interfering pain in the neck but that didn’t mean he had loose screws.
And yet . . .
Hadn’t she thought he was weird? Hadn’t he acted weird? She looked out the window again, but the only sign of him was the fresh tracks in the snow.
Cal seemed normal enough, she mused, but what did an
y of them know about his family or his background? Next to nothing. It had always seemed to Sunny that her brother-in-law was strangely close-mouthed when it came to his family. She glanced back toward the window again. Maybe he had his reasons.
The man had acted odd right from the start, Sunny decided. The way he’d come into the house unannounced to stand in her bedroom and pore over a copy of Vogue as if it were the Dead Sea Scrolls.
Then there was his behavior in the kitchen. Playing with the faucet. And staring. It was as though he’d never seen a stove or refrigerator before. Or hadn’t seen one in a very long time. Her mind was jumping like a rabbit. Because he’d been locked up, she thought. Put away where he wasn’t a danger to society.
Catching her lip between her teeth, she began to pace again. Her foot connected with his flight bag. Jolting backward, Sunny stared at it. He’d forgotten it. That meant he would be coming back.
Well, she could handle it. She could take care of herself. Rubbing her palms against her thighs, she stared down at the bag. But it wouldn’t do any harm to take a few precautions.
Going on impulse, she knelt down. Invasion of privacy or not, she was going to look through the bag. It was odd itself. No zipper or straps. The Velcro peeled apart almost soundlessly. Casting one guilty look over her shoulder, she began to dig.
A change of clothes. Another sweater, black this time. No label. The jeans were soft and obviously expensive, though there was no designer name on the back pocket. No label anywhere. And they were new. She would have sworn they had never been worn. Setting them aside, she pushed deeper. She found a vial marked fluoratyne that contained a clear liquid, and a pair of high-top sneakers in supple leather. No shaving gear, she mused, no mirror. Not even a toothbrush. Just a set of obviously new clothes and a vial that might very well contain some kind of drug.
Her last discovery was the most puzzling of all. An electronic device, no bigger than the palm of her hand, was tucked in the corner of the bag. Circular in shape, it was hinged back. When she opened it she saw a series of tiny buttons. After touching the first, she jumped back at the sound of Jacob’s voice.