Suspicions: A Twist of FateTears of Pride

by Lisa Jackson

  “Anyway—” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t all that important “—I came across an ad for this place. I’ve always had a fascination for the sea and the wilderness, not to mention rustic old cabins. And I thought it would be good for Krista. This place sounded perfect.”

  Erin nearly choked on the wine that she had been sipping. She eyed the interior of the cabin speculatively. “You’re not telling me that you bought this place sight unseen?” she gasped, unable to shake the astounded look from her face. It hardly seemed “perfect” for anyone, much less an eleven-year-old girl bound to a wheelchair! Erin surveyed the living quarters more closely. The old cabin needed a lot of work. The cleaning alone would take several days, and the varnish on the pine walls was cracking and beginning to peel. There was no hot water, the floors needed to be refinished, and the furniture—all of it needed to be replaced or repaired. The list of jobs seemed endless to her practiced eye.

  Kane watched Erin with obvious amusement. The deep-timbred tones of his laughter drew her attention back to him. “No,” he laughed, “I haven’t bought this place. In fact, this weekend is just a trial run. A widow owns the place, but she hasn’t been up here since her husband died a couple of years ago. She knows that I’m interested in buying it, but she agreed to rent it to me for the weekend—to look around for myself.”

  “You’re really serious about buying it?” Erin gasped. “It doesn’t even have electricity!”

  “Part of its charm, wouldn’t you say?” He grinned at her obvious dismay.

  “It’s your money,” she conceded with a dismissive shrug, and took another sip of her wine. The bright embers from the fire and the heady effect of the wine lured her into a serene sense of complacency. She watched Kane over the rim of her cup, and noticed the mood swing that seemed to come over him.

  At her offhand comment about money, Kane stiffened. “That it is,” he agreed almost inaudibly. He set the remains of his uneaten dinner aside, and stared into the orange and black coals of the fire. His mood had indeed shifted, and Erin, even in her peaceful state, could sense that the tension was coiling within him again.

  The fire crackled and popped as it burned the pitch-darkened wood. The movements of the flames reflected in menacing shadows over the angular structure of Kane’s masculine face. His question surprised Erin.

  “Did you know that Mitchell Cameron’s arraignment hearing is scheduled for late this week?” he asked in an accusatory voice. Gray eyes slid sideways, trying to catch her reaction. His pose was relaxed, his hands crossed comfortably over his chest, but Erin could sense the strain due to the twist in the conversation, and saw the tense rigidity of the muscles in his face.

  “I read about it in the paper,” she replied unevenly. Carefully, with nervous hands, she set aside the rest of her suddenly unappetizing sandwich and took another drink from her cup. The cool wine felt smooth against the rough texture of her throat. Mitchell Cameron had become a taboo subject between Erin and Kane, a topic that was never brought out into the open. It was as if, by silent agreement, neither person would chance the subject of Mitch. For reasons Erin didn’t understand, the subject of Mitch was a potential powder keg. Why then, tonight, would Kane turn the conversation in Mitch’s direction?

  Kane’s voice broke into her fragmented thoughts. “There’s a chance that I’ll be out of town at the time of the hearing.”

  “But don’t you have to testify?”

  “I’ve already signed a sworn deposition,” was the clipped reply. “I’m sure it will satisfy the court.”

  “Oh, Kane.” Erin sighed, suddenly feeling very tired and unnerved. “Are you sure that you want to prosecute Mitch?” she asked, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.

  He withdrew as quickly as if he had been seared by her touch. Twisting his head to meet her startled gaze, he drew his lips into a thin and menacingly grim line. “Is that what this is all about?” he demanded, and grabbed her wrist harshly.

  “What—I don’t understand!”

  “Is that what you want, for me to drop the charges against your ex-employer? Is that why you’ve been so willing?” Steely eyes swept over her body and charged her with a crime she couldn’t understand.

  “Why, you…bastard!” she gasped, suddenly understanding at least a part of his vicious accusation. Involuntarily she drew her free hand backward in an effort to slap him. But she stopped in midswing as the same tortured look that she had seen so often in the past softened the severity of his dark gaze.

  He dropped her wrist and closed his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry,” he whispered huskily.

  “You should be!”

  “All right!” He reached a hesitant hand to her cheek and caressed its regal lines with exploring and sensitive fingers. “I have no choice,” he assured her. “I have to prosecute Cameron. The board of directors would insist upon it, the bonding insurance company….”

  “But if you did have a choice?” Liquid violet eyes melted into his, and he drew his caressing hand away from her face.

  “Nothing would change! I would still prosecute!” He stood up and put some distance between her body and his. He found it difficult to think when he looked at her or touched her. She was too close to him and to the truth. Perhaps, even now, she knew that he suspected her of involvement in the embezzlement. He had to be cautious with her—or did he? Damn it! Never in his life had he let a woman come between him and his purpose in life. Never had a woman been so intimately involved in his private thoughts. Dear God, why did it have to be this woman who attracted him so achingly? His thoughts weighed heavily on him, and he leaned against the broad mantel of the fireplace and let his head rest against the worn wood. He needed time to think, time alone, to put his life in perspective. It was a mistake bringing her to this isolated haven; he should have realized that before he insisted that she accompany him. How could he have been such a fool? Where was his common sense? His voice, a throaty whisper, crept across the thick silence that separated them.

  “Can’t you understand, Erin?” he pleaded. “Mitchell Cameron is a crook, and he has to pay.”

  “But surely, as president of the bank, with your influence…”

  His gray eyes held hers frozen. “Oh, God, Erin. My influence has nothing to do with my responsibility!”

  “Why is the subject of Mitch always so difficult?”

  “You tell me!”

  “I don’t know!” she admitted honestly.

  The silence was an electric current that seemed to bind them together and yet sever whatever peace they had shared. Kane eyed Erin with a haunted wariness that seemed to tire him, and Erin watched him with eyes naked in love and confusion. What was he trying to say?

  He leaned against the mantel and rubbed the base of his head with his palm. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, as if he were trying to rid his body of tension. Slowly he seemed to relax; his tight muscles lengthened. With the effort his weight sagged wearily against the fireplace. “I think,” he managed to say, “that you and I should drop the subject of Mitchell Cameron until after the arraignment hearing.”

  Erin let out a steadying breath. “Do you really suppose that I can just ignore the fact that Mitch’s fate depends on your decision?”

  “Correction,” he cautioned sharply. “His fate depends upon his decision, one that was made quite some time ago. Not mine! I had nothing to do with it except unfortunately to catch a thief.”

  “I don’t know that I can just erase it from my mind—as if we’ve never had this conversation.”

  “Just for the weekend?” he suggested, and bent near to her. He took both of her hands in his and forced her to look deeply into his eyes. “I’m sorry for the outburst. The past two weeks have been a strain on both of us,” he said in an effort at apology. “But let’s just spend this time together and get to know each other a little better.” Deep lines of intense thought creased his forehead. “I—well, I need some time with you. Alone. Apart from Mitchell Cameron and the rest of t
he world.” His voice was a reluctant plea, and before she could answer him, he buried his head between her breasts and held her close to him. “Oh, Erin,” he whispered, his hot breath tantalizing her skin and arousing her breasts to an aching tautness. “Why do you tempt me so?”

  Ignoring the doubts and warnings that still crowded her mind, she felt herself surrender to him, and her hands wound themselves in the thick strands of his burnished hair. Feeling her reaction, he slowly pulled his head away from the softness of her body and looked longingly into her eyes. Her breath came in short gasps, and she felt the warmth of desire curling upward in her body. A nearly wicked grin stole over his face as his fingers played with the buttons of her blouse. She made no move to stop him, and when the blouse finally parted, his gaze sought and found the swollen ripeness of her breasts.

  She longed to be touched by him, to feel the heat of his body capture her soul and the essence of her being. Red and orange flames were reflected in the burning passion of his gaze.

  “Do you know, do you have any idea, just how much I need you?” he asked, before covering her lips with his and seeking the open invitation of her warm, moist mouth. She couldn’t get enough of him. The delicious scent and tantalizing taste of his body, in kisses flavored by the wine, lingered upon her lips and teased her senses into a yearning ache that she couldn’t control. His lips explored the length of her body, all of her, gently nuzzling the hollow of her shoulder, rimming her ear, searching out the soft flat contour of her abdomen. “Dear God, how I want you,” he admitted.

  “Then love me, Kane, love me,” she pleaded.

  “I will, Erin,” he vowed, and moved over her, gently probing the most intimate part of her. Even in her drugged sense of well-being, she realized that he was speaking only of physical love, not the eternal love that she had requested. But for the moment it was enough.

  Chapter 9

  The two days that they spent together on the island were carefree and warm. After a light cover of morning fog, the late autumn sun would warm the sand, and for the most part the days were crisply cool and invigoratingly clear.

  Erin taught Kane how to dig for razor clams along the edge of the tide, and after a few hesitant tries, he became rather adept at kneeling in the wet sand and furiously shoveling after the escaping mollusks. Once, when a particularly large wave caught him off guard and sent him sprawling headlong into the bitter, cold surf, Erin laughed, only to find herself dragged down into the icy water by Kane.

  “That will teach you not to make sport of me,” he quipped, before kissing her soundly on her bluish lips. Another cold wave climbed over them, and they both hurried indoors to escape the frigid water and the cool air of autumn. They stripped off the wet, sandy clothes in front of the fire, while warming hot water to clean up the grit from the beach that had clung to their skins.

  For most of the two short days, they spent their time beachcombing or taking the boat into nearby Deer Harbor for sightseeing and browsing in the various antiques stores. It was a wonderful time to be together, and by the end of the weekend, Erin found herself more in love with Kane than she ever imagined possible. She hated the thought of leaving the island and dreaded returning to the city, the job and the pressures that always seemed to build between them at home. She enjoyed the freedom that the island provided and loved being alone with Kane, loved touching him whenever she had the desire, and loved kissing him in the light of day, unafraid of what others might think. Disturbingly she wondered if it was such a fairy-tale existence that it could never be recreated, only remembered. All too soon it would end.

  During the nights they spread a large sleeping bag on the floor in front of the fire, rather than chancing the well-worn and musty bed in the attached bedroom. They spent hours in front of the fire, talking, laughing and making love until dawn.

  It was a glorious, heady experience. The entire weekend was too good to last.

  When, finally, after what seemed a short afternoon, the sun began to set against the cold gray sea, Erin found Kane standing studiously on the porch. She had packed together all of her things, and she knew that it was well past the hour that Kane had planned to leave. And still he lingered. He half stood, half leaned against the railing and stared endlessly out toward the broad expanse of the ocean and into the beckoning twilight.

  Quietly Erin watched him. She knew that he, too, was hesitant to leave the solitude of the romantic haven that this otherwise miserable excuse for a cabin had provided for them. She lowered her body into the rope hammock, which sagged and groaned against her weight. The noise distracted Kane, and he slowly turned to face her. His eyes were distant; his mind was light-years away. Lazily he leaned against the post that supported the roof of the porch and let his eyes slide caressingly over her body.

  “I’m…ready to go,” she stated. It was a poor attempt at conversation.

  “Are you?” he drawled.

  “Everything’s packed. We really should get going.”

  “I know,” he agreed reluctantly, and looked longingly once more at the ceaseless gray tide. He spoke softly, as if to himself. “It surprises me that I’m not itching to get back to the office. Usually I’m anxious and just can’t wait to get back behind my desk. But tonight—I don’t know—it all seems so pointless.”

  When he faced her once again, his gray eyes moved over her face, as if he were memorizing every contour of her creamy skin. He made a simple statement with measured slowness. “I’m going to buy this cabin. We’ll come back together.”

  “I hope so,” she breathed, and wondered why it was so important to her. Unconsciously she clung to the first promise that hinted of a future that they might somehow share together.

  * * *

  The week that followed was a dismal and lonely time for Erin. As Kane had promised, he refused to keep their affair quiet or in the dark. Although he didn’t actually make an announcement of the fact, his cold indifference in the office had disappeared, and it was with difficulty that Erin had managed to keep up appearances during working hours. His eyes caressed her, and his affection was never hidden. Although inwardly Erin was pleased, she couldn’t help but notice the reaction of the other employees of the bank, the expressively uplifted eyebrows whenever she was with Kane and the accusatory glances that were cast her way when she wasn’t with him. She tried to ignore the gossip that was blazing through the bank, but she couldn’t calm the churning of her stomach.

  When Kane had to leave on Wednesday for California, Erin was slightly relieved that the pressure of keeping him at arm’s length at the office would be relieved for a while.

  It was on Friday morning when everything seemed to happen at once. Kane’s absence, as expected, had created a little extra work for Erin as well as the rest of the staff, but what she hadn’t anticipated was an outbreak of the flu, leaving the office very shorthanded. Nor had she expected that the bank’s main computer would break down, slowing the month-end posting to a snail’s pace. It was a hectic, frustrating day, and when the telephone rang for what seemed to be the twentieth time within the span of five minutes, Erin couldn’t keep the tight strain of anxiety out of her normally composed voice.

  “Miss O’Toole,” she nearly shouted into the mouthpiece.

  “Erin?” a familiar voice inquired.

  “Mitch? Is that you? I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks,” she exclaimed, and felt a pang of regret that she had answered the phone so harshly. “How are you?” she asked with genuine interest.

  “I’ve been better,” was the matter-of-fact reply.

  “Oh, Mitch. I’m so sorry,” she began, suddenly at a loss for words. What could she say to him? Any condolence sounded foolish.

  “I know, Erin,” he replied as if he really did understand that she still cared for him and considered him her friend.

  There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation, before Mitch cleared his throat indecisively and stated the reason for his call. “I was wondering if you would like to go to lunch
with me today?” he inquired.

  “Oh, Mitch, I’d love to, but I’m absolutely swamped,” Erin replied as she gazed at the stack of unanswered telephone messages that had been growing on the corner of her desk.

  “Too busy for lunch with an old friend?” he joked, but the humor fell flat.

  “Of course not. It’s just that…well, Kane is out of town, and everyone here is down with the flu—including the computer.”

  There was a harsh laugh on the other end of the line. “Yeah, well, I get the message” was the curt retort. “Some other time…”

  Indecision tore at Erin. She knew that today was the day of Mitch’s arraignment hearing, and she also knew that if the judgment was turned against him, it was unlikely that she would see him again for an indefinite period of time. Kane wouldn’t approve of a meeting with Mitch; Erin was sure of it, and yet he had no control over her friendship with Mitch. For once her reason was cast aside as she thought about the lonely man on the other end of the telephone line.

  “Oh, Mitch,” she said suddenly. “I’m sure I can meet with you today,” she choked out. “I’ll just have to make some room.”

  “Good!” Was there excessive relief in his voice? “How about Shorty’s at one-thirty?”

  “Perfect,” she agreed lamely, and felt herself something of a traitor.

  The few short hours until her agreed rendezvous with Mitch flew by, and with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, Erin set out on the short walk to a local pub known for its specialty: barbecued spareribs. Located in an older hotel in Pioneer Square, Shorty’s had become a favorite with some of the employees of the bank, as much for its earthy San Francisco atmosphere as its flavorful food. Erin had been to the restaurant bar with Mitch several times in the past, but today, under the shroud of the allegations against him and the twisted set of circumstances surrounding them, she felt apprehensive about the lunch. Don’t be silly, she chided herself. This is the same old Gay Nineties restaurant, and he’s the same old Mitch. Don’t let any of this talk of embezzlement go to your head. But still her stomach knotted, and without thinking, she pulled her pewter raincoat more closely around her throat and shook off a chill that ran up her spine.