The thought did nothing to lift her spirits, and she carried the tray up the stairs, rehearsing what she wanted to say to him. She hadn’t meant to imply that he should be working in the evenings. In fact, she would feel a great deal better if he didn’t.
Although he seemed fit enough now, she couldn’t dismiss the nagging doubt in her mind that something was very wrong with Granger Deene. He was entirely too tense, too preoccupied with whatever it was that troubled him. He needed to relax, and give himself a break at the end of the day.
Judging by his response earlier, he didn’t care for television. She would have to find out what he did like to do for relaxation. Perhaps he liked to read, he certainly seemed enthralled by the newspaper that morning.
Corie reached the landing and paused outside the door of the first bedroom. The smell of paint almost overpowered her. She must remember to ask him to leave the windows open at night to air out the place.
She was about to push the door open when she heard the sound of muttering from inside the room. At first she couldn’t distinguish the words, then she heard Granger Deene say quite clearly, “Good God above, it isn’t possible.”
Her pulse quickened as the knot in her stomach tightened. He had to be talking to himself. Perhaps if she listened, she would learn more about the man she’d been rash enough to invite into her house.
Leaning closer, she strained to hear him. The tray tapped gently against the wooden panel and she held her breath, afraid that he’d heard. Even so, she was totally unprepared when the door opened suddenly, almost toppling her off balance.
Granger stood in the doorway, his hair ruffled, his eyes wild with the heat of desperation. “What do you want?” he demanded harshly.
Corie almost dropped the coffee. Completely unnerved, she thrust the tray at him, slopping the hot liquid over the side of the cup. “I thought you might want this. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”
The light in his eyes faded as he continued to stare at her. After what seemed an eternity, he took the tray from her, looking down at the spilled coffee as if it were a wounded animal.
“You didn’t disturb me,” he said quietly. “It’s my place to apologize. I fell asleep. I was having a bad dream. I heard you at the door, and I wasn’t quite awake. Please forgive me for my rudeness.”
Corie shook her head so violently strands of hair fell across her eyes. She brushed them back, saying, “Oh, that’s okay, I have bad dreams myself sometimes.”
His gaze seemed to fasten on her face, holding her breathless. To her surprise he said softly, “You are too nice a lady to be living alone like this.”
“I...thank you, but...it’s better than...” She was floundering helplessly and didn’t know why. Pulling herself together, she said firmly, “I’m getting used to it. It has its advantages.”
“I’m sure it does.”
She couldn’t help wondering if he ever smiled as she struggled to meet that intent stare. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, and after a short pause she said awkwardly, “Well, good night then. I’ll let you go back to sleep.”
“Thank you, Corie. I’ll enjoy the coffee.”
She nodded, backing away until she reached the landing. He was still watching her as she hurried down the stairs.
Try as she might, she could not get the man out of her mind as she lay in bed that night. No matter how she twisted her body to get comfortable, that intense gray gaze and husky voice tormented her mind until she felt like screaming.
Corie knew nothing about him, except that he was born in Philadelphia and had apparently had some kind of accident. He was unusually reluctant to tell her anything else. She could only conclude that he had something to hide.
Not that it mattered to her, of course. As long as he hadn’t robbed a bank, or hurt someone.
She snapped her eyes open as the thought jolted her body. No, he didn’t seem the type. But then, neither had Ted Bundy. For God’s sake, the man could be a serial killer on the run.
Groaning, she sat up in bed and ruffled her fingers through her hair. She was letting her imagination run away with her. If he’d wanted to hurt her he could have easily done so before now. Besides, no matter how strange he seemed, something told her he wasn’t physically dangerous.
Staring into the dark shadows of her bedroom, she thought long and hard about that. Whatever was troubling him wasn’t directed at her, but at himself. Something traumatic had happened to him, and he was doing his best to deal with it. Something very personal, something he couldn’t discuss with a stranger.
She could understand that very well. She knew how it felt to be alone and lost and to have to deal with pain. She also knew how destructive it could be to keep it all inside. Perhaps if she could coax him into talking about it, she might be able to ease some of that pain.
It surprised her how much she wanted to help him, but he seemed like a nice man who’d had his share of bad luck.
Her glance fell on the clock and she sighed. Past midnight. She would look like a wreck in the morning if she didn’t get some sleep. Pummeling her pillow, she settled down and firmly closed her eyes.
* * *
Corie woke up some time later with an uneasy thump of her heart. For a moment she couldn’t think what had disturbed her sleep. Then she heard it. It sounded like a soft moaning, and it came from above her head. Granger’s room.
She lay there for a little while, trying to ignore the urge to go and find out what was wrong. He’d made it very clear he didn’t welcome her intrusion in his welfare.
Still, if he was sick, maybe he needed help. He’d recently had an accident; he could be in pain. Making up her mind, she slid out of bed.
Grabbing her robe, she stopped only long enough to pick up some painkillers from the bathroom cabinet, then hurried up the creaking stairs to Granger’s room. Outside his door, she paused. The moaning was louder, broken now and then by muttered words.
She tapped on the door, then waited to see if he would respond. Apparently he hadn’t heard her, since the painful sounds continued. She knocked louder, still without any reaction from inside the room. After a moment’s hesitation, Corie opened the door.
The light from the street lamp fell across the figure stretched out on the bed. Granger’s dark hair fell across his forehead as he tossed from side to side. One arm lay across his bare chest and the comforter was on the floor. The sheet seemed to be tangled in his legs, and had been drawn down around his hips.
Corie’s mouth felt dry as she stared down at him. He was obviously in the throes of a nightmare. And she didn’t need a magnifying glass to know that he was naked.
For a moment she let her gaze wander over his muscular body. How she wanted to run her hand over the smooth slope of his shoulder, trail her fingers across the springy dark hair on his chest, drawing them down to the tantalizing expanse of flat belly left bare by the sheet.
His face was turned toward her, his firm chin faintly shadowed, his eyelashes feathering above his strong cheekbones. His hard mouth muttered words she couldn’t understand, and she wondered what it would be like to silence him with her own lips.
Dismayed by her treacherous thoughts, she chased them from her mind. She was reluctant to go any closer to him. Instead she whispered urgently, “Granger, wake up.”
“Leave me alone,” Granger muttered. “I won’t go back to that place.”
Frowning, Corie edged closer. His eyes were still tightly shut, and his breathing was shallow, uneven. She reached out to the bedside lamp and snapped it on. Raising her voice, she tried again. “Granger, wake up. It’s me, Corie.”
He answered her with a groan, then said loudly, “Fall back!” His arm thrashed out, narrowly missing the headboard. Afraid that he would hurt himself, Corie took hold of his bare shoulder and gave it a firm shake.
She felt his muscles flex, and before she could snatch her hand away, his fingers imprisoned hers in an iron grip. Her heart leapt as she stared into his eyes. They seemed to
be glowing with that same weird silver color she’d noticed the first time she’d seen him.
He appeared to be looking at her, yet the blank expression on his face told her he could see nothing but the dream that still tormented his mind. “They are looking for me,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “They won’t take me back. I won’t let them.”
Shocked, Corie backed away from him, her hand still held fast, questions tumbling through her mind. Had she been wrong about him after all? Who was after him? He could have escaped from somewhere...a prison...or heaven help her, a mental home. If she could just get away from him she would call the police.
She twisted her wrist back and forth, but his fingers only tightened on her. Corie let out a yelp of pain. Granger stirred, his eyes gradually losing their odd glow. As she watched, his gaze slowly focused on her, and she realized that he was finally awake.
In the next instant he released his hold on her wrist and she stepped back, rubbing the bruised flesh with her fingers. She saw his gaze move over her body with a slow deliberation that burned her skin, making her painfully aware of her pink satin robe that barely skimmed her thighs.
She could feel her pulse rapidly beating when he looked her in the eye again and said quietly, “Forgive me. I was dreaming.”
Moistening her dry lips, Corie nodded. “Yes. I heard you from my room and thought you might be ill. I came up to see if I could help.”
“That was kind of you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her heart gradually slowed as he continued to look at her, his eyes filled with an anguish she couldn’t understand.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
She shook her head in denial, ignoring the ache his fierce grasp had caused.
After a long moment, he asked, “I was talking in my sleep?”
She swallowed, then nodded again. “I couldn’t hear what you said,” she lied. “The words were too jumbled.”
He seemed to notice that the sheet was down around his hips and reached for it, drawing it up to his chest. “I’m sorry I disturbed you, Corie. However, I’m not ill, so please go back to bed.”
She shook the bottle of pills that was still clutched in her hand. “I brought some painkillers, just in case you were in any pain.”
“I’m in no pain. But I appreciate the thought. Thank you.”
“Sure.” She backed toward the door. “Perhaps you can sleep better now.”
“Perhaps.”
Very carefully, she shut the door.
Granger watched the door close then let out his captured breath on an explosive sigh. Damn the woman. She was spying on him. He wondered what he’d said while fighting the visions that seemed determined to haunt him.
Whatever it was, he was sure it was incriminating. He didn’t believe for one minute that she hadn’t been able to understand him.
Granger pulled himself into a sitting position and buried his heated forehead in his hands. He didn’t know who his enemy was or where they would come from. He didn’t even know why they wanted him.
He couldn’t allow himself to trust Corie Trenton, yet every time she came near him she lit hot fires of passion in his belly that threatened to consume him.
Seeing her so close to him, her slender wrist imprisoned in his grasp, that scrap of silk molded to her enticing curves, he’d yearned to spread his fingers over her breasts and down her hips to her thighs.
He might not remember the touch of a woman’s skin beneath his hands, but there was nothing wrong with his imagination. And it almost drove him out of his mind.
He had to touch her. He had to find out if that golden skin felt as smooth and velvety as it looked. He wanted to bury his nose in her hair, and capture her mouth with his lips and tongue.
He wanted to smell her fragrance that taunted his senses, hear her sigh as he explored her flesh with his eager hands, and he wanted to immerse himself in the wild glory of her body—being to being, soul to soul.
A groan escaped from his lips, and he drew the sheet over his head to smother the sound. From now on he would have to be on his guard, not only against what he said when either awake or asleep, but also against the urgent demands of his body, which he couldn’t seem to control.
He cursed her again for the magnetism he couldn’t ignore, and for his own damnable weakness that made him forget even for one instant that she could very well be his undoing.
* * *
Corie lay awake in her bed, wondering what she should do. Her first instincts were to call the police. But on going through everything in her mind, her story sounded weak.
All she could base her fears on were words spoken during a dream. For all she knew, Granger could simply be dreaming someone was after him. Heaven knew she had dreamed the same thing herself at times. The police would simply laugh at her.
As for Granger’s odd behavior, that could be due to the accident which he said had left him disoriented. To call the police in now and provoke an investigation could very well embarrass them both.
It would be far better to make sure she wasn’t making a big mistake before she did anything rash. Feeling only small comfort with her decision, she finally fell into an uneasy sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, it was to hear rain spitting on her window, driven by the blustery wind that swept in from the ocean.
Granger said little during breakfast, seemingly preoccupied with his own thoughts. He looked a little tired, but otherwise healthy and rugged in the dark green sweatshirt and jeans she’d bought for him.
He appeared to enjoy the omelette she’d cooked for him, and in spite of her inner turmoil, she felt a warm sense of satisfaction when he pushed his plate away with a sigh.
“That was an excellent breakfast. Will you be cooking for your paying guests when you open the hotel?”
She laid her fork down and reached for her coffee. “Not at first. I’ll be offering just the rooms until I’m established enough to quit my job and do this full-time.”
“I am quite sure your guests will have no complaints as far as the food is concerned.”
“Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind when I have to cook my first breakfasts. My customers may not all be as easy to please as you are.”
He watched her while she took a sip of her coffee. “You must not be happy with your work to want to give it up.”
Corie shrugged. “I’m happy enough with it. It can be fascinating, though a lot of times I have to admit it’s pretty dry stuff.”
“What is it exactly that you do?”
Corie thought about that before answering. “I guess you can say I do all the dreary stuff while the scientists have all the fun. I figure out the angle of the stars and the planets at a given time, in comparison to the earth’s axis. I chart weather patterns, atmospheric conditions, any unusual activities, such as meteors, space debris from satellites, that kind of thing....”
Her voice trailed off as she noticed Granger’s expression. He was looking at her as if she’d just arrived from outer space herself. Trying to think over the conversation, she wondered what she’d said to put that look of astonishment on his face.
After a moment Granger said in a strained voice, “I have never met a woman who could even speak of such things, let alone know the meaning. What is space debris, for instance?”
Now it was Corie’s turn to look astonished. “You know, the stuff that falls off satellites when they wear out, or maybe collide with something up there.”
“Up there?”
“Outer space. With all that stuff floating around up there, it’s a wonder we don’t have more of it falling to earth.”
She peered closer at him, concerned by his stunned expression. “Are you feeling all right? You’re not going to pass out again, are you?”
“No,” Granger said carefully. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, good, you had me worried there for a moment.” Corie took another sip of coffee and swallowed it. “Anyway, as I said, it can be fascinating
at times. It’s just that I’m always at someone else’s beck and call. I want to be my own boss, and call my own shots. I want to make it on my own decisions, not somebody else’s.”
Appearing to recover from his momentary bout, Granger said quietly, “An independent lady. That’s...very refreshing.”
“Not really. More and more women are working for themselves these days. A sign of the times, I guess.”
“And their men are not threatened by that?”
Corie looked at him in surprise. “I’m sure a lot of them are, but you’d never hear them admit it. In any case, many women don’t have men to support them.”
He appeared to think about that, but made no further comment.
She got up from the table, glancing at the clock on the stove. “Would you like some more coffee before we get to work?”
Taking the hint, Granger rose to his feet. “No, thank you. I want to finish the painting in that one room before—”
He broke off as the harsh ringing of the telephone interrupted his words. He looked startled, and swung around as if trying to pinpoint the source of the noise.
“Excuse me,” Corie said, “I’d better get that.” Again she felt that flutter of apprehension, wondering just why Granger Deene seemed so startled by the ringing of the telephone.
The caller was a market researcher, conducting a survey on breakfast cereals. Corie answered the questions in a distracted way that must have seemed vague to the woman on the end of the line.
All the time she talked, Corie couldn’t help wondering if Granger was worried that she would tell someone he was there.
One way or another, she had to find out more about her new handyman, and the sooner the better. If someone was looking for him she would just as soon not have them find him in her house.
The survey finally came to an end, and Corie put the phone down with a sigh of relief. “I wonder why they always call on weekends,” she said, crossing back to the table. “I suppose because they know they can catch people like me who’ll stand there answering their dumb questions.”
She began gathering up the dishes, and after a moment, Granger moved over to the door. “I think I’ll finish my painting now, if you’ll excuse me?”
So Little Time Page 5