by Rebecca York
“Yes.”
“But I want to be alone with you first.” Swinging Jenny into his arms, he carried her away from the towering walls of stone to a little stand of trees, where he set her down. But it was impossible to turn her loose. He would never turn her loose.
“Are you all right?” he asked gruffly. “He didn’t…do anything…”
“I’m fine.” She nestled against him, breathing deeply and evenly, and he sensed she was striving for calm. “I have to tell you…there were two of them,” she said.
“What?”
“Two different men. The one you call Jesse James—that was the one who called himself Kane—killed Marianne. Someone else was after her computer. Jesse said his name was Jack Colmars. When Randolph took her computer back, he switched his attentions to mine—and to me. But they’re not the same person.”
“How do you know?” he asked quickly. Did he still have to worry about her safety?
She must have felt him stiffen and realized what he was thinking. “It’s all right. They’re both dead.”
“Are you sure? What happened?”
“Colmars was in the woods, watching the house. He was the one who threw me off the bridge. He grabbed me and started dragging me away. Jesse shot him—while he was carrying me.” She gulped. “Jesse said he was phoning for a crime-scene team. And I asked him to call you. I’m sure he didn’t do either.”
Ben swore. “The bastard could have shot you. I should never have left you with him.”
She reached to press her fingers against his mouth, to stroke her lips. At the gentle touch, he kissed her fingertips.
“No, Ben. Don’t blame yourself,” she said softly. “It wasn’t your fault. I sent you away. And I didn’t start to figure out who he was until he repeated something strange he’d said on World Connect. Then I got in the car and found the shirt and put it all together.”
“I should—”
She pressed his lips more firmly with her fingers. “Don’t. You were upset. We were both upset. Don’t second-guess. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
He swallowed hard, trying to grasp what she was saying.
“I know you thought I wasn’t listening when you were talking about Craig and the accident. But I heard you. You convinced me to let the past go, not to let it poison our future. Now you have to do the same thing.”
“But I—”
She took him firmly by the shoulders and raised her head so that she seemed to be staring into his eyes—into his soul. “It’s over. Finished. Don’t beat up on yourself because a clever actor fooled both of us.”
“You tricked him into leaving,” he breathed. “Then you drove away.”
She laughed. “Yes. But I didn’t get too far.”
“God, you’re amazing.”
“Don’t change the subject,” she said with mock seriousness. “We were talking about you. Promise me that you’ll never blame yourself for any of this. You’re only human, and you couldn’t have pegged him without more information.”
“He had on the wrong shoes,” he protested. “I—”
Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Drop it—and we’re even.”
As he gazed down at her, he gave in. She was right. It would only make him crazy to keep thinking about what might have happened. She was safe. That was the important thing. “All right.”
She sighed deeply and relaxed against him.
“I’m smiling, in case you can’t tell,” he whispered.
“Same here.”
She folded him into her embrace and kissed him. He was thinking about dragging her farther into the woods when he heard a police siren in the distance. “Damn. Company.”
“They’ll leave eventually,” she murmured.
“We’d better get back to the house. The trouble is, I’ve dropped my flashlight, and the moon has gone behind a cloud again, so I’ll be stumbling around in the dark.”
“Looks like I’ll have to lead you back. If you’ll cut me a stick to use.”
He pulled out his pen knife and sliced off one of the small branches overhead. After stripping away the leaves, he handed it to her. “Lead the way.”
She took his arm in one hand and the stick in the other swinging it in front of her. “I guess you never know when a blind lady will come in handy.”
His throat tightened. “You’re wrong. I know. I definitely know.”
And there’s more 43 LIGHT STREET!
Turn the page for a bonus look at what’s in store for you in the next 43 Light Street book by Rebecca York, coming to you in October 1997.
FATHER AND CHILD
Zeke Chambers’s life was ordered, structured and sensible—until he discovered he had a child he never knew about. A child whose very life depended on him and the woman who’d pretend to be his wife.
Don’t miss #437 FATHER AND CHILD, only from Rebecca York…and Harlequin Intrigue!
Chapter One
“Will you marry me?”
It had to be a trick of the wind howling through the trees outside. She couldn’t possibly have heard correctly. Elizabeth Egan’s blue eyes widened as she stared at the man seated across the table. “Pardon me?”
“I said,” he repeated, “will you marry me?”
A burst of rain pelted the floor-to-ceiling window, and a bolt of lightning struck so close to the house that the instant rumble of thunder rattled the silverware on the rosewood table.
But she barely registered the storm. Her attention was focused on Zeke Chambers. His powerful shoulders were as tense as a tree limb about to snap. Under his deep tan, his skin was pale. One large hand was clenched so tightly around the stem of his water goblet that she thought it might shatter.
She blinked a couple of times, then met his gaze, searching. When he’d called her earlier, he’d said he was in trouble but couldn’t talk about it over the phone. She’d heard the near panic in his voice, and something inside her had melted.
Softly she whispered his name. “Zeke?”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m not doing this very well.”
Nothing new about that. Verbal communication was definitely not his strong suit
Elizabeth had met him a couple of years ago at a party, and it had seemed that the instant attraction was mutual. He was a hunk, dark-haired, tall and ruggedly handsome. And she’d seen something in his gray eyes—a fiery spark that hinted at excitement and passion, even danger—that stirred her blood and made her heart race. But he kept those inclinations well hidden, and over the course of time, she’d come to know a man who was soft-spoken, charming and rather shy in an endearing sort of way.
He was also clearly terrified of getting close. Every time she’d thought he was about to lower his defenses, he’d backed off. And finally, before they became intimate, she’d backed off, too, disappointed and only half-convinced that it was best to quit while she was ahead. She hadn’t thought he’d call again. But very quickly they’d fallen into a friendship that seemed to make Zeke more comfortable. Sometimes she didn’t see him for months at a time. Then he’d come back, and her heart would leap. While their relationship left her frustrated, she’d tried to tamp down the arousal she invariably felt when she was around him, telling herself that what he needed was a friend. Lord knew what she needed. She should have gotten serious with somebody else, yet other men always suffered in comparison to Zeke.
“Let me get this straight,” she said. “You’re asking me to marry you?”
He nodded.
Elizabeth looked at him, baffled.
His eyes held the same combination of panic and turmoil she’d heard in his voice that afternoon when he’d called. Worried but strangely elated that he’d reached out to her, she’d left the office early and come straight to his starkly modern stone-and-glass house—where she’d been astonished to find the table in his elegant dining room set with china and silver and starched linen as if his request for her presence had been nothing more than a simple dinner invitation. “I’ve got to have
a wife by tomorrow night,” he said, his voice strangled. “I didn’t know who else to ask.”
The world tipped so sharply, she felt as if she were going to fall off her chair. But she refused to let her turmoil show. Sitting up straighter, she tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “That isn’t exactly a declaration of undying love.”
He looked confused. “But you don’t want a declaration of love.”
Don’t I? she almost shouted, stunned by her own reaction and the sudden knowledge of how badly he could hurt her.
He shook his head a little. “I thought you’d be the perfect choice. You won’t get emotionally involved. And when it’s over, we can each go our separate ways and there won’t be any problem.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“It wouldn’t be for very long,” he hurried to add.
She was trying to frame a reply when another bolt of lightning shook the house. The lights flickered and went out, pitching the room into inky darkness.
Zeke swore, and she heard his chair scrape on the slate floor as he rose. A second later he was at her side, gently but urgently pulling her to her feet. His hands were strong, sure as he drew her to his side. “I think we’d better get away from the windows, just in case.” he said.
She might have argued, but another blast reverberated, rattling the giant panes.
The room was absolutely dark, and Zeke was the only point of reference as he led her toward the interior of the house. She wanted to pull away, wanted to put as much distance as she could between the two of them, but the blackness and the strong grip of his hand on her arm gave her no alternative.
He opened a door, led her through, and she judged they were in the hall. More thunder rumbled, and she trembled. Not because of the storm, though.
“Elizabeth, you have to marry me,” he whispered.
Outrage bubbled inside her, but she tamped it down, gritting her teeth as she muttered, “I don’t have to do anything.”
When he turned her toward him, she tried to resist, but he anchored her against his body.
“I thought…I thought we were friends,” he said.
She heard the strain in his voice, realized on some level that he didn’t have a clue how tactless, how hurtful he was being. Still, she couldn’t help the defensiveness that colored her tone as she spoke.
“That’s not exactly enough for marriage.”
She felt, more than heard him sigh. “I guess it isn’t, is it? I’m sorry. I’m not thinking straight. But I do need you. I need you because—”
“You don’t need anyone,” she shot back, unable to control her wounded feelings. Taking advantage of the cloak of darkness, she gave voice to thoughts she’d kept hidden for some time because she’d been afraid she’d drive him away. “Zeke, you never let anyone get close to you. Oh, you’re charming, and friendly, and you’re very good at making everyone around you feel completely comfortable. But I think you have secrets—things you don’t want anyone to find out—so you keep people at arm’s length.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m that transparent?”
“I don’t know. Probably not to everyone. I guess I got close enough to you to figure out that much,” she added in a whisper.
He muttered an oath.
She had nothing left to lose, so she continued. “Zeke, I realize you haven’t had much practice being straight with people…. But, well, you can’t ask a woman to marry you and in the next breath tell her that you don’t love her.”
She heard him swallow. “I’m sorry. You’re right, but things have happened—”
“What things?”
He drew a ragged breath. “I’m—I’m trying to save a life.”
Stunned, she lifted her face toward him, wishing she could read his expression, but she couldn’t penetrate the blackness surrounding them. Still, she felt the urgency in the hands that gripped her shoulders, and she heard the desperation in his voice as he continued in a rush.
“I just found out about her,” he said. “She’s only five years old. Honest to God, if you won’t help me, I don’t know what—” He broke off, his hands tightening their grip. “Please, Elizabeth. Please, help me save my little girl.”
* * * * *
Don’t miss this next 43 Light Street tale— #437 FATHER AND CHILD—coming to you in October 1997. Only from Rebecca York and Harlequin Intrigue!
eISBN 978-14592-6832-6
FOR YOUR EYES ONLY
Copyright © 1997 by Ruth Glick and Eileen Buckholtz
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utillzation of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly Inspired by any Individual known or unknown to the author, and all Incidents are pure Invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Printed in U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Praise
Dear Reader
Title Page
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Preview
Copyright