Dawson didn’t answer his cell; no doubt he was still at lunch with the city planner of Trentville, a small town west of Boston that was looking to hire TEC for an infrastructure contract. Jack laid out the problem for Dawson in a voice-mail message; might as well give him enough information to get started on a solution.
While Jack waited for a return call, he brought up the design specs he’d planned to review this morning. After a quick read-through, his attention drifted to Mia, still curled up in the recliner. He forced his focus back to his computer, starting in on the e-mail that had accumulated during the short time he’d been gone this morning. But again his mind drifted, his awareness straying out his office door, to the slender woman in his great room.
Where the hell was Dawson? Ordinarily his friend would have checked in by now. Had Jack’s voice mail gone astray? Should he call again?
Mia rose from the recliner, crossing to the pellet stove to lower the fuel feed. As he watched, she shoved her sleeves up. Lifting the hem of the sweatshirt, she flapped it away from her body to cool herself. Just the thought of how warm Mia’s skin must be sent Jack’s temperature rising.
She must have sensed his stare. She turned slowly, looking over her shoulder. Her lips parted and she wet them, the tip of her tongue darting briefly into view. Jack stifled a groan, setting his teeth against the heat that had settled low in his body.
The trill of the phone jolted him, sent him fumbling for the receiver. He snapped out, “Traynor,” all his agitation released in the two syllables.
The pause before Dawson spoke told Jack he’d caught his friend off guard. “I wouldn’t have expected the prospect of being cut off from the world by a mudslide would have set you on edge like this.”
“Just came at a damned inconvenient time.”
“I thought you just did your supply run yesterday.”
Jack always let Dawson know when he left the house since his landline was far more reliable than the cell. Sometimes TEC’s consulting business necessitated a 24/7 schedule and Dawson had to know where Jack could be contacted.
Jack didn’t want to deal with the explanations Mia’s presence would require. “I forgot something in town. Do you have a crew lined up to clear the slide?”
“That’s what took me so long to get back to you.”
Mia had disappeared from view. Jack was on his feet before he realized it, carrying the phone to the doorway to look for her. “How long will it take them?”
“I couldn’t find anyone to do the work.”
“With all the excavation companies in the county?” He couldn’t hear her in the kitchen. Had she gone into the bathroom? “How busy could they be in the dead of winter?”
“I take it you haven’t seen the news today. There was a massive slide on Highway 50—tons of rock let loose. Access between Sacramento and Carson City, Nevada, is blocked. Anyone with an earthmover, backhoe or dump truck will be tied up for the foreseeable future.”
Mia returned from the hallway leading to the bathroom, Elizabeth’s sweatshirt exchanged for the red Christmas sweater. The knit hugged Mia’s slender curves, and the sight of her momentarily waylaid Jack’s concentration. Then the significance of what Dawson had said sank in.
“You can’t get anyone to clear my road?” He barked out the question.
“Not until they’ve got Highway 50 open. A main thoroughfare has a bit higher priority than your access road.”
Mia approached, her expression wary. Jack angled away from her, lowered his voice. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“What did you forget in town that’s so damned important?” Dawson asked.
“Nothing. I mean, it’s not that important. Just…awkward.”
Now Mia stood in the doorway, a tantalizing dream in red sweater and snugly fitting jeans. Jack gestured her inside and she settled in a spare office chair. She gazed out the window at the side yard.
Jack turned his back to her. “Any idea how long before a crew can be reassigned?”
“The state’s talking three weeks,” Dawson said, and Jack’s heart sank. “But they’ve hired that company that’s known for rush jobs to supervise. Offered a bonus for every day under twenty-one days they complete it early.”
Three weeks? Jack would be a madman long before that having to face the temptation of Mia daily. Not to mention the impact of her presence during the run up to the anniversary.
“Keep working on it. Pull a crew from out of state if you need to.”
“Not to distract you with the trivial,” Dawson said dryly,
“but the Trentville deal is looking good.”
With an effort Jack switched gears as Dawson updated him on the morning’s negotiations. Arranging for members of the Trentville planning commission to meet with Dawson in Boston so close to Christmas had been a major coup on his part. Several of them were heading off on vacations immediately after the meeting and would be tied up for some time after they returned. Jack felt a twinge of guilt that he’d let Mia’s presence derail him so much he’d nearly forgotten his COO’s mission.
Jack was grateful Dawson would be sending a detailed report in writing. With Mia only a few feet away, Jack didn’t comprehend half of what Dawson said.
He set down the phone and turned his chair toward her. “There’s a problem.” He laid out what Dawson had told him. Mia’s eyes grew wide.
“Three weeks? I can’t be gone that long.” The certainty in her declaration surprised him.
“Why not?”
“Because…” Her brow furrowed. “I’m supposed to be back before…”
“Before what?” Jack prodded, hoping to fan the spark of memory into flames.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands tightening into fists as if to grab hold of the mystery of her past. Then she let loose a gust of air, frustration clear in every line of her body.
“I don’t know!” With lithe grace she jumped to her feet.
“But don’t you think someone must be expecting me somewhere? That someone will notice me missing?”
“I can call Dawson back, have him arrange for a few discreet inquiries—”
“No! You can’t tell anyone—” She broke off, no doubt seeing the same paradox as he. She didn’t want to stay with him, but she didn’t want to go.
At the moment she had no choice. There was no getting around that rockslide.
She sank back into the chair, looking as fragile as she had yesterday after he’d pulled her from the creek. “I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense.”
If it had been Elizabeth standing there, as needy, as overwhelmed by emotion, he’d have pulled her into his arms to soothe her. But this wasn’t his late wife. And as vulnerable as Mia was, it wasn’t his responsibility to be her protector. Yes, he’d keep her safe in his home until he could get her to the authorities. But beyond that, he’d have to keep firm limits in place, now that her one-night stay had extended into two to three weeks.
He couldn’t let himself forget what had happened with Joanna Sanchez. The memory of that episode still burned in his gut. He’d been so sure Joanna was a second chance for him after Elizabeth’s death. Except everything out of Joanna’s mouth had been lies, from the false name she gave him when they first met to her seemingly heartfelt avowal of love.
Mia might be genuine, but he’d still be an idiot to let himself become involved with her as he had with Joanna. He didn’t need that kind of baggage.
Her hands laced tightly in her lap. “You’re a complete stranger. I don’t like being trapped here with you.”
“You’re safe with me, Mia. I won’t hurt you. I won’t even touch you.” Even as he said the words he wondered if he’d be able to keep that promise. “Let me at least call the sheriff’s department, tell them what we know about you. Maybe they’ll come up with something.”
She nodded, in that moment looking so forlorn. He remembered feeling that way after Elizabeth. It would be so easy to move his chair closer to Mia’s, to take her hand, pull
her close. What would it hurt to comfort her?
Except it might not stop at comfort and he damn well knew it. He cursed his weakness. “It’s only three weeks. I think you can survive that long.”
He regretted his harsh tone the moment he said the words, even more so when she fixed him with those wounded gray eyes. Their sheen told him she barely held back tears. “I’ll be sure to stay out of your way,” she said, rising and hurrying from his office. A few moments later he heard the slamming of the guest-room door.
With an angry thrust of his legs, he pushed out of his chair, shoving it back against his desk. His stomach twisted with guilt.
He wasn’t running a bed-and-breakfast. He didn’t owe her anything but a little food and a roof over her head. She didn’t mean a damn thing to him.
So why did he feel like such a bastard?
Chapter Five
Mia prowled the small space of the guest room, tears spilling from her eyes. She’d swipe them away only to have more wet her cheeks, emotions tumbling inside her like the granite and mud that had plummeted down the mountainside.
She flung herself on the bed, tried to force herself to sit still as she struggled to grab hold of a coherent thought. But the rockslide of emotions pushed her to her feet again, rioting in a dozen directions at once.
She was exploding from within with an energy she didn’t even understand. She wanted desperately to get home, although she didn’t remember what or where home was. Being alone with Jack terrified her, yet at the same time her imprisonment here in his isolated home gave her a sense of safety. More than anything, that feeling of security with a complete stranger agitated her, confused her.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, covering her face with her hands as she strove again to quiet her thoughts. Jack might be a stranger, but with her world out of control, he was her only thread of familiarity. Despite knowing him only a few hours, he was more concrete than any of the amorphous shadows locked away in her mind. He was a link to reality for her.
But was he more than that? If she’d been captive here with a different man, would she still feel the driving need to feel his arms around her? Would she want so badly to hold him as a shield against the enormous unknown inside her?
It isn’t the man, it’s the situation. She was frightened, and Jack was her only source of human contact.
And what about the sizzling attraction that zinged between them whenever he got close to her? What about the heat she felt inside when he brushed against her, the warmth that pooled low in her body when she thought of him? He might be a near-total stranger, but she couldn’t deny the physical pull.
She was a young, healthy woman; he was a good-looking man. It made sense her body would respond to him. She didn’t have to know anything about her former life to understand that basic biology.
She just wouldn’t act on her body’s urges.
At least Jack seemed honorable, had said he wouldn’t touch her, harm her. Still, deep inside her, a voice told her to be suspicious of even her own judgment with him. That what she thought she knew couldn’t be trusted.
Too many questions, not nearly enough answers. Frustration drove her from the bed and across the hall to the bathroom. As she splashed water on her face, she longed to wash away the doubt and confusion as easily as she did the tears and grime.
Dabbing herself dry with a hand towel, she leaned on the vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. Her features seemed more familiar now, but only because she’d had time to study them since yesterday. Regarding herself in the mirror was like looking at someone she’d met recently. The gaze meeting hers still didn’t seem like one she’d lived with for twenty-something years.
God, she wished she could find something—the color of her eyes, the shape of her nose—that would flick the switch into self-recognition. She knew Jack’s face better than her own, had seen it first, the moment she’d been reborn into this frightening, baffling new world.
When she padded down the hall to the great room, she was relieved to see Jack had pulled shut his office door. But once she stood in front of the fire, pressed the buttons to lower the intensity of the flames again, she was at a loss. What did she do now?
Her gaze fell on the magazines scattered on the sofa, left there by Jack. Among the collection of reading material with esoteric, engineering-related titles she spotted two general science magazines. She plucked one of them from the slick offerings.
Her heart rate kicked higher. She turned to the table of contents, scanned it. Several articles tickled a memory. She flipped through, past photographs, charts and sidebars. She’d seen the magazine before, had read this article, had skimmed that one, she was sure of it.
The magazine clutched in her hand, she rounded the sofa and ran toward Jack’s office. “Jack!”
When his door swung open, she couldn’t quite stop her headlong rush. She came up against him in the doorway, palms on his chest, her body pressed against his. The magazine clattered to the floor.
She couldn’t tear her eyes from his. Her heart, already beating too fast, pounded harder. As if their physical contact had strung their hearts together, the syncopation of their cadences matched. Her breathing sang alongside his, the same sensual song.
His hands had capped her shoulders, and she could feel the tension in his arms. Was he trying to pull her closer? Or push her farther away? Which did she want? Her thought processes had slowed, her primitive brain taking over, urging her to forget thinking, to act on the sensations strumming through her.
She tipped her head back, asking for…what? Her conscious self would know and would likely object, but she’d stopped listening to that part of herself. When he lowered his head, she strained up toward him, her fingers curling into his sweater, pressing against the ridge of his collarbone. Her eyes drifted shut and her body seemed to open like a flower to him.
The first stroke of his mouth against hers, and her knees went weak. She gripped him tighter, then slid her hands up around his neck for a more secure grip. The heat of his mouth burned her, tripled the pounding of her already racing heart.
When he leaned back from her, breaking the contact, she rose on the balls of her feet to keep him close. It wasn’t until the tension in his arms increased that she realized he was pushing her away. The separation first felt like cold water rushing between them, then a new heat settled on her—mortification.
“I’m sorry,” she said, stumbling back from him. As hot as her cheeks were, they must be blazing with color. She wished she could shrink into the floor, disappear. “That was—I shouldn’t have—I don’t know what—”
He stared at her, his dark eyes as deep as a starless night and just as enigmatic. She didn’t know how to interpret the tautness of his jaw, the way his cheekbones stood out in sharp relief. Was he angry with the way she’d thrown herself at him? She couldn’t blame him.
“Was there something you wanted?” he asked, his neutral tone convincing her the heat she’d felt had been one way only. Maybe the kiss had just been an act of curiosity on his part.
It took her a moment to recall why she’d come running to his office. “I remembered something.”
Her excitement seemed so foolish now. Turning away from his steady gaze, she picked up the science magazine. With shaking hands she held it out to him. “I’ve read this before.”
He glanced down at the magazine. “Anything else?”
“No. I just…I flipped through it and it was all familiar to me.”
“Nothing that helps identify you?”
She recognized her folly then. What good did it do to remember the magazine when it got her no closer to understanding who she was? She shouldn’t have gone running to him without something more concrete.
“I’m sorry. It was stupid. It was all stupid.” She backed away, crumpling the magazine.
His hand on her shoulder stopped her escape. “None of this was your fault.”
She forced herself to look up at him. “You’re working. I
shouldn’t have bothered you with something so trivial.”
“Not trivial. Whatever you can recall is good.”
She shrugged, all too aware of how his hand shifted with her movement. His gaze seemed to darken, impenetrable and mysterious again.
Would he say something about their kiss? Chastise her for coming on to him?
He took a step back, shoved hands into his pockets. “Anything else? I have to get back to work.”
“I’m going a little stir-crazy. Do you have any books? Something to keep myself busy?”
He pushed his hair back behind his ear, impatience in the gesture. “There’s a box in the garage. I’ll bring them out for you.”
She returned to the sofa and tidied up the magazines to give herself something to do. Jack came back a few minutes later with a good-size cardboard box, “Keepers” inscribed on one side in a feminine hand. He set the box down on the coffee table then headed back to his office without a word.
Elizabeth’s, Mia guessed as she opened the flaps. The contents of the box confirmed that assumption—the majority of the books were romances, with a number of mysteries and a few biographies mixed in. Mia had no idea what kind of reading material she herself liked other than science magazines. Science fiction maybe? That genre was missing from Elizabeth’s collection, but Mia was willing to try anything to keep herself occupied.
She soon found herself absorbed in a romantic suspense, only coming up for air to get herself a glass of water, then a late lunch as the day wore on. She considered asking Jack if she could make him a sandwich when she made her own, but was worried that her crazy libido might take over again. She’d suffered enough embarrassment for one day.
After lunch she got sleepy reading in front of the fire and dozed off with the book in her lap. When she woke an hour or so later, the afghan throw had been spread across her legs.
She shoved aside the throw, and when she couldn’t focus back on the novel she’d been reading, picked up a weeks-old section of the Sacramento Bee from a stack beside the sofa. Jack had started the crossword puzzle, still had the pen clipped to the paper. She started filling in the answers she knew, but her mind drifted and she found herself doodling in the margins. She drew eyes, fixed and staring, not Jack’s enigmatic ones, but those of a stranger.
Her Miracle Man Page 5