by Mae Clair
“I’ll try not to be long.” His voice was tight, bordering on hostile, but he couldn’t control the anger. Did she care anything for him at all?
“Caith.”
He halted at the door, frowning over his shoulder.
“Be careful.” She said it almost as if she cared.
* * * *
The door clicked shut, allowing Veronica to release her mental walls. With a sigh, she collapsed on the couch. Why did every moment with Caith end in confusion?
Every time he drew near, her resolve wavered. The bitterness she’d once harbored grew less with each hour they spent together. She’d wanted him to touch her, to take her back to the place only he could unleash. To make her feel the way she had when he’d coaxed passion from an inexperienced girl for the first time. She wanted his arms around her, strong and demanding, until his roughness and her silk melted into something that was a blending of both.
It was too much, and she was too tired. By the time he returned two hours later, she’d fallen asleep on the sofa. The closing clack of the door woke her with a start, jolting her from a restless sleep. The room was mostly dark, illuminated only by a low-wattage lamp in the corner and a faint glimmer of moonlight bleeding through the curtains.
Veronica switched on a light, wincing as the brightness stung her eyes. “What time is it?” she asked, spotting Caith.
He dropped into a chair across from her. Like her, he was clearly tired, but his eyes were vibrant blue, intensely aware. Analytical by nature, he was likely in overdrive, determined to find a logical explanation for the night’s otherworldly events.
“After two. Sorry to keep you so late.” He scuffed a hand through his hair. “How’s Derry?”
“He’s been sleeping since you left.” Veronica swung her legs from the sofa, arranging the folds of her robe for modesty.
Caith noted the action with a tightening of his mouth. “Who has keys to the lodge, Veronica?”
Startled, she sat straighter. “Why?”
“Because the storm cellar doors were unlocked. Again. Whoever’s pulling these stunts is probably coming in through the basement. Kind of coincidental Lew hasn’t fixed the breaker, don’t you think?”
For a moment Veronica couldn’t speak. Her throat closed up as the insinuation washed over her. “You don’t actually think Lew has anything to do with—”
“I told you before everyone’s a suspect. Now, who has keys to the lodge?”
Anger spiked through her, putting her on the defensive. “Myself, Lew, Alma, your mother, brothers, and father.” Standing, she tugged the robe close about her throat. “It’s late. I’m going back to my apartment.”
“Wait.” He stopped her at the door.
The heat of his hand where it gripped her arm felt like the most seductive sensation on earth. As irritated as she was, she couldn’t deny her attraction for him. Even angry, she was drawn by the flare of magnetism between them, every glance, every touch, sizzling with suppressed desire. She felt herself falling into his eyes, an untamed place that had trapped countless women before her, but vowed she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. “Let go of my arm.”
“The night you found the hand in the fireplace,” he said, ignoring her. “Who was the last person in the lobby before you got there?”
Her back stiffened as she realized where he was headed. “Lew. He checked the fire before retiring.” Inborn stubbornness kicked in. “You’re wasting your time, Caith. Sheriff Cameron’s already talked to Lew and cleared him. Now let go of my arm.”
He tightened his grip as if testing the balance of power.
It was strength against will, male pride against female indignation. If she pressed the issue, he’d release her. He’d never hurt her, never force her. Twelve years couldn’t change the gentleness of spirit she’d fallen in love with as a child. Suddenly, the confrontation was no longer about the lodge or the insinuations against Lew. It was about past and present, the lies and secrets they’d buried for twelve years.
“Do you believe what you said earlier?” There was an edge to his voice, cold and brittle as winter. “Do you think my feelings have always been about sex?”
Startled by his abrupt change of topic, Veronica blinked. She remembered the girls’ locker room in high school, and how Kelly Rice and Toni Charleston had swapped stories about how good Caith was in bed. What he liked to do and how much they enjoyed it.
“Everyone knew that about you, Caith. Even your parents. Your father looked the other way, and your mother pretended not to hear the gossip. They accepted it as your way of coping. I was stupid enough to believe you meant it when you made love to me that night on the bank. Stupid and naive.”
His grip loosened.
“Did you love Derry’s mother, or was she about sex, too?”
Fury flashed in his eyes. It died quickly, replaced by rigid acceptance. As if stung, he released her.
“We met in college.” Caith moved away from the door. “We had a good relationship, but we weren’t in love. Not the way two people are supposed to be. So, yeah, I guess it was about sex, but she didn’t mind.” He shot Veronica an accusing glance. “We were careful, but somehow she got pregnant. She didn’t want a husband or kids. I wanted my son.” He stepped nearer, raw conviction in his eyes. No matter how else he’d failed, she understood he wouldn’t allow himself to fail as a father.
“We agreed Derry would be my responsibility. Eight months after he was born, she died in a car accident.”
Veronica didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry didn’t seem appropriate. Her anger drained along with the hostile thoughts she’d harbored. Before she could respond, he tugged open the door.
“It’s late as hell, and I’m tired. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The dismissal stung. Tired of playing by his rules, she pushed past him. “I don’t think so. I have a date with Merlin.”
* * * *
Veronica tried to concentrate on her French toast and coffee but lacked the appetite. Merlin said something about the hayride Aren had planned for tomorrow, but the words faded into background noise along with the din of the restaurant. Last night, after telling Caith she was meeting his brother in the morning, she’d had to scramble to arrange the date. Thankfully, Merlin had been agreeable when she called and suggested an early breakfast.
The restaurant off Main Street was crowded and noisy, filled with people stopping for a cup of coffee or a quick meal before beginning the workday. Outside the sky was overcast, threatening rain, fueled by a mass of soot-black clouds. A strong wind scattered leaves over the street, sending them swirling between cars and dancing against the restaurant’s circle-top windows. The front door opened admitting three BI employees and a blast of cold air. It gusted between the tables, but Veronica barely felt it.
Her gaze strayed across the street where the office for the Coldcreek Herald was sandwiched between a bakery and a dry cleaning establishment. Recalling Caith’s vow to confront Kelly Rice, she expected him to arrive any moment, his mood as black as the gathering storm. Her focus strayed to her watch. By now he would have dropped Derry at school and worked up a healthy anger in anticipation of tangling with his high school flame.
“Ron?” Merlin watched her expectantly. “Have you heard anything I’ve said?”
She flushed guiltily. “I’m sorry.” Retrieving her coffee, she sipped the tepid liquid. “Daydreaming, I guess.”
She was miserable. Miserable because she couldn’t keep her mind off Caith. Miserable because she used Merlin to make his brother jealous, and miserable because she didn’t feel the slightest spark of attraction with Merlin. Caith had been right. Merlin was safe and familiar, a good friend, but not the man she wanted for a lover.
Unaware of her thoughts, Merlin poked his egg-white omelet with a fork. “Aren says my father called a meeting for two o’clock to discuss the lodge. I hear you’ll be there.”
She nodded. “So will Caith.
” She wasn’t certain why she made the observation. Maybe because Caith was in her thoughts. Sensing a blunder, she glanced at Merlin, but he only grinned.
“My father and Caith. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
The wicked delight in his voice made Veronica frown. She had a nasty image of him as Pan, dancing on a hickory stump. “The meeting isn’t about confrontation, Merlin. It’s about correcting the problems at Stone Willow.”
He snorted. “Don’t be naive. My dad wants to teach Galen and Aren a lesson, and he wants an audience when he does it. My guess is he’s going to fire Caith.”
“Fire Caith?” Veronica’s voice cut out. She hadn’t considered the possibility, but hearing it now, she realized Merlin was right. She wouldn’t put it past Stuart to do something so rash.
But would he risk alienating his youngest son further with Derry in town? The conflict left her queasy. “I can’t believe Stuart would do something so impulsive.” Her hand tightened around her coffee cup as she imagined the horrible scene at BI later that afternoon.
Merlin shrugged. “Caith didn’t want to work for BI before. This could be my dad’s attempt at payback. A sort of ‘we weren’t good enough for you then, we don’t need you now’ attitude.”
She remembered what Caith had said the previous night on the drive to the lodge. “Did you call your father while he was on vacation and tell him Caith was here?”
“What does it matter?” His tone was confirmation enough.
“You did call him.” Before she could object further, she caught a flash of movement from the corner of her eye. Caith’s Explorer swung into an angled parking stall before the Coldcreek Herald.
Stepping from the vehicle, he spared a glance across the street. Despite the weather, he wore a long black coat unbuttoned to the elements. It flapped around his legs, billowed by the wind. When he turned and stepped inside the newspaper office, Veronica gathered her purse. “Merlin, I have to go.”
He swallowed the last of his grapefruit juice. “You hardly ate anything.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She inched out of the vinyl bench seat. “I just—”
“This is about Caith, isn’t it?”
Dumbstruck, she halted. He watched her silently, his expression unreadable. His gaze flicked toward the window. “I saw his car, Ron. It was hard not to with you looking across the street every five minutes.” He slumped against the seat. She expected him to be annoyed or dejected, but he seemed resigned.
“I knew this would happen. You’ve been in love with him your whole life.”
“That’s. Not. True.” Her mouth clamped shut on each word. The noise in the restaurant was suddenly louder. Her ears heated with embarrassment, and she slid quickly back into her seat.
“It’s partially my fault,” Merlin offered. “I’m not attentive. I get distracted easily.”
“With blondes and brunettes.” She couldn’t believe they discussed it so calmly. At the mention of Caith, her heart had quickened, blood thundering loudly in her ears. Now seeing Merlin’s easy smile, she relaxed, sensing they had reached an understanding. The pretense was gone, along with anger and guilt. Kinship returned, renewing the bond they’d shared as children.
“Guess we were never meant to be lovers.” Merlin reached across the table and took her hand. “We’ve always been better friends. I’ll be the first to admit you’ve put up with me longer than I deserve.” His lips curled in a sly grin. “So you’re dumping me for my black sheep, pain-in-the-ass brother?”
“Merlin, I never said I was in love with Caith.” Was she so blatantly obvious even he saw through her? The realization rolled over her like a storm. Unconsciously, she tightened her fingers over his. She couldn’t deny it. Not to Merlin.
“He doesn’t have to know we’ve decided to be friends.” The wicked delight was back in his voice. “Let’s have fun with this, Ron. There’s nothing I’d like more than pissing off my little brother.”
Appalled, she withdrew. “I don’t play those games, Merlin.” Even as she said the words, she cringed. Hadn’t she invited Merlin to breakfast hoping to make Caith jealous?
“So you’re just going to let him call the shots?”
“No one’s calling anything.” In an effort to collect herself, she stood. “I really have to go.”
“All right, but remember what I said. I’ve been angry at Caith for the last twelve years. Longer if I think about it.”
“I’ve never understood why. You were so close.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugged. “Things happen. People change. That’s for me and Caith to work out. In the meantime”—he grinned, the smile devilish and wide—“I’d be happy to play your lover a little longer.”
On impulse she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good friend, Merlin. I’ll see you later today at BI.”
As she hurried from the restaurant, it occurred to Veronica she hadn’t declined his offer a final time.
* * * *
“You have no right telling me what I can and can’t print.”
They were the first words Veronica heard as she pushed open the swinging, glass-fronted door and stepped into the cluttered office of the Coldcreek Herald. Voices rose in the background, angry and defiant, male and female, tangling one upon another in an effort to be heard.
The front office was divided into three cubicles and a small reception counter. Papers tottered in stacks on two of the desks, sloughing toward overspill. The walls were dark and dated, dressed with inexpensive brown paneling. One sheet had cracked down the center and someone had hung a painting of two men in a fishing boat, hoping to hide most of the flaw. The room was empty, but it was easy to follow the trail of voices to the rear.
“Damn it!” Caith slammed his fist on a heavy metal desk as Veronica stepped into the back room. “You leave my kid out of your trash tabloid and gossip column. If I see him mentioned again, I’ll slap this two-bit rag with a lawsuit so fast you won’t have time to cry editorial freedom.”
“You think you can threaten me?” Kelly Rice stood on the other side of the desk, looking imperious in a short blue skirt, silk shirt, and tailored jacket. Curvy and vivacious, the former prom queen had retained her lofty beauty. Her hair was long and flowing, as black as Caith’s, her eyes the color of antique brass. Even angry, there was something seductive about her.
“Your name isn’t Breckwood anymore, Caith.” Stalking around the desk, Kelly confronted him. “Even if it were, BI doesn’t own this town. The newspaper belongs to my family and I’ll print what I damn well please. If you don’t like what you read, stop snooping around the lodge and go back to Boston. As long as you’re here, you’re fair game. So is your past, and so is your kid.”
Caith lurched forward, then halted abruptly as he struggled for control. A vein ticked in his temple. When he spoke, restrained fury bristled on every word. “Listen to me, you vindictive bitch. I might not be able to stop you from printing your editorial garbage, but if anything, anything happens to Derry as a result, I’ll haul your ass into court and bleed this sleazy tabloid for every dime its worth. I might not be a Breckwood, but I’ve got the means to make your life miserable.”
“You are threatening me.” Her lips curved in an unsavory smile. “Perfect for my next column. And to think I was going to have to dredge up all that dirt about your past. This is so much better.”
“Caith.” Veronica stepped forward before the situation grew uglier. “This isn’t solving anything. Let’s go.”
“I should have known you’d show up.” Kelly raked Veronica with a demeaning glare. “You belong in this hick town, right along with all the poor saps relying on the mighty Breckwoods for their paycheck every Friday.”
Enough was enough. Veronica had tolerated the swill Kelly printed in her paper because she had no choice, but she wouldn’t be insulted face to face. Stepping forward, she pushed between the woman and Caith. “I’m not sure why you have t
his insane vendetta against the Breckwoods, but it’s obvious you’ve lost all objectivity. The Coldcreek Herald is one tiny paper, Kelly, and it doesn’t amount to anything stacked against a respected news journal. I think a few of the larger papers might be interested in how you’re using the first amendment to wage a personal battle against BI.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I have a friend at the Central Tribune. Jeff would find it interesting to see how you’re abusing your editorial license. I can almost guarantee he’d do an article, plastering your name in the paper for a change.”
Kelly’s face grew white. “You’re bluffing.” With effort she recovered her poise. “I’ve known you too long, Veronica. You don’t have it in you. Even now you’re tagging along on Caith’s heels, hoping for a crumb. Just for the record, he’s not that good in bed.”
“Probably because of his partner. I had no complaints.”
Kelly’s eyes widened in shock, providing Veronica a momentary thrill of one-upmanship. Before she could think it through, she turned, wrapped her arms around Caith’s neck, and kissed him hard.
He flinched, unprepared for her forwardness. A second later, she lost command of the kiss to his firm control. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he tugged her tightly to his thigh. The pressure of his leg wedged between hers sent her senses into a tailspin. He kissed her like a man with every intention of stealing her soul.
“Get a room,” Kelly snapped in disgust.
Shaken, Veronica tore free. Hot color flooded her cheeks. Mortified, she spun and hurried from the office. Outside wind and rain gusted into her face, biting and cold. Blindly, she raced across the street, humiliated she’d acted so brazenly. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled in her purse for her car keys.
“Veronica!” Caith’s voice bounced behind her, half lost in the drone of traffic and the blustery bite of rain. She shivered, hating the sudden sting of tears in her eyes. The rain made her hands slippery, and the key ring tumbled from her grip, plopping onto the wet asphalt.
Before she could move, Caith reached around her to retrieve the keys. He opened the door and shoved her into the dry interior of the car. Within seconds, he climbed into the passenger seat.