“No, the stove doesn’t work,” he growled. He ran a hand over his bristly chin. “I need to shave, too.”
“Does the plumbing—”
“Probably not.” With a disgruntled sigh, he returned to his seat. “I guess we can rough it for one night. I noticed the public bathrooms have shower facilities.”
“No problem.” Candice snuggled into the oversized jacket. Was she imagining it, or did Austin seem to be avoiding physical contact? Other than a casual touch of his hand helping her in and out of the motor home, he hadn’t attempted to kiss her or pull her close.
It was dark. They were relatively secluded, alone with the stars above, the mountains around them, and the campfire between them. A night made for cuddling, for romance, for love. Was he perhaps waiting for her to make the first move? Candice mulled over the possibility. What if she did, and it wasn’t what he wanted?
She reached a hand inside her jacket and placed it on the growing mound of her stomach, forcing herself to consider that her advancing pregnancy could be the answer to his sudden aversion to touching her. Oh, he still looked at her with enough fire in his eyes to scorch her skin, and he was still the same attentive Austin he’d always been. Except he hadn’t touched her all day. Yet just last night…
“I guess you’re waiting,” Austin said, interrupting her troubled thoughts.
“What?” Candice blinked at him, uncertain of his meaning. Could he somehow know what she’d been thinking?
“The promise I made? You share with me and I’ll share with you?” he clarified.
“Oh.” She hoped it was dark enough to hide her fiery face, because she’d been thinking something entirely different! “Yes, that. Well, whenever you’re ready. We’ve got all night.”
Obviously he wasn’t in a hurry to go to bed.
“You already know that my father left me some money,” Austin began. “And I told you that I haven’t touched it for reasons I didn’t care to mention. The biggest reason is because my father didn’t come by his fortune honestly.”
“Drugs?”
He glanced sharply at her. “How did you know?”
“I’m psychic?” Candice smiled impishly, hoping to put him at ease. Talking about his father was clearly a painful subject. “Actually, Mrs. Merryweather found an old newspaper in the Cadillac. There was an article about Drummond Hyde that caught her attention.” She shrugged to show that it made no difference to her who his father was. And it didn’t. “Together we figured it out.”
The sharp planes and angles of his face softened visibly. He even managed a faint smile. “Nancy Drew in the flesh. So now you also know why I’ve preferred to make my own way instead of using my inheritance.”
Candice nodded. “Were you very young when he died?”
“Young enough not to remember him. My mother remarried six months later.”
“So you grew up with a stepfather, too,” Candice observed. Something else they had in common. “What was he like?”
Austin snorted, turning his gaze to the fire and away from her searching eyes. “I wouldn’t know. My mother hired a score of nannies to ease her guilty conscience, and when I was old enough, I was shipped off to boarding school.”
Candice leaned forward. “Was it so horrible? Boarding school, I mean? I’ve already considered—”
“No!”
She jerked back at his vehemence.
He continued in a hard-edged tone she’d never heard him use before. “Promise me you will never send ou—your baby to a boarding school!”
He’d nearly said our baby, Candice noted, her entire body suffusing with warmth at the slip. How different her life would be if it were true!
It could still happen, a tiny voice of hope whispered. Austin wasn’t her baby’s biological father, but if they were married, she knew with certainty that he would make a wonderful stepfather.
She clasped her hands together to still their silly trembling. “If it’s as bad as you say, then of course I won’t consider it. I only want what’s best for my child.”
Austin sighed. “Some boarding schools are okay. I guess it was worse for us because—”
“Us?”
“Me and my brother.” He squinted into the fire, his voice devoid of self-pity but laced with an underlying bitterness that made Candice wince on his behalf. “It was worse for us because we knew we’d been abandoned. Mother was too busy spending her new husband’s money to bother with her children.”
She hadn’t known Austin had a brother. Good grief, she was sleeping with the man and she hadn’t known he had a brother! “Is your mother still alive?” she asked gently.
“Yes. She lives in Italy with her fifth husband.”
The fire flared as another branch caught. Through the flames, she saw his mouth twist, but she didn’t think he was smiling.
“We don’t see much of her.”
He didn’t sound as if he cared, but Candice instinctively sensed that he did. Just as she cared that Pete Clancy had always resented her, even after her mother died. Childhood wounds left scars that took a long time to fade.
She hesitated over her next question, wondering how far she should go. “Is your mother the reason you’ve never married?” When he lifted a questioning eyebrow, she flushed. “Dr. Jack said as much.”
His answer was abrupt, yet his eyes traveled over her in that all-consuming way that made her forget his tone. “I never married because I never found the right woman.”
“Oh.” Candice didn’t know what to say, but she knew what she wanted him to say.
She wanted him to say until you.
“I’m glad we’ve had an opportunity to talk,” Austin said.
Candice suppressed a sigh. Not exactly the words she longed to hear. “I’m glad, too.” She hastily covered her mouth as she yawned. The long trip, the food, and the warmth of the fire were all catching up with her.
“Sleepy?” Before she could answer, he leaped to his feet. “I’ll go make our beds. Mrs. Merryweather will have my head if I bring you back exhausted.”
Beds. As the word sank in, Candice wanted to shriek her frustration. She had been looking forward all day to falling asleep in his arms, and he was making their beds! Apparently her growing suspicions about his waning desire were true.
Then why, she asked herself, did he still look at her as if he desired her?
Candice got angrily to her feet, exasperated and confused by his conflicting signals. She would go inside and make her own damned bed, show him that she wasn’t helpless. If Austin harbored some crazy notion that she would beg him to make love to her, then he was sadly mistaken.
She begged no one.
———
By the third night, Austin decided he’d rather do without air to breathe, water to drink, and food to eat, because doing without any of those necessities couldn’t possibly make him as miserable as he was when he wasn’t touching Candice.
And it wasn’t just the great sex, either, he concluded as he stared at the RV’s ceiling sometime after midnight and listened to the steady patter of rain. He missed the softness of her skin, the eager way she hugged him when he held her, and the absolute joy of kissing her very kissable mouth. If he thought he could trust himself, he’d leap over into her bunk right now and pull her close. Hold her all night long. Kiss her neck and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.
Even more frustrating was the fact that Candice didn’t seem to notice or care that he wasn’t his usual affectionate self. She smiled and laughed, proving to be a great conversationalist and a fun companion. He’d known she would be, of course.
Secretly, though, he had been hoping she would protest the separate bunks. But to his chagrin, she had yawned in his face, wished him good night, and crawled beneath the covers without a hint of reluctance. Moments later, he’d heard her snoring softly while he lay awake, his body aching, his mind torturing him with erotic fantasies.
They had talked about everything under the sun. Not surprisingly, Austi
n discovered that many of their values and beliefs about life in general were similar.
He took her fishing on the second day, and today they had sailed around the lake until the clouds rolled in and forced them to come ashore. Once inside the motor home, they had eaten cold ham sandwiches and played a long, competitive game of gin rummy. Candice had beaten him soundly, gloating over her victory until Austin had teasingly threatened to lock her out in the rain.
She had tossed her head and dared him to try.
With a groan, Austin turned onto his side. It was different when they were fishing, or sailing, or simply huddling around the campfire outdoors. Now, with the rain keeping them in the close confines of the camper, he didn’t know if he could resist making love to her. Hell, they could hardly pass each other without inadvertently touching.
Finally, lulled by the rhythmic sound of the rain, Austin felt himself relaxing.
He awoke the next morning to the sound of Candice humming lightly. He lay still for a moment, holding his breath, listening for another sound that he dreaded to hear.
And there it was: rain. A natural element that was quickly becoming synonymous with agony. With a muttered curse, Austin rolled from his bunk and landed on his feet. And froze.
Candice stood before the small hotplate he’d purchased at a bait shop after failing to get results from the small camper stove. She wore an oversized sleep shirt that left a tantalizing amount of thigh exposed. Her feet were bare, her face was scrubbed free of makeup, and she’d tucked her hair into a lopsided bun on top of her head. The careless style left long tendrils of soft blond hair lying against her neck.
She looked not only happy but incredibly sexy.
Desire weakened Austin’s knees. Gritting his teeth, he reached out and gripped the bar holding the folding dining table in place against the wall. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded hoarsely.
She gasped and jerked around, clutching a spoon to her chest. “Oh, you startled me. I’m scrambling eggs.” Her sunny smile mocked the gloomy weather. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Was he hungry? Hungrier than a bear after a long winter. A male bear, that is, one more interested in finding a mate than in finding food. As he stood there, struggling against the urge to snatch her up and carry her to bed, she dropped her spoon.
Watching her bend over was almost as agonizing as the rain. She didn’t squat but bent from the waist, giving him a full view of her long slim legs and her perky bottom encased in white cotton panties.
Austin’s throat felt terribly dry. It sounded it, too, when he commanded her to turn off the burner.
She looked surprised. “Why would I do that? The eggs aren’t finished yet.”
“Because they’ll burn,” he croaked.
Her brow furrowed with concern. “Austin, are you sick?”
“You could say that.” Addiction was a sickness, wasn’t it? And he was definitely addicted to her.
Her concern deepened. She turned off the burner and laid the spoon in the skillet. “Is there anything I can do? Are you running a fever?”
Slowly, Austin let go of the bar and steadied himself. His gaze burned into hers as he said softly, “Maybe you should come here and check.”
He was going to break his temporary vow of abstinence and spend the whole rainy day making love to her over and over. They’d talked enough, hadn’t they?
She padded over to him, standing very close. So close, in fact, that Austin was certain she could feel his arousal against her belly.
That was his first clue that she knew the exact nature of his problem.
Her eyes were soft and glowing as she pressed a cool hand against his forehead. She quirked an eyebrow. “No, you’re not warm there.” She moved her hand to his bare chest, curling her fingers in his hair.
Austin sucked in a scorching breath and held it. The minx.
She shook her head, her lips twitching. “Not here, either.”
Her hand dropped lower. Slowly, her fingers closed around his throbbing length. “Now, this is hot,” she murmured, sounding very satisfied.
With a primitive growl Austin swooped her up and carried her to his bunk. She laughed and wound her arms around his neck, kissing his throat, his chin, and finally his mouth.
The rain continued well into the evening, and Austin didn’t care.
Later, as he and Candice lay snuggled, spoon fashion, on the bunk after a prolonged bout of lovemaking, he stroked her damp hair from her brow and tried not to think about the uncertain future. He wished like hell he could just blurt out the truth and get it behind them.
But fear of rejection stilled his tongue.
Candice moved his hand to cover her belly, then covered his hand with her own. “When you didn’t touch me,” she said softly, “I thought this was the cause.”
Austin sat up abruptly. He turned her onto her back so that he could look at her face. It never occurred to him that Candice would think such a thing. “You have to know that’s not true!” he exclaimed. The irony of it struck him. “You become more desirable to me every day.” Which was true.
When she didn’t look convinced, he bent forward and pressed his lips to her belly then turned his cheek so that it lay against her soft skin. What more could he say without making her suspicious? And he couldn’t tell her, not now.
He wanted—no, he needed—this time alone with Candice. Here in the park, miles from the city and reporters and his crazy brother, he could almost pretend everything was perfect. And he could almost hope she would fall hopelessly, eternally in love.
———
The sun was high in the sky, the rain long gone by the time they stumbled out of the motor home the next morning and headed for the showers.
Austin left Candice on the threshold of the women’s rest room after a sweet, lingering kiss before making his happy way to an empty shower stall in the men’s section. Armed with soap, shampoo, deodorant, clean clothes, and a towel, he whistled as he scrubbed himself beneath the tepid spray.
He was forcing himself to think optimistically. Maybe Candice did love him enough to forgive him. When she was in his arms, he could believe it; it was the harsh light of day that brought on the doubts. He lathered his hair with shampoo, closing his eyes tightly as he stuck his head beneath the spray to rinse off. If he could just convince her that he hadn’t meant to hurt her—
“Here’s a washcloth,” a familiar voice said, shocking him into opening his eyes.
What the hell—? Soapy lather rushed in before he could get them closed again. He groped around until his hand closed over the proffered washcloth, pressing it against his aching eyeballs.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Austin dared to open one burning eye as if his brain refused to believe what his vision had not yet verified.
Jack’s apprehensive face peered back at him around the shower curtain.
So he wasn’t hallucinating. Jack was here. Right here with him in a park rest room hundreds of miles from home. A bad feeling settled in his gut—which wasn’t unusual when Jack was around—only this time it was worse. For Jack to travel so far could only mean bad news.
He quickly finished rinsing his hair and snatched the towel from Jack’s fingers. As he dried himself, he began to fire questions at his half brother. “How did you find us?”
“Wasn’t easy. I got here yesterday afternoon but didn’t find your camper until late.” He shook his head. “I have to admit, bro, you could have done better than that piece of tin.”
Jack didn’t know the half of it, Austin thought sourly. “Go on.” If ever there came a time when Jack had good news to tell him, he would kiss his feet. He felt pretty confident he would never have to.
“As I was saying, I found you late last night, but I decided to get a hotel room and come back this morning.” He paused before adding solemnly, “I thought it would be best if Mrs. Vanausdale didn’t see me.”
Austin finished toweling off and stepped out of the shower
stall, glad to find they were alone. He plucked his clean shirt from the pile of clothes neatly folded on the bench—compliments of his compulsively neat brother. Funny, how Jack didn’t practice what he preached regarding his own appearance. “How did you know I’d come here?”
“I didn’t. I parked at the empty site next to yours and waited until you came out of the camper. When I saw where you were heading, I followed you, keeping a safe distance so as not to encounter Mrs. Vanausdale.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his wrinkled pants and looked around him at the damp, grayish walls of the shower area. “I hope Mrs. Vanausdale uses an antibacterial soap,” he muttered.
“If she’s had you coaching her, I’m sure she does.” Austin ground his teeth as he yanked his jeans over his hips and fastened the metal button. He loved Jack, but he resented this intrusion. “Are you going to get around to telling me why you’ve come all the way from Sacramento? And let me warn you, Jack, it had better be good. Damned good.”
“That’s not exactly the word I would use, because the news is grim.”
Austin shot him a look before sitting on the bench to slip his sandals over his bare feet. “Are you sure you’re not being overly dramatic?” he asked hopefully.
Jack wore a tragic expression as he said, “Someone broke into my office, Austin.”
“Who was it?” Austin came to his feet, resisting the familiar urge to shake the information from Jack.
But then he remembered how unrevealing Candice’s file was.
Relief turned his bones to butter, forcing him to resume his seat. “There was nothing in Candice’s file, Jack, that would implicate you or me. Seems you came all this way for nothing.” Not to mention scaring the shit out of him.
“I wish that were true.”
Hell. Double hell. Austin stared at Jack, blood rushing to his head. In a low, furious voice, he asked, “Exactly what are you saying?”
Jack put a comfortable distance between them, his face pale and strained. “I kept some personal files locked in my desk, notes and things on various transactions.”
“Such as?”
“A list”—Jack swallowed visibly, then finished in a rush—”of possible donors. Your name was circled, with Mrs. Vanausdale’s name written beside it.”
Mr. Hyde’s Assets Page 22