The morning hours passed slowly. Twice the bus stopped for gas, allowing the passengers to grab something to eat and stretch their legs before continuing the journey.
With each hour that brought them closer to San Bernardino, Hank seemed to grow more distant and more tense. Brook grew fussy, as if subtly picking up Hank’s tension.
By the time they pulled into the San Bernardino bus station, a stirring of responding crankiness raked through Colette. Her body ached from the hours cramped in the seat, her arms were exhausted from wrestling Brook. She was irritated by Hank’s withdrawal and anxious from his wariness.
“I’ll make a quick phone call, then we’ll rent a car to get to the safe house,” he said once they’d left the bus.
Colette nodded and followed him to a pay phone. He deposited a quarter then punched in a series of numbers. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said into the receiver. “We’re here and on our way to grandmother’s house.” He listened a moment or two, then uttered a goodbye and hung up.
“‘Grandmother’s house’?” Colette repeated as they walked toward the rental car counter.
“The safe house used to belong to one of our agent’s grandmother. Since the government bought it, we’ve always referred to it as grandmother’s house.”
Their conversation ceased as he went about the business of renting the car. Once they were settled in a midsize sedan, Colette attempted conversation again.
“So how far is it to grandmother’s house?” she asked, patting Brook’s back as the little girl fussed wearily.
“About fifteen minutes from here.” He eyed the baby and frowned. “Is the kid all right?”
“Her name is Brook,” Colette snapped. “Why do you have a problem calling her that? And no, she’s not all right. She’s tired of being held and cranky because her schedule is all topsy-turvy.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just a little cranky, too.”
“Cranky is allowed after a long bus ride.” He offered her a tired half smile. “Once we get to the house we can relax and you can get Brook back on some sort of schedule.”
“How did you get chosen for this particular assignment anyway?” she asked.
“This is what I do…what I’ve done for the past ten years. I guard witnesses, keep them safe until they testify in court against people who don’t want them to speak.”
“Have you guarded lots of women, or am I your first?” She blushed at the sexual connotation in the latter of her question.
His half grin widened. “No, you aren’t my first. There have been several women over the years.”
She gazed out the window, wondering if those women had tasted his lips, felt his body move against theirs, his moans whisper in their ears. Not that she cared. She’d decided whatever she felt for Hank couldn’t be love. She was in love with Brook’s father. What she felt for Hank was some sort of attraction magnified by their forced closeness.
“I thought you said we were only fifteen minutes from the house,” she said a few minutes later. “I get the feeling we’re driving around in circles.”
“We are,” he agreed. “Just making sure we aren’t being followed.”
“The first thing I intend to do is take a long, hot shower.”
“Hmm, and I want a big meal, anything that doesn’t come wrapped in cellophane or biodegradable paper.”
“Will there be food there or will we have to grocery shop?”
“The house is fully furnished and the pantries should be completely stocked. You won’t be sticking your head out the door for anything until the prosecutor sends a car to pick you up for the trial.”
“I’m going to need some more things for Brook.”
He nodded. “Whatever you need, let me know and I’ll get it for you.”
“We should be fine until tomorrow, then I’ll need some more formula and diapers.” It was easier to focus on these mundane things in an effort to ignore the electricity that sizzled in the air between them.
It was the same electricity that had been building from the moment they had finished making love. Their lovemaking had only provided a temporary respite and she knew the charged air was desire building again, needing to be sated once more.
Colette didn’t intend to let it happen again. The first time had confused her enough. She needed to keep some distance from Hank, knew it would be far too easy to allow the circumstances of their forced closeness to dictate her heart.
“This is it,” he said as he finally pulled into the driveway of a small, nondescript house in a quiet neighborhood.
This was where she’d spend the next fourteen days of her life, Colette thought as she looked at the house with interest. Painted white, with Wedgwood blue shutters, the house and lawn looked well kept, as if owned by a family with pride. “It looks nice.” It certainly didn’t look like a government-owned place for keeping witnesses.
“Come on, let’s get inside and get you that shower and I’ll see if I can rustle us up something to eat.”
Inside, the house welcomed with comfortable furniture in earth tones and the lingering scent of lemon oil. “At least it’s clean,” Hank said as he set his duffel bag down. “The last time I came here it looked like a pigpen. I raised all kinds of hell.”
“Your hellraising must have worked. It looks spotless.” She walked through the living room and peeked into the kitchen, where the countertops gleamed and the kitchen table sported a centerpiece of wooden fruit.
From the kitchen she went down a short hallway, stopping at the first doorway that led to a bedroom. A double bed, dresser drawers and a nightstand gave the room a functional air. The floral bedspread and matching curtains added a touch of warmth.
The second bedroom held a double bed, but also had a crib shoved into one corner. “They knew you’d be bringing Brook,” Hank said from behind her.
He stood so close to her she felt his breath on the nape of her neck. She moved farther into the room, away from him. “Looks like I’ll bunk in here.” She placed Brook on the bed and turned to look at Hank. “If you’ll bring me Brook’s things from your duffel bag, I think I’ll give her a quick sponge bath and put her down in the crib. She’ll probably be happy to sleep without being held for a change.”
His gaze shot from the bed, back to her, and for a moment she saw a flame light his eyes, a flame that beckoned her. Her mouth grew dry as she realized he was thinking of her on the bed with him. “Hank…Brook’s things?” she said, needing to break the spell.
“Yeah, right.” He turned, left, and was back a moment later with the baby items he’d carried in his duffel bag. He tossed them onto the bed, then left the room without another word.
Colette drew in a deep breath, her fingers shaking slightly as she undressed Brook. How was she ever going to spend the next fourteen days with Hank in this house and not fall into the fire of his eyes?
Carrying Brook into the bathroom, Colette tried to shove thoughts of Hank away. She found a washcloth beneath the sink and focused her attention on giving Brook a bath. She laughed as the little girl squirmed and waved her arms in the air, obviously enjoying the feel of the warm cloth against her naked skin.
Once Brook was clean, rediapered and in a fresh sleeper, Colette gave her a bottle, then put her down for a nap. She stood for a long moment by the side of the crib, loving her daughter, wondering if they had a future.
“Colette?” Hank appeared in her doorway. “I’ve got a couple of steaks ready to eat.”
She followed him into the kitchen. He’d set the table and on each plate was a large steak and a baked potato. “How’d you manage this in such a short time?” she asked in amazement as she slid into a chair at the table.
“The miracles of modern technology.” He pointed to a microwave on the countertop. “Broiled steaks and zapped potatoes only take minutes.” He scooted into the chair across from her.
They fell on the food like hungry vultures; no need for conversation as they fed the more basic need of hunger. The only sounds in the room were
the clinking of their silverware and the steady tick-tock of a big-faced clock above the stove.
As Colette finished the meal, she became more aware of the ticking of the clock, the passing of time. She wanted time to pass fast, to carry her quickly to trial and on with the rest of her life. This place and Hank were interims from life, a kind of limbo that could possibly become a blend of heaven and hell.
“Hank, what happens if I don’t get back my memories?”
He shoved his plate aside and looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. It will be up to the prosecutors how to handle it.” He stood and carried his plate to the sink. “But we’re still fourteen days out from the trial. A lot of things can happen in fourteen days.”
“Don’t remind me,” Colette returned, also rising and picking up her plate. “You cooked, I’ll do cleanup.”
“I’ll help. There isn’t much else to do.”
As she filled the sink with soapy water, he carried the last of the dishes on the table to her. “I asked you this before, but it was at a time when you weren’t telling me much, where are you from, Hank? Where’s home?”
“I think I told you then, here and there. That was pretty much the truth.” He picked up a dishtowel to dry the dishes as she washed and rinsed them. “I rent a room not far from here, but I don’t spend much time there.”
“How did you learn so much about horses? You looked like a natural at the ranch.”
“My mother was a horsewoman, raised and bred them on a ranch in North Carolina. I think I learned to ride before I could walk.” He wiped a plate and replaced it in the cabinet, then leaned against the counter. “I will tell you this, being at your ranch made me remember how much I once loved that kind of life.” He picked up another plate. “Who knows, perhaps when this case is finished, I’ll find myself a ranch and go back to breaking horses.”
“You could always come back to our place.” The words flew out of Colette’s mouth without forethought. She forced a laugh. “I might be in need of a horse-breaking bodyguard when this is all over.”
He eyed her darkly, his sensual lips upturned in a smile that threatened to steal Colette’s breath away. “I’m probably not the best candidate for guarding your body. In fact, I’m afraid I have to admit that at the moment I’m thinking thoughts that have nothing to do with guard duty.”
Colette tore her gaze from his, refusing to fall into the sensual web his dark eyes spun. “I think I hear Brook crying.” She dried her hands and escaped the kitchen and Hank’s heated gaze.
* * *
HANK KNEW Brook hadn’t cried, knew in truth Colette had run from the desire he’d been fighting since the moment they’d finished making love yesterday. He finished the dishes, then threw himself onto the sofa in the living room, trying not to think of the taste of her, the feel of her.
Outside evening shadows encroached on the last of the day’s light, shrouding the room in purple twilight. He flipped on the light on the end table, vaguely aware of the sound of the water running in the bathroom. Colette must be having her long-awaited shower.
He frowned, an image of her standing beneath the spray teasing his mind. Somehow, someway she’d managed to crawl under his skin. He wanted her with a mindless intensity, a craving that hadn’t been sated by their lovemaking the day before.
Just one more time. Surely if he made love to her properly, in a bed, one more time, it would finally end the hunger. He knew she wanted him, had seen desire flash in her eyes before she’d turned and ran from the kitchen.
Without being conscious of his own movement, he found himself standing outside the bathroom door. He placed a hand on the doorknob. If it was locked, he’d turn away, go do a series of sit-ups to ease the building pressure. The knob turned easily beneath his grip.
He knew then she wouldn’t turn him away, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. She could have locked the door, kept him out, but she hadn’t.
He let go of the knob only long enough to take his clothes off, then he turned it once again, this time entering the steam-filled room.
Through the floral shower curtain he could just barely make out the shape of her, the dark silhouette increasing his desire. When he pulled the shower curtain aside, she didn’t jump in surprise, nor did she flinch beneath the intensity of his gaze.
Soap lather clung to her shoulders and dripped down her torso. Her hair was slicked back away from her face, her eyelashes spiked with wetness. She looked beautiful.
“Hank.” It wasn’t a protest, nor was it a verbal caress, it was simply acceptance.
“I thought you might need help scrubbing your back.” His voice sounded odd, husky as it bounced off the walls of the tub. He waited, tensed, to see if she’d welcome him or reject him. His throat grew dry as he waited for her reaction, wondering if he would—if he could—stop now.
She reached out and handed him the bar of soap.
It was all the acceptance he needed. He stepped into the tub, beneath the warm spray and took her into his arms. Her skin was slippery and sweet smelling from the soap, and fire blazed in his veins as the tips of her breasts slid back and forth over his chest.
With the water spraying his back and her body caressing his front, he was overwhelmed with pleasure. He fought for control, feeling like an eager teen experiencing his first foray into lovemaking. And if he wasn’t careful, like an inexperienced teen, he’d spend himself before ever actually committing the act.
He stepped back from her and ducked his head beneath the water, then gasped as she placed her mouth against his chest, kissing him with tormenting thoroughness. He wanted her to stop. He wanted her never to stop.
“Oh, Colette,” he moaned. Once again he grabbed her to him and captured her wicked lips with his own. His hands ran down the length of her back and cupped the curves of her buttocks, pulling her against him with another moan.
He was no longer sure whether the moans were hers or his own. He was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, emotion so deep, he no longer could tell where she left off and he began. The entire world had narrowed and compressed, becoming only this moment and this woman.
Not wanting to finish what they had begun in the uncomfortable confines of the tub, Hank picked her up in his arms and stepped out of the bathtub.
“Hank…the water,” she said as he started out the bathroom door.
He smiled. “We can shut it off later. The government pays the bills.”
It was a very long time before the water was finally turned off.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Twelve more days. Where before Colette couldn’t wait for the days to count down, she now found herself wishing each day would last forever.
No longer able to fool herself, she knew she had fallen in love with Hank. And she couldn’t help but believe that Hank had feelings for her, as well. Although he didn’t say anything, continued to hold on to his silly rules of no commitment, no promises, Colette saw promises in his eyes each time they made love. She’d tasted unspoken promises on his lips as they kissed. She didn’t know exactly what the future held, but she wanted Hank to be a part of hers.
She stretched languidly against the cotton sheets, knowing she should get up, but reluctant to leave the cocoon of the sheets that still held the residual scent of Hank’s cologne.
She knew Hank was probably already up. Although he’d remained in her room making love to her into the night, he’d slept alone in the second bedroom. She’d discovered he was a man who required little sleep, but had voracious appetites in all other areas. She smiled, her body still tingling with remembered sensations of his caresses.
They’d spent the day yesterday playing cards to pass the time. Unsurprisingly, she’d found him to be fiercely competitive. During the card games, he’d relaxed enough to talk, telling her stories of his youth that only deepened her feelings for him. He’d spoken of growing up a wild child who communed with horses and hunted pretend criminals with a wooden gun. He spoke lovingly of his mother, his eyes d
ark with pain when he talked of her death.
Colette got out of bed, suddenly eager to spend every minute of the day with him. She showered and dressed quickly, then seeing that Brook was still sleeping, she went into the kitchen.
Hank sat at the table, a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked up as she entered. “I spoke to the boss a little while ago. They’re sending out a doctor to talk to you this morning.”
“A doctor?” She poured herself a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. “To try to get my memory back?”
He nodded and eyed her intently. “Scared?”
“A little.” She smiled gratefully as he reached out and touched her hand reassuringly. “I keep thinking there’s something bad in my memory…something besides the murder.”
He pulled his hand back and looked down into his coffee. “Whatever it is, it’s possible you’ll know soon.” He reared back in his chair, his eyes dark and enigmatic. “Before long this will all be behind you, nothing but a distant memory. You’ll go back to your life and find some nice man to marry.”
“Hank…”
“Don’t, Colette.” The front legs of his chair hit the floor and he held up a hand, as if he knew the words of love she wanted to blurt, those that burned to be said. “You know my rules. We’ve managed to make it through a lot together, and found an enjoyable way to pass the time.”
“An enjoyable way to pass the time?” Colette’s heart ached. She’d thought…she’d hoped…had she been so mistaken? No, she hadn’t imagined the tenderness in his gaze, the love that had flowed from him in unguarded moments.
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe that’s all it was for you. There’s more between us than that. I’m in your heart, Hank.”
He smiled, not a pleasant one, his eyes as cold as death. “That’s impossible, my sweet little coquette. It’s impossible because I don’t have a heart.” He stood. “I’m going to watch the news.” He disappeared into the living room and a moment later the sound of the portable television filled the house.
Sunset Promises Page 17