Bound to You

by Bethany Kane

  The problem was, real men were in somewhat short supply in Los Angeles these days. After her two-year relationship with actor Everett Hughes ended, Jennifer had been largely abstinent. Everett and she were both cautious about who they saw because of their celebrity backgrounds. Locating the rare man who also wouldn’t sell her out to the press was becoming increasingly difficult.

  “Well? Do you have service on your phone?” he asked.

  She started, momentarily forgetting the task at hand. She glanced at her phone and groaned. “No.”

  He said nothing, nor did he seem particularly affected by the news. She winced as she tried to stand.

  “I told you stay still for a moment.”

  “Fine,” she said irritably. She plunked her butt back down on the ground. “You seem to be fit and feisty—you walk around the chamber and see if you can get service anywhere else.” She stuck her hand out, but he made no move to take her phone. He was obviously angry with her, and she couldn’t say she blamed him. Her carelessness had landed them both here. Literally.

  “I told you I didn’t mean to fall down this hole. It’s not my fault you followed me.”

  “You’re right. I only have my own idiocy to blame for that,” he said under his breath. He sat down on the ground, his long legs sprawled before him. He whipped off his coat and began to dig in his coat pockets.

  “What are you doing?” she asked nervously. Surely he wasn’t searching for a knife or gun, was he?

  “I’m checking my pockets.” He stated the obvious in a dry tone. “You might do the same. It’ll help to know what supplies we have. At least we have water,” he added, nodding toward the trickling waterfall.

  “I already know what I have in my pockets. A protein bar, half a package of Certs, my thermos, keys, some ID, tissues—”

  “Check anyway,” he interrupted. “Sometimes we forget about stuff we put in our pockets.”

  She scooted closer to the beam of dusty sunshine and stuck her hands in her pockets. “Why don’t you come into the sunlight to do that?” she asked. She could make out his outline clearly now, could even see the bright white background of his plaid shirt.

  “I don’t need sunlight,” he said, sounding distracted as he searched his pockets.

  “Do you have a cell phone too?”

  “No. I left it at the cabin.”

  “Don’t you think it’d be best, then, to take my phone and try to find coverage somewhere in this hellhole?” she asked, her patience ebbing.

  He continued to search in the many pockets of his coat, calmly ignoring her question. He never drew anything out for her to see, just moved from one pocket to the other. She was reminded of the way he’d examined her body so thoroughly. A shiver of excitement coursed through her, but irritation prevailed.

  To hell with this. She knew precisely what was going to happen if she stopped moving and reflected on the fact that she was trapped underground. Best to do anything to distract her overactive brain from working her into a frenzy of fear. She groaned as she stood slowly, all the while cursing the man for his aloofness.

  “I told you to sit still for a while before you tried to stand, honey,” he said calmly. She was too busy fighting against aches and pains to snap at him for calling her “honey.” Besides, it didn’t sound anywhere near as patronizing as she would have thought it would. The term rolled easily off his tongue in a subtle country drawl, pleasant . . . warm.

  “Did you check your pockets?”

  “Yes, and you were right,” she admitted a few seconds later, gritting her teeth against discomfort. “I have another protein bar in a pocket I’d forgotten about. Can’t say how old it is, but it’s something. Plus, I have some hand sanitizer.”

  She staggered toward the rock wall to her right, determined to ignore the aches that plagued her. The darkness crowded around her faster than she’d imagined it would. She used her cell phone like a flashlight the farther she got from the beam of sunshine. Thankfully, her pains faded somewhat as she walked.

  She circled the periphery of the chamber. She noticed she still didn’t have cell phone coverage at the same moment she spied the white skeleton of a small animal on the ground.

  “What?” he demanded a second later.

  Jennifer glanced back, her cheeks heating. She’d let out an embarrassing shriek at the sight of the bones. “Nothing. It’s just an old animal skeleton.”

  He stood so agilely she was taken aback. Clearly he wasn’t in as much discomfort as she was. He strode toward her, his shadow growing darker and more sinister-looking the closer he got. He knelt when he got near her and put out his hand. When he reached the bones, he touched them briefly.

  “Squirrel,” he said.

  “Fascinating. Maybe we can find a live one and roast it if we can’t get out of here,” she said as she watched him reach for the caved-in portion of the manmade tunnel. She could just make out his fingertips running over the pile of soil, timber and debris.

  “Be careful! There are nails in some of those pieces of wood,” she warned.

  He didn’t respond, just stood and stepped several feet to their right, his hand brushing against the solid limestone wall.

  “You’re not going to get any cell phone coverage down here,” he said as he walked. She followed him.

  “Don’t be so negative,” she remonstrated lightly. He approached the waterfall and rolled back one sleeve of his shirt. He reached through the water and touched the stone behind it. Then he rinsed both his hands. Jennifer hesitated, wanting to do the same, but not wanting to forsake the light of her phone. She compromised by setting it down, the greenish light glowing at her from the ground.

  “It’s cold,” she murmured, her fingers moving in the trickling water. She watched as he cupped some water in his hand, smelled and then tasted it. It must have passed the test because he took a larger swallow of it and wiped his mouth before turning away.

  At least they had water, she thought, lifting her jacket and wiping her hands on her shirt. She retrieved her phone and hurried after him. She wouldn’t allow the panic that had entered her awareness a moment ago to take hold of her. It’d been pure shock that had made the image of two human skeletons spring into her mind’s eye when she’d seen the squirrel bones. Just because a forest animal had died down in this underground trap didn’t mean they would. And wasn’t there that wonderful, blessed beam of sunshine partially lighting up the darkness? A thought occurred to her and she brightened.

  “You live near here, don’t you? Surely someone will miss you and come looking for you in a bit.”

  “I stay alone.”

  Great, she thought, images of psycho Unabomber-type characters living alone in the woods flickering through her brain. Still, he’d said he was a chiropractor. He wasn’t entirely a societal misfit. And she’d caught a whiff of him when he’d been examining her after the fall. He smelled of the woods and a lime- and spice-scented soap. Surely Ted Kaczynski hadn’t taken so much time with his hygiene.

  His touch had certainly been gentle. And knowing—

  “What’s your name?” she asked as they continued to make their way around the periphery of the cave. He seemed to be looking for something along the rock walls, using his hands to aid him in the near-pitch blackness.

  “John Corcoran.”

  “I’m Jennifer. Look, I’m really sorry about this.”

  Panic curled around her throbbing heart when the darkness swallowed him and he didn’t immediately reply.

  “I was a fool to follow you,” he said.

  She exhaled in relief when his gruff voice emanated from just a few feet ahead. She flipped her cell phone around and saw a hazy image of his face in the glowing light. He’d paused, one hand on the rock wall. He stared back at her. Had he heard her gasp of fear?

  His jawline was strong and tilted at a determined . . . possibly stubborn angle. His beard wasn’t quite as long as she’d imagined when she’d first seen him standing on the path. It was more like a tw
o- or three-day shave-free scruff. His hair looked thick and midnight black in the shadows. He hadn’t had it cut in a while. It had a natural wave. Jennifer figured it was the kind of hair most women and a good portion of men on the planet would have gladly given a couple of years off their life to possess. His nose seemed at first a little large, but then she realized it fit somehow perfectly with the rest of his masculine features. It was a bold face . . . a masculine one . . .

  An arresting one.

  “I’m sure you’re furious at me, but could you manage to at least be polite? This situation is bad enough without you barking at me,” she said quietly.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, sounding exasperated by her prickliness. “I just meant that if I hadn’t followed you, I would have been able to direct the rescue team toward your location. I followed you for maybe a mile and a half before I caught up to you. Now no one knows where either of us is. It’ll be like finding a needle in a haystack to locate a three-by-three-foot hole in the entire forest. The stream is going to make it difficult for anyone to hear our shouts. Enzo won’t wander twenty feet from the hole in order to meet any rescue workers.”

  “It’s that serious?” she asked slowly. “But I only hiked maybe five miles before I got here. Surely the search area won’t be so wide?”

  “You went about seven and a half miles from Rill Pierce’s place.”

  Her hand fell in surprise, plunging them into temporary darkness. “How did you know I was staying with Rill and Katie Pierce?”

  “Rill Pierce is our resident celebrity,” he replied dryly. “Where else would a movie star be staying around here but a big Hollywood film director’s house?”

  “You . . . you know who I am?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his cursory manner making her feel like the knowledge was about as relevant as her telling him her favorite color. He again turned his attention to charting out the cave.

  “So it’ll take a while for them to find us, but they’ll find us, right?” Jennifer persisted, tailing him closely, afraid of him escaping her sight.

  “I don’t know when, but chances are they’ll find us.”

  “Chances are?” she asked, her voice echoing shrilly off the limestone walls.

  “Did you tell the Pierces where you were going to hike?”

  She groaned. He paused and turned toward her again.

  “What?”

  “I just remembered—Rill, Katie and the baby went to St. Louis for a doctor’s appointment. They won’t be home until late, and I’m staying at the guest cottage on their property. They won’t realize I’m not in there until tomorrow.”

  He said nothing, just continued his exploration of the cave walls. She felt judged by his silence.

  “I know it was stupid, going into a prohibited area of the forest without telling anyone. I’m so used to hiking, I never thought twice about it. And I had my cell phone.” She groaned in disappointment. “I still don’t have any signal.”

  “You might as well save your battery on that,” he said.

  “Isn’t the light from it helping you?”

  “No. I can’t see, so the light doesn’t matter.”

  It took a moment for his meaning to settle.

  “Wait, are you saying—”

  “I’m blind.”

  Jennifer just stared at him for several seconds in openmouthed shock. Her first reaction was dread that her partner in catastrophe was disabled in any way, but then she glanced around the dim cavern. In a matter of hours it would be pitch black in here. Her cell phone battery would only last for so long. John’s “disability” became an asset when she considered they were stuck in a black hole together.

  She turned the light on her cell phone off. Fear immediately rose in her, ready to pounce. She switched the light back on.

  “I’ll just send a text message to the Pierces. If there’s a window of opportunity for reception, there’s a chance it will go out and they could call the local authorities.”

  “A very small chance, but maybe. Might as well try,” John muttered under his breath. “Tell them we’re trapped about a mile and a half southwest of my cabin in the vicinity of the old mines, just off the path in the direction of the stream.”

  She typed out a message and sent it, not feeling very hopeful their plea would escape the earth’s underground trap. She mustered her courage and turned off the light on her phone. Despite the beam of sunshine in the distance, she felt as blind as John Corcoran.

  No. Blinder.

  She heard the crunch of his boots on some debris and moved after him in the darkness. She put her hands out before her. When she clutched his upper arm, he paused. She waited for a protest, but instead he continued his survey. Relief swept through her. He felt too strong, solid and real to let go of.

  “Isn’t it a little dangerous for you to live in these woods alone when you’re blind?” she asked delicately.

  “It’s a lot safer for me than for most sighted people who enter this forest,” he said. Jennifer blushed, although she suspected he hadn’t meant his comment to sting. It was just the truth. “Actually, I don’t live here full time. I spent my summers with my dad here as a kid. I inherited his cabin when he died. I’m here for a working vacation.”

  “Oh,” she said, absorbing the information. “Hey . . . I just thought of something,” she exclaimed, still holding on to his arm and following him.

  “Yeah?” he asked, sounding preoccupied.

  “Why don’t you try to lift me up to the hole? I might be able to climb out and go get help.”

  “We won’t be able to reach the ledge,” he said.

  “You’re very tall.”

  “We have to both be nearly ten feet tall to make it to the surface,” he replied drolly.

  “We could build up the ground beneath us with some of that tunnel debris.”

  “Not a bad idea. I considered it. But I don’t want to chance it. That pile is both tight and slippery. There’s a good chance if we start to move it, it could cause another landslide and one or both of us could be buried.”

  She sighed in disappointment. There had to be a solution they just weren’t considering.

  “John?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you searching for a passage out of here?”

  “No. There’s no way out of here except for straight up.”

  “How do you know for certain?”

  “Because if there was, our friend the squirrel would have found it.”

  “But the squirrel got in here,” she reasoned.

  “Yeah,” he said, turning when he’d completely circled the chamber. “And that mine collapsed after him.”

  Her heart sank. She trailed him back to the center of the cavern. She realized belatedly that he hadn’t been searching for an exit but was instead detailing the space, using his hands as she would her eyes. He ran his hand along the earthen floor, searching, bypassing his coat when he encountered it. A second later, he picked up something.

  “Oh,” Jennifer muttered when she saw a cane in his hand.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s a cane. I thought it was a rifle, up there in the woods.”

  He frowned.

  “It was an honest enough mistake. I was startled when you called out and didn’t have much time to study you. Aren’t blind people supposed to use white canes?”

  “I tend to do a lot of things blind people aren’t supposed to do.”

  “Obviously.” She studied him with growing interest and respect. He stretched his hand out toward the beam of sunlight, then plunked down on the ground beneath the column of light.

  “What do we do now?” Jennifer asked.

  “Nothing much to do but wait. I’m going to gather some of those loose pieces of wood on the ground over there for a fire in a bit, but you might as well enjoy the sunshine while we have it. It’s going to get chilly awful quick down here when the sun goes down.”

  She walked toward him, pausi
ng when she noticed his cane lying next to him. It was a unique cane—longer than most because of his height, made of wood wrapped tightly in black leather. The crook was exposed wood, however, smooth and worn from use. That was odd. Wouldn’t the handle be the obvious place to put the leather in order to cushion his hand?

  She swallowed thickly and transferred her gaze to his face, glad to have the opportunity to see him in full light.

  It took her a split second to realize she needn’t be sly about checking him out. She stepped closer and charted his face. His eyes were the clear sky blue of a summer day. Like his sensual mouth, they stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his rugged features.

  Suddenly he was staring directly at her and she glanced away. Why was she blushing? He couldn’t see. She knelt tenderly in preparation to sit, suppressing a groan when her hip hit the ground.

  “Come here,” he said.

  “Uh . . . what?” she asked, confused by his request. Had he somehow sensed her staring at him—admiring him?

  “Take off your jacket and come here.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to attack you. Your muscles got beat up on that fall. You got it worse than I did. You’re not going to be able to move tomorrow morning if we don’t do something to help you. Take off your jacket.”

  She did so reluctantly.

  He waggled his finger at her in a beckoning gesture. “The sun will keep the muscles good and warm. Now come here.”

  She scooted toward him. He circled his hand in the air. “Your back to me. I do a lot of massage and acupressure in my chiropractic practice. It’ll keep your muscles from seizing up.”

  She sat before him. He swung one leg around her so that her hips were just inches from his spread thighs. Ever so gently, he stroked her hair.

  Her heart stalled for a moment, but then she realized he was smoothing the strands over to one side so that they wouldn’t get caught in his massaging fingers. Was it her imagination, or did he linger at his task? How did her hair feel against his fingertips? She resisted an urge to touch it herself, strangely curious as to how he experienced her.