HIS TENDER TOUCH

by Sharon Mignerey

  She gave him a glassy smile and shrugged.

  "In your pocket?"

  "That's a good idea." Her hands were trembling so badly as she searched, Gray doubted she could have found a huge padlock in her pockets, much less a room key.

  He touched the pockets on her fanny, didn't feel any keys there, then searched through her front pockets.

  She shivered.

  Gray looked sharply at her. "It's just the adrenaline, Audrey." He called her by name with effort. Endearments he had never in his life used sprang to mind. Honey. Babe. Love.

  Tears appeared in her eyes, tears she must not have wanted, he thought, because she swiped angrily at them.

  "I hate feeling like this."

  "I know."

  Her face had about as much color as salt. He hated her expression right now—beaten, cornered, cowed. Like too many of the women he had encountered almost weekly on his beat. Like his mother and his two sisters-in-law. Women who were at the mercy of men bigger and stronger than they were.

  Gray found the key in one of the front pockets of her jeans, unlocked the door and swung it open. He pushed her into the room, then directed her into the chair by the window. Gray set the computer down on the table, then knelt in front of her.

  Her gaze held a hint of panic when it met his. He took both of her hands within his.

  "You're going to be okay," he murmured. "It's just the roller-coaster ride from the adrenaline. The rubbery legs, the tight feeling in your chest, the urge to cry."

  "For a sculptor, you know a lot about adrenaline."

  She still sounded drunk to him.

  "I wasn't always a sculptor," he said.

  "No?"

  "No."

  "What were you?"

  "A cop."

  "Oh." Her eyes widened, and he could see her pupils were dilated, even accounting for the dim light in the room.

  "Cop. Sculptor. Mechanic."

  "Jack-of-all-trades, all right. Are you gonna be okay for a minute, ba— Audrey? I want to get you a glass of water and some aspirin." He stood up.

  She reached out suddenly and clutched his hand. "Please," she whispered. She straightened and swallowed as though she realized she was begging. With effort, she stopped the trembling of her chin. She released his fingers and gripped her hands tightly together. "I'm fine."

  Gray knew she was anything but. "I'll be right back. I promise." He strode out of the room.

  Audrey Sussman was in a hell of a lot of trouble, he thought, inventorying what he had found wrong with her car. Someone had stripped the insulation off the wires leading to the distributor, which had shorted out when they got wet. By itself, he might have thought it was normal wear and tear. In combination with a slow leak on her radiator hose and the loose oil filter that she had told him about, he didn't think so.

  The repairs had been easy to make, and he'd given the rest of the engine a once-over, looking for anything else that could cause her problems. Someone hadn't wanted her to get here, someone who didn't particularly care if she had been stranded or not.

  Someone. Damned if he could think of anyone besides Richard who had a reason for wanting her gone.

  And now this dead animal. That was a hell of a lot more threatening. Not Richard's style, but certainly effective. Gray's hand clenched into a fist. The sooner he convinced Audrey to leave, the better.

  * * *

  Audrey sat straight in the chair after Gray left. She took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to empty her mind. She was stronger than this, for heaven's sake. It wasn't as though she hadn't seen dead animals before. But to deliberately put one in the trunk of her car… The act was calculated to frighten her.

  It succeeded.

  She wanted to run from here as fast as she could.

  She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes as though she could force away the images. This was worse than last night. This felt evil.

  "No." Unable to wait passively a moment longer, she lurched to her feet and ran from the room. Gray's room was, after all, only a few feet away.

  In the hallway, she collided with a large man. Even before she looked into his face, she knew he was not Gray.

  Hawk gripped her arms.

  "Let go of me!" Unreasonable panic rose in her. The final tenuous thread of her control broke. She struggled against him, pushing her hands against his chest, kicking at him. His grip on her arms, if anything, tightened.

  "For God's sake, what's the matter with you?"

  "Let me go. Please."

  "Take your hands off her," she heard Gray say. The grip on her arms loosened instantly. "Audrey?" Gray questioned. "What happened?" She turned to his concerned voice sure as a compass needle to magnetic north. His arms closed around her, and she burrowed against him.

  "What's going on?" Hawk demanded.

  "Somebody put a dead animal in the trunk of her car," Gray said, noting she looked even more frightened than she had when he left her.

  "No way."

  Gray shook his head.

  "I don't like this."

  "That makes two of us."

  "Need a hand with anything?"

  Gray tossed him the keys. "Do you mind cleaning up her trunk?"

  "No problem." Hawk cocked his head toward Audrey. "Is she leaving?"

  "Yeah." Gray stared at Hawk. He hadn't figured Hawk would be the type to mutilate an animal, either, but the man had made it plain from the first that he didn't want Audrey here.

  Absently running his hand in a soothing caress up and down her back, Gray watched Hawk walk away, wondering if trusting Hawk in this was a mistake. Audrey shuddered in his arms, and he glanced down at her.

  "Are you okay?" Gray asked.

  "I'm not," Audrey whispered. "Oh, God, I'm not."

  Remembered threats, whispering scary voices and the images of the dead creature became suddenly more vivid. Feeling her stomach churn, she broke away from Gray and ran toward the bathroom. Inside, she barely had time to kneel over the commode before she was violently ill.

  Moments later, Gray knocked on the door of the bathroom, then pushed it open. Audrey was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet. She obviously had been sick, and recalling the skinned, decapitated mess in her trunk, he couldn't blame her.

  He took a washcloth from the towel rack, wet it with cool water, then washed her face. He filled a cup with water, instructed her to rinse her mouth out and noticed she turned beet-red when she spit into the sink.

  He handed her mouthwash. Turning his back to her, he made a production out of folding up the washcloth while she finished rinsing her mouth. Then he handed her the aspirin he had gone to his room to retrieve.

  Gray's mind raced, assessing possibilities. The dead animal was meant to be a warning. But from whom? And more importantly, why? Despite Richard's threats, Gray couldn't imagine his doing anything like this. He would bet Hawk hadn't done this, either. If not Hawk or Richard, then who? Damn it, who?

  Gray squatted down next to her. "Audrey?"

  "What was it?" she asked.

  He didn't have to ask what it was.

  "It wasn't a cat, was it?"

  "No." He shook his head. Prairie dog, most likely, but he kept that to himself. Whatever it had been, she didn't need to know.

  "Promise?" She met his gaze, and he brushed her hair away from her face.

  "I'm sure." He cupped her cheek. "It wasn't somebody's pet."

  She nodded once, her eyes very bright. "This is stupid," she finally said. "I don't even know why Howard sent me down here. This whole thing is stupid. I have more important things to be doing, but instead, he yells and I trot down here. And for what?"

  "Going home may be the best thing."

  A long moment of silence passed. She finally nodded and lifted her gaze to his. "But I feel like I'm quitting."

  "You're being smart." Gray stood and offered his hand. Without a word, she came to him, placing her hand in his. The ease with which she trusted him hit him in the gut, and his f
ingers tightened reflexively around hers.

  Damn, but being trusted felt good. He glanced down at her, and as though she sensed his gaze, she looked up at him. Her eyes were still red and swollen from crying. Abruptly, another woman's face took the place of Audrey's. Instead of trust, hers was filled with a certain weariness and resignation. And fear. That most of all.

  With a silent oath, Gray reminded himself that trust was the last thing he had to offer a woman. The absolute dead last. Wake up and smell the roses, he told himself. She's not for you.

  Together they went back to Audrey's room, where Gray opened her suitcase and laid it across the bed. She began transferring clothes from the dresser drawer.

  "Threats in the middle of the night," she muttered. "Ghosts, legends, mutilated animals, and things that go bump in the night. Never mind they had a little help from modern technology. I feel like I'm losing my mind. Howard will think I'm off my rocker."

  "No, he won't," Gray assured her. "He'll think you're smart to leave."

  She gripped the sides of the suitcase, then glanced over her shoulder. "What about you?"

  "I think you're being smart," Gray replied evenly.

  "You told me not to trust you."

  His Adam's apple bobbed. "And you should not."

  "But I do." She straightened and moved toward him. "And I don't want to leave without—"

  Gray shook his head. "Don't say it. Please, don't say it." He wanted to reach for her, gather her close and assure her everything would be okay. The intensity of his need made him clench his fists.

  This went far beyond the need to enjoy her soft body and lose himself in the intense pleasure he would find there. Needing to touch her body, and heaven knew he wanted to, paled in comparison to claiming her as his.

  She was his. Perhaps even before he saw her for the first time last night, she was his.

  The realization scared the hell out of him.

  The need to protect competed with the need to possess. He knew the demons that waited if he chose possession, had seen firsthand those demons in his father and his brothers. Audrey deserved his protection, and by God, she would get it.

  She watched him with wide eyes as he moved away from her. He went to the closet and stripped a pair of slacks from a hanger, handing them to her. She folded them and laid them in the suitcase. Without talking, they packed the rest of her clothes and toiletries.

  With a last glance around the room, Audrey decided she had everything. She looked at Gray, who met her glance briefly before looking away. At last, here was a man who had felt so right. And she was positive that when she drove away from the ranch, she'd never see him again.

  His expression was hard as a granite mask as he glanced around the room. "Looks like you've got everything."

  "Yes," she said, her attention still on him. "I'm sorry," she added.

  "What the hell for?" His eyes glittered. "Don't ever say you're sorry when someone else—"

  "For the trouble I've put you to," she interrupted.

  "It's no trouble." Gray picked up the suitcase and computer and led the way down the hall.

  Carrying the smaller case, Audrey watched Gray's broad back. His posture was stiff, and he acted as though he couldn't wait to be rid of her. The thought she might never see him again tore at her. Why did this one man draw her so?

  Outside it was raining again, almost as hard as it had been last night when she arrived. Audrey glanced at her watch. It wasn't yet noon. Even so, she felt as though she had been here days instead of hours.

  "Wait here," Gray said at the door, grabbing the ever present rain poncho off the hook next to the door and pulling it over his head. Carrying her bags, he sprinted out to the car, which was mostly hidden by the adobe wall surrounding the courtyard. He disappeared a moment when he bent over. When he stood, Hawk stood with him, which startled Audrey. She had forgotten about Hawk. Gray unlocked her trunk and put the two cases inside. They huddled together, talking.

  She watched the two men a moment longer before deciding that she was being ridiculous to wait for Gray to come back. She stepped over the threshold and dashed through the rain to her car.

  Gray glanced up when he saw her coming. He was frowning, and an even deeper one marred his features as he watched her run toward him. He took the case from her and set it in the trunk as Hawk opened the door for her. Audrey slid in behind the wheel.

  "I'm sorry you're the one who found the animal," Hawk said. For the first time, his tone sounded something other than hostile. Not quite friendly, but not as if she were the enemy.

  Ignoring the rain, Gray squatted down next to her, his eyes level with hers, bracing himself between the seat and the open car door.

  "Are you going clear back to Denver tonight?" he asked.

  She hadn't thought about it. "I don't know."

  She had the urge to brush a wet lock of his hair away from his face, and to keep from touching him, she clasped her hands together in her lap.

  "When you get back to town, Audrey, call someone you trust and let them know where you are and where you're headed. Okay?"

  She swallowed. "I'm leaving. Isn't that enough? You don't have to keep scaring me like this."

  "I'm not trying to scare you," he responded, his voice once again gruff. "It's just sensible, all right?" Suddenly, he ducked his head and leaned inside. Audrey caught a whiff of the scent that was indefinably him, and her stomach lurched. He settled his mouth over hers in a warm kiss. "Be safe, Audrey Sussman," he whispered, then pressed the keys into her hands and straightened.

  He closed the door, and Audrey stared at him through the window. He lifted his hand in a brief salute, and she wrenched her gaze away and tried twice before she was able to stick the key in the ignition.

  She backed her car away from the parking area. After she had turned around, in her rearview mirror, she watched Gray run through the rain to join Hawk at the lodge entrance.

  She firmed her chin and drove away from Puma's Lair. Keen disappointment settled in her chest; she would never know where the pull of attraction might have led. They had been acquainted mere hours, after all.

  She had gone less than a mile when she met an oncoming car. Behind the wheel was Francie, who smiled and waved when she recognized Audrey. She brought her vehicle to a stop and rolled down her window.

  Following suit, Audrey added to her list of regrets, remembering Francie's invitation to dinner.

  "If I'd known you wanted to go to town," Francie said by way of greeting, "I would have offered to take you. The road is really treacherous."

  "I'm not on my way to town," Audrey responded. Between them, the rain began to fall harder, splashing through the open window into the car. "I'm leaving."

  Surprise chased across Francie's face. "Already?"

  She managed a smile. "Already. Can I take a rain check on that dinner invitation?"

  "But of course. I'll hold you to it." She smiled and began rolling up her window. "Take good care," she called.

  Audrey nodded, rolled up her own window and put the car back into gear. Although last night she had thought the two-mile-long road between Puma's Lair and the highway was treacherous, today it was even worse. Her progress was much slower now. Monster-size puddles filled the road, and she knew she would be in big trouble if any of them were as deep as she feared. The muddy road alternately grabbed and repelled the wheels, making her progress down the narrow track slow. The slipping and sliding made the drive seem endless.

  With the confusing events of the past day swirling through her mind, Audrey pressed a little harder on the accelerator. The rear of her car fishtailed, and with a muttered curse, she immediately let up on the gas. At this rate, she would be lucky to keep the car on the road.

  Mud splattered across the windshield, smearing into a film she could not see through when the blade wiped it aside. The next swipe didn't improve her visibility any, and Audrey stopped the car. The pouring rain and several more swipes cleared the mud away. Next to the road, a
few head of cattle huddled together.

  She stepped on the gas once again, and negotiated the twists and turns in the road with care. Finally, she rounded the last curve before the bridge. Water gushed over the bank a little above it, turning the field next to the road into a shallow pond.

  Audrey remembered thinking the bridge had looked none too sturdy last night. In daylight, the pair of logs with the boards attached looked even less substantial than they had in the dark. Only knowing that she had crossed the bridge last night reassured her she could safely cross again.

  Another splatter of mud covered the windshield. For an instant, she could see nothing, and she turned the windshield wipers to a faster speed. When she could see once again, an immense bull stood in the middle of the road a few feet in front of her.

  She slammed on the brakes.

  The car slid to the edge of the road where it came to a halt. Once more, mud obliterated her view. When she could see again, she watched the animal meander across the road as though it had all the time in the world.

  An immense crest of water surged over the bridge. Suddenly it gave way. Almost in slow motion, it turned over and floated down the river.

  Had she not swerved to avoid the bull, she would have been on the bridge. She cried out and gripped the steering wheel as though it were a lifeline.

  Between Audrey's car and the far bank, the creek swelled. A couple of logs floated by. She almost laughed. Floated was too tame a word. They charged down the river, carried on the back of the water, rolling and twisting, like monstrous snapping beasts.

  "Oh, God," she breathed as realization poured through her. She could have washed downstream, too.

  She hated the idea of going back to Puma's Lair, but there was no choice now. So far as she knew, this was the only road in and out of the ranch. She put the car into reverse, and stepped on the gas.

  The wheels spun, but the car didn't move. She put the car into low gear, but the wheels spun in that direction, as well. She rocked the vehicle, hoping to ease it out of the mud.

  Outside, the rain still fell in torrents, and she knew this time she had no choice but to wait until the rain stopped. The walk back to the ranch was a couple of miles, which was going to be miserable in the mud, downright foolish in the rain.