by Jane Toombs
“If you ever feel you want me to tell you more about Kim’s last few hours,” she said, “I will.”
“Not at the moment.”
From the tone of his voice, she was surprised he hadn’t added Period. Sooner or later, she knew he’d ask, though. Survivors almost always did.
Look, she warned herself, don’t get caught in the offering-comfort trap. He’s enough of a hunk so it could turn physical, and that’s the last thing you need from this guy. You’re the baby’s nurse, not his. Reserve your nurturing for Heidi while enjoying the mountain air and scenery, but leave the father alone.
Steve had kept his cabin to himself for so long that he felt uneasy bringing another person into his hideaway. Two, if he counted the baby. Fortunately she was too little to be aware of her surroundings. Victoria, though, was an adult. And too damn appealing for her own good. Or his.
He hadn’t been this kind of aware of a woman for a long time. She set him on edge, wanting to touch her and knowing anything like that was out.
Bad enough he’d been forced to allow her into his secret sanctuary. He’d never brought anyone here before; no one knew about the cabin. He’d never told Kim—or anyone. Even the agency. If no one knew, then it was his safe place, his and his alone. But now Victoria would know.
Should he have thought twice? He shook his head. Kim’s baby had to be kept away from Malengo until he knew all there was to know about Kim’s death. Taking Heidi to his sister m Nevada had crossed his mind, but it wouldn’t be fair to involve Karen and her family in a situation that could prove to be dangerous. He could be traced to Nevada.
There was no danger here for anyone. The innocent baby and Victoria, the innocent bystander, were perfectly safe. He’d made certain he hadn’t been followed here; no one could discover his whereabouts during the time the agency worked on the case.
“I noticed you unpacked Kim’s belongings before we left,” Victoria said. “I think you should know that some of her clothes weren’t salvageable.”
He nodded. He’d found nothing relating to Malengo among her things and thought it was unlikely there’d been anything in the clothes the hospital had disposed of. Whatever Kim’s intent had been, her reason for fleeing from Malengo remained a mystery. For now.
“How long do you plan to stay in the mountains?” Victoria asked.
Since he could hardly tell her until it was safe to leave, he said, “A week, two, possibly a month.”
He wondered what her reaction would have been if he’d said, “As long as I can keep my hands off you.”
She bore no resemblance to Kim, even though they were both redheads. Kim had always tried for a certain edgy elegance, Victoria was casual. Easy to be with, for all her bluntness.
When the shock of the divorce had worn off, he’d realized life was more comfortable without Kim around and that his distress was more due to the marriage failing than to his missing Kim. He didn’t accept failure in himself and only reluctantly in others.
Kim had never understood he had the kind of job in which he absolutely couldn’t talk about his work. She’d complained that he didn’t talk about anything else, either—which might have been true, especially since they didn’t share many interests.
Driving up here, Victoria had gone to sleep rather than starting meaningless conversations. Which suited him just fine. There was no need for them to try to get to know one another. Wiser not to be friendly. Neutral was the best choice.
If only she wasn’t so damn good to look at. It was like having his favorite raspberry pie in front of him and trying to convince himself he wasn’t hungry.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, this time at the baby instead of watching for any following car. None were; he’d made certain of that. Heidi’s arms waved in the air as she made unintelligible sounds. He realized he had no idea when babies began to say actual words.
Was she able to recognize Victoria? Or was her caretaker just a meaningless face? Not that it made any difference—he was merely curious.
“Do you think she knows you?” he asked.
“Heidi? Yes, she probably knows my voice and my face by now. Infants pick up on this very early. I’m not so sure she’s aware of you yet, though.”
For some inexplicable reason, this bothered him. He had no intention of getting attached to Kim’s baby, so why did he care? “Because I’m a man?” he asked.
“Not at all. If you’d taken care of Heidi from the beginning, she’d know your face and voice. As soon as you begin to talk to her and hold her, you’ll be familiar to her, too. You’re her father. She needs to get to know you.”
Impossible to explain to Victoria. The truth wasn’t his to give away. Secrets within secrets had been his way of life for so long, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to speak the truth without caring who heard.
He rounded the last curve and the cabin came into sight. Its rustic exterior, dark wood that blended into the surroundings, never failed to soothe and relax him. It was one story, though the sharply peaked mountain roof had made possible a sleeping loft reached by a spiral staircase.
Since there was a bedroom downstairs he’d never used the loft. Now he’d be sleeping up there.
“Perfect!” Victoria exclaimed. “Your cabin looks as though it grew here.”
He grinned at her, pleased by her perceptive remark.
She smiled back, her green-gold eyes sparkling, looking as enticing as the most delicious raspberry pie in existence. Damn, but he was hungry.
“I can’t wait to see the inside,” she told him as he pulled the van into the attached carport he’d built himself last year.
He’d grown accustomed to thinking about the baby first and so, while Victoria held her, he unhooked the carrier and brought it into the cabin, setting it in the center of the pine table.
Victoria, following him with Heidi, zeroed in on the maple cradle by the fireplace and set it to rocking gently with her foot. “A high cradle,” she said. “I didn’t realize they made them in the old days—charming and practical. If you’ll bring in what we bought in Aylestown first, I’ll fix up the cradle for her—after I wash it.”
By the time he’d hauled in all the supplies, Victoria had settled Heidi into the cradle, where she looked to be right at home amidst the colorful new bedding. He had a strange feeling he’d never be able to see the cradle again without picturing this baby in it.
“You have mice,” Victoria announced.
“The curse of unoccupied wilderness cabins,” he acknowledged, pleased she took the news so calmly. “I came prepared.”
She nodded and continued washing down the shelves of the small pantry, adding, “I can see the reason for all these lidded metal containers. Miceproof.”
Dusk had begun to settle in around the cabin, so he prepared and lit the kerosene lamps, then started a fire in the woodstove. Since the cabin’s main room was open—kitchen, dining and living space in one—the stove would offer sufficient heat for the cool night to come.
“What runs the refrigerator?” Victoria asked. “I see it’s working.”
“Butane.”
She nodded. “You put my things in the bedroom down here so I assume that’s where I’m to sleep.”
“I’ll be up in the loft,” he assured her.
Her glance told him she’d assumed that. “I’ve cleaned my bed and put new sheets on,” she went on, “but the loft’s up to you. I’d like you to help me move the cradle near my open door because as soon as Heidi’s asleep I’m going to crash.”
Once she was in bed, he’d have to go past that open door to get to the only bathroom, situated next to the kitchen because the plumber had decided that was the best solution for the pipes.
Go past the open door, not enter.
“Is it safe to leave these lit all night?” Victoria asked, gesturing at the kerosene lamps.
“I don’t.” He reached into the pantry where the extra flashlights were stored and handed her one. “Use this if you need to g
et up while it’s dark.”
“Like camp used to be,” she said with a smile. “I feel like a ten-year-old kid again.”
You sure as hell aren’t built like a ten-year-old, he was tempted to say as his traitorous mind flashed a mental picture of Victoria as he’d seen her m her sleep-T. Down, Henderson, he warned himself. She’s off-limits.
Victoria thought she’d sink into sleep as quickly as she had the previous night but it eluded her. Maybe all those catnaps in the car hadn’t been such a good idea. She lay listening to Steve moving around in the outer room, then heard him climb the stairs.
When she began to imagine him stripping and pulling those disreputable pajama bottoms over his nakedness, she stopped short. None of that. As a nurse she’d seen more naked men than she cared to count. This one couldn’t be much different, so why was she getting herself in a tizzy over him?
So, okay, they were together in a romantic mountain cabin—alone, if she didn’t count the baby. But a newborn wasn’t old enough to be any deterrent to two adults. Consenting adults? She shook her head. Hadn’t they agreed, at her insistence, there’d be no sex?
If they hadn’t, would she want to make love with Steve? Victoria sighed. To be honest, yes and no. She found him sexy despite her reservations about his personality, but even if she were totally wacko over him, which she wasn’t, there was no way she intended to get involved with a man still nursing his grief for his dead wife. Bad idea.
Besides, she didn’t know him well enough.
Relax, girl, and enjoy your paid mountain vacation, she told herself. He doesn’t expect anything for his money except good care for his daughter, and that is damn well all you’re going to offer.
The next morning, once she’d eaten and Heidi had been taken care of, her fascination with the mountains drove her outside. The crunch of an ax biting into wood led her around to the back where Steve was chopping a dead tree into stove-length chunks.
His shirt hung on the branch of a sapling and his naked chest gleamed with sweat. A lock of fair hair hung distractingly over his forehead. Old, well-fitting jeans completed the picture of a wilderness he-man. A gorgeous one. Any woman would react, she consoled herself when she felt her pulse speed up.
“Heidi’s asleep,” she told him. “I’m going to take a short walk. Don’t worry, I’ll stick to the trail like a good camper so I won’t get lost.”
Steve rested the ax head on a log and brushed back the errant strands of hair. “What if she wakes up and cries while you’re gone?”
“I won’t be long. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt a baby to exercise her lungs now and then. If you want to, you could pick her up. Babies like to be held.”
He shook his head. “She doesn’t know me well enough.”
“I’ll introduce you when I get back.” Victoria’s voice was tinged with laughter. The mountain man was afraid of a seven-pound infant.
She set off on a trail leading away from the front of the cabin, enchanted by the woodsy scents, the pine needles underfoot and the relative quiet. Soon the muted chop of the ax faded and the only sounds were the occasional cry of a blue jay and the scuffle of her footsteps through the dried needles.
After a time, she caught a flash of red to her right and stopped, staring in delight as a fox slipped through the underbrush and disappeared. His passage flushed a large bird from hiding. A partridge of some kind? She stepped off the trail for a better look at it.
The next she knew she was falling, Her surprised scream was cut off abruptly when she thumped down hard on a rocky ledge. After she caught her breath, she tried to sit up and take stock, only to gasp at the sudden shock of pain in her left shoulder. It hurt so much, she was gripped by a wave of dizziness that forced her to lay back and close her eyes.
After the pain subsided enough so she could think, she cautiously opened her eyes and found herself looking into the wrinkled brown face of a dark-eyed woman.
“Don’t fash yourself none, girl,” the woman said. “I’m here to help. Where’re you hurt?”
“My left shoulder,” Victoria told her.
“Broke, maybe?”
Victoria ran her right hand carefully over the injured shoulder. “I don’t think so.”
“Good. I’ll just give you a hand up, then.”
Belatedly it dawned on Victoria who the woman must be. “Are you Ms. Hawkins?” she asked.
“Plain Willa’ll do.” The old woman reached a hand down to her.
Moments later, a shaken Victoria stood beside Willa on the trail, supporting her left arm with her right one because the shoulder didn’t hurt as much that way.
“Wrenched it pretty bad, did you?” Willa asked.
Victoria nodded. “I shouldn’t have left the trail without taking more care.”
“I figure the secret man brought you up here with him, something he never did before. Must be you’re special.”
The name fit the man perfectly. “If you mean Steve Henderson, I’m taking care of his baby. My name’s Victoria Reynaud.”
“That’s who I mean. Keeps to himself. Baby, huh? Never knew he so much as had a wife.”
“She died.”
Willa shook her head. “Here I stand blathering away while you’re hurting. Come on, I’ll fix you up best I can.” The old woman started off in the opposite direction from the cabin.
“Wait,” Victoria called.
“My place is closer’n his,” Willa told her.
After a brief hesitation, Victoria followed her, figuring Willa probably knew as much or more about first aid as Steve. Not that anything would help a whole lot—the injured shoulder would have to heal by itself. What a stupid thing to do, she thought.
Willa’s cabin was smaller and looked a good deal more weather-beaten than Steve’s. Several outbuildings flanked it, and a tiny garden, surrounded by a fence, flourished in a space cleared of trees.
Once inside, a variety of sharp, distinct odors assaulted Victoria. She traced them to what she recognized as drying herbs hung from lines running across the main room of the cabin.
Willa gestured her toward a tall stool and began rummaging in a cupboard. “Here ’tis,” she said at last. “Thought I had some left.”
She crossed to Victoria, a white jar in hand. Taking off the lid, she set jar and lid on the counter, then very gently pushed up the sleeve of Victoria’s T-shirt and examined her left shoulder.
“Like you thought, not broke,” she said. ‘“Tisn’t cut open, but bruised some. My ointment’ll help with that ’n’ ought to lessen the pain. Make it myself. Some folks set such store by it, they climb clear up the mountain from Hanksville to buy the salve from me.”
Whatever was in it couldn’t hurt her, Victoria decided, and allowed Willa to smear the brownish ointment onto her shoulder, appreciating the cool feel and the gentleness of the old woman’s hands.
When she finished, Willa fetched a length of cloth from a drawer and fashioned a sling to support Victoria’s left arm.
“That ought to do it,” she announced. “Feeling better, are you?”
Victoria nodded. “Thanks for your help. A paramedic couldn’t have done any more than you have.”
Willa grinned, revealing several gold teeth. “My people were healers. ’Tis in the blood. Want me to walk you back to your cabin?”
“I think I can make it okay. It was really lucky for me you happened along when you did.”
“Wind blows this way, carries sounds. I was out picking simples ‘n’ heard that screech you let out when you fell.”
As Victoria slid off the stool, from nowhere, a huge gray cat appeared and sniffed at her ankles. “We could use you to scare the mice away,” she told the cat.
“Can’t give up Tansy Ann,” Willa said. “You’re welcome to her kit, though. Only one this time. She’s getting old, like me.”
“Well, thanks, but I don’t know how—”
“Don’t you worry none about Mr. Henderson. I’ll come by to see how you’re doing ‘n’ bring
the kit then. ’Tis a tom, name of Bevins.”
Deciding to let Steve deal with Willa, Victoria didn’t argue.
Treading carefully along the trail leading back to Steve’s cabin, Victoria told herself her fall had not only been stupid but unnecessary. She’d meant to keep to the trail and certainly should have. There was no excuse for being careless. Now her sore shoulder was sure to hamper her care of Heidi.
What would Steve say? Nothing complimentary, she knew.
But she wasn’t Heidi’s mother, she never would be. The tears she’d successfully blocked before filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
Chapter Four
Victoria heard Heidi’s wails before she came in sight of the cabin. She hurried her pace, but having one arm in a sling disturbed her balance enough so she didn’t dare risk running. The last thing she needed was another fall.
Steve met her at the open cabin door. “What the hell happened to you?” he demanded., eyeing the sling.
Brushing past him, she tossed, “I fell,” over her shoulder. In the cradle a red-faced Heidi cried furiously. The smell in the immediate vicinity told Victoria why.
“She needs her diaper changed,” she told Steve who was hovering over them both.
He sniffed the air and grimaced. “Is that all?”
“You’d complain about it, too, if you were a baby. In fact, you probably did.”
Feeling it was risky to try to pick the baby up one-handed, Victoria slipped her left arm from the sling and started to lift Heidi. Pain shot through her shoulder, making her groan involuntarily and abort the attempt.
“What’s the matter?” Steve asked as she eased her arm back into the sling.
“I can’t lift her. It hurts too much. You’ll have to pick her up for me.”
“Me?” Steve’s aghast look would have amused her if her shoulder wasn’t throbbing so painfully.
“You.” Pain sharpened her voice. “You’re her father, aren’t you? It’s simple. Slide one arm under her to support her head—newborns don’t have any strength in their neck muscles—and lift her up, cuddling her against your body. I’ve heard some men compare it to holding a football.”