Shadows and Ruins

by Denise A. Agnew

  Shane's gaze swept her thoroughly as he passed her a long, man-sized navy robe.

  Then he took note of the clothes she'd handed him and his touch lingered on the red,

  lacy bra and matching panties. He rubbed one of the satin bra cups between his fingers.

  Emma could feel that caress in her own body and she imagined his fingers on her

  breasts, caressing her nipples. The vivid fantasy sent renewed sensual shock through

  her.

  "Red lace," he said huskily. "I never would have guessed. I imagined you in plain

  white cotton. Very utilitarian."

  She'd never been bold in her life, at least not as outspoken as she felt around this

  man. His outrageous statement spurred her to speak. "You imagined my underwear,

  Shane?"

  He leaned against the doorjamb. His gaze danced over her with slow, intimate

  precision. "Yeah. More than once."

  Okay, he wanted to intimidate her with his constant innuendo. Two could play at

  this game. "Why?"

  He snorted a laugh. "I'm a man. You're a beautiful woman. It's natural."

  Beautiful? Not only had she never considered herself beautiful in a million years,

  but no man had ever called her that. Temporarily stunned, she swallowed hard.

  She made a quick decision. If he was playing games with her and trying to

  disconcert her so much she'd run from the excavation without looking back, she had a

  surprise for him. She smiled. "You sure know how to insult a woman."

  His dark brows lowered. "Insult? I just told you that you're beautiful. How is that

  an insult?"

  "Oh, not that. The fact you thought I'd wear white underwear."

  He grunted. "Isn't that just like a woman? Outraged that I'd imagine her underwear

  in the first place, then insulted because I imagined the color the wrong shade."

  She kept her expression nonchalant. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been

  as confused about her feelings for a man. Especially when he watched her like…that.

  With a simmering audacity that did funny things to her breath and weakened her

  resolve.

  "I'll go make some coffee," he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

  She nodded and closed the door, feeling naked and vulnerable. Once she'd bundled

  into the heavy terry robe, she felt more secure. Shane's manly scent lingered on the

  robe. The softness against her skin, plus the scent, about drove her nuts.

  She came out of the bedroom in time to hear him talking in low tones on a cell

  phone. He stood in the living room close to the end of the hall. She halted.

  "I don't like the way this is going any better than you, Dorky. Wilder was out of

  control."

  Dorky? What kind of name was that? A woman's at the very least. Deep suspicion rose

  within her, and with it a kernel of fear took root and grew.

  "No," he said. "Charlie started growling right before the rain came but it sure as

  hell wasn't the storm she was growling at."

  Emma almost confronted him right then but decided to wait and see if the

  conversation became more specific.

  "No. She doesn't know anything. And she isn't going to find anything out as long

  as we do this right. I'm beginning to think she is clueless about what's really happening.

  Look, I'd like to talk about this but she's in the house. Can I call you later?"

  Afraid he'd find her skulking in the hall, she darted back to his room and closed the

  door softly. She was about to open the door again, this time much louder, when a

  photograph on his dresser caught her attention. She walked over and lifted the black

  and white photo. Surrounded by a heavy, dark wood frame, the eight-by-ten showed a

  young woman with dark hair and a round face sitting in a chair cradling a baby in her

  arms. Behind the woman was a handsome man in a suit and tie, his short dark hair

  neat. His hands clasped the young woman's shoulders, his expression proud and aloof.

  Shane's parents?

  The man's resemblance to Shane couldn't be denied, but she saw something cold

  and unfeeling in the man's eyes. Shane's attempts with her to come off as cool and

  distant often faltered. She'd seen a multitude of emotions cross his face. Anger.

  Exasperation. Concern. Maybe even gentleness. Most definitely passion and desire.

  The bedroom door opened and she jerked in surprise as she hastily put down the

  photograph. It tipped and fell over, and Emma gasped, horrified that she might have

  broken the frame. She quickly righted the photograph and saw it was unharmed.

  "What do you think you are doing?" Shane asked, his gaze raking over her as he

  walked into the bedroom.

  "I'm sorry. I saw this photo and—"

  "Thought you'd be nosy?"

  He'd caught her red-handed, but a perversity within her wouldn't allow her to

  admit fault. "It's a beautiful photo. Who are they?"

  He picked up the photograph, irritation reflected in the stiffness of his face and

  body. "My parents. And me."

  "You look like a very happy family."

  He snorted in derision. "Look is the operative word. Don't believe everything you

  see."

  "You weren't happy?"

  "Maybe we were. Once."

  Moved by the tumult behind his carefully controlled words, she gave in to the

  temptation to discover more. "But not always."

  He shrugged and started toward the bedroom door. "What family is?"

  His words caught Emma in the solar plexus. What family is? She'd fooled herself for

  years thinking her family life could be called idyllic. A warm, happy place she could

  retreat to from outside worries. Maybe that was what hurt the most. Realizing that just

  because she pretended her family was happy didn't make it so. A fantasy was a fantasy.

  "Families are complicated," she said softly. "Sometimes, like you say, they look

  carefree on the outside, but on the inside they harbor hate and mistrust."

  He turned back to her, his hand resting on the doorknob. He smiled, his grin more

  sardonic than an expression of mirth. "What do you know about it?"

  The clipped, sharp words hurt but she resisted the urge to snap back. She wanted to

  tell him about Doug, about his death. She wanted to explain that she knew about pain

  within a family more than he'd ever comprehend. But his unbendable stance and the

  tension humming from him unnerved her. Would he move toward her or away from

  her? Toward her was definitely scary. More so because she realized she wanted him to

  touch her again. Wanted his arms around her again, his lips on hers.

  God, this is absurd.

  As tempting as having his arms around her sounded, she had to remember that

  Shane held too many secrets. She wouldn't give up her private life to a man who held

  back from her and might plan something nefarious.

  "I heard you talking on the phone just now," she said. "I take it the conversation

  pertained to me?"

  His face hardened, but she saw uncertainty flicker in his eyes. "I was talking to my

  uncle."

  Right. So he was willing to lie to her.

  "I think I'd better leave," she said.

  "Your clothes aren't even dry. Where do you think you're going?"

  She walked toward him and hoped he'd move away from the door. "Anywhere I

  damn well please."

  He didn't. "Not in this storm. I listened to the radio a moment ago and they predict

/>   it'll get worse before it gets better. Power and phone lines are down in several areas."

  "The rain has almost stopped."

  He crossed his arms. "I'm not letting you leave here until it's safe. The arroyos in

  the area fill with water, and the dirt roads are often deep with mud."

  "I can go back to the hotel."

  His gaze narrowed. "You're jumpy as hell. What's the matter?"

  Emma looked around the room, cataloging possible routes of escape. "Nothing is

  wrong." She sidestepped him and went for the bedroom door. "The rain is letting up. I

  need to get back to the site and see if it's been damaged."

  "Emma—" He caught up to her in the hall and grabbed her arm.

  Instinctively she jerked back and Shane released her. "Don't touch me."

  His eyes hardened. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  "Just give me my clothes, and I'll be out of your way."

  "I told you, they're in the dryer. I put your jeans and shirt in first." He leaned

  against the wall next to the kitchen door. "I almost put your tamale red underwear in

  with them until I realized they might shrink."

  Her mouth popped open but she said nothing. What could she say to a provocative

  comment like that? She cleared her throat. "Don't try to argue me out of this. I need to

  check on the site. The way rain was coming down earlier it probably weighted down

  the tarp and the rocks may not have held. For all I know the whole pit might be washed

  out."

  He threw his hands up in the air. "And what if it is? What are you going to do? You

  can't repair it while it's still raining."

  Emma didn't give a rat's ass about logic. She wanted out of his house. At that

  moment, a knock sounded on the door.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Shane glanced out the window and gritted his teeth. A police car sat in his

  driveway.

  "I'll get my clothes," Emma said, quickly heading for the utility room.

  Another knock sounded on the door and Shane went to answer. Standing outside

  the front door was tall, pipe cleaner-thin Officer Hank Reddins. Shane's stomach felt

  like a rock had settled into it. Shane respected the police chief of Gambit Creek, but his

  discussions with Reddins always seemed unfriendly. The man had a serious attitude

  problem.

  Reddins reached for his brown hat and took it off.

  "Reddins," Shane said. "Don't tell me what you're here for because I can already

  guess."

  The officer's frown created deep furrows next to his small mouth. "I got a complaint

  from Grant Wilder. Says you punched him and that Charlie attacked him."

  Shane let Reddins come inside the house. "Yeah, I punched him. And Charlie

  grabbed his pants leg."

  Reddins gestured toward the window. "Who owns that Explorer?"

  Shane shut the door. "Emma Baker. Wilder's partner."

  The officer's expression sharpened. "What on earth is she doing here?"

  "We got soaked out at the site and came here to dry off."

  Shane thought Reddins' eyes reflected skepticism and he wondered if the scarecrow

  of a man would start rumors back in town. Like any small town, Gambit Creek had its

  share of gossips. He almost laughed. They'd proved time and again how much they

  enjoyed making up crap about him. While that didn't bother him, he didn't want Emma

  dragged into controversy.

  "Tell me what happened at the excavation." Officer Reddins sank into a chair by the

  fireplace. "Don't leave anything out."

  Shane dropped into a leather recliner and gave him the details. Reddins took

  methodical notes, stopping to ask more questions and to have him repeat certain parts.

  Shane reiterated the part where he punched Grant and Charlie had jumped into the

  fight, when Emma appeared from the hall dressed in her dry jeans and shirt. Her hair

  lay in damp waves over her shoulders.

  "Emma, this is Officer Hank Reddins. Wilder did as he promised."

  Officer Reddins stood and shook hands with her. "Miss Baker, I'd like to speak with

  you alone about the incident."

  Shane slipped out of the chair and started for the back of the house. "Don't let me

  stop you. I'll be outside."

  Emma noted the tight set to Shane's mouth as he left and the crusty demeanor of

  the cop. With trepidation she sat on one of the leather sofas. This was turning out to be

  a weird day all the way around. Reddins requisitioned a rocker. He shifted his hat in his

  hands then used his knee as a hat rack. His thin, stringy brown hair defied gravity. He

  reached up and pushed the recalcitrant hair back into place.

  "Miss Baker—"

  "Emma, please."

  "Emma." He smiled, the movement cracking his face into an unattractive mass of

  wrinkles. "Can you explain what happened at the site today?"

  She related the incident at the site, and when she finished he gazed into the distance

  and rubbed his chin for several moments before he spoke. "Mr. Wilder says that

  O'Donnell pushed him."

  Emma wished she could clench her hands around Grant's neck for making an

  international incident out of the fight. "Only after Grant shoved him twice in the chest

  and after Grant accidentally pushed me onto the ground."

  The police officer frowned and leaned forward in the chair. "O'Donnell claims Mr.

  Wilder deliberately pushed you."

  She shook her head vehemently and shifted on her seat. "In my opinion, both men

  overreacted. Rather than dealing with Shane in a reasonable manner, Grant was hostile.

  So…when Grant pushed me down, Shane thought Grant had done it on purpose."

  "Wilder said he pushed you out of the way because he thought O'Donnell was

  coming after you."

  Angry heat climbed up the back of her neck. Oh, Grant. What do you think you're

  doing? "That's ridiculous. I came up behind Grant and grabbed his arm to pull him

  back. I was trying to stop him from antagonizing Shane."

  Reddins looked away as if pondering the difference in perceptions. "O'Donnell said

  you came back to the ranch house with him to dry off after the rain."

  Wary, Emma wondered where the man intended to head with his questioning.

  "Yes."

  "Mr. Wilder's worried for your safety. He was pretty convincing when I spoke with

  him."

  Shane might be hiding something from her about the site, but she didn't believe

  he'd harm her physically. Not after the way he'd reacted to Grant pushing her down.

  She leaned forward. "There's nothing for Grant to worry about."

  "I'd be a little more cautious about going somewhere with strange men."

  "But Shane's not a stranger. I mean…"

  When she faded off, Reddins smiled. She saw keen disbelief reach his eyes. "I've

  seen too many women stumble into tight spots because they didn't take steps to protect

  themselves. Tends to make me sensitive to the issue. I'd remain cautious around here.

  We may live out in the country but that doesn't mean there aren't dangers."

  The officer's intensity piqued her interest. "Are you trying to tell me something

  about Shane?"

  "He's a strange bird. Some people around here think he's hiding something up here

  on the ranch. Maybe Sadie Cutley's treasure."

  Emma wondered if Shane did know something more about Sadie Cutley's treasure.

  It would explain the reason why he wanted
her off his land so quickly. Then again, if

  he'd already found the treasure, she doubted it would still be anywhere near the dig. So

  why would he worry about her excavation?

  She jumped into the fray without thinking. "I heard that he threatened some

  Chester College students with a rifle when they went to ask him about the possibility of

  excavation."

  He pursed his lips slightly. "I don't know how much of it's truth or fiction. I wasn't

  here at the time. But it wouldn't surprise me."

  "Is there any way I could find out if it's true?"

  "You could ask the police chief, but I wouldn't recommend it. I'm not sure if the

  chief would appreciate it, and if Shane found out he could make things difficult for

  you."

  "God, I hope not."

  Her deadpan smile didn't produce an answering grin from Reddins. "I wouldn't

  advise riling the man. You never know what he might do."

  Despite Reddins' unrelenting skepticism, she couldn't imagine Shane anything

  more than arrogant and pushy. But dangerous? She reassessed her opinion of Shane yet

  again. After that revealing conversation and his reluctance to let her go, she had felt

  edgy around him. Confusion warred in her mind with a desire to defend Shane.

  Reddins leaned back in the chair and rocked gently. "So you don't wish to press

  charges against Mr. Wilder for pushing you down?"

  "Of course not. It was all a misunderstanding. Shane gave us an ultimatum of one

  week to finish the excavation. That's what is causing all this friction in the first place.

  Grant lost his cool."

  "I'll talk to Mr. Wilder again and see if he honestly wants to pursue these charges."

  "Shane shouldn't be punished for what happened. I'll talk to Grant too. I might be

  able to get him to back off."

  Reddins stood up. "I don't know. He was pretty riled when he came into the

  station." He started to head for the front door then he turned around to look at her, his

  small eyes serious. "I'd keep clear of O'Donnell."

  As she let him out the front door, she wondered if she was crazy for staying there a

  moment longer. When the police cruiser pulled out of the driveway, she made a break

  for it before Shane came back inside. She hastily scribbled Shane a note thanking him