“Burke here. I have a lead. Pennsylvania.”
After hanging up, he thumbed through the file Rivera’s people had sent him. Most of this he’d already seen. The transcripts from Rivera’s trial were nothing to him. Water under the bridge. Caroline hadn’t even been there. The list of all her old contacts was useless as well. She’d cut her ties with all of these people in her naive notion that she could stay safe as long as she stayed hidden. Her hospital records? He’d already memorized the nature, seriousness and location of the injuries she had sustained from the attack by Rivera’s men.
Burke curled his lip. Where was the art in bludgeoning someone to death? The fools Rivera had sent after Caroline had no feeling for sportsmanship. They had no reverence for life. The sanctity of the kill was squandered on them. To make their failure worse, they’d concocted a lie about some kind of demon who’d chased them away from the scene before they’d finished with Caroline.
Fear was the real weapon. Fear was foreplay. His bullet was just the parting kiss.
But it would take a great deal to make Caroline afraid. He pulled his photograph of her out of the pile of papers on the table and studied her pretty, trusting face. He’d flushed her out of her hiding places again and again, but this time he wanted her to stand her ground and meet him on her own terms.
When her Adonis finally discovered his appetite, he gave new meaning to the idea of being eaten out of house and home. Meical left no survivors in her fridge or pantry. For some reason he found the box of Count Chocula cereal especially funny.
For as long as she lived, Caroline would never forget the sight of Ray perched on Meical’s shoulders, hysterical with laughter, waiting to see what Meical would eat next. Meical was still scavenging when John left.
She drew the line at asparagus and jelly sandwiches.
“Meical, stop now unless you want it all to come back up again,” she cautioned, trying to drag him out of her kitchen nook, with Ray bobbing on his shoulders like a parrot. “Come on. You can walk it all off on the way to the Hickses’ place.”
Meical relinquished the asparagus and set Ray on his feet.
The boy grinned up at him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Grabian, there’s more food at our house.”
While Sandy helped Ray into his coat, Caroline strapped on her ski boot and got her slalom out of the closet. She felt Meical watching her. The man made her feel like a magnet this morning, with everything in him pouring out, rushing in her direction. After the dream she’d had about him last night, it wasn’t exactly smart to indulge herself, but she loved the feel of his vibrations. He felt just like a Jacuzzi.
They left her cabin and trudged through the snow along the path that led to the Hickses’ trailer. Caroline appreciated the fact that Meical didn’t hang back and try to help her along on her slalom. He seemed to know she didn’t need that or want that kind of help from him. So what did she want from him? More than she dared to consider, with a psychopath on her trail and a dismal future on the run.
As she scooted along on her slalom behind the three of them, with Dash running circles around them all, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She admired his interaction with Ray—along with the graceful way he maneuvered through trees and snow. And his fine set of shoulders. And his articulated derriere. And the deep, gravelly sound of his voice. And his—
He stopped short as though she’d just spoken to him and turned to smile at her. He looked as though he’d just won the lottery. What was that about?
Caroline coasted down a little dip in the path, breathing in the morning air and the jubilance of the children. Maybe this whole arrangement of counseling Meical was going to be as good for her as it was for him. As long as she kept it quiet and didn’t draw attention to herself, no problem.
She came to a sliding stop beside Meical and only vaguely noticed that the children had run on ahead with Dash, because the gleam in Meical’s eyes was just about all she could take in at the moment. He had looked at her like that last night in her dream.
She felt a hot blush coming on and turned her head away to look up at the trees and the crystalline blue of the cloudless sky.
Pushing past him, she dug her poles in and shoved herself along. She was way too in tune with him this morning. She needed to pull in a little, put the brakes on. She could actually feel him looking her over, knew exactly where his gaze was wandering…a slow, meticulous and deliciously lusty gaze.
She smiled. Guess it was his turn to eyeball her.
But where was it headed, all this checking each other out? She didn’t have the wherewithal for a relationship. She couldn’t begin to contemplate intimacy. And even if she could, it would be the most stupid mistake she could make right now. It could get Meical killed if Burke found her again. And he would.
Well, why shouldn’t she just enjoy the moment? She swallowed hard, feeling Meical’s gaze linger on her behind. The wave of desire that emanated from him made her feel weak in the knee.
Time for some conversation. Definitely. “Hey, Meical, has anyone ever told you that you have a way with kids?”
He laughed. “Not once.”
“Well, you do. I’m not a bit surprised at how Ray is opening up to you. He sees you as a safety zone.”
Meical was quiet for a moment. Caroline listened with her whole being. But a door closed between them. He could be so silent, and not just on the inside. The whole time they’d been walking, she hadn’t heard him as much as snap a twig underfoot.
“Does he really?” Meical asked.
The door opened a bit, and a pall of darkness slipped out of him to nip at her heels. Darkness. Sadness. Loss.
“Yes, and why shouldn’t he? You’re big and strong, you exude a reassuring sense of being in control of everything in your environment and you defended us all from Mr. Hicks like a real hero.”
She eased herself around a fallen log and waited for him to open the door a little wider. The forest hadn’t felt cold this morning until now.
“As long as you’re pleased,” he murmured. “It doesn’t matter why.”
What did he think he was, some kind of curse? She wanted to ask him that very thing but knew better. Keep it light. He was sensitive. If he was feeling defensive, challenging him was only going to drive him back into his own hole. It was remarkable how like Ray he was, in fact.
She laughed. “You could be handy to have around.”
“But do you dare keep me?”
“I can handle you, Mr. Grabian.” She glanced over her shoulder and gave him her best don’t-mess-with-me look just to drive the point home. “Just watch me.”
His amusement with her response was as genuine as the warning in his eyes. Caroline’s next verbal parry, which would have been sassy enough to cover up the sudden chill she felt, was preempted by their arrival at the Hickses’ trailer. The children ran inside with Dash, and Caroline sat down on the front steps to take off her slalom.
Meical retreated to the picnic table under an elm. She glanced up just as the sun emerged from behind a cloud and cast him in gold. Beautiful.
Except for the sudden wince that crossed Meical’s face. His jaw tightened as though he’d just cut himself with a knife and was trying not to let on that it hurt. He scooted farther down on the bench, into the shade of the elm. Sensitivity to sunlight could be a psychosomatic ailment brought on by posttraumatic stress.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
The door between them slammed shut. Not that it mattered, because there was enough fear and self-doubt etched on his face to tell her that something had just happened that he hadn’t expected.
But when he lifted his gaze to hers, the only trace of emotion she saw was a come-no-closer warning. “I’m fine.”
Caroline backed off, giving him a placating smile and went inside to help the children gather the things they wanted to take with them to the Calvins’. Once inside, she watched Meical from the window.
He rubbed his arm, where the sun had touched him a mome
nt ago, and covered his face with his hands.
Meical forced out a sigh and watched the sun glisten on the snow in the yard—light that he had borne painlessly only a few hours ago.
Was he reverting? Was this one day all he would have? Or was it like Neshi said, and he was just having a difficult transition?
He didn’t have himself under control. That much was certain. For that reason alone he shouldn’t risk remaining here with Caroline. It would be easy to disappear from her life, right now, while her focus was fixed on the children.
Meical’s heart ached to think how hurt she would be to find him gone. She really needed someone. But it was better to leave now than risk becoming a monster in her eyes.
He stood up and edged backward toward a trail, keeping his gaze on the trailer. He focused on her thoughts, her scent, her serenity.
A movement in the underbrush behind him made him turn. He narrowed his eyes and searched the shadows there. A pair of feline eyes glowed for a moment, and a small black cat sauntered out of the greenery to study him. The golden charm on its collar twinkled in the sunlight.
A whisper of a presence bloomed on the breeze, very close to him, then dissipated, leaving behind a voiceless plea. Stay.
Who was this lady who had the power to reach him, asleep or awake, the power to hide herself even from Neshi?
Whoever she was, he could no more resist her plea than he could resist the call of Caroline’s blood and pleasure.
Four hours into the evening and not a twinge. Not even an ache. She must be healing, really and truly. Caroline sat back in the warm bath water and let her gaze wander over her candlelit bathroom. Beyond the door, Meical’s rhythmic footfall made him sound like a guardsman on duty. She heard his footfall pause, as though he were listening, as though he could see exactly what she saw in her mind.
It had been that way all day between them. They were in perfect syncopation. How awesome to experience that with someone. They’d gotten the Hicks kids settled over at the Calvins’ place, and John had given Meical the key to their other extra cabin so he’d have a place to hang his hat for however long he needed it. The cabin was just a stone’s throw up the trail from Caroline’s, and Millie had supplied Meical with clean towels and sheets, a couple of blankets, a sack of groceries and a spare set of John’s scrubs to sleep in.
On the surface, Meical had been appreciative and charming, but underneath, Caroline could feel the aching restlessness that drove him. It was eating at him, that hunger she’d felt in him from the start. And then there was that horrendous dream he’d had—or past-life memory?
She needed to get to the bottom of his psychosis. Tomorrow she’d begin her sessions with him.
Low murmurs reached her ears. Meical and Neshi? Funny. She hadn’t heard Neshi arrive. Dash, who’d been asleep on the rug beside the tub, lifted her head and whined plaintively.
“Yeah, you didn’t hear him come in either, did you?” Caroline whispered.
And Dash never missed anything.
Caroline pulled the plug to let the water out of the tub, grasped the safety rail and levered herself onto her foot. Balancing, she pulled the towel off the shelf close at hand and wrapped it around herself. She’d scarcely dressed when the voices stopped, and Meical resumed his pacing. Neshi seemed to have gone.
Meical’s footfall became more agitated, and when she tried to discern the nature of his agitation, she felt the door close between them. That wasn’t the first time he’d done that today.
Exasperating man.
She joined him in the living room.
“Had a good bath?” he asked.
Caroline studied his face before she answered. He still didn’t look like he felt well. His eyes were as big and bright as a full moon next to the pallor of his skin, and so very intense.
“I sure did. Was that Dr. Neshi I heard you talking to?”
Meical pulled a chair up to the fire for her, and when she sat down to towel dry her hair, he sat down at her feet. “Yes. We had a talk about my progress. He seems to think you can fix all my problems, if I let you.”
She hung her head to one side and admired the ripple of muscle under his borrowed turtleneck as he scooted closer to the fire. He was so deliciously strong.
“So, are you going to let me?”
“I am. And I will perform to all your expectations.”
Expectations? That sounded like a guy who’d been put through the psychiatric mill more than once. “I have no expectations. We’ll just talk and share. Okay?”
He eyed her with a mixture of good humor and sheer lust that turned her to jelly. “It takes two to ‘share’ anything.”
Uh-oh. Here it came. Classic bargaining approach. Well, if negotiation made him feel comfortable enough to open up to her, fine. Whatever it took.
“Okay. We’ll start tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock?”
“Will you let me play with your toys?”
Caroline grinned. “You smarmy thing. How can you say that with a straight face?”
He gave her a pretend hurt look. “I want you to see how genuinely cooperative I am.”
“Do you think play therapy will help you?”
“You never know. Just give me the right toy and—”
“Oh, go away.” She pointed at the door. “Shoo.”
Instead, he rose and caught her hand in his, and turning it palm upward, kissed it as gracefully as Mr. Knightley himself.
“I’m not ready to turn in yet. How about you?”
“You look pretty tired to me.”
“I’m fine.” He perused the books that lined her mantel. “I have just the thing. I’ll read to you. That’ll put you right out of the picture before either of us turn into pumpkins.”
She laughed and settled back in her chair, more enamored than she could admit with the idea of listening to Meical’s smooth, deep, polished voice. It would be almost as good as listening to someone out of a book by—
“Jane Austen,” he said, running his hand over the creased spines of her collection. “This will do the trick. We’ll be yawning our heads off in no time.”
“For your information,” she countered, “I don’t find Jane Austen boring in the least.”
“Obviously. You must have everything she wrote, by the look of it. But this—” he held up her dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice “—is your favorite. You’re a Mr. Darcy fan, I bet.”
“Who isn’t?”
He settled down again on the rug, and Dash edged closer and rested her chin on his thigh. He gave her a sideway glance and cleared his throat, opening the book to the beginning. “What is Mr. Darcy’s secret? Besides the fact that he’s filthy rich and has good taste in clothing?”
“He’s hot,” Caroline murmured, watching the firelight glisten in Meical’s hair.
Meical snorted. “That’s what my mother and my sisters thought, too. They were absolutely prostrate over Darcy.”
Caroline grinned at him. “So, naturally, being a discerning reader, you wanted to know why and you read the book yourself.”
He waved a hand as though to banish the thought. “I went fishing to escape the inevitable.”
“Oh, good grief, Meical.”
“They insisted I read it anyway.”
“Good for them.”
“All to enlighten me about what a catch Darcy was. When I refused, they told me, ‘You will like it, Meical. There are soldiers in it.’ So I read it, and nary a battle was to be found.”
“Was, too. What about all that verbal swordplay going on between Elizabeth and Darcy? That’s battle.”
“But Darcy, being an idiot, failed to realize that it takes more than wealth and a wardrobe to match wits with a woman like Elizabeth Bennet.” He gave her a wicked grin. “What Darcy should have done is bring out his heavy artillery.”
She couldn’t resist. “His heavy artillery?”
“The three-part plan for initiating courtship.”
“Oh, I have to know.”
&nb
sp; “One: he should have shown Elizabeth’s mother he’s a decent fellow by attempting to make conversation she could prosper from socially, because that was what she really wanted. Two: he should have shown Elizabeth’s father he had some sense by showing an interest in the way Mr. Bennet ran his estate. Three: the first chance he had, he should have strolled in the garden with Miss Bennet—her garden, not his—and when the moment presented itself, he should have kissed her until her head spun.”
Caroline laughed. “Please, tell me you’re not speaking from experience.”
“It’s not all my own wisdom. What else do soldiers talk about from one moment to the next, when they know it might be their last conversation?”
Judging by the way Meical avoided her gaze, set the book aside and suddenly got very busy tending the fire, he hadn’t meant to say that. If he’d been in combat recently, that could explain his traumatic dream about soldiers from long ago. Maybe he identified with those men and saw their cause against Napoleon, a tyrant, as his cause. Or wanted to.
“So, you’re a soldier?”
He said with his back to her, “Long ago.”
His tone warned her it was not open for discussion, which meant, of course, they’d eventually have to discuss it. But not now. Right now, he was trying to get comfortable with her.
Meical sat back and picked up the book again. “May it please you, then, madam, I will read.”
It was such a simple, sweet thing for Meical to do for her. Somehow he had known how much she would enjoy this. The language of that day seemed to roll off his tongue. And even when he paused to make fun of Mr. Darcy, he gave the character such life when he read, it was as though Mr. Darcy were there in the flesh. She put her head back, closed her eyes and enjoyed her favorite book as she had never enjoyed it before.
The night seemed to fly by. It was nearly one o’clock before she noticed his voice had grown more lulling. Her eyes grew heavy and she felt like she was drifting with each word, on the sound of his beautiful voice.
“Sweet dreams.”
She opened her eyes to find him leaning over her chair. “Oh. Sorry. Are you going?”
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