After Ian had plopped the basket in the center of the table and lit the candles, he studied the wine label. “White wine with chili? What would your father say?”
Meg snorted. “Who gives a…?” She slid a glance toward Travis, busy mashing cornbread on his tray.
“Sorry for bringing up a sore subject.” He tipped more wine into her glass, even though she’d just taken one sip, probably to compensate for mentioning her father and spoiling a perfectly good meal.
She took a gulp and began spooning beans and little pieces of meat onto Travis’s tray, along with some thoroughly cooked carrots.
“That’s not too spicy for you?” Ian tapped Travis’s high chair with his fork.
Meg liked the way Ian spoke directly to Travis instead of over his head. Travis liked it, too. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he studied Ian with interest.
Travis repeated, “Spicy,” and then crammed more beans into his mouth.
“There’s your answer.” Meg laughed and felt the tension seeping from her shoulders for the first time that evening.
They shared another few glasses of wine and Ian and Travis got into a very serious discussion about colors, until it all dissolved into silliness, with Ian accusing Travis of having a blue face.
Travis had always had men in his life, mostly Meg’s coworkers, and lately Pete Cahill, but he seemed to sense something special in Ian. Could it be that blood connection? Probably not, since Ian had felt no such connection with his own father.
It was all Ian.
When Travis started to get antsy, Meg wiped his red-stained face and hands and scooped him from the high chair. She handed him his train and deposited him on the floor with a sippy cup of milk.
The clink of dishes in the sink indicated that Ian had already cleared the table. He’d been a stellar husband in that respect, since he couldn’t stand clutter. She gathered the remaining food from the table and joined him in the kitchen.
He bumped his hip against hers. “Just like old times, huh?”
“You were always a big help around the house…when you were home.”
“Ouch.” He slid the last plate into the dishwasher and wiped his hands on a dishtowel, crumpling it in his fists. “That’s why you didn’t tell me you were pregnant?”
Sighing, she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I had a million reasons, Ian. All of them seemed rock solid at the time. Now that I see you and Travis together…I realize I made a mistake. A big one.”
Such a big one, she’d probably torpedoed any chance of getting back together with her husband. She folded her arms across her stomach, wondering how that idea had wormed itself into her brain. She’d never dreamed of reuniting with Ian, even after telling him about Travis. Probably because she knew, once she dropped that bombshell, he’d never be able to forgive her.
“Okay, no more.” He held up his fingers in a peace sign. “No more third degree. I’m going to take what I can get now, and spend some time with my son.”
He dropped the dishtowel on the counter and joined Travis on the floor. Meg left them together while she finished cleaning up the kitchen. She checked the latch on the window above the sink. Usually she enjoyed a little fresh air, even cold fresh air, but the night seemed particularly black outside, with the clouds skittering over a tiny slice of moon.
She shivered for no good reason and then punched the buttons on the dishwasher. Her son’s whining indicated bedtime.
Crouching next to Travis on the floor, she ruffled his toffee-colored hair. Would it turn into a darker brown like Ian’s? “I think someone’s getting tired.”
Ian fell back on his forearms. “Oh good. I thought it was me.”
“Kids get fussy when they get tired, at least this kid does.” She pinched Travis’s nose. “Time for bed. Can you say good-night to…Daddy?”
Travis clambered onto Ian’s stomach, knocking him flat on his back. Then he bounced on his ribs as Ian grunted. “What am I, a horse?”
Giggling, Travis fell forward and burrowed his small head into Ian’s very broad chest. Ian brushed a tentative hand across Travis’s scalp, twisting one curl around his finger. “Ah, he has the curse of the wavy hair.”
“Curse? Everyone loves his hair.” Meg tickled Travis’s cheek. “You ready for bed now?”
Travis nodded and Meg peeled him from Ian’s body. As she balanced him on her hip, Travis waved. “Night, Daddy.”
Meg’s throat ached and she blinked back tears.
Ian waved back. “Night, Travis.”
By the time Meg brushed Travis’s teeth and changed him into his jammies, he was half asleep. She tucked him into his brand-new toddler bed. Toddler beds and booster seats already, and Ian had missed it all.
Damn her insecurities.
She kicked off her clogs and padded into the living room in her stocking feet. Ian had a glass of water in one hand while twisting something around the fingers of his other hand.
She poured herself a glass of water and joined him on the other end of the couch. “You’re doing great with Travis, very natural.”
His lips quirked up on one side. “It helps that I don’t actually have to carry on a conversation with him.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She tucked her feet beneath her. “That discussion of the different colors sounded quite profound to me.” She tilted her head toward the yarn wrapped around his fingers. “What’s that?”
He unraveled the black yarn and dangled it from his fingertips. “I found it outside.”
“Huh?” She wrinkled her nose. “And you picked it up?”
He pulled the yarn taut and strummed it with his thumb. “When I walked up to your house tonight, I heard something in the bushes.”
Meg’s pulse hitched and her heart fluttered in her chest as her gaze darted to the kitchen window. “The underbrush at the back of the house?”
“Yeah. I thought it might be an animal, even though I had a weird feeling about it. The noise sounded too calculated to be random.”
“Calculated how?”
“A rustling. Silence. Twigs cracking. Silence. And then an all-out burst of activity when I started walking back there. If my car had frightened an animal, it would’ve hightailed it out of there immediately.”
Meg folded her arms, her fingers biting into her biceps. “You walked back there?”
He nodded.
Her heart was beating so hard, the blood thrummed in her ears. “And you found that?”
Ian dropped the yarn on her leg, where it seemed to burn through her jeans. “Is it yours? Do you recognize it?”
She pinched it between two fingers, the texture rough on her pads. “It looks like a piece of yarn unraveled from a scarf or some mittens, doesn’t it?”
“That’s what I thought.”
“You think someone was out there?”
He shrugged, carefully avoiding her eyes. “Could’ve been there before. Is that a path people normally take?”
Swallowing hard, she shook her head. “That way pretty much leads to wilderness, or the house next door. But if you’re going to the houses along this stretch, you use the road out front. You don’t scramble through the bushes in the back.”
Ian held out his hand and Meg dropped the yarn, now scorching her fingers, into his palm. “That’s why you pounded on my door, isn’t it?”
“It’s dark and deserted out here, Meg.”
She folded her hands in her lap to stop their trembling. “I think I saw a face at the kitchen window right before you arrived.”
“What?” He jerked forward, banging his knee on the coffee table and sloshing the water over the rim of the glass.
“I was setting the table and the curtains stirred. When I went over to shut the window, I thought I saw a face.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I figured I imagined it. Why didn’t you say something about the noises in the underbrush and the yarn before now?”
He hunched forward, balancing hi
s elbows on his knees. “The threat, if that’s what it was, had disappeared for the moment. I didn’t want to ruin dinner. I didn’t want to scare you or Travis. Besides,” he pointed to the closet by the door, “I have my weapon in my jacket.”
“They haven’t found the German tourist yet.” Meg drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them tightly.
“What about his hotel room? His car?”
“I don’t know about the hotel room. His car is still in the lot at the trailhead. Has the CIA checked out his identity yet?”
“The agent down from Denver ran a check on all the hikers on the list from Rocky Mountain Adventures. No hits. But Hans could have appropriated someone’s identity.”
“Great.” Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back.
Strong fingers squeezed her knee. “Meg? I don’t want to leave you and Travis here alone tonight.”
Her eyelids flew open. She’d been longing to hear those words all night, but not under the present circumstances. Not under any circumstances where Ian would feel obligated to stay with her. He’d always fulfill his duty, but she didn’t want him that way.
“I think we’re good, Ian. We’re not even sure there was ever anyone lurking around outside. All we have is a piece of yarn and a phantom face at the window that could’ve been my own.”
His hand slid from her leg. “I don’t like it.”
“Besides, I have a gun, too, and I know how to use it. I keep it unloaded and locked up for Travis’s safety, but I can pull it out.”
Ian’s eyes narrowed to cold slits and Meg pressed her spine against the cushion of the couch. “Why are you pushing me away, Meg? I can bunk right here. I’m not interested in sharing your bed. It’s not just about you anymore. I have a son in there, and I’m here to protect him.”
His words lashed her face and she dropped her head, allowing her hair to create a veil around her hot cheeks. She had her answer right there. He wanted his son but not her. “You can stay.”
A noisy sigh escaped his lips and one long finger hooked around the edge of her hair, sweeping it back from her face and tracing the curve of her ear. “I’m sorry, Meg. I’m on edge.”
Ian had never been quick to anger, and once it boiled over he worked quickly to suck it back in. He’d seen too much anger and violence in his life to let it get the better of him. Meg knew the discovery that he had a son had tested his reserve.
She jerked away from his gentle touch and pushed up from the couch. “I’ll get you a blanket and pillow. I’m afraid you are going to have to sleep here, since we have only two bedrooms.”
“I’ve slept on worse.”
She gathered an extra blanket from the hall cupboard and snagged one of her own pillows off her bed. Clutching them to her chest, she returned to the living room where Ian had unlaced his boots and was yanking them off his feet.
She dropped the bedding at the end of the couch. “Do you really think my visitor tonight has anything to do with what happened on the mountain today?”
“Not sure.” He shook out the blanket and collected the water glasses from the coffee table. “If our boy, Hans, is still missing, he could be anywhere. And he obviously knows who you are. Maybe he thinks you saw something, too.”
“I hope not.” She wrapped her arms around her body. She’d hiked those mountain trails numerous times and never feared beast or nature. It took a man to make her blood run cold in her veins.
Ian stepped over the coffee table with one long stride and enveloped her in a warm embrace. His gesture shocked her into silence and immobility. When he stroked the back of her hair, she melted against him…just a little.
“I should never have used your tour group. God knows, I never meant to drag you into my operation.”
“Maybe it was fate.” She rested her cheek against his chest where his heart beat strong and steady. “You discovered your son.”
His lips brushed her hair before he pulled away and whispered, “Fate.”
Before she made a fool of herself and begged him to kiss her, or worse, to take her to bed, she laid her palms flat on his chest and stumbled backward. He caught her arm, but she couldn’t even tolerate that level of contact with him if he didn’t intend on taking it any further.
“I need to get to bed. I still have that hike tomorrow morning.”
Ian opened his mouth, thought better of it, and lifted his shoulders. “I’ll be right here.”
Meg turned away on a pair of unsteady legs.
“Thanks for dinner and thanks for allowing me time with Travis.”
She halted but didn’t turn around. Then she called over her shoulder as her feet dragged toward the hallway. “Don’t ever thank me for that.”
MEG CHANGED INTO her pajamas and crept into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. When she poked her head out of the door, she heard Ian’s heavy breathing. He could fall asleep faster than any human she knew.
Since she had every intention of leading that hike tomorrow, she shoved her feet into her slippers and tiptoed into the kitchen to the door that led to the attached garage. She wanted to check her pack so she’d be ready to go in the morning.
She slipped the lock from the top of the door and descended the two steps into the garage, flicking on the light when she reached the bottom. Cold air wrapped chilly fingers around her body and she shivered in her lightweight flannel pajamas. She scooted past Travis’s new tricycle, the one he should’ve been riding at day care today, and nudged a few balls out of the way with the toe of her slipper.
Something crunched beneath her feet. A gust of wind tousled her hair. Her brows drew together and she twisted her head to the side.
Then her jaw dropped and she let loose a scream to match the howling wind.
Chapter Seven
Ian jerked awake. Branches from the naked plum tree out front tapped against the window. He punched the pillow and shifted his body, draping his legs over the side of the couch. Hard to get comfortable trying to cram a six-foot-two frame onto a six-foot couch. Too bad he’d woken up.
Why did he wake up? Usually he slept like the dead, unless… He held his breath. The wind screeched outside—and something screeched inside.
He scrambled from his uncomfortable bed, grabbed his gun from beneath the couch and stumbled toward the back rooms. Travis’s door gaped open, but the boy slumbered peacefully, his breathing soft and regular. Ian lurched across the hall toward Meg’s room and then spun around at the commotion behind him.
Meg barreled down the dark hallway, arms thrust in front of her. “Ian? Ian?”
“It’s me.” He grabbed her hands, shoving his weapon in the waistband of his jeans. “I’m here.”
She twisted one hand out of his grasp and pointed toward the living room. “The garage. Someone broke into the garage.”
His gut twisted. He should’ve checked out the house when he got here and suspected someone had been lurking outside. “He’s not still there, is he?”
“God, I hope not.” She peeked into Travis’s room, checked the windows and left his door wide open. “I saw the broken window and then after a few moments of shock, flew out of that garage so fast I almost lost my fuzzy slippers.”
“Did you scream?” He curled an arm around her shoulders and led her back to the living room. “I heard a scream.”
“Yep, that was me.”
A tremble rolled through her body and he tucked her against his side before planting her on his tumbled bed. He slid his gun up his bare chest and then dangled it at his side. “Which way’s the garage?”
Her gaze jumped from the gun to his face and back again. She leveled a surprisingly steady finger toward the kitchen. “It’s through that door. The broken window is on the right side of the garage as you enter.”
She gasped and he nearly fired into the microwave. “Watch your bare feet. There’s glass all over the floor.”
Blowing out a breath he perched on the edge of the coffee table and pu
lled on his heavy socks. “These will have to do.”
His steps whispered across the tiled floor of the kitchen and he slid the lock back on the door. Meg hovered at the entrance to the kitchen. “Hit the light switch on your right.”
He flicked on the light and scanned the garage. Meg didn’t park her car in here, but all sorts of mountain climbing equipment, outdoor tools and toys crammed the small space. She even had a kayak hanging from the rafters.
Not many places for a man to hide. Ian bounded down the two steps and picked his way across the floor littered with toys and balls and then glass. He squatted next to the pieces of broken window.
The guy had hit the window hard. A glass-cutting device would’ve been neater, but then he probably didn’t imagine that this assignment would involve breaking and entering.
Ian peered at the jagged edges around the window. No way anyone climbed through those spiky teeth. Whoever broke that window didn’t have time to remove the pieces of glass and crawl through.
Had Ian interrupted him when he arrived at Meg’s place?
His gut roiled when he thought about what might have happened if he hadn’t come to dinner tonight. And stayed? Was the man watching the house now? Had he planned to come back and finish what he started?
Like hell he would.
“Ian?” Meg’s voice floated down to him and the edge of fear in it pumped a fresh load of adrenaline into his system.
“It’s all good. Nobody hiding out down here. He probably couldn’t find any room.”
Ian climbed the two steps, shut off the light and locked the door behind him. At least she had a good, solid one-way dead bolt.
Meg stood, one ridiculous fuzzy slipper on top of the other, hovering between the kitchen and the living room. “Do you think he was in there? I didn’t want to stick around to see if he took anything.”
Ian put the safety back on his gun and placed it on the kitchen counter. “He didn’t get through that window. He didn’t remove the shards of glass still in the frame. Nobody would’ve been able to crawl through that.”
“Oh.” Meg’s tensed shoulders dropped. “Do you think he wanted to get in?”
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