Rafe didn’t want to pry, didn’t want to know, but necessity made him ask, “Did you give anyone a key?”
She sighed and continued to eat. “That would have been too easy. I’ve never given anyone a key. And my door is keyed the same as the front door, but only my room was disturbed.”
Disturbed? Talk about understating a horrifying moment. She had to have been terrified. Another woman might have come running to him for help. Apparently Rhianna hadn’t even considered him an option. Strangely, that hurt.
Rhianna had just polished off her bacon when the waitress returned with her milk and waffles. Rafe couldn’t eat another bite after the story she’d told him. His stomach churned with worry.
“So I started carrying the gun. I do know how to use it.”
“Could you shoot someone?” he asked gently.
Rhianna suddenly shoved away from the table, stood and headed toward the rest room. “Be back in a minute.”
Rafe hadn’t realized the inconvenience of pregnancy, hadn’t ever thought about it except in regards to horses and cows. He’d delivered calves and foals since he was a kid. As familiar as he was with animals breeding, Rhianna’s pregnancy was different. He couldn’t help but worry that the stress of the stalker might be affecting the baby’s health.
And he now understood why Daniel McCloud had called him. McCloud was no fool. Her father had called him because Rafe had a personal stake in Rhianna’s safety. While Rhianna still lived with her parents, Daniel had to work. Her father couldn’t afford to stay with Rhianna and protect her twenty-four hours a day. Knowing Rhianna’s stubbornness, she probably hadn’t told Daniel that Rafe was the father. But once McCloud had learned of Rhianna’s pregnancy, he could count backward to the night of the party as well as anyone. Rafe and Rhianna had disappeared for the evening, making it easy to figure out that Rafe was the baby’s father.
Rhianna had spent eight and a half months alone. Rafe would be damned if he’d let her face this stalker for another day by herself. He would protect her and the baby to the best of his ability. Now all he had to do was convince Rhianna to let him.
Rafe paid the check and glanced anxiously toward the rest room. Unlike Rhianna’s first trip there, this one was taking a long time. Rafe waited another two minutes, then walked to the ladies’ room and knocked lightly. When Rhianna didn’t answer, he opened the door.
“Rhianna. You all right?”
No one answered.
Puzzled and worried she’d taken ill, Rafe stepped inside the small bathroom.
She was gone.
Chapter Three
Fear poured over Rafe like an icy shower. Where was Rhianna? Had the stalker followed them to the restaurant? Had he and Rhianna been too busy discussing their personal problems to notice a suspicious character lurking nearby?
The bathroom window was too small to make an escape. And Rafe would have noticed if Rhianna had gone out the front. Spinning on his heel, Rafe turned and opened a door marked Office.
Empty.
Turning down a narrow hallway, he broke into a sweat. He burst through a door marked Exit, and found himself in an alley. He looked right.
Nothing.
He looked left. His breath went out with a whoosh of relief. Rhianna stood against a wall. Alone.
As he strode toward her, he wondered if the relief he felt had come too soon. She didn’t look well. Her face had lost all color, and her eyes glittered like a horse caught in truck headlights. She didn’t so much as turn her head as he approached, didn’t twitch a muscle, as if she were focused inward and oblivious to the world.
He eased a hand under her elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“I needed some air.” Her words came without inflection, from a distance.
“Are you in pain?”
“Just a little dizzy.”
Prepared to catch her if necessary, Rafe slid his arm around her waist. “Lean on me and breathe deeply. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“Stuff it.” Her words were weak, the will behind them strong.
“Excuse me?” Rafe wondered just what he had done or said to irritate her. He thought he was being kind and reasonable. Protective.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” She closed her eyes wearily. “Can’t you just give me a minute?”
“Sure.” He’d give her whatever she needed, but he doubted she wanted to hear that. Even weak and dizzy, Rhianna had too much stubborn pride to admit to needing anyone. Especially him. He’d hurt her by ignoring her for months, and he couldn’t reasonably expect her to easily forgive him.
“Don’t patronize me, Rafe. I’ve had dizzy spells for months. It’s nothing to worry about, just my low blood pressure.” She breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth. Slowly her color returned to normal, and she opened her eyes. “I know how to deal with it. See? And I’m sorry I snapped at you. It seems as though everyone is either giving me advice, hovering or asking if I’m in labor. Just because I’m carrying a baby doesn’t mean I’m helpless, or that my brain’s quit working. It gets old after a while. And reining in my temper was never my strong suit, even when I’m not pumped up with baby-making hormones. I’ve been…prickly.”
No kidding.
“I’ll try and remember that.” He kept his tone calm, the way he would around a spooked mare. “When you didn’t return to the table, I feared the stalker might have…”
Rhianna turned to him and really looked into his eyes. She must have seen his worry because her voice softened. “I really am sorry.” Her hand fluttered at her side. “I didn’t mean to cause—”
“I know.”
He took her hand. Although he sensed she wanted to yank it away, she didn’t. Probably because she felt badly for snapping at him. Rafe didn’t care. He’d take any excuse to touch her, to show her he did care about her health and safety.
They strolled through the alley toward the street and his car. “Your truck repairs won’t be completed until tomorrow.”
“Just when did you arrange this?”
“While you were in the rest room. And I reserved a hotel room for tonight—two hotel rooms.”
“Whoa!” She jerked her hand from his, mistrust in her eyes, and scowled at him. “I can’t afford repairs. I’m going back to my house and my parents. I’m not spending the night with you—two rooms or not. I’m sure they connect.”
Still unsettled by her disappearance in the restaurant, thoroughly annoyed that she’d pulled her hand from his at the first excuse, he wondered why he was so hot and bothered over this woman. Was it just because she carried his child? He’d like to think so, but Rhianna always had a way of putting the spurs to his temper. Still, he tried to be patient, ignored her crack about the hotel room and reined in his anger. “I’ll pay for the truck repairs.”
She tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “You will not. Our horses may have had extra medical expenses these past few months, but we pay our own bills.”
He folded his arms across his chest and refused to let her ramrod the issue. “I don’t want my baby riding in an unsafe vehicle.”
She planted her fists on her hips and glared at him with defiance. “McClouds don’t take charity.”
“And I’m not offering it. I owe you. Owe you for medical bills. Owe you for baby stuff. Owe you for time you lost from work.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he wouldn’t let her get a word in until he finished. Just because she was pregnant didn’t mean she could have everything her way. “As for returning to your folks’ house, I don’t want you going anywhere the stalker can find you. And the baby. I’ll only be with you if you need me.” And from the look on her face, hell would ice over before that happened.
Rhianna opened her fingers, then closed them back into fists, then opened them again with a shake. “I can’t stay—not even if I wanted to. Dad needs help with the foal.”
“He’ll manage without you.”
“I have animal husbandry classes at school. I’ve been at
tending part time for years and I almost have my degree.”
“You can make up the classes.”
“I need clothes.”
“We’ll buy some.”
“Who gave you permission to take over my life?”
He didn’t bother answering such a ludicrous accusation. Instead he spoke more quickly than his normal muted drawl. “And don’t even start harping about money again. It’s insulting to think that I wouldn’t support my—our—child.”
Rhianna chuckled, a lightning mood switch he much preferred to her anger. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re stubborn?”
“Moi? I’m the easygoing Sutton. My brother Cam is the hardheaded one.”
She shook her head and grinned as he opened the passenger door of his car for her. “You’re easygoing as long as you get your way.”
He nodded, much preferring her smiles to her scowls, even if the smiles did make him ache. “Now you have me all figured out.”
Before Rafe could close the door, an ice cream vendor on a bicycle pulling a three-wheeled freezer approached, jingling his bells. Rhianna started to lick her lips, and Rafe grinned at her insatiable appetite.
He reached for his wallet. “Chocolate, strawberry or vanilla?”
“Neapolitan, please.”
He should have known she’d crave all three flavors. He purchased the treat, and as she ate, he drove through the Mile High City, concentrating on traffic and his route. He came to the city fairly often and knew his way around Denver’s excellent museums, the historic homes in residential neighborhoods and several lovely old bed-and-breakfast inns that brimmed with the city’s colorful past.
When Rhianna had finished eating her ice cream and neatly folded the wrapper into a tiny square, she leaned back in her seat. He thought she simply needed to rest her neck, but as he passed Congress Park on Eighth Avenue, he noticed her scanning the rearview mirror every thirty seconds or so.
“Anything wrong?”
“Just habit.”
“Rhianna, do you have any idea who might be after you? Or why?”
“Not a clue. That’s what’s so frustrating.” She exhaled a sigh of frustration. “Even the police said the stalker’s actions don’t make much sense. The stalker never comes close enough to talk to me, but threatens, always from a distance. What’s the point in scaring me?”
RAFE AND RHIANNA CHECKED into the hotel after he’d convinced her that the stalker would never find her here and that returning home was unsafe. Rafe walked her over the marble floors and past the cigar room with its leather chairs and rich men’s atmosphere. And damn him, he’d reserved a suite that included two bedrooms, a living area decorated in a Southwestern style of soft russets and eggshell blues, and a full-size kitchen. White roses filled a crystal vase on the fireplace mantel and their scent mixed with jars of potpourri. Today’s Denver Times lay neatly folded next to a fruit basket.
Rhianna ignored the newspaper and picked up a green apple. She polished it on her sleeve, then bit into it with a satisfying crunch. She’d already phoned her father, who’d told her that a rest would do her good. She’d thought he’d sounded much too satisfied with himself after she’d admitted she was staying with Rafe.
But Rhianna had no time to dwell on Daniel’s smug tone. Rafe Sutton, the tall man in front of her, was causing too many conflicting emotions. She only wanted him there if he wanted to be. Duty wasn’t a good enough reason. Neither was guilt. She appraised him from head to boots, taking in the stubborn angle of his masculine chin, the smoldering gray eyes, the lips that she remembered when she closed her eyes at night, the broad chest that had pillowed her head more softly than any down pillow, the slim hips that gyrated with just the right amount of…Don’t go there.
He doesn’t want you, she reminded herself. He’d only come back because Daniel had called him. And now Rafe felt obligated to help her. Why couldn’t he have left her alone?
He probably had no idea how painful she found it to be near him. And she would never, ever let him know.
Eight and a half months ago, she’d given Rafe a part of herself she’d never surrendered before and probably never would again. She’d taken a chance in going to bed with him, but she’d wanted him for so long, she couldn’t have denied her desire. And that night he’d lived up to her expectations. After their lovemaking, she’d hoped he would come back to her, maybe explore something more permanent, but when he hadn’t, she’d done her best to put him out of her mind. She’d known he wasn’t the marrying kind. Even after she discovered her pregnancy, she’d never considered using her condition to lasso him in.
She’d thought the acutely painful memories would fade. They hadn’t. But being close to him, smelling his scent, looking into his eyes and knowing he didn’t care for her the way she’d dreamed, made her angry and sad and thoroughly confused that she could still respond to a man who clearly didn’t want her.
She was annoyed with herself, angry at him. How could he be so stupid to throw away what they could have had? She didn’t need constant reminders of what might have been. She didn’t need him.
She nibbled her apple and debated throwing him out of his own hotel suite. But that would be callous, rude.
Yet what right did he have to just show up and take over her problems?
Rafe gestured for her to sit, and took up a pad and pen. “We need a plan.”
“Why?”
“So when we divert from it, we know what we’re diverting from.” When she frowned in puzzlement, he ran his fingers through that lovely dark hair of his. “That was a joke to relax you.”
“Oh. Good thing you don’t make your living as a comedian.”
“Very funny.” He pushed the notepad and pen toward her, and she recalled those same hands so intimately caressing her flesh, setting her on fire with pleasure. “Why don’t you start by making a list.”
“Of?” Unwilling to put down her apple for fear he’d notice her shaking fingers, she transferred the fruit from her right hand to her left, then picked up the pen.
“Everyone you’ve dated for the last five years. Everyone who’s angry at you. Anyone your father’s fired. Angry relatives, that kind of thing.”
She dropped the pen. She didn’t want to tell him how few men she’d dated. Didn’t want him prying into every corner of her life. “I already went through this with the police.”
Rafe’s gray eyes glinted with steel and the tiny flecks of black in his irises glittered. “Then it should be easier this time.”
She could see he had no intention of giving in. No intention of stopping this inquisition until he had what he wanted. He’d been the same way the night of their child’s conception. Thorough. Uncompromising. Commanding.
Ignoring her obvious reluctance, he picked up the pen. “I’ll do the writing. Just give me names.” He started scribbling. “We can put Duncan Phillips at the top of the list.”
“Duncan?”
“Has he forgiven you for turning down his proposal?”
“No, but—”
“Has he forgiven you for stabling your mare near his stallion?”
“No, but—”
“And he lives in Denver. He has the means, opportunity and a motive to harass you.”
“Duncan isn’t crazy. He’s merely…eccentric.”
“Uh-huh.”
She had the feeling Rafe was patronizing her again. But maybe his thoughts on the matter were clearer. Rafe didn’t have the disadvantage of knowing Duncan Phillips. Rafe’s thoughts weren’t colored by her memories of a Duncan who adored his horses and a man who’d treated her with the utmost courtesy and respect—until she’d rejected him. Duncan’s temper had let loose then and he’d turned nasty. But the man wasn’t violent, was he?
“Who else?” Rafe prodded. “I need your help, Rhianna. I can’t do this by myself.”
His speech might be gentle, but she still didn’t want him to delve into her life. She remained silent.
“Your father’s worked o
n half the ranches around Denver. Any of the hands ever make a pass at you?”
“Most of them.” She grimaced and answered despite her intention not to. “I hardly think that qualifies them to be put on your list.”
“Our list. And I can’t blame a man for…”
She cocked her brow and watched his eyes. “Going after what you wanted?”
Eyes gentle and rueful, he gazed at her seemingly without guilt. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
“That’s why you wrote me so many touching love letters.”
He winced and his quicksilver eyes darkened with shadows. “You can’t get past that, can you?”
“Nope.” Finished with the apple, she tossed the core into the trash and folded her arms across her chest, portraying strength in order to hide the cutting sorrow she couldn’t put aside. “You want me to spill my life to you. Well, it may not be very exciting, but it’s my life. And it’s private.”
“Is your privacy more important to you than your safety?”
She remained silent.
“What about the baby’s safety?” he pressed.
His logic fired up her temper. “Damn you. Just because we put a name from my past on a list doesn’t mean the baby and I will be safe.”
He threw down the pen, straddled the seat and leaned back until he balanced on the chair’s back legs, studying her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. “So what do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
“Because I’ve stayed away for the last eight and a half months?”
“Now you’re catching on.”
“Look, you knew from the start that one night was all we might have.”
“I knew that then. I know it better now.”
“But now we have a baby to consider. If we can’t figure out who’s stalking you, there’s only one way to keep you and the baby safe.”
“I’m listening.”
“You can come live with me.”
What? Live in his house, see him every day—so that when she finally left, she could spend the rest of her days grieving over what she couldn’t have? “Excuse me? I thought you said I should come live with you.”
Lullaby and Goodnight Page 4