Читать книгу Baby By Chance - M.J. Rodgers - Страница 8

“OUR CLIENT IS VERY pleased, David,” Charles Knight told his son as he waved a check. “Getting a runaway to voluntarily return to her parents isn’t something we see often. How’d you pull it off?”

Charles sat on the edge of his son’s desk. He was David’s height and still powerfully built at sixty-four, with the finely chiseled features of the men who swung tennis rackets and rode polo ponies in slick magazine ads.

“Her boyfriend convinced our runaway to bail on her family,” David told his dad. “She imagined herself in love and was ready to give up anything for the guy, until I showed her some live-action video of the slimeball getting it on with another girl.”

“Where did that video come from?”

“The guy taped it himself. He gets his kicks filming his conquests of underage girls.”

Charles shook his head. “What are you going to do about him?”

“He’s twenty-one. Jared has all the evidence he needs to make an arrest. I just wanted to be sure our client’s daughter was home safe and out of the fray before the law got involved.”

“Smart of you to bring your brother in on this, David. As always, you have thoroughly thought out every aspect of this case. So, why are you frowning?”

David took the file in front of him and shoved it into his open desk drawer. “Didn’t realize I was.”

“Something on your mind?”

David closed the drawer and looked up at his dad. Those steel-blue eyes had him in their sights. Charles might have the look of a country club man, but David knew his dad had the keen instincts and cunning of a cougar.

“I was just thinking about this woman who came by yesterday morning before the offices were open.”

“You caught a cat burglar?” Charles asked with a smile.

“Probably would have been better if she’d turned out to be one.”

The teasing smile faded from Charles’s lips as he studied his son’s solemn face. “So, what’s this woman’s name?”

“It’s not important.”

“Something about her is. You going to tell me?”

David wondered whether he should. Maybe a discussion was what he needed to help put all the churning images and emotions into a semblance of order.

“She wanted me to find some guy she had a one-night stand with. Seems she’s carrying his kid.”

“Not exactly an everyday request,” Charles said, “but I don’t see the problem.”

“She made me drag every detail out of her like I was some prosecuting attorney grilling a hostile witness. Even when I explained that she had to open up and be totally honest if I was going to help her, she still held back crucial information.”

“What crucial information?”

“She was wearing a wedding band, yet she said nothing about being married. And, believe me, I gave her plenty of opportunity to spit it out.”

Charles shrugged. “So she was embarrassed or ashamed or both. I’m not saying that dealing with a cheating spouse is pleasant, just part of the job. And there’s nothing in the private eye book of rules that says we have to like a client.”

“But this one didn’t look like someone who should be lying through her straight, white teeth.”

Charles let out a long breath. “Ah, so that’s the problem. You do like her.”

David knew there was no point in arguing. He was attracted to Susan, had been from the first moment he saw her. Not even her evasions or the fact that she was married changed that.

He shot up from his chair, feeling suddenly confined and inexplicably cornered. He stomped over to the window and stared out at the gray day.

“For two solid years attractive women have entered and left this office on a regular basis and my heart hasn’t skipped a beat.”

“Something about this woman has changed that. Don’t beat yourself up, David. Had to happen sometime. Your body’s just telling you the time has come to get back in the game.”

“The timing’s lousy. Makes no sense at all that I’d be attracted to her.”

“Hell, son, I’ve yet to hear a logical explanation as to what happens to a man’s normal good sense when he gets around a certain woman. But if you feel that uncomfortable around this one, maybe your brother Richard better take her case.”

“The case isn’t ours.”

“She changed her mind?”

“I turned her down,” he said as he twisted to gaze at the now empty chair where Susan had sat.

“That’s not like you, son.”

David knew that. Only too well.

He turned back to the window, where miles of slick, silver streets and gray forest spread out before him. On the distant horizon the majestic snow-capped peaks of the Olympic Mountains gathered what was left of the day’s fading light. But all he saw was the stricken look on Susan’s face when he had all but thrown her out of his office.

“Maybe she didn’t tell me about her husband because he’s some big, mean bastard who beats her,” David said. “Or maybe he’s having sexual problems and can’t perform, and she didn’t want to reveal his weakness.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to make this right.”

Charles walked over to his son and rested his hand briefly on his shoulder. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll do.”

“I’m glad one of us is confident.”

“I know you, David. When you have a destination in mind, nothing gets in your way. You meticulously map out the steps you need to take, and you doggedly follow them until you get there.”

David glanced at his dad. “That used to make you groan when it was my turn to pick the route for a family vacation.”

“Only because your old man is the adventurous sort who likes to set off and see what’s around the bend,” Charles said with his usual hearty flare and no hint of apology. “You have to admit, we came upon a lot of amazing sights when we winged it. Things no amount of planning could have uncovered. Something your mother has never fully appreciated, I might add.”

“You always got us lost,” David said with a growing grin.

“And you always got us there. Using the shortest route. Within the scheduled time frame. Or earlier. Damn showoff.”

David took the punch of pride his father delivered, knowing the spirit in which it was thrown, despite the rocking force of the blow against his upper arm.

Charles checked his watch. “Speaking of time, I’d better get going. Have to swing by Jack’s office to see if he’s completed a background check I asked him to do before I pick up my car at the shop. Got the brakes adjusted today.”

“Need a lift?”

“Thanks, but Jack’s already agreed to drop me off. See you tomorrow.”

After his father left, David resumed his staring out the window.

Might be a good idea to do a background check on Susan Carter and her husband. If he understood their relationship, maybe he’d understand why she had slept with another man.

He really wanted to understand. Susan didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would cheat on a husband.

Still, when it came to attractive women, David knew perfectly well that he had shown himself to be just as blind as the next fool.

SUSAN TRUDGED through the front door of her small town house. The morning sickness was bad enough, but this draining fatigue was something that had begun to plague her all day.

“Hi, Honey, I’m home,” she called out as she kicked the door closed behind her.

There was no response from the quiet house. She figured he must be out in the back. She weaved her way through the jungle of houseplants that were threatening to take over her foyer. She dropped her keys into the smiling jaws of a life-size, brown bear made of wood and slung the strap of her shoulder bag over its head. She turned around to step on the foot of a large, ceramic frog wastebasket.

“Honey?” she called again before she separated the only important piece of mail from the bevy of advertisements in her hands. Sticking the envelope between her teeth, she dropped the junk mail into the frog’s open mouth.

When she released the foot lever, the frog gulped down the junk-mail dinner, a happy rivet emerging from its voice box.

She absently patted the frog’s ceramic head with one hand as she removed the mail from her teeth with the other, slitting open the envelope as she strolled into the living room. The local newspaper had sent her a confirming copy of the ad she had placed in the next edition. She read the wording critically, trying to imagine him picking up the paper and seeing the ad for the first time.

Todd. Susan would like to talk to you about that night you met six weeks ago. Extremely Important! Please write to her at Ad 54.

Short. Attention grabbing. Direct. If Todd read the newspaper, she felt confident that he’d know the ad was for him. She’d much prefer knowing more about Todd before seeing him. But she needed answers, and talking to him seemed to be the only way she was going to get them.

“Honey, where are you?” she called as she stuck the ad copy into her pocket and looked around.

In response, a West Highland White Terrier with one floppy, honey-colored ear came dashing down the stairs.

Susan dropped to a squat and opened her arms. The little terrier hopped off the final step and trotted toward her, dragging a boot in his mouth and wagging his tail with enthusiasm. When he reached her, she gave him a quick rub of welcome.

“How did you get into my closet?” she asked, as she tried to wrestle the boot from his jaws. After a playful tug-of-war, Honey reluctantly relinquished the boot.

As Susan rose, she looked closely at the large size and encrusted mud on the boot’s sole. Not one of hers.

She looked around, noticing what she had missed earlier because of her preoccupation with the ad. Out of place in the tidy room was an empty wineglass. The wine bottle was nowhere in sight.

Uh-oh. Not a good sign.

Her eyes traveled up the spiral staircase, where she spied the boot’s mate on the top step.

She trudged up the stairs with Honey trotting along beside her. She entered the bedroom and spied the empty bottle of wine lying on top of the nightstand.

Honey jumped on the bed and headed for the dented pillow where he had obviously been sleeping when she’d come home. On the other pillow rested a head covered with long, curly black hair.

She circled the bed and plopped down on the edge. She gave the bare foot poking out from the covers a gentle shake.

“Ellie?” she called.

The woman asleep in the bed snored.

“So, what’s the trouble with Ellie?” Susan asked her terrier.

Honey twisted around on his short legs to look at the sleeping woman. He gave his fury round body a mighty shake.

“Don’t know either, huh?” she said. “Guess we better get the coffee on and try to find out.”

ELLIE TREMONT SLUMPED over Susan’s kitchen table, her hands circling a cup of black coffee, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. Susan’s best friend had the face of a cherub, the body of a Victoria’s Secret model, and the unerring bad judgment of a Las Vegas gambler when it came to picking men.

“She’s a gourmet cook and knows the season’s statistics of every Seahawks player,” Ellie lamented before punctuating her words with a sob. “How do I compete with a woman like that?”

Susan rested her hand briefly on her friend’s arm. “Love isn’t a competitive sport, El.”

“I got so filthy on the Port Townsend shoot that I had to drop by the apartment to change before going back to the office,” Ellie said. “And what did I find? That woman in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a smirk.”

“That woman did you a favor, El. Always better to find these things out sooner rather than later.”

“Why wasn’t I good enough for Martin?” Ellie said, and let out another moan.

“You were always too good for him,” Susan said. “Remember, this is the guy who thinks a romantic evening is your picking up the pizza and beer and serving him while he sprawls on the couch watching sports on the TV.”

Susan watched Ellie straighten. A good sign. Her friend was listening.

“I’d also lay odds that he’s a lousy lover,” Susan said. “Men who cheat are too self-absorbed to really care about a partner.”

“I should have suspected something when she became his boss,” Ellie said. “Being underneath a woman doing all the work has always been his favorite position.”

Ellie grabbed a tissue, dabbed at her eyes. “I should be glad to be rid of him,” she continued. “He’s nothing but a lazy, cheating, lousy lover!”

“That’s the spirit.”

Ellie smiled. “You’re a good friend.”

“Takes one to know one,” she said, returning the smile.

“Yeah, but you never dump on me the way I’m always dumping on you. Last thing you’d ever do is hook up with the wrong guy. Not that you’ve hooked up with any guy since Paul died. Why would you want to? Paul can never be replaced. He was perfect.”

While Ellie sipped her coffee, Susan stared at the gold band on her finger and all it represented. The courageous, steadfast widow honoring her wonderful, dead husband.

She wondered what Ellie would say if she told her about that insane night with Todd. And the pregnancy. The staid, straight Susan Carter gone mad. Would Ellie even believe her? Probably not. Susan still barely believed that night had happened.

Honey grumbled loudly from beside her chair. When Susan looked down at him he was sitting on his backside, food bowl in his teeth, front paws slicing frantically through the air.

“Oops, sorry, Honey. I forgot the time.”

She slipped out of her chair and headed for the refrigerator. She pulled out a small piece of cooked steak, removed the plastic wrap and dropped the meat into Honey’s waiting bowl. Honey set his bowl down with an audible sigh of doggie relief.

“You did the right thing choosing a dog over a man,” Ellie said, watching Honey happily gnaw on his dinner. “They are a hell of a lot more loyal.”

“Sometimes,” Susan said as she slipped back onto her chair. “And sometimes you come home to find them in bed with your best friend.”

Ellie smiled. “You want to know the truth? Honey’s a better snuggler than Martin ever was. I should get a dog. At least if they stray, you can have them neutered.”

Honey’s head swung toward Ellie, his ears straight up as he made a noise of considerable doggie alarm. He grabbed his steak and ran for the doggie door leading out to the backyard.

“He sure doesn’t miss much,” Ellie said, laughing, as she watched him hop through. “Which reminds me. Did I miss anything at work this afternoon?”

“Nothing that won’t keep until tomorrow.”

“You covered for me,” Ellie guessed.

“Just like you would have covered for me.”

“Except you’ll never need me to.”

“You never know, El.”

“Oh, I know. Even when we were teenagers and my dingbat of a dad and your ditzy mom were screaming mad and taking their frustrations out on both of us, you never let either of them get to you.”

“I’d had a lot of practice dodging insults by then.”

“That’s what I mean, Suz. You know how to tough this stuff out. And you’d sure as hell never move in with the wrong guy and let him treat you like dirt.”

Susan put her hand on her friend’s arm. “Neither would you. That’s why you came here when you found out about Martin’s cheating. You had too much respect for yourself to stay there another minute.”

Ellie sighed. “I get soused on a bottle of wine and somehow you manage to make me feel proud.”

“You should be proud. When you give your word you keep it—not like those bozos you’ve been all too ready to believe. One day you’re going to realize how great you are. When you do, I bet you find a guy who really appreciates you.”

“I’d like to, Suz. I really would. But there are just so few men out there who want to make a commitment and settle down. You were so lucky to find Paul.”

She released Ellie’s arm, realizing her friend had missed the message she had been trying to send. But that was Ellie. She heard the things she wanted to and ignored the rest. Susan suspected she probably did the same thing.

“So, what’s on for you tomorrow?” Ellie asked.

“I’m driving over to the other side of the Sound. One of the staff at Camp Long called to say he saw a red fox bring food to a vixen at a den site. He thinks she might have a new litter. Some good pictures of the pups would make a cute spread in next month’s issue.”

“I suppose you’ll be leaving at the crack of dawn?” Ellie asked.

“Oh, long before it cracks. Red foxes hunt at night. If I’m in position at first light, I might get lucky and catch the male returning to the den with a late meal.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Why afraid?” Susan asked.

“I don’t want to go back and move my stuff out of Martin’s apartment tonight. I was hoping I could stay here with you guys.”

“Not a problem if you don’t mind Honey jumping on the couch with you when I leave tomorrow morning. He hates being alone when I go out on an early shoot.”

“I never object to sharing my bed with a warm male,” Ellie said smiling.

“Then, that’s settled. There’s leftover chicken casserole in the refrigerator, twenty-three of our favorite romantic comedies on tape, and Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream in the freezer.”

Ellie laughed. “I keep getting my heart broken and you keep pulling the right medicine out of the Susan Carter doctor bag. Tell me, why am I always falling for the wrong guys?”

Susan knew Ellie didn’t really want to hear the honest answer to that question. The only time Susan had ever given her one, her candor had nearly cost her their friendship. Sometimes the most important part of being a friend was knowing when to keep your mouth shut.

“A gal can only choose from what comes swimming by,” Susan said as vaguely as she could.

“Which has to mean I’ve been fishing in a piranha pool,” Ellie said, with a sad shake of her head.

Actually, she wasn’t far off.

“At least I didn’t let go of my apartment this time,” Ellie said.

Yes, that was a good thing. Maybe Ellie was getting a little smarter. “You ready for me to heat up that casserole?”

“You can have the casserole,” Ellie said. “Just bring me the ice cream and a spoon.”

THE EARLY MORNING BREEZE was brisk and wet with mist. David hadn’t been able to feel his feet for the past half hour. But as he continued to watch Susan through his binoculars, she remained dead still, lying on her stomach within the photographer’s blind, high in the tree, her telephoto camera lens trained steadfastly on the fox hole on the other side of the clearing.

How she could lie so still he didn’t know.

They had told him up at the lodge that she’d been at the site since before dawn. She wore thick, black sweatpants, a black parka and black hiking boots. But there were no gloves on her hands and no hat to cover her ears. She had to be freezing, and her still position had to be wreaking havoc on her circulation.

“A dedicated professional,” Greg Hall, her editor, had described her, when David had called, identifying himself as a fan of the magazine. In truth, the magazine had been a favorite of David’s for some time. But to make his call credible, he had spent time the day before carefully looking through the local library’s copies of back issues.

Weaving a believable yarn when he needed to was part of a good investigator’s tools. But David soon found he had no reason to stretch the truth. The wildlife photographs packing the greatest punch had Susan’s name prominently displayed in the photo credits.

He’d discovered quite a bit more about her over the past few days from his other sources. Everything he’d learned had been unexpected.

David prided himself on being ready for anything, but since the moment he’d met this woman, she had been giving him one uncomfortable surprise after another. He prided himself on not judging his clients, but he’d sat in judgment on her and had let his unwanted reactions get in the way of his work. He prided himself on not jumping to conclusions, but he’d jumped to a conclusion about her—the wrong one.

David tried to tell himself that he’d made an honest mistake. Young widows whose husbands had been dead nearly three years didn’t normally still wear their wedding rings. But the reality was that he hadn’t acted like the professional he knew himself to be. His behavior reflected badly on him and on his family’s highly regarded firm.

He had thought about leaving a message on Susan’s answering machine at home. He had considered calling her at work. He had ultimately decided against both.

He was not a man for whom apologies came easily, but he did know that the only decent way to deliver an apology was in person. Of course, taking her case wouldn’t be appropriate, even if she still wanted to employ him—which he seriously doubted.

But his brother Richard would be available soon. And he would give her Richard’s card so she could call him.

David would see that she got the help she needed. He knew that was what he had to do to make this right.

But he had to wonder how long she could lie on that flat board, wet and chilled to the bone.

Finally, after what he figured had to be nearly three motionless hours, she started to move. He watched her progress through his binoculars. She first placed her camera in a protective case, then put the case in her backpack. Using a thick rope slung around the tree branch, she slowly lowered the backpack to the ground. Once the backpack was safely there, she began to snake backward toward the sturdy trunk of the tree.

He watched as she wrapped her body around the trunk. He was glad to see there were steel stakes in the bark for hand- and footholds. Still, he found himself tensing as she wobbled from side-to-side during her shaky descent.

She moved slowly. The circulation obviously hadn’t returned to her arms and legs after her long hours of immobility. She was a fool to be coming down before massaging her limbs. She could hurt herself—

His worst fears suddenly took shape before his eyes as her foot missed the final metal stake, her hand slipped off another and she fell to the forest floor.

He dropped the binoculars and took off at a run. The branches whipped against his arms and legs and stung his face. He paid them no heed as he hurried through the thick underbrush. He wasn’t that many yards away but the vegetation slowed his movements.

He was breathing hard when he crashed into the clearing where he’d seen her fall. She was lying on her back, her eyes were closed, her face white. He dropped to his knee beside her, probing for the artery in her neck.

His own blood pounded. He had to concentrate hard to feel her pulse. Finally, a slow rhythmic beat registered against his fingertips. Relief spread through his chest. He watched her eyelashes flutter, then open. A line of puzzlement drew her eyebrows together as she focused on his face.

“Where did you come from?” she asked.

He was happy to note the strength in her voice, but ignored her question as he ran his hands up and down her arms, checking for broken bones.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, flinching beneath his touch.

Once again he ignored her. But when he moved to grasp her right thigh, intending to check her legs, she suddenly sat up and swatted his hands away.

“Watch it, buster.”

David sat back on his heels as he inspected the color flowing into her cheeks. He held back a smile.

“You appear to be all right,” he said, managing to keep all emotion out of his voice.

She rolled onto her side and began to pull herself toward the tree she had so recently dropped from. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“Just a wild guess, but maybe because you fell out of a tree?”

“I didn’t fall. I deliberately let go. It was only a couple of feet, and I knew the soft moss between the Osmanthus would provide a soft landing.”

David didn’t know what Osmanthus was, although he suspected them to be the evergreen shrubs on either side of the mound they were on.

“Why did you let go?”

“Because I wanted to.” She latched onto the tree trunk and struggled to pull herself upright. Her wobbly extremities weren’t cooperating.

“Why didn’t you wait until you had some circulation back in your arms and legs before trying to get down?” he asked.

“Why is any of this your business?”

He was getting uncomfortable watching her determined but unsuccessful attempts to get to her feet. “If you rub your legs, you’ll be able to stand a lot sooner.”

“I know how to take care of myself, thank you. What are you even doing out here?”

“I’m an Eagle Scout trying to earn my merit badge,” he said in frustration. Hell, he was only trying to help.

She looked him straight in the eye in that arresting way of hers. “What, no little old ladies around to help across the street?”

“Only Boy Scouts get merit badges for helping little old ladies across streets. We Eagle Scouts have to contend with cantankerous photographers who insist on dropping out of trees.”

He hadn’t tried to keep the irritation out of his tone this time. He squatted beside her, grasped her legs, and proceeded to give her muscles a brisk massage, no longer caring whether she objected.

She didn’t bat his hands away this time. He could feel her eyes searching his averted face.

“When are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” she asked.

“When are you going to tell me why you didn’t prepare yourself properly to descend that tree?”

When she didn’t answer, he looked up to find that she was glaring at him. The flash of spirit looked good on her. He switched his attention back to her legs. They weren’t bad either, strong and supple beneath his hands. Rubbing them was something less than a chore. Still, he kept his mind strictly on the business of getting the circulation back into them. Well, almost strictly.

“That’s enough,” she said after a moment.

He released her legs and stood. But when he held out his hand to help her up, she ignored the offer and instead grabbed hold of the tree trunk. With what seemed like more will than strength, she pulled herself to her feet. But she wobbled and leaned heavily against the tree for support.

“You’re dizzy,” he said, suddenly understanding.

Her face had lost color, and she rested her head against the trunk. But she delivered her next words with strong, sweet sarcasm. “Such amazing insight.”

“You didn’t eat breakfast, did you,” he demanded more than asked. “I thought you were a professional. You should know better than to begin a long assignment without any food in your stomach.”

“First a private investigator, then an Eagle Scout, and now a mother hen,” she said. “Such versatility.”

“You’re probably dehydrated, as well,” he said, knowing there was no probably about it.

“Don’t you have a wife you could be annoying?”

Despite her continuing attempt to be tough, she looked absolutely terrible. “If I did have a wife, and she pulled some stupid stunt like this, I’d—”

He stopped his tirade as he watched her sink back to the forest floor. Closing the distance between them, he swept her collapsing body into his arms. Her head rolled onto his shoulder as a soft sigh escaped her lips. She had fainted.

Her face was as white as the delicate flowers spraying the front of her jacket. Her bangs were wet with morning mist, and a silky strand of golden-brown hair from her braid tickled his neck.

A full minute passed before David’s heart stopped skipping beats.

What a fool she was. And what a fool he was for giving a damn.

He twisted around and grabbed her backpack. The thing weighed a ton. How did this woman lug around such heavy stuff? He slung the backpack over his shoulder and started down the trail.

SUSAN SLOWLY OPENED her eyes to find herself lying beneath a spectacular blue spruce. The hazy mist of the overcast morning curled through the heavy branches. She didn’t recognize the beautiful tree. She felt a soft, wool fabric beneath her fingertips. She didn’t recognize that, either.

“Don’t try to get up,” David’s voice commanded from behind her.

His voice she did recognize. Her memory came back with a bang. She’d gotten dizzy while descending from the blind. She’d let go of the steel stakes to drop onto the soft mound of moss beneath the tree. While lying there, trying to get her equilibrium back, David Knight had suddenly appeared to pester her.

Pushing herself to a sitting position, she fought the immediate dizziness brought on by her abrupt movement. When the earth and sky finally resumed their correct positions, she discovered that the red plaid blanket beneath her was next to a brown dirt road.

“I told you not to get up,” David said, scowling at her. He stood a few feet away, beside a silver Ford truck with an F250 logo on the side. He was pouring steaming, dark liquid from a thermos into a cup.

She glanced around her. This certainly wasn’t the clearing with the fox den. This place didn’t look familiar at all, and neither did that silver truck.

“How did I get here?” she asked.

He put the thermos down on the truckbed and walked toward her, carrying the cup. “You fainted.”

Had she? Odd. She’d never fainted before in her life. But maybe not so surprising. She had certainly been dizzy enough.

“You carried me here?”

He reached her, dropped to a squat and held out the cup. “Drink this.”

One whiff told her that he was offering her hot chocolate. She shook her head and leaned back. “No, thanks.”

He scowled at her. “If you don’t get something in your stomach soon, you’ll faint again.”

She scowled back. “The last thing I need is something in my stomach.”

He held out the cup again. “Trust me. You’ll feel better.”

“Trust me. I’ll puke.”

He pulled back the cup and regarded her closely. For a moment she could have sworn she saw something like discomfort flash across his face. But then his frown was back and she figured she was imagining things.

“Morning sickness?” he asked.

She nodded. “Nothing passes these lips until noon, and sometimes even then it has a round-trip ticket.”

He plopped down on the blanket beside her. “So that’s why you haven’t eaten.”

“And I had begun to think you’d lost all your detective skills.”

He sent her another scowl before turning his head away to stare at the line of trees along the dirt road. He was good at that scowling thing. Must have had a lot of practice.

As he sipped the hot chocolate he’d poured for her, she tested out her limbs and found them to be a little tender but otherwise okay. She looked around once again, trying to get her bearings. Where was east, west? Would have been a lot easier to determine if the sun were out. But then, it so rarely was.

“How far are we from where I was shooting?” she asked.

“About a mile and a half. If you’re worried about your camera, I put your backpack in the truck.”

A mile and a half. That was a long way to carry a one-hundred fifteen pound woman and forty pounds of her camera equipment. Looked as though his muscles weren’t just for show.

His concern for her welfare actually seemed genuine. He’d even been thoughtful enough to bring along her equipment. Maybe there was a heart hidden somewhere inside that hard chest, after all.

She studied the bold lines of his profile. Nice, straight, well-shaped nose. Full, well-defined lips. Not bad, actually. Maybe not a handsome face, but definitely not quite as forbidding as her first impression.

He turned his head and his eyes met hers.

“Feeling any better?”

“Some,” she admitted. “Thanks for being concerned about me.”

He looked quickly away. “Forget it.”

He was uncomfortable with her thanking him. What had she done to rub this man the wrong way?

“Time you answered my question,” she said, happy to hear herself sounding calm, reasonable. “What are you doing here?”