Читать книгу Babes In Arms - Sara Orwig - Страница 10

Three

Katherine’s heart lurched. She had expected him to quiz her more when she first climbed into the pickup with him. But gradually, as the hours passed, she had stopped worrying. Sitting attentive and still, he was waiting for her answer. Awareness that he was a lawman made her blood run cold. As far as she knew, Sloan had not gone to the police to get her back, but that could change at any time.

Stalling for a moment while she decided how to answer, she sipped ice water and wiped the corners of her mouth with her fingers, staring down at her plate. “I’m divorced now, but I had an abusive husband.”

“If you’re divorced, why do you still fear him?”

Lies swirled in her mind, stories that might satisfy Colin, but one look into his alert brown eyes and she decided to tell him the truth. “I’m pregnant and my ex-husband wants me back.”

“He wants his baby?”

“It’s my baby,” Katherine replied fiercely, and then realized how she had snapped her answer at him. “I’ll be gone tomorrow, so why don’t we just leave it at that,” she suggested, holding her breath and praying he would stop questioning her.

“Look, you had three pros chasing you,” Colin replied with an obvious note of impatience in his tone. “That’s big muscle with money and power behind it. I’ve given you shelter and run a risk. I’d like to know just how big a risk I’m taking here. I’m not going to run and call your ex-husband, but I want to know what I’m up against as long as I have you under my roof.”

“It shouldn’t matter. I’ll be gone as soon as the snow stops, and they can’t get to us until it stops.”

“Katherine, I can imagine all sorts of scenarios. If you know about someone’s million-dollar fraud, if you know where a body is hidden—lots of reasons that even after you are gone, those guys might come after me. They might want to know what you told me.”

“Oh, no! Oh, it’s not anything like that. I have an abusive husband who wants me back badly.” She could see the doubt cloud his eyes, and once again she debated what to say. Watching orange flames curl around logs, she bit her lower lip. “My name didn’t mean anything to you, did it?”

“Katherine Manchester.” He shook his head. “No. Should it?”

“My ex-husband is Sloan Manchester,” she answered cautiously.

The name struck a chord, and Colin tried to remember where he had heard it. “That sounds familiar,” he said and memory stirred. Manchester Oil. “Louisiana. He’s a political candidate. Oil and big business.”

“That’s right,” Katherine said with resignation. “His father is Tyson Manchester of Manchester Oil. There are politicians who want Sloan to run for governor of Louisiana.”

“I wouldn’t think a man running for governor could risk having his ex-wife stalked, much less gamble on taking you back against your will. There’s a law against that.”

“He expects them to get me and take me back without anyone knowing.”

“Go to the press. Let me take you to the police.”

“No!” She pushed back the chair, her eyes going wide and color draining from her face as she stood.

Katherine seemed ready to bolt in spite of the storm. Colin stood and reached out to take her shoulders. She flinched and jumped away from him, her hands going up to shield herself.

“Hey, hey!” he said in a gentle voice, holding up his hands. “Calm down, Katherine. I swear I won’t hurt you.”

She backed away from him, biting her lower lip, and he wondered what kind of monster Sloan Manchester must be.

“Sit down and we’ll talk. Just relax. I won’t call the police if you don’t want me to,” he said, keeping his voice low, trying to bank his anger.

Her ex-husband was running for governor while Katherine was sitting in Colin’s kitchen, six months pregnant with the man’s baby. He was sheltering a woman on the run from one of the most powerful men in the country. Colin wondered what he had gotten himself into. He should have left her alone, he told himself. Just left her the hell alone.

“As soon as the storm abates, I’ll be out of your life,” she said quickly.

“Let’s sit down. Want to sit in front of the fire? I can do the dishes later.”

She nodded, but he noticed she didn’t make a move toward the chairs near the fire. She stood waiting, as if frightened to step in front of him. He moved around the table and went to put another log on the fire. As the wood crackled and popped, he closed the screen and turned to face her.

Looking like a lost child, the bulky purple sweater covering her, Katherine sat in a wing chair with her legs curled up beneath her.

“Are you really divorced?”

“Yes. At the time I asked for the divorce, Sloan had another woman in his life.” She looked down at her hands in her lap while Colin listened. He noticed her nails were neatly clipped and she had long, slender fingers. “Sloan wasn’t in the public light then. I asked for the divorce at the right time and he said yes. I got the divorce as quickly as possible. He regretted it almost instantly. It seems he wants what he can’t have,” she added bitterly.

“I gave up any money from him, but I had a little money left from savings and I took that with me. At the time of the divorce Sloan’s parents were in Europe, or his father would have stopped him from getting the divorce. His father had political ambitions for Sloan long ago.”

His back warmed by the fire, Colin moved to a wing chair, turning it to face her. If she was telling him the truth, she shouldn’t be so frightened and she should go to the police and get help.

“Katherine,” he said gently, fighting the urge to touch her lightly, jamming his hands into his pockets instead while fire heated his side. “If Sloan has given you a divorce, he can’t force you to come back.”

A look of pain crossed her features and was gone.

“He’s a powerful man and his father is as well. They would bribe and pressure people to get what they want. He has friends in high places, friends at court. He’s bribed people before to get what he wants in business.”

“Then he sure as hell shouldn’t be elected governor.”

Her expression was pained. “I can’t fight him. He would turn everything against me.”

“It won’t look good to have it come out that he’s abusive or that he’s trying to force you to return. If those thugs following you take you by force, that’s kidnapping.”

She faced him with a steady gaze. “My father was sent to prison for embezzlement I have bad blood in my family, as Sloan has so often reminded me. We’re Old South with relatives who were in the Confederacy, so I was acceptable to his parents and in certain social circles in New Orleans, but Sloan has said he can make me look like the most evil bitch from a corrupt family. Now I have the baby to consider.”

As Colin swore softly, Katherine bit her lip and looked down, rubbing her arms again. He reached out to tilt her chin up, but the moment he stretched his hand out and lightly touched her, she flinched and jerked away. He put his hands into his pockets again.

“Katherine, I will never hit you,” he said quietly, silently cursing Sloan Manchester. “I have never in my life hit a woman. Not even in the line of duty.”

Her eyes widened as she stared at him and the fear dissipated in her expression. She bit her lip. “It’s an automatic reaction.”

He wanted to reach for her, to draw her into his arms and just hold her and reassure her that she was safe. The cynical side of him gave a silent laugh. Sure, Whitefeather, safe as a mouse in a building with a cat. Those three guys had not given up their hunt. The snow might slow them, but eventually they would find out who drove a blue pickup and where he lived. And they might do it in spite of the storm.

What was it about this woman that had brought out the protective instincts in him from the first moment he had seen her? She was almost as tall as he was, taller than nearly all the women he had ever known. She was independent, resourceful and capable of caring for herself. Capable of eluding the three hoods after her, so why did he have all these protective feelings on full throttle? And if she didn’t stir his protective instincts, she stirred his desire, which should have been even more unlikely in her garish makeup and baggy clothing. The fuzzy sweater looked like a molting bear. And she had to be six months pregnant!

Colin rubbed the back of his neck. “I think some lawmen I know would listen to your story.”

She shook her head. “Sloan’s got powerful friends. You’d be surprised what he can do. I used to think I could find protection from his brutality, but everyone covered for him.”

“He might not be so powerful here.”

“The first thing you know, I’d be whisked right back to Louisiana and placed in an institution and the public would be told I’m ill or mentally unbalanced. Sloan would manage it. I don’t want to go to the police.”

“All right, no police, but I think you’re making a mistake.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “I know what’s happened in the past when I’ve tried to get help.”

“How do you think you’ll get away from him?”

“I’m going to California where I have a friend who will help me. Sloan won’t find me there. It’s a matter of time. Once Sloan is defeated or elected, he’ll forget about me. If he’s defeated, it won’t help to get me back. If he’s elected without me, he won’t care what I do. Right now he wants me at his side. He thinks it will give the proper image for him. And he’s annoyed he can no longer control me.”

“Are you really divorced from him?”

“I’m telling you the truth. Yes, I am.”

“If you’re divorced, it’s a matter of public record and the reporters should have already picked up on his marital status.”

“He has contacts at newspapers and he can give them a story about my mental condition. It’s still early enough that he’s not in the limelight yet.”

Colin Whitefeather’s expression was a thundercloud that made her feel like running.

“I didn’t mean to bring trouble down on you and I’ll be gone tomorrow,” she said swiftly, trying to appease his anger. “Then those men won’t bother you.” Her pulse skittered as she watched him. He looked fierce and angry, and she had no doubts about his strength.

“They’ll find out who drives a blue pickup in this area.” The moment Colin said the words, she flinched as if he had struck her. “They can’t find us tonight. I can guarantee you that.” His gaze flicked over her figure again. “When’s the baby due? About March or April?”

“No. Actually, the due date is next week.”

“Next week! You don’t look that far along,” he said bluntly.

“That’s probably because of my height.”

He barely heard her answer. Anger rose in him, that she was being so careless about the coming event. “You shouldn’t be on the run. You need to be with relatives or a friend. You need to have a hospital lined up and not be racing across country with three goons chasing you.” As a cop, he had seen too much death and destruction. He had reached a point where he treasured birth and life, feeling a quiet joy with every foal or calf dropped on his place. He wanted to shake some sense into the woman, but the last thing this woman needed was to be shaken. She needed a loving husband’s strong arms and support. “Where’s your mother?”

“She died a year ago. I don’t have any family. But I’ll be all right. When the time comes, I’ll go to a hospital,” she answered stubbornly.

“Have you even seen a doctor?”

“Yes, I have regularly. I go to clinics in cities where I’ve traveled.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Damn, your baby’s due—you’re not carrying any clothing except whatever you have stuffed in your big purse. What will you do for diapers and formula? You know if those men are following you, they’ll take you and the baby back to Louisiana.”

She raised her chin and defiance filled her eyes. “They can’t steal a baby out of a hospital. I’ll manage. I had hoped to get to California before the delivery. This snowstorm has complicated my life. And I thought I had lost the men until this morning. I had planned to get a plane today in Tulsa, to Denver, and from Denver to San Francisco. I thought I would be in California tonight.”

“That’s cutting it damned close. You have a friend there?”

“Yes, Paula Kurczak, and she knows about the baby. Paula has a little girl and she still has her baby things.”

“Don’t you know that babies don’t always arrive on the exact scheduled date?” He was fighting to bank his exasperation with her. He should stop grilling her, but he was shocked at her lack of preparation for the baby.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, a dimple appearing in her cheek, her white teeth flashing, and he felt as if all the warmth of the room had drawn itself into her smile. In spite of her ill-fitting clothes and garish makeup, she looked adorable, and he could understand why the ex-husband wanted her back.

“I’ll be all right. And my baby will be all right.”

“Have you had an ultrasound? Do you know whether you’re having a boy or a girl?”

“Yes and no. I did have an ultrasound and everything was fine, but I told them I wanted to be surprised, so I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

He stared at her in consternation. One week until her due date. “When this storm stops, if you won’t go to the police, I’ll drive you to Tulsa and put you on the plane to California.”

“That would be nice of you,” she said in a subdued voice.

“Do you want to call your friend in California?”

“Paula knows I’ll be there some time this week. I told her I would call from the airport when I land.”

He wondered whether there really was a friend in California, yet there was no big reason to lie to him. He barely knew the woman. He shouldn’t care. One week until her delivery date. That revelation gave him more jitters than the thugs had. Babies had their own schedules.

“Want a refill of hot chocolate? There’s more on the stove,” he said, trying to defuse the moment and calm his own nerves.

“Yes, that tasted good.”

She followed him into the kitchen, clearing the table while he heated the milk, pouring it into the cups and then returning to the fire. With a graceful crossing of her long legs, Katherine sank to the floor with him and placed her cup on the coffee table.

“What about your car?” he asked. “It’s still parked in Stillwater.”

“That was a rental car. I paid cash and I only owe them for today. I can mail them the money. I have fake identification, so they can’t trace it easily. I called the car agency from a pay phone in a restaurant and told them where to find the car.”

He nodded. “Where did you meet Sloan?”

“I was a senior in high school. He was a star player on the Louisiana State basketball team and I was dazzled by him when we started dating. We were married a year later, when I was a freshman in college. I’m twenty-three now.”

Another surprise, Colin thought, deciding it was the makeup and the severe hairstyle and owlish glasses that made her look older. He started to reach up to remove her glasses, remembered her fear and paused, his hand in the air.

“May I?” he asked and she nodded, looking wary and uncertain. He noticed her quick intake of breath as his fingers brushed her temple and he removed the glasses. He put them on and looked through plain glass.

“I was trying to disguise myself. It’s difficult to hide, when you’re a five-foot-nine woman.”

Colin placed the glasses on the table. “If you married when you were a freshman, you stayed with him a while.”

Her face flushed and she rubbed her fingers along the edge of the table. “It’s hard to break away, and at first I thought things might change.”

“That wasn’t any of my business. Sorry.”

“I don’t mind your asking anything. Sloan was so spectacular, a star athlete, successful, popular, handsome, wealthy, powerful. Too often he made me feel as if I were the one who was at fault or inadequate,” she said quietly.

“Do you have any proof of his abuse, if he takes you back to court?”

She shook her head. “No. He bribed and paid off people, and if he didn’t his father did.”

“There ought to be someone he couldn’t get to,” Colin said, feeling a growing anger for a man he had never met. “I can check into it if you’d like.”

“No!” Her eyes were filled with unmistakable fright. “Please, don’t do that. Sloan can be relentless. I don’t want anyone hurt because of me and it would just enrage him even more if he learned someone was checking on him.”

“I am not afraid of Sloan Manchester,” Colin said quietly, not making an effort to hide his anger.

“Please promise me you won’t start asking questions in Louisiana.”

He knew he was worrying her, so he nodded. “I promise. I not only won’t hit you, Katherine, I will never knowingly hurt you.”

Her eyes widened with surprise, a feeling that mirrored his own at himself. The words were out without thought and his statement suggested more than he intended. His promise implied a relationship, something he had no intention of developing with her.

“You know what I mean,” he said offhandedly, trying to make light of his promise.

She gave him a half smile, her lips curving, a warmth returning to her features, which made his breath catch. His gaze went over her and he forgot about her past and Sloan Manchester. He felt drawn to her, wanting to know her better, wishing he could keep her safe and wondering again at his reaction. What did she really look like without the makeup and with her hair down? His curiosity was rampant as he studied her.

“Can I take down your hair?” he asked, feeling absurd, yet not wanting to frighten her. He suspected the last time he had asked a female a question like that he had been ten years old.

Her eyes seemed to widen as she stared at him and nodded. He reached out carefully with one hand to extract pins, going slowly and trying to avoid even the slightest pull of her hair, as he thought a man could get lost forever in the cool green of her eyes.

As Colin Whitefeather stretched out his hand, Katherine’s heart beat with fright and she willed herself to sit still, thinking the first moment he made a move other than to take down her hair, she would put more distance between them. And suppose he wanted her? This afternoon she had placed herself at his mercy and tonight she might have to pay the consequences, because she couldn’t run in this storm.

Katherine felt his fingers brush her head, tug so gently on her hair, stirring strange tingles that she was unaccustomed to feeling. Long ago Sloan had killed all physical yearnings toward him. Sex was a dreaded event and she loathed Sloan’s touch. Once she started dating Sloan, there had never been another man in her life and she was unaccustomed to anyone wanting to touch her hair.

Her heart thudded with fear and her mouth felt dry while she watched Colin, staring into unfathomable dark eyes that gave no hint as to what he was thinking. His gaze shifted to her hair again as he pulled away another pin and placed it carefully on the table. He was slow and deliberate, barely touching her, not moving an inch closer, and gradually her racing heart slowed to a normal beat.

She began to calm, studying him, realizing his eyes were thickly lashed, his features almost too rugged to be called handsome. His skin was dark, a faint scar visible along his jaw now that she sat close to him and really looked at him.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.

“I wanted to see what you look like with your hair down.” His voice was quiet and deep and reassuring. She couldn’t recall a moment like this in her entire marriage to Sloan.

She wished she could make some light comment about her skittishness, yet she couldn’t. All afternoon and evening there had been moments when the slightest move on Colin Whitefeather’s part would set her heart pounding with apprehension, and it was difficult now to relax. There was no way to forget he was a big, powerful man. And one used to wielding his authority. He threaded his fingers through her hair, combing gently with his big hands. The faint tugs tingled and stirred a strange yearning in her while her gaze locked with his.

Watching her, taking great care, Colin slowly combed free her hair until the mass of it tumbled over her shoulders down to her waist. “Your hair is long,” he said in a husky voice, realizing the hints of beauty he had seen earlier were correct. Her hair was a silken cascade that gave her an earthy, touchable look. No practical, sensible hair here, but a mass of vibrant hair that conjured up erotic images of it spilling over her naked body.

“This isn’t the real color,” she admitted, touching a lock while he continued to comb his fingers through it.

“It’s red, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I colored it, trying to hide from the men Sloan sent after me. It was useless.”

“They’re pros and disguises won’t do you much good. You’re right—you’re too tall to really hide from them.”

She closed her eyes, feeling as if she had received a blow to her midsection. Was she that obvious?

“Katherine, turn around and I’ll give your shoulders a massage that will help you relax,” he said gently, trying to get the erotic images out of his mind.

Katherine studied him, gazing into dark eyes that stared back openly, waiting patiently, something she had never known Sloan to do. “Thanks, but that’s all right.”

“Turn around,” he said gently. “You should get used to someone being nice to you.”

Colin received another faint half smile as Katherine turned around. Feeling as if he were handling fragile crystal, he reached out carefully and lifted the heavy curtain of hair. She reached up and pulled it all over her right shoulder.

With care he touched her shoulders lightly. She stiffened, drawing a swift breath that he heard and he made his touch even lighter, leaning close to her ear. “I promised you, I won’t ever hurt you. Trust me. Pretend it’s your friend in California rubbing your shoulders,” Colin whispered, damning Sloan Manchester and determined to erase her fear if only for a few minutes.

Katherine shivered, hating his touch, frightened, feeling vulnerable, remembering the early days with Sloan, when he had started out touching her and acting friendly and then suddenly he had been cursing her and hurting her. Remembering too clearly, she gasped and stiffened. His hands stilled instantly.

“Shh, Katherine. It’s all right. You’re damn tense. I promised I won’t hurt you,” he whispered as his hands moved again, lightly massaging muscles that she guessed were probably in knots. He rubbed so faintly across her shoulders, keeping his touch impersonal. As he began to massage more strongly, she breathed deeply. Gradually her fear diminished, until finally it was gone. She relaxed, closing her eyes, trusting him and wondering if she would be disappointed.

“I trust you, Colin Whitefeather,” she whispered more to herself than him. “Don’t betray my trust, because it has been more years than I can remember since I trusted a man.”

Colin heard her mumbling and leaned forward and caught the last of her words. His heart lurched and he wanted to cradle her in his arms and tell her she was safe. And he couldn’t. If he did, he would be lying through his teeth to her. She would have his protection, probably for less than twenty-four hours. And he couldn’t offer her anything more than protection while she was under his roof.

She slanted him a look over her shoulder and his pulse jumped at the curiosity in her green eyes and the faint smile that curved her lips. “You said you’re not married. You must date someone.”

While they studied each other, he shook his head. Her eyes were thickly lashed, the dark red lashes curving. For the first time he realized she wasn’t wearing mascara on them. She had made her brows thicker, covered her face in thick makeup that was dark beneath her eyes, but her lashes were without the goop she had on her face. He wanted to take his handkerchief and wipe it all away, but he didn’t want to alarm her again.

“No. I haven’t wanted to date since Dana’s death.”

“How long ago?”

“Two years, five months and about ten days.”

She twisted around to stare at him. With the movement, her hair swirled across her back. “You must have loved her very much,” she said with wonder in her voice.

“I did.”

“I’m sorry, Colin.”

It was the first time she had called him by his first name and a little tingle of awareness startled him.

She turned around to let him continue the massage. He parted her hair, placing half over one shoulder and half over the other—out of the way of his hands. It left a triangle of flesh bare along her nape and he stared at the short locks curling above her collar, the satiny skin that he longed to brush with his fingers. The shorter hair at the nape of her neck was red. As he began to massage, Katherine’s shoulders felt delicate, and Colin realized the baggy clothes hid a slender figure because he could feel her shoulder blades through the fuzzy sweater.

“How will you support this baby?”

“I’m studying accounting. I’m taking correspondence courses from Louisiana State. I want to eventually get a degree in accounting.”

They sat in silence until finally she turned and scooted away from him, smiling at him. “Thank you. That was relaxing.”

She kicked off her shoes and turned to lean back on her arms and stretch out her long legs, placing her feet in front of the fire. Her tummy looked like a small round ball and he was still amazed she was due in a week.

“You said you’ve seen doctors. Did they tell you that you’ll have a small baby?”

“The last doctor said about six pounds.”

“You don’t look ready to deliver.”

“So how do you know so much about it?” she asked, tilting her head to study him.

“I don’t. I’ve just seen women and worked with women who are pregnant. I’ve delivered two babies.”

“My goodness!” she exclaimed, flashing him a dazzling, dimpled smile that made his heart race. “I’m in good hands then, if this baby decides not to follow the schedule.”

“Don’t even say it. I was terrified both times. One was a woman caught in a flooded area and another was a woman in a car on the way to the hospital. Somewhere there’s a little Colin named after me because of my midwifery.”

She laughed, and he wished he could keep her smiling all evening. Sitting on the floor near her feet, he shifted around to face her, locking his arms around his knees with his back to the dying fire. “Feet cold? I can place another log on the fire.”

“No need. This is warming my feet.”

“What would happen if you called the hometown papers and let them know about the gubernatorial candidate?” he asked. Immediately the shuttered look returned to her eyes.

“I tried that long ago. He’s got control of his press. He has good friends there.”

“He can’t have good friends at every Louisiana paper. Keep trying.”