Conception Cover-Up. Karen Barrett Lawton
so.”
The line of her thought came through loud and clear, irritating the hell out of him. “I’m not in any shape to attack you.”
“Go to bed, Caleb.”
Since nothing he said seemed to convince her, he decided to give in gracefully. “Good night, Shannon, and thanks again.”
He took a step. His bad ankle gave out on him and he lost his balance.
“Watch out!” Shannon exclaimed, moving to catch him.
His hand caught hers, and they both went down on the floor in a tangle. Though the patterned area rug cushioned the fall to some extent, pain rocketed through him.
“Caleb! Are you all right?”
Registering the concern in her voice, Caleb opened his eyes and looked straight into the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. They reminded him of a forest at sunset, when the trees cast dark-green shadows and the sun dappled the forest floor with gold. He gazed into them, knowing if he looked long enough, he could uncover the secrets hidden in their mysterious depths.
“Caleb? Did you hurt yourself?” Shannon ran her hands along his bare torso, skimming over his chest and his ribs, as if looking for injury.
The touch of her hands on his body caused sensations he knew a man in his condition shouldn’t be feeling. He took a deep breath, trying to slow the hot blood that raced through his veins.
It didn’t work.
The quilt had been torn away when he fell, and the soft denim of her jeans rubbed against his lower body, causing an erotic friction that lit a fire in his loins. A man would have to be made of stone to ignore the luscious curves pressed against him, the warm breath mixing with his, the lush lips close enough to kiss.
“Would you please say something?” she prodded.
The exasperated plea got his attention. He smiled wryly. “You’re going to have to get off me,” he said, though he’d never wanted anything less in his life.
She flushed, then pushed herself up till she stood above him. Her eyes widened and she swung around so her back was to him. “I thought you were in shock,” she accused.
He was, he thought. In shock because he wanted a woman—one he hadn’t known even existed until a couple of hours ago—so much that he’d forgotten his injuries and his circumstances. He suspected Shannon Garrett could make him forget his own name.
“Caleb? Did you want some help up or should I just make you a bed on the floor?”
Caleb grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around his hips, wondering what she’d do if he took her up on her somewhat provocative offer. With regret he held out his hand. “You can turn around now.”
She pulled him up but wouldn’t quite look at him. “I think I can scare up some sweats that might fit you.” She turned and walked to the bedroom.
He followed at a slower speed, favoring his left ankle. Entering the room, he found Shannon bent over, digging through the bottom drawer of a large oak dresser, presenting him with the sight of her denim-clad, nicely rounded backside. He groaned inwardly.
She stood up and turned to face him before he could hide his expression. She shot a glare at him that should have disintegrated him on the spot and tossed a pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt onto the bed. “Here, these should fit you.”
The worn but clean outfit boasted a San José State logo and certainly looked big enough for him. But he didn’t really like the idea of dressing in another man’s clothes. She’d already tarred him with the same brush as her reckless husband. The fact that she still had the clothes three years later surprised him.
He looked at her and saw she’d been studying him.
“Those aren’t Tony’s,” she said quietly. “They belonged to my father. He was a professor at San José State for thirty-five years. He and my mother retired to Northern California last year.”
He didn’t know whether to be relieved or not by the information. On the one hand he was glad they hadn’t belonged to her husband. But if they had, and she’d offered them, then it would have shown she was ready to move on with her life.
Whoa! Stop right there, he ordered himself. What difference did it make to him if a woman he hardly knew got over her dead husband? As soon as he could, he was out of here. He had to find Brandon and make sure the Driscoe operation was shut down.
“I’ll let you get changed. Good night,” Shannon said, turning to leave.
He caught her arm as she passed. “Wait.”
Despite her thick sweater, Caleb felt the heat of her body and smelled the subtle fragrance of her skin. There was something about this woman that called to him. Something that made her achingly familiar, instead of the stranger she was.
A gust of wind sent rain clattering against the windows.
Shannon’s gaze skittered away from his, focusing on the dark square framing the black night. “Storm’s picking up again.”
She could say that again, he thought wryly. “Shannon.”
Eyes shadowed by thick dark lashes gazed warily up at his face. “Is there something else you need?”
You. The answer was so definite in his mind it shocked him. How could that be, when he barely knew her? How could he need a stranger?
He looked at her face, so beautiful, so wary, so unwilling to trust. And who could blame her? He might not have the same reckless bent as her husband, but he did have a job to do. The Driscoe brothers had been showering cocaine on the local kids like it was snow. They were vicious dangerous criminals. And he wasn’t going to stop until they were in prison.
“Caleb? Are you all right? Is your head hurting again?”
“A little,” Caleb said, though the pounding seemed relentless. She’d done enough for him. “Nothing that a bit of sleep won’t cure.”
“I’ll just get some things, then you can go to bed. But only for a while. If you do have a concussion—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. He really had to get her out of there. “I’ve had concussions before. This was just a little knock on the head.”
She didn’t look convinced. She walked over to the closet and grabbed a nightgown and robe off a hook. Then she paused at the door. “Well, good night, then.” Her voice was a little husky. She cleared her throat. “I put a jug of water in the bathroom, since the pump’s not working right now. You’ll find towels in the cabinet over the toilet and a new toothbrush in the one over the sink. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks,” he told her. “Good night.”
He waited until she left the room, then sat down on the bed, feeling every ache and pain…unable to deny that the biggest ache was for Shannon.
It was going to be a long night.
THE CLOCK CHIMED twelve times. Lying on the couch, Shannon counted every one. Just as she’d done at nine, ten and eleven. She twisted to lie on her side, facing the fireplace. Behind the screen, the flames licked at the log she’d added thirty minutes before. She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax, but she couldn’t get her guest out of her mind.
She told herself she was foolish. He was a stranger. She knew nothing about him, except what he’d told her. Lies. She was sure of it, though she couldn’t figure out why he’d thought lying was necessary. What could a man like Caleb have to hide?
Hurt, bleeding, in pain, he’d trudged through a landslide and a rainstorm to land on her doorstep. Bandaged, yet still in pain, he’d insisted on leaving. To find his friend, he’d said. Because he’d had no choice but to stay, he’d settled down to lend her a sympathetic ear.
Shannon thought about