Baby On The Run. Kate Little
of coffee and carried them into the living room so that Carey could check on the baby.
Lindsay was still sleeping soundly in her makeshift bed. Carey sat down on the floor next to her and stared into the fire. Ben put another log on the burning pile and stirred up the embers until the fire flared up, bright and strong.
He stretched out on the floor not too far from her. Leaning on one arm, he sipped his coffee and stared into the hearth.
Carey had been watching the fire, but now, could hardly take her eyes off her host. He looked so long and lean, so relaxed…and sexy. She hugged her knees to her chest and took a bracing sip of her coffee.
“Have you lived around here long?” Her voice came out in a croak and she hoped he didn’t notice.
Okay, so she didn’t sound like the most witty conversationalist, but she was eager to break the heavy silence that had fallen between them.
“I’ve lived here most of my life. I had two years in the navy and then went to college in North Carolina. I lived down there for a while. But finally, I came back to Maine.”
“All those mild winters start to wear on you?”
A half smile played about the corners of his mouth. A dimple creased his cheek and tiny lines fanned out at the corners of his eyes. She hadn’t noticed that before.
“That was part of it. No challenge. And it never felt like Christmas.”
Carey had spent the holidays in the Caribbean once. Her late husband’s idea. Ben was right. It hadn’t felt like Christmas at all.
“I came back three years ago. My father was sick and my folks needed my help.”
She wasn’t surprised. He seemed like the type who would do the right thing. Put aside his own needs to help someone he loved.
“When did he pass away?” she asked quietly.
“About a year after I returned.” She heard the note of loss in his voice and it struck a chord within her. That was something else they had in common.
“But you stayed.”
He shrugged. “It’s a small town, but I guess it suits me. For now, anyway.”
Maybe with his father gone, his mother and sister relied on him even more. But she sensed he was too private—or too modest—to admit it.
“I get to be the star of the Greenbriar police force,” he added, a sparkle returning to his eyes.
“So I’ve heard.” She met his glance and smiled. She didn’t mean to flirt with him…but it suddenly felt as if she was.
“What about you?” he asked curiously.
The light moment was suddenly gone. She pulled back into herself like a turtle retreating into its shell.
“You said you were headed to Portland. Where are you coming from?”
She couldn’t stray too far from the truth. Her car had Vermont plates. Surely he’d noticed. He was a policeman. But she did need to protect herself, in case those who pursued her ever found this man and asked him questions.
“Burlington.” She gave the name of a town miles on the opposite side of the state from Blue Lake. Then, realizing that a route from Burlington to Portland wouldn’t have taken her through this area, she added, “I went up to Freeport to visit a relative. A great-aunt. She… She wanted to see the baby.”
Carey smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to cover a sudden fit of nerves.
“So your friends in Portland, are they expecting you for Christmas?”
Carey shrugged. “More or less. I’m really going there for a job. They own a store and need some help. Someone they can trust.”
Did she have to add that last embellishment? Keep it simple, Carey. That was the trick to getting away with all these fabrications.
Stick to your story. If anyone asked—she was going to Portland because a friend had offered her a job in his store, a clothing store. Period.
Ben sipped his coffee. She hoped he was finished with his questions. Under other circumstances, having such an attractive man asking all these questions about her would have been a real ego boost. Tonight it was nerve-racking.
“What sort of work do you do?”
She shrugged. “I’ve tried just about everything. I’ve been a waitress, a cabdriver, a receptionist, a dog walker…I’ve worked in department stores. I’ve worked in a flower shop. I liked that, but my allergies got to me. I’ve handed out free samples in supermarkets. Once I had to dress up as a giant cookie, in a shopping mall…” She paused. “Do you really want to hear more?”
“Is there more?” He smiled, looking impressed.
“More than I want to remember.” She paused, not knowing how much private information she wanted to disclose. Or how honest she dared to be with him about her real history. “I took some of those jobs working my way through college. I was studying literature. But I really wanted to be an actress. I went to New York for a while and did all the cattle-call auditions. That sort of thing. It didn’t work out for me, so I went back home.”
He gave her a thoughtful look. “I’m sure it’s a tough business. Very competitive.”
“Yes, it was. I don’t think I was thick-skinned enough. Or maybe, I lacked in the ambition department.”
He considered her words for a moment. “You’re definitely not lacking in the looks department.”
His gaze met hers and held it. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks and hoped he didn’t notice. Finally, she looked away, staring at the fire again.
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s just the truth.”
Carey felt self-conscious. The way he was looking at her made heat rise to her cheeks. She hoped he thought it was just the fire.
“So, you went back home. Where is that?” he prodded.
She started to say, “Cleveland,” then caught herself.
“Scranton, Pennsylvania. Just outside of the city actually,” she embellished. “A small town called Wilkes Barre.”
“You grew up there?” he asked.
She nodded and forced a smile. She felt her heart beating so loudly, she was almost certain he could hear it. He was a policeman. Couldn’t he tell that everything she’d told him was a bald-faced lie? Well, maybe not everything…but enough of it.
She hated living like this and doubly hated the man who had brought her to this point, a point as low as he was himself. She knew it was wrong to hate another person. To wish them ill. But Quinn…
He wasn’t even a person. He was a heartless, conscienceless…monster.
She looked over at Ben, at his expression—kind, serious, interested. She had the sudden, insane urge to tell him everything. How she had been so vulnerable and easily exploited after Tom died. So naive and easily taken in and now, how she’d found herself stuck in a nightmare. One that would never end.
Would he understand? Would he try to turn her in…or try to help her?
“You look…upset. Am I asking too many questions?” His gaze found hers and held it. “I’m sorry. A policeman’s habit.”
The urge to pour out her heart nearly overwhelmed her. Then suddenly, she stepped back from the edge and got control of herself.
“It’s okay. I’m just tired… My husband died a little over a year ago. The holidays are hard.”
That wasn’t entirely a lie. Though if Tom were still alive Carey doubted they would still be married. After