Conception Cover-Up

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 Caleb’s concern for his friend. More than once during the evening he’d looked out the window at the unceasing rain, his frustration apparent. She felt bad about having to refuse him transportation. And she didn’t like the idea of leaving some poor man out there exposed to the elements. She prayed he’d found refuge like Caleb.

Caleb. What was it about him that drew her to him? Not just his looks, although those were exceptional. Not just his touch, although her skin had tingled when he’d touched her and her breasts had ached when they’d been pressed against his chest. Not his dimple, although it showed an impish sense of humor in his otherwise hard face.

Shannon opened her eyes to stare at the fire, and saw in the flames images of Caleb’s face. What was it about him that made his face so difficult to forget? Something in those beautiful blue eyes…Warmth? Empathy? She didn’t know if it was one thing or many. She only knew there was something about him.

Something you have to forget, Shannon. You don’t need another man who’ll lie to you, for whatever reason. You had enough of that with Tony.

Not for the first time Shannon wondered if maybe Tony’s job would have been easier for her to accept if she’d known more about it. Instead, he’d made up stories to keep her from worrying. Tony had been adamant about not bringing his work home with him. After a while he’d hardly brought himself home.

Shannon turned onto her back. An image of Caleb, half-dressed, sitting on this very couch intruded on her thoughts. She groaned and covered her eyes with her hands.

How stupid can you be, Shannon Garrett? Caleb Joseph is a stranger. You’d be nuts to let yourself get involved with him.

She turned to stare again into the dancing flames. “You’d be nuts,” she whispered.

Because tomorrow or the next day or the next, Caleb would be gone. And it wouldn’t matter at all that she wished he could stay.

“BRANDON, NO!”

A vehement cry startled Shannon out of a light sleep.

“Dammit, Brandon, answer me!”

Caleb, she realized. He must be having a nightmare. She pushed back the quilt and swung her feet to the floor. The clock over the mantel chimed two. She’d checked him about an hour before, and he’d been sleeping peacefully.

She got up and padded on bare feet into the bedroom. Caleb had kicked off the covers and was thrashing around on the bed, moaning. Her heart went out to him. It was obvious his ordeal hadn’t just been physical.

She went over to the side of the bed and spoke to him quietly. “Wake up, Caleb.”

Gently she touched his left arm, but he grabbed her hand, staring at her with unseeing eyes. “Where’s Brandon? I can’t find him.” The anguish on his face was a testimony to the closeness he shared with the man, whoever he was.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright. “I’ve got to go find Brandon.”

Shannon pushed him firmly back on the bed. “You’re not going anywhere.”

He didn’t fight her, just lay back against the pillows, eyes closed, murmuring. “Brandon…have to find Brandon. I left him…should have stayed.”

She touched his forehead, smoothing back his hair in a gentle rhythm. “Quiet now, Caleb. You need to rest. Someone will find your friend. You’ll see, he’ll be safe and sound.” At least she hoped he would. Caleb already hated himself for leaving his friend alone. She could tell him he’d had no choice and he’d done the right thing until she was blue in the face. If something terrible had happened to his friend, she suspected Caleb would never forgive himself.

When he seemed to be sleeping again, Shannon covered him, then backed away from the bed. Careful not to make any noise, she perched on her overstuffed chair and watched him.

Though his breathing came evenly, his expression still showed its earlier distress. The scratches on his face showed no signs of infection, nor did the larger cut at his hairline. The lump on his forehead had started to color, promising to be multihued by morning.