Conception Cover-Up

He didn’t know what to make of the bitterness that edged her voice, and his head ached from trying. He closed his eyes and reached up his good hand to try to rub away the pain. The logical answer was that she’d had a run-in with the cops. Which put her on the other side of the law. But Caleb couldn’t see this beautiful caring woman as a criminal. Petty or otherwise. Damn, he wished he didn’t have such a headache. It made it hard to think clearly.

He opened his eyes. “How did you know a bullet made the mark on my arm?”

“Personal experience,” she said stiffly.

“Really?” Disbelief colored his voice. His instincts told him she was as innocent as she looked. “Were you the grazer or the grazee?”

“Neither.”

This time Caleb recognized a hint of pain behind the anger. Whoever had been injured was someone she’d cared about. Her father? Brother? Husband?

“Then who?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She moved to the bed and picked up a sterile pad. “We need to finish this.” She started swabbing at his wound.

The antiseptic stung, and he flinched.

“Sorry.” She continued more gently.

Once it was clean, she slathered on the ointment, then covered the wound with a new piece of gauze, fixing it to his arm with white tape. Her hands were gentle and competent as she wound the bandage around his arm. Her silky hair brushed his bare shoulder. She smelled of rain and wood smoke. Scents he would never have considered erotic until now.

Knowing his turn of thought was completely inappropriate, he stared straight ahead and tried to concentrate on the natural weaving that hung on the opposite wall. It was fashioned of driftwood and pinecones and thick earth-toned yarn. He liked it. But even as he studied the unusual work of art, he couldn’t ignore the fact that if he turned his head another inch, he could taste Shannon’s full wide mouth.

He felt his body warm at the thought and knew he should do something, anything, to dampen the burgeoning spark. Women like Shannon had a way of complicating things. They made a man want to solve every problem, explore every secret. And then they left you wanting. He didn’t need that kind of complication. His best bet was to stay as far away from her as possible.

Seconds later Shannon finished her task. Without saying a word she picked up the first-aid kit and turned to leave the room.

“Shannon?”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“You don’t have to worry.” He smiled. “I really am harmless.”

She gazed at him for several seconds. “A harmless computer guy who just happened to be visiting in the area,” she said sweetly, “and just happened to get himself shot and just happened to get caught in a landslide?”

He had to admit the woman would have made a great interrogator. A less-experienced cop might have been ready to confess here and now. And so would he. Later. When he was sure she was out of harm’s way.

For now he just smiled wryly. “What can I say? I’m a klutz.”

Her own smile was grim. “Well, try not to fall out of bed, all right?” Then she left the room.

Against his will Caleb waited for her to come back. Impatient with himself, impatient for her presence, he found himself a victim of the very complication he’d dreaded.

He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to know why she was so bitter. He wanted to soothe away the hurt. He wasn’t the only one with something to hide. There were secrets behind her anger and pain. What man had hurt her so badly?

He caught himself again, pulled himself back. She doesn’t need or want you, buddy. So put away the sword and shield. The woman might be a damsel in distress, but she’s obviously determined to fight her own battles. And you have your own problems.

Brandon. His partner and best friend could even now be lying under tons of rock and mud. Had he escaped, only to run smack into Jim Driscoe? Or even worse, that weasel Larkin? Caleb shifted on the bed. His body screamed in protest.

He lay still until the din eased. Once he was able to relax a little, he had to laugh at himself. Who was he to be thinking about slaying dragons?

Hell, his own dragon had nearly devoured him. A months-long undercover investigation had blown up in his face. A landslide had come close to burying him forever. He had a concussion that kept his head banging constantly, and he was stuck in the middle of nowhere while his partner was out there alone. He had enough to worry about without dragging out the armor and steed to go jousting with the demons of a woman who’d just as soon toss him out in the rain.

SHANNON PUT AWAY the first-aid supplies and tried not to think about the man who lay on her bed. No stranger had ever affected her so thoroughly. Her fingers still tingled from touching the firm strength of his arms. Those weren’t the muscles of a man who spent his life in a high-tech firm.

She saw the soup waiting for her, but her appetite had fled. She poured the cooled soup back into the pot and put the mug in the sink, along with a few dishes from earlier. Washing them would give her something to do. She turned on the faucet, but no water came out. Duh, Shannon, she thought. No power, no pump.

She looked over at the computer that had been her lifeline. If she had electricity, she could work. As a syndicated advice columnist, she always had work to be done, letters to be answered, subjects that needed researching. Dealing with the problems of the faceless readers who wrote to her for advice was much easier than dealing with her own.

She rubbed her arms, feeling out of sorts. Having a man in the house was not doing her nerves any good. Especially when she suspected he was lying about his identity. Which made her physical reaction to him all the more frustrating. She wished she could take a long walk to work off her restlessness, but the deluge outside would likely drown her.

Letting out a long sigh, she opened the old trunk where she kept extra blankets and took out a pile. She covered the couch, still damp and dirty thanks to her unexpected guest. Sitting, she stared at the fire in the hearth and wished with all her might that the storm would end, the power would come on, the phones would work, and her guest would go home.

But even as she wished, she knew it was futile. She’d seen storms like this before. By now the stream at the foot of her property would have flooded the road. Even if she could get safely through it with her four-wheel-drive, that didn’t guarantee passage on other area roads. Caleb’s landslide probably wouldn’t be the only one.

The thought of spending several days with this handsome stranger, who suddenly didn’t feel like such a stranger, unnerved her. She hadn’t lived with another person for three years, and she’d come to like it that way. No disagreements, no fights, no dispute over what to have for dinner, what to watch on TV, when to get a new car.

No love, a little voice added.

What did love have to do with it? she scoffed. Love was useless. Love promised everything, but in the end it left you with nothing. She didn’t need love anymore. She needed her work and she needed her solitude. And thanks to this storm, she had neither.

She crossed to the fireplace and added a couple of logs. What she had was a perfectly normal female reaction to a big handsome male. Hormones. If he wasn’t here, she’d be sitting by the fire, wrapped in an afghan, enjoying the sound of the rain.

Alone.

The last time she’d visited Santa Cruz, she’d bought several books she looked forward to reading. What better time to do that than when you were stuck inside on a rainy night?

Alone.

Shannon closed the screen and went back to the couch. In spite of the glowing heat, she felt chilled. She grabbed the afghan off the back of the sofa and draped it over her shoulders. Still she shivered. Damn him for showing up on her doorstep and disrupting her quiet peaceful evening.

She did not want him here. She didn’t need the warmth that radiated from him. She didn’t need his problems.

She didn’t care how many times he told her he worked in computers. She had a hard time believing it. But she couldn’t come up with a reason he’d lie about his identity, either.

Well, liar or not, she didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of him. Tending his wounds had brought back her experience with Tony as vividly as if it were yesterday. She did not want to patch up another man just to have him turn around and get shot again. She’d barely survived the first time.

“Shannon?”

She jerked around and saw Caleb leaning against the back of the couch. He’d wrapped the quilt around himself, and his face was pale from exertion.

All thoughts of the past faded. She jumped up and went to him. “For heaven’s sake, what are you—Never mind. Come and sit down before you fall down.”

She put her arm around his wide back and guided him to the couch. It seemed incongruous that she should be helping a man who made her feel tiny and vulnerable. Yet when she looked at his mouth, pinched with pain he’d probably scoff at, she couldn’t help feeling protective.

As he sat on the couch, the quilt slipped from around his shoulders, reminding her that he wore nothing underneath. Not that she’d really forgotten. That would have been as hard as ignoring the fact that he was a man. A dangerously attractive man, with a dimple charming enough to make the hardest woman melt at his feet.

“You must be cold,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint and cover himself.