Until There Was You

by Unknown

  Pausing, he stared down into her drawn face. “You want to move into another bedroom?”

  Standing, she glanced up to the second floor. “The other bedrooms are upstairs.”

  Without thought, his hand rested on her arm. “He won’t find it so easy to get back in or to you. I promise.”

  She believed him. “I’ve run enough.”

  His hand gently squeezed. “Come on, after I finish I’ll show you where the fresh linen is and help you make up your bed.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LUKE HAD DELIBERATELY GIVEN CATHERINE SOMETHING else to think about besides the person who had stolen into her room, but he had also started his own active imagination. When she went to bed that night he wanted her to think of him handling her sheets, him in her bedroom, him staring across the bed at her instead of a nameless adversary.

  From her nervousness he’d succeeded. From his own heightened awareness of her, he had succeeded too well. Now, they were back in the great room. With her sitting across from him, the clear, bright sunlight behind her pouring over her, he was having a difficult time trying not to imagine how she would look with nothing but sunshine on her beautiful mahogany skin.

  “Tell me about yourself and don’t leave anything out,” he asked, glad his voice sounded calm and normal.

  She twisted uncomfortably in her seat. “Is this necessary?”

  “It is if you want to find out who’s doing this. Whoever is behind this has no plans to stop.” He leaned forward in his seat. “Following you to Santa Fe and up here shows it. Wish I would have caught the bastard when he was in the cabin.”

  “It could have been a woman.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Why do you say that?”

  She told him about Rena Bailey, the baseball bat–wielding woman. “She’s supposedly in rehab for her alcoholism. By now she should be able to go home on weekend passes. I seriously doubt that she’ll stick to the end of the program. She’s yet to admit she has a problem. She thinks of her two children as possessions, not the precious gifts they are.”

  “I’ll check it out.” He scribbled something on paper. “What about the men in your life?”

  Her smooth brow lifted. Icicles hung from each slowly enunciated word. “I beg your pardon?”

  He should have phrased the question better. He hadn’t because he was too interested in the answer. A bad sign he was getting in over his head. “Are you involved with anyone at the present?”

  “No.”

  Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t deny that her answer mattered. “Your last serious relationship then?”

  “That would be when I was a senior in college and engaged.”

  Luke’s pen poised over his paper. His mouth didn’t gape, but just barely. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Why is it so hard to believe I was engaged?”

  “That’s the easy part.”

  “Before you ask me a lot of unnecessary questions, I haven’t seen Roderick in years, he’s now happily married and has three children.”

  There was something in her voice. Regret. Bitterness. “You still care for the guy?”

  “No. Next question?”

  He wanted to probe, but not for the case. He wanted to know about any guy who had ever meant anything to her. Too much. Too wrong. “How about the last guy you dated?”

  “I guess that would be Lee Perkins. He’s also an associate professor at my university. We dated for about a month and then decided to go our separate ways.”

  Black eyebrows bunched. “Who decided to call a halt to things?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?” he probed.

  “Is this necessary?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t necessary.”

  “His attitude. He’s an excellent instructor, but he’s always looking for a way to climb and he doesn’t care at whose expense.”

  “He try to climb over you?” he asked, his voice biting.

  “No, but he did to another professor at the university last year,” she told him.

  “You still dated him knowing that?”

  “Give me some credit,” she said, her voice sharpening with annoyance. “We went out before then.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that the last time you had a meaningful date with a guy was over a year ago?”

  “I told you that earlier,” she said, her irritation growing. “Going out with Lee was more socializing, so I’d say the last meaningful date was more like three years?”

  He stared at her sitting on the sofa. She looked fragile and beautiful and desirable. Any man who saw her would want her. “Why?”

  She shifted in her chair. “I’ve led a very busy life with teaching, writing, and unfortunately I’m often called upon by Child Protective Services or the district attorney’s office as an expert witness to assess a child’s needs and mental status, which makes my schedule even tighter.”

  “You don’t like being called, do you?”

  “I hate turning my back on a needy child more,” she said with conviction.

  Sitting back in his chair, he stared at her. Something still didn’t add up. “Other women have busy schedules and still have time to date.”

  She picked nonexistent lint from her blue pants before lifting her head. “They must be better organized than I am. If I didn’t have my date book, I’d be lost.”

  His interest peaked. “Where is your date book?”

  “In my room.”

  “I’d like to see it.”

  “You won’t be able to read it. It’s in shorthand.”

  “I’d like to see it please.”

  Without bothering to slip her shoes back on, she went to her room, obtained the leather-bound burgundy book from her suitcase, and handed it to Luke, then waited for him to ask her to decipher her notes. Instead he began flipping pages.

  Puzzled, she positioned herself behind him so she could read the pages over his shoulder, almost afraid of what she might see. But no, the notations were just as she had written. More pages were turned.

  “You read shorthand.” It was a statement.

  “You learn a lot as an FBI agent.” He flipped a few more pages, then looked up at her. “Will Dr. Perkins and your assistant be attending the Psychology Association Conference in Santa Fe?”

  Frowning at the question, she nodded. “Yes, but why do you ask?”

  “Seems you left out a few things.”

  She propped her hands on her hips. “I told you everything.”

  His gaze sharpened. “What about you being up against Perkins for department head, what about the disciplinary actions you’re going to bring against your assistant for falsifying research data if she doesn’t resign before the fall semester, what about this Tolliver person always in your face saying if it wasn’t for your parents you wouldn’t have advanced so fast and who you knocked out of the speaker’s position for the psychology conference this week, what about the neighbor who helped you and now wants a more intimate form of thanks?”

  She jerked the book from his hand. “Those are personal notations. You shouldn’t have read them.”

  He surged to his feet. “How the hell else was I supposed to find out? You didn’t tell me anything more than what you had to.”

  “I know those people. They may not be perfect, but they wouldn’t do this,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

  The trembling voice got to him. “Don’t.” He pulled the book out of her hand, tossed it aside, then brought her into his arms in one easy motion. Clutching his shirt front, she pressed her cheek against his chest.

  “They wouldn’t do this.”

  He hated adding to her troubles, but there was no other way. “You know better than most that with the right motivation and the right circumstances, a person will do anything.”

  Unconsciously she snuggled closer to his hard length, seeking and finding the comfort she’d somehow always known she’d find in his strong embrace. Her eyes drifted shut in growing disi
llusionment. “I wanted to find out what was going on, but it’s almost worse knowing someone hates me this much.”

  Her slim, elegant body fit perfectly against his. It seemed natural and right for his lips to brush across her hair, her cheek. Her head lifted, her lips were parted and beckoning.

  Luke stared at temptation. An inch closer and he’d taste her tender lips and find out how she looked wearing nothing but sunshine. But he’d lose something he wasn’t sure he could get back. He waited until her eyes opened and cleared.

  Dropping his hands, he stepped back. “Their loss, not yours.”

  “No, mine,” she mumbled and turned away.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Luke wasn’t for her. But somehow her body kept forgetting. Crossing to the couch, she picked up her datebook. “I thought I was being so clever. That’s how they were able to find out things about me, isn’t it?”

  “Most likely,” he said, not liking the defeated look in her face. “If not that, they would have found another way.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.” She held the book out to him. “I guess you’ll need this.”

  He kept his gaze on her, noting the tiredness, the growing disillusionment. He couldn’t give her much, but he could give her this. “Why don’t you read it and let me know if you find anything else?” Her privacy had been invaded enough. “Start at least six months before your billfold came up missing.”

  Her expression cleared at the suggestion. “Thanks, Luke.”

  “I’ll be in the office off the kitchen.” He walked away feeling both the pull of her gaze and the pull of her body, and wondering how long he’d be able to resist both.

  Catherine’s gaze tracked Luke’s well-muscled body until he disappeared around a corner. He was strength and grace and power. He was tough when he had to be, but there was also a tenderness for those not as strong. Whatever forces, whether his mother or fate, had brought them together, she’d always be thankful.

  Settling down with her notebook in what was becoming her favorite spot, an oversize tan leather chair in the great room, Catherine began reading as Luke had instructed. Luke might not have wanted to invade any more of her privacy, but he expected a full report.

  She started at the beginning of June of the year before. Most of it was boring. She had to wonder a few times, on reading how filled her days were, how she got everything done. Yet, as Luke had said, other women had comparable schedules and still found time to date. She would have, too, if she had thought it would lead to anything.

  Hers wouldn’t have. No man wanted a sterile wife.

  Her eyes shut tight against the misery that found no ease. She had asked herself “why me?” too many times to count. There was never an answer. Her gynecologist was sorry she had prescribed birth control pills to regulate Catherine’s menstrual cycle, sorry that instead of doing what they were intended to do, they had created numerous tumors in her fallopian tubes. They weren’t discovered until her annual pap smear came up abnormal.

  Opening her eyes, she leaned her head against the back of the seat. She had been so frightened when she had gone into surgery to have the tumors removed. During the operation her doctor discovered small tumors on her uterine wall as well. She had come through the surgery without complications, but her recovery had been slow and painful.

  Six weeks later when she had gone in for her checkup, her gynecologist had been apologetic again. Catherine was given less than a 5 percent chance of conceiving, and if that miracle did happen, due to the scarring of her uterus, the possibility of carrying to term was almost nil. After six months, all bets were off . . . unless she had the surgery again.

  She had always wanted children and was devastated by the report. Tearfully she had told her fiancé, Roderick, the heartbreaking news, expecting him to be as disappointed as she was, but never expecting him to send his mother to call off the engagement . . . or his mother’s painful words. “Roderick has a commitment to the family to carry on the legacy of the generations before him. That means children and grandchildren. You couldn’t possibly think he or any other sensible man would marry a woman who is barren.”

  Catherine had returned his ring by special delivery. Her family was hurt for her and angry at Roderick for not telling her in person. She couldn’t blame him. He wanted something she had been unable to give him.

  In the fall she had started on her master’s program, then progressed to earn her doctorate. She kept her dates, if she had them, light and simple. Working with children became her greatest joy and greatest heartache. She had to witness the abuse, neglect, and abandonment of children whom she would have made any sacrifice to have, to hold, to love.

  She wasn’t given that choice. Only once, a few months after she received her doctorate, had she mentioned her sterility to a man she was dating. He was a friend of the family, successful, intelligent—or so she had thought. He was delighted by the news and proceeded to try to take her into the bedroom instead of out to dinner as planned. They could have sex all they wanted and he didn’t have to wear a tiresome condom. She had sent the selfish, egotistical bastard home and never told another man.

  She had filled her life and tried not to regret too much what she would never have—a husband and family. In her career, she had counseled with and seen too many women who had traded their bodies for empty words of love and companionship. She had vowed that wouldn’t happen to her. If she made love to any man, it would mean something to both of them. So far, she had yet to meet such a man.

  “You didn’t go to sleep, did you?”

  Startled, she looked over her shoulder to see Luke standing there, hands on hips, staring at her. Her heart thudded in her chest. She had kept her vow because she had never met Luke Grayson.

  Luke made her body hum and vibrate with sensual longing. But he’d want a whole woman. Never before had she felt regret so keenly as she did now.

  Frowning, he came closer. “You found something else in your notebook.”

  She tucked her head. “No.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Positive.” She stood. “I think I’ll take a walk. I haven’t explored the woods behind the house yet.”

  His frown deepened. “You want me to go with you?”

  “No.” She laid the book on the end table as she passed.

  “Don’t go far.”

  She kept walking. “I won’t.”

  LUKE DIDN’T FEEL AS IF HE WERE IMPOSING OR violating a trust in the least as he followed Catherine. He wanted to make sure no one was in the woods with her. Once he had determined that he’d leave her to find what peace she could. The deeper she went, the slower her steps, the farther her shoulders drooped.

  Circling around in front of the spruce and pine trees, he saw her face. His breath caught. Gone was the smart-mouthed woman who held a gun on him and tossed out one-liners, and in her place was a woman in abject misery. When she stopped to sit in the midst of wildflowers, then lifted her head to the sky, Luke saw moisture glistening on her bronzed mahogany skin. Tears.

  She was hurting. Her head lowered, and it was all he could do not to go to her. But somehow he knew she wouldn’t want that, knew she wouldn’t want anyone to see her vulnerability. Tough. He’d give her thirty minutes and then he was coming back for her.

  Silently he slipped away and returned to the cabin. With each step he discovered walking away was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

  WIPING AWAY THE USELESS TEARS, CATHERINE POSItioned her hands beside her. She hadn’t cried in years. It wasn’t lost on her that it had been over a man then, also. Maybe because her life was in turmoil, she was looking for a man to fix it because one had failed her in the past.

  Closing her eyes she visualized Luke staring down at her lips and shivered, then dismissed her theory completely. Her attraction to a virile specimen of manhood and some person’s vengeance against her just happened to be occurring at the same time. She just had to decide if she wanted the attract
ion to lead to anything deeper. Luke wouldn’t, couldn’t be hers forever. When her morning flight left next Sunday for Los Angeles, she’d be on it.

  LUKE WAS UNLOCKING THE GLASS DOOR OFF THE LOG-post back deck when the phone rang. Expecting reports from his agents on Catherine’s associates, he quickly crossed to the phone and picked it up. “Hello.”

  “Who is this?”

  Not again! But this time he heard the authority behind the question. “Luke Grayson.”

  There was a long pause before the woman said, “May I please speak with Catherine?”

  “She went for a walk. I can go find her if you’d like.”

  “I was under the impression that she would be alone in the cabin.”

  One thing about Catherine, her friends really looked out for her. “I own the cabin with Daniel. Neither Catherine nor I knew the other would be here.”

  “And how long have you been there?”

  “Late Friday night,” he said. After another extended pause he felt compelled to add, “Catherine tried to find a room last night in Santa Fe, but they were all booked.”

  “Was there a reason she wanted to leave?” The voice had taken on a distinctive edge. Whoever the woman was, she was tough.

  “She didn’t want to impose.”

  “How long will you be there?”

  He didn’t mind setting her mind at ease, but enough was enough. “Who’s asking?”

  “Her mother, Elizabeth Stewart.”

  Uh-oh. “She’s fine, Mrs. Stewart. If you need to check on me, ask Daniel.”

  “My secretary is doing that now.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Add thorough and smart to the toughness.

  “Mr. Grayson, please have my daughter call me at my office in Washington when she comes in.”

  “Washington?” He was also waiting for Catherine’s background information to come in.

  “I’m a U.S. Senator for California. I make a wonderful friend or a bad enemy. Goodbye.”

  Luke hung up the phone and left the cabin in search of Catherine. Her mother would happily rip his tonsils out if he caused her daughter any harm. He didn’t want to cause her harm, he wanted to lay her down and make love to her like there was no tomorrow. He also never wanted to see her unhappy again. It surprised him how much he wanted both in equal portions.