Cabin Fever

by Marilyn Pappano

When she reached the second floor, Nolie took the doll and held her to the light. Her porcelain face was garishly colored, courtesy of the play makeup kit Marlene had given Micahlyn, with the spillover splattered onto her once-exquisite white lace dress. Swallowing a curse, Nolie said, “You get into the tub. I’ll take care of the doll.” The doll who, incidentally, looked better with or without makeup than she did. Who had a nicer body than she’d ever had. Who had black hair and delicate features and was amazingly beautiful. Who made Nolie feel woefully inadequate.

  Geez, another Fiona clone?

  As Micahlyn climbed into the filling tub, Nolie went into her bedroom and laid the doll on the bed. She didn’t turn the lights on, but walked to the window, looking toward the other cabin. Moonlight glinted on the Camaro, and more subdued light spilled out from the cabin’s windows, but with the door closed and the drapes drawn, that was all she could see.

  It was more than she wanted to see.

  Chapter Nine

  “TELL ME ABOUT NOLIE.”

  Chase was in the kitchen, emptying ice cubes into a glass for Raine’s soft drink, when she issued the request from the doorway. He’d left her a moment ago looking around the living room, though God knew, there was little enough to look at. A couch, a coffee table, one chair, a television. No pictures on the walls, no newspapers or books, nothing personal at all. Even the most observant person couldn’t spend more than a few minutes observing in there.

  “What about her?”

  Raine came closer, walking with that easy, graceful stride men everywhere admired. She was the sort of woman who commanded attention wherever she went—like Fiona. Unlike Fiona, Raine didn’t accept it as nothing more than her due. “Well, for starters, do you have a thing for her?”

  “Define ‘a thing.’ ”

  “Hmm, evading questions. Interesting.”

  “Not evading. Clarifying.”

  “Right. Don’t forget, Chase, I’ve watched you work. I know evasion when I see it, so knock it off.” She smiled teasingly. “The court orders you to answer the question.”

  “I’m not under oath, so I can’t be held to anything I say.”

  “So you’d want to lie to me about her. Ooh, interesting.”

  He handed her the drink, refilled the ice tray, and returned it to the freezer, then took a beer from the refrigerator. In the past week or so, his alcohol consumption had dropped to practically nil, and he hadn’t had a craving for a cigarette all day. What did it mean that he wanted both now?

  Truthfully, he didn’t want to know.

  “Nolie is—” He caught the beginnings of Raine’s grin itching to form and scowled at her. “Don’t laugh. She’s a very nice woman.”

  “If you think I’d laugh at that, you must have mistaken me for Fiona. I happen to like very nice women. Hey, I happen to be a very nice woman.”

  “You’ll get no arguments from me.” He gestured toward the living room with his beer bottle, and she lazily strolled that way. With the same ease, she sat down in the chair and modestly crossed her legs—an amazing feat, considering how short her dress was. He slumped down on the sofa.

  “So she’s a nice woman who has a child? . . .”

  “Micahlyn. She’s five.”

  “Pretty, like her mother?”

  When they’d first moved in, Chase remembered, he’d thought the kindest word to describe Micahlyn was homely. Long, frizz-prone red hair, ghostly white skin, and Coke-bottle glasses hadn’t exactly matched his idea of pretty. But impressions changed. She’d stopped shrieking, scowling, or whining every time she’d seen him and started acting like the pampered but fairly well-behaved child she was, and somewhere along the line, he’d begun thinking of her as cute, with the potential for beauty someday. When had that happened?

  “Yeah,” he said at last. “Like her mother.”

  “Is there a husband and father in the picture?”

  He shook his head. “He’s dead.”

  “Jeez, too bad.” After a moment, Raine’s grin returned. “Well? What else? Tell me the good stuff.”

  “What do you consider good stuff?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Like . . . have you gone out with her? Kissed her? Done the deed with her?”

  Chase felt his face growing hot, and did his best to disguise from her what he was feeling. Hell, he didn’t even know exactly what he was feeling. Embarrassment because she’d brought up the subject of sex? Uneasiness because he wanted to have sex with Nolie? Chagrin that she had read him so easily? “What makes you think we aren’t just neighbors?”

  “Call it woman’s intuition—plus the fact that you two were obviously up to something out there in the dark when I arrived.”

  “We were talking.”

  “Uh-huh. I’ll believe it if you want me to.”

  His need to change the subject was so strong that he didn’t bother with finesse. “What brings you down here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but it’s a long drive for a chat.”

  “I had some vacation time and my plans fell through and I’d been wondering about you. I was afraid you’d hole up out here and forget to eat and withdraw from the human race. So . . . here I am.”

  He didn’t tell her just how right she’d been—and would still be if not for Nolie. Raine would probably respond by becoming her newest best friend.

  “What were your vacation plans?” he asked.

  She gazed down at her glass, jiggling it just enough to make the ice cubes clink together. When she finally looked up again, there were shadows in her eyes. “Oh, nothing special. No great disappointment. Tell me, is there any place to stay in this town of yours besides the motel on the highway with the NO VACANCY sign?”

  “I don’t know. You can find out tomorrow if you want, and spend the night here.”

  “Uh-huh. And how will that look to Nolie?”

  “It’s not as if we have a . . . thing,” he said, resorting to her word for lack of a better one.

  “Oh, yes, you do. You just haven’t found the nerve to do anything about it. Yet.” She hid a yawn behind one hand. “But in any case, if you’re offering me your couch, I’d be more than happy to accept.”

  “Then put on a smile.” He slid to his feet and went to the hall closet to get clean linens, then grabbed the extra pillow off his bed. What was wrong with this picture? he thought grimly on his way back. He hadn’t had sex in more than three years—so long he could hardly remember how good it had been. Finally a beautiful, sexy, sensual woman was spending the night with him, and he couldn’t stir up even the slightest enthusiasm for a seduction attempt. Raine was exactly his type, and he thought he might have a better-than-even chance of succeeding if he did try to seduce her.

  He just didn’t want to.

  Because she wasn’t Nolie.

  The screen door was just closing behind Raine when he got back to the living room. She tossed her car keys on the coffee table, then set a small suitcase on the floor next to it.

  He gave her the bedding to use how she wanted, then retreated to the hallway. “If you need anything, just yell.”

  “Oh, if I need anything, I bet I can take care of it myself.” She shook out one sheet over the sofa cushions and tucked it under, then spread out another sheet for cover.

  “It’s good to see you, Raine.”

  “I wasn’t sure you would think so,” she said, flashing him a smile. “I had visions of finding a wild-eyed crazy man and having to drag you back to Boston in chains.”

  If he looked up bogeyman in the dictionary, would wild-eyed crazy man come after green, slimy, and lives in a mountain cave or before?

  “I’m only wild-eyed and crazy on Tuesdays.” He should turn around now and go to his room. It was late. Raine was tired. Any other conversation could wait until the next day. But his brain refused to give the command, and he doubted his feet would have obeyed it just yet. There was one question he needed to ask first. “Do you . . . Have you heard anything about Fiona?”

  Raine straighten
ed, holding the pillow to her chest, and an expression uncomfortably close to pity clouded her eyes. “It’s kind of hard to avoid hearing about her and Darren. For a wedding present, her father set him up as head of his own firm. With you out of the way, he gets the high-profile cases you always got, but he doesn’t win as many of them. They still live in your—in the house you bought, and . . . she’s pregnant. I’m sorry, Chase.”

  He knew those two words covered a lot. I’m sorry the wife you loved two-timed you, sorry she broke your heart and divorced you, sorry you were wrongly convicted, and sorry she’s carrying the baby you wanted but she would never agree to. He was sorry about all those things, too, but he chose to interpret her words differently.

  “Yeah, me, too. No kid should have to grow up with Fiona and Darren for parents.” He smiled faintly. “Goodnight.”

  LORRAINE GIARDELLO SPENT THE NIGHT WITH Chase.

  Nolie learned that first thing after a restless night by peeking out the window facing the other cabin, hoping against hope that the Camaro would be gone. Not only was it not gone, but Lorraine, hair tousled, barefooted, and wearing only an overly large T-shirt, was relaxing in the hammock with what appeared to be a cup of coffee. Even rumpled, she looked beautiful and sleek and satisfied.

  And that T-shirt . . . Granted, Nolie wore one to sleep in, but Lorraine didn’t strike her as the T-shirt type . . . unless it was the only thing handy to put on.

  Chase, however, was the T-shirt type, and it was big enough to be his.

  Nolie’s scowl didn’t fade the whole time she showered, dressed, rousted Micahlyn from bed, and fixed breakfast. She caught herself snapping at Micahlyn for dawdling over her cereal and had to apologize, then did it again when she sent her daughter upstairs to dress and Micahlyn returned in a church dress instead of play clothes.

  “You’re awful grumpy today,” Micahlyn announced with a scowl of her own when she came back in shorts and a top. “Grandma never talks mean to me.”

  That was true. Marlene saved her mean talk for Nolie. Which was beside the point. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I am kind of grumpy.” Grumpy. Not jealous, not hurt, not feeling rejected. Just cross due to lack of sleep. “Come on, let’s get going or I’ll be late for work.”

  “Wait a minute. I want to finish my toast in the car.”

  Nolie flushed guiltily. She’d rinsed their breakfast dishes while Micahlyn was changing clothes, and she’d seen no reason to waste an untouched piece of toast slathered with butter and homemade peach jam, so she’d . . . um, eaten it. After a week on her diet, it had tasted so good that she’d been tempted to sit down with the jam and a spoon and pig out.

  “Mama!” Micahlyn wailed from the dining room. “You throwed my toast away!”

  “Not exactly,” Nolie murmured, then forced a smile. “Sorry, kiddo. But you know I clean up while you get dressed, so you should have told me to save it. Come on now. We’ve really got to go.” She slung her purse over one shoulder, opened the door, and shooed her daughter outside, then hastily locked up.

  She was determined not to look in the direction of the other cabin. She followed Micahlyn down the steps, her gaze on the ground, and unlocked the car door. Slide in, back out with only the barest of glances, then drive away, and she’d be safe.

  She was too optimistic by half. She was about to get in the car when the banging of the screen door at the other cabin caught her attention. She didn’t mean to look, honestly, but it was reflex, and once she’d looked, she couldn’t turn away to save her life.

  Chase stood on the porch, wearing jeans and no shirt, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, and Raine was in his arms. He wasn’t kissing her—that might have been easier to bear. No, his head was tilted back and he was laughing—laughing out loud. Nolie had coaxed a laugh from him once, and it had been at her own expense, when she’d told him she’d been named for a tree. The rest of the time she was lucky to catch him with a smile.

  Apparently, Lorraine gave him more to laugh and smile about.

  Her face burning, Nolie got in the car, cranked the engine, and backed up without even a glance. But as she drove away, she couldn’t resist looking in the rearview mirror.

  They looked good together.

  And she felt like a fool.

  Micahlyn chattered nonstop as Nolie drove on autopilot to Angel Wings. She signed Micahlyn in, then kissed her good-bye before returning to the car. When she should have turned back toward the store, though, instead she made a detour past the bakery and bought her most favorite treat in the world—doughnut holes. Three dozen of them, still warm. She ate one dozen before she reached the store, giving herself twelve more reasons to feel rotten.

  As the morning passed, she shared the remaining doughnut holes with Trey, waited on customers, and brooded. Somehow she’d gotten the idea that Chase had been pretty much alone since his divorce. Not that she could blame it on anything he’d said. She’d just assumed the divorce had been difficult and he’d more or less mourned his loss until recently.

  Obviously, that wasn’t the case.

  The surprise was that she was surprised. Hadn’t she thought before, when they’d talked about Lorraine, that the woman must have been important to him? He hadn’t said much—Lorraine is very real—but it was the way he’d said it. As if she was special. As last night had proven.

  And here Nolie had been indulging in fantasies about being someone special to Chase herself. She was such an idiot.

  Dimly she became aware of a steady gaze fixed on her. She gave herself a mental shake, then looked up to find Trey standing on the opposite side of the shelves from her. He grinned. “Have a nice trip?”

  Puzzled, she raised her brows in silent question.

  “You were obviously miles away. You’ve been straightening that same shelf for ten minutes.” Coming around the corner, he took her by the shoulders and steered her toward the counter. “There aren’t any customers at the moment, and I’ve done all the sweeping, dusting, and restocking that can be done. Sit down. Read a book. Listen to music. Or, hey, tell me what you want for lunch, and I’ll go get it.”

  “I had two do—too many doughnut holes this morning.” To say nothing of her own low-fat breakfast and her daughter’s toast. “I think I should probably skip lunch. But you go ahead.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want a burger and fries? Maybe a chocolate malt?”

  Oh, she hadn’t had a chocolate malt in longer than she could recall, and just the mention of it was enough to make her mouth water. But then she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the plate-glass window and regretfully sighed. “You’re a kid. You’ll burn off all those calories before dinnertime. But they’ll spend eternity on my hips and thighs.”

  “Aw, you look fine. If you change your mind, you have my cell-phone number. Just let me know.”

  Watching him leave, she gave an affectionate shake of her head. Yeah, he could say she looked fine, because she was way too old for him. But it was probably a sure thing that when he looked at girls his own age, wondering who to ask to the next school dance, he didn’t linger long on the overweight girls but went straight to the beautiful, thin cheerleader types.

  Just as Chase had completely forgotten lush Nolie last night, once beautiful, thin, sexy Lorraine arrived.

  And speaking of Lorraine . . . It seemed the bell over the door announced her after she was already inside and halfway to the counter, robbing Nolie of the opportunity to duck into the back room. Instead, she was stuck, standing at the counter with no place to hide and nothing to do but watch as Lorraine moved far too gracefully toward her, arms full. “I come bearing food.”

  Nolie looked from her to the pizza boxes, then back again. Pizza was one of her many weaknesses, and these pies were steaming hot and fragrant enough to make a hungry woman weep. Under normal circumstances, she would have no desire to spend even one minute in the woman’s company, but when she came offering pizza . . . that was a hard thing to turn down.r />
  Setting the boxes on the counter, Lorraine lifted both lids, and the aromas actually made Nolie’s mouth water. Weakness was definitely the right word to describe it. She couldn’t possibly be hungry. She’d eaten—and eaten— only . . .

  It was a few minutes after one, she saw with a glance at the clock. Six hours since breakfast and past lunchtime, and she was hungry, especially for something that smelled so incredible.

  As if sensing she was wavering, Lorraine fanned the air above the pizzas with the napkins she’d brought. “I know good pizza when I see it—trust me, I’m Italian—and these look damn good. Surely you can eat a slice or two.”

  Or three or five.

  “This one has everything but anchovies,” Lorraine said, picking up a slice from one box, “and this one is vegetarian—Chase’s favorite. But you probably know that.”

  Watching her bite into the pizza pushed Nolie way past wavering. Grudgingly, she gestured toward the stool at the end of the counter, then pulled up her own and reached for a slice of everything. It tasted as wonderful as it smelled.

  “I tried to get Chase to come with me,” Lorraine said, “but you know how he is. He’s so . . . determined not to risk running into his family.”

  “I would have said scared.”

  “I almost did,” Lorraine said with a grin. “Do you see them often? I can’t imagine a town this small has that many people with his last name.”

  “I don’t really know.” The urge to ask what his last name was, was almost too strong for Nolie to resist. With the help of a generous mouthful of pepperoni, Canadian bacon, onions, peppers, and cheese, she managed. Well, that, plus the fact that she wasn’t about to admit to this total stranger just how little she knew about Chase.

  “He doesn’t talk about them much, does he? I swear, he knows just about everything about my family and I know zilch about his, aside from the fact that he has nothing to do with them.”

  At least she knew his last name. That still put Lorraine a big step ahead of her.

  Oh, yeah, and she’d slept with him. That put her in, like, another realm or something.