by SUE FINEMAN
“I emptied my bank accounts before I left Seattle. Does my money make you uncomfortable?”
“Of course it makes me uncomfortable. People like you don’t hang around with people like me.” This morning she was just an ordinary woman, injured and sick, but regular people. Now she was one of the rich and famous he read about in magazines and saw on television.
The light in her eyes went out as if she’d flipped a switch. “Let me up. I’ll call someone to come and get me. Please let me up.” Her voice quavered with emotion.
Nick stood by the woodstove as if frozen to the spot. He couldn’t let her leave now. Where would she go? Who’d take care of her? “Why don’t you stay until your leg is healed?”
“Because you don’t want me here.” He heard the tears in her voice, and he felt like a jerk for not being more considerate. She didn’t cry when she was buried under that cabin, and now she was on the verge of falling apart.
He turned to the pan on the woodstove and flipped the sandwich, then hunched down beside her and lifted her chin. Her eyes swam with unshed tears. “Cara, if you left now, I’d worry about you.”
“You would?”
“Of course I would.” Nick jumped up and grabbed the pan off the woodstove. “Damn, I burned the sandwich.”
“It doesn’t smell burned.” She reached out. “It smells good and I’m hungry.”
He put it on a paper towel and handed it to her. She took a bite. “Mmm, it is good.”
He knew she didn’t eat junk like that at home. She’d probably never eaten anything greasy in her life. “I can make you something else.”
She looked up. “Don’t tiptoe around me, Nick. I’m the same person I was yesterday.”
Sure she was, but now he knew who she was. It shouldn’t make a difference, but it did. She didn’t belong in his dinky little house. Surely she had someone somewhere she could depend on, someone who’d help her through this. “Don’t you have somebody to check in with?”
“No.” She took another bite.
Nick took a deep breath and blew it out. It wasn’t the best time to tell her, but she had to know her husband was tracking her down. “Cara, your husband knows you bought a used car in Tacoma. It was on the news this morning.”
She groaned. “Oh, not already.”
“Hey, it’s okay. He doesn’t know you’re here with me.”
“You don’t understand. I bought a computer and had it delivered. Those people know where I live, and so does Elaine Martin, my landlady.”
“Where you lived, you mean. If he comes looking for you, what’ll he find?”
“The car and a destroyed cabin.”
“Would he dig in that mess to find you?”
It took her a few seconds to answer. “No, but he’d check the other cabins along here, including yours. I have to be gone by then.”
Nick shrugged. “Unless he hikes in or comes by boat, he can’t get here anyway, not with the roads out. I figure that buys you some time to recuperate.”
While she ate, he fixed himself a sandwich. He didn’t have a lot of food in the house, but he’d have to make it stretch until he could find a way to get to the store. He couldn’t count the times he’d gone hungry when he was a kid. His mother got welfare, but she bought scotch instead of food, and there wasn’t enough money for both.
Cara scratched her head. “Do you think we could find a way to wash my hair?”
“Yeah, sure. Tony brought another big jug of water. I’ll heat some on the stove.”
She sat on the edge of the bathtub, a towel wrapped around her chest, while Nick shampooed her hair. She closed her eyes and smiled. “Oh, Nick! That feels so good.”
“Tip your head back a little, if you can.... Hey, the black is washing out.”
“It’s not supposed to be permanent.”
Using a small plastic bowl, he rinsed the shampoo out. “The black didn’t all come out.”
“It will in time.”
He wrung it out and grabbed a towel. “That’s good.”
“You don’t like black hair?”
“Not on you.” He rubbed her hair with the towel.
“Is there enough warm water left for a bath? I feel really grubby.”
He stopped rubbing. “You are really grubby.”
She laughed, a rich, throaty sound that filled the room and woke parts of his body that had been dormant the past year. He gently washed Cara’s back and shoulders and arms, then handed her the washrag and left the room. She’d have to do the rest herself.
Cara Andrews. Imagine a rich woman like that staying in his little house and pretending to be his wife.
She came out holding the towel around her. “Where are those clothes?”
He pointed to the back bedroom and followed her through the door. “They’re not pretty, but they’re clean.”
“I don’t care what they look like.”
He held up a pair of panties and she stepped into them. Careful of her sore leg, he pulled them up to her knees. She reached down to pull them up and their hands touched.
In that instant, the atmosphere changed. Before, she was a woman who needed his help, and then she was a famous heiress. Now, she was simply a woman, he was a man, and she was nearly naked in his back bedroom.
She couldn’t hold the towel and pull the panties up at the same time. “Oh, hell!” Nick muttered. He’d seen naked women before, and he’d seen this one nearly naked, so he pulled her towel off and pulled up the panties. She stood quietly while he helped her on with a green flannel shirt. He tried not to stare at her breasts, but it wasn’t easy. They were gorgeous, pale and full and perfectly shaped. After he buttoned the shirt, Nick grabbed a long, full, denim skirt with an elastic waist and held it while she stepped into it.
Funny how she’d let him see her like this, but he had to snoop in her purse to find her real name.
Her hair was starting to curl, but it was such a mess. She was a mess all over, wearing wrinkled, mismatched clothes, with cuts and scratches on her face and hands. He propped his hands on his hips and looked her up and down. “If those tabloid photographers could see you now.”
“Do I look that bad?” The light sparkled in her eyes. She liked to be teased.
He touched her hair. “I’m sorry I had to cut it off.”
“I’ve had long hair all my life. It was time for a change.”
Cara saw the look of hunger in Nick’s eyes and knew it no longer mattered to him who she was. No man had ever looked at her as if he’d like to devour her. Her body tingled every time he touched her. He was too much of a gentleman to seduce an injured woman, but she knew he was thinking about it. And, God help her, so was she.
<>
The private detective wanted more money, and Lance didn’t have much left. The cleaning woman wanted to be paid, too. Sally had wired him a couple thou, but he’d have to give it all to the detective. The detective was necessary, the cleaning woman wasn’t. He’d tell her to take a hike. He wouldn’t be there much longer anyway. So what if the house got dirty?
He’d take more of Cara’s little trinkets to the pawn shop tomorrow, maybe her antique jewelry box collection. She wouldn’t like it, but so what? It was her own fault for cutting him off.
He had to take Cara out of the picture. Locked up or dead, it didn’t matter which to him, but one way or the other, he would have her money.
All of it.
<>
Cara wasn’t the only one who felt grubby. While she napped in his bed, Nick heated water on the woodstove and shaved and bathed by candlelight. If not for Cara, he would have hiked up to Aunt Sophia’s house to shower, but he couldn’t leave her alone that long, especially with her husband looking for her.
He started a pot of stew cooking on the woodstove, straightened up the cabin, sorted the laundry, and refilled the oil lamp. Cara slept like a baby. He didn’t mind having her there, but she belonged in her own home, with her own people taking care of her.
Low clouds r
olled in over the water and a light rain dampened the deck. Nick lit the oil lamp in the living room and put a candle in the bathroom. The stew was done, so he set the pot on the bricks beside the woodstove to keep warm.
It grew dark outside. Cara had been asleep for hours. He hated to wake her, but she had to eat and take her medicine before she went to sleep for the night.
Squatting beside the bed, Nick gazed at Cara’s face, relaxed in sleep. She’d be pretty when those scratches healed and that black stuff washed out of her hair. She had a nice shape, cute little nose, pretty eyes, great legs, and a laugh he’d hear in his dreams.
He put his hand on her cheek, then touched her lips. “Come on, sleepyhead. Time to wake up.”
She made a sleepy little sound. “Cara, wake up.”
She stirred and opened her eyes. “Mmm, Nick? What time is it?”
“It’s late. I’m sorry to wake you, but you need to take your medicine.”
Cara reached out to touch his face. The sleepy look in her eyes and the gentle touch of her hand made him want to kiss her and crawl into bed with her, but he backed away and returned to the living room before things got out of control. He sure as hell didn’t need to get involved with another woman.
Especially this one.
<>
Cara sat at the kitchen counter and Nick put a bowl of stew in front of her. “Bread? Crackers?” His guarded look was back, and he sounded like a waiter.
She threw down her paper towel napkin and glared at him. “Will you stop tiptoeing around me? Why can’t you treat me like a normal person?” There were times when she hated being rich, like now. Knowing who she was had put distance between them. Why couldn’t he understand that she wasn’t that different from other people?
She walked to the front window and Nick followed. “Cara, you need to eat.”
She turned to face him. “Look at me. Do I look special? Do I have two heads or three arms or a big zit on the end of my nose?”
Eyebrows raised, Nick scanned her face and body. “You look like hell.”
“I feel that way, too, in case you were wondering. Until I met you, my mother and grandfather were the only people who treated me like a real person. After my grandfather and little brother died and my mother went to the sanitarium, I had guardians who told me what to do and how to behave, but they never showed me any affection. Last night, when you tucked me in, I almost cried. It’s been years since someone cared enough to tuck me in.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I know. Please don’t go back to acting like I’m some kind of freak.”
Nick lifted his hands and dropped them. “Okay, from now on, you’re a regular person, not a woman with more money in her purse than I’ve ever seen in one place in my whole life.”
“It’s only money, Nick. It doesn’t keep me warm at night, and it doesn’t buy affection.”
“Or love?”
“If you mean my husband, the only thing Lance loves is my money. I was so gullible, so starved for affection, I thought he loved me. I can’t believe I fell for his line and married him. I’ve never in my life done anything that stupid.”
Nick cleared his throat. “Come on. Eat. The stew is getting cold.”
Cara watched Nick’s brows knit in a worried frown and wondered what he was thinking. The flicker of longing she’d seen in his eyes earlier was gone. He didn’t want her here, that much was clear, but he wouldn’t throw her out while she was sick. She had no way to leave anyway and nowhere to go except back to the estate in California.
She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but she didn’t want to hurt Nick’s feelings, so she ate every bite of her stew. “That was very good, Nick. Thank you.”
“I got a couple steaks in the freezer. I’ll put them on the barbecue grill tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to fix anything special for me.”
“That stuff in the freezer has to be used or thrown out. It won’t keep without power.”
“What else is in there?”
“Vegetables, ice cream.” He shrugged. “Not much.”
She cocked her head. “What kind of ice cream?”
“Rocky road.”
“Rocky road is okay. Butter pecan is better.”
Nick pulled the ice cream from the freezer. “It’s half melted.”
“Then we’d better eat it quick.” She searched in his cupboards for bowls.
He opened the carton and wrinkled his nose. “You want to eat this goop?”
“Shut up and scoop or pour, whichever. I hate wasting good ice cream.”
He filled both bowls to the rim. The ice cream was mushy and half-melted, but she ate it anyway.
She pointed to his shirt. “You’re dripping.”
“So are you.”
She wiped a blob of ice cream off her shirt with her finger, then licked her finger. “I’m eating with the wrong hand. What’s your excuse?”
“Smart-ass woman.” He wiped his shirt.
She dipped her spoon in his dish, scooped out a nut, and popped it into her mouth.
“Hey! Cut that out.”
“You got more nuts.”
He grinned. Cara felt the flush of embarrassment on her face, but she stifled the urge to say something unkind. She wanted him to be himself around her.
When she finished eating, he said, “Take your medicine, then go sit by the woodstove and let me check your leg. Dr. Taylor said to change the bandage twice a day and check for infection.”
“I can’t look at it or I’ll throw up again.”
“You do and you’ll clean it up yourself.”
“And I used to think you were a nice guy.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Boy, was I ever wrong.”
The corners of his mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. “Is this the first time you’ve had stitches?”
“Yes. Looks like you’ve had some yourself.” He looked like he’d had a rough life, with that scar over his eye, another one on his chin, and one on his hand.
He gently pulled her bandage off and she looked away, afraid she’d get sick to her stomach again.
He looked up. “It looks okay. Does it hurt?”
“Not as much as it did before. My shoulder feels better. Those pills help.”
“Pills? And here I thought it was my TLC.”
Warmth spread through her body as Nick put a clean bandage on her leg. He was right. It was his TLC.
She’d never met a man quite like Nick. She wondered how many men would have crawled under a pile of rubble to help a complete stranger and then cared for her with as much compassion as Nick had.
In spite of his friendly teasing and gentle care, she couldn’t stay long. Lance had a temper and she didn’t want him to hurt Nick. As soon as the roads were fixed, she’d find another place to hide until she ended her marriage.
Chapter Four
The next morning, Tony arrived with another man and a big, friendly dog they called Riley. The dog ran straight to Cara, wagging his tail, and Nick grabbed the dog to pull him away.
“He’s all right, Nick. Let him say hello.”
“I don’t want him to bump your sore leg.”
Riley put his front paws in Cara’s lap and licked her face with his big, pink tongue.
“Hey, quit that,” said Nick. On his way outside, he said to the dog, “If anybody gets to kiss her, it’s me. You got that? Keep your slobbery tongue off her.”
Cara laughed and wiped her face with her sleeve. There were times when Nick looked at her as if he wanted to kiss her, and she wanted him to, but aside from his teasing, he’d kept his distance.
Nick came back in with Angelo, another cousin. He was a little shorter and rounder than Tony and Nick, who were both about six feet, and not as handsome as Tony, who could model for the cover of a romance novel. Angelo had soft brown eyes and a warm smile. He kissed her hand. “Cara Andrews. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Tony didn’t tell me it was you.”
All th
e air left her lungs, and she couldn’t breathe. Since Nick and Tony didn’t recognize her and no one at the hospital had, she thought no one would. She was wrong.
“Cara Andrews,” Tony said with a touch of awe. “I never would have known.”
“I saw your husband on television,” said Angelo. “He’s so worried about you, he’s offering a reward.”
“Oh, no,” she whispered mostly to herself.
“He wants to lock her up in an institution,” said Nick. “He’s after her money.”
Angelo’s mouth dropped open. “No way.”
Would these men go after the reward? Nick wouldn’t, but she wasn’t so sure about Tony and Angelo. She didn’t know them.
“Hey, don’t worry about us,” said Tony. “We won’t turn you in.”
If only she could be sure. If the road was fixed, she’d leave today, but with Lance on television, where could she hide that someone wouldn’t recognize her?
Nick fingered Cara’s hair. “Angelo, can you fix her hair? I had to chop it off to get her loose. Be careful of her right shoulder. It’s banged up pretty bad.”
Angelo ran his fingers through Cara’s hair. “What a shame to lose all that pretty hair. How do you want it?”
“Whatever you think, Angelo. I’ve never had short hair, so I’ll leave it up to you.”
As Angelo worked, Tony talked about an elderly neighbor whose house had been damaged in the earthquake. Poor woman couldn’t stay in her home unless it was fixed, and quickly.
“I don’t know how to fix a house,” said Cara, “but I can help with money.”
Nick shook his head. “Cara, there are agencies—”
“Come on, Nick,” said Angelo. “You know Mrs. Cooperman would never ask an agency for help.”
Cara felt Angelo’s gentle hands in her hair, combing, snipping, shaping. “As soon as I find an attorney, I’ll have him set up a company, but that takes time. I want you to take care of Mrs. Cooperman right away.”
“What are you going to call this company?” asked Angelo.
She looked from one face to another. “Any suggestions?”
Nick answered, “Max and Company.”
Cara exchanged a long look with Nick. She would have called it Donatelli Construction. Maybe someday there would be a company by that name, but Nick was a proud man, and he needed the satisfaction of building it on his own. “Max and Company. I like it.”
