Perhaps she hoped to celebrate every second now. She was alive. Gabriel’s strong lips left her mouth with a constant ache for his kiss. She’d heard about good sex all her life, and her mind earlier had been cloudy. Unlike most women, it seemed, she’d never had good sex. Sex had always been over fast so that she could get back to work. She wet her lips with her tongue and imagined she’d experience what women whispered about as a “release,” if Gabriel took her.
He put her down, and she flung herself into him. His lips shattered any doubts she had, and he left her mouth with a tingle of excitement that burned for more.
She stood on her tiptoes, buried her face in his neck, and left a small kiss there.
With a tortured grunt, he tore himself away. Her head spun out of control. He had kissed her back. “Erica, I . . . shouldn’t.”
“Don’t think.” She stood up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’m here. We’re alive.”
Something dark stormed through his body, and he stepped back. He ran his hands down his hair again and spun away. “No, I was wrong. This cannot happen between us. You deserve better.”
Her throat constricted, and he ran out of the room.
Out of breath, she tried to stop her heart racing. She held her hands close to her chest. Gabriel set off a strange desire in her that she’d never experienced in her life. Until him, she steered clear of attractive men, and never had these sparks of awareness. She knew with certainty she’d acted way out of character, and it didn’t matter here.
She’d not be here forever.
No one would believe Erica Mira—the cook and baker with big dreams to take over an abandoned cake factory to market her own brand of tasty treats nationwide—ever entertained erotic thoughts about men. She’d been called cold, logical, and boring. She licked her lips and listened to her heartbeat. She’d never been that fulfilled from sex to care.
The fever he awoke in a kiss was new. Until him, despite the science classes she’d taken, she wondered if the stories women told one another about orgasms were just that. She had questioned if the entire response was made up for Internet junkies and romance readers. Now the pulse of desire stayed strong. In the past, she’d always cooled fast after a man’s kiss. Perhaps with Gabriel it was real.
She told the empty room, “Whatever his past was, I have to find out. A man like Gabriel should not be locked up here on a mountain. We’re far from done.”
4
Mom, don’t die. I’ll come home.
Erica’s eyes opened. The images and the voice must have been a dream. Her mom had to be fine. Erica clenched her hands. Like her, Mom fought tooth and nail. Kimberly had no idea that Mom was sick.
Erica’s heart raced. She’d not fall asleep again. She wished her phone had service. As she stretched her back to get up, she turned on her bed toward the window. The sun burned her eyes. With a moan, she threw her pillow over her head, hoping it would block out the light.
There was nothing she could do. She tried to calm down and think of anything other than her nightmare. Visions of her mother, alone in her hospital bed, swirled in her head.
Erica gulped, and every breath was heavy. She had to think of something else. Her lips puckered. Gabriel’s kiss had warmed her. The sparks reverberated down her body. Last night, she had hoped to end her celibacy vow, even though she’d found that note about a woman’s death. She hugged herself and opened her eyes. Too many deaths in the house already? Seriously? His voice in her dream replayed that part all night. She couldn’t understand herself.
A quiver in her stomach helped her sit up, though she shook it off.
Crash.
Something cracked in the air, like a glass had shattered.
She glanced around the room in search for a broken item, but she didn’t see any shards. She chalked it up to her half-awake state. There was nothing wrong. She tilted her head for one more scan around the room, then frowned and fixated on the white world outside the window. The snow almost amplified the sunshine.
Snow mounted higher, but the glass was intact. Maine was so different from flat Miami. The green trees poked out of the white-capped mountains, and the valley near the house was so white. Not one scrap of dirt or rock could be seen for miles.
She sniffed the clean, fresh air and rolled her shoulders. She almost relaxed, but she swore she saw a shadow on the wall. The sound of something breaking had been close. A shiver crept up her spine, and her skin tingled. Was she being watched, even now?
Erica traced the wall but nothing was there. She turned back toward the window and the sunlight dimmed.
She glanced out and saw dark gray clouds in the distance. A wind held that incessant howl and raced past the glass pane. She licked her lips and stood to get a better look outside. The window panel had no cracks, and stayed sturdy, but the white snow glistened pure and clean up to the windowsill. The clouds meant another storm. A sigh escaped her throat. How much more could it snow?
She coughed, then cleared her throat, but she stayed quiet. What could she say? Gabriel was somewhere else, and she’d spent the night on her own.
Her shoulders were tight, and her fingers shook. Coldness overtook her, and she fought against a shiver. She rubbed and twisted her neck, but she was still tense. A shadow grew against the wall again, and the hair on the back of her head lifted. Was someone else with her?
To stop the scream in her throat, Erica called out, “Gabriel?”
No one answered, but she swore she heard the pitter-patter of an animal nearby. He didn’t have a dog, did he?
The shadow seemed more like a person. Relax. Everything about this was wrong. She combed her hair with her fingers and focused her gaze. She was in the bedroom Gabriel had pointed out last night. She tugged at her flannel pajamas and shifted on her feet.
A loud bang roared in the air. She winced, though that noise sounded far off inside the house. She tried to make out what that noise was, but she couldn’t be sure. After she pressed her ear to the wall, all she heard was her fast heartbeat. Imagination had never been something Erica had time for. She bit her bottom lip, then went to her closet to pull out some clothes and a pair of slippers.
A working phone would be her salvation. She massaged the bridge of her nose. Why had she abandoned her charger in the car?
Something caught her eye in the back of the closet. She peered closer and gazed at a book. Yesterday she’d ransacked the clothes and shoes and hadn’t seen this. Though she stretched, she reached backward, and almost stumbled the second she heard that bang again.
She coughed. “Is someone here?”
No answer came. She rubbed her neck. Her limbs shook, though she tried to rub her skin to stop the reaction.
Her hands twisted into fists for a split second before she relaxed. Again, she reached and clutched at black plastic material and grabbed the book from the closet. She caught her breath and found a seat at the vanity. Then she opened the front page to see she had a diary. Property of Tiffany Murphy. Murphy was Gabriel’s last name. She scratched her head and tried to figure out who Tiffany was. She flipped to the first page and read: Today is the day I marry Gabriel. I loved him the moment I saw him. Gabriel would be the perfect groom, on a perfect day, and no clouds of disillusionment would ever change this moment. Gabriel was so tense, though. I look at him, and I am not certain I truly have him. Will we be happy?
Erica’s heart beat and she settled into the back of the chair. The dead wife’s diary could give her some insights into Gabriel. She gulped. The handwriting matched the note in her mind, but she might be wrong. She had to be. She’d had only a momentary glance. But the same curves on the letter ‘e’ flashed in her memory.
The man had ripped the note out of her hand last night, had told her to forget it, and the memory flashed in her mind. But what if the note was a warning? Her breath caught in her throat. She forced herself to take a deep breath and decided, for now, to keep the discovery of the diary to herself. She’d read this firs
t.
Hopefully, first, she’d find the spot to make that call and be able to forget this house.
She went over and made her bed, then slid the book under the covers.
“Are you hungry?” Gabriel leaned on the door frame as he knocked. “I’m making breakfast.”
Gabriel’s brawny muscles stood out. His body flexed on its own, and she’d never seen a more perfect man. She opened her mouth but said nothing. No lock would keep a man out of his own house, and the thought chilled her till she met his gaze. Broad shoulders and intense eyes beckoned her to him. She was like a ship that neared a lighthouse.
“Are you okay?” He stared at her with his eyebrows raised.
She rolled her shoulders, then nodded. “I was going to cook breakfast.”
The wind howled and rattled the window. Her eyes flew to the side. Was that the noise? She stared at the wall and wondered if she saw a shadow of someone else. Her mind raced. Without a thought, she took a step back. Then she flinched again. She cringed, then gazed at him. She pasted a smile on her face. “Oh, okay. I’ll cook dinner for us.”
He shrugged and walked away.
She rubbed her forehead. With a nod, she let her heart slow its fast pace and calm down. To help, she fingered her phone in her back pocket again. At least she had a plan.
Stillness entered her mind for the moment, and she put on the slippers. Though her feet were too big for them, she made her way down the hall. Food nourished the soul and the family. Her father had died when she was young, and Mom had raised the two of them on her own. Her sister had walked away years ago. Erica shook her head and wiped away stray tears. She’d cook today. The emotional release when she cooked entered her every meal. In the kitchen, she was at peace. She could do something to bring people back together, and in her restaurant, families ate together. After she lost her dad, she had fed her family. Now, every day, until the storm, she fed other people’s families. One day, her missing sister would come home for good. A hot meal and her mom would be waiting for Kimberly. For now, Gabriel was all Erica had. He tried to be nice. Good food might steady Gabriel too, and make her less jumpy near him.
In the kitchen, she heard a cabinet slam shut. Every spice should be treated as important. A huge shadow much larger than anything on the walls in her bedroom darkened the halls. She clutched her stomach and followed Gabriel into the light. She stepped into the kitchen. His broadness dissipated the tension inside her. With jeans that clung to his hard body, every cell inside her became electrified.
“Morning.” He held the frying pan in his hands and showed her. The man had made her eggs and sausages.
With her mouth open slightly, she raked her eyes over him, stopping to gaze at his strong, manly shoulders before nodding at him. With a smile, she stared at his muscular arm. “Ordinarily, no one cooks for me.”
Without one word uttered, he placed a plate of food in front of her. Her proffered smile did not change his grim look.
She pushed the chair out next to him. “Please sit. Eat with me.”
“It’s better if I stay away from you.” He stared at the coffeemaker, not at her.
The lights flickered and she gasped.
He put his hand on her shoulder, then told her, “If the power goes out, I have a generator.”
His touch warmed her. “And the sounds in the walls?”
He massaged her muscles for a moment. “Old houses make noises.”
“Gabriel . . .” She needed to form her words. He stole her breath away. To calm her internal cravings, she bit her lip and met his gaze. “You’ve taken care of my every need since I arrived, except spending time talking. Can we try to be friends?”
Every muscle in his body stiffened, and he kept his hands on his sides. “It’s not a good idea.”
“You enjoyed kissing me, just as I enjoyed you. But I don’t chase after men who don’t want me.” She stared at her plate of food for a minute to catch her breath for strength before she steered her gaze to meet his eyes. “It will be easier for me if I understand why you don’t wish for us to even be friends.”
Darkness surrounded him. She stared at his huge hands; he refused to meet her gaze. At least he didn’t move. Slowly, with a strained voice, he told her, “I’ve been away from decent women like yourself for too long. In the Marines, I learned to kill, and I don’t trust myself near you.”
Something haunted him. It was in his stare, but whatever it was, she wasn’t frightened. His stiffness almost reminded her of someone at attention. Hmm.
“How long have you been out?” She offered him a tentative smile.
“Two years officially, but the year before it was on and off.” With an empty stare at the door, he told her, “My wife died two winters ago.”
She stood and took a step toward him to squeeze his hand if he’d let her. When she reached out, he shook his head, backed out of his chair, and walked out of the room. A primal need for attention, which had been denied, rose through her, but she let it go.
He kept his distance, and she should do the same. She reached behind her back to find her phone, and he raked his hands through his hair.
Her neck twisted so she could watch where he went, but he disappeared into the gloomy hall. A moment later, a door slammed. She flinched, then crossed her arms to stop the coldness that seeped into her spine.
In Miami, no one wore his heart on his sleeve, and that difference drew her to Gabriel.
She sat back down and stared at her full breakfast he had made her. She ate a little, but wasn’t hungry. Not for this. Her lips had tingled the other night from that kiss. Perhaps she lied to both of them that they could be friends. She bit her bottom lip and stared down the empty hallway full of shadows. Who was Gabriel?
While she placed her plate into the sink, she gazed out the window at the dreary day. The dark clouds were impossible to see, and whiteness flew everywhere. The window kept her inside, but fierce winds mixed with new snow made visibility impossible. She’d check the door again later. From the window it seemed hopeless to leave. Perhaps she could find a signal if she climbed higher in the house. The howl of the wind meant she was stuck here for who knew how long.
Fatigue hit her. When she closed her eyes, she prayed she could get back on the road. The whiteness would make it impossible, but she’d check in with her mother if she could. She stilled her mind, then she opened her eyes and didn’t blink once. She stared out, mesmerized at the rustle of pine trees in the snow.
Hopeless. There was no escape from this place. Not unless the police came on skis.
A jiggle of keys in the distance startled her. She jumped backward, and her heart raced. She needed to relax.
The lights flickered again, and her breath lodged in her throat.
A moment later the lights went out. She turned to stare at the hallway again. She’d go to her room, clean up, then figure out how bad this snow was.
It was a good idea to find a flashlight.
She muttered to herself, “I probably lost my bid for the bakery.”
In the end, she’d find another way to pay off the bills. She had no choice. With clenched hands, she walked down the hall and figured out her next move. Somewhere in the darkness, there was an end to this nightmare. An antenna to phone service existed somewhere.
* * *
In her warm room, with the fire, her body heated. Even after she stepped out of the shower, she gulped as she dried herself.
What if Gabriel killed his wife because of posttraumatic stress?
Her muscles jumped. Only crazy people gave in to every thought. The eerie quiet of the place must have messed with her mind, though she backed up a few inches and stubbed her heel on the bathtub.
Ouch. She picked up her leg and brushed it to shake off the pain. Slowly she moved the muscle.
In her room, she threw the clothes on, and she thankfully hadn’t wet her hair.
Crash.
What was that? Her memories never had a soundtrack before. Who or what wa
s here? She stared around but nothing stirred.
Her feet itched to run out the door, and her heart raced in her chest. The ill-fitting shirt didn’t cover her midriff and pinched at her chest, but she threw a sweater over it, then a sweatshirt.
She had no boots, though. Her feet would not squeeze into another’s woman’s four-sizes-too-small shoes. Without another thought, she ran out and checked her sneakers on the floor. They were still wet. The slippers would have to suffice.
A loud scratch echoed in her ear, like something clawing at the wall, and she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her belly. When it stopped, her nostrils flared.
She’d swear she had seen the shadow of a small woman, but that was impossible.
In a heartbeat, she slipped on the slippers and made a run for it. She could make it to the door. In the now dimly lit hall, she swept her hand across her forehead while she told herself not to be irrational, or let that tension in the air spook her.
The wind thundered past the nearest window, and Erica couldn’t see beyond the white snow that blanketed the entire glass.
Everything had to be fine. She stilled. Gabriel had been nothing but good to her. She clenched and unclenched her hand. Then she relaxed and entered the kitchen. Finally, her breaths stopped the burst and contract hard cycle of in and out. She could inhale a deep breath, and she stared at the stove and let the crazy fear subside.
Old houses made noises. Today she’d find a signal and call the hospital. She repeated to herself, “Everything will be fine.”
In Miami, all houses were new and didn’t need to settle. Her friends from up north always mentioned the difference. Calmly she made her way out of the kitchen to check out the library.
She turned on the phone and stared at the bright colors on the screen. The batter was still low and she had no service.
Without the storm, she could check out the chateau. Somewhere there could be a signal. Outside the place had looked huge, her beacon to salvation in the dark storm. The place was much bigger than the small, cozy apartment inside.
Hidden Gabriel Page 5
