“What?” Betty asked innocently. “You know very well that I’m partial to brown eyes.”
“Oh, really? Then how come you were going on and on about Dr. Cullen’s eyes just this morning? ‘They’re the most gorgeous shade of blue,’” Vivian mimicked. She brought her clasped hands up to her cheek. “‘When he looks at me, I swear, I could just lose myself in those eyes.’”
Betty bristled at the imitation. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have a boyfriend.”
“And you do?”
“I…might.”
“Who is he?” Viv demanded.
“You don’t know him.”
“I don’t know him?” her friend asked in disbelief. “I know everyone you know.”
Betty smiled. “That’s what you think.”
“Then who is he? What’s his name? And why have I never seen you with him?”
“A woman never divulges all her secrets.” Betty’s smile turned cagey. “Isn’t that right, Zac?” She batted her lashes so fast and so furiously that Zac worried she might take flight.
Before he could respond, a voice said from the twilight, “I didn’t know we were having a party tonight. I would have tried to get home earlier.”
At the sound of Camille’s voice, guilt shot through Zac although he had no idea why. His visit with Viv and Betty was innocent enough, and, besides, he and Camille were hardly more than strangers.
But the guilt persisted, and he got awkwardly to his feet. “The girls just came out to see how I’m getting along.”
“Did they?”
At her frigid tone, the nurses rose hastily, as well. “My goodness, where did the time go? We really should be getting back to town.”
“Yes, we have to go,” Viv agreed. “Thank you so much for the lemonade. It’s nice to see that you’re doing so well after such a painful ordeal.”
“It’s almost dark,” Zac said. “Maybe I should walk you back to town.”
“Nonsense. We’ll be fine—” Viv’s words were cut off on a grunt when Betty nudged her in the ribs.
“Well, if you insist…” Betty said.
Vivian turned to glare at her friend. “It’s five miles into town and back. Mr. Riley is still recuperating.”
“Of course. What was I thinking?” Betty murmured. “It’s just that you look so…healthy.” Her gaze admired him until Viv grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the road.
“I still don’t feel right about this,” Zac called after them. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you at least part of the way?”
Before the blonde could answer, Viv said, “Betty’s uncle lives just down the road. We promised we’d drop by and see him on our way back. He’ll give us a ride into town.”
After their voices had faded in the distance, Camille brushed past Zac and went inside the house. He waited for a minute, then followed her.
She didn’t look up when he walked in, but continued to fiddle with the radio.
“I found some tools in the shed out back,” he informed her. “I’ll get to work on the roof first thing in the morning.”
She remained silent.
“Are you upset about something?” he finally asked.
She glanced up, her blue eyes glittering with anger. “Why would I be upset?”
“I don’t know. But it’s obvious something has you all hot and bothered. If you’re mad because the girls dropped by—”
She snapped off the radio so violently the knob came loose in her hand. She threw it against the couch. “If you want to entertain your girlfriends while I’m at work, that’s your business. But I would just as soon you find someplace else to do it.”
Zac stared at her in disbelief. “They’re not my girlfriends. They’re nurses who happened to take very good care of me while I was in the hospital.”
“Yes, I saw the way they took care of you.” Camille gave him a scornful glance. “If they give every patient the same treatment, I’m surprised anyone ever leaves the hospital.”
“Are you jealous?” Zac asked incredulously. Hopefully.
Her eyes widened in outrage. “Jealous? Jealous? Why on earth would I be jealous? I couldn’t care less whom you spend time with.”
“Really?” Zac cocked his head as he continued to study her. “Because you could sure fool me with this attitude of yours.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I might want to come home from a long day at work to some peace and quiet?”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you invited me to stay here. Which brings me back to something I’ve been wondering about for days. Why did you invite me here?”
“We’ve been through this before,” she said wearily. “You needed a place to stay and I had a spare room for rent. I thought it would be a beneficial arrangement for both of us.”
“Even though I don’t have a job? No visible means of support? But there’s always that leaky roof, right?”
“The roof, the porch.” She shrugged. “A dozen things need attention around here, but if the arrangement isn’t working for you, then by all means, find yourself other accommodations. Stay, go. Do what you want. I’m going to bed.”
She started out of the room, but Zac quickly crossed the floor and caught her arm. She whirled to glare up at him. “Let go of me.”
He did so immediately, but there was still a connection between them. A bond that Zac didn’t understand, but he was pretty sure she did.
“About last night—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said angrily.
“Well, I do. What happened between us doesn’t happen between strangers. It felt right. It felt…familiar.”
“I’m not surprised.” Her eyes blazed up at him. “You obviously have a penchant for female company.”
“That’s not what it was, and you know it. There’s something between us, Camille. Why won’t you be honest about it? Is it because…you still have feelings for your son’s father?”
She stared at him in shock, and for a moment her face crumpled, as if she was about to lose control of her emotions. Then she stiffened her spine and hardened her resolve. When she looked up at him again, her mask was firmly back in place. “Leave me alone, Zac. Just…leave me alone.”
Chapter Ten
Camille’s eyes flew open at the sound of a creaking floor. Someone was walking through the house. A moment later, she heard the back door open and close softly as someone exited.
Rising quietly, she slipped across the room to the window and stared out. She saw nothing at first, but then she spotted Zac hurrying from the house, and a moment later, he disappeared into the trees on the ridge.
Camille quickly dressed, then slipped her gun into her bag, grabbed a flashlight from her dresser and raced out of the house.
Picking her way along the trail, she paused now and then to listen to the darkness. When she arrived at the clearing, Zac was nowhere to be seen. She assumed he’d entered the mine, but she had no idea what he was up to.
She stepped through the opening and paused just inside to listen once again. All was silent at first, but then from somewhere deep in the tunnel, she heard what might have been footsteps.
Following the sound, she angled her flashlight beam at the floor hoping to avoid detection. About a hundred yards or so in, she saw light emanating from one of the other tunnels and she quickly doused her own light.
Creeping toward the opening, she pressed herself against the wall, waited a heartbeat, then peered around. A lantern hung from a peg on the wall, and a bedroll had been flung in one corner, along with several tins of food.
Wooden crates were stacked against one wall, and tools had been scattered about on the floor.
But still no Zac.
Was this his hideout? Camille wondered. Had he brought all this stuff in here?
She ducked her head and stepped into the small roomlike tunnel. Walking over to the crates, she checked to see if she could open one, but the lids were nailed shut.
>
Glancing around for something to pry open the tops, she spotted a crowbar among the tools on the floor, grabbed it, and then set to work on the nearest crate.
She was so busy at the task that she failed to see the shadow on the wall looming over her until it was too late.
Slowly she lifted her head as the hair on the back of her neck prickled in warning. Everything went still inside her. But even as fear shot through her veins, her hand tightened around the crowbar as she readied herself for battle.
Before she could even turn, a strong hand grabbed her wrist. Another hand clamped over her mouth, and a voice whispered in her ear, “Don’t move. Don’t even breathe.”
STRUGGLING FIERCELY to free herself, Camille bit his hand, and Zac stifled a curse. “What are you trying to do, get us both killed?” he said against her ear. “They’re coming back. We’ve have to get out of here.”
He dragged her to the entrance, and when she put up no resistance, he thought it safe to release her. The moment he freed her, she spun to face him, her eyes blazing in the lantern light, but when he put a finger to his lips, she nodded.
She followed him into the main tunnel, and he took her hand, guiding her along the narrow passageway until they came to another opening. He pulled her inside, and only then did Camille speak.
“What’s going on? What’s in those crates—”
She broke off at the sound of distant voices. As they drew nearer, she clutched Zac’s arm.
They stood in total darkness. He couldn’t see her expression, but he could hear her rapid breathing. When she pressed against him to lift her mouth to his ear, her breasts grazed his chest, and the only sound Zac heard then was the pounding of his own heart.
“Who are they?” she whispered.
He shook his head. When she didn’t move away, Zac put his arm around her, pulling her even closer. She didn’t resist. Not for a moment. It was probably her fear that made her so willing, but Zac wanted to believe it was something else.
Resting his head against the wall, he tried to get a grip on his emotions. This was crazy, he told himself. Totally insane. They were both in danger here. The world was at risk and all he could think about was how she felt in his arms. How much he wanted to kiss her.
The voices grew louder, then faded as the interlopers stepped into the tunnel containing the crates. All was silent for a moment, then the woman’s laughter echoed through the darkness. The laughter soon turned into murmurs and then groans of ecstasy.
CAMILLE SQUEEZED HER EYES closed in embarrassment. She wasn’t a prude, but eavesdropping on someone else’s lovemaking was hardly an activity she enjoyed.
On the other hand…
The feel of Zac’s body against hers was something that held great appeal. He was in perfect shape. Lean and muscular. A man in his prime.
And Camille was a woman who hadn’t had any man in a very long time. Not since Zac had left in the middle of the night five years ago.
Don’t think about that now, she warned herself.
But…she had to think about it. She had to remember how easily he’d left when Von Meter had summoned him. It wasn’t his fault. Camille knew that. He hadn’t left of his own accord, but the result had been the same. He’d abandoned her, and now she couldn’t trust him. She would be a fool to trust him.
Presently the moans subsided, and after a few moments, the two lovers left the mine.
Camille tried to pull away, but Zac held her against him. His lips brushed her hair, and only then did he release her.
THEY DIDN’T SPEAK UNTIL they were home, safely inside the cottage. Camille placed her bag on the kitchen table and turned expectantly. “What was all that up there? Who were those people?”
“I’d hoped to find that out tonight,” Zac said, running a hand through his hair. “Then you came along and my plans had to change.”
“Are you saying you knew they were going to be there?”
He shrugged. “If not tonight, another night. I knew they’d come back sooner or later for the contents in those crates.”
“What’s in those crates?”
He hesitated. “Enough explosives to take out this whole ridge.”
Camille’s eyes widened. “Saboteurs?”
“I’d say that’s a distinct possibility,” Zac said grimly.
“Then we have to stop them. We have to—” Camille broke off as her grandfather’s warning came back to her. “You mustn’t interfere with history, Camille. No matter how tempted. No matter how justified your actions seem. You are there for no other reason than to contain Von Meter’s madness.”
She walked over and glanced out the window, a chill going up her spine. “We’re constantly warned at work to be on the lookout for signs of espionage, but a terrorist act—”
“A what?”
Too late, Camille realized her mistake. Terrorism had been around for centuries, but the term had not come into wide use until well after World War II.
“Sabotage,” she corrected.
He looked at her strangely. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you aren’t telling me about all this?”
“There’s not. I don’t know any more than you do.”
His gaze narrowed. “I think you do know. I think you know a hell of a lot more than I do. I think there’s a reason you used the term terrorist so casually. It’s the same reason you didn’t question my use of the Heimlich maneuver on Billy and the same reason you invited me into your home. And do you know what else I think?” He moved slowly toward her.
Camille trembled at the look in his eyes.
“I think you are a very dangerous woman.”
CAMILLE TOOK A LONG BATH before bed that night, hoping the hot water would help her relax and help her avoid Zac.
He was asking too many questions, putting two and two together, and she didn’t know what to do about it. How to head him off. She’d gotten careless, slipped up, and now the whole mission could be in jeopardy.
Maybe she should just come clean with him, Camille thought as she finally climbed out of the tub and toweled off. Appeal to that part of him not under Von Meter’s control. The part of him that might still harbor feelings for her.
But those feelings hadn’t been strong enough before, and Camille saw no reason to believe the situation would turn out any different now. She couldn’t trust him. She didn’t dare trust him. It was as simple as that.
She pulled her nightgown over her head, then opened the door and glanced out. The house was dark and quiet, and she assumed Zac had already turned in. Slipping into her bedroom, Camille closed the door and got into bed, hoping that a good night’s sleep might help her see things more clearly in the morning.
But she’d no sooner drifted off than a loud banging on her bedroom door startled her awake. Her eyes flew open and she bolted upright in bed.
“Camille? Open the door. I want to talk to you.”
Camille didn’t want to talk to him. That was the last thing she wanted. She drew the covers up around her. “Can it wait until morning?”
“No. Open the door.”
When she still hesitated, Zac said angrily, “Open the damn door, Camille, or I swear I’ll break it down.”
Getting out of bed, she pulled on her robe as she hurried across the room. She only meant to open the door a crack, but Zac was having none of that. He put his hand against the wood and pushed, forcing Camille to step back. Then he flung the door open and stood on the threshold, glaring down at her.
“Who are you?”
“You…know who I am.”
“I don’t know a damn thing about you, and yet…” His expression made Camille shiver. “I know you.”
“I told you before. You remember me from the mine—”
“Is that so?” His icy gaze swept over her. “Then how do you explain this?” Her gold locket gleamed in the moonlight as he held it up.
Camille’s hand flew to her throat. She’d taken off the necklace before her bath, then forgotten to
put it back on. Zac had found it, opened it and now he knew. Everything.
“If we’re nothing but strangers, why do you wear a picture of me in your locket?” he demanded.
Camille had no ready explanation. She stared at him helplessly.
He opened the locket and gazed down at the pictures inside. “The boy…he’s your son?”
She nodded.
“Why do I know him?”
“You don’t,” Camille said.
But he didn’t seem to hear her. He studied the tiny photograph, his expression a mixture of anger, confusion and wonder. “Why do I know his face, his voice?”
Camille put a trembling hand to her mouth.
“I know him, Camille. I’ve seen him. I’ve even dreamed about him.”
She gasped. “That’s not possible.” And yet he’d awakened from his coma asking about Adam.
Zac lifted his gaze. “Why do you keep a picture of your son next to mine? Answer me, damn you.”
Camille drew a long breath. “Because he was your son.”
Chapter Eleven
He couldn’t have looked more stunned if she’d slapped him. He turned toward the door, and Camille thought that he meant to leave, but then he whirled, grabbed her arms and backed her up against the wall.
Camille didn’t cower from him. She stood her ground and stared him in the eye. “It’s true. You were Adam’s father.”
His grasp tightened. “It can’t be true. You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying, Zac.”
His gaze burned into hers. “You have to be. Because it’s not possible. I’ve never been here before. Do you understand?”
She drew another breath. “Yes. But you said it yourself earlier. There’s a reason why I didn’t have questions about how you saved Billy, or why I used the term terrorist so easily.”
Realization sparked in his eyes, and then his expression hardened. “You came through the wormhole?”
“Yes.”
Secret Passage Page 11
