by Jill Shalvis
She could simply get up, take her medicine and a sleeping pill as usual, and be fine until morning. But she didn't want to do that; she wanted to be fine without help.
Sighing, she closed her eyes. Then jerked them open again as the macabre memories of blood and death flashed across her lids.
"Okay, okay," she murmured to herself until her breathing slowed and her heart thudded dully. You're okay. Alive.
But Dani and Frederick weren't. And she had no way of knowing about poor Lloyd Branson, her kind boss. Or Bob. Alda seemed okay, but was she safe?
Haley froze.
Could one of them have been responsible? No. No. She refused to think about them in the same thought as betrayal. They wouldn't. Couldn't.
But who else knew of the now destroyed system and how much it was worth?
Sitting up, she threw the pillow across the small room. The violent gesture cheered her considerably as she gave herself a tough talk, reminding herself it was past time to shelve the self-pity—and the ulcer—and get on with it.
Max whined softly and looked at her. "It's all right," she said quietly, feeling badly for having scared the little fellow. He looked worried, so serious with that wrinkled forehead. She petted him, then even smiled when he became a boneless, wriggling mass of happiness.
How tempting this life suddenly was. No pressure.
Here she wasn't just a brain. Here she was a real person, with real feelings. Here, for the first time in her entire life, she had a true friend. One who liked her not for her IQ, but for just who she was.
Pulling the beautiful homemade quilt to her chin, Haley inhaled the fragrance of the dried flowers on the lovely oak dresser and allowed herself a smile when Max again settled on her feet with a little grunt. "You like it here, too, huh?" She couldn't blame him. The main house was a dream come true, huge and airy, and decorated with a homey, welcoming charm.
The people inside were the same. She liked Nellie's husband, Jason. Liked the way be absolutely doted on Nellie. Zach seemed quiet and reserved, but had a smile nearly as devastating as… Haley's own soft smile faded as she thought of the other brother. Cameron Reeves.
She could list his obvious faults in her head: overtly charming—a fault because she didn't trust "charming"; far too gorgeous for his own good; eyes melting with sensuality—okay, not a fault, but close enough; and a heart of gold. This last she considered a fault only because it made one vulnerable. But he also had another side. There was an edge there; a hard, dangerous side she didn't understand. Didn't want to. She had her own problems.
She liked cool, calm and collected, and she wanted those around her to be the same. But she suspected Cameron was none of those things. No. He was a man who felt, and felt deeply, and didn't mind it a bit. She'd seen the proof of that when he'd allowed Nellie to take her home simply because she had nowhere else to go. Thankful as she was, that just seemed plain crazy.
Or did it? Were there really people in this world who cared so much about the welfare of others?
Haley hadn't missed how Cam had looked at her, and just the remembering had her stomach doing a slow roll. He wasn't simply kind and gentle. He had much more depth than that. He had a rough, sensual facet that scared her. No man had ever looked at her as he did. Actually, men rarely looked at her at all.
And if this was what it did to one's insides, she simply couldn't handle it. She'd have to tell him … what? Stop looking at me with those sexy eyes that make me think with my hormones? She snickered at herself, disgusted.
She'd needed to disappear to save her life—and she had. But good Lord, at what cost?
* * *
Chapter 2
« ^ »
Surprisingly enough, once Haley fell asleep, she didn't budge again until a light knock sounded on her door. Instantly, she came awake, and moaning at the sunlight streaming through her window, she leaped guiltily out of bed.
She'd overslept on her first morning of work.
She ran across the bedroom, mentally berating herself for screwing things up so soon, then nearly killed herself and Max, when they got tangled together on their race to the door.
Skidding to a stop, she looked down in dismay. She wore only a chemise and her panties, having had nothing else to sleep in. "Uh … who is it?" she called out, running an agitated hand through her mop of short hair.
"It's Nellie."
The warm cheerful voice went a long way in relieving both Haley and Max. He started a happy whine, but still, Haley hesitated. Surely if everyone was annoyed she'd messed up already, Nellie wouldn't sound so friendly.
"Haley? Are you there? I thought you might want to— Oh, hell." Haley could hear Nellie's frustrated sigh through the door. "Haley, there's no polite way to say this, and I don't want to hurt your feelings.—"
"I'm fired," Haley said flatly, her stomach tightening. She leaned her forehead against the door. She'd been an idiot to think she could handle this, even for a short time.
"No! No, that's not it at all. Haley, honey, do you think you could open the door?"
Haley glanced around and picked up the light quilt thrown over the back of a chair. She wrapped it around her, and with a fatalistic shrug, opened the door. "I'm so sorry—"
"No, wait," Nellie implored, her hands full of what looked like stacks of clothes. "I just brought you some things. I thought you might need…" She trailed off, looking sheepish as Max barked joyously, obviously thrilled to find two of his favorite people together. "I scared you, I didn't mean to. I know you need something to wear. Max, please, be quiet a minute."
Haley pulled the quilt tighter, thinking if she'd ever been more mortified, she couldn't remember. "I'll be fine. I don't need—"
"No. No, don't get embarrassed, please," Nellie said quickly, her eyes full of compassion and nothing that even closely resembled pity, thank God. "I don't want that. Max!" she warned the yipping, wriggling puppy. "Put a lid on it."
"I don't want to take your clothes." It was hard to remain dignified wearing nothing more than a borrowed quilt, but Haley had to try. It was all she had left. "Please, try to understand. This is very difficult for me. I'm not used to needing—"
"Just let me do this." Nellie dropped the clothes onto the couch and sighed as she stretched her back. Ruefully, she glanced down. "I'm wearing maternity clothes now, anyway, so you might as well have these. I know I'm pushing this on you, and it's not because I feel sorry for you." She laughed lightly as she straightened. "It's because I feel sorry for me. I want a friend here, Haley. I love my husband and his brothers dearly, but sometimes … I get lonely."
Haley could understand that. Yes, she'd led a team of five for long months in tight quarters. But she was young, always so much younger than everyone she worked with. The gap between her and the others could bridge the Grand Canyon. Even she and Alda, the only other American female, hadn't become more than casual acquaintances. Lloyd, a quiet, unpretentious man, had taken her under his wing, but Haley didn't fool herself; he'd needed her brain. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd made a real friend to share personal things with. One who had nothing to do with work.
And suddenly, she wanted that more than anything.
"Please, take these clothes from me," Nellie begged softly, stooping for the wildly excited puppy, nuzzling him close. "And know it's just me pushing our friendship, not me dishing out pity."
"I don't know what to say," Haley said slowly, unbearably touched. She pulled the quilt tighter around her.
Nellie let Max go and folded her hands beneath her bulging belly. Her eyes were wide and earnest; her smile, shy and needy. An inexplicable urge to cry overcame Haley. She'd been on her own for so long, she could hardly remember what it was like to have someone think of her, but she didn't remember it having been this nice. "Thank you," she said softly, then found she could laugh, after all. "You saved me from cooking breakfast in my underwear."
"Now that's a sight that would have had the guys silent for a change," N
ellie said, with a matching laugh. The tension left her face. "I'm glad you're here. And I'm glad I didn't insult you."
Haley eyed Nellie's nicely curved hips and full bust that even pregnancy couldn't hide. "What's insulting is that I won't be able to fill out these clothes as well as you."
Nellie laughed again. "At least you can see your feet." She let the puppy go, then swiped her hands down her jeans-covered thighs nervously. "Uh, Haley?"
"Yeah?"
"You can cook, can't you?"
Haley smiled. "Now's a fine time to ask."
Nellie smiled back. "I mean, I don't really care whether you can or not—I want you here anyway—but the guys are going to wake up in about twenty minutes, starving as usual."
"They'll be fed," Haley vowed. From the moment the two women had met in the crowded airport, something had clicked. Nellie had somehow seen past Haley's distant, calm exterior to the real person inside. Maybe because she had no idea who Haley was and what she was capable of, but it didn't matter. Haley had a real friend—and she didn't intend to blow it.
Which didn't change the fact that she hadn't the foggiest idea how to cook. From a very young age, she'd been squirreled away in schools for child prodigies; then she'd been busy studying for her various degrees before she'd settled down four years ago, at the age of twenty-one, to study earth movement. In South America, as in all the other places, there had always been a local paid to work as their live-in, since the geologists' long, exhausting hours didn't allow much time for cooking or cleaning.
In all those years, Haley had never spent more than five minutes in a kitchen, but she had no doubt she could tackle it. After all, she decided with forced confidence, like anything else, it was simply a matter of mastering the technique. She was good at that.
Though she hoped to God she found a cookbook in that kitchen.
* * *
A few minutes later, garbed in a pair of jeans and a sweater, both of which were slightly too big in all the wrong places, Haley found herself in the kitchen of the main house.
Nellie looked at her expectantly.
Haley smiled, hopefully reassuringly. "Go. Go do … whatever it is you do. I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?" Obviously, Nellie was less than certain about Haley's abilities. She rubbed her lower back as if it ached. "Let me help you this first time."
"I'm the housekeeper," Haley said firmly. "And I'm ordering you out of my kitchen." She needed to be alone for this. Especially if she was going to make a fool of herself.
"Okay," Nellie said, drawing out the word. She moved reluctantly to the door. "Well, I'll be with the horses. Everyone tends to gather here about seven for food. That gives you some time yet." Still, she hesitated by the door. "Haley, are you sure you don't want me to help you? It's really okay to tell me."
"I'll be fine," she repeated, trying to remain calm. God, the kitchen was huge. Despite the coolness of the morning, sweat pooled at the base of her spine. She watched Nellie reluctantly leave and she bit her lip. Could she really do this?
She had to. With no money and nowhere else to go, what choice did she have? She couldn't come out of hiding, not until she figured out what to do. She couldn't withdraw money without fear of being traced. And for now she couldn't even call for help, not until she had some hint of who was involved, or until she could clear herself. No doubt, she was in a mess.
With a firm sigh of resolution, Haley searched the kitchen, familiarizing herself. Humming with triumph, she pounced on the shelf of cookbooks she found and buried herself in her new work with the same focus and single-mindedness she tackled everything.
That was exactly how Cameron found her, twenty minutes later—bent over two pans, both steaming from the heat, her brow crinkled in such fierce concentration, she might have been studying Latin instead of cooking. He took a minute to admire how perfectly adorable she looked in jeans. And how perfectly behaved his precocious puppy seemed, sitting at her feet.
"Do you always frown when you cook?"
She jumped in surprise, then made him smile when she shooed him off with a hand. "Go away," she said rudely, turning back to whatever she was stirring. "It's not ready yet."
He would have liked to oblige her, but something smelled so absolutely delicious, his mouth started to water. He moved closer, but whether to satisfy his belly or his strange need to be near her, he didn't know. "I'm starving. What's cooking?"
She spared him a quick, frustrated look. "I need a few more minutes."
"Eggs?" he asked hopefully, trying to catch a glimpse over her shoulder.
The woman actually tried to muscle him out of the way so he couldn't see. "Come on," he cajoled. "Let me look. Mmm. Is that an omelet?"
Her blue-eyed gaze flew to his and he wondered at the surprise he saw there. "Is that what it looks like?" she asked hopefully.
"Yeah, and it looks scrumptious." He leaned over, his body brushing up against hers. She moved away instantly. Max didn't, and yelped when his tail got stepped on.
"I said go away," she mumbled again. "Don't you cowboys hear?"
He smiled. Damned if he didn't like her. "You should know, such sweet talk turns me on." He sniffed appreciatively over her shoulder. As always, he was famished. "God almighty, so does that smell. What is it?"
"It's soap. I don't wear perfume." She swatted at him.
He grinned. "I was talking about the food, sugar. But you smell good, too." Moving in closer, he sniffed in exaggeration at her ear, earning a smack in the chest that had him laughing out loud.
"You fool," she exclaimed, never taking her eyes off whatever smelled so good, but a reluctant quirk of her lips softened her words. Encouraged, he nudged even closer, hoping to talk her into a spoonful, and discovered—perfume or not—she did smell as good as the food.
"Back off," she warned, rolling a shoulder into his chest when he crowded her again.
He did back off, but only because he'd felt her stiffen when he'd touched her, and that quick flicker of something that might have been fear in her eyes bothered him. When her shoulders slumped imperceptibly in relief, he slipped his hands into his pockets and studied her thoughtfully. She wasn't easy around friendly teasing, or maybe just men, and even now she stood there trying to ignore the fact that he watched her. It might be a while before she felt comfortable with the rambunctious bantering he was used to. But he figured, being the patient man he was, he could wait.
Besides, the waiting was half the fun. So he backed off and winked at Max, who lolled his tongue as if to say, I was here first, buddy. Wait in line.
"Food!" Jason exclaimed, staggering into the kitchen, adjusting his arm sling. "Is that really—dare I ask—real food you're cooking?"
"Thank God," Zach said reverently as he moved into the kitchen, as well. He caught a plate in midair when Jason tossed it to him from the cabinet. "It sure smells real."
Cam watched as Haley smiled at his brothers, and damn her if it wasn't an easy, carefree smile.
"It all depends on what you call real food," she said.
Zach moved in close to look, as Cam had done only a moment before. He, too, sniffed in appreciation. Cam waited gleefully. He was going to enjoy watching Haley set down his brother, who in Cam's opinion could use it.
Nothing happened. Except Haley actually moved out of his brother's way to let him see.
Okay, Cameron thought, eyeing his older brother speculatively. Cam knew he and Zach looked alike, with their sun-streaked light brown hair, brown eyes, tall and rangy bodies—but that was where the resemblance ended. Somehow he hadn't thought Zach's quiet, reserved nature would appeal to Haley.
Or maybe he'd just hoped.
Haley laughed at something Jason said; the sweet, musical sound ringing in his ears. Cameron seriously considered hurting his brother, but it would take too much energy. Besides, he was damn hungry.
Zach inhaled deeply, smiled gently at Haley and grabbed a fork. Smiling back, Haley dished out a heaping helping for him. Jason pushed
his way in, grinned at Haley from ear to ear, and also earned himself a full plate.
"I'm starving, too," Cam said, muscling his way back to her and grabbing his own plate. But when he held it out to Haley, she just looked at him blankly. "Smells great," he added, with his most charming, gotta-love-me smile. He gestured with his very empty plate, watching out of the corner of his eye as Zach and Jason dug in with gusto.
Haley put her hands on her hips and stared at him. "Serve yourself."
Jason laughed, then choked it back into a cough at the murderous look Cam sent him. Ducking his head, he shoveled food into his mouth, unable to contain his knowing grin. "Tough luck, brother," Jason said around a mouthful. "It's terrific, Haley."
"Thanks," she said sweetly, then scowled at Cam. "You're in my way."
She was crazy about him, Cam decided, scooping his own food. Now all he had to do was get her to admit it.
* * *
Cooking had been as easy as following the given formula. Or in this case, the recipe. Haley was still riding on the high of that as she contemplated the big, silent, and very messy house.
She didn't have to work, she knew that. She could keep running. Or better yet, make a decision on what to do. But for so many years, she'd been thinking so hard, always pushing herself. For now, just for now, she needed a break.
Nellie had gone into Colorado Springs to have her nails done, claiming she knew exactly how vain it was, but didn't care. If she had to be fat, she'd said with a good-natured laugh, she wanted to at least have good nails.
The guys were off doing whatever ranch people did. Haley had no idea what that was, exactly, but assumed it had something to do with the heavy beating of horse hooves and shouts she'd heard leave not too long ago.
Cleaning was truly a whole new ball game for her. The physical aspect of it felt good, she discovered immediately. Digging out a bucket of cleaning supplies that looked as if it hadn't been used in a while, she attacked the kitchen first. The instructions on the pine-scented cleaner claimed it cleaned tile to a perfect shine.
