Hiding Out At The Circle C

by Jill Shalvis

  "I thought you were working."

  "The work'll wait."

  "But—"

  "Shh. Just listen, it's beautiful."

  It seemed decadent. Wasting precious moments sitting on a bench, with a man she didn't really know, watching nothing but time go by. Haley hadn't spent much time in leisure, if any. Her time had never been her own. But the wild sky, churning and venting violence like a casual whim, had caught her. She couldn't look away.

  "You'll be hungry," she said during a brief lull, feeling as if she had to say something.

  "No." His face was turned upward, raptly watching as flash after flash of lightning exploded like a fireworks display, streaking the sky with jagged lines of light.

  "I really should go—"

  For a man who looked so at ease, lounging back against the bench, he sure could move fast, reaching for her with a hand corded with strength. "Come on, Ms. Restless, just sit a minute. Can't you do that?" His eyes sparkled with amusement.

  "Just sit and watch the rain?"

  "Just sit and watch the rain. You don't always have to be doing something. Or do you?"

  His eyes were as dark as the night, and surprisingly, as full of secrets, but not necessarily happy ones. His scent floated on the wind; an intriguing mix of horses, wood and pure man. On her chilled arm, the warmth of his hand soaked into her, and even as she thought it, his fingers loosened to run along the length of her skin, causing a strange sort of shiver.

  "You're cold."

  Goodness, he was dangerous to her pulse. "I'm fine."

  He shook his head. "You're stubborn, is what you are." He moved the now sleeping Max off his lap to the bench and slid closer to her until his body brushed against hers. She didn't want to think about how deliciously warm he felt. "Now watch. The rain's coming."

  Another surprise—somewhere over the past few minutes, her loneliness had vanished, along with her nervousness about the dark night. She didn't want to think about the reasons for that, but she had to laugh when he casually stretched his long arm over the back of her shoulders.

  "What?" he asked, blinking innocently.

  She stared pointedly at his work-roughened fingers, settled inches from her shoulder, then turned to him. "Your move. It wasn't very subtle."

  He sighed. "Just like a woman, you can't be quiet for five seconds."

  Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to retort.

  "Shh." He squeezed her shoulder gently, then pointed. "Look."

  The first drop fell, then another. Within a split second, the sky had simply opened itself up, dumping upon the dry and crusted earth below. Each individual, fat drop bounced off the ground with a little ping. More lightning. More thunder. Ping, ping, ping. Fascinated by the unexpected concert of nature, she sat mesmerized.

  They stayed there in silence, simply enjoying the night. She found that since she'd made the decision to call the USGS in the morning, she felt better. So she sat, content.

  Even when she shivered again, she didn't want to move, for the lightning came at regular intervals, marring the black sky and riveting her gaze. She'd seen storms before—hundreds—but never anything like this.

  She hadn't forgotten about Cameron; that would have been impossible. He filled her senses. She felt him, watched him, could almost taste him. He pulled her closer, and she realized she was shaking with cold. "I'd give you my jacket," he drawled in her ear with a husky voice that invoked its own shiver. "But I already did."

  And she hadn't returned it. Remorse hit her and she started to rise. "I'm sorry—"

  He held her close. "Don't be. Just make sure you don't wash it before you give it back."

  "Why?" She made the mistake of looking at him. His dark, heavy-lidded eyes smoldered.

  "I want it to smell like you." He leaned close, laughing a little when she flinched at the drum of thunder.

  She pulled her head back and stumbled over her words. "The storm was beautiful, thanks, but I've got to go."

  "You ought to do that more," he said, letting her go this time when she pulled away.

  She reached the back door. "Do what?"

  "Relax." Standing, he stretched lazily, then came toward her with that same long-legged easy grace she'd admired in Zach. Only this time, in Cameron, it didn't seem quite so harmless.

  As for Cam, he wished he didn't invoke that particular expression on her face—the one that clearly stated how uneasy she felt around him, how wary she still was. Wanting to delay her, he said, "It's early yet. Want to sit some more?"

  Haley hesitated, her hand on the door as if ready to bolt at the slightest movement from him. "What for?"

  He laughed. "Just because. We could watch the storm again, or just talk."

  She shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. I really have—"

  "I know," he said, shaking his head. "You have stuff to do. Well, it's my stuff and it can wait."

  She sighed and looked away. "You don't put a very high priority on work, do you?"

  "The work will always be there." He moved closer. "But fun… That's another thing entirely. You have to grab it when you can."

  "Hmm."

  "Now take today…" She tensed and he knew she expected him to grill her about the barn incident, but he didn't work that way. "When you caught your first glimpse of Margaret—" he grinned wide "—that was fun."

  "I see." One brow rose haughtily, her chin lifted.

  Despite his good intentions to remain distant and wary, he liked her. Especially when she used that prim, annoyed tone as a defense. He pictured her as a teacher, and not for the first time, wondered exactly what it was she'd done before. "Fun is easy, Haley. Everyone likes fun."

  "It has its time and place," she admitted. "But there are other things."

  Her blue eyes were full of mysteries he could only guess at as she watched the rain fall. "Like what?"

  "Like responsibility."

  "Something I'd guess you'd be very good at." Because he couldn't resist touching her, he tucked a wayward strand of silky dark hair behind her ear. "What is it you really do, Haley?"

  She licked her lips when he stepped closer, but didn't move away or object. "I told you, I'm a housekeeper."

  "Now, maybe."

  "You don't think I've done this before?"

  Nellie had told him she'd caught Haley sitting on the kitchen floor, avidly reading the directions on a bottle of pine-scented cleaner, muttering to herself. She'd thought it cute and meticulous, but to Cam, it told him much more than that. It told him she wasn't used to using it. "You're avoiding my question."

  "And you said you weren't going to ask me any," she reminded him.

  He smiled, though it was a struggle. He wanted her to open up, to tell him she wasn't normally a person who hid things, who lied. That she had a really, really good reason for doing so now. Fool that he was, he'd probably believe her. "I said I wouldn't push you about where you'd come from and what you'd done. And I won't. This was just a harmless question, part of our casual conversations. You know, from one person to another."

  "And therefore," she concluded, lifting a brow, "a different matter entirely, right?"

  "That's right." Yeah, he really liked the way she got all huffy and pompous. It suited her. And stirred his juices. "So, are you going to tell me?"

  "No." She glanced over at the next sharp flash of lightning while he tensed. The thunder rumbled. The rain still fell, dripping off the patio, creating an intimate aura. She turned her head back to his and once again, their faces were only inches apart. Slyly, he slipped an arm around her waist.

  "Kind of clichéd, isn't it, Cameron? Using a storm as a scene of seduction?"

  "Only if it works," he said, laughing, loosening up again. "Is it?"

  "Not a chance."

  "Ouch," he said good-naturedly, experienced enough not to back away. Yet. He was pleased that her breathing didn't seem so even, because his had all but stopped. Her skin glowed softly in the soft light from the kitchen window. The
cold had added a touch of color to her pale cheeks. Nellie's sweater, a little too big for Haley's thin shoulders, kept slipping down, giving him tantalizing glimpses of more creamy skin that he ached to touch. The burst of arousal didn't surprise him so much as experiencing it here, now, with her. She was someone he wanted to help. That was it.

  But already, she'd become far more.

  Tread carefully, he told himself. This one had thorns. Well, so did he. "I know it's not all men because I've seen you smile at Zach and Jason, so why me?"

  "Why you what?"

  Their bodies didn't touch except where his arm curled around her waist, but the electrical current running between them made it feel as if they were. He could almost feel her soft curves resting against him. "Why are you so wary of me?"

  "I'm not," she replied, dropping her gaze. But she raised her hands and pushed him back a foot or so.

  He went willingly. "I don't bite. I'd like to, but I won't."

  Her lips twitched and that sparkle he liked to see so much in her eyes came back. "I'd bite back."

  Laughing, he dared to step toward her again. "Want to play?"

  She shook her head, her eyes still smiling.

  "Don't suppose you'll invite me to walk you back to the guesthouse?"

  "With a man who's already threatened to bite?"

  He sighed. "Guess we'll have to do it here."

  Alarm flashed across her face. "Do what?"

  Slowly, very slowly, he drew her against him, keeping his gaze locked on hers. "Dance in the rain."

  "There's no music," she said, sounding breathless. Her hands were fisted tight against his chest, her entire body rigid.

  "Of course there is, darlin'." He slid his hands around her waist, realizing just how tiny she was. "Listen to it," he whispered, then fell silent, willing her to relax, to hear the incredible beat of the storm that crashed all around them.

  He twirled her around the porch to the rain and thunder, until she relaxed slightly, then even more. When he dipped her, she clutched at him, startled, then smiled in genuine pleasure. He did it again—to see that smile, to feel her hold him, appreciating the little laugh she gave when he bent her low over his arm.

  More rain, more thunder, and still they danced. Haley settled against him, holding on to his shoulders and moving easily. The fluid way she swayed against him had him pulling her closer, nuzzling his face in her hair. "Fun?" he murmured.

  "Well … maybe, yes, a little."

  He whirled and twirled them slowly about the wooden patio in tune with the falling rain, enjoying how perfect she felt in his arms, the heat of her skin beneath the sweater.

  Contrasts, he thought. The woman was full of them. Fire and ice. Sweet and wary. Her arms slid up his shoulders, glided around his neck. He rubbed his cheek against hers, reveling in the abandonment with which she finally let go.

  He wondered if she'd do the same when making love.

  The thought brought him up short. He didn't deny a definite sexual pull, but since Lorraine had nearly destroyed him, he'd preferred the slow, lazy route of getting a woman to bed. He liked the chase, and the control. But right now, he didn't feel so leisurely, or in control, and he didn't think this was a good thing. Haley had done funny things to his head, as if he'd had too much wine. He wanted to run with her through the rain, toss her onto the cottage bed and bury himself in deep.

  Yet she was lying, hiding. He badly wanted to believe that she was just another unfortunate victim in a cruel world, but he couldn't be sure. Was there a violent ex? Or something far more sinister, such as she'd committed a crime?

  No, he wouldn't picture that. Couldn't.

  Sucker, claimed the cynical little voice inside his head.

  "I hear the music," she whispered.

  "Me, too, darlin'." Her thighs bumped against his. He could smell the storm in her hair, feel the silkiness of her skin and he was going crazy. "You feel good, Haley. Real good." Finding his lips near her ear, he sank his teeth into the soft lobe, smiling when she shivered. He knew exactly what was happening to her because it was happening to him, too. He dipped her again, but she didn't laugh this time. And he saw that her eyes were closed, her mouth open a little as if she needed to force air into her lungs. Good Lord, but she did something to his insides. It startled him, for she hadn't been honest, and ever since Lorraine, honesty had been a major criterion for him.

  He couldn't seem to help himself.

  He brought Haley upright, cruising his lips along her jawbone, making his way toward that delicious-looking mouth. He was hard just thinking about the things he was going to do to those lips, but before he got there, she slapped a hand against his chest, drew a ragged breath and leaned back.

  "Wait."

  He blinked, and Haley watched warily as those brown, glazed eyes focused in on her. "Wait?"

  She shook her head, unable to believe how she'd lost herself in that dance. "Don't kiss me."

  He stared at her for a minute. Her heat slammed against her chest as his hands made one last sweep down her spine before he released her and took a step back.

  "Don't kiss you," he repeated.

  She managed a quick smile. "You sound like a parrot."

  "Sorry." He winced, ran a hand through his hair. "That was some dance, Haley. We'll have to do this again sometime."

  No chance of that, she silently promised herself. The man was simply too smooth. Far too smooth. She considered herself as unsensuous as they came, but even she had nearly melted into a little pool of longing at his feet when he'd run his hands over her back. "I don't think so."

  "Now that's a challenge," he said, leaning back against the railing. "But you look beat, so it will have to wait for another time." The rain had stopped. He took her hand, tucked Max in his other, and walked them to her little house. At her front door, he set down the puppy and smiled. "You're okay when you let go, Haley. And a great dance partner."

  "Flattery won't get you a kiss." She had no intention of encouraging him.

  "Ah." He sighed. "And you say such nice things."

  Laughter babbled, but she didn't dare vent it. He'd just take it as an invitation.

  "It's good to have you here." His eyes were unusually serious. "Are you going to stay?"

  She went from amused to instantly wary. "What makes you think I'm not?"

  "Do you really want to get into that?" he asked softly.

  She had an image of death and mayhem. "No," she managed, though the weak woman in her wanted to throw herself down and weep out her troubles. "No," she repeated, more firmly. "But … I'm not sure how long I'll stay." Maybe only as long as tomorrow, she thought with a burst of sadness, if the USGS thought they could help her.

  Cameron looked as if he wanted to say more, but he didn't. His sharp eyes shuttered again, but still she saw a flash of temper, reminding her this man could be much more than a handsome cowboy. His expression was carefully blank now, and very distant, which for some reason, made her want to cry. "I've … never danced in the rain before," she admitted in a conciliatory voice.

  He looked at her with those mesmerizing eyes for a long moment. "No? Well, then, I'm glad it was me the first time." He bent and she stiffened, but all he did was kiss her cheek lightly. "You haven't had much time for frivolous things, have you?"

  She shook her head, resisting the urge to touch where he'd just kissed.

  "Maybe you'll make time now."

  Being with him tonight had been exciting in a way she hadn't expected, but as fun and as frivolous as it had been, she couldn't repeat it. "I don't think so."

  "Ah, another challenge. But I figure you've had a rough few days so we'll save it." He ran a finger over her jaw. "Sleep good, Haley. Dream of me."

  His touch had her stomach all aflutter. "I'd rather not."

  He laughed. His thumb skimmed her lower lip. "But you will."

  Then he sauntered away, and only when he'd disappeared into the night, did she allow her weak knees a break, sinking to the step with a
long, shaky breath. Max crawled into her lap, and she nuzzled him close.

  "I won't dream of him," she whispered to the puppy.

  But damn him, she did.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  « ^ »

  Haley tossed and turned a good part of the night, then awoke in a bad mood. For hours, she'd been locked in the conflicting and disturbing memories of South America, then of the sweet comforting feel of a man's warm, hard body against hers. Cameron's body.

  She showered and yanked on Nellie's clothes, wishing she could buy her own things. She had money. Lots of it, actually. Lloyd had been a generous man and she'd rarely spent a dime. But the simple truth was, she was afraid to be found. It was far safer to remain a pauper for now.

  Breakfast was fairly easy. All she had to do was repeat yesterday's magical performance. God help her when they tired of eggs, because she had absolutely no idea how to cook anything else.

  But even knowing what she was doing, she went about the omelet and potatoes slowly and meticulously, whispering each step to herself to ensure success. Turning away from the stove, a pan of eggs in one hand, a spatula in the other, she stopped short, startled.

  At the table sat Jason, Zach and Cameron, each waiting with a smiling, expectant face. Max sat on the floor, his little tail going a mile a minute. She had to laugh in embarrassed amazement. "I didn't even hear you guys come in."

  "That's because you concentrate so hard," Jason said, watching as she put down the pan to fill plates up. She dropped bread into the toaster. "Jeez, I've never seen anyone cook so intently before."

  She must have looked startled because Zach hurried to say, "Not that we care how you do it, Haley. Just that it tastes as good as yesterday."

  Jason nodded, looking hopeful. Haley turned to glance at Cameron, who sat perfectly still with his hands in his lap. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for his comment, but he just grinned.