Another Man's Treasure

by Renee Roszel

  Her lips began to tremble, but she began, “Cotter, I don’t know who you think I am or what this means to us.”

  “Hell!” He raged just above a whisper as he swooped down over the edge of the bed. She moved aside, and he grabbed at her pajamas, lying rumpled on the floor. With self-disgust in his face, he tossed them to her. “Damn it! If I could take this night back, I would. You—you’re nice, too nice.” He stared into her eyes. “To be honest, you’re nothing I’ve ever looked for in a woman before.” He ran a hand through his tousled silver hair and Raine was surprised to see that his hand was shaking badly.

  Shaking? The unreachable Cotter Hunt? Somehow, the realization seemed absurd, considering the almost absolute calm he projected most of the time. A strange sort of shock began to numb her mind and body. Cotter wasn’t able to let himself feel for her—it uncovered something, some other feeling of his, that was just too powerful for him.

  The illusions about him were destroyed quickly, at least. If she could be nothing to him, then she would try to feel nothing toward him. He blurred before her again, but this time she knew that some of the haze was due to the tears that shimmered in her eyes. Listlessly she gathered her pajamas and sat forward, pulling the shirt about her shoulders. She reached for her panties, and put them on quickly. Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, she shot an apprehensive glance toward him. He had leaned toward her, taking hold of the lapel of her shirt. He tried to help her back into the sleeve, but she brushed his hand away. “Don’t…” She let the feel of his touch fade and then pulled her arm through the sleeve. Words cost her too much energy. She was buttoning the shirt, her fingers unfeeling but steady, when she felt his weight as he settled on the bed beside her. His low murmur seemed very near, yet very far away, as he said, “Raine, I’m sorry.”

  She held up a halting hand as she slid to the other side of the bed and stood up. With her pajama bottoms clutched tightly in a fist, she looked directly at him, working hard at keeping her voice from betraying her deep hurt as the numbness gave way to pain. “Yes. I know.” She walked away and rested momentarily against the door frame before she turned abruptly. “I think…” she began, but paused to quell a sob that threatened to overcome her. “There shouldn’t be any problem with my keeping my distance from you now, Cotter.” She lowered her eyes, breaking any contact that remained between them.

  She couldn’t recall a thing after that—not her return to her room, not sliding into her own narrow bed. All that she could remember was the vision of his black, brooding eyes when he spoke to her.

  She compared her pain to the hurt she had known before. A desolate feeling surfaced, and she turned to bury her face in her pillow. There was no comparison.

  COTTER LAY ON HIS BACK, staring at the ceiling, wondering at his lack of self-control. He’d never done anything so thoughtless in his life. Raine wasn’t the kind of woman who understood how it was with a man like him. She played for keeps. She would equate sex with love. What did she know about men and women and casual sex? To her, there was no such thing. Raine was the type of woman who wanted and needed commitment. He grimaced. She deserved a virtuous man. She was a lovely, honest woman, and she needed the same qualities in a man. But she didn’t need Cotter. He’d worked hard to build up what he had; to keep his family together. And when he wanted a woman, he had no trouble finding one. But the relationships had no strings and no responsibilities. It was a simple arrangement, one he couldn’t fathom changing.

  He closed his eyes and searched his soul. Why had he sent Anona home after the party? She’d certainly made it clear that she wanted to stay. And why had he felt so uncharacteristically attracted to this innocent in men’s pajamas?

  He placed a heavy hand across his eyes, swearing at himself again. He didn’t need that kind of complication. Let her find someone more appropriate—an academic or a social worker. She’d be fulfilled with the right man. He rubbed a hand over tightly closed eyes as a strange feeling of unease closed over him at the thought of Raine in the arms of some gentle, loving man—someone other than himself.

  Frowning, he opened his eyes, letting his gaze drift toward the door she’d passed through some time ago. He saw her image clearly, standing there, in the oversized shirt, her slim legs white and shapely in the dappled moonlight. She really was a lovely woman. Strange that she seemed to take such pains to hide that fact. Suddenly, he found himself growing angry. She was probably even striking, but she wore no makeup to enhance her features—and those huge glasses! She seemed not to try…

  His upper lip broke out in beads of sweat. Didn’t try? The way she reacted to him in that bed, she didn’t have to try. She was so genuine, so unsophisticated, so beautifully uninhibited—so easy to love.

  He sat up, feeling uncomfortably aroused by the memory. He shook his head to clear the thought of it. He didn’t need any woman romanticizing him, and didn’t want it. He didn’t want her. He’d told her so, and that was the end of it. He had all the responsibility he could handle, with Carl and Nordie and the business.

  Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he picked up his alarm clock to peer at the time. It was nearly five. Good. Close enough to time to get up. A cold shower and the light of a new day was what he needed.

  As he set the clock back down, something nudged his fingers. He winced, knowing instinctively what it was. Her glasses. With a scowl he picked them up, fingering the frames. Why was it that she could never completely leave a room?

  Chapter Eight

  Raine leaned back heavily against the sorting table wanting nothing less than to have to begin another day’s work. Listlessly, without any thought, she tugged on her gloves, hoping the students wouldn’t notice the redness in her eyes and the slight bluish cast to the skin just above her cheekbones. The early morning hours had been difficult, to say the least. She looked around, trying to concentrate on physical things in the cavernous stables—trying to blot everything from the night just past out of her thoughts. The memory of Cotter’s lovemaking was just as painful to recall as his cruel rejection.

  The students were in the process of taking their smocks from hooks and donning them. She cleared her throat to steady her voice, and to her consternation, she realized that they had all become silent and were turned toward her, waiting. Blanching, she cast about in her mind for something to say—after all, she was supposed to be their teacher, to direct them in their study. Clamping her hands around the edge of the sorting table, she improvised. “I wonder how many of you have noticed specific features of the buying differences between the high- and low-income groups, so far?”

  Bill’s face grew thoughtful, and he raised a gloved hand. “I may be mistaken, but it seems like lower-income families buy many more vitamins, for one thing.”

  Raine nodded and tried to smile. “That’s one of the interesting facts that appears to correlate with studies done at the University of Arizona. Anything else?”

  There was a pause before Nordie chimed in, “Educational toys!”

  Raine was glad for the chance to think about something besides Cotter. Nodding toward Nordie, she coaxed, “What about them?”

  “They buy more.” Nordie picked up a torn container. “This held a ‘Spell and Talk.’ Yesterday I found a couple of pieces from a Scrabble game and a set of instructions out of a children’s weather forecasting kit in the low-income trash. I haven’t found that much educational stuff in a week in the high-income bags.”

  “Good observation. I’ve noticed a trend in that direction myself. Evidence of more educational toy purchases in the lower socioeconomic group seems surpising, but this is just the type of thing we’re making this study for. To discover—”

  A squeak of unoiled hinges intruded on her explanation, and all eyes turned to see Cotter and another man enter the stables. Raine felt her body go stiff, but her heart was far from still as her eyes clashed with Cotter’s for a brief, tense instant. She adjusted her gaze to look at the other man and recognized him immediately
. Slightly shorter and stockier than Cotter, dressed in a light-colored sport coat, a white sport shirt opened at the neck and dark brown slacks, he was the smiling opposite of the stern-faced Cotter, dressed in a trim-fitting grey three-piece suit. The curly-haired Police Detective Noonan nodded toward Raine in friendly recognition.

  Feeling Cotter’s eyes on her made it difficult to create the illusion of pleasantness, but she strained to produce a professional smile, which she directed toward the police officer. Extending a hand toward his outstretched one, she offered, “Why, Detective Noonan. It’s nice to see you again. What brings you here?”

  He squeezed her hand, his green eyes crinkling in a friendly grin. “Heard about your near run-in with an intruder at headquarters, so I figured I’d better get out here and take charge of your safety in person.”

  Her smile faded at the reminder of last night. Swallowing hard, she could not find an appropriate answer. But Nordie spared her the necessity. “Intruder!” She crossed in front of the detective and faced Raine directly. “What intruder? Why didn’t I know about it?”

  Raine opened her mouth to reply, but it was Cotter who answered. “Because it wasn’t that important. The alarm system frightened him away before he got in Raine’s window.”

  Nordie’s melodramatic eyes widened. “Professor Webber’s window?” She spun to face Raine. “You must have been terrified!”

  Raine looked down at her sandals, pressing her glasses firmly on her nose with the back of her wrist. She cleared her throat. “Well, at first, but Cotter…the system…took care of it.”

  Nordie giggled. “I can just see him dashing into your room ready to do battle—lights going on everywhere.” Raine looked back up at the girl just as she turned to face her brother. “Say, Cot. Do you still sleep in the raw?” She shook her head and laughed. “I’ll never forget that time when I set that wastebasket on fire under the smoke detector in the hall—you remember when ex-Senator Ranton, his wife and daughter and some other people were visiting. I decided it would be fun to have a combination fire-drill-come-as-you-are party. You rushed out into the hall naked.”

  “That’s enough, Nordie,” Cotter broke in, his irritation evident. He crossed his arms before his chest and said nothing further as she turned a playful smirk toward Raine, and put a consoling hand on her arm.

  “I hope the experience didn’t damage you for life—and I don’t mean the break-in.”

  “Nordie, what could I do to persuade you to keep your mouth shut?” Cotter growled, his dark eyes smoking a warning.

  She shrugged an unconcerned shoulder. “Oh, you couldn’t do that.”

  Raine stood there, red-faced, wishing she were invisible. Detective Noonan cleared his throat amid the sound of stifled laughter from the students. “This is what I’ve decided to do, and Mr. Hunt has okayed the idea, although reluctantly.” He looked at Cotter, smiling almost apologetically. “I’m going to stay here for the next two weeks until your study is over. I’m afraid, even though Mr. Hunt is doubtful about it, that the break-in last night could have been directly related to our investigation. So, I’d rather stay here, just to make sure no important evidence gets taken.”

  Raine’s eyes widened. That thought had never occurred to her. “But—but, I haven’t found a thing that appears to be important. I’ve never even taken the box into the house.” She swept a hand down to show the officer the grey metal box, lying open. A handful of paper scraps were scattered about the bottom. “And we don’t keep this place locked at night.”

  Nordie smirked. “Anybody who’d want to steal this stuff would have to be pretty hard up.”

  “Or desperate,” Cotter cautioned.

  Raine cast a scant glance toward Cotter and was distressed to see his eyes on her. It was obvious that he was against the whole idea of their helping the police. But it was done, and right now she had no interest in pleasing him anyway. Stubborn pride strengthening her voice, she directed her students. “Well, people, break-in or no, it’s time we got started. Detective Noonan, I gather, will stay here with us. So, let’s get him a coat and gloves.”

  “Oh, formal?” the officer quipped lightly, drawing Raine’s gaze. He was smiling warmly at her, his mossy-colored eyes twinkling with humor. He winked, and she felt color rush up her cheeks. He mentioned to her quietly, “You know what, Raine? I think I’m going to enjoy this assignment.”

  Cotter snorted derisively and Raine noticed that he hadn’t smiled once since he’d entered with Ike Noonan.

  “’BYE, COTTER.” Nordie was gaily waving a limp glove clutched in her fist. “Collect a lot of trash today. I’m going shopping Saturday—at Diamonds-Are-Us.”

  Raine heard the big door squeak shut and knew that he was gone. Her tense back muscles eased a fraction, and she turned to help Ike on with his smock. When he realized what she was doing, he graced her with another wide grin. It was infectious. She smiled back at him, noting that he was quite an attractive man, with his sun-bleached hair, tanned skin and broad shoulders. He appeared to be a man who took good care of himself. As a policeman, he would probably have to. She held out a pair of blue rubber gloves. But instead of taking them from her as she’d expected, he took her hand in his, murmuring, “Thanks. How about taking a walk with me after dinner tonight? I bet the beach is lovely in the evening.”

  She raised surprised eyes to meet his, her mouth opening in a silent “Oh.” She stammered shyly, “Well, I—I’d like to, Mr. Noonan.”

  He nodded, squeezing her hand slightly before he pulled the gloves from them. “Ike.”

  She turned away to open the first bag of trash, her brows coming together in a slight frown. Why did life have to be like this? Why did she have to want Cotter, think only of Cotter, cry desperately over his rejection of her, when a nice man like Ike Noonan showed such obvious interest? Ignoring the twisting knot in her stomach, she pulled a tuna can from the sack and began to explain to the detective their involved process of tabulation. He proved to be a quick, extremely attentive student. It was a shame, she thought to herself, that his interest only made her uncomfortable.

  COTTER TOYED WITH THE STEM of his wineglass as Hanna cleared away the dinner dishes.

  “Sir? Would you like a piece of my rhubarb-and-lemon pie?”

  He shook his head without looking up. “No, thank you.” He filled his glass from the wine bottle that was sitting in a silver ice bucket at his elbow. “I won’t need anything else tonight. You ought to be going anyway.”

  She lifted the tray full of dishes and offered a subdued, “Yes, sir. Good night,” and exited through the pantry door.

  He took a sip of the wine, eyeing its clear color without interest. For some reason he was in a foul mood. If he were to be truthful with himself, he’d been uncharacteristically out of sorts since Raine had stalked out of his bedroom, four nights earlier. And that laughing hyena of a police detective hadn’t made matters any better. He’d been prancing and bowing around her like a circus horse, laughing at everything she said as though she alone had invented the art of witty conversation.

  He set the glass down, grinding his teeth at the memory of Ike’s attentions to Raine all during dinner. It had been a repeat of every night before. He’d flung his arm casually across the back of Raine’s chair through the whole meal, whispering clever remarks in her ear. They must have been clever, because Raine had smiled and blushed the whole time.

  Cotter had bit his tongue more than once. As a matter of fact, she’d managed to fluster him every time her cheeks had gone pink. He wondered just what the guy had been suggesting. He took another swig of the wine. And they’d taken enough walks along the beach! One would have thought they’d seen the whole coast of Maine by this time. But, no. They were going again tonight. He took another large swallow, frowning.

  “Well…you still here?”

  Cotter lifted his head, turning cool eyes toward the man whose incessantly pleasant personality had begun to irritate him. “What?” He felt his jaw go tight with hi
s effort not to remark that he was free to do so if he wanted to sit at his table until hell froze over.

  Ike waved off the brisk question. “I won’t bother you, I was just—”

  “Looking for Raine,” Cotter finished between clenched teeth.

  Ike grinned ingratiatingly. “Yes. How did you know?”

  Cotter carefully released his glass so as not to break the steam. “It just came to me.”

  “Well, she said she’d meet me here,” the detective explained. “She went to the kitchen to get marshmallows. We’re going to roast them down by the wild cranberry patch between some dunes—oh, I’d say half a mile.” He cocked his head in the direction he was describing.

  Cotter sat back curling his hands around the edge of the table. “I know where they are.”

  “Cot!”

  Nordie came into view at the door, wheeling Carl before her. Her face was animated with happiness, and there was a strange, new sparkle of life in Carl’s eyes. He sat up, alert. “What is it?” he asked, an edge of irritation still in his voice as he tried to prepare for any crazy possibility.