by Brenda Novak
“What?” he prompted.
“He went to the egg ranch and Griffin told him all about the mysterious hiker that I claimed wasn’t you.”
“How does he know it was me?” Once again, his gaze flicked over the parts of her body revealed by the sheet, and Gabrielle remembered the first time she’d seen him. How striking she’d found him, how intimidating. He’d frightened her. Now, one glance from him still made her heart race, but for entirely different reasons.
“He doesn’t know for sure, of course,” she said, pulling the sheet up a few inches. “But the coincidence is definitely bothering him.”
He scowled. “He’s just looking for a scapegoat.”
“I’m sure he is. But he makes me nervous all the same.”
It was Tucker who was making her nervous now. Nervous and aroused….
He joined her at the window, his close proximity heightening her awareness of him and the fact that nothing besides a loosely draped sheet concealed her body from his view. He was wearing a T-shirt that stretched taut over his pectoral muscles and revealed the muscular contours of his arms, faded blue jeans that accentuated his long legs and a pair of sports sandals. It was the first time she’d seen him in regular clothes, she realized, barring those ill-fitting odds and ends he’d mustered from the egg ranch. And all she could think about was taking them off….
“How’s your hand?” she asked.
He lifted his cast and wriggled his fingers. “Better.”
“How did you get it set?”
“Showed up at a med center and told them I broke it in a karate match.”
“They could tell it wasn’t a fresh break, couldn’t they?”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I said I’d been living with it for several days, hoping it wasn’t actually broken.”
“And they didn’t recognize you from the news? What did they say?”
“Nothing. I gave them a false name, paid cash and they fixed it.”
“I’m glad you finally got it taken care of.”
He turned to look at her. The closed blinds made it difficult to ascertain his expression. “Why’d you lie for me out at that egg ranch?” he asked.
Gabrielle felt a flutter in her stomach. She’d lied because she loved him. She also believed he was innocent. She hoped that belief in his innocence was why she’d done what she’d done, but there was no way to be sure. “Can’t you guess?” she asked.
“If I had to guess, I’d say you know I didn’t kill my wife.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
“That’s it? That’s the only reason?”
“Maybe not the only reason,” she said, twisting her fingers in the hem of the sheet.
“Then what?” He stepped even closer, until the front of his chest nearly brushed her own. “I tied you up, Gabrielle. I left you. You had every right to tell them who I was.”
“I—I didn’t want to.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t see you go back to prison.”
She wondered if he’d press her with another “why?” but he didn’t. He lifted his good hand and, for a moment, Gabrielle thought he was going to touch her. She wanted him to so badly, she nearly closed her eyes and swayed toward him.
But then he took a deep breath and shoved his hand into his pocket instead. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
He whirled to go but didn’t get as far as the door before Gabrielle called him back. Now that he was actually leaving, panic that she’d never see him again suddenly blotted out everything else.
“Tucker—”
He turned.
“You need some rest,” she said. “At least stay the night. Hansen can’t come into my home without a search warrant, and he has to have a reason in order to get one. We’ll be okay until morning. Then we can figure out something else, okay?”
“No, this was a mistake.” He opened her door.
She spoke quickly, before he could pass into the hall. “I’m sure Landon could use a good night’s sleep. Stay for his sake, if not your own.” She could see him waver as soon as she mentioned his son. “Being on the run can’t be easy for him. Let the poor kid come in and sleep, okay?”
No response.
“Where is he?”
“I had to leave him in the car until…”
His voice fell off, but Gabrielle understood what that “until” meant—until he could see if it was safe, of course. Thank goodness David hadn’t been able to make it back this weekend, or he would’ve been sleeping in the other room.
David would think she’d lost her mind for what she was about to do. Maybe she had. But if she couldn’t have Randall Tucker for a lifetime she wasn’t going to waste this one night.
“Bring him in,” she said, “I’ll make you both something to eat.”
LANDON’S SOLID WEIGHT felt good in Tucker’s arms. His boy had grown a lot taller in two years, although he didn’t seem to have gained much weight. He had spindly arms and legs that promised a lot more length as the years passed, a few missing teeth and eyes like saucers—as blue as Tucker’s own—beneath a shock of brown hair that never wanted to stay down.
And growing a little older certainly hadn’t made him any less inquisitive. Tucker couldn’t help smiling as he remembered all the questions his son had bombarded him with over the past two days. “Where are we going, Daddy?…What are we going to do now?…Can we go to McDonald’s?…What would happen if I could play basketball like Chris Webber?…What would happen if we put water in the gas tank instead of gas?…Are there animals on Mars?…Am I ever going back to the Boyers’?” That was the only question that had given Tucker significant pause. He’d asked Landon if he wanted to go back, while trying not to give away how much the answer meant to him.
Fortunately his son hadn’t hesitated. “Nah, I want to stay with you,” he’d said, his voice full of conviction.
Adjusting for his cast, Tucker bent his head to breathe in the subtle scent of childhood that still clung to Landon, the smell he’d missed most while in prison, and carried his sleeping son in through the back door of Gabrielle’s trailer. He shouldn’t have come here. He’d known it the moment he’d seen Gabrielle wearing nothing but that sheet. He was in danger of complicating his life even more, but with his brother out of town, he didn’t have a lot of options. Gabrielle was like a homing beacon to him, promising safe harbor. And after so many days on the run, he was too tired to resist.
He’d never experienced such exhaustion. Just lifting his young son and putting one foot in front of the other required a concerted effort. Probably because he hadn’t given himself time to recover from living on so little food and water in the desert. He’d spent most of the last ten days walking, hitching rides, taking buses and secretly meeting with his former secretary, a friend of the family, a college buddy—anyone he could trust to help him. He hadn’t eaten regular meals or slept more than two hours at a time. Once he reclaimed his son, he’d managed to borrow enough money from Robert, the man who used to be his business partner to buy a cheap compact car from a cheesy, two-bit lot. He and Landon had been living out of that car for the past two days, but whenever he found some out-of-the-way place to pull off the road and rest, he couldn’t close his eyes for more than a few minutes for fear someone would come upon them and turn him in.
The clank of pans told Tucker that Gabrielle was in the kitchen. He hesitated in the hall, amazed that such a simple sound could ease the anxiety curling through his blood. It was so domestic, so normal….
So out of reach. He’d been robbed of the simplest, purest things. The unfairness of it made him clench his jaw as he carried Landon toward the kitchen.
As soon as they entered, his son buried his face in Tucker’s chest to avoid the light. Gabrielle, hearing his step, looked up.
“Oh, he’s asleep?”
Tucker nodded.
“Do you think we should wake him? Have him eat?”
“It�
��s probably more important that he sleep. I bought him a burger earlier.”
“Okay. Let’s put him to bed in the room next to mine.”
Gabrielle led the way and turned down the bed. Tucker deposited Landon on the sheets, removed his blue jean shorts and sandals so he could sleep more comfortably and covered him.
“We home, Dad?” Landon muttered sleepily.
Tucker felt a twinge of embarrassment. He’d always prided himself on his ability to take care of the people he loved, hated the fact that he couldn’t provide a safe, stable environment for his son.
He promised himself he’d fix that. He’d clear his name and then, finally, the nightmare would be over. If only he could find out what had happened to Andrea….
“No, not home, exactly,” he said. “We’re at a friend’s house.”
“Oh.” It was easy to tell that Landon was too tired to worry about details, or he would’ve demanded to know which friend, who Gabrielle was, how long they were staying and what they were doing here. Instead he mumbled, “See you in the morning, Dad.”
“Okay, buddy. Sleep tight.”
Landon’s eyelids started to close. “Dad?” he said, momentarily rousing himself.
“Yeah?”
“Think we can play some ball tomorrow?”
Tucker smiled. “Maybe not tomorrow, but soon,” he said.
His son nodded and let his eyes drift all the way shut.
“Soon,” Tucker repeated, watching him snuggle deeper into the covers. He smoothed Landon’s hair off his forehead and, for a moment, the bitterness that so often plagued him disappeared. He could hardly believe he had his son with him and knew, when he finally gave in to the weariness pressing upon him and slept, he’d probably wake fearing it wasn’t true. During all those months in prison he would’ve given anything for the chance to help Landon with his homework, coach his baseball team, or make sure he ate all his peas at dinner—any of the simple fatherly things he missed so terribly. And here he was.
Maybe God hadn’t forgotten him after all.
“I can see why you risked what you did,” Gabrielle said from the doorway.
Struggling against the conflicting emotions inside him, Tucker glanced up. “Have you ever loved someone so much it hurts?” he asked.
A curious expression crossed her face. “Right now I love two people that much,” she said, then hurried down the hall.
Tucker stared after her. David and Allie?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
TUCKER COULDN’T TAKE his eyes off Gabrielle’s breasts. He hadn’t come to her house with any lascivious intent. He’d been searching only for sanctuary. But then he’d seen her with that sheet wrapped around her and nothing but bare skin beneath, and his body had immediately reminded him that it had been two long years since he’d appeased his sexual appetites.
She was dressed now in a yellow tank top and a pair of cutoffs, but she still wasn’t wearing a bra and the change hardly made the situation any easier on him. Every time she moved, her full breasts swayed gently, reminding him of that brief moment in the desert when he’d cupped them in his palms and tasted her sweetness. The memory caused every muscle in his body to tense. Like that sunrise he’d witnessed on the first morning of his freedom, he found Gabrielle’s body breathtaking, almost sacred, certainly nothing to be taken for granted. He wanted to caress her, to excite her in small degrees and work up from there until…
She turned to ask him how he liked his eggs, and he immediately yanked his attention to the glass of water she’d given him.
“Over easy is fine,” he muttered.
She went back to cooking, and he let his eyes return to her, admiring the tone of her legs, the perfect curve of her buttocks….
“Orange or apple juice?” she asked, catching him looking at her again.
He dragged his gaze up to meet her eyes. “Pardon?”
“What would you like to drink?”
“Coffee’s fine,” he said, even though he’d basically lived on coffee and caffeine-laden soft drinks for the past few days and felt as though they’d burn a hole through his stomach.
“When’s the last time you had something solid to eat?”
Tucker couldn’t remember. He’d used the pay phone when he’d stopped to buy Landon a Happy Meal and had accidentally left his own sack of food in the booth. When he realized what he’d done, he’d driven too far to go back and hadn’t wanted to risk stopping again. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” She seemed genuinely distraught. “You’ve got to eat, or you’ll never get through this.”
Why did she care whether he survived? She might believe he was innocent of Andrea’s murder, but he was just some poor sucker she’d met in prison. She’d already done far more for him than simple compassion would dictate. She should have demanded he get out of her house; instead she was standing at the stove making him breakfast as though he wasn’t an escaped convict who’d just broken into her trailer!
“Why do you keep helping me?” he asked suddenly.
“Aren’t you hungry?” She turned again, surprise apparent on her face.
“That’s not what I meant. You shouldn’t have let me in.”
“I didn’t let you in.”
“You shouldn’t have let me stay.”
“Why not?”
Because she got to him, that was why. Her beauty tied his stomach in knots, and her goodness and idealism attracted his beleaguered soul, like a beacon giving light to the darkness. He knew how jaded and bitter he’d become. The comparison between them showed him more than he wanted to see, made him resent her at the same time he was tempted to love her. Maybe part of her appeal lay in the hope that he could reclaim the innocence of his former self by possessing her in some way. “I could be dangerous,” he said.
She folded her arms across her flat stomach. “You could’ve murdered me while we were in the desert. Then you wouldn’t have had to dispose of my body.”
“I’m not talking about murder.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“Maybe I want more than you’re willing to give me.”
She put his food on a plate and brought it to the table, coming so close as she set it in front of him that her left breast nearly grazed his cheek.
Tucker leaned away quickly to avoid contact, but she only grinned and reached across him to get the saltshaker. “Your eggs might need a little more seasoning,” she said, and this time as she moved, her breast did touch him. It brushed his arm, sending a jolt of pure testosterone through his veins.
He held himself perfectly still until he could regain control. “Don’t provoke me, Gabrielle,” he warned, his voice as menacing as possible. “You might get more than you’re asking for.”
“Would that be so bad?” she said.
“I’m not the man I once was,” he tried to explain.
“Then maybe we should find out who you are now.” Her hands settled on his shoulders and began to knead his tired muscles, and her touch went to his head like half a bottle of tequila. He said nothing as her fingers eased the tension in his back; he wasn’t sure he could speak. But then she shifted, and his peripheral vision told him he had only to turn his head to take her nipple into his mouth….
With a groan, he shoved her away. “Don’t.”
She stared at him for several seconds without moving. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t want me?”
“No,” he snapped. “I’m not interested.”
“That’s funny. You sure look interested.” She arched an eyebrow as she eyed his lap.
“Don’t push it, Gabrielle.”
“Why?”
Because he wanted her too badly. Because he feared the messy emotions she inspired. Absolute control was the only thing powerful enough to see him through the nightmare that had become his life. If he lowered his defenses now, he might simply come apart in her arms. “Believe me, you don’t know what you’
re asking for.”
“I think I do.” Stepping forward, she placed a sweet kiss on his temple. He closed his eyes against the lonely ache the tenderness of that simple action engendered.
“I know you’ve been to hell and back, Tucker,” she whispered. “I’m guessing any real intimacy at this point scares you to death. But I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to make love with you, to feel you naked against me, moving inside me. I want to touch you and be touched by you and forget that anything else even exists.”
Her words turned his heart into a jackhammer, the pounding so loud it seemed to echo in his ears. But he refused to allow himself to respond as he wanted to. “What? Are you one of those women who get off on having sex with the worst of the worst?” he asked, striving to drive a wedge between them.
His words succeeded in surprising her, and she stepped back. A small voice in Tucker’s head told him he was crazy to throw away what she’d just offered him. The other part understood that if he made love to her, it would be almost impossible to get up and walk away in the morning, knowing she’d probably go on to marry someone else. He had nothing to offer her, wasn’t sure he ever would, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. She deserved more. Shutting her out was the kindest thing he could do.
“I think you know better,” she said.
“I don’t know anything. I’m only after a meal and a good night’s sleep,” he said. “That’s all.”
The look on her face tested the limits of his willpower. He could barely keep from reaching out and pulling her into his arms. He longed to assure her that she hadn’t misread the signs his body was sending her, that he did want her. So badly…But such an admittance would only weaken his defenses, and he was determined not to destroy her life.
“Fine,” she said quietly. She got him some blankets from the closet at the end of the hall, walked into the living room and made him a bed on the couch.
