WHEN I SEE YOUR FACE

by Laurie Paige

  If he loved her.

  She wished she'd stop thinking that. It made her hurt inside. "This isn't very smart," she began on a light note.

  He rested his cheek against her temple. "No lectures tonight, please. Let's enjoy the evening. As much as we can," he added wryly.

  "Why do you dislike your stepmother?"

  Shannon felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten for a second before he shrugged. "I find her hard to take."

  "She's very beautiful."

  "No, she isn't," he corrected. "You are."

  Warmth spread all through her as she looked up. Their eyes met and held. Shannon, though limited in vision and experience, knew passion when she saw it. His hunger engulfed her until she was consumed by an equal need.

  "I never knew passion could be like this," she said, bewildered by the fire and the sweet, wild temptation of his touch. For all her studies in human nature, nothing had prepared her for it – the yearning, the pounding heart, the delight and anticipation and misery. "I don't understand why it happens or how. Why me? Why you? Why now?"

  "Because it's the right time, the right place and the right people." He smiled at her. "We're right together."

  He made it sound so simple, but the intensity of his gaze said it wasn't. They were both caught in the force of their mutual hunger, driven relentlessly like tumbleweeds before the wind.

  Someone bumped her. Shannon gazed into cold eyes that were expertly made up to enhance the seductive allure in them. She felt the woman's dislike as a palpable thing – a chill all the way to the soul. The stepmother did not wish her well. She couldn't figure out why.

  "The band is quite good, isn't it?" the woman said, her calculating gaze going to Rory.

  "Yes," he answered briefly.

  His face was devoid of emotion. Shannon felt the struggle between the other two – the woman's advance, his retreat. With expert skill, he glided them away from the older couple.

  "She wants you to like her," Shannon told him on a sudden insight, feeling sorry for the stepmother.

  "She tried to seduce me when I was a teenager," he said. "I tolerate her for my father's sake, but I don't have to like her."

  "Maybe you misread her intentions. Maybe she's sorry and wants to start over."

  "Maybe."

  He was silent and tense the rest of the dance. Shannon missed the intensity, the excitement of knowing he wanted her that had been evident in his eyes. He had closed her out. She found she didn't like it any more than the other woman did.

  With an effort, she made polite conversation the rest of the evening and ate the artfully prepared meal. Rory, too, chatted amiably, but she sensed the strain in him as the hours wore on.

  "I heard on the news you've been having a series of robberies in the county," his father said. "Someone broke into a store in town a couple of weeks after the … uh, the gas-station incident."

  Rory nodded. "It's worrisome. Other than some rustling, we've never had much serious crime in these parts." He chuckled unexpectedly. "Remember that time you surprised a burglar trying to get in the house?"

  Mr. Daniels laughed, too, sounding very much like his son. However, Shannon noticed the older man's eyes were dark in color. Father and son didn't favor each other.

  She wondered if Rory took after his mother's side of the family and if that contributed to his stepmother's animosity toward him. Perhaps she feared the son reminded the father of his first wife?

  Sometimes, Shannon knew from her studies, a person used jealousy as a tool to alienate others from each other. That person became the eye of a storm of her own making, all attention revolving around her. Was his stepmother, in her own insecurity, driving a wedge between father and son?

  As Rory drew his father out about chasing the burglar all over the neighborhood dressed only in skivvies, with a butcher knife in hand, she realized something else. Rory cared for his father and, in his kindness toward the older man, tried to be tolerant of his father's wife. He just refused to play her mind games.

  It came to Shannon that she could help. She suspected Rory had thought of the engagement as a way to deflect his stepmom's demand for attention. Since she'd agreed to the deception, she could at least play her part.

  After they had all declined dessert, she laid her hand on Rory's shoulder and playfully tickled the back of his neck. "Darling, do you think we could go? I'm rather tired after the excitement of the morning."

  He studied her without answering, as if he'd forgotten the question while he contemplated her intimate gesture.

  "What excitement?" Catherine demanded.

  "I've regained more of my sight. I can see color now. With my new glasses, I can even focus on things as long as they're right in front of my nose. I probably overdid it, but I worked on my notes all day."

  "Shannon is going into family therapy as a psychologist," Rory explained to the other couple. "She only has to write the dissertation to finish her Ph.D."

  Catherine frowned. "You said she was a police officer."

  "She was … is. She was shot in the line of duty, stopping the robbery at the gas station. Didn't I tell you she was a heroine?"

  His frank admiration added to the glow within. Shannon caressed his lean cheek. "And he was my hero. He saved my life by slowing the bleeding until the medics arrived."

  "You were both lucky," Mr. Daniels declared. "You probably saved his life by showing up before he did – otherwise, he might have walked into the store and been shot. At least you could defend yourself," he said to Shannon.

  "If you're ready?" Rory broke in, taking her hand and effectively changing the subject. He called for their coats while he took care of the bill.

  Shannon was silent on the way home. So was her companion, who placed an arm around her shoulders when she shivered in the frigid air of the car. She was aware of him in every nerve, as if she had radar that tracked his every move. Once he leaned close and lightly kissed her on the temple. She stole a glance at him. His eyes returned her stare with the intensity she'd seen earlier.

  His gaze flicked to the front seat, then back to her. He smiled, bent his head and kissed her. Then he smiled again and pressed her head to his shoulder, a smoldering promise in his eyes.

  She wondered what she'd unleashed by acting the smitten fiancée. She was scared of the emotions that struggled just under the surface of her consciousness. Part of her wanted to abandon caution and accept the passion. For tonight, for this moment, that's what the rest of her wanted, too.

  * * *

  Shannon and her erstwhile fiancé led the way into Rory's house. He stopped abruptly when they entered the kitchen.

  "What the hell?" he muttered.

  She glanced around the large, comfortable room. Even she could see that it had been ransacked. Drawers were on the floor, their contents strewn about.

  "What in the world?" his father said behind her.

  "Someone has vandalized the place," she said. "Please stay where you are and don't touch anything. Rory, call Jess. He'll need to investigate."

  Rory put in the call. In less than ten minutes, Kate's husband arrived, followed a couple of minutes later by a young detective who brought a fingerprint kit and other crime-detection tools. They found some partial prints, but nothing they could use. The lock on the front door was broken. That's how entry had been made.

  "Okay," Jess said an hour later, "we're through. You might want to check your belongings and see if anything is missing. I'll need to put it in my report."

  Mrs. Daniels reported five hundred dollars was gone from her suitcase, plus a gold chain with a diamond pendant. Mr. Daniels had left his watch on the dresser. It, too, was missing. Shannon felt vaguely as if she were somehow at fault for not protecting their property. The culprit could have been the robber who'd shot her.

  She covered a yawn, then held her wrist close to her face, trying to make out the tiny digital display.

  "It's midnight," Rory told her. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

&nb
sp; "I'll come with you," Jess, who'd been preparing to leave, volunteered. "We'll stick around a minute," he told the other detective.

  The hair stood up on Shannon's neck when she entered her kitchen and flicked on the light. It, too, was a mess.

  "I'll get the kit," the young detective said, coming in behind the other three.

  Shannon shook her head. "I can't believe this. We've never had any trouble at all on the ranch. It's too far out for criminals to find the place."

  Except for the robber who shot her. He knew where she lived. A tremor ran through her, as if she felt a malevolent force surrounding the place and extending to her neighbor's house as well.

  Surprisingly, only the kitchen was vandalized. When Jess and his helper finished – nothing was missing as far as she could tell – the chief lawman turned to her. "You want to come stay with us for a while? I don't like the idea of your being alone here."

  She thought of Kate, Jeremy and Mandy. She wasn't going to put her relatives in danger. Shaking her head, she told him she would be fine. "I really need to work on my notes. Besides, no crook hits the same place twice."

  "She won't be alone," Rory said grimly. "She can stay with me."

  There was a beat of silence, then Shannon smiled in his direction. "That's kind of you, but you already have enough company—"

  "You're right. I'll stay over here."

  "Good," Jess said.

  Shannon decided not to argue the point in front of the detectives. Jess, seemingly satisfied with this arrangement, bade them good-night.

  Alone, she spoke to Rory. "You don't have to stay. I'll be fine."

  He ignored her statement. "I'll go tell the folks and nail the front door closed." He gave a snort of laughter. "It would have been simpler to leave the door open."

  This last was a reference to her place. She'd forgotten to lock up. The thief had waltzed right in.

  "Yeah, it saves wear and tear on your doors," she quipped. "Really, you don't have to stay—"

  "Yes, I do," he said quietly.

  She didn't argue. She'd seen enough of him to know that it was his nature to protect and defend. That he was also stubborn went without saying.

  Picking up the mess, she tried to ignore the hard thud of her heart and the increasing glow deep within. She was finishing the last drawer when he returned.

  "We got my place straightened up," he reported. "All is back to normal."

  "Except for the money and the missing items."

  "A small price to pay. Here, let me put that up." He replaced the drawer and looked around. "How about a cup of hot chocolate? I'm too wired to sleep yet."

  So was she. After putting the two mugs of milk in the microwave to heat, she retrieved a set of sheets from the linen closet and went to the guest bedroom. He followed her.

  "Will we need another bed?" he asked huskily, his voice sending waves of longing spiraling through her.

  She faced him. "I don't know."

  "The ever-candid lady cop," he said softly. He crossed the floor, but stopped without touching her. "I won't lie or pretend I don't want you, but neither will I push you into anything you don't want."

  She thought of the morning and the regrets that would surely follow. "You're dangerous to my peace of mind," she murmured, pressing a hand to her temple, the tender scar tissue reminding her that the scars of the heart could be more painful than those on the body.

  "As you are to mine," he admitted.

  She managed a smile. "Mutual madness."

  "Yes."

  He waited. She felt his patience, his tacit acceptance of her decision, whatever it was. It made her ache down deep where her dreams had once lived.

  "It would be easier if you seduced me," she told him, only half joking.

  "I want you, but I believe in playing fair. If it's wrong for you, then it's wrong for both of us."

  "There are complications," she reminded him.

  He didn't deny it.

  She inhaled sharply, knowing she was stalling, not quite able to refuse the harsh longing between them, not quite ready to surrender to it.

  "Let's go have that chocolate," he suggested. When he walked out and down the hall, she followed more slowly. He placed the mugs on the table and joined her there when she took her seat.

  "You think the vandal was the man who shot you," he said as if reading her mind.

  She nodded. "Yes. There's no evidence, but the feeling is so strong. It's as if I can sense his presence."

  "I always follow my hunches." He took her hand and linked their fingers together. "Like now."

  When his mouth met hers in a soft kiss, she felt the power of it down to her toes as need and passion, mixed in equal parts, collided within.

  Passion she could handle. It was the need that frightened her. She drew back.

  He watched her for a minute. "What scares you about us, about this?" he asked.

  "It would be easy to fall in love … to think we were falling in love…"

  "How do you know it won't happen, that it hasn't already happened?" he questioned softly.

  "I won't let it," she said and heard the desperation. "We couldn't possibly be so foolish."

  "I'm not like your father, Shannon. I can't account for what other people do, but for myself, I believe in fidelity. I would be faithful to my vows."

  "It isn't that." She tried to laugh. "This conversation is getting awfully serious."

  He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on the back of it, then into the palm. "I have something for you." He put a ring on her finger.

  She stared at the small diamond set in a band of gold with an ivy pattern embossed on it.

  "My mother's," he continued. "Luckily the thief didn't find it. I thought we should make our engagement official."

  "I'm sure that's not necessary."

  "Believe me, it is."

  Recalling the stepmother's demanding attitude, Shannon reluctantly agreed. Drawing her hand from his, she said, "I'll wear it, but only until they leave."

  "Good." He picked up the cup and took a sip. "It's late. I suppose we should go to bed."

  He laughed suddenly, surprising her. She tried to make out the expression in his eyes, but saw only humor.

  "I'll take the guest room. Odd, but now that we're officially engaged, I feel compelled to be honorable about the whole thing."

  "Then your intentions weren't honorable the other night?" she asked, relieved at the lighter tone.

  "Let's say they're under a state of constant review."

  Which told her exactly nothing.

  He pushed her cup toward her hand. "Drink up. Morning is going to come early, I suspect."

  The clock struck one as she climbed into bed. It felt vast and lonely. She fought the need to go to him, knowing he would be gentle and welcoming. She touched the ring on her left hand. Her eyes burned with sudden tears.

  She'd done a foolish thing, she realized, and had no one to blame but herself. She'd fallen in love with Rory.

  And she'd walked into it with both eyes wide open.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  « ^

  Kate glanced pointedly at Shannon's left hand. "Looks real to me," she murmured.

  "Me, too," Megan agreed with a grin, which she hid behind her teacup.

  Shannon lifted her hand and watched the small diamond flash in the sunlight through the window. "The ring is. The engagement isn't," she insisted.

  Megan set the cup on its saucer. "His mother's ring. That's very romantic."

  Shannon rolled her eyes while Kate laughed in delight. The three cousins had met for lunch at the café later in the week to catch up on each other's happenings. The big news had been the break-ins and the ransacking of the two houses.

  "It was a month ago today that the other robbery took place," Kate reminded them. "The night Shannon was shot."

  "The twenty-third of December." Shannon smiled ruefully. "I remember it well. You two spent most of Christmas in the hospita
l with me."

  Her throat closed up, and she was overcome by love for her family. "You were there for me," she said huskily, "when I was frightened and couldn't see at all."

  Rory, too, had visited and brought her flowers, unlike the attorney – odd, she could hardly recall ever dating Brad – who had disappeared at the first sign of trouble. So much for a man she'd thought was dependable.

  "Kate's the one. She's always been there for both of us when we've needed her," Megan said, sadness in her green eyes.

  Shannon experienced another wave of fierce love for her cousins. They had shared so much, both sadness and joy.

  The hostess seated someone behind them. Shannon's chair was bumped rather forcefully. She glanced over her shoulder and froze, then forced herself to breathe deeply.

  "Sorry," the man said, his face hardly more than a foot away from hers as he took his seat and turned to her.

  "That's okay." She scooted in closer to the table, her mind in a whirl of disjointed images. The gas station. The robbery. The perpetrator … the man who was seated behind her at this moment!

  She could identify that angular face, the scar through the left eyebrow, the thin lips with the snarly smile. She had to tell Rory … no, Jess. And the sheriff.

  "Well," she said casually, "that was delicious. Megan, are you ready to go? You were going to help me with grocery shopping."

  Megan gave her a surprised glance. "Sure." After they paid, then said their farewells to Kate on the street, Shannon clutched Megan's arm. "Act like you're leading me. I want to go to Rory's office. We can call Jess from there."

  "What is it?"

  "Remember the man sitting behind me in the café? He was the one who robbed the store."

  "The one who shot you?"

  "Yes."

  "We need to tell Jess—"

  "He'll see us if we go across the street to the sheriff's office, and he'll have time to get away. Rory's office is just down from the grocery."

  They hurried off, Shannon holding Megan's arm. Rory met them at the door of his building. "Hi. You ladies had lunch? I just got back from the Herriot place—"

  "We've got to call Jess. The perp is in the café," Shannon interrupted.