They entered the kitchen, which at least had solid walls. He pointed to the refrigerator. “Feel free to help yourself to anything you find in there.” The cabinets lacked doors, but the plates and glasses were visible in the openings, so she could figure that out herself. “The pantry’s pretty much finished,” he said, indicating the doorless space. Thank goodness, he’d shopped for groceries that week. Dry and canned goods lined the shelves.
They entered the living room, and she halted, her gaze going to the high ceiling. The room was empty, but except for the crown molding he was refinishing, this room was nearly done.
“I like the color,” she said, her gaze on the pale robin’s egg blue he’d painted the walls and ceiling.
“Be nicer if some furniture was actually in here,” he said wryly. “The upstairs is more comfortable.”
“I can’t believe this staircase,” she said.
He liked that she’d noticed the curved balustrade.
Her hand followed the smooth, newly stained wood as she climbed.
The house wasn’t large, but the details hidden in the old Victorian more than made up for its limited space. He’d made the best he could of the antiquated floor plan, opening spaces on the ground floor to give the dining and living area the illusion of spaciousness.
On the upstairs landing, he flipped on the hallway light and realized one issue could pose a problem. “I took down all the doors to refinish them. Too many layers of paint on a really nice teak.” He turned on the light just inside the gaping doorway of the one bedroom he thought she might like. He’d stripped out old, threadbare carpeting to expose oak flooring that had only needed sanding and restaining to return it to its former glory. The painted metal bed was a junk shop find. “The mattress is new. Clean. I’ll find sheets so you can remake it.”
Her head jerked his way. “You’ve been sleeping here? But where will you go?”
“I have a pullout sofa in the space I’m making over into an office downstairs. I’ll be fine.”
She eyed his long frame. “Maybe I should take the pullout.”
“No. This room has a private bathroom. The fixtures are all new. But no door as well,” he said, staring into the dark space. The tub would be visible from the doorway. “I’ll rig a curtain, but at least you’ll have a little more privacy.”
Her cheeks turned red. “Well, thank you.” She took a deep breath and set her bag on the mattress. “You said something about ground rules…”
“Yeah.” Cain took off his cowboy hat and held it between his hands. “Not all the windows have curtains. So you can’t be walking around with all the lights on during the night, or you could be spotted. Best to stay far from the windows. This house isn’t on the main road, but we shouldn’t take any chances. There’s a phone in the kitchen, but you don’t answer it until you hear my voice on the message machine. Don’t answer the door. Not to anyone. I have keys. I’ll let myself in.”
“Got it,” she said with a mock salute. “I’m hiding out. I can’t be seen or heard.”
His eyebrows lowered. He needed her to take this seriously. “Look, I’ll have Sherry find you more clothing. Maybe you could give me a list of your sizes, down to your underwear.” His gaze went to her breasts, which he knew were free beneath the t-shirt. “No use being shy. I’ll get you what you need.”
Her blush spread across her cheeks. But her mouth was curving. “And if I need tampons?”
Running the hat in a circle, he winced. “Good lord, you had to go there.”
Her snicker matched the light of mischief in her eyes. “You’re not the one blushing here.”
He shook his head, a grin tugging at his mouth. “You’ve gotta be beat. You want to eat, or go straight to bed?”
“Bed,” she said, and her shoulders drooped.
“Don’t get scared by the sounds this old house makes. The stairs creak, the wind whistles through some of the boards on the open walls, but I’m here for the duration.” He jutted his chin. “You won’t be alone. I’ll protect you, Carina.”
Carina wondered if it was possible to melt into a puddle. She thought she might be doing that right now. She’d never met a guy who said things like that. Who put himself before her. “Will your girlfriend be okay with this? With me staying here?”
His eyebrows drew together. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Shed my wife six months back. Haven’t been looking for one, either.”
He shed his wife? Not quite sure what he meant, she guessed his wife hadn’t disappeared the same way Joey’s exes did. And if a happy warmth spread throughout her at the news he wasn’t taken, well she’d put that down to the fact he’d saved her. Didn’t women always fall for their rescuers? She gave herself a mental shake. She was not falling for him, because she wouldn’t be here long. “Thanks for everything.”
“I’ll get those sheets.”
“Don’t,” she said. “I’m too tired to care. I’ll change them in the morning.” Besides, she wanted to crawl between his sheets and find out how he smelled. Gross as that might have sounded if she’d said it aloud, she was curious.
“All right.” He backed toward the doorway.
She raised a hand to warn him, but he bumped into the frame and quickly turned and left.
She grinned, thinking that maybe she was affecting him as much as he affected her. Nice to know she wasn’t alone in that, either.
Cain called himself every kind of fool as he escaped down the stairway. Why the thought of Carina sleeping on his sheets pleased him, he didn’t really know. But he was getting hard just thinking about her sleeping between the sheets he’d used, in her t-shirt, or possibly nude.
Fuck, he’d thought it. Now, the picture he drew in his mind wouldn’t fade away.
So, she was pretty. He’d had pretty. She was feminine and curvy in all the right places—again, he’d gone there, done that. She wasn’t from around here, and that fact should be the one he held on to, because in a few days, maybe even tomorrow, she’d be gone. With that thought foremost in his mind, he decided to take a turn around the yard. Give her time to use the bathroom and settle for the night. And for his dick to relax.
Outside, the full moon provided him ample light to circle the house. He gazed into the windows, just to see whether light from the hallway or the kitchen could be seen from the ground. His gaze strayed to the upper floor and his bedroom. Hers now. She’d turned off the bedroom light, but the bathroom light was on. No hint of feminine silhouette could be seen.
His cell phone chirped in his pocket. He drew it out and scraped the screen. “Tank, any sign of the boyfriend?”
“None. All’s quiet. The fire’s out, but the chief’s keeping watch to make sure there aren’t any flare-ups.”
“That’s good.”
“You get her bedded down for the night?”
Cain grunted at his word choice. Parts that needed to relax were stirring again. “Well, I didn’t stay to tuck her in.”
His friend chuckled. “She’s not Susan, but it looks like she’s got bigger issues. Just as well not to get involved.”
Cain didn’t answer. He was not discussing with Tank any attraction he felt for the woman sleeping in his bed. “Who’s patrolling tonight?”
“Perez is pulling a double. Him and Conway will keep an eye out. Sheriff said there’s nothing specific to pin the arson on the boyfriend. And without you seeing him inside the Viper, we don’t really have anything we can hold him on, should we pick him up. Would have helped if you’d gotten a look at his plates.”
“I was too busy trying to keep us both alive.”
“Just sayin’. Don’t guess you’re gonna get much sleep. Want me to drop by tomorrow to keep watch while you get some shut-eye?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He rang off, and then made another circle around the house. When he entered the mudroom, he pulled off his boots. He heard footsteps in the kitchen. Quickly, he walked to the doorway and peered around the frame.
Carina stood before the o
pen door of the refrigerator, wearing one of his t-shirts. She was pulling down the back hem to cover her bottom as she reached into the back.
Cain thought he ought to warn her he was there, but then she bent again, and he got a glimpse of the bottom of her ass and froze. Under his shirt, she was nude. Not wanting to embarrass her, he stayed in the shadows, waiting for her to move away before he made some noise to let her know he was there.
She bent again.
Blood pooled in his groin. He nearly groaned because his jeans were already feeling pretty tight. Her ass was exquisite. Not a word he’d ever say aloud, but damn, prime real estate.
Never mind her legs were long and slender and as finely turned as any Chippendale table’s legs. He could see why a bastard like Guiducci would have trouble letting her go.
She withdrew the covered pot that held the chili he’d made the night before and set it on the counter. When she lifted the lid, she inhaled and her eyes closed.
A rumble he could hear from the doorway sounded. He supposed it was time to quit spying and help her out. After kicking at his boot to make noise, he stepped into the kitchen.
Her gaze widened then shot down her tee.
“You’re covered,” he said. “Glad you found something to sleep in.” Even more glad you didn’t try to wear my boxers. “Thought you were tired.”
“I am.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or at least I was, until I lay down. Then my stomach started rumbling.”
“Let me put that on the stove for you.”
She reached for a bowl in the cupboard. “I can just nuke it.”
He gave her a mock glare. “One doesn’t nuke Texas chili.”
“That another rule?”
“Yup. One my mother taught me.”
“She teach you how to cook, too?”
“She did. Said a man needed to know how to take care of himself. I even know how to wash my own clothes.”
She laughed, as he’d intended for her to do. He picked up the pot and set it on the iron grate atop the stove. “Stove’s tricky. Runs on natural gas. If ever it doesn’t come on right away, be sure to stand back before you try again.”
She tilted her head. “I’ve used a gas stove before. I do know how to cook.”
“You do?”
“Joey liked my cooking. But when we had people over, he always hired a caterer. Said he didn’t want me smelling like food around his friends.” She shook her head. “Sorry, last thing I should be doing is thinking about him.” She took a deep breath and gave him a smile. “I’ll set the—” she glanced around. “The counter, I guess.”
“Sorry, don’t have a table yet, but I do have some bar stools.” He headed back out to the garage to pull out the chairs, all the while keeping an ear to the doorway.
When he came back inside, she held a clean cloth and a bottle of Pledge. “I’ll give them a dust.”
He smiled and let her clean them while he stirred the chili. “Hope you can stand a little heat. I put peppers in my chili.”
“Is there any other way to make it?”
He grunted his approval then pulled down another bowl from the cupboard.
Carina didn’t think she’d ever tasted anything better. Not in all the fine restaurants Joey had taken her to. Even her mama’s chili couldn’t compare.
He refilled her glass of milk. “Swallow it down. Milk puts out the fire.”
She liked that he sensed her every little distress. She took a sip. “Thanks, that’s the best chili I’ve ever had.”
“I know.”
She laughed. “Guess I shouldn’t have moaned so much.”
“A man likes to know he’s pleased a woman.” Glancing sideways, he winced.
She laughed harder. “On that note, I should probably get back to bed.”
“Yeah.” He remained on his stool as she jumped down.
“I’ll take care of the dishes.”
“No, you won’t,” he said, his voice clipped again. He pointed toward the door. “Bed.”
Carina wasn’t blind to what was happening between them. The intimacy of being forced together like this was preying on them both. She was glad they’d been so relaxed during the meal, but she wasn’t unaware of his attraction. That he didn’t want to stand only highlighted the fact the man was aroused.
Could he tell she felt the same? She didn’t dare glance down the front of her borrowed tee, but she could feel the hardened tips rub against the thin fabric. Not that she cared all that much. It felt good, being attracted to someone like him. Reaffirming the possibility of making a better choice the next time. “Goodnight, Cain,” she said softly.
“Night, Carina,” he said, his voice sounding a little rusty.
As she climbed the steps, she didn’t bother holding down the hem of the tee. He’d already seen her ass when she’d bent for the pot of chili.
Chapter Five
‡
By day four of their forced captivity, Cain was ready to chew on nails. He’d never been this hard or horny for such a long period of time. And no privacy existed inside the house for him to relieve himself of the problem. What he wouldn’t give for five minutes of alone time…
Not that Carina hadn’t been great. Their first morning together, she’d appeared in the garage, wearing another of his tees over her borrowed jeans and offering to lend him a hand. Not the phrase he’d needed to hear, because he’d immediately envisioned her giving him a hand job.
Though not experienced at any form of labor, she’d proved adept with a paintbrush. After taping off his office walls, he’d shown her how to use a brush and a roller then left to strip another section of crown molding. Anything not to watch how perfectly his shirt clung to the tight tips of her breasts.
So, why hadn’t he ever gotten around to shopping for new undergarments for her to wear? Cain couldn’t help the fact he was fascinated with her curves. In the evenings after a shower, she wasn’t the least bit shy about parading around in his shirt while they fixed their dinner. If the hem slipped upward, he didn’t look away. And by her pink cheeks, he knew she was giving him a little show. No accident there.
By now, he was sure her attraction was just as strong as his. And still, he hadn’t acted on it—too aware of his responsibility to keep her safe—even from himself. And he didn’t want to spoil things between them.
The truth was, he liked her. She was smart, and not the least bit lazy. A very quick learner and seemingly eager to be taught. And, of course, his mind dove into all the things he’d love to teach her—sexier pursuits. Fact was, he liked having her around. Liked her scent, her curves—damn, he liked everything about her. But women like Carina didn’t just appear in this little backwater town. She was meant for better things. Meant to have the best life offered. She should be spoiled, pampered. Loved…
Perhaps the thing that kept him from even approaching her was the idea of her freezing up and seeing him in the same light as her ex. And Cain couldn’t stand the thought of giving her even a moment’s fear.
He put down his scraper and laid aside the rag he’d been using to sweep away the bits of old paint he’d liberated. He sat on the steps leading into the kitchen. There’d been no sign of Joey Guiducci. The sheriff was of the opinion that he’d likely returned home, knowing she was being watched. What criminal in his right mind would continue to risk everything over a girlfriend, even if she had stolen his money?
Josh wanted to know how much longer he’d watch over her. Theirs wasn’t a large department. Cain was needed back at work.
The numbers on the money hadn’t stirred any interest from the Feds. He could return it to her, and she could be on her merry way. He should just tell her.
Cain walked through the kitchen and slowly climbed the stairs. He could hear her humming down the hallway, not any country song—he might have recognized the tune. But he liked the rhythm and her off-key enthusiasm. When he stood in the doorway, he couldn’t keep his smile from widening.
She glanced sideways. “See?
I didn’t get any on the floor.”
True, but she did have streaks and drops of paint all over her hair and shirt. His shirt.
She must have seen the direction of his glance, because she looked downward. “Dangit.”
“I never liked that shirt, anyway. Not much of a Cowboys fan.”
“Is such a sentiment even allowed in Texas?”
He leaned against the door frame, thinking about what he’d come to say. He felt his smile fade.
Hers faltered, as well. “Is anything wrong?”
He gave her a small smile, more of a twist of his lips. “We should talk.”
Her expression shuttered.
Something he hadn’t seen since that first night when he’d approached her at the fire. Dammit.
“Is it bad?” she asked, laying down her brush on the paint tray and reaching for the package of wet wipes he’d provided.
“No. Just come.” He held out his hand.
She didn’t hesitate.
Even though this was the first time they’d touched since he’d patted her down at the station. Once again, the heat of her skin caused his palm to tingle. He led her to the bedroom. The only room with a full contingent of furniture. He pulled her down on the loveseat beside him and kept her hand in his, because he didn’t want to let her go.
Her eyes were wide. Worry dug a wrinkle between her dark brows.
He reached up and rubbed it with his thumb. Then, realizing he was trying to rub away her worry, he dropped his hand. “There’s been no sign of your boyfriend. Not in days.”
She remained silent, but her face stiffened. “Are you saying I can go?”
“No charges are pending against you. None against him, either, since we can’t tie him to the fire. Sheriff won’t even charge him with reckless endangerment for the car chase, because we don’t know for stone-cold certain the driver was him.”
“But, it was.”
“I know.”
“And he’s not ever giving up.”
He tightened his jaw at the fear in her voice. “I know.”
Cain's Law (Cowboys on the Edge Book 3) Page 4
