by Cassie Miles
“What do you do?”
She glided her fingers down the front of his shirt. “I like to get so deeply involved in a project that the rest of the world fades away.”
“Like redecorating your house,” he said, “and ending up with more bathrooms than bedrooms on one small floor.”
“I like getting lost in an opera. Or reading a great book from cover to cover.”
Her words were innocent, but her hands were signaling a different story. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulled his face closer to hers and kissed him.
This marked the second time that she’d initiated contact. He wanted to be the aggressor but not too aggressive or too demanding. There should be an easier protocol for physical contact, clear indications of when a kiss was enough.
The answer to that question: Never.
A kiss was a just start.
He supported her back as he glided his hands over her breasts, teasing the dusky nipple between his fingertips and cupping the fullness. The smoothness of her flesh enticed him; she was too silky to be real. She made small, feral noises in her throat as he prolonged their kiss.
“Yikes.” She jumped and looked down.
Fat, orange Taffy meowed and rubbed against Jayne’s legs again. A small black-and-tan goat poked his nose through the door.
“Jealous?” Jayne asked.
“Are you asking me or the cat?”
“Show me the second bedroom.”
He led the way down a short corridor that went to the bathroom. He removed a small, framed photo on the wall beside the door to the rear bedroom. Revealed behind the photo was a keypad. He felt sheepish about his secret keypad lock. An escape from sensory overload was an adult explanation for this extreme solitude. The locked bedroom seemed more like a teenager’s secret hideout.
He punched the code into the pad, waited for the click, twisted the handle and opened the door for her.
If his life had been a movie, this was the time for dramatic chords to swell. Jayne was entering his world. There was much about her that he liked. She had natural charm and sensuality. When it came to intelligence, she ranked among the smartest people he’d ever known. He liked her decisiveness, her wit, her strength and her kindness toward her patients. In many ways, she seemed to be the perfect woman for him.
They were a good fit when it came to sex, too. If their kisses and brief caresses were a preview of coming attractions, he couldn’t wait for the feature presentation.
She sauntered through the room, passing the long table at the front where an array of computers and electronics were scattered.
Technically, this was a bedroom because there was a single bed pushed up against the wall. But the rest of the large space was devoted to shelves in the closet that held equipment and supplies, more tables and a two-person gaming area where he tested his products.
She studied the photos on a bulletin board. “From the Mars rover,” she said. “And a desert. And this looks like the bottom of the ocean.”
“I was creating a habitat.” He wished she’d turn around and look at him. It was hard to know what she was thinking when he was staring at her shoulder blades. “I design computer games.”
She focused on a piece of equipment attached to the ceiling. “What’s this?”
He pulled it down. “A periscope.”
“You have a periscope in a mountain cabin?”
“So I can watch the flying lizards.” He adjusted the scope so she could see through it. “Take a peek.”
“If I actually see flying lizards with this,” she warned, “I’m going to freak out.”
When she put her eyes to the scope, he guided her fingers to the dials. “You can zoom in or out or make the image sharper with these.”
She played with the focus and turned the scope in different directions. He stood behind her with his hands on her tiny waist. “What do you see?”
“Amazing perspective,” she murmured. “The faraway cars on a distant road seem to be the same size as the leaves on a bush.”
“I like watching the weather. I can almost see the wind.”
When she stepped back from the scope, she noticed a rectangular box on a table in the corner. “Oh, my God, Dylan, you have a 3-D printer.”
Her excitement popped and sizzled like fireworks as she scampered across the floor to the machine and caressed it. She might have thought the periscope and drawings were somewhat interesting, but the 3-D printer lit a fire inside her. In a flash, she turned into a woman who could communicate with him on a creative level. He believed they could build perfect fantasies together.
Chapter Eleven
“I want brains,” Jayne said, her voice fluttering with excitement. “I want to make models of brains. I’ve been dying to get my hands on a 3-D printer.”
“We could do that,” he said.
When she spun around and faced Dylan, she knew that she was grinning, because the bruise on her jaw hurt. She wasn’t totally euphoric, but a stream of endorphins had lifted her mood. Building brains sounded like fun. And when was the last time she’d done something just for the fun of it?
“They could be transparent.” She’d seen many varieties of brain models and modeling. Some showed the nerve endings. Others indicated blood flow. Others were artistic replicas of the swirling folds of the cerebrum and the chambered cerebellum. “I’ve got a lot of ideas.”
“That’s all you need.”
“I can’t wait.” Playfully she grasped each of his arms and gave him a shake. “What have you done to me, Dylan?”
“Me?”
“It must be you. You’re the one responsible for the way I’m feeling. I want to have fun.”
“Everybody likes fun.”
“Not me.” Her grin became a chuckle. “And I never talk about my feelings.”
Could there have been something else that caused her limbic system to blast into orbit? She considered the events of the past few days: an attack at her house, a strange meeting with her dad, a successful operation and an attempted abduction. The good outcome from Dr. Cameron’s procedure was cause for celebration, of course, but she was goofy and giggly. “I’m a neurosurgeon, not the sort of person who gets excited about making models on a printing machine.”
And, yet, she was giddy.
Taffy sashayed into the room, leaped onto a table by the door, struck a pose and glared at them. Maybe these animals had lightened her mood. Seeing a cat certainly wasn’t uncommon, but the combination of cat, camel and ferrets might have affected her. She wondered if it was okay for the camel to be untended for this long. “Should we check on Loretta?”
“She’s good. Even if she wanders off, the property is fenced.” He made a square box with his fingers. “She’s contained, like in here.”
Contained? She looked at all four walls, noticing a great many photos and shelves and a sheet of water sliding down a flat slab of granite. “There are no windows in this room.”
“It’s supposed to keep the animals out and the dust down,” he said. “Plus the ambient light is good for staring at screens for hours.”
“And you’ve got the periscope,” she teased, “which seems appropriate for a secret hideout.”
He winced. “You picked up on that vibe, huh?”
“I did.”
“You’re not buying my mature ‘sensory overload’ bit?”
“Oh, I believe that, too. You’re complex and interesting, but you’re also a guy who likes his toys. Men enjoy playing with gadgetry and vehicles.”
“What about women?” he asked. “What about you?”
“I like grown-up games.” She walked her fingers up his chest and over his chin to his mouth. “I like games that involve lips.”
“We’re in agreement,” he said. “Should we t
ake this discussion to the other bedroom? It’s more comfortable.”
“Not yet. I want lunch.”
A second cat—this one was white with black splotches or vice versa—joined Taffy on the table and whapped a computer screen with an all-black tail.
“Hey, you.” Dylan picked up the cat. “Jayne, would you grab Taffy?”
“Why?”
“When the cats get in here, they mess up my equipment. That’s why I usually keep this room locked.”
She noticed two other cat faces in the doorway. “How many cats do you have?”
“Many.”
She snuggled Taffy into her arms, and the cat climbed so his head was nestled under her chin. She could hear him purring against her collarbone as she strolled toward the door. Growing up, she’d never had pets. When her dad lived at the ranch in Texas, there’d been livestock but they were mostly for eating.
In the hallway outside his secret room, Dylan locked the door. Over his shoulder, he said, “I notified your father to let him know you’re in a safe place. And I told Eloise to cancel your appointments for the rest of the week.”
“Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, that’s too long.” She didn’t like to take time off. Her schedule was tight. “I should go back by Friday.”
“It’s not up to me,” he said. “As long as Koslov is on the loose, you need to stay here.”
Her fleecy pink clouds of euphoria were showing their dark underbellies. She didn’t want problems. She needed to have her happy mood back. “I can compromise. I’ll work via phone conference and email.”
“We’ll figure out a way for you to stay in touch, but the timing will be limited. If you’re connected to a phone signal, Koslov can trace the call and pinpoint your location.”
“Is he tech savvy enough to do that?” she asked.
“He’s not, but Tank Sherman is.” Dylan unceremoniously dropped the black-and-white cat, which dashed across the floor and vaulted onto the windowsill. “Koslov used the kid before to breach your security system and might use him again to track your cell phone.”
“How do we get around that?”
“Third party,” Dylan said. “You call my brother at the TST Security offices, where the phones are encrypted and untraceable, and then Sean relays the message.”
How could she possibly work that way? Passing messages from one person to the next sounded like an annoying children’s game. There had to be an alternative.
She turned on her heel and went into her bedroom to change out of her pajamas. Jayne was pleased to find her clothing neatly tucked in dresser drawers and hanging in the closet.
If an emergency arose and she needed to get back to work, they’d have to find a way to get her back to the hospital, and ditto for her phone calls. Jayne was in charge here. She was footing the bill for a bodyguard, and his job was to make sure she didn’t get attacked on his watch. He didn’t get to make the rules about where she stayed and who she talked to.
Though it was September in the mountains, she’d been plenty warm enough in her pajamas. She threw on a pair of jeans, red-and-blue sneakers and a comfortably faded red hoodie over a white zip-up tank top. In the bathroom, she yanked up her hair and checked out the bruise on her face.
When she’d told Dylan she wasn’t someone who went chasing after fun and good times, she hadn’t been lying. At one time, Jayne had thought she was the only person in her age bracket who didn’t play online games. It wasn’t a conscious choice—there just wasn’t time when she was busy with her studies. Pathetic? Some people might think so.
Some people, like her father or one of the idiot women he married, would hover over her and demand that she partake in some sort of “fun” event. Because Dad had insisted, Jayne had gone to her senior prom, never mind that she was a thirteen-year-old senior in high school.
Outside on the porch, she felt the warmth of a Colorado blue-sky day beaming down on her. She stretched and rotated her shoulders, noticing a few aches and twinges from getting banged around in yesterday’s escape. The flat of her hand rested on her belly. The last time she’d eaten was the tuna sandwich from Mrs. Cameron. “I’m starving.”
“Betty always has something on the burner.”
The breeze smelled fresh and clean even though she saw a plume of smoke from the sprawling, two-story cedar lodge beyond the forest and down an asphalt road. Much closer, at the foot of the cabin’s porch stairs, Loretta sat without moving. Her long lashes were at half-mast, and she looked bored. A brown goat was curled up beside her with his head resting against her side.
“Who’s Loretta’s little friend?” she asked.
“That’s Romeo. He has four fat nannies to frolic around with, and he’s in love with the camel.” He approached Loretta. “Do you want to ride or should I?”
Though she wasn’t sure this counted as fun, she’d never taken a ride on a camel before. “Is there a trick to it?”
“If you know how to ride a horse, you can do this. Loretta was trained to obey the same commands.”
“I’ll ride.”
He shooed away the goat and took her hand as she approached the woolly Bactrian camel. “It’s best to mount while she’s sitting. Just climb onto the saddle between the humps and hang on. After she stands up, I’ll adjust the stirrups.”
Jayne mounted without any major problem. But when Loretta stood in a seesaw motion with back legs first, then the front, balance was an issue. She nearly slipped off into Dylan’s arms. Scrambling and grabbing the humps and trying to hold on with her knees, she got herself upright in the saddle again.
After he shortened the stirrups, she took the reins in hand. “Okay, Loretta, let’s move.”
The camel shook her head from one side to the other, opened her mouth and made a flat, ugly noise.
Jayne leaned forward to pat Loretta’s long neck. “It’s okay, girl. Take your time. You can go whenever you want.”
“Don’t tell her that,” he said. “This is a stubborn lady. She likes to stand around.”
“She doesn’t understand what we’re saying,” Jayne said, chastising herself. What’s happening to me? Am I talking to a camel, really? “Just go.”
He took the harness and started walking Loretta along the road toward the house. Her gait was wobbly but the experience was not significantly more uncomfortable than riding on horseback. Jayne could get accustomed to travel by camel.
“Why is Loretta at RSQ?” she asked. “Is she ill?”
“The guy who owned her had a plan to raise camels, but he only could afford three, and it got too expensive to care for them.”
“Why raise camels?”
“For the wool,” he said, “like llamas. Also, camels give milk. Betty made cheese from Loretta’s milk, and it wasn’t horrible. I guess there are nomadic tribes who live on camel milk.”
By any stretch of her imagination, this was a bizarre conversation. She looked down at his wide shoulders as he walked in front of her, leading Loretta. When she noticed the gun on his hip, she remembered that this visit to RSQ wasn’t all about fun and games. This was a safe house. She was as much a victim as these animals, maybe even more so because she wasn’t being neglected. Koslov was hunting Jayne.
“What will happen to Loretta?”
“A zoo in Montana took the other two camels. We’ll find a spot for her.”
Romeo the goat trotted along beside them. When the female goats got close, he actually lowered his head and took a run at them. “Romeo’s mean,” she said. “Where did the goats come from?”
“A petting zoo that went belly-up.”
As they neared the house, an older woman with a long, silver braid rushed out the door. She gestured for them to hurry.
Dylan broke into a jog and so did Loretta. The two of them moved in a neat, synchronized motion. By co
ntrast, Jayne jostled wildly between the humps. This saddle was a high seat. If she fell from here, it was going to hurt.
“Let me off,” she said.
She swung her leg over the hump and slid down the saddle. Dylan caught her. Gently, he set her on the dirt beside the camel.
The silver-haired woman from the house jogged up close to them, dusted off her palms on her jeans and stuck out her hand. “I’m Betty Burton. Dylan tells me that you’re a doctor.”
“Yes,” Jayne gasped.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever worked with animals.”
Jayne introduced herself and returned the firm grip. “I haven’t got vet experience, but maybe I can help. What’s the problem?”
“Over there in the barn, we’ve got a giraffe going into labor.”
Another first in Jayne’s life. She hoped it would be the last time she played midwife to a giraffe.
Chapter Twelve
Dylan hustled Jayne toward the barn. Her neurosurgery skills wouldn’t be much use with a pregnant giraffe, but she knew the basics of doctoring and blood didn’t scare her.
When RSQ had agreed to take Bibi, short for Big Bertha, the interior of the barn had to be reconfigured. They’d kept the horse stalls along one wall. On the opposite wall, they’d shuffled some of the smaller pens and moved the goats outside to their own enclosure. In the center, at the apex of the barn, a large area was marked off with tall chain-link fences. That was where Bibi was kept. Her food was set out on the second story of the barn where the hay was stored in bales. All she needed to do was stretch her long neck and chomp. Outdoors would have been better, but she was just too big and too fast if she decided to make a run for it.
Betty’s husband, Tom, greeted them at the double-wide barn doors with his cell phone in hand. He gladly passed it to Dylan. “It’s the vet.”
“Hey, Doc, I’ve got a woman here who’s an MD. Her name is Jayne. Why don’t you talk to her?”
He passed the cell phone to Jayne and asked Tom, “How do you know she’s ready?”
“Same way as with a human. Her water broke.” The old cowboy jabbed his thumb toward a messy corner of her indoor pen. “I wasn’t sure what to do next. So I called the vet in Buena Vista.”
