Means To An End

by Carol McPhee

  He breathed a sigh of relief; she was calming down. “I won't bring up the accident again."

  "Thank you."

  Rand's muscles relaxed. He'd won a small victory, and he'd better smarten up to avoid a major battle. “Let's see what the TV lineup is for tonight."

  Picking up the remote, he joined her on the couch, leaving enough space between them that she'd not feel constrained. He felt pressure enough for both of them. He'd like to sit a whole lot closer and fiddle with the loose strands of her hair, maybe sniff her perfume and even touch her hand to see if her skin felt as soft and dewy as it looked.

  Rand flicked through the TV's channels. Nothing but sitcoms or sports. He tried to ignore Lori's habit of moving her hands over her thighs. To keep himself under control, he didn't want to be aware of any part of her anatomy—the room sizzled enough. “I don't suppose you play chess?"

  "Then you suppose wrong. A friend taught me to play, and he showed no mercy once I learned. I'm afraid I can be ruthless."

  Rand focused on the glistening in her eyes because it suddenly lightened the strain in her face. “Hey, you're my kind of woman. I'll get out the game."

  This was the break he needed. Nothing like the quick defeat of an opponent to make his spirits soar.

  As he brought out the board and chessmen, he looked forward to challenging her ability. By the time the evening ended, he'd have her eating out of his hand. If they simply kept company, it might be enough to convince the guys they were romantically involved. At the same time, a chess game could settle their nerves and give him a chance to learn more about her personality. He would enjoy making subtle approaches to kindle her interest in him. No pressure for either of them—no one hurt. The attachment wouldn't have to last long, only until he infiltrated the ranks of the drug dealers staying at Lochaber.

  She'd not recognized him. There hadn't been any sign that would lead him to believe she had. But he owed it to her and himself to set her straight on the integrity of the RCMP. And he would—when his mission ended.

  * * * *

  Lori maintained her composure, but her mind whirled feverishly. She had seen his eyes before, she was sure of it. She recognized that burrowing intensity he'd turned on when she threatened to leave. His gaze looked so far into her soul she could hide nothing, and she'd had that feeling once before this. But where?

  She decided to hide her recognition because Rand's lack of openness and her intuitive mind made it essential that she do so. She was practiced at burying her facial expressions so her parents wouldn't suffer any more than they already had with their loss. She would remember where she'd seen him before; it was only a matter of time. Her past experience with those dark depths had something to do with the accident. Had he been amidst the blur of onlookers at the scene? Surely he would have said. If he'd been one of the Mounties questioning her, she would have remembered. Each one of them had scrutinized her with such persistence she'd never forget the intimidation. They'd looked at her with the same studious concentration Rand's expression now displayed.

  The intense questioning before the trial had made her believe the police were trying to pin the blame on her instead of where it lay—with the other driver. In spite of her pain, she'd quickly learned to minimize her disclosures lest investigators and lawyers twist the facts around and use her information against her. Her innate wariness lingered to this day. She'd bide her time, hiding her suspicion of his involvement in criminal activity.

  She smiled politely when Rand returned with the game and helped him set up the pieces. With confidence and determination she made her plays.

  "Checkmate.” She won the first game in eight moves.

  * * * *

  Rand couldn't believe it possible. “That was luck."

  "Sore loser?"

  With the sparkle in her eyes, Rand knew she enjoyed seeing him suffer a loss. “Definitely not. We'll play again."

  While he'd been studying her face, she must have taken advantage of his lack of concentration on the game. His second attack would be different—more focused. He'd stop admiring her natural beauty and the way she moistened her soft glossy lips with the tip of her tongue each time she moved a piece. The gesture preyed on him and got to the point he anxiously waited for her to do it again.

  "Checkmate."

  "What?” He sat up straight. The steady hand that showed no fear and the glimpse into his eyes just before she set the final piece in place told him that she was an opponent who more than matched his skill. What other skills lay hidden beneath her magic? He'd have to be more guarded in how he handled this liaison.

  They started a third game.

  Susceptible to her smile because it flashed so seldom, Rand almost made a poor move. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs in time. The final outcome made him the winner, but it was a hard win. She could have settled in for the kill, but at the last minute backed off. Deliberately?

  * * * *

  Lori thanked her lucky stars she'd had a master chess tutor. Her friend, Sam, a prison guard, had taught her to play chess to fill the hours wracked with pain after various surgeries on her leg. How well he'd taught her was evident. Rand was no slouch, just too centered on her and not on his plays. She had all she could do not to squirm under the pressure of his stare and the tension built up from it had cost her the last game.

  On their fourth play, once he took hold and made the effort, she could see he was adept at planning his moves. She threw every trick she could think of, trying to trap him. Each time, he didn't fall for her ploy, but came back with a stronger attack. He won again.

  "Can I offer you some coffee and a snack?"

  "No, thanks."

  She glanced at her watch. “I must go. It's almost midnight."

  "And Cinderella has to leave the ball?"

  Like Cinderella, she knew she had to escape the fascination developing, lest it entrap her. Surely in the surroundings below this deck, nighttime offered another kind of challenge—one leading to pure delight.

  Her own life at night was anything but bewitching and the enchantment of the captain's suite could be a beguiling inducement to experience more than she planned. In the light of day, with a clear head, she doubted she'd be pleased with herself if she'd caved to Rand's charm. Anyway, it was a moot point. He wasn't interested in her that way. Nor she in him. A smile creased her lips. Had he noticed how quickly the time had flown? She had.

  * * * *

  "Hold on, Lori; I'll tell George we're leaving."

  With more reluctance than he'd expected, Rand went below deck. He didn't want the evening to end. Wrapped up in her competitiveness and in the challenge of trying to figure her out, he'd lost track of time. He hadn't been captivated by a woman's company in a mighty long time and was pleasantly surprised at how much he'd enjoyed it. So much so, he wanted to devote more time in deepening their friendship. Maybe he could work something out on the way back to the chalets.

  The men staying at the resort were smarter than they acted and ever watchful for action that might bring about their downfall. While they were “yes” men, the man they were saying yes to was as sharp as criminals come. Rand remembered going over the charges Malcolm Warner had weaseled out of, and they ranged from grand larceny to homicide. None of the indictments had ever stuck. Rand vowed to see that changed.

  "George, we're leaving the yacht now. You'd better set the alarms in case someone gets overly curious and decides to snoop."

  "Sure thing. How did the evening go with Miss Wheeler?"

  "She kept me busy handling her moves."

  George raised one eye above his book's pages. Rand flashed a wicked grin, then returned to the lounge.

  "Okay, Lori, we can go."

  He climbed into the Zodiac first and helped her into it, taking care to let his hands touch only where appropriate. She sat down quickly, as if anxious to avoid further body contact. Once they reached the dock, Rand attempted to help her, but she twisted out of his reach. The fog was so thick he could
hardly make out her face, let alone her expression. He wondered why she needed to avoid him when she didn't know he was a cop?

  As they walked toward the lodge, Lori kept a small distance between them. When the chill of the damp air forced her to hug her arms, he took it as an opening to shorten the gap. “Come here, you're cold."

  He cuddled her beneath his arm.

  "Thanks.” She didn't fight against him, but huddled into his warmth. He slowed the pace deliberately when her limp became more noticeable.

  "Does it ache?"

  "My leg? Yes. At times it nags, but I'm lucky that's all I have to complain about. They implanted a metal plate in my thighbone. It irritates the nerve endings."

  It would be easy to take advantage of her lead and enter into conversation about the aftermath, finding out exactly why she distrusted the RCMP. But the thought of pressing the issue tightened a knot in his belly; he wasn't certain he could cope with knowing just now. To his surprise, the evening had been more stimulating than he'd anticipated; introducing a negative aspect would spoil the pleasure that still worked its way through his body.

  The shrewd investigator in him warned he'd learn more by taking his time and being careful not to get personally involved. Whatever enjoyment he gained from her company would be of no further use once his project was finished, and yet ... A pinprick of light flashed in chalet six where three of the men stayed. Someone had lit a cigarette near the window. That someone watched.

  * * * *

  Rand's arm still around her shoulders, they reached the veranda of her chalet. Lori unlocked the door and hesitated. Rand backed against the wooden railing. “Thanks for a pleasant evening. Maybe I should check inside."

  If this was an attempt to invade her private life, he had another think coming. “The door was locked. No one would be in here.” His suggestion didn't surprise her. Although she expected a hint to come in for a nightcap or at the very least, a light peck on the cheek, she didn't intend to encourage it. “I had a nice time, too, Rand. Thank you ... Good night."

  "I'm serious, Lori. There are a number of strangers here and you don't know what any are up to. I'll just take a quick look and leave. It'll put my mind at ease."

  Lori opened the door wide and turned on the light. Rand entered behind her and scanned the interior, then walked to the bathroom. He checked behind the shower curtain. Just as she told him, no one was there. Next, he went to the windows and closed the flowered drapes, locking the small window near the head of her bed. The room's stuffy air called for having the window open, but she decided she'd wait until he left. If he left. She placed herself near the door, ready to run at the first indication he planned to roost on her territory.

  "Satisfied it's safe, now?” Her hand rested on the doorknob.

  "Guess so. Remember, I'm next door if you need anything. I'm a light sleeper."

  "Rand, you're making this sound like something from a thriller movie."

  "Listen. A woman travelling alone can't take too many precautions. These chalets are isolated away from the main building. You might have done better staying in one of the cottages by the office."

  "I wanted the ambience of a chalet and the sound of the rapids to put me asleep. I see no reason to change."

  "Okay. Lock the door behind me. Will you turn out the light now before I go?"

  "What on earth for?"

  "Anyone watching will think you still have company."

  "And think I'm a slut, too.” She shook her head. “Okay, I'll turn it out. My reputation is the least of my worries."

  The little laugh he tossed over his shoulder as he walked out the door was worth following his request. She peeked from behind the curtain and watched his dark form slip over the railing to the grass below it. As far as she was concerned, he carried her safety to an extreme. Why should he care?

  The cabin's silence got on Lori's nerves with Rand's departure. She opened the side window next to his chalet, hoping the clean fresh air and rumble of the fast-flowing water would lull her into a peaceful sleep. She changed into the sleepwear she'd brought—the filmy black negligée and matching robe, a last minute impulse buy to help create her new self. No more wearing anything that resembled the plain cotton johnny shirts she'd worn in the hospital. This cozy environment begged for curling up in something seductive under the patchwork quilt.

  The ideal way to spend the night would be to nestle in the arms of a lover watching a fire in the Franklin-type fireplace. She had to settle for less than the ideal. Unable to resist the already stacked and waiting pile of wood, she hopped out of bed and struck a match. The edge of the paper caught immediately and soon sent a fiery glow into the room. She turned out the light, climbed into bed and snuggled under the covers.

  The lively crackle of flames filled the room; shadows dancing around the walls pleaded for her indulgence with someone special. Weary from the stress of the evening, she floated off to sleep with Rand on her mind. He followed into her dreams.

  * * * *

  Rand needed a few hours sleep. He had an appointment in the early hours, when those who might be curious were hopefully still in bed. With a myriad of thoughts swirling about, he lay on top of the covers trying to sort out his priorities. Lori's face kept breaking into the midst of his list. He hadn't expected to enjoy the evening so much. Her competitiveness increased his awareness that beneath those flaxen curls and jagged scar, a unique strength held firm. She'd been through hell and survived where others might have been driven to madness. He yearned to know more about her illogical abhorrence for those in his field, without letting her know that he, too, was a cop.

  The stale air in his chalet made breathing difficult. He opened his side window and breathed in the night's moisture. The muted beams of light dotting the grounds lent a mystic touch to the atmosphere. He pulled up a chair and sat a few minutes, enjoying the peace. Finally, exhaustion led him back to bed. It was some time later that muffled sounds from outside startled him to wakefulness. With a trained habit of coming alert at a moment's notice, he jerked upward and listened. Soft gurgling splashes from the current tumbling over flat rocks percolated the air with a soothing melody. He'd heard a different sound—one that jarred him, yet it was no longer there.

  He lay back against the pillows and waited. A few minutes later, anguished moans, loud enough to be heard over the water's lullaby, drifted in from the direction of Lori's chalet. Unable to restrain himself, he crept out into the night. His eyes darted around the empty grounds. A car approached on the highway but didn't slow, and as soon as it was out of sight, Rand moved between the chalets. He discovered that Lori had opened her window against his expressed wish that she didn't. He tapped on the raised pane and whispered her name.

  "Lori? Psst, Lori? Are you okay?” Her covers rustled.

  "W-Who's there?"

  "Rand."

  "W-What do you want?"

  "I heard you moan.” Her bedsprings squeaked.

  "What t-time is it?” Her voice splintered, close to a sob.

  "It's after two. Are you all right?"

  "Oh. Yes. Go back to bed."

  "Not until I've seen you. Open the door."

  "I said I was okay. Leave it at that."

  "No.” He struggled to keep his voice low. “Dammit. If I break in, I'll wake your neighbors. Then you'll have an army in there.” His tone sharpened. “Open the damn door."

  "I don't care about the neighbors. Oh, just a damn minute."

  Rand went around to her front door and waited. He heard a shuffle inside and got ready. When she opened the door a crack, he pushed into the room without giving her an opportunity to stop him. Lori staggered backward, gently landing against her jacket hanging from a hook on the wall. Rand shut the door softly. “You, okay?"

  "Yes, I told you I was.” She collected the ties of her robe around her and shivered in the chilled air. The two layers of sheer fabric hid little. Coming from behind as it did, the lamp at her bedside outlined her body's sleek form as she strut
ted to the fireplace where it was warmer. Rand stood in awe of the pert breasts high on her chest, tiny waist, and narrow hips smoothing to a graceful flow of long slender legs. With only a few glowing embers left amidst the ashes, she hung close, absorbing the warmth.

  "You'll catch cold. Get under the covers.” He walked over to her and, turning her shoulders, aimed her to the bed.

  "I don't need you ordering me around.” Her raised hand indicated an intention to rebel, but when she glanced down at her skimpy attire, she must have had second thoughts. She threw off her robe and disappeared under the covers. He thought he saw a streak of dampness in the grooves of her scar.

  Rand closed the window, giving himself time to consider how best to handle this. He returned and advanced to the bed. “You must have had a nightmare. Want to talk about it?"

  "No."

  "It might help if you let it out.” He sat down on the edge of the mattress.

  She peeked above the quilt. “There's nothing to tell. I'm sorry I disturbed you. I'll keep my window shut. Goodnight."

  "That's no answer to your problem. I don't want to think you're in here suffering."

  "I'll go right back to sleep now, Rand. There won't be any more nightmares tonight. I usually just have one."

  "Every night?"

  "That's my quota."

  He grabbed a spare blanket from a shelf and pulled over an armchair.

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  "I'm making sure you don't have another nightmare. I'm staying.” Rand stretched his legs, full length, then covered himself with the blanket. “Consider me a dragon slayer, here for the protection of a fair maiden."

  "You can't stay."

  "I can and I will, Lori. Otherwise, you'll lay awake the rest of the night."

  "I'll lay awake with you here, too. I don't want you here. I mean it."

  "Okay.” He didn't budge. “I'll just stay until you go to sleep. I have to be up early anyway."

  * * * *

  Short of screaming for help, how was she to cope with such stubbornness? She'd prefer his company to the creeps next door. “You'll freeze toward morning."