by Carol McPhee
* * * *
This wouldn't do. Lori's prying was too obvious. Subtlety was not her strong suit Rand knew, but he'd forgotten to take that trait into account when, as Sergeant McCormick, he'd asked her to be watchful. By her direct questioning, she was making more assumptions that he was a criminal, too. It annoyed the hell out of him.
If Lori was going to pump him for information, Rand wondered why she wasn't more discreet. If she took it upon herself to probe Malcolm Warner this way, she'd land herself in a heap of trouble. Rand had already figured out she wasn't attracted to his role of a playboy on the make. He'd thought the luxury of the yacht would cement the lure, and although she'd been impressed by the pretentious surroundings, she wasn't swayed by them. Otherwise, she damn well would have encouraged him to spend the night with her, not fought it. Would Warner see through her, too?
His memory of the night carried disappointment. He'd hoped for more, but had to settle for listening to her soft breathing and sniffing her faint flowered scent in the air. When she'd nestled under the covers, he'd wanted to crawl in beside her, weave his arm under her neck, crush her close. Ah! His problem was that he'd been away from feminine fluff too long. He missed the comfort and missed the connection of mutual desire. He'd chosen to push these perks to the background in pursuit of his career; seldom had his choice bothered him. He'd never found a companion that could join her spirit with his, so his isolation had been relatively easy until he saw Lori fight her battle in court.
When she had stared into his eyes for only that one incredible moment, his heart had stood still. Immediately, he'd felt the coupling of kindred spirits. He would have done exactly as she had—spoken out in front of everyone to keep her self-respect. Like him, she was no quitter.
It had been a struggle for him to play the sentinel until she went to sleep. Watching the quilt rise and fall with each gentle deep breath had implanted visions of making love fast and furious, so he could catch some sleep, then meet with his informer. Now that he was back on stable ground, he had time to get close to her again—if she'd let him.
"I thought I'd try one of the hiking trails, Lori. Would you like to come?"
"No, thanks. I think I'll finish my painting."
"There are other beautiful spots. I'm sure you don't want to travel the trails alone. We could take our time and scout out another place to set up your easel. I'd like your company."
"Won't your friends miss you?"
"I'm not tied to them. How about it?” He watched her eyes shuttle off to some faraway place, then jump back to stare at him.
"My legs could use the exercise, and if you don't mind me slowing you down, okay, I'll go."
* * * *
Lori knew a snow job when she saw it, but maybe this once it would be all right to simply enjoy the company of a virile man who seemed interested in her. It could go no place afterward, of course, but going out with him would give her a sense of being attractive to a male again. Besides, she might learn something that would be useful to pass on. Oh, damn, here I'm thinking of giving the RCMP one more smidgen of information. What's wrong with me that everyone I meet makes such a strong impression? When I get home, I'm going back to that shrink. At least I'll have a solid argument against his suggestion that a change of scene would cure my ills. They're getting worse.
After she finished her lunch, Lori passed on dessert, and she and Rand leisurely walked to their chalets. She turned to Rand at the bottom of her steps. “I'll change and whistle when I'm ready.” Satisfied that she'd avoided the tension of him coming inside, she ignored the amusement in his eyes.
She changed into a yellow sleeveless blouse and a pair of jeans, then going out the door grabbed a matching jean jacket to protect her arms from straggly underbrush. With her leg in its sorry shape, she didn't plan on going far. The temptation of an escorted walk in the woods had been too strong to resist, but at the first sign of strain, either with her leg or with him, she'd turn back.
They walked along an umbrella-forested trail. Dappled with sunbeams, the track led through woodland scenery straight out of a child's fairy tale book. The vibrant reds and golds carpeting the forest floor aroused a feeling of being one with nature. Her private torments vanished.
In narrowed spots, Lori followed, content to let Rand lead the way. It gave her an opportunity to admire his athletic build and accept his guidance without resistance. Each time he offered his hand, idiotic tingles sprinted low in her body. Would there be no cure for this silly, unwarranted response?
After they covered some distance, she found herself struggling to keep a firm grip on their spirited venture. She was on a jaunt with someone connected to the drug scene, and this weighed heavily on her mind. In addition, her weak leg started gnawing at her nerves.
She didn't want to be a wimp and give in, but the stress almost overwhelmed her. Sam's comments about the drug scene and a citizen's responsibility replayed in her mind. Many lives had been broken, many families torn apart. Her anger swelled. Rand had caused some of the grief, yet he walked along as if he hadn't a care in the world. If he deserved to be brought down, she was in the position to do it.
The more she pondered her predicament, the more immune she became to the beauty around her—until they came to a clearing that looked out on the ocean. The spectacular scenery dismissed her tempestuous thoughts and pain.
"This is what I wanted you to see, Lori. George and I were here once before."
"I could never make it this far with my supplies.” Hands on her hips, she breathed in deeply and let the warm breeze wash over her. She wanted to stay here forever—no people, no sounds but the thunder of waves on the rocks.
Rand waited a few minutes, allowing her to absorb the scene. “I could come with you and spend the day reading, or exploring, or just enjoying the view."
Was his enthusiasm real? It appeared to be, and she tried to beat back an urge to take a leap of blind faith. The granite stone beach lying before them sparkled with intermittent pools of water and seaweed left by the outgoing tide. Waves lashed in a frenzy against the rock-bound shore, a carry-over from the storm far out on the water. She could see clearly how to capture the delight on her canvas and even add to it with crabs scuttling in and out of the tiny lagoons. The sight before her stirred her heart as a real tonic to her soul.
With a gentle tug on her shoulder, Rand drew her close. When she looked up into his eyes, he lowered his head to hers, bringing his mouth to hover in a grazing touch of her lips. She thought of resisting, but her body mutinied, no longer willing to be controlled by her mixed signals. She shut her eyes, raised her hands to his shoulders and reveled in the moist softness of his kiss. She gasped and stepped back. What was she doing?
This was not the way to defend herself against his charisma or the way to gather information for the RCMP. She had to live with herself later. Deceit through a romantic attachment would have vicious repercussions. She noted the stricken look on Rand's face. Damn Sergeant McCormick anyway. He'd been one more person to leave an indelible mark on her memory.
"I didn't mean to offend you, Lori."
"You didn't.” She saw hurt in his eyes, mixed with puzzlement. Probably not used to being given the brush-off.
"Then what's the matter?"
"I'm tired."
"You've been quiet. I thought you were enjoying the trek. I'm sorry. I didn't think it might have been too difficult. Let's rest. This is a great scene for you to paint, don't you think?"
"It sure is. It's more than that, though. It's a place to forget your cares."
He squeezed her hand and led her to an outcropping of boulders. Backing away, he turned and faced the sea. She'd rather he express anger than acquiesce to her changing moods. He played the gentleman too well, putting her to shame. Yet maybe her shame wasn't earned. Why would a man, who had everything anyone could want in life, lead himself down the wrong path? And why would a man, who'd shown honor last night, be friends with drug dealers who honored only themselves? Rem
ember the young people on drugs, Lori. Get hold of yourself and learn what you can.
She looked around her. Another time, when the lighting was as good as today, she would come back following the highway. There must be a road nearby. When a soft salty gust blew her hair back from her face, she wished it could sweep away the new discouragement she felt.
"I'm sorry, Rand. I haven't been good company. There are things in my life I've been trying to escape and it's carried into my personality. I'm not ready for any emotional relationship. I may never be. That's why I broke off the kiss."
He shrugged his shoulders and faced her. She could tell she'd offended him. He was probably used to women falling at his feet and being so self-assured she had rocked him on his heels. Right, and blue elephants grew on trees. Lori smiled, imagining she could rock anyone. She'd long since lost confidence in that department.
Rand sighed and sat down on the same rock, but kept a slight distance between them. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it."
With the wind ruffling his hair he looked more appealing than ever. Her mind soared into overdrive.
"I've talked about it to enough people, including psychiatrists. There's nothing anyone can do. I have to face my problems and deal with them.” No amount of talking could overcome the despair of her fiancé abandoning her when she'd needed him most.
Rand reached for her hand and held on. Lori drew it away, but regretted her hasty reaction. He offered compassion. She yearned for it. She placed her hand on top of his.
"My f-fiancé couldn't stand the s-sight of my injuries. I thought he'd be there for me, but he rarely came to the hospital. He said it was because he couldn't stand the smell in the building, but I knew he lied. It was me he couldn't stand. I couldn't stand myself.” She paused. When she spoke again her voice cracked. “They...” A tear wriggled from the corner of her eye. “The RCMP came to the hospital and Rehab Center asking questions ... Prying into my life. To them I was the one who had done wrong."
"Different officers or the same one?"
Lori knew by even discussing this she was at a crossroad—it bothered her more than her leg.
"Most often, the same one. The Mountie who came in response to the accident call. He was a lifesaver for me at the scene. He kept me calm when all was madness."
"Then afterward..."
"He kept coming everyday with relentless questions that had nothing to do with the accident. I was in so much pain, not just from the injuries but from Penny's death. Then I realized he was trying to place the blame on me. I called a lawyer and refused to talk with him. My part of the blame had to do with delaying our trip by getting my jacket, not because I drove through the red light. The damn light was green."
"What was the officer's name?"
"Constable Jack Hennigar."
* * * *
Rand had met Constable Hennigar. A rookie who had graduated top of his class, the young Mountie had a heart of gold. He'd heard the constable had to be reprimanded at times for not distancing himself in carrying out his duties. That shortcoming would vanish with experience when he learned he could help victims more by remaining in strict control of his own emotions. Hmm. With his caring nature, Constable Hennigar would have been a good man at the scene. I'll have a chat with him when I have time. There's more to this than meets the eye. “So that's why you resent the police?"
"Yes. They didn't help me. There's no such thing as justice. I hate it all."
"My advice to you is to forget it, Lori.” He kept his tone firm to avoid sounding condescending or trite. “Your well-being is worth more than whatever others might say. Don't get caught up in self-pity—it'll destroy you. What you think of yourself is more important. If you know nothing else, remember that.” He lifted her chin.
She looked weary. Her eyes had saddened, her shoulders slumped. Yet her lips invited his caress; it was all he could do to refrain from taking her in his arms, trailing slow kisses across her forehead and the bridge of her nose before he placed the big one on her mouth. He knew she wouldn't appreciate his advances now. She'd already turned him down once.
Without warning, Lori jumped from her perch and hobbled in the direction of the lodge.
Six
Rand quickly caught up with Lori along the trail. Restricted by her shuffling gait, he stayed behind, thinking it prudent not to bombard her with questions. Even when they reached the grounds of the chalets, she didn't look back and didn't stop until she reached her deck's bottom step. She turned to face him. “Rand, I'm going to have a nap. Thank you for showing me that beautiful spot."
"Let me know when you'd like to go there and paint."
She smiled faintly, then went inside.
Rand could only see the negative side of their hike. In effect, she'd made it clear that she wasn't welcoming his friendship, even after the warmth of her body had pressed against his for those few precious seconds. Baffled by her unsociable attitude, he trudged to his chalet.
When he glanced out his front window a few minutes later and saw Malcolm strolling alone by the rapids, his sullen mood quickly changed. This was an opportunity to meet in private with the man he would destroy. He hurried out the door, but slowed his pace as he stepped off the veranda. He ambled to the water's edge. “Hello, Malcolm. It's a great day to take in the fresh air with a relaxing walk. I just got back from a hike in the woods."
"I noticed you coming out the path with your lady friend. She's the gal you told us you were hanging out with, right? Who is she?"
The cop in him tensed; the shifty gleam in Warner's eye indicated he already knew all he needed to know about Lori. But Warner probably hadn't had time to find out many details on his background and was testing his mettle. The RCMP had purposefully made tracking his life difficult, filling it with false leads so it would appear he was the roving seaman he claimed. If he got caught in a lie, he would blow Malcolm's trust. Better play it straight about Lori, at least.
"She's Lori Wheeler from Halifax; she works for the Department of Justice.” He watched a sly smile stretch through Warner's rutted complexion.
"You're interested in a woman with a close connection to the law?” Malcolm's eyes widened, but Rand figured his expression was only a pretense at dismay. The chances were high that he'd have remembered her at the courthouse on one of his visits.
"Believe me, no close attachment there. Lori received a raw deal in an accident case and has no love for the legal system.” Rand's gaze met the other man's. “It never hurts to have friends in high places. To tell you the truth, I thought she might be a good source of information if some of my business dealings end up in court.” That ended the honesty, but wasn't anything that could be disproved.
"I see. The longer I know you, Rand, the more impressed I am with your ingenuity. I noticed the pair of you didn't seem overjoyed in each other's company just now. Not getting along?"
"We had a slight disagreement.” He should have made a point of walking beside her once they came into the clearing. With her head bent and walking as fast as she could, he'd respected that Lori wanted him to leave her alone. “We just met yesterday.” He knew Warner would think him dense if he acted moonstruck. Rand added a further comment to show his interest in her, “The way her life is going, she's ripe for some fun."
"Perhaps we might all have dinner together, say at six o'clock?"
"That's okay with me, Malcolm. Thanks. I'll see if Lori is up to it. She seemed tired, and maybe after a rest, she won't be so out of sorts."
Rand and Malcolm watched the fast flowing current and settled into small talk about the Destiny's history, skirting around other topics that might draw fire. The drug leader was obviously wary in his approach to strangers and avoided any mention of his own activities.
Just when Rand had given up hope of learning anything further, the smuggler came out with the statement Rand had been waiting to hear. “The freighter bringing my goods is underway again. I expect it within a couple of days."
"How did you find
out?"
"I have my ways, Rand. Stick with me; you'll discover things that will surprise you and whet your appetite for more adventure. If my plans work out satisfactorily, we can use your yacht and skills for some time to come."
"I'm at your command. Right now, I'd better get in touch with Lori and tell her about your dinner suggestion. See you at six."
"I'm looking forward to it.” Warner walked over and entered his own chalet.
Rand walked hesitantly to Lori's door. There was no sign of movement, yet she'd had more than enough time to unwind and hopefully lighten her mood. Since it wouldn't take much to undo the progress he'd made with the smuggler, he hoped to take time to get her in a more receptive frame of mind.
Lori still frustrated him because concern for her well being occupied his mind when he had other matters to deal with. The picturesque setting on the shore had pulled at his heartstrings and made it impossible to resist her tempting lips. He wanted her, but he had to tread lightly where her emotional stability was involved. With someone else, he could have used the excitement of a new relationship to follow through and enjoy pleasures of the flesh. A bright sunny day, fluffy clouds hovering above combined with a roaring surf and privacy galore, what more could be needed for romance? Lori's eager participation, that's what. It was just his luck she fascinated him beyond reason. Was the attraction he felt for her putting them all in danger? It could be and he'd better rid himself of this emotional conflict pronto.
