Nobody's Hero

by Liz Lee

  Could he see what she’d worked so hard to hide? The hurt, the disillusionment, the anger.

  She closed her eyes to keep him from seeing more and wished the awareness would come back, wipe away the bad thoughts, the lump in her throat that threatened to turn to tears any second.

  But when she opened her eyes again, he was looking out over the lake as if the moment had never occurred.

  Good. That was good. She repeated the thought again and again until he finally spoke.

  “So you really like chocolate, huh?”

  Oh thank God. This she could handle. And like was an understatement. “Yeah. I think it’s kind of a sickness really. It started with late night runs to a local drive-thru for hot fudge sundaes on nights Charlie worked late, graduated to full out assaults on Ben and Jerry’s after Charlie left. When he died, he left me broke. You’d be surprised how good Ghiradelli’s tastes when the bills come in.”

  Wow. She hadn’t meant to tell him all that. Hadn’t meant to say anything. But now she had and he was looking at her like she’d totally lost it. She’d probably killed all attraction he’d felt with that little confession. She’d seen for herself what a health nut he was.

  And that was okay. She’d learned a long time ago that Haagan Dazs beat the heck out of lying in the bed of a faithless man.

  Besides, she didn’t want to be in Riley’s bed anyway. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him. If she kept repeating that thought, it had to be true.

  Chapter Four

  Thirty minutes later as he and Callah walked up to his cabin, Riley figured they were safe. No gun shots. No strange people lurking around corners. For now it was just him and Callah looking at him like he’d saved the day.

  Wonderful. He’d gone from worn out, washed up reporter to superhero in less than twenty-four hours. Stand back Bat Man.

  He looked down where she stood waiting for him to tell her what to do next. Her eyes were round and scared and just a little aggravated as she looked around the back of the cabin. She was trying to hide the aggravated part. He could tell by the way her mouth tilted up at him as she waited.

  Her sweet smile made him feel like a saint. Her sinful lips made him feel about as far away from saintly as a man could get.

  Damn, she was still one hot babe. He really needed to stop thinking about her like that. Fishing the cabin keys out of his pocket he told himself to get his mind back where it belonged. Callah was on the run for her life. They needed to find out why.

  Once they made it inside the cabin, he pointed to the bedroom off the side of the living room. “You can put the bag in there for now. If you want a nap or something, go ahead and sleep. The sheets are clean. I’m going to call my brother.”

  Anything to get away from the unadulterated appreciation he saw on her face. She needed to remember who she was dealing with here. He wasn’t some sort of savior. He was a creep who couldn’t seem to stop thinking about talking her out of her clothes even though they were on the run from some unknown boogey-man.

  “I slept plenty. I’ll stay in here while you talk to your brother. He may want to ask me something.”

  He shrugged determined to put distance of some sort between them. “Whatever suits your fancy, Sweetheart.”

  She started to speak, but he stopped her with a wave of his hand. “I know. I know. Don’t call you sweetheart.”

  Her mouth snapped shut and she turned to face him, hands on her hips accentuating their smooth curves. Oh yeah. She was in battle mode. The last thing he needed or wanted was Callah Crenshaw in full battle mode. He’d just keep telling himself that every time he said or did something to get her right there. Ms. Attila the Virginal Hun. One hot babe.

  “How long are we going to play this cat and mouse game, Riley? You stand over there acting all tough guy on me, and I stand over here ready to rip into you because you’re driving me crazy. Do this. Do that. Go sleep like a good little girl.”

  Whoa baby. “So what exactly are you saying here, Callah? You want to get a little closer? Play with fire? ‘Cause if that’s the case, I’m your man. I’m real good with fires.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.” Her face took on a whole new kind of fire. A little on the prudish side. A lot on the good girl side. Patented sexy Callah Crenshaw. That look just about drove him wild.

  And even though he knew that wasn’t what she meant, he also knew they were going to be out here alone with nothing to do to pass the time. If he let her get close, no telling how much damage she’d do. He wasn’t going to let Callah break down barriers he’d spent a lifetime building.

  He stepped across the hardwood floor, crowded her on purpose, prepared to lie as if his life depended on it. She smelled like spring rain and daisies. Who the hell smelled like daisies? “No, Callah. I don’t know what you mean. Enlighten me.”

  It took everything in him not to touch her. To see if her arms were as soft as they looked. To see how quickly she’d thread her fingers through his hair and pull his mouth to hers.

  For a second she stood there, her chin set in that stubborn tilt he decided he liked. It showed the fire inside her. The princess part her asshole ex-husband hadn’t destroyed.

  Silent seconds passed as she met his gaze without blinking. Finally, she looked away, disgust crossing her face. “Fine. You want to play this game, keep up pretense, whatever. I don’t want to know the real you anyway.”

  Glory, hallelujah. “Honey, I’ve already told you. This is the real me.”

  She didn’t bother answering, just plopped down on the couch before turning to look out on the lake. Retreat. Just what he wanted. So how come he felt like he’d lost the battle?

  What was wrong with him? She got under his skin. It was the adoration he’d seen for just a moment. That look in her eyes that said he was right up there with their first grade teacher, or the preacher, or maybe even a firefighter who saved her cat when she was a kid.

  He couldn’t stand it. Because there was no reason to look at him like that. He might have saved her from the unknown. But he was going to find the truth. He was going to dig and dig until he knew why she was in danger and who she was. And once he knew, there wasn’t going to be a happily ever after for sweet Callah Crenshaw. He was going to majorly screw with her world.

  He didn’t want to, but the truth was the truth. And there was no way this truth was going to end in happily ever after. It was probably going to hurt like hell. And when he was done, she’d wish to God she’d never met him. But she’d be alive. Given the alternative, he’d take that every time.

  The real him. What a joke. Callah wondered if he even knew who the real him was. He liked to pretend he was some sort of bad boy with major attitude, but this place said something different.

  Something quiet. Something real. Something more in line with a man who wrote for a living. The white whicker furniture, sparse. The wooden rocking chair looking out the window spoke of another time, another life. No plants. No decorative touches. But the view of the lake was incredible.

  One picture. Black and white. An old man—scruffy with a beard and mustache that needed trimming in a major way—and a young boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, standing on a dock holding up a giant fish and smiling like he’d won the Mega Millions jackpot. The old man she thought she might know, but she couldn’t quite place. The boy was Riley. A Riley she’d never known. He’d certainly never looked so free, so happy when she’d seen him at school. Not even later when they’d spent hours in each other’s arms.

  She looked over where he now leaned against a worn wooden kitchen cabinet squinting his eyes and tapping a pencil on a notebook as he waited for someone, his brother probably, to answer the call he was placing. Why’d he have to look so good? Everything would be easy if time had done half to him what it had done to her. But no. He looked better than ever. And God only knew why he wanted to turn every little comment into some sort of sexual innuendo.

  Probably some sort of defense mechanism. A way to push her back.
His attitude was one big No Trespassing sign. His mouth Attack Dogs on Guard.

  Fine. She didn’t want to be his friend anyway. He was just some burned out reporter who’d happened along the story of a lifetime. She needed to remember that.

  She was his story. His ticket to fame.

  She listened as he talked to what she supposed was an answering machine. His brother must still be out. Terrific. No telling how long she’d be stuck here with Mr. honey-sweetheart-this-is-thereal-me-Congeniality. He left a short message and clicked the phone back in place before crossing to the living room and falling in the chair next to her.

  She didn’t want to look at him. Somehow she’d let him hurt her feelings. She couldn’t decide whether it was the fact that he was purposefully being a jerk to make her back off that hurt or if it was the fact that he refused to be real. She was so sick of pretenses.

  And that was okay. She didn’t want him to mean any of his outrageous words. She didn’t. But it would be nice for a man to just once look at her with passion, with want, with temptation for more than a few seconds.

  Riley bent forward, rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his strong hands and steepled his fingers. What horrible comment was he working on now? Obviously he wanted to say something. She waited, raised her eyebrows and met his eyes with her own. Creep. Jerk. Why do you have to be so damn sexy?

  Callah crossed her arms across her stomach and Riley tapped his fingers a couple more times. When he cleared his throat, Callah forced herself not to say a word. Not to demand he let her in on whatever top-secret, life saving, superhero-reporter-to-the-rescue plan he had now.

  “I better start by saying I was a real jerk a few minutes ago. I’m sorry.”

  Well blow her over and call her a goose. An apology. She couldn’t believe it. Apologies did not come easily to this man. They made him uncomfortable. Good. No way was she going to make this easier.

  “You were right. I know you were talking about being…” he stopped and she bit her tongue to keep from telling him to forget about it.

  “…About being friends…of a sort, I guess.”

  He guessed? What exactly would it take to make things clear? Callah nodded stiffly as she tried to come up with the right words to answer him, but he wasn’t done.

  “I know you think that’s a good idea, Callah. I even understand it. You’re a good person. And even though you’ve been screwed royally by your ex, and even though he could very well be the reason you’re in danger, you see the good in me.”

  She couldn’t let him go on. She just couldn’t. It was too embarrassing. “I know I’m a story, Riley. I know that’s why you called me. I know that’s why you showed up at my house. I get it. We don’t have to be friends.”

  He nodded once. Twice. The little muscle on the side of his jaw ticked under his unshaven chin. For a second she wondered what it would feel like to touch that scratchy skin, but she forced the image out of her mind.

  Just when she thought he was done, he leaned forward again and looked into her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn’t look away. She didn’t even try.

  “No, Callah. I mean, yeah, you’re a story. And, yeah, that’s the reason I called you originally. But that’s not the reason I showed up at your house. When I saw those pictures and that note and realized there was a chance you might be in real danger, I couldn’t let it go. I had to make sure you were okay.”

  Oh. For a minute, she’d thought…no. She’d misunderstood the look in his eyes again.

  He took a deep breath, and she tried to make him see it was fine. She understood. She was a responsibility. Not a friend. And certainly nothing more. And she didn’t want that anyway.

  But she couldn’t say all that. So she settled for, “Well then, thank you.” What else could she say? She wasn’t going to get all mushy on him. He’d totally freak out, and then where would they be? God only knew what he’d do if she showed real emotion.

  Shoot, her entire life was one big lie anyway. Who needed reality?

  He nodded, smiled slightly, and she thought it was over. That they could go back to normal. To worrying about who was after her. Who the dog walker might be. Why he wanted her.

  But Riley wasn’t done. ”I’m not a good person, Callah. I was honest about who I am. And even though I was being a total ass, I was honest a few minutes ago too. When I look at you, I wonder if your lips are still as soft as I remember. When you stand there looking all prim and proper, hands on your hips, I want to get close, run my hands over you and pull you close enough to let you feel just what you do to me.

  “And damn lady, when you talk about chocolate, I want to buy a chocolate factory and tempt you with it every chance I get. So I’m not real sure your friends idea is going to work.” He stopped, sat back, shrugged and smiled that sexy smile that drove her crazy. “But, I’m willing to try.”

  Oh my God. She was going to melt. Right there on the spot. Call her a puddle and get it over with.

  And she thought he was afraid of emotion. Here he’d gone and been honest again. Just what she thought she wanted. Lord save her from honest men.

  When she could finally pull her chin off the floor, she gulped and met his eyes. His jaw was dark, his smile real and, oh my, the man had eyes to die for. Who was she kidding? If this was his brand of honesty, she definitely wanted more.

  Riley watched the color blossom on Callah’s cheeks as he spoke. Watched as she put his words in a category she was ready to deal with and then looked up at him with that good girl smile back in place.

  “Well good then. I’m glad we’ve got that settled.”

  He didn’t know what she thought they had settled, but if it made her feel better to think they’d worked something out, that was fine with him.

  He stood and walked over to the window that looked out on the lake. Boats of all shapes and sizes bobbed out on the choppy water and he wondered which one was looking for them. Because by now at least one was. Of that he was sure. He let the curtain fall back into place and turned to face her.

  “My brother was out. No telling when he’ll get back to us. If I haven’t heard from him in the next couple hours, I’ll call again.”

  She nodded and rubbed her hands over her arms. He’d turned on the air as soon as they walked in, but it hadn’t cooled the summer-heated room, so he knew she wasn’t cold.

  Probably shocked.

  He tossed her a blanket then turned away before he touched her, because God knew the last thing either of them needed right now was to throw that into the mix. “I’m going to plug in the laptop, research a little. You want to help?”

  She blinked as if trying to figure out what they were going to research and he thought about teasing her again just to get her back with him.

  “Do I really look prim and proper?”

  This lady could really miss a point. He couldn’t stop his laugh. “Honey, you look prim and proper and naughty as hell all at the same time. We can sit around talking about how bad I want you or we can get busy trying to figure out who the hell’s after you. I figure we better do the latter first. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about me wanting you.”

  That seemed to do it for her.

  The smile on her face made him feel like Superman. Her ex had really done a number on her. He’d have to be careful or she’d do a number on him.

  She followed him to the kitchen and waited while he plugged his broadband card into the laptop and logged on to the Internet. A few clicks later and he had every bit of information he needed on her.

  “Holy crap, Callah. Do you fill in all your personal info every time you get online? I think I’ve got everything here but your social. And I bet I could get that easily enough.”

  Callah looked over his shoulder and tried not to freak out. Okay. So he’d been online all of five minutes and had her address, phone number, three e-mail accounts and several links to stories about her. He was an investigative reporter. He did this kind of thing all the time.


  “I just fill in the information they ask for.”

  He shook his head and Googled her name. The first ten entries were articles on the plane crash and the news that it might not have been an accident.

  One was about her escape to Burkette.

  A few were about someone else with the same name. Nothing earth-shattering there. At least that’s what she was thinking until she watched him page through the rest of the results, writing each of the names and locations on his notebook. Seventeen different Callah Crenshaws. All of them her age. Most of them living in towns she’d lived in before. One in London, another in Paris, another in Rome. Strange. She’d never met another Callah, certainly never a Callah Crenshaw. She started to say that, but then, at the bottom of the third page of results, she saw the word.

  Obituary.

  Riley clicked on the link, and she read the headline about the girl who shared her name. Local girl dies in hit and run accident. The story was six years old. No photo.

  It was a coincidence. It had to be. Right?

  She said the words out loud at the same time Riley picked up his cell and hit redial. His expletive slammed through the room as he clipped the phone shut, but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t take her eyes from the pages of information on the computer screen.

  “Listen Callah. I don’t know what’s going on, but we have to believe it has something to do with you. With the letter. With the man at your door. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Oh my God. Callah fought the urge to scream at Riley, to tell him she wasn’t an idiot. This wasn’t about Charlie’s B-list movies. This wasn’t about the plane crash. It was about the envelope under Riley’s hand. It was about the birth certificate, the pictures. It was about her.

  And who she wasn’t.

  No more games. No more pretending.