by Beverly Long
He was a damn fool. She’d offered and he’d turned her down. He hadn’t had much of a choice. He sure as hell wasn’t going to disappoint Baker McCann or Mack by taking advantage of the situation.
What they both needed was a little perspective. And a little sleep. It was almost eight, the time when most reasonable people were just starting their day. There’d been nothing reasonable about the past ten hours. From the minute he’d crashed through the tree boughs only to realize that he had Chandler McCann in his arms, he’d been solely focused on keeping her safe.
At the time, he’d thought his biggest worry was going to be her sore shoulder.
An explosion in the middle of the night had quickly upped the ante, and now a damn race across the mountains in the middle of a blizzard was bordering on sheer madness.
Was it possible that her stepmother was selling military secrets? Could Baker McCann have given his heart to a monster?
No, not the Baker he knew and respected and loved. Yes, loved. He’d been a young boy in need of a father figure, and Baker had been more than just an acceptable stand-in. He’d inspired Ethan, given him hope.
He wasn’t going to sleep with the man’s daughter.
He recalled what Roxy had said about the shower—that the hot water would last a long time. He hoped the same was true about the cold.
He carefully got up, grabbed his duffel bag and left the room. When he opened the door, Molly lifted her head but made no move to follow him.
When he opened the bathroom door and saw Chandler’s underwear drying on the radiator, he almost forgot his resolve. She might have a towel on but she didn’t have anything on underneath it.
She’d said she was “old enough.” Her lacy dark blue underwear screamed “sexy and old enough.” And that was a hell of a combination.
He turned on the cold water and ducked his head under.
After his shower, he shaved and brushed his teeth and got dressed in clean clothes. He stuffed his dirty ones into his duffel bag and crossed the narrow hallway.
Chandler was still fast asleep, although she’d turned over in the bed. She’d thrown off the covers and her towel had come undone.
He could see most of her back. Soft skin. Delicate ridge of her spine. Gentle rise of her buttock.
Hell. He closed his eyes, turned and lay down on the floor, facing away from the bed.
He needed to get her to Denver, help her find a safe way back into her old company and then leave her in Baker’s or Mack’s safe custody.
* * *
CHANDLER WASN’T SURE how long she’d slept, but when she woke up, she could see Ethan asleep on the floor. She quietly stretched, making almost no noise, but still his eyes immediately flipped open.
She grabbed the edges of her towel, holding them together. She didn’t want him to think that she’d gotten so crazy that she was literally going to throw her naked body at him.
“Hi,” she said, determined to get back to where they’d been before she’d propositioned him.
He smiled. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah. What time is it?”
He looked at his watch. “Almost lunchtime. We slept for about four hours. Are you hungry?”
“I could probably eat. I’d like something to drink for sure.”
“I’m going to take Molly outside while you get dressed. Then we can go downstairs, grab some lunch and check on the weather conditions. I’m assuming the road is still closed or Roxy would have been knocking on the door.”
“Maybe she got busy and couldn’t get away?” she said, hoping for the best.
He shrugged, then shifted from his back to his feet in one smooth motion. It was that same agility that probably had allowed him to climb the tree.
He’d likely be a very graceful lover.
That thought made the heat flood to her face.
“Are you okay? Does your shoulder hurt?”
“A little,” she said, willing to let him think that was the reason she looked a little hot and bothered. “Once I get up and going, it will be fine.”
He nodded, opened the door and whistled for Molly. The dog immediately started dancing around and Ethan clipped on her leash.
“You don’t happen to have a comb I could borrow, do you?” Chandler asked, pulling at her long dark hair.
He reached into his duffel. “Here,” he said, tossing it at her. “I’ve got my toothbrush and some toothpaste, and I’m okay sharing it.”
She ran her tongue across her teeth. It would be wonderful to brush them. “Thank you.”
He grabbed the items from his bag and tossed them in her direction, as well. They landed on the bedspread. “I’ll be back in just a minute,” he said before he left.
She climbed from the bed, wrapped the towel tight and walked to the bathroom. Her underwear was dry and she pulled it on. Then her jeans and her shirt.
She slipped on the socks Ethan had lent her and her loafers, which were dry but beat up from the walk in the snow.
She looked in the mirror. The burn across her nose and cheeks was fading. She ran Ethan’s comb through one section of her hair. Then another, until it was ready to be gathered up and secured with the clip. Then she brushed her teeth.
When she returned to the room, Ethan and Molly were already back and he’d made the bed. He was sitting on the end of it.
“That was fast,” she said.
“Molly’s not a big fan of the snow.”
But she did seem to like her food. Ethan had dumped some of the dry dog food into the empty plastic container. There was still plenty of water in the other one.
She handed him his toiletries. “Thanks. I’ve never used anyone else’s toothbrush before.”
“Not your boyfriend’s?” he asked. “Christivo, right?” he added, surprising her.
“How did you know his name?”
“Mack might have mentioned it,” he said casually.
She’d met Christivo Kappas the first semester of her senior year in college. Professor Christivo Kappas. She’d needed a liberal arts credit and philosophy sounded as good as any.
She really should have picked a theology class.
He spoke of concepts and teachings that she’d never heard of, and she’d thought he was brilliant. She’d approached him after class one day with a question, and that had led to coffee, which led to quiet dinners in his small apartment. By the fifth week of class, she’d been sleeping with him. It had been a fantasy-like romance, with him pursuing her relentlessly. The experience had been quite heady, really. She’d agreed to keep the relationship a secret, believing that he was concerned about how his boss might interpret his having a relationship with a student.
He’d been her first lover and by the end of the semester, she’d begun planning her wedding. She’d told Mack and her dad about the relationship and they’d been insistent about meeting Christivo. But he’d had one reason after another as to why he wasn’t able to.
Six weeks into the second semester, he’d dumped her, admitting that he was married and that his wife and two children lived three hours away, in their hometown.
She’d been so embarrassed that she hadn’t told her family the truth. She’d lied and said they’d mutually agreed to part.
“Christivo might have shared a toothbrush with his wife but he never shared one with me,” she said, unsure why she wanted to share that bit of information with Ethan.
He frowned. “His wife?”
“Yeah. Mack doesn’t know that, however, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell him. Even though it’s been eight years, he’d probably still want to kill him for me.”
“Maybe I’ll do it for him,” Ethan said, his voice hard.
She shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
He stared at her.
“But there’s been no one else?”
“I’ve dated,” she said, feeling the need to defend herself. “Quite a bit,” she added.
“But never got serious with anyone again?”
She hadn’t been that brave. “I was busy. Working full-time, and I just finished getting my master’s degree last year.”
He nodded but she could tell that he didn’t believe her.
What else could she say? I was waiting for you or at least the image of you I’ve carried around in my head since I was fourteen. He’d be scared that she’d left crazy germs on his toothbrush.
* * *
THERE WERE TWO different men sitting at the counter when they got downstairs. These guys were a bit older but dressed almost identically to the ones who had occupied the stools that morning. Whoever sold the brown overalls in town had a real monopoly going.
There was a husband and wife and a noisy baby in a high chair. The only other occupied booth had one lone man drinking coffee and eating a piece of chocolate cream pie.
Which Chandler took one look at and promptly decided that she was having a piece.
They took the booth farthest from the door. Ethan took the side facing the door; Chandler had her back to it.
When Roxy approached the table, she smiled at them. “Looks as if you got some sleep. You don’t look quite so hollow-eyed.”
“The bed was really comfortable,” Chandler said. “Wasn’t it, honey?” she added, looking at Ethan.
“Felt good to stretch out,” he replied, not missing a beat.
She wanted to roll her eyes but she didn’t. When Roxy pointed at a chalkboard on the wall, Chandler quickly read through the six choices. Ethan had been right about the meat loaf special. “I’ll have the meat loaf. And a piece of that pie,” she added, inclining her head in the direction of the lone diner.
“I’ll take the egg salad sandwich and the beef barley soup,” Ethan said.
“You going to let your wife eat her pie alone?” Roxy asked.
Ethan shook his head. “Nope. I’ll take a piece of that, too.”
As Roxy walked away, they switched their attention to the television. The volume was low but they were close enough that they could hear the announcer. “Worst storm in ten years.” “Snow falling at more than two inches an hour.” “Interstate 70 expected to be closed for at least another twelve hours.”
That meant it would be at least midnight before they could get on their way. And that was the most optimistic perspective.
“I need a book,” Chandler said.
“Huh?”
“I’m going to go crazy without anything to do for twelve more hours. I need a book or a magazine or something.”
“I got a deck of cards in the truck,” he said.
Sometimes when Mack, Ethan and Brody had played cards in their basement, her dad would make the boys a snack and she got to take it down to them. One time, when she was probably eight, she had begged and begged to be included in the game. Mack had given her a few chips and said she could play until she lost her money. Then he’d given her a crash course in poker.
She’d promptly lost most of her chips until suddenly she started winning. It had been so much fun.
Then Mack had realized that Ethan was throwing in good hands so that she’d keep her head above water. He’d yelled at Ethan, who hadn’t bothered to defend himself.
It was just one of the many reasons she’d fallen in love with him.
As she’d gotten older, the boys would sometimes let her play. Mack would always tell Ethan, Now, don’t let her win. And she wasn’t sure if he did or not because she’d become a pretty good poker player.
“Cards might work,” she said. “Do you still play poker?”
He nodded.
Roxy approached the table with their food. The meat loaf came with mashed potatoes and gravy and corn. It looked delicious.
They ate in silence, although not really because the television droned on and the baby was banging his spoon on the metal high chair tray.
While they were eating, a woman entered. She was tall and had a stocking cap pulled on low over her long brown hair. “Oh, my God, Roxy, am I ever glad you’re still open. Isn’t this the worst storm ever?”
“She’s not making me feel better,” Chandler whispered.
“Just enjoy your meat loaf. Live in the moment.”
“Thank you, Master Zen.”
He smiled.
The woman sat on one of the empty stools. “I’ll have to take mine to go,” she said. “Horace is out helping the county keep the roads to the hospital open. But he said he’d be back by three to take me home. Give me some soup and whatever you got that’s chocolate for dessert.”
A woman after her own heart. Chandler pushed her meat loaf aside. She’d eaten most of it. It was time for pie.
She ate it all and had her hands resting on her full belly when Roxy came back with the check. Again, Ethan pulled out cash, leaving Roxy a great tip.
“Roxy, is there anyplace we could buy some ibuprofen? I’ve got a sore knee,” Ethan said.
“Fantail Drugs. Jaylene there at the counter runs the place. It’s just down the road. They carry about everything. The kitchen is just packing up her food. You can follow her back.”
“I’ll go upstairs and get our coats,” Chandler said, grateful for the chance to get some fresh air. Heck, maybe they sold women’s underwear and she could pick up a couple extra pairs. And Ethan could give up sharing his toothbrush.
She slid out of the booth. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Chapter Eight
Chandler wasn’t back when the door opened and two men came in. Ethan pretended to be solely interested in eating his pie. They both had dark hair and pale skin. One was short, probably not over five-three. His chin looked as if he’d had a run-in with a dull ax blade. The other was taller, maybe around five-ten. Hard to guess their weight because they wore big coats. They had snow on their pants up to their knees.
They looked at everyone in the small diner, glancing quickly past the family with the baby and the two men at the counter. They settled on Jaylene at the counter, who had her back to them.
They shared a quick moment of eye contact and then separated, coming at her from both sides. She glanced at one, frowned, then at the other. There was no sign of recognition in her round eyes.
The two men shared another quick glance and Ethan could see the frustration in their eyes. They’d been interested in Jaylene until they’d seen her face.
From the back, they’d have noticed a lone woman with brown hair down to the middle of her back.
Of course, it was curly and a dull brown. Certainly not a silky, shiny dark brown that smelled like tart cherries and vanilla. But these guys had probably been given the shorthand version.
Ethan was sure of it. They were looking for Chandler. He wanted to beat the hell out of them.
But he forced himself to stay in his seat.
He’d always been a good fighter, had learned to protect himself, and later, when he’d had to protect his mother, had handled a man who had outweighed him by fifty pounds.
But they probably were armed and someone might get hurt. What if a stray shot hit the child? What if they had reinforcements out in the car who managed to somehow grab Chandler when Ethan’s attention was on these two?
He wouldn’t take the chance. Not unless he had to.
“Can I help you?” Roxy asked, sounding a bit annoyed. She didn’t know these men, that was clear. And she didn’t like how they’d come up and surrounded Jaylene.
“Two coffees to go,” the short one said. “Heavy on the cream. And a couple pieces of whatever you’ve got for dessert.”
Roxy made fast work out of pouring the coffee and putting lids on
the cups. Then she put two pieces of the chocolate pie into a container with two plastic forks.
Hurry up and leave, he willed. Chandler would be back any minute.
Roxy took the white plastic sack to the counter. The men handed her a bill and waited while she counted out the change. The tall one asked her something but Ethan couldn’t hear because the baby was still clanging his spoon. Ethan saw Roxy shake her head and shrug. Then she handed them the bag and walked away.
They left, letting in a blast of cold air.
Ethan shifted in his seat, enough that he could see the street. Sure enough, within a minute, a big black Suburban rolled past with the two men inside, keeping in the path that the snowplow must have cut sometime when he and Chandler were sleeping. The vehicle handled that portion of the road fine, but Ethan figured they would have trouble if they got somewhere that hadn’t yet been plowed.
Ethan felt stupid. He’d been the one who had told Chandler that they had to assume that the men would keep looking. But when the storm had continued and the road conditions had worsened, he’d gotten complacent. He really hadn’t figured that somebody would be hot on their trail.
These people seemed to want to find Chandler in the worst way. And he didn’t think it was so they could tell her that they were worried sick that she was missing.
Roxy bagged up Jaylene’s order next and the woman pushed a few dollars across the counter, not waiting to get any change. “See you tomorrow,” she said, wrapping her scarf around the hair that had caught the men’s attention. “Unless the snow’s up to my armpits.”
He got up fast. He didn’t want Chandler coming into full view—there were several windows and he wasn’t taking any chances that somebody else was still watching the restaurant. He met her halfway up the stairs.
“I told you I’d bring you your coat,” she said.
“Two men just came in. Caucasian. Dark hair. Mid-forties. One was five-three, with an ugly scar on his chin. The other, five-ten. Recognize that description?”
“Not particularly, but why? Did they ask about me?” Her face had lost all its natural color.
“Not that I heard. But they focused on Jaylene at the counter. On her long brown hair.”
