Dearest Enemy (12 page)

“I’ve noticed.”

"But the thought of you keeps pulling at me." He leaned closer. "I can't get you out of my mind...."

She touched his cheek, as before, enjoying the growth of stubble. "I haven't been to sleep yet...."

"I have to get to work in two hours."

"You can't do a good job without rest," she murmured.

"What d'you
have
planned today?" His voice had smoothed out as if the act of speaking had reduced his stress level. She felt his breath against her mouth.

"I have to ride into Albuquerque."

"A dangerous trip if your reflexes aren't sharp."

 
"Then could you say this is preventive medicine...?" She twined her fingers in his thick, coarse textured hair that felt just as she'd known it would.

"Preventive?" he murmured. "'Therapeutic, is more like it." His tongue searched for hers, making gentle contact as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Curative?"
Her hands slipped beneath his shirt and caressed his back.

"Not the way my heart is pounding," he said with a small groan.

"Or the way my pulse is racing."

"Palliative, then?"
He cupped one breast in its thin covering of cotton, brushing the hardened nipple with a fingertip.

"You
do
read, Señor Sheriff." Callie sighed against his mouth. "I can definitely predict relief in store."

"But no cure?"

"That remains to be seen."

"Well, then,
querida
, let's look."

Callie hesitated, surprising both of them. In answer to her sudden bout of shyness, Luc lay down, stretching the length of his body along hers and wrapping his arms around her again. Nestled within his strong yet gentle embrace, she felt sheltered, warmed and so wanted.

“How’s this?” he whispered.

“I’d like to stay this way forever.”

“I don’t think I can wait that long.”

“For what?”

“For this.”
His lips touched hers, gently at first, then with more insistence. His tongue resumed its exploration of the slippery inner surface of her mouth, enticing her to do the same to his.

“And this,” he said. His hand slipped beneath her shirt, caressing her breasts until both nipples hardened and her velvety skin trembled from his touch.

“Luc,” Callie
said,
his name a groan against his mouth. Her hands kneaded the corded muscles of his bare back and shoulders.

“And this.”
He drew the shirt over her head and lowered his mouth to her creamy breasts, caressing first one and then the other with soft, butterfly kisses.

Callie unbuckled his belt and together they worked his jeans down and off, tossing them aside. Her running shorts followed.

Needing more of his warmth and to feel the strength of his powerful body, she arched into him and pulled him closer until nothing separated them. They lay chest to chest, belly to belly. She thrilled at the hard, throbbing response she’d aroused in him, gloried in the moist heat that greeted his exploration of the place where her thighs met.

“What else, Luc?”

As her legs trapped his hand in a fierce embrace, he replied in words she had no hope of understanding, but whose meaning came through clearly in the want and need vibrating in his voice. She gripped his hips and pressed her heated mound against his arousal in a silent plea for
more
. He slipped his hands beneath her, lifting her buttocks and arching her body into his, letting her feel the full measure of his strength.

Heedless of every promise he’d made to keep his distance, Luc succumbed finally to their mutual need. “Will you come with me,
querida
?”

Callie gasped. “Yes.
Por Dios
, yes.”

Luc chuckled at her first words in his language. He parted her legs,
then
remembered. “I have no protection, my love.”

“I’m protected,” she said with something like a groan.

“Patience,
mi vida
.”

“Patience, my fanny.”
Grinning wickedly, she twisted her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. “I’ve had patience. I’ve run out.”

He laughed with joy as she bracketed his hips with her legs. Just then, a fist pounded on the front door, bringing their lovemaking to a heart-stopping, mind-numbing halt. A gravelly voice shouted something unintelligible seconds before heavy boots crossed the veranda and thumped down the steps.

Callie slipped on a caftan and dashed downstairs. By the time she opened the door the intruder was gone. In his wake, he'd left a reminder of his presence with a can of spray paint. TRAMP!
he'd
written. LEAVE THIS VALLEY — NOW! A trail of paint at the bottom of the exclamation point faded out like the disappearing tail of a comet.

Shocked by the inscription, Callie hunkered down to stare at the words. She rested her arms on her thighs and clasped her hands in front of her.
Once before an even more vicious version of that word had been flung at her.
Unjust though it had been, it had sent her running all the same. She didn't want to fold again, but the graffiti stung. Who hated her this much?

Chilled from either the unresolved emotions she and Luc had aroused or the anonymous attack, she wrapped her arms around herself.

At her side now, Luc followed her gaze. "Don't let this get to you." He slipped his arm across her shoulders. "It's some dumb kid, Callie, that's all.
Some adolescent with a sick sense of humor."

"When was the last time you saw kids around here?" He remained silent. "Whoever did this knew you were here and used that fact to harass me, hoping to drive me out. Smashing windows didn't work.
Or wrecking the scaffolding.
Maybe they thought getting personal would."

"Will it?"

She shook her head. "Can you do anything to stop him?
Or her?"
She examined his face with narrowed eyes. Her mouth compressed into a thin line. "Do you want to?"

He looked her squarely in the eye. "I'll say it again — if I didn't want to help I wouldn't be here. I thought my presence would keep the culprit away. The storm handed us a bad break. Next time will be different."

"Maybe."
She rubbed her arms to get her circulation going. "It's cold. I'm going inside to change."

"I'll look around for anything that might help."

By the time Callie had dressed and come back down to the kitchen, Luc had returned with a plastic evidence bag containing one small object.

"Take a look."

She examined the bag beneath the ceiling fixture. "Is that the nozzle from a paint can?"

"I don't think we can get a print. It's too small, but if the color is the same, we can try for a match to the can our friend used."

"How does that help?"

"I'll check around, try to determine where it was bought and by whom."

"I want to come along."

He shook his head. "Not a good idea."

"Why?"

"People know me and will talk more freely without a stranger around."

"And you think the culprit will just give himself away because he feels comfortable with you?"

Luc arched one brow. "What I think is, the culprit, as you call him, is less likely to do so if the object of his harassment is stalking him. And with the right information, I have been known to solve a small riddle or two. It's what I do.
When I'm allowed to do my job."

"
I'm not doubting
your skill. I just want to be there. Is that so wrong?"

"What's wrong is you don't trust me." He massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He seemed to do that often, but her anger kept her from asking why.

"Just because I want to be a part of your investigation doesn't mean I don't trust you." Not totally true, she thought.

He stepped closer and looked deeply into her eyes. "Be honest. From the first, you thought I might be connected to the vandalism. That even if not directly involved, I might have looked the other way. To avoid biting the hand that feeds me."

"I won't deny it, but that was before."

"Before a double set of raging hormones became impossible to ignore? Before we both decided to put aside instinct, caution and common sense — everything that experience has taught us about getting in too deep." He went silent for a moment,
then
added, "I think that guy might have done us a favor."

The weariness in his voice and the stiffness of his stance put her on guard. The obvious disappointment shadowing his eyes confused her.
"Meaning?"

"We should thank him for interrupting us before we made a colossal mistake."

Her breath caught in her throat, wedged behind a knot of anger she could neither expel nor swallow. Her fingers curled into fists she had no choice but to jam into her pockets. How else could she stifle the urge to punch him in the mouth?

 
"You needn't concern yourself about either of us making a 'colossal mistake.' Or, heaven forbid, getting in too deep. I'm too smart and you...." She poked him in the chest. "You're too chicken."

She started up the stairs and turned briefly. "Don't let the door smack you in the butt on your way out, Señor Sheriff."

Luc closed the door quietly behind him, making sure no part of his anatomy got in the way as he stepped out onto the veranda. He sat on the top step watching the sky brighten with the coming day. This was getting to be a habit and a bad one at that.

He'd welcomed the vandal's intrusion because it had given him a chance to step back and take a deep breath, an impossible task when he was around the fair Ms. Patterson. Just as he seemed about to lose what little control he had, he'd forced her to bail him out by evoking her anger and wedging it between them.

Her words echoed in his head and churned in his gut. She was right about his cowardice, but not for the reasons she believed true. The episodes of blurred vision and headaches were coming more frequently. What if they didn't stop? Or got worse? If they were the advance guard of something even more serious, he would have nothing to offer Callie.

As long as his future lay in doubt, he could do nothing about the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. He’d put them there and would have to live with them. Sadly, so would she.

Alternating hot and cold showers had rescued Callie from a night without rest. Three cups of strong black coffee set her on her feet. Unfortunately, neither tactic provided enough incentive to make the ride into
Albuquerque
as she'd originally planned. Thank God Luc had left before she came downstairs. Facing him would have been too devastating.

Facing Nick and his workers wasn't much easier. Although the contractor had painted over the graffiti, the incident and the fact he and his men knew Luc had spent another night inside the house left her too uncomfortable to hang around. She hiked down to the Mercantile to pick up her mail.

Elvira was sweeping the worn plank floor and smiled as Callie stepped over the threshold.
"Got a package for you today."
She put aside the straw broom and retrieved a small box from behind the counter.

Stacked on top were several letters from friends in New York and her brother in Boston. The package had come from Gram's lawyer, Garrett Hobbs, and felt heavy enough to arouse her curiosity.

She glanced up at Elvira. "Do you have a letter opener?"

The woman nodded and pulled a flat-head screw driver from a pocket in her overalls. "
That do
?"

Callie grinned. "That'll do just fine."

She set the carton on the counter and slit the packing tape. Inside
lay
five small leather-bound books. She riffled the fragile onion skin pages of the top book.

"It's Grandmother's diary. She wrote in it nearly every day that I can remember." She checked the date of one entry,
then
looked at Elvira. "It goes back a long way."

"She kept a diary even when we were girls. I did, too. Only Hattie didn't have the patience. Or see the need."

Callie tucked the book and her letters inside the carton. "Guess what I'll be doing for the next few days."

Elvira pointed to the box in Callie's arms. "What a nice way to get in touch with your Grandma again."

Callie nodded and headed back to the house, using the kitchen entrance to avoid small talk and pleasantries on a day when she no desire for either.

She filled a Thermos™ and stuffed it into a backpack along with a sandwich, a disposable camera to take photos for the promotional campaign and a powerful flashlight she'd already stashed there for a nighttime excursion underground. Laying one of the books on top, she set out past the Golden Eye mine for the solitude waiting within the ruins of Blue Sky. Her perch on the edge of a stone wall gave her a panoramic view of the valley with its tumbledown remnants of buildings.