Harlequin Superromance January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Everywhere She Goes\A Promise for the Baby\That Summer at the Shore (12 page)

Not five minutes later, her brother's 4Runner barreled to a stop on the verge of the road, and he strode down to join them, his gaze pinned on his sister.

Who now stood a safe distance from Noah, hugging herself in the way she did when she was upset and feeling vulnerable. Although Noah suspected she wouldn't like knowing how much she was giving away. She had recited her story again, in better order this time, and was now trying to answer questions.

The two young officers turned, their expressions pathetically grateful when they saw the new arrival. “Captain.”

He spared them a fleeting glance, nodded, then let his gaze pass coldly over Noah before returning his attention to Cait.

“You're all right.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “A few scrapes and bruises. The worst damage is to my wardrobe.”

Something dark rose in his eyes that Noah recognized and felt. Colin stood in front of her, his hands lifting and then falling back to his sides as if he believed an embrace would be unwelcome.

But tears welled in her eyes and she stepped forward, just for an instant leaning her forehead against his shoulder. His arms closed around her, and Noah had to turn away, not sure what he felt but not liking it.

This tumult couldn't be jealousy. Why would it be? This was her brother. He should be—was—glad that she was letting herself need him.

Noah had already held her. Stupidly, suicidally close. If he had half a brain, this was a good time for him to say,
I'll leave you in your brother's hands,
and depart.

Anguish coalesced in his chest. No way in hell was he going anywhere without her. Even if the actual intention had formed, he wouldn't have been able to act on it when he saw her straighten and turn her head quickly until her gaze latched on to his, as if she needed to know he was there. Noah had no idea what his face showed her, but she relaxed as if it was what she was looking for.

I am in deep shit,
he thought, and he couldn't seem to do a damn thing to get himself out of it.

Her brother joined the grilling, but Cait kept shaking her head. She didn't even know how she'd seen the weapon. She wasn't positive she
had.
Something in her subconscious had triggered the leap of panic; that's all she knew. But she was sure she hadn't seen her assailant's face. Or even enough of the set of his shoulders or his hand or silhouette to recognize her ex-boyfriend.

“I don't know,” she said doubtfully, and about the third time she repeated the same thing Noah began to get a bad feeling about it.

She'd been with this guy for a couple of years. Noah wasn't clear on how long she'd actually lived with him, but long enough. Someone she'd been that intimate with, she would know on a different level than she would anyone else. The very fact that she was having trouble fitting him into the frame where they all thought he belonged triggered alarms.

Why would anyone else have come after her?

She was a woman alone out there. An attempted rape or robbery might have made sense. But this guy—or conceivably even woman, he supposed—hadn't even stepped out of the vehicle. It had essentially been an assassination attempt by someone who didn't want to take a chance of being recognized if he failed.

No, damn it! Who else could it be but Ralston?
He
made sense.

Noah scrubbed a hand over his face, struggling for the self-control that rarely failed him.

“Let me drive you home,” he heard her brother say.

At that, Noah stepped forward. “Why don't you let me do that. You'll want to stay while your people investigate.”

McAllister's internal battle was obvious, but finally he gave a short, unhappy nod. “That might be better. Cait—”

“No, that's fine.” She summoned a smile for him. “Thank you for coming running.” Her voice wavered. “You always have when I needed you.”

Her brother's face softened. With one arm, he caught her close again for a quick hug. “You're my sister,” he murmured.

She nodded, bumping his chin.

When the two of them separated, Noah asked if there was anything she needed out of the car. Colin gave permission for her to take that huge bag she carried around, a cross between a purse and a briefcase, Noah guessed. She grabbed her yellow high heels, too, from the floor behind the seats.

“You will find the bullets?” Noah asked Colin, who gave him a sardonic look.

“You think I have no idea what I'm doing? And I wondered why you blocked my hiring.”

Damn.
Noah checked to be sure neither of the two young officers had heard the exchange.

“That's not what I meant.”

Colin turned away without a word and strode over to talk to one of the two young officers. Noah realized Cait had heard the exchange and was looking after her brother anxiously.

Making Noah the bad guy.

To hell with it. Without asking for permission, he lifted the bag away from her and slung it over his own shoulder, then took hold of her elbow to support her as they hiked up the incline to his Suburban. It stood unlocked. After opening the passenger door, he put his hands around her waist and lifted as she scrambled up. Normally she'd probably have kicked him for the unwanted help, but today she gave him a shaky smile of thanks that made him wonder if he'd misinterpreted that last expression.

God.

He was the one shaken to his foundation.
If I hadn't followed her.
It ran on a loop.
She'd be dead.

She'd told a couple of people of her intention to drive out there, but the afternoon had been far enough advanced no one expected her back at the office. Living alone as she was insisting on doing, there wouldn't have been anyone to miss her when she didn't show up. What little passing traffic there was out there, what were the odds anyone would have glanced down and wondered about the small car seemingly abandoned on the dirt road? Reality: she wouldn't have been missed until midmorning tomorrow at the soonest.

If one of those first shots had hit her, he couldn't help thinking, her body might have been lying in plain sight. Then a passing motorist
would
have noticed.

That image made him so sick, angry and frustrated, he ground his teeth together and took a minute to get a grip before he opened his door, deposited her bag behind the seat and got in. Even then, he couldn't look at her.

She squeezed her hands together on her lap and didn't say anything as he backed out, raising a cloud of red dust. During the short drive to town, Cait mostly had her head turned so she could look out the side window.

He went straight to her town house even though he hoped she'd see sense now and move back in with her brother. He parked in front and opened his door.

“You don't have to come in,” she began.

She thought he'd drop her off at the curb and drive away.
Nice.

Once again, he grabbed her bag and circled to her side. She'd already opened the door but was bending to pick up the heels from the floor. The ones that went with the ruined suit. The reminder darkened his already roiling mood.

Still, his hands were gentle as he helped her down. When he saw a wince, he said, “You're going to have bruises.”

She made a face, her eyes not quite meeting his. “I guess so. My knees don't feel so good. And my hands sting.”

Noah frowned. “Maybe we should have gone by the E.R.”

“Don't be silly. I need a hot shower and a couple of ice packs. Or maybe I'll go straight for the wine.”

He was probably supposed to laugh. His sense of humor was MIA.

He kept his hand cupped under her elbow as they made their slow way to the front door. After rooting in the gigantic bag, which he swore weighed twenty-five pounds, she produced keys and unlocked the door.

He stepped in first and was met with silence. And furniture. By God, the moving truck had come and gone. She now had a simple entertainment center with flat-screen TV and modest stereo system, a coffee table and a big upholstered rocker with a flowery print in her favorite yellows and pinks. Dining room table and chairs.

“I'll walk through,” he said.

She bit her lip and nodded.

The tour didn't take long. Nothing had been smashed or slashed. Upstairs the smaller room now had a desk with a printer, presumably for her laptop, a pair of tall bookcases and a pile of unpacked boxes. Two cherrywood dressers had been added to the bedroom along with a free-standing full-length mirror. He even glanced in the bathroom, although he was sorry right away. He felt about a woman's clutter the way a man from another century might have about the sight of a woman letting down her hair. It was too personal.

Sexual.

He backed out quickly and returned downstairs to find she had waited barely inside the door. She was once again wringing her hands together. She took in his face and then looked away. She hadn't wanted to meet his eyes since that kiss, Noah belatedly realized.

He had blown it.

“All clear,” he reported. “I even glanced outside in back. Not so much as a note.”

“Oh, okay. Time for that shower, then.” She pinned on a smile. “Thank you. I mean it.”

He nodded. “I'll stay at least until you're out of the shower.” Kill him though it might, hearing the water run and knowing she was standing under it naked. Tipping her head back, maybe, eyes closed, letting that water stream over her breasts and belly and down her thighs.

He could see that he'd alarmed her. Because of the offer, or because he'd given away thoughts that were dangerously carnal?

“Oh, you don't need—”

“I do,” he said grimly. “With the shower running, you wouldn't hear someone kicking in your door.”

Her face got pinched. Finally she gave a small nod. “All right. Thank you. If you want to grab a beer or anything—”

“Go.” That probably sounded grim, too. He wanted to grab her again, go sit on the sofa with her on his lap and just hold her.

Or maybe more.

Cait nodded again, backing away until she bumped into the wall beside the stairs. Then she fled, leaving those sexy high heels sitting on a dainty table to the right of the front door.

Noah waited until he heard her bedroom door shut. Then he groaned, turned and flattened his hands on the wall.

He did not understand why he was giving in to this inexplicable need to take care of Cait McAllister. Who
had
family. Who didn't need him, even though sometimes she looked at him as if she did.

Time to back off,
he told himself. Before it was too late.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“A
REFILL
?” Like a polite waitress, Nell lifted the coffee carafe.

“Thank you, no.” Even the toasted bagel Cait had eaten for breakfast wasn't sitting well in her stomach. This freezing civility with her sister-in-law was all she needed. Cait would have been mad, except she was to blame. Of course.

What choice had she had but to move back in with Colin?

The plan was for her to move temporarily into the apartment above his garage, but last night she'd slept in the guest room again.

He appeared now through the kitchen, still adjusting the knot of his tie. Nell's face softened when she saw him, and his smile for her was tender and something more that filled Cait with...oh, not envy, she
wanted
him to be happy, but a sense of her own loneliness, she supposed.

He kissed his wife, then glanced at Cait, expression guarded as it always was these days. “You about ready to go?”

Her poor car, fenders barely smoothed out, now needed three windows replaced. “I'm sorry you're stuck driving me,” she said.

Her brother's jaw squared. “I don't mind.”

Of course.
She forced a smile. “Give me a second. Nell, thanks for breakfast.”

“You're welcome.”

She heard low voices while she hurried to the guest room to slip on her jacket and shoes. She had that shame-filled feeling they were talking about her, but she knew how self-centered that was.

She tried to hurry but was moving stiffly this morning. Her knees sported big purple bruises and her legs didn't want to swing with their usual ease. Her palms were scraped, and she had ruined her fingernails scrabbling in the dirt. She'd chosen trousers rather than a skirt, but there wasn't much she could do to hide her hands beyond discreetly tucking them out of sight as much as possible.

“Have a good day,” Nell said as Colin and Cait went out the door. He wore a sappy smile until he saw Cait looking at him; then he wiped it out of existence.

And
that
made her feel crummy.

He backed out of the garage before she got into his SUV. At the end of the driveway, Colin had to wait for a couple of oncoming cars.

“I lived alone for a lot of years,” he said suddenly.

“What?” She turned her head.

He frowned. “Having somebody kiss me goodbye and be happy to see me when I get home, that means something.”

She got a lump in her throat. “I understand. You're...lucky. Nell's great.”

She felt his scrutiny, but now she couldn't look at him. He nodded. They drove a distance in silence before Cait spoke.

“I can tell Nell really loves you. She, um, gave me hell for hurting you.”

Her brother slanted a glance at her. “Did she?”

“She didn't tell you?”

“No.”

“I was having lunch at the Subway right by the Safeway store. Evidently, she saw my car. She marched in, reamed me and marched out.” Now Cait was smiling.

Colin chuckled but then returned to brooding silence. Not until he pulled into an unload zone in front of city hall did he say, “Cait...”

She unfastened the seat belt and leaned over to kiss his angular cheek. “No. This is my fault. I hope—” her breath hitched “—that I can earn your trust again. Nell's, too.” She fumbled for the door handle and got it opened. “Thanks for the lift. I'll call you later.”

She got out without looking to see how he responded. He was driving away before she entered the building.

As Cait stepped off the elevator on her floor, she saw Noah standing in the hall, carrying on a conversation with someone from the city clerk's office, which happened to be right across from Planning. A couple of inches over six feet and even broader in the shoulders than her brother, Noah stood out amid the morning bustle. But she knew her instant awareness of him had nothing to do with his size. There was the kiss, which seemed to be haunting her. But even aside from that, it was just him; those laser-sharp blue eyes, rumpled dark hair, the quick way he had of turning his head to home in on her. Yes, even the sense that he looked wrong in the handsome charcoal suit, white shirt and red tie.

She wondered suddenly if he'd ruined his suit pants yesterday when he'd knelt in the dirt to hold her.

Even as he seemed to make a couple of points, nod and listen, he watched her approach. And, gee, what a surprise, he managed to wind up that discussion at precisely the moment she came abreast of him.

“Cait.”

“Good morning, Noah.” She turned into the outer office, said hello to several people and resigned herself to the fact that he was right behind her when she went into her own office. “Did you want something?” she asked politely as she lowered her messenger bag to the floor behind the desk and pulled out her chair.

He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “How are you?”

Terrified, what did he think? But she was astonished at how many other answers she could have given him.

She was childishly resentful because the independence she was trying so hard to claim was being stolen from her. Miserable because maybe things going wrong with Blake
had
been her fault. Look how she'd screwed up her relationship with Colin. And scared in a different way because she wanted Noah to put his arms around her again. She wanted to lean on him. She wanted to go home with him instead of her brother. She wanted him to kiss her again.

“Surviving,” she said. “A little stiff today.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, if anything intensifying the keen way he assessed her. “You stayed at your brother's last night.”

“Yes.” She planted her fists on her hips. “You thought I was dumb enough to say no?”

“
Dumb
isn't the word I would have used.”

“What is?” She still sounded almost polite. “Suicidal?”

“
Bullheaded
crossed my mind.”

A sound escaped her lips she didn't think she'd ever heard before. Had she
growled?

Noah's eyebrows climbed. “What? You're the woman who insisted on staying alone in her house after a maniac spray-painted messages all over the outside!” His voice had climbed, too.

Get a grip.

“You've uplifted my morning enough, thank you. If you're not here to discuss city business, can we end this conversation?”

“Yeah. We can do that.” Now he was gruff, his face impassive. “Don't go out by yourself. That's an order.”

“And here I'd planned a hike in the woods all by myself on my lunch hour.”

His last look at her smoldered.

Left alone, she sank into her chair. Oh, God, why was she antagonizing the man who came to her rescue every time she needed him?

Because
that
scares me.

When had she turned into this pathetic creature who stumbled from one domineering man to another?

Fortunately, her day didn't require any field trips. She concentrated on educating herself, studying tax records for a better understanding of how particular neighborhoods compared, how mixed-use the new development had been. Scrutinizing the building permits that had been issued in the past year, she found herself acquiring new sympathy for Michael Kalitovic's point of view. No house she would call even remotely affordable was being built. Supposedly, central Oregon was appealing to new retirees who could take advantage of the natural beauty and abundant recreational opportunities while living more affordably than they could in the Portland area, say. If so, they wouldn't be buying in Angel Butte. Most of the developments were aimed at people with real money or were intended to be vacation homes—again, for the wealthy who might spend only a few weeks or months there a year, for the skiing or fishing. Cait imagined Angel Butte as a giant ghost town for much of the year, with hundreds of huge empty houses while the people who clerked at Walmart and Safeway, cleaned the rooms at the increasing number of resorts, waitressed at Chandler's Brew Pub, all had to commute from...who knew, La Pine or farther.

Of course she was getting carried away and knew it. The already existing homes in the older parts of town tended to be modest. Heaven knew the three-bedroom, one-bath rambler she and Colin had grown up in was.

She had so far been very careful not to turn down that street even when she was in the neighborhood. She'd have to ask Colin if he ever drove by out of curiosity.

Cait grimaced. Okay, maybe not such a good idea. Raising the subject of those tumultuous years wouldn't exactly help smooth their existing relationship.

She ordered lunch in, relieved when Noah didn't appear, although she hadn't really expected him to. He'd looked pretty mad when he'd left that morning. Besides, there had to already be talk about the two of them. He'd spent more time with her than was wise. Plus, once yesterday's police reports became common knowledge, city hall workers might speculate as to why he had followed her out to Bond Road.

Come to think of it, she hadn't thought to ask why he had.

Did it matter? He'd been there when she'd needed him. He had been exactly what she needed.

Yes, I am officially pathetic,
she decided.

At four-thirty, she dutifully placed a call to Colin and learned her poor car had now been towed to an auto body shop. It would be ready as soon as tomorrow afternoon. Aside from the windows, the only damage had been to the wheel, bent after the tire blew. She and Colin agreed on a time for him to pick her up.

Cait was aware of a sickening wash of fear when she realized it didn't really matter whether she had her car back or not. She wouldn't dare drive unless Colin was right behind her in his SUV.

But sooner or later, they'd find Blake. How good could he be at hiding? He was a water systems engineer, for Pete's sake, a regular guy, except for his weird obsession for her. Once he was arrested, she'd have her life back. She could declare her independence again.

But, remembering the terrifying moments of crawling behind her car, imagining the gunman walking down the hill toward her, knowing there was nowhere she could run to, Cait had a feeling real confidence was going to be slow returning.

* * *

N
OAH
TRIED
NOT
to look at Cait when he didn't have to. He hated seeing the strain on her face, those lines of tension growing more visible as days passed.

Finding the goddamn bullets had turned out to be the proverbial hunt through the haystack. Cait remembered four being fired. One had ripped through her left rear tire. One went straight through her car, leaving those two ugly holes. A third dissolved the glass in the driver's-side door. The fourth had either also gone through that window or missed entirely. Colin had people out combing the woods with, by day four, no success.

Blake Ralston had called the firm he worked for to extend his vacation. If he was staying at any hotel or resort in the surrounding three counties, it wasn't under his own name. He hadn't used a credit or debit card—but he hadn't needed to, the detective heading the hunt for him had determined. He'd taken three thousand dollars out of a savings account the day before he'd begun his “vacation.”

During one of Noah's brief encounters with Cait, he had asked where she was staying. Still in her brother's guest room, she'd said. Colin hadn't been comfortable with her moving alone into the garage apartment. He'd rather have her closer.

She was fine, she said, but it didn't take any great insight to see that she wasn't.

Noah kept his distance anyway. If he didn't, he'd find himself somewhere he'd never intended to go. Cait McAllister, astonishingly strong, stubborn, scared, fragile and lonely all at the same time, was even more dangerous to him than he'd understood when he'd hired her. He already felt too much.

It would go away, he told himself when he saw her down the hall or across a conference room table. It had to.

He'd been getting a hell of a lot done on his house. Visiting his restaurants, harassing managers or poring over business financials after a day spent doing the same over city income and output didn't work as an outlet for his raging physical restlessness. Steaming wallpaper off walls worked; stripping varnish from woodwork was better. Ripping out a wall was best of all. But none of it helped him sleep.

Noah was not amused to realize he was as obsessed with Cait as that son of a bitch Blake Ralston was. So what did that make him?

He knew her brother had escorted her to the one evening meeting she hadn't been able to skip out of that week. She had set it a while ago, calling for public input on a projected rezoning of a slice of the annexed territory. If she'd asked, Noah would have gone with her instead. His presence wouldn't have excited comment. But even knowing she had to attend, he hadn't offered.

Friday night, he decided to walk over to Chandler's and grab a bite before he went home. He shared the elevator down to the lobby with half a dozen other people, all of whom seemed to be in a good mood because they'd be off until Monday. Him? His gut was balled in a knot because for the next two days he wouldn't catch even a glimpse of his director of community development.

Except he did. He stopped dead after exiting the elevator, because there she was by the glass doors, hovering just inside, looking out.

Waiting for her brother, he realized. Either she'd been ordered not to go outside until Colin pulled up or she was afraid.

Noah's feet were moving before his brain caught up. He stopped right beside her. “Call your brother. Tell him I'm taking you out to dinner and I'll bring you home later.”

She stared up at him with those beautiful eyes that seemed perpetually darkened these days.

“He should be here any minute.”

“Call him anyway.”

After a moment, she gave a small nod and drew her phone from her bag. She kept looking at him as she talked to her brother.