JAKrentz - Witchcraft (10 page)

She was escaping, he realized. Two days of constant, even if well-meant, attention from everyone in the household had finally taken their toll. He had watched her deal politely with Julia's eager hospitality, Scott's excited efforts to entertain and the invitations to Aunt
Milly's
zany afternoon tea-leaf reading activities with Ariel. In addition, everyone on the estate from Mrs. Lawson to the gardener had displayed unabashed interest in her. They all knew the role Kimberly had played in retrieving Scott from his ordeal. And they all thought they could guess the role she was destined to play in
Cavenaugh's
life.

Cavenaugh's
mouth hardened a bit at the edges as he followed her escape route. She was on the other side of the garden now, striding briskly toward the low, electronically wired rock wall that was supposed to be the farthest she could wander from the house without an escort. He had a grim feeling that she wasn't going to follow the rules today. She wanted some peace and quiet and privacy and she'd go beyond the rock wall to get it. Glancing down at the manuscript pages he had picked up from the desk in Kimberly's room a few minutes before,
Cavenaugh
skimmed over the lines of fast-paced dialogue and equally swift action.

Vendetta was undoubtedly going to be another highly successful novel in the Amy Solitaire series.
Cavenaugh
rather liked Amy. It was Josh Valerian he wanted to have dumped into one of the huge fermentation tanks over in the main production building. It was damn tough competing with a fictional "other man." Especially when that other man was probably Kimberly's secret fantasy. He was pondering Valerian's excellent timing, both in the matter of coming to Amy's rescue and in bed when Starke entered the room. "She's left the house, Dare."

"I know."

"Want me to go after her?"

"No, I'll go and get her. She's a little desperate at the moment."
Cavenaugh
turned away from the window and smiled bleakly at his friend. "I don't blame her. At times I know how she feels. Any leads on that business of the dagger?" Starke shook his iron-gray head. "I wish we had a better description of it. This whole thing keeps getting screwier by the minute. I have a couple of possibilities to check out, though. There aren't that many sources for handmade silver daggers in this part of California. It's beginning to look as though we may be dealing with a pack of real crazies."

"Scott's witches?"

"Yeah. The authorities aren't interested in that line of reasoning at all, however. Cranston prefers his own more straightforward theories. "We'll have to keep following this one on our own."
Cavenaugh
nodded. He and Starke were accustomed to doing things in their own way. "Have you got enough people working on it?"

"Three.

But they're all good," Starke assured him. "All right."
Cavenaugh
tossed down the manuscript pages he had been reading. "I'd better go bring back our wandering house guest." Starke eyed him thoughtfully. "You didn't stay with her last night."
Cavenaugh
glanced up sharply. "Your job is to keep an eye on this household, but that doesn't mean you have to turn into a voyeur!" Starke lifted one brow with mocking politeness.

"Sorry."

"About what?"
Cavenaugh
growled. "About overstepping the line between employer and employee," Starke said calmly.
Cavenaugh
swore grittily and ran a hand through his hair. "Don't give me that. You know very well you're hardly an employee." Starke relented. "I know.

Dare, you've been as tight as a compressed spring ever since you brought her here. The problem isn't that you're sleeping with her like everyone on the estate thinks' the problem is that you're not sleeping with her."

"Stick to worrying about witches and daggers, Starke. I can do without the psychiatric advice." Back in front of the window
Cavenaugh
watched Kimberly disappear from sight. Behind him he sensed Starke shrugging.

"Whatever you say, boss."

"Damn it to hell, Starke, what are you trying to do? Make me explode?"

"Not me. I've been with you on a couple of occasions when you've lost your temper. I'd rather you take it out on Kim. Something tells me she can handle it. Go release some of that tension with her. Since everyone on the place already assumes you've taken her to bed, you might as well go ahead and do it."
Cavenaugh
slanted his friend a violent glance. "Your theories on handling a woman like Kim leave me gasping in amazement." He scooped up the manuscript pages of Vendetta and shoved them across the desk. "Want to find out what women really want in a man? Here, read this."

"What's this?"

Curiously Starke picked up the pages and leafed through them. "Part of the book Kim's working on at the moment. Pay particular attention to Josh Valerian." Starke looked up. "Why?"

"Because he's Kimberly's ideal man." Starke grinned, one of his rare, wolfish grins. "I take it you don't fit the role of Josh Valerian?"

"Valerian enjoys total communication with the heroine,"
Cavenaugh
said dangerously. "He always seems to know what she's thinking, how she's feeling. What's more, he understands her thoughts and feelings perfectly."

"So? What's so tricky about that? You've always been good at reading other people. Don't you have a pretty fair idea of what Kim's thinking a lot of the time?"

"Yes.

Unfortunately, it doesn't do me a lot of good."
Cavenaugh
moved around his desk to grab his suede jacket. "Why not?"

"Because I don't always agree with or approve of what she thinks or the way she thinks." Starke gave him a mildly astonished look. "Why should you. You're a man.

She's a woman. How could you possibly react the same way to everything?"
Cavenaugh
smiled wryly as he pulled on the jacket. "You know, Starke, you have a way of going straight to the heart of the matter. You're absolutely right. Why should I worry about not being Josh Valerian? Kim's an adult female. She doesn't need some mystical other half of herself. She needs a man."

"You."

"Damn right."
Cavenaugh
paused as something crinkled in his jacket pocket. He removed the folded, buff-colored envelope from the L.A. law firm. "Valerian isn't the only obstacle in my path right now." He handed the envelope to Starke. "See what you can find out about this situation, will you?

I want to talk to one of those lawyers."

"You're going after Kim now?"

Starke accepted the envelope. "Thought I'd work off some of this excess tension you're complaining about,"
Cavenaugh
muttered, striding for the door. "By yelling at her or by taking her to bed?" At the door
Cavenaugh
turned, green eyes narrowed in a way Starke had learned to respect over the years. "I thought I'd try a little of each. See which method works best." "Probably the second one," Starke said quite seriously.
Cavenaugh
slammed the door of the study and stalked down the hall to the door that opened onto the garden.

CHAPTER FIVE.

The building was nothing more than a storage shed tucked into the base of a hillside full of vineyards. But standing isolated and out of sight of the main house, it made an inviting refuge. When Kimberly spotted the shed after passing the forbidden rock wall she made straight for it. The day was deceptively moderate, considering the season. She'd only taken a light jacket with her when she left the house and after a few minutes of walking through the vineyards she had removed that. Alone at last, she thought wryly, as she curiously plucked open the shed door and peered into the dark interior. She had realized this morning that if she didn't get away for a while she was liable to say or do something that would definitely border on the rude. And heaven knew she didn't really want to risk that. Although the
Cavenaugh
household was overwhelming, she liked its various and assorted members, even the perpetually visiting Ariel, who was constantly reading tea leaves, casting horoscopes or prescribing herb teas. She and Aunt
Milly
made quite a pair, Kimberly decided. Currently they had undertaken to plan a party. Julia was also involved, and when it looked as though they were all going to commandeer Kimberly, too, she had fled. She had finally reached a point where she needed to be alone for a while. It was pleasantly warm inside the shed. Leaving the door swinging open on its hinges, Kimberly idly poked around amid the odd tools, stacked boxes and assorted equipment. Sunlight trickled through the cracks and chinks in the old wooden walls, providing a fuzzy sort of light here and there.

Kimberly was examining an old leather harness, wondering what had happened to the horse who had worn it, when she became aware of a presence standing in the doorway behind her. She swung around abruptly,
Cavenaugh's
warning about not going beyond the rock wall slamming into her head. For an instant as she stared at the figure silhouetted against the sun she couldn't see who it was. A shaft of fear sizzled through her. And then he moved. "
Cavenaugh
! It's you." She smiled in relief. "You scared the daylights out of me." He remained where he was, dark and rather intimidating as he filled the doorway. He had his familiar suede jacket hooked negligently over his shoulder. Dressed in jeans and a blue work shirt he could have passed for one of his own employees except for the air of grim command that emanated from him.

"Let's see how good our nonverbal communication is, Kim," he suggested sardonically. "Why don't you try reading my mind?" Kimberly grimaced wryly. "Right now I can read you like an open book. You're angry because I disobeyed orders and went beyond the wall, aren't you? Going to yell at me?"

"I probably should. I didn't give those orders lightly, Kim. I gave them for your own protection."

"I know," she said, sighing.

She slowly hung the old harness back on a rusty nail. "You'll have to make allowances for me. I've never been very good at taking orders from people who thought they k new what was best for me. Go ahead and yell."

He stepped through the door, his face moving out of the shadows and into a ray of light streaming through a crack. Green eyes met hers with a flash of genuine understanding. "I have a feeling chewing you out wouldn't do a whole lot of good. Besides, I know why you disobeyed orders in the first place. And I guess that if I'm perfectly honest I can't say I blame you. It can get to be a bit much." She smiled weakly.

"Your family and your employees are all very nice,
Cavenaugh
."

"But they drive you crazy at times." She looked at him with gratitude. "I'm just not used to big families."

"You're not used to any kind of family, are you?"

"No, I suppose not. For a long time there was just mom and me and then there was just me."

"And you like it that way."

"It's been pleasant." "Lots of freedom," he observed, taking a step closer so that he could look directly down into her face. "Don't you think I know what that feels like? Not having to worry about anyone but yourself? Not having to solve everyone else's problems? Being free to come and go as you like? Not being on call for everyone from your sister to your aunt's nutty friends?" And suddenly Kimberly realized that she wasn't the only one who craved some time alone. Her stay in the household was only temporary.
Cavenaugh
, however, was trapped by the responsibilities he had undertaken. And being the man he was he would never walk away from them. "Ah,
Cavenaugh
," she whispered softly, lifting a hand to touch the side of his face. "I hadn't realized, hadn't understood how it was for you." Her amber eyes brimmed with comprehension and gentleness. "Kim," he muttered, letting the suede jacket slide to the dusty floor. "Kimberly, I ... " He bit off the words, reaching out to pull her into his arms with a rough hunger that seemed to explode out of nowhere. His sudden passion swamped her. Kimberly felt his arms close around her, his hands sweeping with aching longing over her body as his mouth captured hers. She parted her lips willingly when he demanded the intimacy. And when he cupped her hips, drawing her
jeaned
thighs against his own, she moaned softly. His body hardened violently as it encountered her gentle curves. Beneath the snug fabric of his clothing she could feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. The primitive knowledge thrilled Kimberly, filling her with a rush of heady desire.

She had been telling herself for the past three days that she didn't know this man well enough to even think of becoming involved with him.

What she did know about him seemed to indicate that he was all wrong for her, in any event. Yet this afternoon she had finally understood that they weren't so very different, after all.
Cavenaugh
had been trapped in a situation she'd always avoided, but that didn't mean his longings weren't the same as her own. He could never be really free the way she was, but she empathized totally with what his self-denial must have cost him. "Can you read my mind now, Kim?" he demanded huskily as he drew his mouth reluctantly away from her own. His palms slid up under her cotton knit shirt, finding the clasp of her bra. When it came free he groaned and let his fingers glide around her ribs until the fullness of her breasts rested on the edge of his hands. "You must know exactly what I'm thinking. I want you, Kim. I've been wanting you for two months. I need you."