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She pulled her hand back, looked away. Oh, no, she could not have this. He was a lost soul, just passing through. And she? She was even more lost than he was. No matter how her senses reacted to him, physical attraction did not equal a relationship. And even if it did, a relationship was the last thing she wanted.
“Shannon?” he said softly. “Tell me what happened.”
And because telling Tony’s story suddenly seemed easier than dealing with her own feelings, she did.
“It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot. Tony was very brave and capable. But his sense of responsibility for his fellow officers…” She gazed into the fire, remembering. “He was always first—the first to arrive, the first to volunteer.”
“The first to be wounded?”
She nodded. “I can’t count the times I had to go to the emergency room to pick him up.” Gashes, knife wounds, bullets. “Time after time, I’d tend Tony’s wounds. Time after time, he’d go back to the job.” Eagerly, happily, as soon as he could, she remembered bitterly. “Being a police officer was his life.”
“And in the end it was his death,” Caleb said quietly.
Shannon nodded.
“I don’t mean to be judgmental, but it sounds like he was reckless.”
She half laughed, feeling no humor. “Men are. Haven’t you noticed?”
Chapter Four
Caleb wanted to dispute it. He’d gotten his share of injuries, but he’d never rushed into the situations that had led to them. He’d gotten a reputation for knowing when to go and when to stay. It had saved his butt. It had saved his partners’ butts. But after the way he’d landed on her doorstep, why should Shannon believe him?
Besides, now that he’d started the lie, he had to stay with it. For his, and her, own good.
He looked over at her. She sat staring into the fire. Light danced on her face and shot red highlights through her tawny hair. He still couldn’t discern the color of her eyes, but he knew they didn’t see the fire that set her smooth skin aglow. No, her eyes were focused on the past. On a man who had made police work his life.
He tried to understand Officer Tony Garrett. It should have been easy. Caleb had been a dedicated officer of the law since he’d graduated from the Police Academy at the age of twenty-two. Twelve years later he looked back on a decorated career he was proud of. But he hadn’t had a loving wife waiting for him at home.
Shannon was a beautiful intelligent woman. Tony Garrett had been lucky to find her. How could the man keep putting himself in situations where in seconds he could lose everything?
Yet, knowing the kind of vicious criminals that plagued the world, Caleb thought a second later, how could he not? A real man, a real cop, couldn’t go home to his family knowing he hadn’t given his all to rid the streets of crime. It might be hard for the widow of a dead cop to understand, but…
Wanting very much to ease her pain, he reached out and touched her hand again.
She jumped as if she’d been burned, then got up to place another log on the fire.
“I hope you don’t regret telling me about your husband,” he said.
She shook her head and prodded the new log with the poker. “I moved here a couple of months after Tony died. Most of my communication is done over the computer or the telephone. I haven’t talked to anyone about Tony in years.”
Her delivery was so stoic that Caleb felt an urge to give her a shake. “I understand that becoming a widow at such a young age must have been hard on you, but don’t you think three years is long enough to live as a recluse?”
She turned on him, poker still in hand. “You know nothing about me or why I choose to live the way I live, so keep your opinions to yourself.”
Caleb immediately apologized. “You’re right. Our acquaintance is too short for me to make such a judgment,” he said formally. But he couldn’t help thinking that he had hit a raw nerve. Was it possible the ice Shannon had encased herself in was thawing? It seemed to him that her fiery reply could only mean one thing. Shannon Garrett was returning to the land of the living—and fighting it every step of the way.
She returned the poker to its rack. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed. I’ve been working since six this morning. Since I’ll be sleeping on the couch, you’ll have to go back to the bedroom.”
The coldness of her request caused an equal and opposite reaction in Caleb’s lower regions. He looked at Shannon, who stood stiffly, her head tossed back as if ready for a fight.
“I know it’s still fairly early,” she added. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Caleb bit back a laugh. The words may have been polite, but the tone told him she didn’t give a damn whether he minded or not. How could a once-married woman not realize what a challenge a haughty woman presented to a man?
As much as he wanted to stay in the same room with her, if she kept looking at him like a prickly princess, with him in his weakened condition, he didn’t know if he could trust himself to keep from kissing the frown off her face. He wrapped the quilt around himself and stood. “It doesn’t seem fair for you to sleep on the damp couch.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Not sleeping on a damp couch,” he insisted. “Look, I could sleep on the floor. Or we could share the bed.”
The look she gave him could have felled a tree. “I don’t think so.”
The line of her thought came through loud and clear, irritating the hell out of him. “I’m not in any shape to attack you.”
“Go to bed, Caleb.”
Since nothing he said seemed to convince her, he decided to give in gracefully. “Good night, Shannon, and thanks again.”
He took a step. His bad ankle gave out on him and he lost his balance.
“Watch out!” Shannon exclaimed, moving to catch him.
His hand caught hers, and they both went down on the floor in a tangle. Though the patterned area rug cushioned the fall to some extent, pain rocketed through him.
“Caleb! Are you all right?”
Registering the concern in her voice, Caleb opened his eyes and looked straight into the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. They reminded him of a forest at sunset, when the trees cast dark-green shadows and the sun dappled the forest floor with gold. He gazed into them, knowing if he looked long enough, he could uncover the secrets hidden in their mysterious depths.
“Caleb? Did you hurt yourself?” Shannon ran her hands along his bare torso, skimming over his chest and his ribs, as if looking for injury.
The touch of her hands on his body caused sensations he knew a man in his condition shouldn’t be feeling. He took a deep breath, trying to slow the hot blood that raced through his veins.
It didn’t work.
The quilt had been torn away when he fell, and the soft denim of her jeans rubbed against his lower body, causing an erotic friction that lit a fire in his loins. A man would have to be made of stone to ignore the luscious curves pressed against him, the warm breath mixing with his, the lush lips close enough to kiss.
“Would you please say something?” she prodded.
The exasperated plea got his attention. He smiled wryly. “You’re going to have to get off me,” he said, though he’d never wanted anything less in his life.
She flushed, then pushed herself up till she stood above him. Her eyes widened and she swung around so her back was to him. “I thought you were in shock,” she accused.
He was, he thought. In shock because he wanted a woman—one he hadn’t known even existed until a couple of hours ago—so much that he’d forgotten his injuries and his circumstances. He suspected Shannon Garrett could make him forget his own name.
“Caleb? Did you want some help up or should I just make you a bed on the floor?”
Caleb grabbed the quilt and wrapped it around his hips, wondering what she’d do if he took her up on her somewhat provocative offer. With regret he held out his hand. “You can turn around now.”
She pulled him up but wouldn’t quite look at him. “I think I can scare up some sweats that might fit you.” She turned and walked to the bedroom.
He followed at a slower speed, favoring his left ankle. Entering the room, he found Shannon bent over, digging through the bottom drawer of a large oak dresser, presenting him with the sight of her denim-clad, nicely rounded backside. He groaned inwardly.
She stood up and turned to face him before he could hide his expression. She shot a glare at him that should have disintegrated him on the spot and tossed a pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt onto the bed. “Here, these should fit you.”
The worn but clean outfit boasted a San José State logo and certainly looked big enough for him. But he didn’t really like the idea of dressing in another man’s clothes. She’d already tarred him with the same brush as her reckless husband. The fact that she still had the clothes three years later surprised him.
He looked at her and saw she’d been studying him.
“Those aren’t Tony’s,” she said quietly. “They belonged to my father. He was a professor at San José State for thirty-five years. He and my mother retired to Northern California last year.”
He didn’t know whether to be relieved or not by the information. On the one hand he was glad they hadn’t belonged to her husband. But if they had, and she’d offered them, then it would have shown she was ready to move on with her life.
Whoa! Stop right there, he ordered himself. What difference did it make to him if a woman he hardly knew got over her dead husband? As soon as he could, he was out of here. He had to find Brandon and make sure the Driscoe operation was shut down.
“I’ll let you get changed. Good night,” Shannon said, turning to leave.
He caught her arm as she passed. “Wait.”
Despite her thick sweater, Caleb felt the heat of her body and smelled the subtle fragrance of her skin. There was something about this woman that called to him. Something that made her achingly familiar, instead of the stranger she was.
A gust of wind sent rain clattering against the windows.
Shannon’s gaze skittered away from his, focusing on the dark square framing the black night. “Storm’s picking up again.”
She could say that again, he thought wryly. “Shannon.”
Eyes shadowed by thick dark lashes gazed warily up at his face. “Is there something else you need?”
You. The answer was so definite in his mind it shocked him. How could that be, when he barely knew her? How could he need a stranger?
He looked at her face, so beautiful, so wary, so unwilling to trust. And who could blame her? He might not have the same reckless bent as her husband, but he did have a job to do. The Driscoe brothers had been showering cocaine on the local kids like it was snow. They were vicious dangerous criminals. And he wasn’t going to stop until they were in prison.
“Caleb? Are you all right? Is your head hurting again?”
“A little,” Caleb said, though the pounding seemed relentless. She’d done enough for him. “Nothing that a bit of sleep won’t cure.”
“I’ll just get some things, then you can go to bed. But only for a while. If you do have a concussion—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he told her. He really had to get her out of there. “I’ve had concussions before. This was just a little knock on the head.”
She didn’t look convinced. She walked over to the closet and grabbed a nightgown and robe off a hook. Then she paused at the door. “Well, good night, then.” Her voice was a little husky. She cleared her throat. “I put a jug of water in the bathroom, since the pump’s not working right now. You’ll find towels in the cabinet over the toilet and a new toothbrush in the one over the sink. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks,” he told her. “Good night.”
He waited until she left the room, then sat down on the bed, feeling every ache and pain…unable to deny that the biggest ache was for Shannon.
It was going to be a long night.
THE CLOCK CHIMED twelve times. Lying on the couch, Shannon counted every one. Just as she’d done at nine, ten and eleven. She twisted to lie on her side, facing the fireplace. Behind the screen, the flames licked at the log she’d added thirty minutes before. She closed her eyes and willed herself to relax, but she couldn’t get her guest out of her mind.
She told herself she was foolish. He was a stranger. She knew nothing about him, except what he’d told her. Lies. She was sure of it, though she couldn’t figure out why he’d thought lying was necessary. What could a man like Caleb have to hide?
Hurt, bleeding, in pain, he’d trudged through a landslide and a rainstorm to land on her doorstep. Bandaged, yet still in pain, he’d insisted on leaving. To find his friend, he’d said. Because he’d had no choice but to stay, he’d settled down to lend her a sympathetic ear.
Shannon thought about Caleb’s concern for his friend. More than once during the evening he’d looked out the window at the unceasing rain, his frustration apparent. She felt bad about having to refuse him transportation. And she didn’t like the idea of leaving some poor man out there exposed to the elements. She prayed he’d found refuge like Caleb.
Caleb. What was it about him that drew her to him? Not just his looks, although those were exceptional. Not just his touch, although her skin had tingled when he’d touched her and her breasts had ached when they’d been pressed against his chest. Not his dimple, although it showed an impish sense of humor in his otherwise hard face.
Shannon opened her eyes to stare at the fire, and saw in the flames images of Caleb’s face. What was it about him that made his face so difficult to forget? Something in those beautiful blue eyes…Warmth? Empathy? She didn’t know if it was one thing or many. She only knew there was something about him.
Something you have to forget, Shannon. You don’t need another man who’ll lie to you, for whatever reason. You had enough of that with Tony.
Not for the first time Shannon wondered if maybe Tony’s job would have been easier for her to accept if she’d known more about it. Instead, he’d made up stories to keep her from worrying. Tony had been adamant about not bringing his work home with him. After a while he’d hardly brought himself home.
Shannon turned onto her back. An image of Caleb, half-dressed, sitting on this very couch intruded on her thoughts. She groaned and covered her eyes with her hands.
How stupid can you be, Shannon Garrett? Caleb Joseph is a stranger. You’d be nuts to let yourself get involved with him.
She turned to stare again into the dancing flames. “You’d be nuts,” she whispered.
Because tomorrow or the next day or the next, Caleb would be gone. And it wouldn’t matter at all that she wished he could stay.
“BRANDON, NO!”
A vehement cry startled Shannon out of a light sleep.
“Dammit, Brandon, answer me!”
Caleb, she realized. He must be having a nightmare. She pushed back the quilt and swung her feet to the floor. The clock over the mantel chimed two. She’d checked him about an hour before, and he’d been sleeping peacefully.
She got up and padded on bare feet into the bedroom. Caleb had kicked off the covers and was thrashing around on the bed, moaning. Her heart went out to him. It was obvious his ordeal hadn’t just been physical.
She went over to the side of the bed and spoke to him quietly. “Wake up, Caleb.”
Gently she touched his left arm, but he grabbed her hand, staring at her with unseeing eyes. “Where’s Brandon? I can’t find him.” The anguish on his face was a testimony to the closeness he shared with the man, whoever he was.
Suddenly he sat bolt upright. “I’ve got to go find Brandon.”
Shannon pushed him firmly back on the bed. “You’re not going anywhere.”
He didn’t fight her, just lay back against the pillows, eyes closed, murmuring. “Brandon…have to find Brandon. I left him…should have stayed.”
She touched his forehead, smoothing back his hair in a gentle rhythm. “Quiet now, Caleb. You need to rest. Someone will find your friend. You’ll see, he’ll be safe and sound.” At least she hoped he would. Caleb already hated himself for leaving his friend alone. She could tell him he’d had no choice and he’d done the right thing until she was blue in the face. If something terrible had happened to his friend, she suspected Caleb would never forgive himself.
When he seemed to be sleeping again, Shannon covered him, then backed away from the bed. Careful not to make any noise, she perched on her overstuffed chair and watched him.
Though his breathing came evenly, his expression still showed its earlier distress. The scratches on his face showed no signs of infection, nor did the larger cut at his hairline. The lump on his forehead had started to color, promising to be multihued by morning.
