Suspicions: A Twist of Fate\Tears of Pride (13 page)

“Kane,” Erin implored. “Why are you so upset? What…”

“Look, Erin. We’ve played the game your way for nearly two weeks, and it’s tearing me apart!” His entire body tensed for a second before he took in a long steadying breath and controlled the note of rage that had entered his speech. In a softer voice he continued, “Let’s have an entire weekend alone together—what do you say?”

“I don’t understand…”

“Let’s go somewhere where we can walk in the sunlight together—where we can be seen kissing….”

“Is this what’s been bothering you?” she asked, as she put a staying hand on his sleeve.

“Oh, Erin,” he sighed, holding her at arm’s length and letting his eyes search her face. “There are so many things that are bothering me,” he admitted, and a tortured look twisted his features.

“Can we talk about them?” she asked quietly.

“That’s exactly what I have in mind. But I thought a change of scenery might do us both some good.”

“You know that I can’t leave at the drop of a hat.”

“Why not?”

“My tenants…I’ve got an advertisement in the paper to rent the apartment downstairs.”

“The apartment on the first floor, across the hall from Milly?” he asked.

“That’s the one—how did you get on a first-name basis with Mrs. Cavenaugh?” Erin asked, a suspicious black eyebrow arching heavenward.

“That little old lady has excellent taste,” he laughed. “She likes me.”

“And she told you about the vacant apartment?” Erin guessed.

“That’s right,” he agreed with a smile that any Cheshire cat would envy.

“Then you understand why I have to stay here…”

“Don’t worry about the apartment,” he said dismissively. “I’ll rent it until I find a more permanent residence. Does it have two bedrooms?”

“Of course, but—”

“Then it will be perfect!” he exclaimed.

“Perfect? For what?”

“Krista and myself.”

“I don’t know…”

His eyes grew dark. “It’s the perfect solution to our problem.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I didn’t know that we had a problem,” she returned, and began to place her undergarments in the open suitcase on the bed. Was he actually going to tell her what had been bothering him, why he had been so wary of her?

He came up behind her and let his arms encircle her waist. His words fanned her hair and the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. He captured the black silk and entwined it in his fingers. Burying his face in her hair, he groaned. “The problem is that I want to be near you…always!” The confession was a tortured, unwanted admission.

“What are you saying?” she asked, and a tightness constricted her breath.

“I want to live with you!”

Her voice was unsteady. “And what about Krista? What would she think about her father and his business associate living together? What kind of example would we set? No, Kane…” She shook her head sadly. “It wouldn’t work!”

“Lots of people…”

“I’m not ‘lots of people,’” she interrupted.

“So I noticed,” he agreed, and his hands slowly kneaded the softness of her abdomen. Warm curling sensations grew to life within her. Slowly he stopped his seductive movements. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m pushing you too quickly. Let’s forget the entire suggestion—for the time being. But, please come and spend the weekend with me…”

Pulling herself away from him, she planted a fist firmly against her hip and forced back a smile that flirted with her lips. “I’ll come with you—on one condition!”

Kane crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the dresser. The sweater strained across his shoulders. “Okay. I’m game. What’s the condition?”

“That for once you tell me where you plan on taking me!”

“Spoilsport!”

“Kane!”

“Where’s that girl who loves mystery and old movies?” he inquired, a twinkle coming to his eyes.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Not unless you think of some wildly erotic torture that will force me into submission.”

“Dreamer,” she shot back at him, before turning to pack.

* * *

The small motorboat churned through the cold gray waters of Puget Sound and out toward the Pacific Ocean. When Erin had stepped into the tiny vessel, she had guessed that Kane was taking her to San Juan Island, but he had preferred to keep the destination and his secret to himself. Now, as the frigid salt spray tickled her nose and clung to her hair, she was grateful that she had had the foresight to bring her down jacket with her. She drew the warm collar closer to her neck in an effort to keep the moisture-laden air off her skin.

By the time they reached Orcas Island the sun had set, and only a long orange glow remained along the horizon. Night was closing in, and the lights of Deer Harbor winked like silvery diamonds against the black island as the launch continued on its journey around the small piece of land.

Erin rubbed her hands together, and then pushed them deep into her pockets in an effort to warm herself. At that moment the rhythmic rumble of the small craft’s engine slowed, and Kane maneuvered the boat inland. It was difficult to see clearly in the evening light, but Erin made out a small cove with a relatively private beach and a ramshackle cabin.

Kane cut the engine and jumped out onto the private dock. He secured the craft and helped Erin out of the boat. Her eyes swept the beach until she spotted the cabin. A slow smile spread over her features.

“Well, what do you think?” Kane asked, his arm draped possessively over her slim shoulders.

“I think this all looks suspiciously like a set from one of those 1940s, black-and-white, slice-of-life movies,” she commented as her eyes studied the small cozy cabin and its state of apparent neglect.

“I knew you’d like it,” Kane replied with a self-satisfied smile. “Come on. Let’s take a look inside…”

The cabin was, if nothing else, rustic. A broad, sagging front porch protected the front door. The cabin was constructed of cedar, and to Erin’s discriminating eye, had never been painted. It bore the weathered look of exposed gray wood blanched by the salt of the sea. At one end of the porch a worn rope hammock swung in the breeze coming off the ocean. The front door groaned as it was opened, and the interior of the cabin had a musty, unused odor. There was no electricity, but running water was pumped into the kitchen. A woodstove in the kitchen and a massive stone fireplace at one end of the living area provided the only sources of heat in the building. Erin surveyed the cabin with a skeptical eye. She had never been much of a believer in “roughing it” when modern conveniences were the available alternative.

Kane unpacked the boat and started searching for firewood, while Erin lit the rose-colored kerosene lamps and removed the dustcovers from the furniture. To air out the interior, she opened all the windows, heedless of the chill in the air, and felt the tickle of salt air burn in her lungs.

The cabin was rather barren, and what little furniture there was appeared threadbare. But she had to admit that once she had swept the dust from the floor, and the fire was lit, the warm scent of burning wood mingled with the fresh fragrance of the salt sea air, and the cabin seemed bearable, if not cheerfully inviting. Fortunately Kane had the foresight to stop off at a delicatessen in Seattle before picking up Erin, and he had purchased sandwiches and a bottle of wine. Erin rummaged in the old-fashioned kitchen and was able to find an unopened package of paper cups along with a tarnished but necessary corkscrew for the wine.

Pleased with her discoveries, she retraced her footsteps back into the living area. Brandishing the corkscrew dramatically in the air, she captured Kane’s attention.
“Voilà!’
she announced theatrically, and placed the cups on the floor next to the couch.

Because of the chill of the evening sea breeze, Kane was closing the final window in an effort to retain the heat from the fireplace when Erin reentered the room. He snapped the window latch closed and turned to face Erin, who wondered aloud, “How in the world did you ever find this place?”

“It’s not exactly moonlight and roses, is it?” he asked, crossing the room to the fireplace. He squatted near the golden flames and warmed his palms against the heat that the fire offered.

“Who needs moonlight and roses?” she asked rhetorically, and shrugged.

“Don’t you?” Gray eyes searched her face as if she were a puzzle to him.

“I’m a little too much of a realist to think that the world revolves around silver moonlight, cut flowers and soft music,” she admitted dryly.

“Are you?” A smile of disbelief tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Does it matter?” she asked, and unwrapped the sandwiches. “Anyway, you’re avoiding my question—how did you come to find this private little hideaway?”

After dusting his hands on his jeans, Kane sat down next to her on the floor, allowing the slightly weathered couch to support his head and shoulders. His long legs stretched in front of him, and nearly reached the warm red coals of the fire. Erin silently offered him a sandwich, which he gratefully accepted, and between bites he explained.

“As you already know, I’m looking for a permanent residence for Krista and myself in Seattle. I read the classified ads every day, hoping to find something suitable.” He paused to open the wine and poured the cool clear liquid into the paper cups. The light from the fire reflected and danced against the deep green bottle and in his clear gray eyes.

“Anyway—” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t all that important “—I came across an ad for this place. I’ve always had a fascination for the sea and the wilderness, not to mention rustic old cabins. And I thought it would be good for Krista. This place sounded perfect.”

Erin nearly choked on the wine that she had been sipping. She eyed the interior of the cabin speculatively. “You’re not telling me that you bought this place sight unseen?” she gasped, unable to shake the astounded look from her face. It hardly seemed “perfect” for anyone, much less an eleven-year-old girl bound to a wheelchair! Erin surveyed the living quarters more closely. The old cabin needed a lot of work. The cleaning alone would take several days, and the varnish on the pine walls was cracking and beginning to peel. There was no hot water, the floors needed to be refinished, and the furniture—all of it needed to be replaced or repaired. The list of jobs seemed endless to her practiced eye.

Kane watched Erin with obvious amusement. The deep-timbred tones of his laughter drew her attention back to him. “No,” he laughed, “I haven’t bought this place. In fact, this weekend is just a trial run. A widow owns the place, but she hasn’t been up here since her husband died a couple of years ago. She knows that I’m interested in buying it, but she agreed to rent it to me for the weekend—to look around for myself.”

“You’re really serious about buying it?” Erin gasped. “It doesn’t even have electricity!”

“Part of its charm, wouldn’t you say?” He grinned at her obvious dismay.

“It’s your money,” she conceded with a dismissive shrug, and took another sip of her wine. The bright embers from the fire and the heady effect of the wine lured her into a serene sense of complacency. She watched Kane over the rim of her cup, and noticed the mood swing that seemed to come over him.

At her offhand comment about money, Kane stiffened. “That it is,” he agreed almost inaudibly. He set the remains of his uneaten dinner aside, and stared into the orange and black coals of the fire. His mood had indeed shifted, and Erin, even in her peaceful state, could sense that the tension was coiling within him again.

The fire crackled and popped as it burned the pitch-darkened wood. The movements of the flames reflected in menacing shadows over the angular structure of Kane’s masculine face. His question surprised Erin.

“Did you know that Mitchell Cameron’s arraignment hearing is scheduled for late this week?” he asked in an accusatory voice. Gray eyes slid sideways, trying to catch her reaction. His pose was relaxed, his hands crossed comfortably over his chest, but Erin could sense the strain due to the twist in the conversation, and saw the tense rigidity of the muscles in his face.

“I read about it in the paper,” she replied unevenly. Carefully, with nervous hands, she set aside the rest of her suddenly unappetizing sandwich and took another drink from her cup. The cool wine felt smooth against the rough texture of her throat. Mitchell Cameron had become a taboo subject between Erin and Kane, a topic that was never brought out into the open. It was as if, by silent agreement, neither person would chance the subject of Mitch. For reasons Erin didn’t understand, the subject of Mitch was a potential powder keg. Why then, tonight, would Kane turn the conversation in Mitch’s direction?

Kane’s voice broke into her fragmented thoughts. “There’s a chance that I’ll be out of town at the time of the hearing.”

“But don’t you have to testify?”

“I’ve already signed a sworn deposition,” was the clipped reply. “I’m sure it will satisfy the court.”

“Oh, Kane.” Erin sighed, suddenly feeling very tired and unnerved. “Are you sure that you want to prosecute Mitch?” she asked, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.

He withdrew as quickly as if he had been seared by her touch. Twisting his head to meet her startled gaze, he drew his lips into a thin and menacingly grim line. “Is that what this is all about?” he demanded, and grabbed her wrist harshly.

“What—I don’t understand!”

“Is that what you want, for me to drop the charges against your ex-employer? Is that why you’ve been so willing?” Steely eyes swept over her body and charged her with a crime she couldn’t understand.

“Why, you…bastard!” she gasped, suddenly understanding at least a part of his vicious accusation. Involuntarily she drew her free hand backward in an effort to slap him. But she stopped in midswing as the same tortured look that she had seen so often in the past softened the severity of his dark gaze.

He dropped her wrist and closed his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry,” he whispered huskily.

“You should be!”

“All right!” He reached a hesitant hand to her cheek and caressed its regal lines with exploring and sensitive fingers. “I have no choice,” he assured her. “I have to prosecute Cameron. The board of directors would insist upon it, the bonding insurance company….”