Disclosure: The McCaffertys

  “Empathy,” she said.

  “No one who hasn’t lost a child can empathize,” he said, his fingers tightening, his eyes fierce. “It’s just not possible.”

  “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel some of your pain.”

  “Well, don’t. It’s mine. You can do nothing.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “No...it’s better.”

  “How?” he demanded, his nostrils flaring. “Tell me how you knowing about Heather helps anything.”

  “I understand you better.”

  “Jesus, Randi. That’s woman patter. You don’t need to figure out what makes me tick or even know about what I’ve been through. You weren’t there, okay? So I’d rather you not try to ‘feel my pain’ or any of that self-aggrandizing pseudopsychological, television talk-show crap. You just need to do what I tell you to do so that we can make certain that you and your son are safe. End of story.”

  “Not quite,” she whispered, and without thinking, placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth. The need to soothe him was overpowering, nearly as intense as her own need to be comforted. To be held. “If we’re going to be sequestered from the rest of the world, I do need to understand you.” She kissed him again.

  “Don’t do that.” His voice was hoarse and she noticed that he shifted, as if his jeans were suddenly too tight.

  “Why?” she asked, not budging an inch, so close she smelled the rain drying on his jacket. She felt reckless and wild and wanted to touch him and hold him close, this man who had seen so much of life, felt so much pain.

  “You know why.”

  “Kurt, I just want to help.”

  “You can’t.” He turned to look her square in the eye, his nose only inches from hers. “Don’t you know what you’re dealing with here?”

  “I’m not afraid.” She kissed his cheek and he groaned.

  “Don’t do this, Randi,” he ordered, but it sounded like a plea.

  “You can trust me.”

  “This isn’t about trust.”

  “No? Then why are we here? Alone together? If I didn’t trust you, you can bet I wouldn’t be locked away from the world like this. Believe me, Striker, this is all about trust. That’s why you told me about Heather.”

  “Let’s leave her out of this!” he growled.

  “You have a right to be angry about what happened to your daughter.”

  “Good. ’Cuz I am and you’re not helping!”

  “No?” she said, her temper snapping. “Then I don’t suppose I helped the other night, either?”

  “Hell,” he muttered, glancing away. His fingers were still surrounding her wrist, her pulse beating wildly beneath the warm pads.

  “You remember that night, don’t you?” she reminded him. “The one where you were watching me from the second story? That night, you didn’t have any of these reservations.”

  “That night is the reason I’m having these reservations. It was a mistake.”

  “You didn’t think so at the time.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t think period. But I’m trying to now.”

  “So it’s okay for you to seduce me, but not the other way around.”

  He closed his eyes as if to gain strength. “I didn’t bring you up here to sleep with you.”

  “No?” She kissed him again, behind his ear, and this time his reaction was immediate.

  He turned swiftly, pinning her onto the floor and leaning over her. “Look, woman, you’re pushing it with me. A man can only take so much.”

  “Same with a woman,” she said. “You can’t just—”

  The rest of her sentence was cut off as his lips clamped over hers. Fierce. Hot. Hard. Desperate. He kissed her long and wildly and she responded, opening her mouth, feeling his tongue slide into her, arching as it probed. Her breath was trapped, her blood on fire, her bones melting as he slid his hands up and down her body. No longer did he deny what they both wanted. No longer did he say a word, just kissed and touched and tugged at her clothes.

  She had no regrets. This was what she wanted. To touch him, physically and emotionally. Her own fingers struggled with the zipper of his coat and the shirt buttons below. She felt strong sinewy muscles covered by taut skin and chest hair that was stiff. Her fingertips grazed nipples that tightened at her touch.

  “Oh, God,” he rasped as he yanked off his shirt, then worked at the hem of her sweater. Strong, callused hands rubbed her skin as he scaled her ribs. She cried out as he touched beneath her bra, skimming the underside of her breasts. Her nipples tightened. Her breasts filled and she wanted him. With every breath in her body, she needed to feel him inside her, to have him rubbing and moving and balming the ache growing deep within. He peeled away her bra and scooped her into his strong arms, climbed to his feet and carried her to the sleeping bag, where they fell into a tangle of arms and legs. His mouth was ravenous as he kissed her face and breasts. Hard fingers splayed against the small of her back, pulling her tight against him, pressing her mound into the hardness of his fly, rubbing her sensually.

  She moaned softly as he kissed her nipples, teasing them with his tongue and lips, biting softly before he nuzzled and sucked. Her mind spun in dizzying fragments of light and shadow. She saw his face buried into her breasts, felt his fingertips probing beneath the waistband of her pants, burned with a want so hot she was sweating in the cold room, aching for him, her fingers reaching for his fly. “Randi,” he whispered across her wet breasts. “Oh, God, darlin’...” His hand slid down the slope of her rump, fingers stretching to find that sweet spot within her. She cried out and moved her hips as he yanked off her pants with his free hand and continued to explore with his other. Parting her. Delving deep. Causing her to gasp and throw her head back as she arched and he suckled at her breast. He scratched the surface of her need. Liquid warmth seared her.

  “More,” she whispered, lost.

  He stripped her panties from her.

  She fumbled with the buttons of his fly, but they came undone and, with amazing agility, he kicked out of his jeans to be naked with her. Skin on skin. Flesh on flesh. Blood heating, he pulled her atop him, and in one quick movement removed his hand and replaced it with his thick, hard erection.

  “Oh!” she cried as he pushed her hips down and raised his buttocks in one swift motion. The world melted away as they began to move. Slowly at first. Friction and fire. Heat and want. All emotion and need. Randi closed her eyes and heard a slow, long moan. From her throat or his? She didn’t know, didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the man beneath her, the man she wanted, the man she feared she loved. This small moment in time could very well be their last, but she didn’t care, just wanted to feel him within her.

  Deep inside something snapped. She wanted more of him. More. So much more. Opening her eyes, she saw him staring at her, his own gaze bright with the same desire as her own. “That’s it, baby,” he whispered as she increased the tempo. He caught up quickly and took command, his hands tight on her as he began pumping furiously beneath her. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, his skin tight, his hair damp with perspiration. Yet he didn’t stop.

  Hotter. Faster. The world spinning. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh...oh...” she cried as the world seemed to catch fire and explode around her. She convulsed, but still he held her upright, still he thrust into her, and though she’d felt complete surrender a minute before, she met each of his jabs with her own downward motion. Again. And again... Over and over until the heat rose in her in such a rush that she bucked. This time he came with her, his breath screaming out of his lungs, his body straining upward as he let go and finally emptied himself into her.

  “Randi!” he cried hoarsely, his voice breaking, “Oh, love...”

  She fell against him and felt his strong arms surround her and hold her close. One hand cradled her head, the other was wrapped around her waist. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes as his words echoed through her head. Though they were spoken in the thro
es of passion, though she knew she would never hear them again, she clung to them. Randi... Oh, love.

  They would be meaningless in the morning, but for now, for all of this night, they sustained her. She cuddled up against him, and knew a few moments’ peace. For tonight, she would indulge herself. For tonight, she would sleep with this man she could so easily love. For tonight she’d forget that he was her bodyguard, paid to protect her, a man who no woman in her right mind would allow herself to fall for.

  * * *

  Lovers.

  She and Kurt had become lovers.

  The thought hit her hard, battering at her before she opened her eyes and knew that he wasn’t in the sleeping bag with her. They’d made love over and over the night before and now... She opened one eye to the cabin as morning light streamed through the dusty windows. If anything, the dilapidated old cottage looked worse in the gloom of the day. The baby was rustling. It had probably been his soft cries that had cut through her thick slumber and roused her. So here she was, naked, cold, no sign of Kurt, in the middle of nowhere.

  “Coming,” she called to the baby as she found her clothes and slid into them. As she felt a slight soreness between her legs, a reminder of what had happened, what she’d instigated last night. What had she been thinking? Embarrassed at her actions, she crawled over to her baby and smiled down at his beatific face. “Hungry?” she asked, though she was already changing him. How quickly she’d become adept at holding him in place, talking to him, removing the old diaper, cleaning him and whipping a new diaper around him.

  She found premixed formula in a bottle and, singing softly, fed her child. She heard the door open and looked over her shoulder to spy Kurt, carrying an armload of split kindling into the cabin. She felt heat wash up the back of her neck, but he didn’t seem embarrassed. “Mornin’,” he drawled, and the look he sent her reminded her of their lovemaking all over again. She’d been the aggressor. She’d practically begged him to make love to her. She’d definitely seduced him and now she felt the fool.

  “I think I should say something about last night,” she offered.

  “What’s to say?”

  “That I’m not usually like that...”

  “Too bad.” One side of his mouth lifted. “I thought it was pretty damn nice.”

  “Really? But you...I mean you acted like it was a mistake. You said it was one.”

  “But it happened, right? I think we shouldn’t second-guess ourselves.”

  “So it was no big deal?” she asked, and felt slightly deflated.

  “It was a big deal, but let’s not start the morning with recriminations, okay? I don’t think that would solve anything. As I said, I’m not into overanalyzing emotions.” He stacked the kindling in an old crate that was probably home to several nests of spiders. “I was hoping to make coffee before you woke up.”

  “Mmm. Sounds like heaven,” she admitted.

  “It’ll be just a second.” He dusted his hands and found a packet of coffee.

  “I don’t suppose you have a nonfat, vanilla latte with extra foam and chocolate sprinkles?” she asked, and he snorted a laugh.

  “You lived in Seattle too long.”

  “Tell that to my boss,” she muttered. “Actually, when I’m finished here...” She inclined her head toward her son. “I want to call him. If I’m allowed,” she added.

  “Just as long as you don’t divulge our whereabouts.”

  “That would be tough considering that I don’t know where we are.” Randi finished feeding the baby and played with him as she changed his clothes. While Kurt heated water for the instant coffee, she balanced her son to her shoulder and put in another call to Bill Withers, only to leave another voice message when the editor didn’t pick up his phone. “Withers must be ducking me,” she muttered as she redialed and connected with Sarah.

  “Where’ve you been?” Sarah demanded once she realized she was talking to Randi. “Bill gave me the third degree, and whenever your name is mentioned, he looks as if he’s having a seizure.”

  “I can’t really say, but I’ll be back—” she glanced at Kurt who was shaking his head “—soon. I don’t really know when. In the meantime I’m going to email my stories. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, most of the questions I get come in over the internet.”

  “It’s a control issue with Bill, but then it is with most men.”

  “Especially if the man happens to be your boss,” Randi said. “Look, if he talks to you, tell him I’m trying to get hold of him. I’ve called twice and I’m going to email in a couple of hours.”

  “Well, hurry back, okay?”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Randi assured her.

  “Should I tell Joe?”

  “What?”

  “Paterno’s back in town and he’s been asking about you.”

  Randi and Joe had never been lovers, their relationship hadn’t blossomed in a romantic way. She was surprised that he’d be looking for her. “Well, tell him I’ll get back to him when I’m in town,” she said, and saw Striker stiffen slightly. He couldn’t help but overhear her conversation and she didn’t like the fact that she had so little privacy. “Look, Sarah, I’ve got to run.” She hung up, hoping to save as much battery as possible before Sarah could argue. Exchanging the phone for a cup of coffee, she said, “So I didn’t lie, did I? This will end soon.”

  “I think so, but I did some checking this morning before you woke and so far no one’s been able to locate Sam Donahue.”

  “You think he’s hiding?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or...?” She didn’t like the feeling she was getting. “Or you think he’s followed us?”

  “I don’t know. Did he come looking for you at the office? I heard you tell your friend that you’d get back with him.”

  “That wasn’t Sam.” She hesitated, then decided to come clean. “It was Joe Paterno. We were...are...friends. That’s all. That’s all there ever was between us.”

  He looked as if he didn’t believe her.

  “Really.” She lifted a shoulder. “Sorry to disappoint you. I get the feeling that you think I had this incredible love life, that I slept with every man I dated, but that just wasn’t the case. I let everyone wonder about my baby’s paternity to protect him. The fewer people who knew that Sam was the baby’s father, the better it was for me and Joshua. At least that’s what I thought, so I let people draw their own conclusions about my love life.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “I might not have the best taste in men, but I am somewhat picky.”

  “I guess I should feel flattered.”

  “Damn straight,” she said, sending a look guaranteed to kill, then took a long swallow of coffee before turning her attention to her baby. After all, he was the reason that everything was happening and Randi wouldn’t have changed a thing. Not if it meant she never would have had her son. Joshua made it all worthwhile.

  Even the accident, she thought as the baby giggled and cooed.

  Late last fall she’d left Seattle intending to return to the ranch she’d inherited from her father. She’d just wanted some peace of mind and time alone in Montana where she intended to write her book and do some serious soul-searching. Once on the ranch, she’d made some stupid mistakes including firing Larry Todd, the foreman, and even letting Juanita Ramirez, the housekeeper, go. Those decisions had been stupid, as Larry had known the livestock backward and forward and Juanita had not only helped raise Randi and her half brothers but had put up with their father until the grumpy old man had died. But Randi had been on a mission and had believed that before she could take care of a baby, she had to prove to herself that she could be completely self-reliant.

  She’d thought that living on the Flying M, returning to her roots and running the ranch while writing her book might be the right kind of therapy she needed. After the baby came, she’d figured she could look after her child and raise him where she’d grown up, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Plus, she still had
her job at the Clarion, using email and a fax machine, until she could return to Seattle every other week or so if need be.

  The prospect of becoming a mother—a single mother—had been daunting. How would she deal with her son’s inevitable questions about his father? When she finished the book and the scam was exposed, many people in the rodeo world, including Sam Donahue, would be investigated and possibly indicted. How would she feel knowing that she’d sent her son’s father to prison?

  Nevertheless, because she’d been born a McCafferty, the kind of person who never shied away from the truth or tough decisions, she’d come to the conclusion that she had to let the truth be known and let the chips fall where they may.

  But she hadn’t gotten the chance. On her way back to Grand Hope, she’d had the accident that had nearly taken her life and sent her into premature labor. She’d been laid up in a coma, woken up to find out that she couldn’t remember anything and that she had this wonderful infant son. As she’d recovered and her memory had returned in bits and snatches, she was horrified to realize that she’d been played for a fool, that Sam Donahue was Joshua’s father and that he was a heartless criminal.

  And now... And now what? She leaned closer to the baby and her locket swung free of her shirt. Joshua giggled and smiled, kicking and reaching for the glittering gold heart. “Silly boy,” she said, leaning over to buss him in the tummy. He chortled and she did it again, making a game of it, closing out her doubts and worries as she played with her child.

  Striker’s cell phone rang, disturbing the quiet.

  He flipped it open and answered, “Kurt Striker... Yeah, she’s right here... I don’t know if that’s such a great idea.... Fine. Just a sec.”

  Randi turned her head and saw Striker glowering through the window, his cell phone pressed against his ear. He glanced her way and her heart nearly stopped. Something had happened. Something bad. “What?”

  “Okay, put him on, but I don’t have much battery left, so he’d better keep it short.” He held the phone toward Randi. “That was Brown. He found Sam Donahue.”