Hiding Out At The Circle C Read online

  "I thought you were working."

  "The work'll wait."

  "But—"

  "Shh. Just listen, it's beautiful."

  It seemed decadent. Wasting precious moments sitting on a bench, with a man she didn't really know, watching nothing but time go by. Haley hadn't spent much time in leisure, if any. Her time had never been her own. But the wild sky, churning and venting violence like a casual whim, had caught her. She couldn't look away.

  "You'll be hungry," she said during a brief lull, feeling as if she had to say something.

  "No." His face was turned upward, raptly watching as flash after flash of lightning exploded like a fireworks display, streaking the sky with jagged lines of light.

  "I really should go—"

  For a man who looked so at ease, lounging back against the bench, he sure could move fast, reaching for her with a hand corded with strength. "Come on, Ms. Restless, just sit a minute. Can't you do that?" His eyes sparkled with amusement.

  "Just sit and watch the rain?"

  "Just sit and watch the rain. You don't always have to be doing something. Or do you?"

  His eyes were as dark as the night, and surprisingly, as full of secrets, but not necessarily happy ones. His scent floated on the wind; an intriguing mix of horses, wood and pure man. On her chilled arm, the warmth of his hand soaked into her, and even as she thought it, his fingers loosened to run along the length of her skin, causing a strange sort of shiver.

  "You're cold."

  Goodness, he was dangerous to her pulse. "I'm fine."

  He shook his head. "You're stubborn, is what you are." He moved the now sleeping Max off his lap to the bench and slid closer to her until his body brushed against hers. She didn't want to think about how deliciously warm he felt. "Now watch. The rain's coming."

  Another surprise—somewhere over the past few minutes, her loneliness had vanished, along with her nervousness about the dark night. She didn't want to think about the reasons for that, but she had to laugh when he casually stretched his long arm over the back of her shoulders.

  "What?" he asked, blinking innocently.

  She stared pointedly at his work-roughened fingers, settled inches from her shoulder, then turned to him. "Your move. It wasn't very subtle."

  He sighed. "Just like a woman, you can't be quiet for five seconds."

  Her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to retort.

  "Shh." He squeezed her shoulder gently, then pointed. "Look."

  The first drop fell, then another. Within a split second, the sky had simply opened itself up, dumping upon the dry and crusted earth below. Each individual, fat drop bounced off the ground with a little ping. More lightning. More thunder. Ping, ping, ping. Fascinated by the unexpected concert of nature, she sat mesmerized.

  They stayed there in silence, simply enjoying the night. She found that since she'd made the decision to call the USGS in the morning, she felt better. So she sat, content.

  Even when she shivered again, she didn't want to move, for the lightning came at regular intervals, marring the black sky and riveting her gaze. She'd seen storms before—hundreds—but never anything like this.

  She hadn't forgotten about Cameron; that would have been impossible. He filled her senses. She felt him, watched him, could almost taste him. He pulled her closer, and she realized she was shaking with cold. "I'd give you my jacket," he drawled in her ear with a husky voice that invoked its own shiver. "But I already did."

  And she hadn't returned it. Remorse hit her and she started to rise. "I'm sorry—"

  He held her close. "Don't be. Just make sure you don't wash it before you give it back."

  "Why?" She made the mistake of looking at him. His dark, heavy-lidded eyes smoldered.

  "I want it to smell like you." He leaned close, laughing a little when she flinched at the drum of thunder.

  She pulled her head back and stumbled over her words. "The storm was beautiful, thanks, but I've got to go."

  "You ought to do that more," he said, letting her go this time when she pulled away.

  She reached the back door. "Do what?"

  "Relax." Standing, he stretched lazily, then came toward her with that same long-legged easy grace she'd admired in Zach. Only this time, in Cameron, it didn't seem quite so harmless.

  As for Cam, he wished he didn't invoke that particular expression on her face—the one that clearly stated how uneasy she felt around him, how wary she still was. Wanting to delay her, he said, "It's early yet. Want to sit some more?"

  Haley hesitated, her hand on the door as if ready to bolt at the slightest movement from him. "What for?"

  He laughed. "Just because. We could watch the storm again, or just talk."

  She shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. I really have—"

  "I know," he said, shaking his head. "You have stuff to do. Well, it's my stuff and it can wait."

  She sighed and looked away. "You don't put a very high priority on work, do you?"

  "The work will always be there." He moved closer. "But fun… That's another thing entirely. You have to grab it when you can."

  "Hmm."

  "Now take today…" She tensed and he knew she expected him to grill her about the barn incident, but he didn't work that way. "When you caught your first glimpse of Margaret—" he grinned wide "—that was fun."

  "I see." One brow rose haughtily, her chin lifted.

  Despite his good intentions to remain distant and wary, he liked her. Especially when she used that prim, annoyed tone as a defense. He pictured her as a teacher, and not for the first time, wondered exactly what it was she'd done before. "Fun is easy, Haley. Everyone likes fun."

  "It has its time and place," she admitted. "But there are other things."

  Her blue eyes were full of mysteries he could only guess at as she watched the rain fall. "Like what?"

  "Like responsibility."

  "Something I'd guess you'd be very good at." Because he couldn't resist touching her, he tucked a wayward strand of silky dark hair behind her ear. "What is it you really do, Haley?"

  She licked her lips when he stepped closer, but didn't move away or object. "I told you, I'm a housekeeper."

  "Now, maybe."

  "You don't think I've done this before?"

  Nellie had told him she'd caught Haley sitting on the kitchen floor, avidly reading the directions on a bottle of pine-scented cleaner, muttering to herself. She'd thought it cute and meticulous, but to Cam, it told him much more than that. It told him she wasn't used to using it. "You're avoiding my question."

  "And you said you weren't going to ask me any," she reminded him.

  He smiled, though it was a struggle. He wanted her to open up, to tell him she wasn't normally a person who hid things, who lied. That she had a really, really good reason for doing so now. Fool that he was, he'd probably believe her. "I said I wouldn't push you about where you'd come from and what you'd done. And I won't. This was just a harmless question, part of our casual conversations. You know, from one person to another."

  "And therefore," she concluded, lifting a brow, "a different matter entirely, right?"

  "That's right." Yeah, he really liked the way she got all huffy and pompous. It suited her. And stirred his juices. "So, are you going to tell me?"

  "No." She glanced over at the next sharp flash of lightning while he tensed. The thunder rumbled. The rain still fell, dripping off the patio, creating an intimate aura. She turned her head back to his and once again, their faces were only inches apart. Slyly, he slipped an arm around her waist.

  "Kind of clichéd, isn't it, Cameron? Using a storm as a scene of seduction?"

  "Only if it works," he said, laughing, loosening up again. "Is it?"

  "Not a chance."

  "Ouch," he said good-naturedly, experienced enough not to back away. Yet. He was pleased that her breathing didn't seem so even, because his had all but stopped. Her skin glowed softly in the soft light from the kitchen window. The