Hiding Out At The Circle C Read online

  "Nellie, could you give Haley and me a minute?" Cam sent Nellie a special sister-to-brother look, communicating without a word.

  Nellie locked Haley in a quick bear hug. She repeated the motion with Cam, whispering something in his ear that had him nodding his head solemnly.

  "Thanks, honey," he said to her, leading her to the kitchen door with an arm around her waist. "Now go rest. And stop worrying about this or Jas will have my hide."

  He waited until they were alone before turning back to Haley. His gaze pinned her to the spot. "Nellie was drilling you."

  "Kindly, but yes." Haley had never felt so … sick. She'd destroyed any chance she would have had with the most wonderful man on earth. "I know you're upset with me."

  "Do you?"

  "Yes. And I completely understand. I can leave, but I'd like to wait until—"

  He let out a disbelieving laugh. "You understand nothing, Haley. Absolutely nothing, if you can calmly discuss my wanting you to leave."

  "You … don't want me to go?"

  A muscle worked in his cheek and into his eyes came the warm light she'd wanted so badly to see. "God, no." He came toward her, but stopped short of touching her.

  "What do you want?"

  He let out a low laugh. "A lot of things. To know you, for one."

  "You know me."

  He just looked at her, then opened the leather jacket he wore. From the inside pocket he took out two things she recognized immediately. He held up the tiny notebook and the pocket phone book she always kept in her purse.

  "I found these under my desk. I'm guessing they came from your purse. The funny thing is," he said in a deceptively calm voice, "I consider myself a smart man. Not terribly motivated, I admit, but that's another story." He flipped through her notebook. "These notes might have been written in Greek for all I understand. Lots of geology talk. Magnitudes, intensity, seismic waves, that sort of thing. I'm guessing they have something to do with South America."

  "Yes," she said harshly. "Thanks to those notes, people's lives have been destroyed. Thanks to me, there's been earthquakes, a bomb set off, and uranium found, then lost because of greed." She gulped hard. "Thanks to what's in those notes, my life has been turned upside down and I'm a wanted woman, on the run from God-knows-whom and the law."

  Cam tilted his head and studied her thoughtfully. "Feel better?"

  She did. Letting it all out felt a whole lot better, but hell if she'd admit it when she was so keyed up, that if he so much as touched her, she'd explode. "That's my phone book, too," she snapped. "Hope you enjoyed your little sneak peek into my life, Cameron." She reached for it, a little surprised when he gave it right over.

  "I didn't enjoy anything," he said quietly, his voice gentle and incredibly apologetic. "I just was hoping you'd tell me why you don't have any non-geology numbers listed in there except for an Isabella Whitfield in Manhattan. Is she a relative?"

  "She's my mother, though I have no idea if that's the current address for her. We … sort of lost touch." Another lie. Not told to avoid danger this time, but for self-preservation. How could she admit her mother didn't want anything to do with the nerd kid she'd never understood? "There's no one else in there because, as I told you, I don't have anyone else."

  "You have me," he said, startling her by taking her shoulders. His eyes held so much, her own grew wet. "You keep forgetting that."

  "No, I don't forget. I just…" Just what? What would keep him safe? "I just don't want you."

  "Really?" He pulled her to him, his eyes dark and intent. She braced herself, but his kiss was tenderly devastating, and she had no defenses against it. She moaned and held him close, trying to memorize each and every sensation, to keep it all in her heart forever.

  Cam pulled his head back a fraction. "Don't want me, huh?"

  She was wrapped around him like cellophane on candy. She flushed.

  "It's all coming back to haunt you, isn't it?" he asked roughly, giving her a little shake. "Lies have a nasty habit of doing that, you know. I warned you." He inhaled deeply as if it hurt to breathe. "I told you, I can't do this anymore, and I meant it." He sank his fingers into her hair, forcing her to look into his terribly hurt eyes. "But you can't stop, can you? You can't stop lying. Not even to yourself."

  Anger surged, hurt seeped deep. She pushed him away. "Dammit, I'm not Lorraine! I'm not lying to you about getting my nails done, or spending too much money on clothes! This is life and death and… God. I don't want to witness yours." She shoved at him again, the tears she didn't want to acknowledge threatening to spill. "You have a terrible habit of crowding me, Cameron, I keep telling you that." She whirled from him, then leaned over the table on stiff arms.

  He came up behind her—she could feel him, though he didn't make a sound. She closed her eyes against the deep, yearning ache he invariably caused.

  "I'm not going to die." His voice, by her ear, was gravelly with emotion. "And neither are you. I won't let it happen. But, Haley, you've got to trust me—at least with how you feel for me. You're killing me, here."

  She felt wretchedly ashamed now. In his voice was something she'd always wanted, something she could have, if she would only reach for it. But she couldn't. He couldn't know what it did to her heart, to be offered something she'd wanted her entire life—trust—and then to have to turn it away. "I'm going to leave, Cam."

  He dropped her notebook on the table in front of her. It clamored noisily in the silent kitchen. "I wish you could believe in me. I want that more than you could know. But even more than that, I want your safety. I don't want anything to happen to you, Haley. You want me to stop crowding you. Fine. I will. But don't leave."

  She felt his fingers brush over the back of her neck in a soft, loving caress. She held herself rigid, knowing if he so much as touched her again, she'd give in and fly into his arms.

  "Don't go," he whispered. Without another word, he left the kitchen.

  She waited until the door shut before sinking into the nearest chair, dropping her head into her arms. The tears she'd been holding back fell freely, but it didn't matter.

  Nothing mattered.

  She'd done this to herself. She'd fallen in love with a man she could never have. Her sobs echoed around her, like her dashed dreams, crushed hopes and broken heart.

  * * *

  Much later, Haley thought to check the pager, which had been ominously silent.

  Nothing. She shouldn't have been so surprised, but she was. The service had been disconnected. There would be no more messages.

  She was completely alone.

  * * *

  Cam pushed the papers littering his desk away and shoved ten fingers into his hair. Haley was going to leave, if he didn't stop her. He'd call the police and turn her in before he let that happen. But what would that do to her—that final betrayal?

  Without stopping to think about the wisdom of it, he pulled out her mother's phone number and dialed it.

  An English guy answered. He turned out to be the butler, giving Cam the third degree. By the time Mrs. Whitfield came on the line, Cam had started to regret the call.

  "Mrs. Whitfield," he said in his most charming Southern voice. "I'm a friend of your daughter's and—"

  "Haley?"

  Well, who the hell did she think? "Yes, Haley. I know you haven't seen her lately, but she could really use your support right now—"

  The woman laughed, long and coldly. "I paid for her education, which was more than most would have done. I'll not give her another penny."

  "But—"

  "Tell her to capitalize on her brains. For whatever they're worth."

  Something deep inside Cam chilled when he pictured Haley as a little girl, with this icy woman for a mother. No wonder she felt she could rely on no one but herself.

  "I'm sorry," Mrs. Whitfield said. "I have another call."

  She wasn't sorry at all, except for the fifteen seconds she'd wasted. But he had to try one last time. "Your daughter is in trouble