Hiding Out At The Circle C Read online

  It was the last thing he expected of her—a personal diary. The most recent entry was dated days ago, a day he remembered all too well. Their trip to the library. The day he'd held her in his arms as she'd cried in grief and fear. He read her words.

  I can't stop myself from thinking about Cam, can't seem to stop myself from dreaming about what it would be like to make love with him.

  Cam's mouth fell open. Utterly incapable of stopping now, he read on.

  Since I can't imagine he'd really want to be with me, I guess I'd have to seduce him. Ha! As if I'd even know how. I'd probably start with candles.

  Cam groaned out loud.

  In my fantasy, I'd have the sort of body that would make a grown man beg, so that when I took off my clothes, the gentle light would flicker over my body. I'd be so beautiful, he wouldn't be able to turn away. We'd step into a hot, deep tub and he'd lose himself in me. I wish—

  The writing stopped abruptly. Dazed, Cam lifted his head and stared at her rumpled bed. She wanted him. She'd fantasized about him. He could almost see the candlelight flickering over her body, see her dripping wet from the tub, feel himself sinking into her… God. If he'd ever been more turned-on, he couldn't remember.

  Then he looked up and went still. Haley stood in the doorway. Her dark hair framed her lovely face, the flowered dress she still wore dipped enticingly low in front. He could imagine lifting her up, carrying her into the bathroom and fulfilling her fantasy. That her bathroom had a shower, not a tub, and that there wasn't a candle in the place wouldn't have stopped him.

  But her expression did.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice low and controlled. Only the way she gripped her hands told him she was upset.

  "I … ah…" He'd lost track of that when all the blood had drained from his head, rushing to his lap.

  Her eyes narrowed on what he held, then widened as she took it all in; him sitting on her bed, holding the journal she'd written. "That's mine."

  "I'm sorry." He stood just as she grabbed the pad of paper from his hands. "I—"

  "Oh, my God," she whispered, staring down at the opened pad. Her face reddened, but still she met his gaze evenly. "You read this."

  He nodded, watching as she closed her eyes in misery and mortification. "No," he said, reaching for her. "Don't do that. I'm sorry I invaded your privacy, but—"

  She jerked back, covering her cheeks with her hands. "You're sorry?" She choked out a laugh. "You read my most private thoughts, thoughts I can never get back, and you're sorry?"

  Turning from him, she plopped down on the edge of the bed, then dropped her head into her hands. "Go away," she said quite clearly. "Just go away."

  He sank to his knees before her and gently pried her hands from her still-red face. "I'm very sorry if I embarrassed and hurt you. That's the last thing I wanted to do."

  "You should have thought of that first. Before you read my things."

  He felt like the lowest form of life. "I know."

  "You keep butting into my life," she said in amazement. "I don't know why, but you do. I don't like it." She shook her head. "And to think I'd gone looking for you, wanting…"

  He leaped on that—anything to change the subject. "Wanting what?"

  "Never mind now." She lifted that stubborn chin. "You ask impossible questions, dig where you shouldn't be digging, and now this!"

  "If I'm pushing where I said I wouldn't, then I'm sorry for that, too. But I'm worried sick about you. You're holding your head like it hurts so much it's going to fall off. You've given yourself ulcers. You need sleeping pills. And you've lost weight." He surged to his feet. "Yeah, I'm going to push now. I told you I wouldn't, but I can't hold back the concern, and dammit, I won't be sorry for that."

  She'd gone completely still. "I can't believe how much you care."

  At the moment, he couldn't, either.

  "I'd come looking for you to tell you I … didn't mean it before. I don't want you to stay out of my life. I trust you, Cam. And I've never said that before, to anyone." She bit her lip at his stunned silence. "I just wanted you to know."

  He gave her a little smile. "It means more than you could know to hear you say that." He just barely resisted the urge to add, finally. But he couldn't think beyond the journal. "Haley, about what you wrote…"

  She made a little sound of protest and closed her eyes. "Don't remind me."

  Again, he hunkered down before her. "It was thrilling to know you felt that way. That I wasn't the only one."

  "You told me you wouldn't do this thing between us. That you couldn't."

  "You know why I said that," he said gently.

  "It wasn't meant for you to see." Haley tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. This was, without a doubt, the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to her.

  He squeezed her hands, ran his thumbs over her knuckles. His gaze heated, holding hers. "When I read your words, something happened to me. Then I saw you standing there watching me and I could have devoured you alive. God, Haley, I've been dying to know what it would be like to be with you since that night we danced in the rain. You felt so good, wrapped around me—"

  "Stop it," she said quickly, his words making her heart tattoo against her chest. She dropped her spinning head to their joined hands. "This is very embarrassing, you have to know that."

  "Because you're as attracted to me as I am to you?" He loosened their hands to frame her face, lifting it. "That's one of those silly-girl things, isn't it? Wanting to keep it a secret?"

  "Stop it," she said miserably, rolling her eyes when he smiled. "This isn't funny."

  "No," he agreed. "But then, neither is the fact that I want you more than I've wanted anyone since Lorraine died. I didn't think I could want again, but I do. And I'm glad, so glad. You've opened me up, brought me back to the living. I want so much, Haley. And I want it with you."

  What exactly did that wonderful man see in her? And could she see enough in herself to even give it a chance? "You've read my innermost thoughts. I'm not sure how to deal with that."

  He rose and sat next to her, his weight dipping the bed down a little. His hands rested on either side of her hips. "It was wrong for me to read what you'd written and I apologize for that. But when you ran off, I got worried."

  "So you just came on in? Didn't it occur to you I wanted to be alone?"

  "I was worried," he repeated. "When I flipped on the light, I saw the yellow paper in the trash. My name just sort of stuck out at me. I shouldn't have, but I read it. I know it makes you uncomfortable and I understand that you are a woman who doesn't easily share herself. What I don't understand is why."

  Now she had to look away. This was uncharted territory for her. Just as everything else with this man had been. "I've told you. I'm sort of a loner. I always have been. I like it that way."

  "I don't believe that."

  "It's true." She gave a little laugh that even to her own ears sounded high and nervous. Just sitting close to him did that to her, but now she had the added disadvantage of Cam knowing exactly how badly she'd wanted him. "I don't get along well with others," she said uneasily. "Just ask any of the teachers I've had over the years."

  "Maybe no one gave you a chance."

  That was just close enough to the truth to have her taking a deep breath.

  "I hate to see you hurting so." He touched her, his fingers brushing over her forehead. "And I hate to think I had a hand in causing that headache."

  She took a deep breath and spoke the honest truth. "It's gone." Facing him on her bed, where she'd lain dreaming about him so often, seemed a bit unreal. She caught sight of her journal lying on the floor near where Max was sprawled out, asleep.

  "No," he murmured, touching her face until she turned it back to him. "Don't relive it. You'll make me feel bad again."

  She lifted an eyebrow, but caught his smile. "You don't strike me as a man who would brood for long."

  "Only when it comes to you."