Ian was certain that a tiny little man with a great big hammer was trying to get out of his skull. The pounding centered in his temples and radiated upward to the top of his throbbing head. He attempted to move, and the pain shot through his brain like a red-hot pinball racking up championship points.
Very, very carefully, he opened his eyes, then slammed them shut again when he felt the burn of sunlight on his eyeballs. He imagined that vampires went through the same agony when their skin met daylight.
He reached for his pillow, but found empty air instead.
Confused, he shifted his weight from his back to his side, then gave a strangled yelp as he fell face first onto the floor. With a groan he opened his eyes again, blinked several times until the room came into focus.
What the hell was he doing on the sofa in the living room? Well, actually, he was now on the floor, if a person wanted to get technical. He just couldn’t quite remember how he happened to be here.
Closing his eyes, he laid his cheek on the cool hardwood and drew in several slow breaths. When the pain in his head began to ease, he rolled to his back and carefully opened his eyes to stare up at the open-beam pine ceiling.
On a groan he closed his eyes again.
And remembered.
Damn.
Cara’s phone call, her bashing his head in. Her fingers sliding over his scalp, the feel of her soft, silky skin under his hands and mouth…
Oh, yes, he remembered, all right. In detail. He’d downed half a bottle of whisky after that, trying to wash the sweet taste of her out of his system. The need and the longing. It hadn’t worked, of course. And now he had to pay the consequences of his stupidity. Stupidity that went much farther than a cotton-dry mouth and pounding skull.
Some girls will do anything for twenty bucks.
Swearing, he sat slowly, brought his legs up and rested his pulsating head on his knees. What had possessed him to say something so completely out of line? He knew she hadn’t pretended someone was breaking into her cabin just to get him over there. She might have lied to him the first time he’d laid eyes on her, when he’d caught her watching him from across the lake, but she’d been honest since then. She wasn’t the kind of woman who played coy games of seduction, and even as much as she wanted him to come to Philadelphia, he didn’t believe for a second she’d go to bed with him as a means of persuasion.
So why had he said it?
He could still see the slash of hurt and shock on her face when he’d accused her of lying. She’d recovered quickly, her face expressionless as she’d stared him square in the eye and asked him to leave. He wished she’d yelled at him, cried, hit him with that frying pan again—anything but given him that cold, empty stare.
Well, fine then, he thought irritably, lifting his head and testing the extent of the damage he’d done to himself. Maybe he’d be rid of her now. Maybe she’d stop bothering him about going to Philadelphia to meet Margaret. He was sure she was a nice old lady, but he wasn’t going. Nothing, and no one, was going to change that.
When the phone rang from the end table beside the sofa, he covered his ears and moaned. He wasn’t going to answer it. He didn’t want to talk to Jordan, she’d only increase the throbbing in his head with one of her tirades. It might be Nick, though, calling to remind him about dinner tonight at Lucas and Julianna’s house, but Ian decided he definitely needed some aspirin before talking to Nick.
But what if it was someone else, someone with fiery green eyes and silky blond hair…
He had to crawl to the phone, which seemed fitting if it was Cara. He picked it up on the fourth ring.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, because that was all he could manage given the dust-dry state of his mouth.
“That you, Ian?”
“Walt?” The mechanic’s drawl was unmistakable.
“The one and only. You still sleeping at eleven o’clock, son?”
He hadn’t realized how late it was. “You call for a reason, or just to see what my sleeping habits are?”
Walt’s chuckle was deep and gravelly. “Well, I tried calling Miss Sinclair first, but couldn’t get an answer. I thought it might be important, so seein’s how you’re friends and all—”
“Walt,” Ian said with a sigh, “could you please get to the point?”
Ian’s eyes narrowed tightly as he listened. When he hung up, he uttered one seemingly appropriate word, then headed straight for the bedroom to get dressed.
He had to find Cara. Now.
Cara sat on the soft, leaf-covered ground and leaned back against a tree stump. The cabin walls had closed in on her, and without a car, her only other escape was the forest.
With a sigh she closed her eyes and rested her head back against the tree stump. The late-morning air was warm, but not unbearable as it had been earlier in the week. The scent of dried leaves and pine surrounded her, carried on the soft breeze that lifted the ends of her hair.
She’d thought about giving up. Maybe asking the honeymoon couple or the father and son to give her a lift into town where she could wait until her car was repaired, then drive to the airport and take the first plane out. Lord knew it would be easier than dealing with Ian. But then, walking back to Philadelphia would be easier than dealing with Ian.
But Cara knew she couldn’t leave, any more than she could give up. Margaret was too important to her. Cara had told her friend that she’d bring her grandson home, and she wouldn’t leave until every last card was played.
She’d hit a button with him last night. She’d gotten too close to the truth when she’d told him he was afraid he might come to care for Margaret. That’s why he’d lashed out at her as he had. A man like Killian Shawnessy took pride in his independence and I-hunt-alone attitude. The birthday cards that Margaret had sent put a chink in his armor, and he didn’t like it one little bit. It took a lot of the sting out of the insult he’d tossed at her, but she’d be lying to say it didn’t still hurt.
She’d never been one to hold grudges or stay angry, but in Ian’s case, Cara decided she would make an exception. She’d like nothing better than to shove him over a cliff. But maybe just a short one, instead of the deep canyon she’d visualized last night.
And it made her all the more angry that even after what he’d said to her, she still wanted his mouth on her mouth, still wanted his hands on her body.
Damn you, Killian Shawnessy.
“There you are.”
Her eyes flew open at the deep sound of his voice so close to her. The man was quiet as a mouse—no, make that a snake, she amended. And how had he found her, anyway?
She felt a small amount of satisfaction that he looked ragged around the edges. His hair hadn’t been combed, his jeans and red flannel shirt were wrinkled, his eyes were bloodshot, and he hadn’t shaved.
And he still looked sexy as hell, blast it.
But strangely enough, he also looked angry.
“Where have you been?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It was a simple question.” Jamming his hands on his hips, he marched toward her. “Where have you been?”
Obviously in the Twilight Zone, she thought in amazement. What else could explain his bizarre behavior? “I fail to see how where I am or where I’ve been is any business of yours.”
“You’ve been gone for hours.” Frowning, he stood over her. “People get lost up here if they don’t stay on the paths. They didn’t find one guy named Wallace Walker for six months. All that was left of him were bones and a pair of sunglasses.”
“Interesting image.” If he was trying to scare her, it was working. “And how would you know I’ve been gone for hours?”
“Walt’s been trying to reach you. Look, Cara, we need to talk.” He held out a hand to help her up. “Let’s go back to the cabin.”
She ignored his hand. “Why has Walt been trying to reach me? Is my car ready? Oh, no.” She closed her eyes and moaned. “Please don’t tell me it’s not ready. It’s not, is it? Damn! I can’t—”
“Cara—”
“—be without a car—”
“Cara—”
“—until next week, I’ve got to-“Cara!”
He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. Startled into silence, she stared at him. “What?”
“Somebody messed with your car.”
“Messed with my car? You mean it was vandalized at Walt’s shop?”
“Before you had it towed to Walt’s. He found evidence that your rear brakes were tampered with. That’s why they failed.”
It took a long moment for his words to sink in, and still she didn’t understand. Maybe she had hit him over the head too hard last night. She frowned, then laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“No more ridiculous than someone trying to break into your cabin last night.”
“You don’t know that.” Now he was really stretching it. “That could have been an animal.”
He let go of her arms, then reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a safety pin. “I found this on your porch this morning.”
She looked at the safety pin, then cocked an eyebrow at him. “And your point is what? That all burglars are prepared for emergency clothing repairs?”
“The end is sanded smooth, which makes it a tool for picking locks.” He slipped it back into his pocket. “I also found fresh bootprints that didn’t belong to you or me.”
The breeze picked up, scattering leaves at their feet. A slow chill slithered up her spine. “You’re making this up to scare me off.”
He shook his head. “You can call Walt and ask him yourself if you don’t believe me.”
She didn’t believe this, not any of it. It was insane. But she had locked her door last night, she was certain of it, and it had been unlocked when Ian came in.
“What are you saying? That someone wants to hurt me? I don’t know anyone in Wolf River besides—” Her eyes widened suddenly as she stared at him. She put a hand to her throat, took a step backward.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Sinclair—” he rolled his eyes “—it isn’t me.”
She released the breath she’d been holding, felt silly that she’d considered the possibility. “Well, you gotta admit. I have made you pretty mad.”
“Blondie, as far as I’m concerned,” he said dryly, “you haven’t even come close to seeing mad, but you’ve definitely pushed the wrong button on someone.”
She thought about the cliff her car had almost gone over, the prowler at her cabin. That was one hell of a big button. But it just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.
“I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “This is Wolf River. Why would anyone here go to such extremes to harm me?”
“Maybe it isn’t anyone from Wolf River.” He stared at her thoughtfully. “Didn’t you tell me it was your job to uncover insurance and company fraud? You said you were good at it. I have to assume you have an inventory of unhappy victims.”
She did, of course, though the people she’d exposed didn’t know who she was. But if someone found out—she felt her pulse skip at the thought—well, they wouldn’t exactly be inviting her over for Thanksgiving dinner.
Still, it was just too far out-there.
“It doesn’t make sense.” She blew out a breath and dragged a hand through her hair. “Why would someone go to the extra expense and trouble to follow me all the way up here? Why wouldn’t they just go after me in Philadelphia?”
“Maybe because there’d be less of a connection,” Ian suggested. “Especially if you lost control of your car and ended up at the bottom of a canyon. It would just look like an accident.”
“Breaking into my cabin wouldn’t look like an accident,” she insisted. “The authorities would know it was intentional.”
“You’re leaving in two days. Maybe they’re getting desperate and don’t care. There’d be no witnesses, and if there were no clues, there’d be nothing to trace back.”
She couldn’t believe she was standing here, analyzing how and why someone might kill her. When a twig broke in the brush behind them, she flew into Ian’s arms. A squirrel ran out of the brush, sat up and twitched its tail at them before darting off again. She let out a long, slow breath.
Embarrassed at her skittishness, Cara forced a soft laugh and placed her palms on Ian’s chest to push away.
He tugged her back.
She could feel the heat of his body through his clothes, it poured into her, seeped into her blood. Her knees felt weak, her skin felt hot and tight.
How could this be happening? One minute they were discussing someone’s plot to murder her, and in the blink of an eye, she was melting in his arms.
“Cara,” he said her name softly.
“Hmm?” She stared at her hands on his chest. His flannel shirt felt soft under her fingers.
“I was out of line last night. I shouldn’t have said what I said.” He drew in a deep breath. “Maybe you were right, just a little. Maybe I don’t like the idea of having the responsibility of a family.”
Surprised not only at his apology, but at his admission she might be right, she looked up at him.
“Come to Philadelphia with me, Ian,” she said quietly. “Just meet Margaret, that’s all. No strings attached, no guilt if you decide not to see her again.”
He shook his head slowly. “I can’t go to Philadelphia.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.” He reached up and snagged a leaf from her hair, then softly stroked it over her jaw. She cursed the involuntary shudder that vibrated through her body.
“In the meantime,” he said, “why don’t I take you into town to talk to the sheriff?”
“Talk to the sheriff about what? That maybe someone tampered with my car and maybe someone tried to break into my cabin? What can they do?” She thought about all the paperwork, the wasted time. “I’m only here two more days, I can be careful. I’ll go to the police when I get back home.”
“If you live that long.” He sighed heavily. “All right, then, get your bag packed.”
“Didn’t you hear me, Shawnessy? I’m not going anywhere. I refuse to be scared off, and I’m not giving up on you, either.”
He hesitated at her words, then raised a brow. “But you are going somewhere, Blondie. You’re moving in with me.”
She’d argued, of course, but he won. She might be stubborn as a mule, Ian mused, but she wasn’t stupid. If someone was after her, she’d be a sitting duck up in the mountains alone. Reluctantly, she’d finally given in and moved her things over to his place.
He still couldn’t believe he had even considered moving her in with him, let alone insisted on it. What he should have done was to tie her up again, good and tight this time, and mail her back to Philadelphia. He smiled at the image, thinking that he wouldn’t want to be the person who opened up that box.
But he had insisted she stay, just as he’d insisted she come to dinner with him tonight at Lucas and Julianna’s. She argued heatedly over that, too, insisted she’d be intruding on a private get-together. But in the end, he’d won that round, too, and now, deep in a conversation with Maggie, she sat beside him at the dinner table.
He had to admit she looked pretty tonight. She’d worn a rose-pink silk blouse and tucked it into the narrow waist of her tailored white slacks. She’d done something different with her hair, brushed the sides away from her face and clipped them together in the back. The style emphasized her high cheekbones, and the touch of cosmetics she’d applied to her eyes made them look wider, softer. If a man wasn’t being careful, it would be easy to drown in those eyes. But of course, he was being careful. Very careful.
He just felt some strange, twisted sense of obligation toward her. That was the only reason he’d insisted she move into his cabin and come to dinner with him, he reasoned. She was here in Wolf River because of him, and he simply wanted to see her get back home in one piece.
He’d made inquiries into the occupants of the other cabins, but so far, no one was suspect. The honeymoon couple had checked into their cabin before Cara had even arrived, the father and son appeared legitimate, and the other two cabins rented were locals. Whoever was following her was hiding well.
But whoever was after her, wouldn’t stop here. Ian knew they’d follow her back to Philadelphia, and once she left Wolf River, there was nothing he could do to protect her.
But someone else could. He’d already made a phone call that would ensure she’d be taken care of once she returned home. But she didn’t need to know about that right now.
She’d find out soon enough, and she wasn’t going to like it one little bit.
In the meantime, he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. He almost laughed at the irony of it all.
“Hello. Earth to Ian. Would you like some carrots?”
“Huh?” He blinked, then realized that Julianna was speaking to him from the other side of the Blackhawk dining room table. “Oh, sure. Thanks.”
“You look like you got a bone stuck in your craw, Shawnessy. Hey, Cara,” Lucas said from his place at the head of the table, “maybe you should slap him hard on the cheek, just in case.”
“I think you’re supposed to punch him in the stomach,” Nick offered. “Makes that bone shoot out like a missile.”
“Really?” Drew, Nick’s five-year-old son asked excitedly. “Can I watch?”
Ian shook his head at their nonsense, while Maggie and Julianna rolled their eyes. Cara laughed, and in spite of himself, he couldn’t help but think that the sound was like music.
Shocked that he would even have a thought like that, Ian frowned darkly. Good Lord, all this hearts and flowers stuff surrounding him must be rubbing off. He speared a big bite of carrots and concentrated on the food rather than the enticing scent of raspberries drifting from Cara.
“Thank you all for allowing me to join you tonight,” Cara said, and looked at Lucas and Julianna, then Nick and Maggie. “I know this was a special celebration. I hope I haven’t intruded.”
“We’re glad you could join us.” Maggie glanced at Nick, and the tender look they exchanged baffled Ian. Seeing Lucas take the fall was bad enough, but Nick…Geez, what was the world coming to?
“We’d love to have you come to the wedding tomorrow, as well,” Maggie added with a smile. “In fact, we insist.”
Cara shook her head. “I couldn’t impose on you like that.”
“She’ll be there,” Ian said flatly.
Her cheeks flushed pink. “I appreciate the offer, really, but I didn’t bring a dress on this trip.”
“What’s wrong with what you’ve got on?” Ian ladled some gravy on a big mound of mashed potatoes. “It looks fine.”
“So like a man.” Julianna sighed with exasperation. “Don’t worry about a dress. We’re about the same size, at least, I used to be your size—” she glanced down at her twins sleeping in their carriers beside her chair, then smiled. “Everything’s so snug now I may have to hire Omar the tent maker to redo my wardrobe.”
Lucas took his wife’s hand and kissed it. “You looked damn good last night in that—”
“That’s enough, Lucas. There’s a child present.” Julianna’s face turned bright red.
“I’m not a child.” Drew pouted while he shoved carrots under a pile of potatoes. “I’m going to be in kindergarten.”
Maggie patted her son’s hand. “Aunt Julianna was talking about your father, dear.”
Julianna smiled and turned back to Cara. “Don’t worry about a dress. I have something that’s perfect for you. After dinner we’ll go upstairs and you can try it on.”
Cara started to open her mouth to protest, and Ian flashed her a dark look. She pressed her lips tightly together and smiled. “Thank you,” she said to Julianna. “That’s very nice of you.”
“Ian says you’re from Philadelphia,” Maggie said. “Do you have family there?”
“My parents both passed away, but I have four brothers.” Cara sipped on a glass of red wine. “Gabe’s the oldest and most serious. He scowls a lot, but he’s really a pussycat. He actually reminds me a lot of Ian.”
Nick and Lucas barked with laughter, while Maggie and Julianna pressed their napkins to their mouths to hide their smiles. Ian glared at them all.
“See,” Cara said sweetly and looked straight at Ian. “Isn’t that furrow in his brow adorable?”
“Just the word I would have used,” Lucas said, struggling to control himself. “What do you think, Santos?”
“No question, he’s adorable,” Nick grinned at Ian. “What do you ladies think?”
Both Maggie and Julianna nodded. “Adorable,” they both said at the same time.
“I think so, too,” Drew added, giggling.
Eyes sparkling, Cara looked at Ian and smiled wide. Ian decided that she no longer had to worry about anyone killing her. He was going to do the job himself.
“Then there’s Callan,” Cara went on when the laughter finally quieted down. “He’s the quiet one, but intense. Lucian is next, he’s the hothead, but cools down as fast as he explodes. And Reece, well, he’s always cheerful unless you make him mad. Not an easy thing to do, but I’ve managed to master the ability.”
Ian already felt a kinship with at least one of her brothers. He knew firsthand that Cara Sinclair could turn the calmest man into a raving madman.
“Your family sounds wonderful,” Maggie said while cutting a piece of roast into bite-size pieces for her son. “Maybe we’ll get to meet them one day.”
“Philadelphia is a great city. Everyone should go there at least once in their life.” She swiveled a glance at Ian. “Don’t you think so?”
“There are a lot of places a person should go once,” Ian said. “And some places a person shouldn’t go at all.”
“Well, a person wouldn’t know they shouldn’t go, unless they went.” She aimed a smile at him. “Would they?”
Ian started to respond, but little Drew spoke first. “Uncle Ian told my Daddy that he’s going to Guyro next week for three months,” the boy said around a bite of roast. “Is that far?”
The room went quiet and everyone exchanged quick glances. Cara looked up, then lifted a brow as her gaze settled on Ian. “Guyro?”
“Cairo.” Damn, he thought Drew had been absorbed in a video game on the TV when he’d been talking to Nick and Lucas in the den earlier. “I have business there.”
“You export cellular phones to Cairo?”
“I’m considering the possibility.”
“You’re going to Cairo, for three months, to consider selling phones there? And you never mentioned this to me?”
Ian shifted uncomfortably under Cara’s narrowed gaze. If this went any further, it would look like a lovers’ spat. Hell, it already did, he thought with irritation.
But nobody here knew who Cara really was, or why she was here. And this most certainly wasn’t the time to tell everyone. He hadn’t even decided yet if he was going to tell them at all. Let them assume she was upset he was leaving because she cared about him, he decided. What difference did it make, anyway?
He smiled at Cara, a slow, knowing smile that only lovers share, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Will you miss me, darling?”
Green flames shot from her eyes, but she forced a smile. “I was looking forward to showing you a few sights in Philadelphia. One in particular, that won’t always be there.”
“I think we should all go,” Drew said around a mouthful of potatoes. “Families are supposed to take trips and be together.”
Cara’s smile widened, and she held his steady gaze. “From the mouths of babes,” she said softly.
It’s a conspiracy, he thought with a sigh, deciding to keep silent while everyone chatted about the wedding plans tomorrow. Hell, every time he opened his mouth, it got him into trouble, anyway.
When they finished eating, Lucas suggested cigars on the patio, but Julianna shook her head.
“Later, sweetheart. Maggie and I are taking Cara upstairs, and you boys have dish duty. We’ll have coffee and dessert when we come back down.”
Dish duty? Ian grinned at Lucas, who seemed to take Julianna’s order in stride. He was already stacking dirty plates. And damn if Nick wasn’t helping.
Not this boy, Ian thought, and started to back out of the dining room.
“Ian.”
Julianna stopped him. She’d scooped up one tiny pink bundle in one arm, and a blue bundle in the other. “You’ve got baby detail.”
Before he could get a word out, she’d deposited one baby in each of his arms, kissed his cheek and ushered the women upstairs. Lucas and Nick grinned at him, then hustled out of the dining room, their arms full.
Alone. They’d left him alone. With two babies.
Panic slammed into his ribs. He couldn’t breathe. Not this, anything but this. He’d disarmed a terrorist’s bomb in Sudan, jumped from airplanes at thirty thousand feet into enemy territory, been shot at too many times to remember. And that all seemed like a piece of cake next to holding these little bundles in his arms.
Desperate, he looked up and saw Cara watching him from the doorway.
“You look a little pale, Shawnessy.” A smile touched her pink lips. “Something wrong?”
“I—” He had to clear his throat. “I don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Babies,” he croaked.
“But you are,” she said sweetly. “ And a fine job you’re doing.”
“Couldn’t you…can’t you…” He was too scared to move, but his look implored.
“Sorry. My hands are full. Unless, of course…”
“Anything,” he pleaded. “Just name it.”
“Anything?”
Knowing exactly where this was headed, he frowned fiercely. “You’re a wicked woman, Sinclair.”
She laughed at that. “Compliments will get you everywhere, darling. See you for dessert.”
When she turned on her pretty heels and walked away, he almost caved in and told her he’d go to Philadelphia with her.
Sweat dampened his brow as he stared at the babies in his arms. They couldn’t weigh more than a feather each, their bodies were hardly bigger than his hands. The blue bundle was sleeping, but the pink one was wide awake. Her eyes, surrounded by thick, dark lashes, were big and blue, her skin the palest pink. She smelled brand-new, clean and freshly dusted with powder. She yawned a tiny perfect little O with her tiny perfect little lips, then looked right at him with her great big eyes and smiled.
His chest felt strange, like he’d swallowed a balloon. The baby smiled again, this time adding a soft little cooing sound, and the balloon inside him swelled.
He blinked several times, then glanced around. When he was certain he was alone and no one was watching, he looked back at the fragile little bundle in his arms and surprised himself by smiling back.
This time she not only smiled, she laughed.
God help me, he thought miserably, and sank down on a dining room chair. For the first time in his life he envied another man.