Into the Arms of a Cowboy (8 page)

He picked up the phone from a table next to the couch – no cell phone, Cassie noticed; probably no signal here – and left
a message with someone at his office. Cassie watched him from the corner of her eye. She was letting paranoia get the better of her, obviously. Jess’s deputy would hardly ask whether any murderers had hitched a ride in his truck lately. Still, she couldn’t suppress a fearful shiver.  

Jess watched as Cassie folded out the couch, made up the bed with hospital corners, and heated a can of beef stew. Moments later, she set a tray before him, a tray complete with soup, bread, ice water, silverware, and a paper napkin.

“You’ve done this before,” he said, as he picked up his spoon.

“Done what?”

“What do you do for a living? Are you a nurse?”

She shook her head. “Not even close.”

“But you have taken care of a sick person, haven’t you?”

Cassie squeezed her eyes shut. Not that she could ever hope block out the dizzying images. Her mother sprawled on the bathroom floor. Passed
out on the couch. Locked in her
own bedroom, reeking of gin and vomit. For a moment, Cassie could almost smell it again--the odor of failure, of despair, of a childhood lost.

She felt Jess’s warm fingers on her own, then his strong, callused palms cradling her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Cassie sucked in a deep, steadying breath. “I--it’s all right. Yes, I took care of someone for years, a person who was very ill. And then I wasn’t there to take care of her, and she--
she
died.”

“I’m sorry,” Jess repeated. His eyes were dark pools of sympathy, tempting her to say more. But she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t tell him who she was. She stood up and pulled her hand from his.

“Finish your dinner,” she said, in a voice made husky by unshed tears. “I’ll take Harry his food and water now.”

Later, after Jess dozed off, Cassie helped herself to the rest of the stew. While the hot meal helped settle her stomach, it did little to soothe her frayed nerves. Jess’s questions had stirred up memories and emotions she preferred to bury. She’d moved to San Francisco to escape her past, to remake herself. Sometimes, though, the pain of her childhood surfaced when she least expected it.

Cassie sighed, crossed to the sink, and ran it full of hot water. Then she began a systematic search of Jess’s kitchen. Whenever this mournful mood struck her, there was only one sure cure.

Chocolate.

Rich, creamy, fattening chocolate. Chocolate ice cream. Chocolate kisses. Dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, chocolate with rice
crispies
or peanut butter or almonds inside. Hershey’s, Nestle,
Ghiradelli
, Godiva--it didn’t matter, as long as it melted sweetly on her tongue and boosted her
phenylethylamine
levels.

Of course, she knew better than to medicate herself with food. She’d spent a good part of her childhood hiding under extra layers of fat, pretending an extra helping of everything could make all her problems go away. Since then, she’d learned moderation.

Still, chocolate was her one indulgence. She couldn’t live without it. Even the thought of
Häagen-Dazs
ice cream or Tollhouse cookies brought a blissful smile to her face.

One minor problem, though. She came up empty handed.

Nothing in the cupboards. Nothing in the freezer. Not so much as a stray Snickers bar or a stale Oreo. Oh, Jess wasn’t exactly a health-food fanatic. She found a bag of Fritos, a package of Nutter Butters, and a whole gallon of strawberry ice cream.

“Men,” she muttered under her breath, in the disgusted tone of voice she usually reserved for dumb TV sitcoms and really bad drivers. She would never understand the male species. Strawberry. Yuck.

She indulged in a couple of the peanut-shaped cookies instead, which provided a sugar rush but failed to quiet her cocoa cravings. She left the dishes to soak in the kitchen sink. It was barely 8 o’clock, but after a frantic night and a day in the sun, her eyelids kept slipping toward half-mast.

After helping herself to a clean T-shirt from the closet--and noting with a jolt of fear the star-shaped sheriff’s logo emblazoned on Jess’s tan uniform shirts--she showered and got ready for bed.

Before she mounted the ladder to the loft, however, she paused to check on Jess. He lay on his side, the hard planes of his face shadowed and golden in the glow of a single lamp. He slept with one arm pillowing his head, the other flung back behind his
body. Relaxed, he looked years younger, almost vulnerable despite his broad shoulders and obvious strength. Even as she turned away, an unexpected wave of tenderness swept through Cassie.

She climbed the ladder and found a cozy bed tucked under the sharp angle of the roof. Bent over to avoid banging her head on the rafters, she set the digital alarm clock on the bedside table. It would be a long night. Dr. Liu had given clear instructions about waking Jess every two hours to make sure the head injury hadn’t worsened.

Cassie crawled under Jess’s quilt. She curled into a fetal position while she waited for the sheets to warm up. The pillowcases, though clean, smelled faintly of Jess’s musky cologne. The ache of need intensified, made all the more confusing because she wasn’t sure what it was she needed.

Sex? But that would definitely lead to complications. Such as emotional involvement. Even love. And, to put it mildly, she and Jess didn’t have much of a future together. He was a cop. She was a fugitive. Not exactly a match made in heaven.

Outside, it had begun to rain. The heavy drops pounded the roof like hailstones. Cassie tossed and turned on the too-firm mattress. What a mess. What a miserable, complicated, world-class mess.

In spite of her exhaustion, sleep came hard that night.

“Jess? You okay in there?” Cassie called through the bathroom door.

Jess shut off the hot water, grabbed a towel, and hopped from the shower, keeping his bandaged, plastic-wrapped ankle clear of the floor. Cassie took her nursing duties seriously, maybe too seriously. He vaguely remembered her shaking him awake several times during the night to check his pupils. “I’m fine,” he hollered back. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be out.”

In fact, he did feel better. His headache had faded to a faint, unpleasant throb in the back of his skull. Even the ankle didn’t hurt too badly. He glanced down at his bare chest. The bloody tracks across his ribcage had scabbed over already.

She rapped on the door. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Jess scowled into the medicine cabinet mirror. Maybe he should invite her in for a second shower. Ask her to soap his back. The possibility intrigued him. It also provoked a very powerful, very male response. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he yelled, chuckling.

He shaved, then pulled on a pair of clean shorts. When he swung himself out of the bathroom on his crutches he found Cassie still lurking at the door. She wore nothing but one of his faded T-shirts, though on her it was large enough to skim the top of her kneecaps. Her sleep-tousled hair fell down her back. A sexy flush warmed her pale skin, and he noticed that the bruise on her cheekbone was a shade lighter today.

“Cassie, I’m okay, really,” he said.

Her eyes widened as she surveyed the cuts on his bare torso. “Oh, how awful! How did that happen?”

“That damn bull kicked me. A glancing blow, or else I’d have broken ribs or worse.” He shrugged. “No big deal.”

“No big deal? How can you say that?” She stepped closer, frowning. She lifted one hand and lightly stroked the wounds with her fingertips. Her touch ignited trails of fire across his skin and created a dark, heavy ache in his groin. Jess groaned aloud.

She jerked her hand away. Her head snapped back, too. Her eyes were wide and innocent. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Jess caught her hand and drew it back to his chest. He raked his gaze across Cassie’s face, studying her expression. Was she really so inexperienced, so naive, that she didn’t understand his response to her touch? He was willing to bet Cassie’s innocence wasn’t an act, but he’d been fooled before. Made a fool of, to be more exact. “You didn’t hurt me,” he whispered. “God, Cassie, don’t you know what you do to me?”

“I--no, I--” She broke off, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. The gesture nearly snapped the last thread of Jess’s
self control
.

She was vulnerable. Troubled. A complete mystery. He shouldn’t kiss her. But he couldn’t step back, either. Some powerful force froze him there with her hand in his, her palm flat against his chest.

“Jess,” she said. His name broke from her lips in a tortured sigh. She stepped closer. He felt her breath on his mouth. His eyes locked on hers. It would be so easy to close the gap, to gather her in his arms and crush her body to his. So easy to forget the many reasons he shouldn’t.

He closed his eyes and turned his head away. The slight movement took every last ounce of his strength.

“Jess?”

“
Darlin
’, we can’t--”

The throb of an engine and the crunch of gravel in the driveway made them both jump. Jess peered out the window just as the engine abruptly cut off. “Gus,” he said, half disappointed, half relieved by the interruption. He grabbed a shirt, balanced on one leg as he pulled it over his head, then glanced out the window again. “Looks like he brought us some groceries.”

As it turned out, Gus was delivering two sacks full of food as well as more clean clothes for Cassie. She thanked him and, while the men unloaded the supplies, headed for the bathroom to change.

“So, how’s it going with the little lady?” Gus asked, the minute Cassie was out of earshot.

Jess rolled his eyes as he crouched down and shoved a head of lettuce into the crisper on the bottom of the fridge. “Figures that would be the first question out of your mouth. Aren’t you even going to ask me about my ankle and my head, or how I’m managing on these damn crutches?”

“You look just fine to me.” Gus’s blue eyes twinkled. “How are you two lovebirds
gettin
’ along?”

“I told you, we’re not--I’m not--” Jess broke off, flustered, as he remembered the tender scene Gus had interrupted. “She’s just making sure I’m all right. She’ll probably leave soon.”

Gus frowned. “You
ain’t
chasin
’ her off, are you, boy? I didn’t say nothing about all those other ladies who would’ve liked to call themselves Mrs. Logan over the last couple years, but then, none of them measured up to this one.”

“Drop it, Gus,” Jess ordered, in a threatening tone. Much as he loved his uncle and mentor, his love life--or lack of one--was his own business.

“I’m just
sayin
’,” Gus said stubbornly, as he stowed a carton of ice cream bars in the freezer, “that you don’t want to let this one get away.”

“What about you? I don’t see you rushing to get married again.”

Gus shrugged. “Well, now, that’s different. I’d say the odds don’t favor me
findin
’ another woman like Patty. Of course, if I were ten years younger, I might give you a run for your money with Cassie.” He elbowed Jess right in the bruised ribs.

Jess let out a whoop of mingled pain and amusement. “Ten years younger?”

“All
right, thirty years younger.”

They traded insults for a few minutes before Cassie reappeared. She wore a white cable-knit sweater with a long skirt that buttoned down the front. She’d done up her hair in one braid that fell to the middle of her back.

“You look mighty
purty
this morning,” Gus said.

Cassie’s smile lit up the room. “Why, thank you, Gus.”

“Jess, don’t you think she looks
purty
?” the older man asked.

“Sure she does,” Jess muttered darkly. “Gus. . . .”

At that moment, a knock on the front door gave Jess a chance to escape Gus and his not-so-subtle hints. “I’ll get it,” he said, grabbing for his crutches.

A freckled girl of about 11 stood outside on the porch, clutching a shoebox to her skinny chest. Jess recognized the daughter of his next-door neighbor.

“Hi, Tanya,” he said. “What’ve you got there?”

“Baby raccoons. Three of them.” Her forehead creased with concern. “Mr. Logan, I found them on the ground, all wet and cold. I think they fell out of a tree or something. I waited for hours to see if their mama would come get them, but she never did. My daddy says you might know how to take care of them.”

“I’ll do what I can, Tanya. Come on in and let’s have a look.”

Four people crowded around the kitchen table as the girl set down her precious burden. Tanya lifted the lid. “They’re so small,” the girl said. “Their eyes are still closed, even.”

Cassie leaned over the box, her expression awed. “Oh, the little darlings! Look, you can already see their masks and the rings on their tails.”

Jess studied the tiny, lightly furred babies on their faded bath towel. All three could have easily fit in his palm. They were deaf as well as blind, their ears pressed tightly forward on their heads. “I’d say they’re about a week old. We’ll get them warmed up, feed them, and see what happens.”