JAKrentz - Witchcraft (4 page)

"But you called me today."

"I almost called you," she corrected firmly. "I kept changing my mind because I kept realizing how foolish it was to take that thing too seriously!' He sent her an assessing glance. "I'm here now." "I told you two months ago that there was absolutely no need for you to feel you owed me anything!"

"I rather thought it would be money," he said musingly. She glared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I somehow assumed that when you decided to collect on the debt, it would be money you'd want."

"I certainly don't need any of your money!" she exploded tightly. "The Amy Solitaire books do all right?"

"They do just fine, thank you. "I couldn't be sure," he explained gently, examining the inside of the beach cottage. "After all, you live way out here in the middle of nowhere, drive a ten-year-old car, dress in jeans that look about as ancient as the car--" He broke off with a shrug. "How was I to know your financial status?"

"I live out here because it suits me. Writers need lots of privacy and quiet, in case you didn't know. As for the car, well, I realize it's not exactly a late model Cadillac, but then I never did like
Cadillacs
. And the jeans happen to be very comfortable.

Writers like comfortable clothes," she added far too sweetly. "You're getting annoyed, aren't you?"

"Sharp of you to notice."

"You're also scared," he reminded her flatly. "Which brings us back to the issue at hand." He lifted the rose to examine it once again. "They haven't found the kidnappers, you know." Kimberly licked her lower lip a bit nervously. "I'd been rather hoping something had turned up."

"Not a thing. No leads, no clues, no descriptions other than that one you gave of the woman and Scott's insistence that he was being held by witches.

Nothing." She heard the hint of controlled savagery in his voice and drew in her breath. "it must be very frustrating," she suggested uneasily. The emerald eyes lifted from contemplation of the rose, and Kimberly found herself staring into the remorseless gaze of a predator.

In that moment she almost pitied the kidnappers. The realization of just how implacable this man would be when the people who had dared to threaten a member of his family were found was almost frightening.

"Frustrating is a mild term for what I feel whenever I consider the matter,"
Cavenaugh
informed her very evenly. Kimberly swallowed. "Yes.

I can see that."

"Sooner or later I'll have them."

"The kidnappers? I certainly hope so. But if the authorities have nothing to go on ... "

"I have my own people working on it."

"Your own people! What on earth do you mean?" she asked, startled. "Never mind." He set down the wine bottle with the rose and reached for the glass of Merlot he had been drinking. "At the moment we should be discussing your situation. I don't think we'll take any chances. Someone may be out to punish you for having gotten involved. It's possible they know or have figured out who it was who rescued Scott that night. Regardless of what's going on you'll be safest at the estate. Can you be packed and ready to go early in the morning?" Dumbfounded at the suggestion, Kimberly nearly choked on her own sip of wine. "Ready to go? That's impossible. I'm not going anywhere. I have eight chapters left to write on Vendetta and a deadline to meet. Furthermore, this is my home. I'm not about to leave it. I can't just pack up and move in with you until the kidnappers are found! For heaven's sake, this business with the rose is probably a totally unrelated incident."

"You can't be sure of that. If you had been sure you wouldn't have almost called me today. Even if the rose isn't related to the kidnapping, it's still quite deliberately vicious.

You'll be safest at the estate."

"No," Kimberly answered with absolute conviction. "It's kind of you to offer, but-"

"This is hardly a matter of kindness. I owe you, remember?" he shot back harshly. "Well, consider the debt c
anceled
!"

"That's not possible. I always pay my debts."

"I haven't asked that you pay this one," she protested violently. "You no longer have any choice in the matter."

"What on earth are you saying?" Kimberly leaped to her feet to confront him. "No one invited you here tonight. And no one is going to tell me what to do.

I've been on my own a long time,
Cavenaugh
, and I like it that way. I like it very much. The last thing I intend to do is move into a crowded, busy household such as yours and stay indefinitely. It would drive me crazy and I'd never get any work done." He stood up slowly, the light from the fire playing over the bluntly carved planes of his face. The shifting, golden shadows alternately revealed and veiled the visible signs of the force of his determination, but Kimberly could feel the impact of it on another level altogether and it made her shiver.

She wished with all her heart she hadn't made that phone call today. "It made little difference. I would have been here within a day or two, anyway," he assured her calmly as if he could read her mind. Kimberly didn't care for the ease with which he seemed able to interpret her thoughts. "Look,
Cavenaugh
, don't you understand that what you're suggesting just isn't practical?"

"You can bring your typewriter and anything else you need. There's plenty of room." She gritted her teeth.

"I don't want to go with you."

"I can see that." He reached out a hand to touch one of the curling tendrils of hair that had escaped the amber knot. "Are you more afraid of me than you are of whoever sent the rose?" he asked very softly. Mutely Kimberly stared up at him, aware of the controlled desire lying just below the surface of that green gaze.

She felt the answering response in her own body and shook her head wonderingly. "You want me, don't you?" she asked very carefully. "Is that why you're afraid of me?"
Cavenaugh
released the curl of amber hair to let his fingertips gently graze the line of her throat. Kimberly flinched at the intimate touch. "Yes." His gaze narrowed. "You're an adult, self-confident woman. Why does my wanting you make you afraid?"

She answered starkly as the fundamental truth came into her head.

"Because you can't have me. And I think you could be very dangerous,
Cavenaugh
, in a situation where you can't have something you want." His hand fell away but even though he was no longer touching her, Kimberly could feel the faint menace in him. It was controlled but nonetheless formidable. It made her want to flee. Until today she had never known such an instinctive desire to run, least of all from a man. "Why can't I have you, Kim?" The words were spoken with a deceptively silky edge.

She tried to keep her own voice calm and very matter-of-fact in an attempt to diffuse the stalking threat in him. "How about the trite, but true reason that you and I live in two different worlds?" Kimberly swung away from him, turning to face the hearth. "You are a man of property, community status, family responsibilities, commitments. You are tied to that winery and the people who live and work there just as much as they're tied to you. I understand how the demands of family and status and business all have to mesh for a man in your situation. I operate differently. I'm free. You're not. Whatever we might have together would, of necessity, have to be short-lived and unsatisfying.

At least from my point of view. Of course, from your angle a brief, passionate little affair with no future might be just what you'd like.

But I'm not willing to play the role of casual mistress for any man."

She could feel the intensity of his gaze b
urning
into her as he moved silently up behind her. His nearness made her tingle faintly. The knowledge annoyed her. "You are afraid of me, aren't you? And you have the nerve to call yourself free? I don't think you know the meaning of the word." Nervously Kimberly stepped away from him. "Please,
Cavenaugh
, this has gone far enough." He hesitated and then shrugged. "Perhaps you're right. For now. We have a more pressing issue at hand."

"The rose?"

"I was referring to the little matter of where I'm going to sleep tonight," he retorted dryly. "Or did you intend to send me out into the storm?" The wind howled with increased ferocity, and rain hammered against the windows as if to impress upon Kimberly what a cruel female she would be if she actually drove Darius
Cavenaugh
from her home on a night such as this. He gave her a small, crooked smile and all of a sudden her sense of perspective returned. "I wouldn't throw my worst enemy out on a night like this and you're hardly in that category, are you?" He shook his head, but the faint expression of amusement disappeared and he gave her a surprisingly serious look. "No. I'm not your enemy. Never that. We're bound together in some way, you and I."

"Because you feel you owe me something because of what I did for Scott."

"That's part of it. But who can always say why a man and a woman find themselves linked? There are other ties that bind," he reminded her softly. "Uh-huh. Ties of family and responsibility and status. I've already mentioned them. And none of those ties exist between you and me."
Cavenaugh
raised heavy black brows in sudden enlightenment.

"You're looking for a real life Josh Valerian, aren't you? Another self-sufficient, self-contained loner with no emotional ties or responsibilities to anyone other than you and himself." Kimberly was silent for a moment, mildly astonished at his perception, then she inclined her head austerely. "Every woman has a right to her fantasies."

"And your particular fantasy is of a man who will need and want only you,"
Cavenaugh
hazarded roughly. "A man whose loyalties are always one hundred percent with me," she agreed simply. "A man who is free to give me as much as I can give him." Kimberly shook off the assessing intent of his gaze and summoned a brisk smile. "And now about this little matter of where you will sleep tonight."
Cavenaugh
looked as though he was going to pursue the discussion of her "fantasy" man but the forbidding expression in her amber eyes must have stopped him. He bit back whatever words had been poised to attack and nodded once. "As we've already decided, I don't fall into the category of enemy. And as I'm not yet your lover-" Kimberly flushed at the easy way he began that last sentence and found herself rushing to interrupt. "I'll get some blankets from the closet. You can use the couch. I'll want your word of honor, however, that I'm not going to have to kick you out of my bedroom at any time during the night."

"Your hospitality overwhelms me."

"Sorry, but you're a little overwhelming, yourself," she confessed wryly. "And I've had an unsettling day." Humor flashed in the green eyes. "I take it you don't have many unsettling days?"

"Hardly. Another advantage to living alone,
Cavenaugh
. My days usually go exactly as I wish them to go."

"I think you're really quite spoiled, Kim."

"Thoroughly spoiled," she said with a quick laugh. "Believe me, I treasure the luxury of my independence. Now, back to your word of honor. Do I have it?"

"About not invading your bedroom? I would much prefer to be invited." She let that pass, assuming it was as close to a promise as she was going to get and fully aware of the fact that she wasn't about to force him back out into the storm tonight. He was not her enemy even though he represented a very ancient form of danger. Walking to the hall closet she opened it and began pulling down sheets and blankets. "One pillow or two?"

"One will do." He caught the pillow she tossed at him, his hand moving in an almost negligent gesture that betrayed an easy sense of coordination.

"Kim, about your coming home with me in the morning," he began quietly.

"In the morning you'll be on your way back to the
Cavenaugh
Vineyards.

Alone. How many quilts do you want?"

"One," he ordered, sounding irritated. "Kim, you were right to be nervous about that damn rose.

We're going to take precautions."

"I'll take them."

"You called on me to protect you" he reminded her grimly. "No, I did not call on you. I considered calling you, and at a few points during the day I almost did call you. But in the end I never actually asked for any help, did I,
Cavenaugh
? You keep forgetting that. You're here because you decided all on your own to drive over to the coast, not because I yelled for help."

"You're being unreasonable about this and with any luck by morning you'll have calmed down enough to realize it."
Cavenaugh
shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and regarded her with ominous warning. Kim refused to be browbeaten. She had been taking care of herself too long to allow herself to be intimidated by any man.

"That expression may be very effective on little Scott or on one of your employees who is late for work, but that's the limit of its usefulness, I'm afraid. It doesn't have any effect on me at all."

"I keep asking myself how Josh Valerian would handle this,"
Cavenaugh
murmured just as Kimberly swept past the counter where the buff-colored envelope from the Los Angeles law office had been lying. "He'd know when to stop pushing," Kimberly advised. The trailing corner of the quilt she was carrying in her arms caught the envelope and nudged it over the counter edge. "He'd know when to stop because of this uncanny communication he shares with Amy Solitaire, I take it."
Cavenaugh
watched the envelope drop to the floor and moved forward to retrieve it. "You don't have to sound so scornful. The relationship between Amy and Josh is going to help sell a lot of books."