Books by Maggie Shayne (8 page)

In his eyes she'd seen something she'd never seen before.

Adesperation, a ple he couldn't or wouldn't or didn't know how to. voice Help me, Alexandra.

Maybe he wasn't even aware of it, but Torch Palamaro was going to bleed to death from the arrows in his heart if he didn't pull them out and start 'to heal.

He'd released a tiny bit of his grief in her arms. It wasn't a great leap of the imagination to guess he hadn't done so often, Perhaps not at all. The rage and turmoil bottled up inside him were visible in his' eyes. That swirling, riotous emotitn she hadn't been able to place before. The man was going to explode like one of his bombs if he didn't do something.

And it was none of her business, was. it? She barely knew him, and what she did know of him made him her enemy. Why, t~, was she so compelled, so drawn to him? Why this urge to hold him until his grief was spent? Oh, she knew she was always drawn to the wounded.

The more serious the wounds, the more she wanted to help. Came of that need to be needed, she supposed. And the knowledge she'd never have children to nurture, So she naturally longed to nurture others.

But it shouldn't extend to this man. Common sense ought to have some say in the matter, and common sense certainly decreed she keep a safe distance from a man with. , cactus skin, A man who lashed out just to keep her away. A man who'd told her in no uncertain terms that he didn't want her help.

His wounds' were too deep, too dangerous. The darkness inside him was devouring him, maybe already had. she got too close it would snare her, pull her in, destroy her the way it had destroyed him. She knew it would. She felt the warnings prickling upend down her nerve endings dancing over her skin. Stay away, they whispered. Stay away.

If she had any sense at all, she'd heed those warnings. But she never had been as smart as her father, had she? And maybe she just wasn't, bright enough to listen to the voice of conlI~on sense.

She'd- try,P she vowed in silence. She'd try to keep a cool distance.

She'd stop asking about things, she'd stop caring about his pain. He was nothing to her, why should she care? She'd force herself not to reach out to him again. She could do that. It wasn't such an impossible task.

Was it?

They rode in silence through the small town they'd discovered nearby, pulling in at . a used car dealership where Torch went inside. alone.

His jaw had been like granite as he'd left the car, never so much as looking at her.

-The man was as cold as a stone and twice as hard.

The 'man was in pain.

But that was nothing to her, right?

His hardness, the hunk of rock that passed for a heart in that broad chest of his, was a little easier to understand now, though, He must have been a different man, before they'd died. She tried to picture him happy, content, affectionate.

But it was a terrible stretch of the imagination.

"Mrs. Jones?"

There was a tap on her window and Alexandra jumped, then turned to see the smiling face of the salesman staring in at her. She cranked the window down.

"Mrs. Jones, come take a look. Can't have your husband making a purchase this important without your input now, can we?"

Mrs. Jones? Her husband?

Frowning, she opened the door and got out, allowing the man to lead her around the lot to where Torch was just stepping out of a motor home the size of a tank. He met her confused gaze and smiled . actually smiled at her. The perfect image of the devoted husband. He crossed to where she stood, draped an arm around her shoulders.

"Well, honey, what do you think?" He waved his free hand toward the house on wheels.

His arm felt warm and comfortingly heavy on her shoulders. She had to forcibly resist the urge to lean into his embrace, to tilt her head sideways until it r~sted on his shoulder, to slide her own arm around his waist and give it a squeeze and tell him that he was going to be all right.

The man does not want to be comforted, she reminded herself.

"I... uh... I'm not sure what to think."

"It has everything. Perfect for our trip to Yellowstone. Go on inside, take a look."

She blinked at him. He'd converted himself into the image of the American sightseer, evincing images of campgrounds and hot dogs and cold sodas. It was incredible.

Without a word she stepped into the camper, but she wasn't really looking at it. She just sank into a padded seat and tried again to figure him out.

Had he gone camping with his wife and sons? Was this what he'd been like then, before tragedy had turned his heart to stone?

He'd kis~sed her desperately, hungrily, in the ear. Even though he was insisting she keep her distance now, he'd turned to her then.

So maybe the solid stone heart of Torch Palamaro had a small chink in it. And maybe he wasn't quite as uninterested in her as he pretended to be. Maybe he needed her. Maybe he sensed, too, that she was the only one who could help him. And maybe that feeling frightened him and that was why he was being so cold toward her.

And maybe she was allowing her fondest dream--that of someone truly needing her--to interfere with rational thought.

The very idea of being Torch Palamaro's savior was so appealing that it was difficult to dismiss. It was also fidic- ulous. Imagine someone as strong and sure of himself as Torch needing a little nobody like Alexandra Holt. It was absurd.

She had no idea how long she'd sat there, staring into space, when he poked his head in. But he was back to cold distance now. 'Drive the car. Follow me. " HIS eyes were sapphire chips. His words fell like icy rain, chilling her right to the bone.

She only nodded. He started to pull back, but she stopped him.

"Come in for a second. Close the door."

Frowning, he did. She glanced out the window, saw the salesman heading into the office with a wad of bills in his hands. ~ Turning to face Torch, she tilted her head. "Why.~.?" Lord, this was hard. But she had to know. She'd drive herself crazy wondering if she didn't get a definitive answer soon. She cleared her throat.

"Why did you kiss me the way you did?"

He closed his eyes as if completely out of patience with her.

"I told you why. I'm human, Alex."

She shook her head and remained silent, waiting.

"And I haven't had any in a while, if you get my drift." -She looked at his mouth, and as she did, she remembered the kiss. The thrust of his tongue against hers, the press of his hands against the small of her back, and the curve of her buttocks.

"And that's all?" she asked, her voice very soft. Very unlike her own.

"Because it really seemed as if there were: :. aspects of that kiss that went beyond just... that."

"That's all, Alexandra. Don't even think there was anything more. I don't have anything more."

He turned and stepped out of the camper before she could respond.

He'd slapped her, without lifting a hand.

Alexandra sat very still, blinking in shock, because the slap hadn't connected. He'd been lying through his teeth. It showed in his eyes.

Was written all over his face. When she'd asked her question, he'd actually been afraid--of her. t--just for an instant. And now, she figured she was doomed. She didn't want to think that Torch Palamaro was a man in such intense pain that it was eating him alive from the inside out. And she certainly didn't want to think that she could help him. Could reach the heart he'd buried beneath a layer of solid stone. Could heal wounds too horrible even to look at.

She didn't want to think this man might. need her, as no one in her life had ever needed her.

But she was thinking it anyway.

He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, but he'd know it when he saw it. Torch drove the oversize camper, keeping one eye in the extended side mirrors on the car that followed. Alexandra. She was nothing but one giant thorn in his side. First lying to him about the safe-deposit box, then digging around in things that were none of her business.

And then holding him in her arms and making herself seem to him like the very essence of heaven and salvation and peace.

Dammit.

He didn't want to think about Alexandra right now, because every time he did, his mind went back to what had happened between them in the car.

The way the emotional floodgates had parted, just for a second, and the way they'd kissed. The way she'd felt in his arms. The way she'd tasted.

It had been the same the first time, back at the motel. At the time, it h~d seemed like a simple, quick method of getting that phony key out of her pocket, all without letting Scorpion see what he was doing He'd known the bastard was there, watching. He'd felt him.

That sixth sense had paled to transparency, though, the second he'd pulled Alexandra's trembling body up against his. And he knew he'd taken it way further than he'd needed to just to get the key. And dammit to hell, she apparently knew it, too.

It hadn't been necessary to kiss her so deeply or for so long, or to hold her so tight to him that he could feel every curve of her body It wasn't necessary to dip his tongue into the sweet warmth of her mouth, to taste her. He could even now taste her when he thought about it.

He still wasn't sure why the hell he'd done all that. And he was equally confused about his actions in the car. He was way too susceptible to Alexandra Holt. And maybe that was because it had been a long time, and he was only human, as he'd told her. His libido responding to her musk. Hell, she was a beautiful woman. He wasn't exactly made of stone. So maybe he'd given in to a natural, long-denied desire, for a few crazy moments.

He told himself that was it. The one and only reason for his weakness against the allure of her. But deep inside there was a little voice whispering that he was wrong. A voice his wary mifid refused to. let him hear.

Torch swore and glanced into the rearview mirror again. She was still there, still following. He didn't want to want her. But he did. And even though it meant nothing, even though he knew it was no more than chemistry, a physical attraction, a bodily need he'd denied too long crying out for attention, it still hurt.

He didn't want to want her. He didn't want to ever want another woman again. And he didn't deserve to have one. Not after the way his negligence had cost him the first.

Marcy, Josh and Jason. He ragged the photo from his shirt pocket and studied their faces. And he tried to remember them as more than just this one-dimensional image on paper. He tried to remember them animated, moving, laughing. The sounds of their voices, their facial expressions. But as always happened when he tried to bring up the memories, a solid wall slammed down inside his mind, blocking them.

He didn't deserve the happy memories, he supposed. It was his fault they were dead, and he'd lost even the past they'd shared. His image of his family seemed to be sealed m one tiny moment. The way they looked at him from this one-dimensional photograph.

 
They were the reason he was involved with Alexandra Holt fight now.

They were all 'that mattered. Their murders would be avenged, and soon.

And Torch knew that even killing Scorpion wasn't going to end his pain or in any way lessen his culpability. But it had to -be done. He owed his family that much. Maybe then he'd be able to remember them the way he wanted to. Happy, laughing, talking. maybe then his conscience would allow the good times back into his mind, his heart.

He blinked the rage away, shoved the photo back into his cl ' He was glad Alex had retrieved it for him. He it. Needed to look at it, just to remind him what' he was doing here. What was important. A glance at the photo-would he enough to dampen any desire thru' tried to flare in him for Alexandra Holt. He wouldn't let himself get dis-meted. Not now. Not when he was so close.

-With his focus back, he rededicated himself to the task at hand.

That being finding a place to hide his car. And as if his decision had been approved by whatever gods lived in this hellish world, a farm came into view, with an old, decrepit barn, standing gray and hunched like an old man, beg idea shiny new building.

Torch pulled into the barnyard, killed the engine and stepped out of the RV. Alex pulled fight in behind him and shut the ear off. But she didn't get out. She stared at him, her hands clutching the steering wheel a little too tightly. And her eyes held his captive for a long moment before he managed to look away.

"Something I can do for you folks?"

Torch swung his head around, plastering the old, pracriced expression on his face. The one that said, "I'm !,u, st a normal, well-adjusted, happy family man on vacation. The one that didn't look as if it belonged on the face of a soulless mannequin.

"Sure can," he told the farmer, a fiftyish man in faded jeans and aromatic, green rubber boots.

"I'm looking for a place to store my car for a couple of weeks. Had a little accident, and I don't want to interrupt our vacation to wait for repairs. God knows if I leave it at a garage it'll cost me a fortune."

"They'll rob you' blind all right." The man stuck his hands into the pockets of his Carhart coat, rocking back on his heels.

Torch nodded.

"I was hoping you might be willing to let me store it in your barn. Like I said, just for a couple of weeks. I could pay you. Say, a hundred dollars? In advance."

The farmer nodded, considering.

"Suppose you take off and don't show up for six months, friend? I'm gonna be tearing that old barn down, soon as winter's over."

"If for any reason I'm not back in time, you can sell it. Or junk it.

It's up to you. Paperwork's in the glove compartment i" The man's eyes widened.

"You trust me not to sell it the second you're outta sight?"

"You have an honest face?" Torch took a hundred dolo lars in twenties from his wallet.

"So what do you say?"

The man nodded and took the money. But he didn't pocket it. Only looked at it, narrow eyed.

"The car's not stolen, is it?"

"No. I promise, this is legit. I can show you' the registration in my name and" -- The man held up his hands.