Suspicions: A Twist of Fate\Tears of Pride (12 page)

But the knot in Erin’s stomach continued to tighten. She just intuitively didn’t trust Olivia. It wasn’t so much what Olivia said that managed to get under Erin’s sensitive thin skin, but the way the words came out. Double entendres, sly winks, suggestive innuendos—all at Erin’s expense.

As Erin found her way downstairs and out to the parking lot, she tried to dismiss the anxious feeling that had seized her with Olivia’s interruption. But as she unthinkingly put the key into the ignition switch of the car, she hesitated and watched, nearly hypnotized, as the other keys jangled and swung near the steering column. How had her name gotten on the list of people who had keys to the securities cart? Try as she would to remember otherwise, she knew that she had never, in the last few months, signed out for that key! And yet the presence of her own initials negated her perception. Would someone within the bank use her good name for his own purposes? Could someone have forged her initials? Mitch, perhaps? Would Mitchell Cameron stoop so low? With a disgusted grunt to herself and a firm shake of her head, she started the car and dismissed her traitorous thoughts. Where had her loyalty gone? Mitchell Cameron had been kind to her, a friend when she needed one most. She wouldn’t turn her back on him now—nor would she imagine that he would use her name for his own advantage. But then, how could she explain about the key? Could it be, as Olivia said, just a mistake? Probably. And yet…

There were still slight traces of fog along the waterfront and in the downtown area of Seattle, but as Erin’s yellow VW climbed the hill that supported the apartment house, the mist thinned and by the time she was home the evening was cool but clear. Only a trace of fog could be seen in the wisps that clung to the dark waters of the distant sound.

It was nearly seven, and Erin wanted to dash up the stairs to get ready for Kane, but propriety stopped her. She set her purse and briefcase on the lowest step of the staircase and knocked softly on Mrs. Cavenaugh’s door.

A curious blue eye peeked at her through the peephole. Then quickly the door opened, and the slightly bent figure of Milly Cavenaugh greeted Erin with a warm smile.

“Good evening, Erin. I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Mrs. Cavenaugh said cheerily, and winked broadly at her young landlady.

Erin’s face creased with anxiety. “Why not? Didn’t the repairmen show up?”

“Did they ever….” Mrs. Cavenaugh replied with a disapproving purse of her lips. Disgust darkened her eyes and she shook her head as she remembered. “They were here…an entire battalion of them…tracking in mud and heaven-knows-what-else into the house!” Erin’s eyes followed the sweep of Mrs. Cavenaugh’s hand as it included the front porch, entry hall and stairway. The oaken planks of the hallway were, indeed, imprinted with scrambled tracks of mud-laden, booted feet.

“Did they finish the job?” Erin asked, dragging her eyes away from the mess on the floor and back to her elderly tenant.

“Partially, I think. It seems that it’s going to take more work than the original estimate showed,” Mrs. Cavenaugh announced, thinking carefully.

“More work? Why?” Dollar signs flashed in Erin’s mind.

“Something about dry rot in the floorboards, I think,” Mrs. Cavenaugh explained with a shrug of her bent shoulders. “I’m sorry, dear, I really didn’t pay too much attention—I was too busy trying to get them to wipe the dirt off their boots.”

Erin felt her heart sink. Dry rot? What was that exactly? Something to do with the condition of the subfloor and support beams, she thought. It sounded like it would cost money—lots of it.

“Is something wrong, Erin?” Mrs. Cavenaugh asked, assessing the worried look that had appeared on Erin’s face. “Would you like to come in and sit for a moment? I could brew a pot of tea….”

Forcing herself to smile, Erin shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, Mrs. Cavenaugh. I was just a little surprised to find out about the dry rot.”

“Oh, it’s probably nothing to be concerned about anyway,” the elderly lady thought aloud, dismissing the subject with an expansive wave of her hand. Her pale blue eyes took in the concerned look on Erin’s features before asking the question that had been entering her head ever since she had seen Erin through the peephole.

“How did things go at work today?”

Erin was still concentrating on the bad news of the dry rot, wondering how extensive the damage was and just how many hundreds or thousands of dollars it would take to correct the problem. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s question startled her.

“Pardon me?”

“Work. The new boss. How’re you two getting along?” Thinly veiled interest sparked in her kindly blue eyes.

Erin pulled out of her reverie at the mention of Kane. “Everything’s going just fine, I guess. Mr. Webster seems to be quite capable.”

“And Mr. Cameron?” the old lady coaxed inquisitively.

Once again concern clouded Erin’s violet eyes. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I haven’t been able to reach him.”

Mrs. Cavenaugh played with the strand of pearls at her neck and clucked her tongue. She wagged her head in disbelief. “I read about it in the papers. Embezzlement—it’s a nasty business.”

‘I just wish that I could talk to him,” Erin sighed, and leaned heavily against the banister of the staircase. “It’s all so hard for me to accept.”

“But your Mr. Webster…”

“He’s
not my
Mr. Webster,” Erin interrupted, her cheeks coloring in indignation. Mrs. Cavenaugh’s blue eyes sparkled more brightly.

“Whatever,” she replied with a dismissive shrug. “What does he think?”

“Oh, he’s convinced that Mitch is guilty,” Erin murmured, her slim fingers running along the clean cool lines of the wooden railing. Talking about Mitch and the embezzlement drained Erin, and she realized that she shouldn’t be discussing bank business with her neighbor. She straightened her shoulders and changed the subject to a less personal issue. “Have you seen Mr. Jefferies?” she asked Mrs. Cavenaugh, and motioned toward the apartment on the other side of the staircase. “He hasn’t changed his mind about vacating his apartment, has he?”

“As a matter of fact, I saw him this morning when I was getting my mail,” the gray-haired woman replied importantly. “No, his daughter insists that George will be better off closer to his family.” With a catty wink the wrinkled woman continued, “He is getting on in years, you know.”

Erin suppressed the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. She knew for a fact that Mr. Jefferies was a good ten years younger than Mrs. Cavenaugh, although the sprightly little old lady would be loathe to admit it.

Erin lifted her shoulders in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, well, you win some and you lose some. I guess I’d better put an advertisement in the
Times
and put the Vacancy sign back up. It seems that I just took it down!”

“Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?” Mrs. Cavenaugh asked, shaking a knowing and gnarled finger in Erin’s surprised face.

Erin laughed in spite of herself. “Everybody and anybody. Or so it seems.”

“Well, they’re right! And what does all that worry get you? Nothing but stomach ulcers and trouble! Now, you take my advice, and—what is it they say these days—you loosen up!”

Erin grinned and impulsively gave the little old woman a bear hug. “You’re right,” she murmured, and patted the elderly woman’s frail shoulder.

“Of course I am! You should do yourself a favor and listen to me more often,” Mrs. Cavenaugh rejoined with a proud lift of her chin. “And…if you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll put your hooks into that Webster fellow in a big hurry!”

“Mrs. Cavenaugh! Have you been spying on me?” Erin inquired with mock dismay.

The older woman shook her gray head savagely. “Just looking out for your best interests, honey. That’s all!” Then, with a dismissive shrug of her thin shoulders, she added, “Call it spying, if you will. But somebody’s got to take care of you. I saw the way that ex-husband of yours treated you—and I want to make sure that you don’t get hurt again…”

Erin tried to protest, but the severity of Mrs. Cavenaugh’s wizened blue eyes held her tongue.

“Now…this Webster fellow, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“And?”

“Unless I miss my guess, which isn’t very often, I’d say he’s fallen head over heels for you!”

“You can’t be serious!”

But the knowing and pleased look on Mrs. Cavenaugh’s weathered face added silent conviction to the little old lady’s words.

“I…I had better be running along,” Erin said a little breathlessly as she thought about Mrs. Cavenaugh’s words. Could she possibly be right? Erin picked up her purse and her briefcase and called over her shoulder, “Don’t worry about the mess in the hallway, Mrs. Cavenaugh. I’ll have the janitor clean it in the morning….”

“Oh, Erin,” the lady at the bottom of the stairs beckoned.

“Yes.” Erin turned to look back down at her, and she could tell that the woman was struggling with some sort of decision.

“I thought that maybe you’d want to know—Lee was here today, asking about you.”

“What?”

“He left you a note, I think.” Her blue eyes beseeched Erin. “Everything’s okay, isn’t it?”

Erin hesitated only slightly. “Of course,” she managed, but she heard the hollow sound of her own words. As she mounted the final stairs to her apartment, she heard Mrs. Cavenaugh’s door close and the sharp sound of a bolt being turned in the lock. All of the airy feeling that had cascaded over her from Mrs. Cavenaugh’s suspicions about Kane’s feelings for her had vanished at the mention of Lee. As she thought about it Erin wondered how the little old lady had even seen Kane, but there was something in Mrs. Cavenaugh’s pale blue eyes that bothered Erin. The dear little woman really believed that Kane was falling in love with her. But how would Mrs. Cavenaugh even suspect?

Erin shook her head and pulled the pins from her hair as she closed the door to her loft. If only she could believe that Kane could love her or at least learn to love her. Erin’s vivid imagination began to run wild.

But just as her heart began to race in anticipation of Kane’s love, her rational mind cooled her response. What about the wariness she had sensed in the steely depths of Kane’s gray eyes? Why did she always feel that he was studying her—trying to read her mind? Why did she feel that he didn’t completely trust her? Her blood cooled and a shudder raced up her spine. The situation was impossible.

It was then that she noticed the white envelope that had been shoved under her door. The note from Lee.

Chapter 8

It had been nearly two weeks since Erin had found the note thrust intrusively into her apartment. The message was a simple request, “Please call,” and a number that she recognized as a suburban Seattle telephone listing. She had tried to call Lee once, but was relieved when no one answered. Several other times she had been tempted to try and reach him once more, but before she had found the nerve to dial the number, she had changed her mind and left well enough alone. If he really needed her, she reasoned, he would get in touch with her again. A few times she had wadded up the note in an effort to throw it away, but she hadn’t. This morning the note was once again before her as she leaned against the kitchen counter, studiously stirring a bit of honey into her tea. It sat menacingly on the counter, inviting her to make a call that she knew would only bring her more heartache. Was she a coward? Why did she let him linger near her to remind her of the past and the pain.

She took an experimental sip of the warm amber liquid. As the hot tea slid down her throat, Erin thought about the past two weeks of her life. The days had gone fairly well. On the surface it seemed as if everything in the office was running efficiently, just as a well-oiled banking machine should. For the first time in months Erin had cleaned out her pending probate file along with a series of other nagging paperwork problems that had been building on the corner of her desk for several weeks. Her fear over gossip or rumors spreading concerning her relationship with Kane had been unfounded, other than the one unfortunate and vicious incident with Olivia. Kane proved himself to be a capable and fair employer, and outwardly Erin appeared to enjoy working for him. It had even been possible for her to work professionally with Kane by forcing her personal feelings for him into the background and never letting her emotions color her objectivity or judgment. It had been excruciatingly difficult at times not to reach out and touch him or smooth the worried look from his brow. But she had managed to look the part of a disinterested employee. At least she hoped so.

It was the nights that disturbed her, she realized now as she moved restlessly from the kitchen, taking the teacup and the crumpled note from Lee with her. Then, after carefully setting the teacup on the coffee table, she spread out the crushed piece of paper and smoothed its creases against the arm of the sofa. The seven digits of Lee’s home phone leaped out at her, and in a moment of sudden decisiveness, she shredded the note into tiny pieces and tossed them disgustedly away in the wastebasket, something she should have done two weeks ago!

Erin sunk into the soft rose-colored cushions of the couch and continued to reflect on the changes in her life. When she was alone with Kane, she felt a freedom and a rapture that were hard to describe, an enthusiasm and exhilaration that she thought had been lost with her teens. Just the light touch of his hand on her shoulder or his throaty whispered voice could send her spiraling into an emotional bliss that was both wonderful and frightening. Never had she given her heart so willingly or so easily. She knew that a part of Kane wanted to love her; she could feel it as they made love. But for some unknown reason, he wouldn’t let himself enjoy the pleasure of loving her. At first she had thought that the failure of his marriage had hardened him against a commitment to the future, but lately she had sensed that it was a more personal problem that made him withdraw. A problem somehow directly relating to her.

She shook her tangled curls and looked into the teacup as if she might find the answer to her dilemma in its amber-colored depths. Why the restlessness? Why did she feel like an aerialist carefully balancing her life on a flimsy tightrope and knowing that sometime, although she couldn’t be quite sure exactly when, the tense, frail wire would snap and send her catapulting downward into an empty black emotional abyss? The conflicting roles of daytime employee and nighttime lover were constantly at war in her mind.

Erin sighed deeply and ran her fingernails in deep grooves along the overstuffed arm of the antique sofa. There were times when she was alone with Kane that the stone wall of wariness in his eyes would weaken, and she would feel an exquisite happiness, the blush of love. But on other occasions, when she lay alone in her bed, listening as he drove off into the night, she discovered a sense of desperation and loneliness that caused feverish nightmares to disturb her sleep.

Why the torment? Where was the relationship leading them? Why couldn’t she come to grips with and accept the affair for what it was—a pleasant, sensuous experience? Why did she insist on coloring her feelings with love?

A key turned in the lock. Kane had returned. Erin could feel herself beginning to coil in tension. Nervously she waited for him to enter—just as he had every night for the past two weeks. But tonight would be different, she vowed to herself. Tonight she would insist upon answers. Why was there always a darkness in his eyes?

Kane entered the room and shut the door behind him. The stern look on his face only made Erin’s heart hammer more wildly. He was dressed casually in jeans and a tan pullover sweater. His chestnut hair was slightly messy as if he had forgotten about it over the last few hours. It was obvious that he had hurriedly stopped by his hotel before coming to see her. Unusual. The pattern of their life together had been established over the last two weeks, but this Friday night was obviously different to Kane as well as Erin. Even under the intensity of his gaze she reminded herself that she had to know, tonight, what it was that held him away from her.

“Pack your bags,” Kane commanded without even a smile as a greeting. She jumped at his abrupt command, and for a moment his arctic gray eyes collided with hers. She felt a chill of dread pass over her body. His mouth was a tight, grim line that was neither a smile nor a frown. The grooves across his forehead seemed deeper tonight, as if he, too, had been wrestling with a troublesome and weighty decision.

“Do what?” she asked incredulously. Surprise and indignation registered in the startled expression that crossed her face. She was still sitting on the couch with her legs curled up and tucked underneath her. She almost dropped her teacup at his abrasive command.

Kane ignored her question. Preoccupied, he paced distractedly in front of the couch, his fists balled deeply in the pockets of his jeans. As he passed in front of her, Erin couldn’t help but notice that his jeans, slung low in the waist, strained against his thighs and buttocks with each of his long strides. As he paced she was reminded of a caged animal, and she could almost visualize his tightly controlled muscles rippling beneath the fabric of his clothing. Forcefully she pulled her attention away from his virile male anatomy and tried to read the expression on his face.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he growled, and stopped his absent pacing. “I asked you to go and pack.”

“No, you didn’t,” she corrected, her eyes locking with his. “You
ordered
me to pack without so much as a greeting or explanation!”

Anger snapped in his eyes, but his reply was strangely soothing. The rage that was burning quietly within him was controlled. “You’re right,” he expelled in a long breath, “and I’m sorry. I…I’m a little distracted this evening,” he offered as an apology.

“I noticed!” she retorted, and then seeing the worried creases that pulled his thick dark brows together in concern, she amended her hot retort. “I guess it’s my turn to apologize,” she admitted wearily. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’ve been a little distracted myself.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing to be concerned about,” she averred with a wan smile, and wondered why she didn’t have the strength of character to lay her cards on the table and confront him with her unanswered questions about their relationship and the future. Instead she chose to sidestep the issue. “Now.” She smiled feebly, luminous lilac eyes looking pleadingly up at him. “What’s been bothering you?”

“Oh, God, Erin,” he moaned and let his forehead drop to his hand in a gesture of total defeat. He raked long tense fingers through the wheat-colored highlights of his burnished hair. How could he explain that he was only a hairbreadth away from confirming his suspicions about her? Could she imagine how close he was coming to finding all of the pieces of the puzzle that would tie her into the embezzling scandal? Although everything was still circumstantial, it was stacking together so neatly that it was actually beginning to scare Kane. Although no more money had been taken from the bank, the most damning piece of evidence that he had found so far—a discrepancy in the securities cart key registration—proved as well as anything that Erin had been lying to him. How long did she expect the charade to work? How could he help her and get her out of this mess? What could he do? It would all be so much easier if he just didn’t give a damn!

“Kane,” Erin said unsteadily, still sitting, looking both childlike and wise at the same moment. Oh, God, he thought, was she going to confess? Could he bear it? His muscles tensed, and he could feel the pressure as his jaws tightened together in a viselike grip. “Is there anything I can do?” she offered in a whisper.

Erin had noticed Kane stiffen at the sound of her voice, and she was aware that the wall between them was rigidly back in place, but she felt a strangling need to climb the invisible barrier and reach out to him. Why was he suffering so?

“There’s nothing you can do,” he stated flatly. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

She twisted her fingers together. “Is it Krista?” she asked with a shaky breath.

His gray eyes smoldered with indecision. “That’s part of it,” he conceded, and hated himself for his duplicity. Dropping his body down on the couch next to her, he let his head fall backward as if it were too heavy to support. He sat staring ahead, with only inches separating him from her. Her senses were alive to him, her nerve endings stretched taut. Erin could feel the heat of his body, smell the inviting scent of his aftershave, see the darkening shadow of his beard. But he still didn’t touch her. His hands rubbed thoughtfully against his knees, and he looked straight ahead through the window into the late afternoon sky. “I talked with Krista again today,” he said in a voice that seemed remote.

“And?” Erin prodded, not knowing why she should be concerned with Kane’s reclusive daughter.

“She doesn’t want to move to Seattle,” he sighed, and drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Absolutely refuses!”

He turned his head to look in her direction and their eyes met in a chilly embrace. “I’m going to California next week to get her and move her up to Seattle with me.”

“And you’re worried about her and the adjustment,” Erin guessed.

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“That goes without saying. Is…there anything I can do to make it easier on you?”

“Would you come to California with me?”

“To get Krista?” At Kane’s cursory nod, Erin expelled a long breath and shook her head firmly and negatively. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea. She’s going to have to adjust to a whole new city. I think you should be alone with her. She doesn’t need the intrusion of a virtual stranger.”

She could see in his eyes that she had convinced him and she continued, “But if there’s anything else that I can do….”

“There is something,” he suggested, and for a moment the tension seemed to vanish.

“What?”

“Pack your bags for the weekend” was the brief reply, but the passion that had been lurking in his eyes came alive. His silvery eyes embraced hers, and he reached for her hand. His thumb drew slow, lazy circles on the inside of her wrist, and heat began to climb up her body. “Oh, Erin,” he breathed, and his lips found hers in a feverish kiss that seemed to pulsate with need and urgency. When he dragged his mouth away from the supple curve of her lips, he looked savagely into her eyes, asking questions that she couldn’t understand. Then a softness stole over his features as he took a handful of her hair in his palm and pressed her head against the protection of his chest. In a ragged breath he asked, “Do you know how hard it’s been for me, forcing myself to keep my hands off you at the office?” He growled deep in his throat. “There were times when I thought I would actually go insane, having you so close and not being able to touch you….”

Her arms circled his waist, and she kissed the swell of his cheek. “I know…”

“No, I don’t think that you can imagine what it’s like—seeing you every day and not being able to touch what is mine.”

“Yours? Possessive, aren’t you?” she quipped sarcastically.

“Absolutely!” His grip on her tightened, and when she tilted her face to meet his, the warmth of his lips captured hers in a passion that spread fire through her veins. With great difficulty she pulled her head away from his.

“What did you say about packing my bags?” she inquired, trying to ignore the warm intimacy of his breath as it tickled her face.

“You and I are getting away for the weekend,” he stated, and with apparent effort he released her from his tenacious embrace. “Hurry up,” he ordered. “We don’t have all day. I want to get moving before we run out of daylight!”

“Kane!” Erin said with mild irritation. “What are you talking about? Where are we going? Why do I need to pack?”

His smile twisted grimly and Erin saw the weariness and cynicism deep in his crystal gray eyes. “You and I are leaving this city, the bank—” his eyes swept the homey apartment “—this house, everything! We’re going to get lost in the wild for a couple of days!”

“The wild?”

“That’s right!” Half dragging her into the bedroom, he opened the closet, against her protests, and found her suitcase. “I’m tired of sneaking out of your bed in the middle of the night like some…gigolo!” He ignored Erin’s gasp of indignation and began opening her bureau drawers. She caught his reflection in the mirror and saw that a hard, tense mask had come over his angular features. He looked up, his gray eyes held hers and he said with disgust, “And I’m tired of not being able to touch you in the light of day!” His hands were pressed firmly on the dresser top, and he pinioned her with his gaze, cold and distant, in the looking glass. Tense fingers slowly rubbed the wooden surface of the dresser. “Damn it, woman!” His fist pounded against the cool wood. “I’m sick of hiding, and I won’t do it anymore! So, beginning tonight, we are not going to keep this affair in the dark, as if we’re ashamed of it! You and your paranoia over rumors can go to blazes!” He spit the words out as if they were a bad taste in his mouth. His anger was burning in the darkness of his gaze.