strained. “Just leave me alone. Please, just leave me alone.”
She heard the tiniest of cracks in his voice, and that’s what decided her. “If I leave now, will you talk to me later?”
“Sure.”
He said it too fast and she didn’t believe him. “You promise that you’ll tell me what this is about?”
This response took longer. “Yes.”
Now, she took him at his word. “All right, then. I’ll leave. If you need me, though, shout.”
He didn’t look up, simply nodded, so she blew out a breath and turned and walked away. Upon reaching the house, she decided to put off a shower for a time and she took up a position where she could watch Jack.
He lay on his back in a meadow of green grass and a rainbow of wildflowers. His arm was slung over his eyes. Cat’s teeth tugged at her bottom lip. She’d never seen him this way. It worried her. Foolish of her, maybe, considering their situation, but she’d feel that way about any person, or animal, who exhibited so much … torment.
Minutes dragged by and he lay still as death. Spying movement in the periphery of her vision, she glanced away from Jack long enough to see the eagle land high in the branches of a tree. The eagle no sooner found his perch than Jack rolled to his feet. He stood watching the bird, neither of them moving, and something about the sight before her had Cat holding her breath. Then, almost simultaneously, the bird took flight and Jack turned toward the house. He walked slowly, his head down, shoulders stooped as if they carried the weight of the world.
He entered through the front door and climbed the stairs to his bedroom, again without stopping or speaking. Once she heard his bedroom door shut with a definite snick, she retreated to her own room and took a shower in the connecting bathroom.
She didn’t hear so much as a peep out of the man for the rest of the afternoon. At suppertime, she made two chef salads and left one in the fridge with his name on it. She watched a movie in the theater room, then went to bed at eleven.
The soft knock sounded on her door at eleven-fifteen.Cat sat up, switched on the bedside lamp, licked her suddenly dry lips, then said, “Come in, Jack.”
He didn’t know why he was standing here in Cat’s bedroom.
All he knew for certain was that one minute he’d been lying in bed, desperate to go back to sleep, and the next he had pulled on shorts and headed down the hallway. One minute he needed to be alone, the next he couldn’t bear the thought of being by himself another instant.
His gaze stole over her form. She had the sheet clutched against her chest. He wasn’t surprised to see that she still slept in satin nightshirts. She had always liked the sensation of satin against her skin. The one she wore tonight was midnight blue, and it looked great against her creamy complexion and fire-streaked hair. He cleared his throat. “You still want to talk?”
“I do.”
Jack advanced into the room. “First, let me apologize for being a jackass.”
Her mouth quirked in a droll smile. “Which time?”
He relaxed just a little and managed a shaky grin back at her. She gestured toward the foot of her bed. “Have a seat, Davenport.”
He glanced toward the guest bedroom’s easy chair and saw that it was piled high with books, papers, and her laptop. He sat on the end of her mattress. Now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say.
He couldn’t jump into the events that had happened in Texas. He might not tell her at all, never mind that he’d given his word. Instead, he asked, “What did you do while I was gone?”
She gave him a measured look. “I spent quite a bit of time in town. Nic introduced me to her friends. They’re nice women. It’s a nice town.”
“That’s … nice. Did they find Sarah’s mom?”
“Yes. She had driven to her and her husband’s special spot—a place called Spirit Cave. A couple of guys had car trouble or ran out of gas or something and stole the car.
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