Heart of Gold

FIVE

“YOU LOOK LOTS better.”

Shane’s brows shot up as he opened his eyes and slowly turned his head on the pillow to see little Lindy planted beside his bed, staring up at him with an expression of almost adult certainty on her cherubic face. Remnants of her bout with the chicken pox dotted her cheeks and forehead, but her dark eyes glowed with energy.

“Me and Mama are taking care of you,” she informed him, lifting a small red plastic case onto the bed. Opening it, she revealed an array of miniature doctor’s tools and a stash of candy. “It’s my turn now ’cause Mama’s busy. We have to see if you have a temp’ture. Open up!”

Obediently Shane opened his mouth and let Lindy stick a toy thermometer between his teeth. She pulled a pint-sized stethoscope out of her case, stuck the ends in her ears, and pressed the business end to his muscular biceps.

“Hmm…” she mused, pursing her lips, her eyebrows pulling together in thought.

“Well, nurse,” he asked soberly, “what do you think?”

Lindy beamed a smile at him, dimples cutting into her rosy cheeks. “I think you’re all better enough to color for a little while, but Mama will probably make you take a nap after that.”

Pushing her doctor’s bag aside, she scrambled up on the bed beside him with a coloring book and box of crayons clutched to her.

Keeping a discreet hold of the quilt that covered him, Shane eased himself up so he could lean back against the headboard. He tucked the blankets tightly around his waist, and Lindy settled in against his good side, as content and trusting as if she had known him her whole life.

A mysterious knot lodged itself in Shane’s throat. He swallowed it down and told himself he was just thirsty. He wasn’t in the least affected by this sweet, innocent darling with the unruly blond curls. Not in the least.

“This is the color book Aunt Jayne gave me for having the chicken spots,” Lindy explained as she opened the book to a fresh page and offered Shane his pick of the crayons. “I’m sharing it with you because I think you’re nice.”

Oh, hell, Shane thought, selecting a stubby blue crayon, of course he was affected. He and little Lindy were from opposite ends of the spectrum. She was everything good, and he had seen everything evil, yet Faith’s daughter cuddled against his side in her fuzzy pajamas, completely unconcerned. How could that irony not bring out all his protective instincts?

“Aunt ’Laina gave me that nurse game,” Lindy explained as she started in enthusiastically on a picture of the Care Bears. “She said I could grow up to be a doctor, and she would chase the am’blances.” She scrunched up her little pixie face and giggled. “Isn’t that silly?”

Shane chuckled. He should have been hauling himself out of bed and seeing to the case, but somehow the idea didn’t appeal to him as much as sharing these few moments with this child.

You’re losing it, Callan, his little inner voice muttered. For once he managed to ignore it.

Faith froze in the doorway, then sagged against the jamb. Nothing had prepared her for the sight before her or for the effect it had on her heart. Shane, sitting up in bed, bare-chested, black hair tousled, looking impossibly masculine and sexy and in need of a shave. And Lindy curled up against his side in her pink pajamas, jabbering away a mile a minute as the pair of them colored.

“Lord, don’t do this to me,” Faith whispered despairingly. She was too exhausted, too emotionally drained right now to fight off the wave of feelings that assaulted her on seeing that big tough cop coloring with her four-year-old daughter. Wearily she closed her eyes.

In a flash every memory she had of Shane Callan passed through her mind-his initial arrogance, the intense sadness of his music, his vulnerability as he’d lain sick with fever and whatever memories tortured his sleep. She thought of the book of poetry she’d found on his nightstand. She thought of the incredible physical magnetism that drew her to him. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him again as he bent his dark head and murmured something that made Lindy giggle.

And in that instant Faith fell hopelessly, totally in love.

It wasn’t a pleasant thing. It wasn’t flowers and church bells and bird song. It was a long hard fall down a bumpy hill to the rocks of reality. She was in love with a man who distanced himself from people. He kept to himself behind a wall of cynicism and distrust. She didn’t want to be in love with him. Any woman with an ounce of common sense would have taken one look and known Shane Callan was nothing but a heartbreaker.

That had to mean she didn’t have a shred of intelligence then, because she was looking at him now, and all she wanted was to go join him on that bed and have him take her in his strong arms and hold her.

The fingers of her left hand curled around the smooth wood of the door frame as if to keep her from giving in to that desire. It seemed she didn’t have the strength or the sense to keep from loving the wrong man. First William Gerrard, now Shane Callan.

“Darn it all,” she muttered on a sigh of resignation. Why did she have to be such a blasted romantic? Bryan had always counseled her to hang on to that trait. He’d said the world needed more romantics. Maybe that was true, Faith thought, but why the heck did she have to be one of them?

“Hi, Mama!” Lindy chirped, shooting her a grin that was lacking a tooth on the upper right-hand side. “Me and Shane are coloring!”

Faith gathered herself together and stepped into the room, trying to look unruffled. “Lindy, sweetie, you shouldn’t be in here. Mr. Callan needs his rest.”

“But he’s all better,” Lindy said earnestly. Twisting around to look up at Shane, she said in a loud whisper, “Told you she’d make you take a nap.”

“Scoot, pumpkin.”

Lindy crumpled against her oversize playmate and sent her mother her most plaintive look. “Can’t we color a little more? Please, Mama. Shane’s real good. He stays inside the lines.”

Shane lifted the book for her perusal, looking up at her with smoky eyes as a lock of night black hair tumbled across his forehead. “See, Mom?”

His voice was low and rough, more so than usual. This was probably what he sounded like first thing in the morning or just after making love. Faith’s skin blossomed with heat at the images that thought evoked.

“Very nice.” She shot him a wry look and motioned her daughter toward the door. “Lindy, go on and see what Aunt Jayne is watching on TV.”

Pouting, Lindy gathered her toys together and climbed down from the bed. A disgruntled frown marred her forehead as she grumbled, “All she ever watches is movies, and I fall asleep ’cause I’m too little.”

Faith shook her head as she watched her daughter shuffle dejectedly out into the hall.

“I’ll have to have a talk with her about wandering into people’s rooms before the inn opens for business,” she said. “That could be a very embarrassing habit for her to get into.”

“Not to mention prematurely educational,” Shane quipped, enjoying the color that rose in Faith’s cheeks. He had to admit he found her modesty refreshing and sweet, and damned if it didn’t turn him on. Desire stirred lazily inside him as he wondered whether or not she would be shy with him in bed.

“I’m sorry if she woke you.”

“She didn’t bother me at all,” he said, a little surprised that it was true. It had been so long since he’d had the chance to be around small children, he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed their company. “Anyway, I have a feeling it’s time I got up.”

“You’re in no condition to get up,” Faith protested, planting her hands on her gently rounded hips and giving him a look of maternal command, even though maternal was the last thing she felt when she looked at him.

“That never stopped me before.” He actually found the makings of a smile to send her. Unconsciousness had done wonders for his temperament.

If he had looked sexy before, Faith thought, he looked doubly so now, alone in the bed with the covers riding low on his flat belly. Darn it, why couldn’t the government have sent her a fat, balding toad of a special agent?

Breathlessly she asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” His brain felt like steel wool, his shoulder throbbed, and his skin hurt all over, but these complaints seemed minor enough to fit under the heading of “fine.” By the look of her Faith wasn’t able to make the same claim.

Shadows hung under her dark eyes in violet crescents. The pallor of her skin was a sharp contrast to the soft pink sweater she wore above a mauve cotton skirt that was gathered at the waist and hung down well past her knees. She was unquestionably as nervous as a cat and looked as if she had never even heard of a good night’s sleep, let alone enjoyed one.

“How long have I been out?” Shane asked, scratching at the stubble that covered his lean cheeks.

“About nineteen hours,” she answered as she flitted about his room like a hyperactive butterfly, straightening things that had already been straightened a dozen times and had never needed it in the first place. She could have told him how long he’d been out to the minute, but she didn’t think it would be a wise thing to reveal, considering how it would reflect on her.

“Agent Matthews says the wound in your shoulder is infected.” She started leaning in the direction of the door, eager to make her escape. “I should go get him. He’ll want to see you.”

Shane’s right hand snaked out and closed quickly but gently around her delicate wrist, snaring her alongside his bed. Her eyes rounded in alarm.

“That can wait,” he said. “I want to talk to you first. What happened?”

“You passed out.” Somehow Faith knew it wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but it was the only one she wanted to give him.

He shook his head impatiently. “While I was out, what happened?”

She frowned at his suddenly wary look. “You didn’t reveal any state secrets, if that’s what you’re worried about. You growled and snarled and were generally unpleasant, but that wasn’t anything I hadn’t already experienced.”

“What else?” he prodded.

“Nothing, really.”

She was a terrible liar. Her teeth dug into her lower lip, and her gaze darted around the room, landing everywhere but on him. She was keeping something from him. Even if it hadn’t been written all over her lovely face, Shane could sense the tension in her.

Instead of wanting to shake the truth out of her, he found himself wanting to pull her into his arms and coax it out of her with gentle kisses. That was a bad idea, but he was darn near beyond caring about job ethics where Faith Kincaid was concerned. Just looking at her, even now when he was only at half strength, he wanted her. He was beginning to think they were simply going to have to deal with that desire sooner or later, because it obviously wasn’t going to go away.

At the moment, though, his first concern had to be finding out what had happened while he’d been dead to the world.

“Faith?”

She trembled as his smoky voice caressed her like velvet. His thumb gently rubbed circles at the paper-thin flesh on the inside of her wrist. She felt faint from trying to fight her own emotions. Darn him anyway, what did he want to know? That she had sat beside him during the worst of his fever trying to comfort and soothe him? That she had just fallen in love with him because he had stayed inside the lines when he colored Bedtime Bear? That she was so stressed out, all she wanted to do was find a quiet place, curl into a ball, and cry?

“Did you get another call?”

“No,” she said too quickly. “And Agent Matthews is handling everything, so you don’t have to worry-”

Shane cut her off with a virulent expletive. “The bastard called again. Get me my pants.”

Faith jerked her arm from his grasp and retreated two steps but faced him with a look of determination. “I will not get you your pants, Shane Callan. You are going to stay in bed at least another day.”

“The hell I am.”

Without warning or compunction he tossed back the covers and hauled himself to his feet, absolutely, magnificently naked.

Faith’s jaw dropped. He was everything she had imagined he would be and then some. Six feet, four inches of beautifully sculpted, elegantly built man. Someone should have bronzed him and put him on display in a museum. His powerful chest tapered to gracefully slim hips that led to muscular thighs and impressive evidence of his gender.

“Sweetheart,” he said in a voice like raw silk, “if you keep looking at me that way, neither one of us is going to need clothes in a minute.”

As impossible as it seemed, Faith was certain she blushed an even deeper shade of red. The heat in her cheeks rose another million degrees. Arrogant, presumptuous man! Never mind that her insides were melting like ice cream under a hot July sun, he needn’t have commented on it.

Quickly she turned and reached into the wardrobe. She yanked out one of the fresh bath towels she had stocked it with and thrust it at him.

“You are not leaving this room,” she announced, refusing to look at him another second for fear that she’d faint dead away. It seemed all her bones had turned to butter.

“I’m here to take care of you,” Shane pointed out, accepting the towel. “Not the other way around.”

“It seemed a moot point when you were unconscious.”

“I’m not unconscious anymore.”

“So I noticed,” Faith grumbled between her teeth, forcing her eyes to remain riveted to the pattern of the wallpaper.

“This is my case,” Shane said as he slung the swath of deep green terry cloth around his hips and secured it out of deference to Faith’s modesty. “I’m perfectly capable of handling it.”

“Yes, I seem to remember you mumbling something to that effect as Mr. Matthews and Mr. Fitz hauled your semiconscious body from the floor of my room.”

Shane ignored her sarcasm and abruptly went to the heart of the matter. “Was it the same caller? Did Matthews have time to trace it?”

“It was a letter, not a call,” Faith admitted in a low voice. Lust was instantly forgotten. She trembled as she thought of the note that had come in the morning mail. It seemed impossible for a scrap of paper to be such a terrifying thing, but it had shaken her almost as badly as the phone call had. She didn’t want Shane to know that, though. The pigheaded man belonged in bed. “Everything is under control. Your men are watching the house, and Agent Matthews is taking care-”

“What kind of letter?”

“A nasty one,” she said, her voice soft and tight. “It was typed on plain notebook paper and stuck in a cheap envelope postmarked Fort Bragg. No fingerprints, according to Mr. Matthews.”

“Damn,” Shane muttered.

“My sentiments exactly.”

She looked so fragile suddenly, so small and alone it tore at Shane. She stood there, looking away from him, staring at one of the wreaths of dried flowers that adorned the wall. Her arms were crossed tightly in front of her as if to keep her upright. The lady was putting on a hell of a show at being strong enough to handle this ugly business. Even as he cursed the man who was causing her trouble, he had to admire Faith’s courage.

“You could back out on testifying, you know,” he said softly, giving in to the need to offer her an option. Banks wouldn’t have liked it, but Banks wasn’t there watching this sweet flower tremble under the pressure. “It would hurt the case, but no one would blame you.”

Faith shook her head. She would not back down. Especially not now. William Gerrard had manipulated her for too long. She had run across the country to escape him, and he was still trying to control her. She wasn’t going to let him go on doing it.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” she said, almost to herself. “No one can actually get to me. Banks said so. You said so. Agent Matthews said so. Anyway, he’s just trying to scare me.”

And doing a damn good job of it, Shane thought. When he got his hands on the man responsible for terrifying her… In the meantime, he wanted to get his hands on Faith. The first time she had turned to him in fear, he had wanted to take her in his arms, but he had stopped himself. He didn’t try to stop himself this time, nor did he question the wisdom of his decision. This was what she needed, and he was going to give it to her.

Gently he wrapped his good arm around her slender shoulders, frowning when she tensed at his touch. “You are scared,” he said simply.

Her answer was little more than an exhalation of breath. “Yes.”

“It’s all right,” he whispered, drawing her to his chest. When she gave in and leaned against him, he stroked his big hand over her soft tangle of fiery gold curls. “I’ll take care of you.”

Faith let her arms sneak around his lean waist. She let her cheek press against the warm flesh of his bare chest. She indulged herself for this one moment. It felt so good to be in his arms. She felt a sense not only of safety, but of rightness. Something deep inside her told her it was where she belonged. Whether that was true or not, it was where she wanted to be.

Shane was warm and real, an anchor in the storm, her battered knight sworn to protect her. That was a romantic notion of a very unromantic situation, but Faith didn’t care. She let her mind shut down and her senses take over. She thought of nothing but the way it felt to be held. She drank in the warm male scent of Shane. She listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. Her fingertips memorized the marble-smooth planes of his back.

For a long moment they just stood there, bathed in the amber glow of the small hurricane lamp on the nightstand. Faith felt as if she were drawing strength from Shane, even though he had to have precious little to spare. The past few days had worn her down to nothing. Between dealing with threats and intrusions and Lindy’s chicken pox and Shane’s fever, she had depleted every milliliter of energy she had. But standing there with Shane’s arm around her and her arms around him, she felt her power level rise.

“I’ll be all right,” she said, managing a smile as she looked up at him.

The impact of his gaze was like a physical blow that knocked the wind out of her lungs. His silver-gray eyes captured hers with a stare that was intense and predatory and possessive and so very basically male, everything feminine inside her responded. In that instant all the complications of their situation seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them, just a man and a woman and a desire that was not to be denied.

Shane’s mouth swooped down, trapping Faith’s, taking hers in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, but barely tame. She let herself be swept along on the tide of passion as his tongue swept against hers. His fingers tangled in her hair as he tilted her head, giving him a better angle so he could deepen the kiss even more.

It was incredible how quickly and powerfully he could arouse the dormant woman inside her, Faith thought dimly, the woman her husband had never really wanted, the woman who had longed for love and passion. The needs of that woman caught fire like dry tinder touched to flame. Her body molded herself to his powerful frame, seeking total contact. Her breasts swelled against the steel of his chest. His good arm banded around her waist, lifting her and pulling her against his arousal.

Desperation and desire swirled together inside Faith like a whirlpool. She had waited a lifetime to feel what she was feeling now with Shane Callan, but once the danger had passed, he would be gone, and she would be left with a lifetime to wish she’d never laid eyes on him.

Shane was fighting his own inner battle. He knew to get too close to Faith Kincaid emotionally would be disastrous for both of them. Circumstances dictated that he offer her nothing but protection. Still, he had never known such a fierce desire to possess.

“I want you,” he whispered against her lips, simplifying the problem to the lowest common denominator. The ache of his need was not going to lessen. Their circumstances were not going to change. The only solution was to draw a line-satisfy the physical desire, safe in the knowledge that neither would ask for anything more from the other.

Faith didn’t have to hear the words to know what Shane was proposing. He wasn’t the kind of man to make empty promises. He wasn’t talking about love, but sex. For her there would be no separation of the two. As much as she wished she weren’t, she was in love with him. She wanted him, but she wanted his heart as well as his body. And while he stood nearly naked in the circle of her arms, more than ready to make good on his claim, she knew his body was all he was willing to give her.

“I don’t know if I can deal with this,” she said, deciding to take the coward’s way out for the moment. She stepped out of his embrace, immediately feeling cold and alone. “You should go back to bed. You need your rest.”

“That’s not my only need. What about you, Faith? A woman has needs too.”

How true, she thought. She had physical needs, needs that had long been neglected, needs that seemed to double and triple when she was in the same room with him. At this very moment her whole body was throbbing with the need he aroused in her. Her breasts swelled for his touch. The feminine core of her ached with an emptiness she wanted only Shane to fill. But her needs went beyond the physical, and his offer didn’t.

Shane sighed and raked a hand back through his tousled hair. “I won’t lie to you, Faith. I want a physical relationship with you, but I can’t give you anything more. That may sound callous, but it’s necessary. I think it’s best to be honest up front.”

She wanted to call him a liar despite what he’d said. He wouldn’t want her to be honest. He wouldn’t want to hear she was in love with him. Faith knew that as sure as she knew her own name. Shane was a man who shunned emotional entanglements. Even in his sleep he had tried to push her away. The man needed love, but she was certain he wouldn’t want it if she offered it to him on a platter.

“I have to put Lindy to bed,” she said, turning away from him, exhaustion weighing down on her like a huge stone.

Shane nodded, letting her walk away even though his body was aching for release. If she felt half the attraction he did, she wouldn’t be able to deny it for long. If nothing else, she would end up using it as an excuse to escape her other problems for a few brief hours. And that would be just as well, he thought, for all concerned. That kind of escape was the only thing he had to offer her. “I’ll be here when you change your mind.”

Faith paused at the door, almost smiling at his choice of words. She didn’t look back at him as her heart asked the question she didn’t dare voice-You’ll be here when I change my mind, but will you be here afterward?