After dusting his hands on his jeans, Kane sat down next to her on the floor, allowing the slightly weathered couch to support his head and shoulders. His long legs stretched in front of him, and nearly reached the warm red coals of the fire. Erin silently offered him a sandwich which he gratefully accepted, and between bites he explained.
“As you already know, I’m looking for a permanent residence for Krista and myself in Seattle. I read the classified ads every day, hoping to find something suitable.” He paused to open the wine and poured the cool clear liquid into the paper cups. The light from the fire reflected and danced against the deep green bottle and in his clear gray eyes.
“Anyway—” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t all that important “—I came across an ad for this place. I’ve always had a fascination for the sea and the wilderness, not to mention rustic old cabins. And I thought it would be good for Krista. This place sounded perfect.”
Erin nearly choked on the wine that she had been sipping. She eyed the interior of the cabin speculatively. “You’re not telling me that you bought this place sight unseen?” she gasped, unable to shake the astounded look from her face. It hardly seemed “perfect” for anyone, much less an eleven-year-old girl bound to a wheelchair! Erin surveyed the living quarters more closely. The old cabin needed a lot of work. The cleaning alone would take several days, and the varnish on the pine walls was cracking and beginning to peel. There was no hot water, the floors needed to be refinished, and the furniture—all of it needed to be replaced or repaired. The list of jobs seemed endless to her practiced eye.
Kane watched Erin with obvious amusement. The deep-timbred tones of his laughter drew her attention back to him. “No,” he laughed, “I haven’t bought this place. In fact, this weekend is just a trial run. A widow owns the place, but she hasn’t been up here since her husband died a couple of years ago. She knows that I’m interested in buying it, but she agreed to rent it to me for the weekend—to look around for myself.”
“You’re really serious about buying it?” Erin gasped. “It doesn’t even have electricity!”
“Part of its charm, wouldn’t you say?” He grinned at her obvious dismay.
“It’s your money,” she conceded with a dismissive shrug, and took another sip of her wine. The bright embers from the fire and the heady effect of the wine lured her into a serene sense of complacency. She watched Kane over the rim of her cup, and noticed the mood swing that seemed to come over him.
At her offhand comment about money, Kane stiffened. “That it is,” he agreed almost inaudibly. He set the remains of his uneaten dinner aside, and stared into the orange and black coals of the fire. His mood had indeed shifted, and Erin, even in her peaceful state, could sense that the tension was coiling within him again.
The fire crackled and popped as it burned the pitch-darkened wood. The movements of the flames reflected in menacing shadows over the angular structure of Kane’s masculine face. His question surprised Erin.
“Did you know that Mitchell Cameron’s arraignment hearing is scheduled for late this week?” he asked in an accusatory voice. Gray eyes slid sideways, trying to catch her reaction. His pose was relaxed, his hands crossed comfortably over his chest, but Erin could sense the strain due to the twist in the conversation, and saw the tense rigidity of the muscles in his face.
“I read about it in the paper,” she replied unevenly. Carefully, with nervous hands, she set aside the rest of her suddenly unappetizing sandwich and took another drink from her cup. The cool wine felt smooth against the rough texture of her throat. Mitchell Cameron had become a taboo subject between Erin and Kane, a topic that was never brought out into the open. It was as if, by silent agreement, neither person would chance the subject of Mitch. For reasons Erin didn’t understand, the subject of Mitch was a potential powder keg. Why then, tonight, would Kane turn the conversation in Mitch’s direction?
Kane’s voice broke into her fragmented thoughts. “There’s a chance that I’ll be out of town at the time of the hearing.”
“But don’t you have to testify?”
“I’ve already signed a sworn deposition,” was the clipped reply. “I’m sure it will satisfy the court.”
“Oh, Kane.” Erin sighed, suddenly feeling very tired and unnerved. “Are you sure that you want to prosecute Mitch?” she asked, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder.
He withdrew as quickly as if he had been seared by her touch. Twisting his head to meet her startled gaze, he drew his lips into a thin and menacingly grim line. “Is that what this is all about?” he demanded, and grabbed her wrist harshly.
“What—I don’t understand!”
“Is that what you want, for me to drop the charges against your ex-employer? Is that why you’ve been so willing?” Steely eyes swept over her body and charged her with a crime she couldn’t understand.
“Why, you…bastard!” she gasped, suddenly understanding at least a part of his vicious accusation. Involuntarily she drew her free hand backward in an effort to slap him. But she stopped in midswing as the same tortured look that she had seen so often in the past softened the severity of his dark gaze.
He dropped her wrist and closed his eyes for a second. “I’m sorry,” he whispered huskily.
“You should be!”
“All right!” He reached a hesitant hand to her cheek and caressed its regal lines with exploring and sensitive fingers. “I have no choice,” he assured her. “I have to prosecute Cameron. The board of directors would insist upon it, the bonding insurance company….”
“But if you did have a choice?” Liquid violet eyes melted into his, and he drew his caressing hand away from her face.
“Nothing would change! I would still prosecute!” He stood up and put some distance between her body and his. He found it difficult to think when he looked at her or touched her. She was too close to him and to the truth. Perhaps, even now, she knew that he suspected her of involvement in the embezzlement. He had to be cautious with her—or did he? Damn it! Never in his life had he let a woman come between him and his purpose in life. Never had a woman been so intimately involved in his private thoughts. Dear God, why did it have to be this woman who attracted him so achingly? His thoughts weighed heavily on him, and he leaned against the broad mantel of the fireplace and let his head rest against the worn wood. He needed time to think, time alone, to put his life in perspective. It was a mistake bringing her to this isolated haven; he should have realized that before he insisted that she accompany him. How could he have been such a fool? Where was his common sense? His voice, a throaty whisper, crept across the thick silence that separated them.
“Can’t you understand, Erin?” he pleaded. “Mitchell Cameron is a crook, and he has to pay.”
“But surely, as president of the bank, with your influence…”
His gray eyes held hers frozen. “Oh, God, Erin. My influence has nothing to do with my responsibility!”
“Why is the subject of Mitch always so difficult?”
“You tell me!”