Part 5 (1/2)
Maybe the train tickets had been a red herring, and Ca.s.sie was wrong about Lucas setting up the kidnapping. But why would anyone else kidnap Zack? What had the kidnappers hoped to accomplish? And, just as Will had noted, why take the boy to Wolf Point, Montana, to a rest home? Why no ransom demand?
When Lucas hadn't shown up by the second time the kidnappers took Zack to the rest home, Sam had known she had to act-and quickly. She'd left a message with the head nurse for Lucas to call her on her cell phone, and she'd grabbed Zack from the kidnappers.
She'd counted on Lucas calling, convinced he was alive and had set this up to be with his son. But if that were true, then where was he? Why hadn't he called? Maybe something had detained him or- She didn't like to consider the alternative. That something had happened to him.
But if she was wrong about the kidnapping, then maybe she was wrong about why the kidnappers had taken Zack to the rest home. Were they looking for Lucas for another reason aside from giving him his son? Or were they looking for something else?
She closed her eyes, her head aching. There was only one thing she could be sure of: Lucas loved his son and wouldn't have left him unless he had to. She knew Lucas.
She leaned down to brush a lock of hair back from the boy's face, feeling a surge of affection so strong it almost dropped her to her knees. This child could have been hers. Should have been hers.
Those kinds of thoughts got her nowhere, she reminded herself. Instead she needed to concentrate on getting Zack safely to Seattle. Then what? Ideally, Lucas would turn up with a good explanation for his disappearance.
But she wasn't counting on that. Ca.s.sie had hinted that Lucas might be in some sort of trouble. If she wanted answers, she'd have to get them from Ca.s.sie. Or Zack. She suspected the boy knew as much as anyone about what was going on. But for some reason, he was either afraid or unwilling to tell her.
When she'd questioned him last night, he'd definitely seemed frightened. But why wouldn't he be? His father was missing and strangers had kidnapped him. That would be enough to scare any kid.
She shook her head. Normally, she operated on instinct. But now her instincts were telling her they couldn't be trusted. She was too personally involved. Add to that Will Sheridan. No wonder she was having nightmares.
As she turned to leave the room, she caught sight of Will, his long lean male body stretched the length of the couch in the living room. He'd also been in her dream. Her skin flushed at the memory. That part of the dream had left her aching, just as his kiss had.
Irritably she quickly showered and dressed, then dialed the Lazy Rest. No one had called for Gladdie O'Brien. Nor had Lucas...o...b..ien come by. She hung up and headed for the kitchen.
Cooking. It was the one activity that could get her mind off everything else. Usually. Unless the object of her distraction was visible through the doorway. It was the one activity that could get her mind off everything else. Usually. Unless the object of her distraction was visible through the doorway.
What had that kiss of his been about last night? Payback?
She began to beat up a coffee cake, banging the pan, thinking about men. Thinking about the one in the living room, in particular.
WILL WOKE to the banging of pots and pans. He sat up, startled and confused. It took him a moment to remember where he was. And why. He groaned and fell back onto the couch with thoughts of pulling the covers over his head and going back to sleep.
But Samantha wasn't having any of that. The noise in the kitchen grew louder. He peeked over the back of the couch and saw her slamming around, looking out of sorts. What had made him think he'd want to wake up to that face every morning?
He got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen, noticing his clothing looked like he'd slept in it. He had. It was something he'd never imagined himself doing-before yesterday.
”Anything I can do to help?” he asked from directly behind her.
She let out a satisfying yelp of surprise and dropped one of the pans.
He picked it up and handed it to her. ”Sleep well?” he enquired. She smelled heavenly, her hair still damp, her skin glowing.
”Not as well as you, it appears.”
He actually felt pretty good, considering the couch had been a little short for him and he'd had trouble getting to sleep after the kiss. But once he'd drifted off, he'd slept wonderfully, although too briefly. ”Must have been the mountain air.”
”Humph,” she said.
He watched her, perversely enjoying the thought that their kiss might have disturbed her sleep. Her kiss at the party certainly had more than disturbed him. him.
He knew it wasn't fair to blame her because she hadn't turned out to be the woman he'd thought she was. But he couldn't help himself. She'd definitely looked the part at the party. But that had been the point, hadn't it? To fool people? Well, she'd fooled him, all right.
He caught a whiff of the intriguing scents emanating from the oven and was again reminded of her culinary skills-although he did wonder what she'd done with her gun.
As the coffeemaker finished, he helped himself to a cup and poured one for her, as well.
She took it almost contritely. ”Thanks.” Her gaze touched his, and he saw something in her eyes that surprised him. Fear.
”Wanna talk about it?”
She shook her head and turned her back to him as she continued making breakfast. ”I'm just worried about Zack's father.”
He stepped around to her side so he could see her profile. ”He hasn't turned up?”
She shook her head again. ”I'd hoped he would by now.”
He nodded, wanting to cup her face in his hands and kiss away her fears. But her fears were real, and his kisses only had the power to make matters worse. Ultimately, he was heading back to Billings. Samantha to Seattle and whatever awaited her there, then back to b.u.t.te. They'd made their choices a long time ago.
”Something sure smells good,” he said.
She gave him a small smile, acknowledging his change of subject. ”I just whipped up a coffee cake and a frittata. If you'd get down the plates-”
”You've got it.” He pa.s.sed close enough to her in the small kitchen that he could feel her body heat. She seemed to radiate a sensual warmth that drew him more powerfully than gravity. He hurriedly set the table.
”My cousin's about your size,” she said.
He looked up and realized she'd caught him inspecting his wrinkled linen slacks.
”I can scare you up some clean clothes, and there're fresh towels in the bathroom,” she said.
Under normal circ.u.mstances he wouldn't have borrowed clothing. Especially from Samantha's cousin. If that was who really owned the place. But just the thought of a shower and clean clothes sounded so...normal.
He took a hot shower, letting the water pour over him the way thoughts of Samantha did. He felt anxious, too aware of the woman in the next room, too aware of his desire for her. He unconsciously made a mental list, which, of course, ended heavily weighted on the con side. What was he doing? He knew she wasn't what he was looking for. No reason to flog a dead horse.
When he stepped out of the shower, he found clean jeans, a T-s.h.i.+rt, socks, boxers and a s.h.i.+rt waiting for him. The thought that she'd come in while he was in the shower did nothing to curb his longing. An image of the two of them in the tub together, soapy and pink from the heat, flashed into his head. He groaned, turned on the cold water in the shower and stepped back in.
When he got out again, he heard the cell phone ring and Samantha answer it. Quietly, he cracked open the bathroom door, shocked that he was eavesdropping.
Worse yet, that he was letting himself be drawn deeper into this-whatever it was. He was too intrigued with ”Sam” Murphy and too worried about her little pickpocket ward.
”I'VE BEEN TRYING to reach you,” Sam said, unable to keep the admonition out of her voice. It had been two days since she'd gotten the frantic call from Ca.s.sie about Zack's kidnapping. Two days and no word since, although she'd left messages at the number Ca.s.sie had given her. The number, it turned out, was an answering service in Seattle.
”Have you heard from Lucas?”
”Nothing,” Ca.s.sie said. ”The police are still looking for him in connection with the burglary at Whiz Kidz.”
”Whiz Kidz?” she asked.