Shane's gaze swept her thoroughly as he passed her a long, man-sized navy robe.
Then he took note of the clothes she'd handed him and his touch lingered on the red,
lacy bra and matching panties. He rubbed one of the satin bra cups between his fingers.
Emma could feel that caress in her own body and she imagined his fingers on her
breasts, caressing her nipples. The vivid fantasy sent renewed sensual shock through
her.
"Red lace," he said huskily. "I never would have guessed. I imagined you in plain
white cotton. Very utilitarian."
She'd never been bold in her life, at least not as outspoken as she felt around this
man. His outrageous statement spurred her to speak. "You imagined my underwear,
Shane?"
He leaned against the doorjamb. His gaze danced over her with slow, intimate
precision. "Yeah. More than once."
Okay, he wanted to intimidate her with his constant innuendo. Two could play at
this game. "Why?"
He snorted a laugh. "I'm a man. You're a beautiful woman. It's natural."
Beautiful? Not only had she never considered herself beautiful in a million years,
but no man had ever called her that. Temporarily stunned, she swallowed hard.
She made a quick decision. If he was playing games with her and trying to
disconcert her so much she'd run from the excavation without looking back, she had a
surprise for him. She smiled. "You sure know how to insult a woman."
His dark brows lowered. "Insult? I just told you that you're beautiful. How is that
an insult?"
"Oh, not that. The fact you thought I'd wear white underwear."
He grunted. "Isn't that just like a woman? Outraged that I'd imagine her underwear
in the first place, then insulted because I imagined the color the wrong shade."
She kept her expression nonchalant. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been
as confused about her feelings for a man. Especially when he watched her like…that.
With a simmering audacity that did funny things to her breath and weakened her
resolve.
"I'll go make some coffee," he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
She nodded and closed the door, feeling naked and vulnerable. Once she'd bundled
into the heavy terry robe, she felt more secure. Shane's manly scent lingered on the
robe. The softness against her skin, plus the scent, about drove her nuts.
She came out of the bedroom in time to hear him talking in low tones on a cell
phone. He stood in the living room close to the end of the hall. She halted.
"I don't like the way this is going any better than you, Dorky. Wilder was out of
control."
Dorky? What kind of name was that? A woman's at the very least. Deep suspicion rose
within her, and with it a kernel of fear took root and grew.
"No," he said. "Charlie started growling right before the rain came but it sure as
hell wasn't the storm she was growling at."
Emma almost confronted him right then but decided to wait and see if the
conversation became more specific.
"No. She doesn't know anything. And she isn't going to find anything out as long
as we do this right. I'm beginning to think she is clueless about what's really happening.
Look, I'd like to talk about this but she's in the house. Can I call you later?"
Afraid he'd find her skulking in the hall, she darted back to his room and closed the
door softly. She was about to open the door again, this time much louder, when a
photograph on his dresser caught her attention. She walked over and lifted the black
and white photo. Surrounded by a heavy, dark wood frame, the eight-by-ten showed a
young woman with dark hair and a round face sitting in a chair cradling a baby in her
arms. Behind the woman was a handsome man in a suit and tie, his short dark hair
neat. His hands clasped the young woman's shoulders, his expression proud and aloof.
Shane's parents?
The man's resemblance to Shane couldn't be denied, but she saw something cold
and unfeeling in the man's eyes. Shane's attempts with her to come off as cool and
distant often faltered. She'd seen a multitude of emotions cross his face. Anger.
Exasperation. Concern. Maybe even gentleness. Most definitely passion and desire.
The bedroom door opened and she jerked in surprise as she hastily put down the
photograph. It tipped and fell over, and Emma gasped, horrified that she might have
broken the frame. She quickly righted the photograph and saw it was unharmed.
"What do you think you are doing?" Shane asked, his gaze raking over her as he
walked into the bedroom.
"I'm sorry. I saw this photo and—"
"Thought you'd be nosy?"
He'd caught her red-handed, but a perversity within her wouldn't allow her to
admit fault. "It's a beautiful photo. Who are they?"
He picked up the photograph, irritation reflected in the stiffness of his face and
body. "My parents. And me."
"You look like a very happy family."
He snorted in derision. "Look is the operative word. Don't believe everything you
see."
"You weren't happy?"
"Maybe we were. Once."
Moved by the tumult behind his carefully controlled words, she gave in to the
temptation to discover more. "But not always."
He shrugged and started toward the bedroom door. "What family is?"
His words caught Emma in the solar plexus. What family is? She'd fooled herself for
years thinking her family life could be called idyllic. A warm, happy place she could
retreat to from outside worries. Maybe that was what hurt the most. Realizing that just
because she pretended her family was happy didn't make it so. A fantasy was a fantasy.
"Families are complicated," she said softly. "Sometimes, like you say, they look
carefree on the outside, but on the inside they harbor hate and mistrust."
He turned back to her, his hand resting on the doorknob. He smiled, his grin more
sardonic than an expression of mirth. "What do you know about it?"
The clipped, sharp words hurt but she resisted the urge to snap back. She wanted to
tell him about Doug, about his death. She wanted to explain that she knew about pain
within a family more than he'd ever comprehend. But his unbendable stance and the
tension humming from him unnerved her. Would he move toward her or away from
her? Toward her was definitely scary. More so because she realized she wanted him to
touch her again. Wanted his arms around her again, his lips on hers.
God, this is absurd.
As tempting as having his arms around her sounded, she had to remember that
Shane held too many secrets. She wouldn't give up her private life to a man who held
back from her and might plan something nefarious.
"I heard you talking on the phone just now," she said. "I take it the conversation
pertained to me?"
His face hardened, but she saw uncertainty flicker in his eyes. "I was talking to my
uncle."
Right. So he was willing to lie to her.
"I think I'd better leave," she said.
"Your clothes aren't even dry. Where do you think you're going?"
She walked toward him and hoped he'd move away from the door. "Anywhere I
damn well please."
He didn't. "Not in this storm. I listened to the radio a moment ago and they predict
it'll get worse before it gets better. Power and phone lines are down in several areas."
"The rain has almost stopped."
He crossed his arms. "I'm not letting you leave here until it's safe. The arroyos in
the area fill with water, and the dirt roads are often deep with mud."
"I can go back to the hotel."
His gaze narrowed. "You're jumpy as hell. What's the matter?"
Emma looked around the room, cataloging possible routes of escape. "Nothing is
wrong." She sidestepped him and went for the bedroom door. "The rain is letting up. I
need to get back to the site and see if it's been damaged."
"Emma—" He caught up to her in the hall and grabbed her arm.
Instinctively she jerked back and Shane released her. "Don't touch me."
His eyes hardened. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Just give me my clothes, and I'll be out of your way."
"I told you, they're in the dryer. I put your jeans and shirt in first." He leaned
against the wall next to the kitchen door. "I almost put your tamale red underwear in
with them until I realized they might shrink."
Her mouth popped open but she said nothing. What could she say to a provocative
comment like that? She cleared her throat. "Don't try to argue me out of this. I need to
check on the site. The way rain was coming down earlier it probably weighted down
the tarp and the rocks may not have held. For all I know the whole pit might be washed
out."
He threw his hands up in the air. "And what if it is? What are you going to do? You
can't repair it while it's still raining."
Emma didn't give a rat's ass about logic. She wanted out of his house. At that
moment, a knock sounded on the door.
* * *
Chapter Seven
Shane glanced out the window and gritted his teeth. A police car sat in his
driveway.
"I'll get my clothes," Emma said, quickly heading for the utility room.
Another knock sounded on the door and Shane went to answer. Standing outside
the front door was tall, pipe cleaner-thin Officer Hank Reddins. Shane's stomach felt
like a rock had settled into it. Shane respected the police chief of Gambit Creek, but his
discussions with Reddins always seemed unfriendly. The man had a serious attitude
problem.
Reddins reached for his brown hat and took it off.
"Reddins," Shane said. "Don't tell me what you're here for because I can already
guess."
The officer's frown created deep furrows next to his small mouth. "I got a complaint
from Grant Wilder. Says you punched him and that Charlie attacked him."
Shane let Reddins come inside the house. "Yeah, I punched him. And Charlie
grabbed his pants leg."
Reddins gestured toward the window. "Who owns that Explorer?"
Shane shut the door. "Emma Baker. Wilder's partner."
The officer's expression sharpened. "What on earth is she doing here?"
"We got soaked out at the site and came here to dry off."
Shane thought Reddins' eyes reflected skepticism and he wondered if the scarecrow
of a man would start rumors back in town. Like any small town, Gambit Creek had its
share of gossips. He almost laughed. They'd proved time and again how much they
enjoyed making up crap about him. While that didn't bother him, he didn't want Emma
dragged into controversy.
"Tell me what happened at the excavation." Officer Reddins sank into a chair by the
fireplace. "Don't leave anything out."
Shane dropped into a leather recliner and gave him the details. Reddins took
methodical notes, stopping to ask more questions and to have him repeat certain parts.
Shane reiterated the part where he punched Grant and Charlie had jumped into the
fight, when Emma appeared from the hall dressed in her dry jeans and shirt. Her hair
lay in damp waves over her shoulders.
"Emma, this is Officer Hank Reddins. Wilder did as he promised."
Officer Reddins stood and shook hands with her. "Miss Baker, I'd like to speak with
you alone about the incident."
Shane slipped out of the chair and started for the back of the house. "Don't let me
stop you. I'll be outside."
Emma noted the tight set to Shane's mouth as he left and the crusty demeanor of
the cop. With trepidation she sat on one of the leather sofas. This was turning out to be
a weird day all the way around. Reddins requisitioned a rocker. He shifted his hat in his
hands then used his knee as a hat rack. His thin, stringy brown hair defied gravity. He
reached up and pushed the recalcitrant hair back into place.
"Miss Baker—"
"Emma, please."
"Emma." He smiled, the movement cracking his face into an unattractive mass of
wrinkles. "Can you explain what happened at the site today?"
She related the incident at the site, and when she finished he gazed into the distance
and rubbed his chin for several moments before he spoke. "Mr. Wilder says that
O'Donnell pushed him."
Emma wished she could clench her hands around Grant's neck for making an
international incident out of the fight. "Only after Grant shoved him twice in the chest
and after Grant accidentally pushed me onto the ground."
The police officer frowned and leaned forward in the chair. "O'Donnell claims Mr.
Wilder deliberately pushed you."
She shook her head vehemently and shifted on her seat. "In my opinion, both men
So…when Grant pushed me down, Shane thought Grant had done it on purpose."
"Wilder said he pushed you out of the way because he thought O'Donnell was
coming after you."
Angry heat climbed up the back of her neck. Oh, Grant. What do you think you're
doing? "That's ridiculous. I came up behind Grant and grabbed his arm to pull him
back. I was trying to stop him from antagonizing Shane."
Reddins looked away as if pondering the difference in perceptions. "O'Donnell said
you came back to the ranch house with him to dry off after the rain."
Wary, Emma wondered where the man intended to head with his questioning.
"Yes."
"Mr. Wilder's worried for your safety. He was pretty convincing when I spoke with
him."
Shane might be hiding something from her about the site, but she didn't believe
he'd harm her physically. Not after the way he'd reacted to Grant pushing her down.
She leaned forward. "There's nothing for Grant to worry about."
"I'd be a little more cautious about going somewhere with strange men."
"But Shane's not a stranger. I mean…"
When she faded off, Reddins smiled. She saw keen disbelief reach his eyes. "I've
seen too many women stumble into tight spots because they didn't take steps to protect
themselves. Tends to make me sensitive to the issue. I'd remain cautious around here.
We may live out in the country but that doesn't mean there aren't dangers."
The officer's intensity piqued her interest. "Are you trying to tell me something
about Shane?"
"He's a strange bird. Some people around here think he's hiding something up here
on the ranch. Maybe Sadie Cutley's treasure."
Emma wondered if Shane did know something more about Sadie Cutley's treasure.
It would explain the reason why he wanted
her off his land so quickly. Then again, if
he'd already found the treasure, she doubted it would still be anywhere near the dig. So
why would he worry about her excavation?
She jumped into the fray without thinking. "I heard that he threatened some
Chester College students with a rifle when they went to ask him about the possibility of
excavation."
He pursed his lips slightly. "I don't know how much of it's truth or fiction. I wasn't
here at the time. But it wouldn't surprise me."
"Is there any way I could find out if it's true?"
"You could ask the police chief, but I wouldn't recommend it. I'm not sure if the
chief would appreciate it, and if Shane found out he could make things difficult for
you."
"God, I hope not."
Her deadpan smile didn't produce an answering grin from Reddins. "I wouldn't
advise riling the man. You never know what he might do."
Despite Reddins' unrelenting skepticism, she couldn't imagine Shane anything
more than arrogant and pushy. But dangerous? She reassessed her opinion of Shane yet
again. After that revealing conversation and his reluctance to let her go, she had felt
edgy around him. Confusion warred in her mind with a desire to defend Shane.
Reddins leaned back in the chair and rocked gently. "So you don't wish to press
charges against Mr. Wilder for pushing you down?"
"Of course not. It was all a misunderstanding. Shane gave us an ultimatum of one
week to finish the excavation. That's what is causing all this friction in the first place.
Grant lost his cool."
"I'll talk to Mr. Wilder again and see if he honestly wants to pursue these charges."
"Shane shouldn't be punished for what happened. I'll talk to Grant too. I might be
able to get him to back off."
Reddins stood up. "I don't know. He was pretty riled when he came into the
station." He started to head for the front door then he turned around to look at her, his
small eyes serious. "I'd keep clear of O'Donnell."
As she let him out the front door, she wondered if she was crazy for staying there a
moment longer. When the police cruiser pulled out of the driveway, she made a break
for it before Shane came back inside. She hastily scribbled Shane a note thanking him