Barbara McCauley - Secrets and Desire - Best-Kept Lies / Miss Pruitt's Private Life / Secrets, Lies...and Passion

“It’s been a while since the cabin’s been inhabited.”

“A long while, I’d guess. Come on, baby, it’s time to check out our new digs.” She hauled Joshua in his carrier up creaky porch steps as Kurt, with the aid of a flashlight and another key, opened a door that creaked as it swung inward.

Kurt tried a light switch. Nothing. Just a loud click. “Juice isn’t turned on, I guess.”

“Fabulous.”

He found a lantern and struck a match. Immediately the room was flooded with a soft golden glow that couldn’t hide the dust, cobwebs and general malaise of the place. The floor was scarred fir, the ceiling pine was stained where rainwater had seeped inside and it smelled of must and years of neglect.

“Home sweet home,” she cracked.

“For the time being.” But Kurt was already stalking through the small rooms, running his flashlight along the floor and ceiling. “We won’t have electricity, but we’ll manage.”

“So no hot water, light or heat.”

“But a woodstove and lanterns. We’ll be okay.”

“What about a bathroom?”

He shook his head. “There’s an old pump on the porch and, if you’ll give me a minute—” he looked in a few cupboards and closets before coming up with a bucket “—voila! An old fashioned Porta Potti.”

“Give me a break,” she muttered.

“Come on, you’re a McCafferty. Rustic living should be a piece of cake.”

“Let me give you a clue, Striker. This is waaaay beyond rustic.”

“I heard you were a tomboy growing up.”

“Slade talks too much.”

“Probably. But you used to camp all the time.”

“In the summers. I was twelve or thirteen.”

“It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how.”

“We’ll see.” But she didn’t complain as they hauled in equipment that had been loaded into the Jeep. Sleeping bags, canned goods, a cooler for fresh food, cooking equipment, paper plates, propane stove, towels and toilet paper. “You thought this through.”

“I just told Eric to pack the essentials.”

“What about a phone?”

“Our cells should work.”

Scrounging in her purse, she found her phone, yanked it out and turned it on. The back-lit message wasn’t encouraging. “Looking for service,” she read aloud, and watched as the cell failed to find a signal. “Hopefully yours is stronger.”

He flashed her a grin that seemed to sizzle in the dim light. “I already checked. It works.”

“So what about a phone jack to link up my laptop?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Looks like you’re out of luck unless you’ve got one of those wireless hookups.”

“Not a prayer.”

“Then you’ll have to be out of touch for a while.”

“Great,” she muttered. “I don’t suppose it matters that I could lose my job over this.”

“Better than your life.”

She was about to reply, when the baby began to cry. Quickly, Randi mixed formula with some of the bottled water she’d brought, then pulled off dust cloths from furniture that looked as if it was in style around the end of World War II. Joshua was really cranking it up by the time Randi plopped herself into a rocking chair and braced herself for the sound of scurrying feet as mice skittered out from the old cushions. Fortunately, as she settled into the chair, no protesting squeaks erupted, nor did any little scurrying rodent make a mad dash to the darker corners. With the baby’s blanket wrapped around him, she fed her son and felt a few seconds’ relaxation as his wails subsided and he ate hungrily from the bottle. There was a peace to holding her baby, a calm that kept her fears and worries at bay. He looked up at her as he ate, and in those precious, bonding moments, she never once doubted that her affair with Sam Donahue was worth every second of her later regrets.

Kurt was busy checking the flue, starting a fire in an antique-looking woodstove. Once the fire was crackling, he rocked back on his heels and dusted his hands. She tried not to notice how his jacket stretched at the shoulders or the way his jeans fit snug around his hips and buttocks. Nor did she want to observe that his hair fell in an unruly lock over his forehead, or that his cheekbones were strong enough to hint at some long-forgotten Native American heritage.

He was too damn sexy for his own good.

As if sensing her watching him, he straightened slowly and she was given a bird’s-eye view of his long back as he stretched, then walked to a black beat-up leather case and unzipped it. Out came a laptop computer complete with wireless connection device.

He glanced over his shoulder, his green eyes glinting in amusement.

“You could have said something,” she charged.

“And miss seeing you get ticked off? No way. But this isn’t the be-all and end-all. I have one extra battery. No more. Since there’s no electricity here, the juice won’t last forever.”

“Wonderful,” she said, lifting her baby to her shoulder and gently rubbing his back.

“It’s better than nothing.”

“Can I use it?”

“For a small fee,” he said as the corners of his mouth twitched.

“You are so full of it.”

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

“You never do, Striker.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

Joshua gave a loud burp. “There we go, big guy,” she whispered as she spread his blanket on a pad and changed his diaper. The baby kicked and gurgled, his eyes bright in the firelight. “Oh, you’re full of the devil, aren’t you?” She played with him a few more minutes until he yawned and sighed. Randi held him and swayed a little as he nodded off. She couldn’t imagine what life would have been like without this precious little boy. She kissed his soft crown, and as his breathing became regular and his head heavy, she placed him upon the makeshift crib of blankets and pillows, then glanced around the stark, near-empty cabin. “We really are in the middle of no-darned-where.”

“That was the general idea.”

She ran a finger through the dust on an old scarred table. “No electricity, no indoor plumbing, no television, radio or even any good books lying around.”

“I guess we’ll just have to make do and find some way to amuse ourselves.” His expression was positively wicked, his eyes glittering with amusement. That he could find even the tiniest bit of humor in this vile situation was something, she thought, though she didn’t like the way her throat caught when he stared at her, nor the way blood went rushing through her veins as he cocked an arrogant eyebrow.

“I think we’ll do just fine,” she said, hoping to sound frosty when, in fact, her voice was more than a tad breathless. Damn it all, she didn’t like the idea of being trapped here with him in the middle of God-only-knew-where, didn’t like feeling vulnerable not only to whoever was stalking her, but also to the warring emotions she felt whenever she was around Striker. Don’t even go there , she told herself. All you have to do is get through the next few days. By then, if he does his job the way he’s supposed to, he’ll catch the bad guy and you can reclaim your life. Then, you’ll be safe. You and your baby can start over .

Unless something goes wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong .

She glanced again at Striker.

Whether she liked it or not, she was stuck with him.

Things could be worse.

Less than two hours later, Striker’s phone jangled.

He jumped and snapped it open. “Striker.”

“It’s Kelly. I’ve got information.”

Finally! He leaned a hip against an old windowsill and watched as Randi, glasses perched on the end of her nose, looked up from his laptop. “News?”