Nora Roberts - Times Change

There was no car, no truck, not even a snowmobile, outside the cabin. The idea of him hitchhiking from the highway was ludicrous. A man didn’t simply walk into the mountains in January. At least not if he was sane.

With a shudder, she stepped back from the window. Maybe that was the answer. Jacob Hornblower wasn’t just a jerk. He was a deranged jerk.

That was an awfully big leap, she told herself. Just because she didn’t like him wasn’t a good enough reason to assume he was crazy. After all, he was Cal’s brother, and over the past year Sunny had become very fond of Cal. Brother Jacob might be an annoying, interfering pain in the neck but that didn’t mean he had loose screws.

And yet . . .

Hadn’t she thought he was weird? Hadn’t he acted weird? She looked out the window again, but the only sign of him was the fresh tracks in the snow.

Cal seemed normal enough, she mused, but what did any of them know about his family or his background? Next to nothing. It had always seemed to Sunny that her brother-in-law was strangely close-mouthed when it came to his family. She glanced back toward the window again. Maybe he had his reasons.

The man had acted odd right from the start, Sunny decided. The way he’d come into the house unannounced to stand in her bedroom and pore over a copy of Vogue as if it were the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Then there was his behavior in the kitchen. Playing with the faucet. And staring. It was as though he’d never seen a stove or refrigerator before. Or hadn’t seen one in a very long time. Her mind was jumping like a rabbit. Because he’d been locked up, she thought. Put away where he wasn’t a danger to society.

Catching her lip between her teeth, she began to pace again. Her foot connected with his flight bag. Jolting backward, Sunny stared at it. He’d forgotten it. That meant he would be coming back.

Well, she could handle it. She could take care of herself. Rubbing her palms against her thighs, she stared down at the bag. But it wouldn’t do any harm to take a few precautions.

Going on impulse, she knelt down. Invasion of privacy or not, she was going to look through the bag. It was odd itself. No zipper or straps. The Velcro peeled apart almost soundlessly. Casting one guilty look over her shoulder, she began to dig.

A change of clothes. Another sweater, black this time. No label. The jeans were soft and obviously expensive, though there was no designer name on the back pocket. No label anywhere. And they were new. She would have sworn they had never been worn. Setting them aside, she pushed deeper. She found a vial marked fluoratyne that contained a clear liquid, and a pair of high-top sneakers in supple leather. No shaving gear, she mused, no mirror. Not even a toothbrush. Just a set of obviously new clothes and a vial that might very well contain some kind of drug.

Her last discovery was the most puzzling of all. An electronic device, no bigger than the palm of her hand, was tucked in the corner of the bag. Circular in shape, it was hinged back. When she opened it she saw a series of tiny buttons. After touching the first, she jumped back at the sound of Jacob’s voice.

As clear as a bell, it came from the circle of metal in her hand. He was reciting equations, as far as she could tell. Neither the numbers nor the terms meant anything to her. But the fact that they were emitted by the little disk opened up new realms of possibility.

He was a spy. Probably for the other side. Whatever the other side was. And from his behavior it was natural to assume that he was an unbalanced spy. Imagination had never been Sunny’s weak point. She could see it all perfectly.

He had been captured. Whatever techniques had been used to pull information from him had unhinged his mind. Cal had covered for him, making up a story about his brother being an astrophysicist, too deep in research to travel to the West Coast, when in reality he had been in some sort of federal institution. And now he’d escaped.

Sunny pushed buttons at random until Jacob’s voice clicked off. She would have to treat him carefully. Whatever her personal feelings, he was family. She’d have to make absolutely certain he was a dangerous lunatic before she did anything about it.

***

A stupid, often annoying person. Jacob scowled at the puff of smoke he saw through the last line of trees. He didn’t care for the definition of jerk. Being called annoying didn’t bother him in the least. But stupid did. He would not tolerate some skinny woman who considered the combustion engine the height of technology calling him stupid.

He’d gotten quite a bit done overnight. His ship was well camouflaged, and his records had been brought up to date. Including his infuriating encounter with Sunbeam Stone. It hadn’t been until sunrise that he’d remembered his flight bag.

If she hadn’t made him lose his temper, he would never have left it behind. Not that it contained anything valuable. It was the principle of the thing. He was not absentminded by nature, and he only forgot minor details when his mind was absorbed with larger ones.

And he resented thinking of her. She had popped into his mind on and off as he’d worked through the night. A constant annoyance—like an itch on the shoulder blade that was just out of reach. How she’d crouched, ready to fight, chin up, body braced. How that body had felt under his, tensed, challenging. How her hair glowed, like her name.

Furious, he shook his head, as if to dislodge her from his thoughts. He didn’t have time for women. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate them, but there was a time for pleasure. This wasn’t it. And if it was pleasure he wanted, Sunbeam Stone was not where he should look for it.

The more he thought about where he was, when he was, the more he was certain that Cal needed to be brought to his senses and taken home.

Some sort of space fever, Jacob decided. His brother had suffered a shock, and the woman—as some women had throughout time—had taken advantage of him. When he approached Cal logically, they would get into the ship and go home.

In the meantime, he would take the opportunity to study and record at least this small section of the world.

At the edge of the forest, he paused. It was colder today, and he sincerely regretted the lack of warmer clothing. Gray clouds, plump with snow, had drifted in to cover the sun. In the gloomy light he watched Sunny lifting logs from the woodpile at the rear of the cabin. She was singing in a powerfully erotic voice about a man who had gotten away. She didn’t hear his approach, and she continued to sing and stack wood in her arms.

“Excuse me.”

With a yelp, she jumped back, sending the split logs flying. One landed hard on her booted foot, and she swore roundly and hopped up and down. “Damn it! Damn, damn, damn! What’s wrong with you?” Clasping her wounded foot with one hand, she braced the other on the cabin wall.

“Nothing.” He couldn’t help the grin. “I think there’s something wrong with you. Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels great. I live for pain.” She gritted her teeth as she set her foot gingerly back on the ground. “Where did you come from?”

“Philadelphia.” She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, you mean now?” With a jerk of his thumb, he said, “That way.” He paused to glance at the logs scattered in the snow. “Want some help?”

“No.” Favoring her foot, she crouched down to retrieve the logs. All the while, she watched him carefully, braced for any move he might make. “Do you know why I’m here, Hornblower? For peace and solitude.” She blew the hair out of her eyes as she looked up at him. “Do you understand the concepts?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Turning, she limped back into the cabin, letting the door slam shut behind her. After dumping the logs in the woodbox, she came back to the kitchen. And swore. “What now?”