He reached over to pick her up, but she stopped him. “I can walk, I think.”
Sighing, he shoved a hand into his pocket, searching for a coin. Already he knew she was stubborn and used to being independent. “My lucky Indian coin. I’ll flip you for it. Heads I carry you, tails you walk.”
Warily, she studied him. “A two-headed coin?”
“You really don’t trust easily, do you?” He showed her both sides, then tossed the coin up in the air, slamming it down on his hand. It came up heads. “There, now put your arms around my neck.”
Too tired to argue, Laura did as he asked. He carried her easily, heading toward the farthest door. She struggled against an urge to lay her head on his shoulder. He smelled of the outdoors, of woodsy aftershave, unmistakably male. He was so big, so solid, and it felt so good to be held, to feel safe. It had been so long since she’d given in to the very human need to just be held.
Following, Max protested loudly, but when Sean opened the door, he hopped on the bed immediately. Sean set Laura on her feet momentarily, pulled back the covers and eased her onto the bed. Her eyes felt so heavy she could scarcely keep them open as she felt him draw the comforter over her.
“There’s a connecting door right there to the bathroom, if you need it,” he explained, turning on a small night-light.
She sank into the soft warmth. “Thank you, for everything.”
“Sure.” He saw that she was halfway asleep already, her large blue eyes closing. The medicine along with all she’d been through was dragging her under. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, his touch lingering a bit longer than that of an impersonal doctor.
He watched Max snuggle up against her, keeping his golden eyes on their host. Sean moved to the door. “If the phone comes alive, is there anyone you want me to call for you?”
Her eyes opened as she mentally ran through the short list of possibilities. “No, there’s no one.”
Backing out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar, Sean felt a rush of sadness that there was no one this lovely woman wanted to notify as to her whereabouts, no one who’d be worrying about her when she didn’t call or show up.
In the kitchen, he heated soup, set out crackers, poured himself a glass of milk. He sat down at the counter and ate disinterestedly, his thoughts elsewhere. Sean had a logical mind, one that usually sorted things out in an orderly fashion, studied the possibilities then came to an informed conclusion. But, try as he would, he couldn’t seem to pigeonhole Laura Marshall.
She came from a wealthy family, that much he knew. Her father had a good reputation for fair dealing, though Sean was aware that many regarded him as cold and calculating. He seemed to remember that Owen’s wife had died some time ago and, though his picture had been in the paper in the society section escorting a variety of well-heeled, bejeweled women, Sean didn’t think Laura’s father had remarried. She said she worked for the family real estate business decorating model homes. He couldn’t help wondering how she got along with Owen.
Sean took a bite of cracker and chewed thoughtfully. She’d left her home in one hell of a hurry, taking along only her purse and grumpy cat, heading for a cabin she’d described as a safe haven. Why did she need one? She’d obviously been up to their cabin often before, yet she hadn’t thought it might be snowing in mid-February, hadn’t dressed for the weather, hadn’t even worn boots, hadn’t thrown a few clothes into a bag.
Because she was afraid of someone or something, she’d confided, yet she didn’t know who or why. How would she react when she remembered? He finished his light dinner, drained his milk glass and sat back. Traumatic amnesia was very real and pretty scary. What had frightened her enough to send her scurrying to her safe haven with no luggage, no preparation?
Despite her accident, she appeared clear-eyed, lucid, honestly trying to remember. He could see it bothered her to not know what had motivated her rush to safety. She certainly wasn’t in a dangerous line of work, nor was her father. A boyfriend stalking her, perhaps? An ex-husband or an admirer who’d become obsessive? Laura Marshall was certainly beautiful enough to inspire such behavior.
Or could she be in trouble, maybe running from the law? Stranger things had happened, yet he didn’t think that was it.
For one thing, there was all that family money. Could someone be threatening her, blackmailing her or working some sort of scam? Or had he read too many mysteries lately and let his imagination go on overdrive?
Shaking his head at his flight of fancy, Sean put his dishes in the dishwasher and yawned expansively. He hadn’t slept well last night, as he rarely did on these sojourns. Maybe tonight would be better. Laura’s unexpected arrival had called a halt to his brooding, the first time anything had distracted him from remembering, from going over every detail of that fateful day trying to discover something he might have done differently.
He walked over to the portrait above the fireplace and stood staring at the smiling face so full of mischief. “I failed you, Danny,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Bending to make sure the fire was dying out, he sighed then walked over to check the phone. Still out. He paused by the room where Laura lay. Stepping in quietly, he saw that she hadn’t moved. Her cheeks were a bit flushed, one hand softly curled by her face. Max’s suspicious yellow eyes glowed in the semidark. Perhaps the cat sensed that he preferred dogs. Or maybe he could tell that, despite his stated desire to be left alone this week, he’d like nothing better than to change places with Max and curl up with Laura Marshall under the duvet.
Sean headed for his bedroom.
The light filtering in through the unadorned windows woke her. Blinking, Laura took a moment to orient herself, then realized it was a weak morning sun reflecting on snow that was still falling outside. Her headache was gone, and she was grateful for that. She dared to move her shoulder and felt a dull ache, but not the sharp pain of yesterday.
She turned toward the nightstand and saw that it was ten after eight on the Mickey Mouse clock. The lamp she hadn’t noticed last night was a grinning Bugs Bunny chomping on a carrot, its base containing the night-light still on.
Curiosity aroused, Laura looked around and saw that she had slept in what was obviously a child’s room. The yellow striped wallpaper had flocked Disney characters parading across one wall while a little red wagon sat in the far corner holding a rabbit with one ear. Surely they had to be the ones from the picture over the fireplace.
A dozen or more stuffed animals hung in a hammock stretched beneath two shelves of children’s books. A blue-and-white hobbyhorse was next to the wagon, and a child’s maple rocker holding a huge purple dinosaur was near the door to the bathroom. Atop the tall dresser was a huge pink piggy bank and one of those glass globes that you had to turn over and snow fell on an ice skating scene. A wooden train was next to it, the cars forming letters that spelled out Danny.
So the child in the picture wasn’t Sean but rather a boy named Danny whose room this obviously was. Trying to recall their earlier conversation, Laura realized that when she’d asked Sean if he lived here alone, he had said he actually lived in Scottsdale, that he’d built this cabin for times he wanted to get away from the city. An evasive reply.
Laura stretched and shoved back the covers, then sat up. The room tilted slightly, then righted itself. Max, who’d moved to the far side of the bed, gave her a quick glance, then resumed his morning grooming. “Time we got up, lazybones,” she told him.
It was utterly quiet, and she wondered if Sean was up. There was a simple explanation here, she’d wager. Sean was probably divorced and had a son named Danny who used this room during his visits with his father. Or was Sean still married and the boy and his mother were back in Scottsdale?
She didn’t think so. She could be wrong,