Relative Strangers Part 3

"Pure pigheadedness," he muttered. He already knew her well enough to realize that he couldn't change her mind. Unfortunately, his comment made conversation between them stilted during the drive back to the hotel.

"I'll be glad to sign papers absolving the Sinclair House of all liability," she finally offered. He heard the hint of sarcasm in her voice and winced.

"I'll send my mother up to keep an eye on you," he countered.

"I am perfectly capable of setting an alarm clock to wake me every few hours. Besides, Rachel will be back soon. I'll be just fine. My head has already stopped throbbing."

"Liar. Dammit, Corrie! Stop being so stubborn. It's no crime to accept help."

At once she looked contrite, but she didn't apologize. Instead, she touched his forearm. "You've done more for me than you needed to already," she said softly.

Surprised at the touch, he glanced away from the road for a moment to stare at her. She seemed about to withdraw her hand when he moved, sliding his arm free and at the same time capturing her gloved fingers with his own.

"I can take care of myself," she said in a faint voice.

Reluctantly, he released his grip. Whether she liked it or not, he now felt responsible for her wellbeing.

"My G.o.d, Corrie! What did you do to yourself?"

Calmly setting aside the newspaper she had been reading while she waited for Rachel, Corrie managed to keep her tone casual. "Like it?" She touched the fresh white bandage decorating her brow. "I'm thinking of starting a new fas.h.i.+on trend."

Rachel didn't say a word. She just stood there, hands on hips, boots puddling on the lobby's plush carpet as she tapped one foot and waited for details.

"It's nothing," Corrie said. "You know what a klutz I am. I fell. Tripped myself up on my own ski poles and impaled myself on the tip of one of them."

That did seem the most likely explanation, although neither blood nor torn skin had remained to verify it by the time Corrie got around to examining her equipment. She reasoned that since the poles had been lying in the snow until Lucas reclaimed them, the evidence had simply been washed away.

"A klutz, you're not." Rachel's gaze never left her friend's face as she peeled off the top layers of clothing she'd worn for downhill skiing at a nearby slope. "Have you been to a doctor?"

"Have I had my head examined? Yes." Levity was not working. With a sigh of resignation she waved Rachel into a vacant chair, arranged kitty-corner to her own, and offered up a more detailed account of the mishap.

She did not, however, tell Rachel that even the doctor had been puzzled by her injury. Or that the police had talked to her. She didn't want her friend to worry.

Her edited version of events fell far short of answering all of Rachel's questions. Corrie could almost see the skepticism growing as her tale wound to a close.

"You got overtired and fell?" Rachel repeated.

"Yup. Grace personified, that's me."

"Hah! Let me tell you something, kiddo. You are the most graceful person I've ever known. I've always envied you that. You're one of those disgusting women who can cross a tile floor in high heels and not sound like an army on the march."

"Thanks. I think."

"You're sure there wasn't some obstacle on the trail? The hotel should put up warning signs if it isn't safe to-"

Corrie held up both hands to stop the impending tirade. "Honest, counselor, the accident was my own fault."

"My reasons for asking aren't entirely personal." Rachel lowered her voice in deference to the other guests who periodically drifted through the lobby. "You know this is a working vacation for me."

Rachel had suggested they spend the holiday at the Sinclair House so that she could check out its facilities for the travel agency she owned in Brooklyn. If everything pa.s.sed inspection, she planned to send business their way.

"You can recommend the Sinclair House to your clients without a qualm."

"So," Rachel asked next, "how did you get back here after you fell? And who took you to the hospital?"

A sudden blossoming of color in Corrie's face gave her away. "Okay. Okay. I was rescued by Lucas Sinclair."

Grinning, Rachel extended stocking feet toward the glowing hearth. Her boots had joined the pile of outerwear between the chairs. "Can't leave you alone for a minute, can I? Are you going to see him again?"

"Short of checking out and going home, I can scarcely avoid it."

A session in the whirlpool when she'd first returned to the hotel had eased Corrie's sore muscles, but just the mention of Lucas Sinclair made her tense up all over again. Under Rachel's close scrutiny, that nervousness grew. When she realized she was plucking at her sleeve, she forced her betraying fingers to be still. Silently, she stared into the fire, hoping Rachel would let the matter drop.

She should have known better.

"You want to talk about it?"

"My accident? I told you. I'm fine. The doctor at the hospital slapped a bandage on my head and warned me to take it easy for the next few days. It's really nothing more than a bad sc.r.a.pe."

"Not the accident, kiddo." Rachel sent a knowing look in Corrie's direction. "I want to hear more about tall, dark, and handsome."

''There is no more."

"You can't deny your encounter with him was unique."

"You're going to keep wheedling until you have all the salacious details, aren't you?"

"Are there salacious details? Oh, goody. Come on, Corrie. Give."

In the hope that putting her feelings into words might help her sort them out, Corrie finally confessed. "I think I'm in big trouble, Rachel."

"Tell Mama all about it."

Despite the fact that they were in one of the hotel's most public areas, their high-backed wing chairs gave an illusion of privacy. The crackle of the wood fire soothed and consoled and muted the sound of their voices. Still, Corrie spoke softly.

"n.o.body has ever affected me this way before, Rachel. When I was in his van on the way to the hospital, I caught myself wondering what it would be like to go to bed with him. I've barely met the man. I shouldn't be having thoughts like that."

"Why not? Men have thoughts like that all the time about women they've just met. The only question you should be asking yourself is whether you want to do more than think about it."

"I couldn't."

"Shouldn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't." Rachel's teasing tone made Corrie smile in spite of herself. "You should enjoy already."

"It's only l.u.s.t. If I ignore it, it will go away." Rachel just lifted one eyebrow. "Besides, I'm not the type to have vacation flings."

"Come on, Corrie. This is me, y'know. Be honest with both of us. What do you really, deep down, want to do about this guy?"

"Nothing."

Shaking her head over what she plainly considered to be an evasive reply, Rachel collected her things. "I need a shower and a hot drink." She started to leave, then came back and leaned over the back of Corrie's chair. "Has it occurred to you, kiddo, that if this guy turns you on that much, you owe it to yourself to go for the gold?"

"I'm not interested in chasing reluctant men, and that gold is as likely to be dross."

"What if he's the one doing the pursuing?"

"That's not going to happen. I don't think he even likes me."

Sighing deeply, Rachel let her chin sink into the chartreuse bundle that was her ski jacket. "Don't be so sure you're reading him right."

No one Corrie had ever encountered had come close to stirring her libido the way Lucas Sinclair did. It only took a look from him, and her insides turned to jelly. All the more reason to be wary of getting close to him.

"Probably best he stays cold and distant," she told Rachel.

"Distant, she wants! Just promise me one thing-if he does start to show an interest, keep an open mind. He might even be Mr. Right, y'know. You could end up married to the guy."

"Aside from the fact that I'm not interested in marrying anyone, did you take a good look at him? No man who is that handsome and still single is looking for a wife."

"So forget marriage. If you're really attracted to him, then you should treat yourself. A nice, relaxing, torrid love affair could be exactly what you need."

"In this day and age? Really, Rachel! We don't know the first thing about Lucas Sinclair."

That thought was sobering on its own, and perhaps the thing that finally convinced Rachel to drop the subject. Lucas looked healthy enough, but who could afford to take chances?

Suddenly Corrie had had enough of staring at the fire, and of futile daydreams too. It was a good thing Lucas Sinclair wasn't trying to seduce her, she thought as she followed Rachel toward the stairs.

Lucas hesitated, his hand raised to knock on Corrie Ballantyne's door. He could have phoned her room. This face-to-face meeting was unnecessary. More than that, it was unwise, given the fact that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since he'd delivered her back to the hotel from the hospital.

Something about her had gotten under his skin. He wished he could figure out what it was. Maybe then he could dismiss her from his thoughts and eliminate his unwelcome fascination with a woman who was only pa.s.sing through his life.

The door in front of him opened, and Corrie gasped, startled by his presence. The sudden confrontation caught him off guard as well, so that for a moment he just stood there, staring at her, bemused to discover she looked delicious even swathed from neck to midcalf in another of the colorless dresses she seemed to favor. She smelled good enough to eat too. Something with a hint of apple in it.

"Checking up on me, innkeeper?" Irritation laced her voice, once she'd recovered from her surprise.

Good thing he hadn't been hoping she'd be pleased to see him, he thought. Aloud, he said, "Officer Tandy called. Your accident was more than a simple fall."

At that announcement, Corrie all but dragged him into the room, shooting a quick, guilty look toward the door across the hail. "I don't want Rachel to hear this." She hastily closed the door behind him. "I didn't tell her there was a possibility I was shot at. I didn't want to worry her."

Out of habit, Lucas surveyed the room, a.s.sessing whether the maid had been in to clean and tidy and taking note that the fruit basket he'd ordered had been delivered. That, he realized, explained the scent of apples.

His glance settled on the bed. A little later in the evening, someone would be in to turn the covers back and leave a mint on the pillow, but right now the bedspread showed the imprint of Corrie's body, suggesting she'd taken a nap. He was suddenly intensely aware that he was staring at the place where Corrie Ballantyne would sleep that night.

"What did the police find out?" she asked, breaking in on his wayward thoughts.

"Good news." He deliberately turned his back on the bed, only to discover he could still see it in the mirror over the dresser. "You weren't shot. At least not by a bullet. It seems you were struck down by a rock, after all."

Surrept.i.tiously, he tried to get a look at the b.u.mp on her head, but she'd hidden the bandage by styling her hair a little differently. She seemed to be acting normally, he decided. A little testy, a lot s.e.xy.

"Are you going to explain, or do I have to phone the police station for details?"

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine!" She glared at him. "Not even a headache. But you, mister, will be giving me a royal pain somewhere else if you don't tell me what Officer Tandy discovered."

"A ten-year-old boy was aiming at a squirrel with a slingshot. You got in the line of fire. When you went down, the kid took off in a panic. Tandy says by the time he turned himself in about an hour ago, he was certain he'd be sent away to prison for life. He'd convinced himself you were dead."

"Since I'm not, what happens to the boy?"

"Unless you press charges, nothing beyond what his parents decide to do to him. Tandy says he's already punished himself pretty effectively. Kid's apparently got a h.e.l.luva imagination. He told Tandy that he was afraid you'd come back from the dead to haunt him if he didn't confess."

He expected a laugh. At least a smile. Instead, Corrie looked vaguely troubled. He hoped she wasn't contemplating prosecution. Yes, she might have been more seriously injured, but the boy hadn't intended to harm her.

"I know the family," he said. "My guess is that he'll be grounded for a month or two."

Was she even listening to him? She had a peculiar expression on her face, as if she was trying to sort something out in her mind and having no luck at all.

"Corrie?" Without thinking, he reached for her.

The moment his hand came in contact with her arm, Lucas knew he'd made a big mistake. Desire thrummed through his veins, disrupting every normal, rational thought process. A moment later, Corrie was in his arms, her lips just a hairbreadth from his own.

"This is a really bad idea," he whispered.

"Yes," she agreed. But she didn't try to pull away. She even swayed toward him as his mouth descended.

She tasted of the apple she'd been eating before he arrived. Sweet and tart all at once. Lucas fought back a groan of pleasure and lifted his head. She stared back at him, dazed, as he gathered her closer still, intending to make their second kiss last much, much longer.

Rachel's voice and her insistent pounding on the door brought his good sense cras.h.i.+ng back. "Hey, Corrie!" she called. "Are you ready already?"

Corrie stepped out of Lucas's embrace. Her fingers drifted up to touch her lips, an innocently erotic gesture that sent renewed desire shafting through him.

"A really bad idea," she murmured. She looked sh.e.l.l-shocked.

Lucas wanted to deny his own words, to insist they were moving in the right direction with that kiss. Instead he apologized. "Sorry, Corrie. I was out of line."

The emotion that flashed across her flushed face might have been embarra.s.sment . . . or disappointment. He couldn't tell, and there was no time to ask. It was enough of a challenge to recover his composure before she threw open the door to admit her friend.

"Well, h.e.l.lo there, handsome." Rachel looked so delighted to have found them together that he felt himself wince before he could get a professional smile in place.

"Good evening, Rachel. I just came up to see if I could escort you two ladies down to dinner. I've got a special table reserved for you."

He was smooth, Corrie thought a short time later. She'd give him that. Her own heart was still beating a little too fast as an aftereffect of that kiss. Brief as it had been, it had left her wanting more, but as Lucas guided them through the crowded dining room, he looked as unruffled as ever. She didn't know whether to hope it was all an act or not.

No doubt wanting her and Lucas to seize the opportunity to take up where they'd left off when she'd interrupted them, Rachel veered off before they reached their table, pretending to be curious about something she'd spotted outside one of the windows. Corrie started to follow her friend, certain it would not be wise to be alone with Lucas again, not even in a crowded room.