They stopped at the exit. Cold air blasted through the opening. She glanced up in surprise as Cam stripped off his denim jacket. He held it out, going still when she backed from him. She'd accept his job offer because she didn't have a choice but she wouldn't accept his charity.
"Take the jacket," he said easily. "It's not going to bite."
No, but he might.
"It's cold out," Nellie added, belting her own sweater high over the bulge of baby.
It had been hot in South America. Haley hadn't thought of this. "I'll be all right." She felt the flood of heat fill her face as they both looked at her. Cam's features were purposely inscrutable, but she felt sure he hid pity-and she hated that.
Nellie didn't manage to hide a thing and she looked at her, worry and concern evident.
"Take the jacket, Haley," Cam said. "She'll hound you about it, otherwise. It's easier this way." Then, without waiting for a response, he wrapped it around her shoulders, holding it while she slid her arms into the sleeves. She felt surrounded by warmth, softness and an unfamiliar-yet-heavenly scent.
Cam pushed her gently out the swinging glass doors. The sky loomed dark, and Haley realized she had absolutely no sense of time.
They headed across the street to the parking structure, Cam attentively holding on to Nellie, who seemed tired. "Not too much farther, Nel," he murmured, craning his neck to check for cars.
Nearly across the street, all three of them stopped in surprised shock when, with a loud squealing of tires, a taxi gunned its way directly toward them.
Haley froze, capable of only one thought: They found me and now they're going to kill two innocent people to get me!
Cam muttered a ripe oath as the taxi swerved recklessly away, spraying them with gravel. Immediately he pushed back Nellie's hair to see her face. "You okay, Nel?"
"Fine. Idiot!" Nellie shook her head. "He's going to kill someone, or at least give them heart failure."
Haley stood still, shaking, as both Nellie and Cameron shrugged it off.
"Haley?"
She blinked, realizing that Cam had taken her shoulders. Her heart slammed in her chest. "It was just a taxi," she said dazedly.
"Yes," he said, concern deepening his voice.
One warm hand slid up to cup the back of her neck and she knew by the tightening of his jaw that he could feel her trembling like a frightened rabbit. She struggled for control, but found herself babbling helplessly. "Just a stupid taxi driver in a hurry."
"That's right," he said in a low, soothing voice. "Just a guy trying to make a buck. And he's gone. He can't hurt you."
Because his kind voice threatened to release the emotions she held so tight and deep inside, Haley shoved his hand away. "I'm okay."
His lips curved, as if he was undisturbed by her abruptness, approved of her toughness.
"Come on," Nellie said, still shaking her head. "Let's get out of the middle of the street."
Haley let them pull her along, but she wasn't so far gone that she missed the single, worried look exchanged between brother and sister-in-law.
At Cam's truck, a brown-and-white puppy with ears bigger than his body jumped up in the window, wiggling and barking happily.
"This is Max," Cam told her, gently pushing the animal aside, after letting it lick his face. "Hey, Max, calm down, would ya?" He bent low to the puppy and whispered conspiratorially, "I've told you before, never let a female see how eager you are." Fondly, he rubbed the dog's ears.
Nellie petted the puppy, too, enduring more of the happy, ecstatic kisses, then crawled into the back seat, claiming exhaustion. "I'm going to take a little nap," she said, yawning and rubbing her stomach. "Cam, just carry me in when we get there."
"But Nel, I'll break my back."
"Oh, shut up," she muttered good-naturedly.
Haley hesitated, her gaze frozen on the bouncing dog.
"He won't bite," Cam assured her.
"What kind is he?"
"A purebred mutt." He grinned. "Just stick out your hand so he can sniff it."
At the moment, her fear of what she'd just left behind overruled her fear of Max. There'd definitely not been much time in her life for dogs-if any. She cautiously held out a hand. The little guy wriggled hopefully, then nailed her with his large, puppy-dog eyes. They were the warmest, biggest eyes she'd ever seen. Something inside her softened. "Hi there," she said, reaching for him. She jumped when his warm, wet tongue licked her fingers. "Max seems an ostentatious name for such a little thing."
"It's a nickname for Maximum-Amount-of-Money-Ever-Spent-on-a-Dog," Cameron said wryly. "Vet bills. Lots of them. Don't ask." He held open the door for her and she climbed into the front. Max settled in the back, on top of the already groggy Nellie.
"Find your own spot, buddy," she mumbled. But she let the puppy stretch out on her.
Cameron started the truck, maneuvering out of the lot while Haley waited tensely for him to bombard her with questions.
They left the city and the lights far behind as they headed down a narrow highway toward the black mountains in the distance. In the back seat Nellie's breathing evened out. So did Max's. Cam adjusted the heater to nice and low, aimed at Haley's feet, which were icy cold in her meager flats. With a flick of his wrist, the interior of the truck was filled with soft, country blues.
She was in a strange place, in a stranger's truck, heading toward some unknown ranch house in the middle of nowhere. Panic filled her for a moment as the realization hit her. She must be insane!
No, not insane, just desperate. And no matter what happened, it would be better than what would happen to her if she gave up. Again, her gut twisted painfully at the thought of her lifelong work-all destroyed, gone forever.
She was going to a place where no one knew her past, or what she'd done. She could just be Haley Williams for a while-whoever she was-and that was a surprising relief.
She nearly hit her head on the roof of the truck, when after ten full minutes of silence, Cam said, "You can relax a little bit, Haley. You'll snap in two if you pull yourself any tighter than you are."
It was true. She gazed out the window. The mountains were getting closer. "I'm fine."
"Are you?" He shot her a look. "You don't look fine. Are you in pain?"
Oh, great. So the man could read minds as well as look sexy as sin. "No," she lied; slowly, surreptitiously, bringing her hands from her lap to her stomach to press away the nagging ache. "Of course not."
His eyes slid over the movement, but he didn't comment, just drove with that quiet confidence that could slowly drive her crazy. Why didn't he ask her questions? Demand answers? She would. Anyone would. Finally, when she couldn't stand it any longer, she exclaimed, "Go ahead! Just get it over with. Ask me!"
His eyes didn't leave the dark, narrow road, but his lips twitched. "I'm not going to ask you anything."
She wasn't the crazy one, she decided. He was. "Humph."
He smiled. "What sorts of things should I be asking you?"
"Lots of things." She looked at him. "Like where I came from. What I do for a living."
He went quiet for a moment. "Do you really want me to ask you those things?"
"No!" she snapped. "Oh, just forget it." She sighed, shifted, and tried not to notice how wonderfully warm his jacket felt, how good it smelled.
"Why would it matter to me what you've done for a living, as long as you can take care of cooking and cleaning my house?" he asked curiously.
She'd been taught manners at an incredibly young age so she managed to catch herself before she sputtered at his ridiculous question. "Because you've hired me. You should care what I've done."
His eyes met hers then, and for the first time she realized how dark and melting their brown depths were. "What if I trust you?" he asked.