“I’m not running away from you,” she replied, and it was the truth. She was running away from herself.
“You’ll get lost,” he said, moving to get up also.
“Don’t,” Cindy said quickly. “Don’t follow me, Drew; I need some time alone. I’ll keep to the shoreline and I won’t go far, all right?”
Fox subsided reluctantly, sitting back on his haunches, his expression grave as he watched her walk away.
Cindy wandered along the edge of the water, her sandals sinking into the marshy grass. She took them off and carried them, walking barefoot, her mind a jumble of confusing images and thoughts.
She didn’t know what to do. If she continued to see Fox, sooner or later their mutual passion would burst out of control, but the thought of not seeing him any more was unbearable. She’d never felt like this before, and her experience with men was so limited that she was unable to determine how to handle the situation. She couldn’t become just another one of Fox’s lovers, but she couldn’t give him up either. With him, she was alive in a way that was new to her. Up until the time she met him, her books and studies and quiet life had been sufficient. She hadn’t known what she was missing, like a person born blind who can’t appreciate the glory of a sun he has never seen. But now—she couldn’t go back to that former existence. It would never again be enough.
Cindy pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to think. At the same time she caught sight of a structure in the distance, partially hidden by the trees. Curious, she moved forward, rounding a bend in the shoreline and confronting a little house made of logs and leaves. The chiksee, she thought. This was Fox’s construction, abandoned but still sturdy, silent and waiting, like a summer cottage restless for the return of its warm weather occupants.
Cindy studied the chiksee, thinking about the care that had gone into the placement of every strip of bark, every leaf, and her throat tightened. What sort of man would build this from scratch, taking the time to put it together as his ancestors once had, just to see if he could do it? Others saw the tough exterior, the bounty hunter who chased human quarry for a living. But he had wanted Cindy to see another side of him, the man who loved his family and this isolated spot on a lonely lake.
Taking a deep, quavering breath, Cindy came to a decision. She was going to stick with this, take it one step at a time, and hope she could deal with it. Fox was too special for her to do anything else. If she turned away from him, she would be sorry for the rest of her life.
Walking slowly, she retraced her steps to the clearing where Fox awaited her. As she came closer she saw that he was lying on the tablecloth, and then she realized from his loose, boneless posture that he was asleep.
Tiptoeing, she approached stealthily until she was standing over him, gazing down at his slumbering form.
I’ll bet he got almost no sleep last night, she thought, remembering his remark about napping in the truck. There were blue shadows of fatigue under his eyes, and his body was sprawled in the careless, abandoned manner of pure exhaustion.
Cindy glanced at her watch. She hated to wake him, but she had promised Paula that she would be back by five to monitor the phone. The woman who shared management duties with Paula was sick, and Paula had to work a double shift at the hospital in order to get a three day weekend she’d requested.
Cindy sat next to him, tucking her legs under her and touching his shoulder. He stirred slightly, turning toward her, and his shirt, loosened by her eager hands earlier, rode up on his midriff.
Cindy sucked in her breath. His ribs were taped all along his left side, and a deep, angry scratch below them was painted vivid carmine with iodine.
She bit her lower lip, her eyes moving to his placid face. He must have been in pain all day with this, and yet he had given no sign, even doing the lawn work at his grandfather’s house. She and Eli had seen him only from the back, and nothing in his movements had indicated the presence of such an injury.
Cindy tugged at his arm, harder, until the thick lashes lifted and he looked into her eyes. He was alert immediately, sitting up and looking around him.
“It’s all right,” Cindy assured him. “You were only sleeping about half an hour.”
He nodded and stretched, showing the white markings of the tape once again.
“Drew, how did you get that?” Cindy asked quietly, pointing.
He glanced down at himself, and then at her. “I’ll have to be a little neater in the future,” he said dryly, tucking in his shirt.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Fox shrugged. “The guy I went after last week didn’t agree that it was time for him to return to jail. He gave me some trouble, that’s all.”
“That’s all!” she echoed, incredulous. “Drew, you should have told me that you were hurt. You shouldn’t be out with me today; you should be in bed, resting.”
“Cindy, if I went to bed every time something like this happened on the job, I’d spend most of my time flat on my back.” He got to his feet, looking around for their scattered things.
“Is that all you can say?” Cindy challenged him.
He met her eyes. “No, that’s not all. I thought the time with you today was too important to miss, and that’s why I said nothing about my... mishap. I figured you’d react just like this.”
Cindy dropped her eyes. She was only beginning to realize how dangerous his lifestyle was.
“Does this sort of thing happen often?” she asked in a small voice.
“Now and then,” he said vaguely, picking up the hamper and setting it aside, shaking out the tablecloth. She bent to help him, and he caught her hand.
“Cindy, I want to ask you something.”
She waited.
“About what happened before, you don’t think I brought you here to... seduce you, do you?”
She met his gaze squarely. “No, Drew, I never thought that.”
His relief was only partial. “I just wanted you to see my special place, that’s all. I know that it’s secluded, but I honestly wasn’t thinking about getting you alone or anything.”
His insistence was almost ingenuous, and she smiled. “Forget it, Drew. Now can we get this show on the road before the ants eat my ankles?”
He nodded, unsmiling, and they packed up to go.
Fox was silent on the way back to the truck, and Cindy wondered what he was thinking. There were no cute remarks about the wildlife underfoot or killer fish. Cindy missed the teasing banter, but his demeanor was serious and it didn’t look like it was going to change. When he handed her into the truck she smiled at him, and he didn’t smile back.
The drive home seemed to pass in a blur of sunstruck palms and roadside stands. By the time they reached Paula’s apartment Cindy was convinced he was going to tell her that they shouldn’t see each other again. And why not? Other women didn’t refuse him; they didn’t make him work so hard. Cindy had heard enough from Paula to understand that, but she also knew that she couldn’t change her personality to suit his expectations. She was sitting in wordless misery, her hands folded in her lap like a grade schooler about to get a scolding, when Fox pulled into a parking place and shut off the motor.
“I’ll take you up,” he said briefly, and walked at her side up the two sets of stairs, a trip that took an eternity. When they came to a halt outside Paula’s door, Cindy took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.
“Thank you for my lovely day, Drew,” she said, making a brave attempt to finish everything gracefully.
He stared at her for a second, and then, with a sound like a broken sigh, he cupped her face in his hands.
“What a well brought up young lady you are,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumbs gently over her lower lip. “You look like you’re about to cry, and yet you’re able to say the right thing. Come on, princess, the last part of it wasn’t so lovely.”
“It was too lovely, Drew. That was the problem.”
He closed his eyes, and it was several seconds before he replied. “Cindy, your honesty is going to get both of us into trouble,” he said huskily, closing her lips with his fingers. “Don’t you know women aren’t supposed to make admissions like that?”