just part of the package. He told himself to remember that. No matter what else. He was her bodyguard. His job was to keep her alive and find out who was trying to kill her.
Nothing more.
What about the other night at the ranch? his damning mind taunted. Remember how much you wanted her, how you went about seducing her? How can you forget the thrill of slipping her robe off her shoulders and unveiling those incredible breasts. What about the look of surprise and wonder in her eyes, or the soft, inviting curve of her lips as you kissed the hollow of her throat. Think about the raw need that drove you to untie the belt at her waist. The robe gave way, the nightgown followed and she was naked aside from a slim gold chain and locket at her throat. You didn’t waste any time kicking off your jeans. You wanted her, Striker. More than you’ve ever wanted a woman in your life. You would have died to have her and you did, didn’t you? Over and over again. Feeling her heat surround you, listening to the pounding of your heart and feeling your blood sing through your veins. You were so hot and hard, nothing could have stopped you. What about then, when you gave in to temptation?
The back of his neck tightened as he remembered and his inner voice continued to taunt him.
If you can convince yourself that Randi McCafferty is just another client, then you’re a bigger fool than you know.
* * *
It was late by the time the Jeep bounced along the rocky, mossy ruts that constituted the driveway to what could only be loosely called a cabin. Set deep in the forest and barricaded by a locked gate to which Kurt had miraculously had the key, the place was obviously deserted and had been for a long time. Randi shuddered inwardly as the Jeep’s headlights illuminated the sorry little bungalow. Tattered shades were drawn over the windows, rust was evident in the few downspouts that were still connected to the gutters, and the moss-covered roof sagged pitifully.
“You sure you don’t want to look for a Motel 6?” she asked. “Even a Motel 2 would be an improvement over this.”
“Not yet.” Kurt had already pulled on the emergency brake and cut the engine. “Think of it as rustic.”
“Right. Rustic. And quaint.” She shook her head.
“This used to be the gatekeeper’s house when this area was actively being logged,” he explained.
“And now?” She stepped out of the Jeep and her boots sank in the soggy loam of the forest floor.
“It’s been a while since the cabin’s been inhabited.”
“A long while, I’d guess. Come on, baby, it’s time to check out our new digs.” She hauled Joshua in his carrier up creaky porch steps as Kurt, with the aid of a flashlight and another key, opened a door that creaked as it swung inward.
Kurt tried a light switch. Nothing. Just a loud click. “Juice isn’t turned on, I guess.”
“Fabulous.”
He found a lantern and struck a match. Immediately the room was flooded with a soft golden glow that couldn’t hide the dust, cobwebs and general malaise of the place. The floor was scarred fir, the ceiling pine was stained where rainwater had seeped inside and it smelled of must and years of neglect.
“Home sweet home,” she cracked.
“For the time being.” But Kurt was already stalking through the small rooms, running his flashlight along the floor and ceiling. “We won’t have electricity, but we’ll manage.”
“So no hot water, light or heat.”
“But a woodstove and lanterns. We’ll be okay.”
“What about a bathroom?”
He shook his head. “There’s an old pump on the porch and, if you’ll give me a minute—” he looked in a few cupboards and closets before coming up with a bucket “—voila! An old fashioned Porta Potti.”
“Give me a break,” she muttered.
“Come on, you’re a McCafferty. Rustic living should be a piece of cake.”
“Let me give you a clue, Striker. This is waaaay beyond rustic.”
“I heard you were a tomboy growing up.”
“Slade talks too much.”
“Probably. But you used to camp all the time.”
“In the summers. I was twelve or thirteen.”
“It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how.”
“We’ll see.” But she didn’t complain as they hauled in equipment that had been loaded into the Jeep. Sleeping bags, canned goods, a cooler for fresh food, cooking equipment, paper plates, propane stove, towels and toilet paper. “You thought this through.”
“I just told Eric to pack the essentials.”
“What about a phone?”
“Our cells should work.”
Scrounging in her purse, she found her phone, yanked it out and turned it on. The back-lit message wasn’t encouraging. “Looking for service,” she read aloud, and watched as the cell failed to find a signal. “Hopefully yours is stronger.”
He flashed her a grin that seemed to sizzle in the dim light. “I already checked. It works.”
“So what about a phone jack to link up my laptop?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Looks like you’re out of luck unless you’ve got one of those wireless hookups.”
“Not a prayer.”
“Then you’ll have to be out of touch for a while.”
“Great,” she muttered. “I don’t suppose it matters that I could lose my job over this.”
“Better than your life.”
She was about to reply, when the baby began to cry. Quickly, Randi mixed formula with some of the bottled water she’d brought, then pulled off dust cloths from furniture that looked as if it was in style around the end of World War II. Joshua was really cranking it up by the time Randi plopped herself into a rocking chair and braced herself for the sound of scurrying feet as mice skittered out from the old cushions. Fortunately, as she settled into the chair, no protesting squeaks erupted, nor did any little scurrying rodent make a mad dash to the darker corners. With the baby’s blanket wrapped around him, she fed her son and felt a few seconds’ relaxation as his wails subsided and he ate hungrily from the bottle. There was a peace to holding her baby, a calm that kept her fears and worries at bay. He looked up at her as he ate, and in those precious, bonding moments, she never once doubted that her affair with Sam Donahue was worth every second of her later regrets.
Kurt was busy checking the flue, starting a fire in an antique-looking woodstove. Once the fire was crackling, he rocked back on his heels and dusted his hands. She tried not to notice how his jacket stretched at the shoulders or the way
