than to doubt him. “Is the Pope Catholic?”
“Last time anyone checked.” Awake now, she opened the drawer of the nightstand beside her bed and pulled out a pad and pencil. “Okay, shoot.”
Rusty hesitated. “Look, instead of my giving the directions to you over the phone, why don’t I just come over in a couple of hours and drive you over there myself?”
Rusty had his own job. She knew for a fact that he couldn’t afford to take time off. The station manager would be all over him if he did. “You’ve already done enough, Rusty.” There’d been concern in his voice. She found it sweet but shackling. “I can take care of myself.”
Rusty huffed. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re pregnant.”
She hated the fact that people viewed her differently because of her condition. Of all people Rusty should have known better. “Being pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t see over the steering wheel, Rusty, or that I’ve suddenly forgotten how to take corners.”
He laughed gruffly. “I’ve seen how you drive, Campbell. They should have taken away your keys the second anyone found out you were expecting.”
“Sweet of you to worry, Rusty, but I can take it from here. Just give me the directions.”
He knew better than to argue with her. When it came to being stubborn, he’d learned his first week on the job that Sherry had no equal. He rattled off the directions, including which freeway exits she was to take and for how long. He prided himself on being thorough.
“If you change your mind about going alone, you know where to find me. I’ll be the one on the arm of the sexiest cover model in the room.”
“That’s just how I’ll expect to find you.” Laughing, she hung up.
With a sigh, Sherry dug her fists in on either side of her and then pushed herself up into an upright position.
Adair.
The memory hit her like a thunderbolt. The face of the man in her dream, the one who was supposed to have been Drew, had belonged to Adair.
Her eyes widened before she dismissed the thought. Her brain had obviously taken recent events and combined two areas of her life. Either that, or she was hallucinating. The only thing that Adair had going for him was piles of money. Okay, that and looks, she amended. Neither of which meant anything to her. The next time she was going to trust a man, he was going to have to be strong, sensitive and caring.
A sense of humor wouldn’t hurt, either. As for looks, well, she already knew what that was worth. Pretty faces, like as not, usually were the domain of shallow, vacant people. Drew was living proof of that.
With yet another deep sigh, Sherry got off the bed and went to the bathroom. The first visit of many today, she thought wearily.
He liked it here.
Liked the massive wood-framed rooms, the sparse furnishings, the wide-open spaces, both inside and out. He’d driven most of the night to get here after his late meeting with his lawyers to finalize the deal he’d been working on. It was worth it.
Sin-Jin looked through the bay window that faced the mountain and the landing pad where his private helicopter stood, waiting his pleasure. He wouldn’t be using it today. He wanted nothing more than to stay here.
There was no doubt about it. There was something bracing about being alone in the wilderness.
Of course, he didn’t attempt to delude himself that he was the thriving descendent of some savvy, resourceful frontier backwoodsman. He liked his creature comforts along with his solitude. Although he had to admit that he had toyed with the idea of not having a phone here. But in the end his sense of practicality had won over his need to be alone. The compromise was that only Mrs. Farley had his phone number here.
He trusted her implicitly. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his privacy. Privacy had become paramount for him. That was why the cabin he chose to stay in was registered to John Fletcher in the county books. No one suspected he was here today.
Mrs. Farley and he went way back. Far further than anyone suspected. Certainly a lot further than his years as a corporate raider. Other than his uncle, Edna Farley had been the first person to make a positive impact in his life, the first person who had made him feel that he mattered.
Who knew what path his life would have taken if not for her, he mused.
He owed her, owed her a great deal. Though not very vocal, he’d told her as much years ago. All she had ever asked of him was to let her earn her keep. He would have been more than willing to set her up with a lifetime trust fund in any place of her choice. She would have been set for life, but she’d chosen to work at his side. That was typical of her.
He had to admit, he rather liked that. In a way she was the mother his own mother had never been, although Edna Farley never blatantly displayed maternal feelings. They were alike that way, each shut inside with their own emotions. But she took care of him nonetheless. As he did her.
Sin-Jin looked at the gray flagstone fireplace, debating building a fire. The air was nippy up here, a hundred miles away from where he usually resided. It was barely fall, but cold weather found its way faster to this part of Southern California. There was no snow on the mountains yet, but prospects looked good, he thought. The local shopkeepers would be happy.
Maybe someday he’d retire here, he mused. It would be an idyllic life. His mouth curved. As if he could stand a life with no challenges for more than a few days.
The sound of barking in the distance alerted him. Striding across the hardwood floor, Sin-Jin went directly to his gun cabinet and took out a rifle. As he moved to the front door, he loaded the weapon. That was Greta barking. His Irish setter was his flesh-and-blood alarm system and as far as he was concerned, she did a far more effective job than any state-of-the-art laser beams. There were other advantages as well. A high-tech system couldn’t curl up at his feet in the evening and look up at him with soulful brown eyes that helped to ease the building tension of his everyday life.
Pulling the door open, Sin-Jin looked around. The woods were some three hundred feet to his right, but from this vantage point, he saw nothing.
“What is it, Greta?”
At the sound of his voice, the barking increased. As he listened, he placed the direction of origin. It was coming from several yards away. Sin-Jin strode toward the sound, his fingers wrapped around his weapon, ready for anything.
Anything except for what he found.
It was that woman again, that reporter who’d jumped into the elevator with him the other day and tried to waylay him for a story.
Damn it, how the hell did she find this place?
He scowled as he went toward her. She wore a white parka that hung open around her. He doubted that she could even come close to zipping it up around her stomach.
Something Campbell, that was it. Cheryl? No, Sherry.
He grew angrier with every step he took. She had the face of an angel and the body of a lumbering bear all primed for hibernation. Why wasn’t she hibernating?
“You’re trespassing!”
