CARRIED AWAY Page 4

  "I wouldn't bet on it," Christy said mutinously. Eric turned back to her, even as Trevor took his arm in a firm grip. "Where is she, Christy?" Eric begged. "I just want to talk to her. If she tells me to take a hike, I will."

  "Yeah, well, you'll be making a long one if you want to see her again."

  Eric's eyes lit up and Christy could have kicked herself for the slip.

  "She's gone to the lake, hasn't she?"

  Christy kept her lips firmly shut, but she knew it was too late. The only good thing was that Eric had never been to the cabin. It belonged to Vivian's parents. They'd just finished building it right when Eric and Viv split up. Viv had gone up to the lake because she knew he couldn't contact her there.

  "Christy—"

  "Eric, come on, man," Trevor said, his tone genial enough, but his expression implacable. "Let's go to the reception."

  Eric started to argue, then decided better of it. "Okay, okay." He pulled his arm free. "You're right."

  Christy was instantly suspicious. Eric was nothing if not determined. It was why he was so successful in his career—and why he'd failed so miserably in marriage. Some things can't be achieved with bull determination.

  "I'm sorry I involved you in this," Eric told her. "But … I was desperate."

  He looked it, she had to admit. In fact, despite his perfect hair, perfect clothes and perfect face … there was no mistaking the misery in his eyes. She didn't doubt he was sorry he'd lost Viv. It was the only thing he'd ever failed at and it was simply unacceptable for Eric Swenson to fail at anything.

  "Please, when you talk to her, just tell her that all I want is the chance to talk, to explain. I've changed, Christy."

  "Not from where I'm standing," she said, but with more sadness than anger. She felt bad for both of them, but she also knew her friend had been devastated by the failure of her marriage and she didn't want to see Viv put through any more hell.

  "Christy, I—"

  "I think we'd better leave," Trevor interjected.

  Eric looked as if he was going to resist, but he sighed and nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry, Christy," he said again and walked back toward his car.

  She turned to Trevor. "Thank you."

  "He seems pretty sincere. Are you sure—?" He broke off when Christy folded her arms and glared at him. "Right, right. I think I've butted in enough for one day." He laughed. "Civilian life was supposed to be easier."

  "You're out of the military now?"

  He nodded. "The uniform is for the wedding only. I'm starting my own defensive training facility just north of here."

  "Here?" He wasn't leaving. He was going to be … around. Christy wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her body, however, knew exactly how it felt.

  "I used to live here." He looked around and sighed. "Feels like a million years ago." Christy was undeniably intrigued. He couldn't be much past thirty, if that, and yet he spoke like a man who'd done and seen more things than a man twice his age. She rubbed her arms. Looking at him right now, she believed he had.

  The sound of Eric's car starting got Trevor's attention. "I guess I'd better be going."

  "I guess you'd better." She smiled, then saluted him.

  He grinned and shot her one back, then opened the car door … but didn't seem to be in any hurry to get in.

  "Oh, Viv's dress!" Christy really wasn't making up excuses for him to stay. Really she wasn't.

  Trevor scooped them up and handed them over. "I am—"

  "I know. You're formally excused from groveling. You'd better go before Eric implodes."

  "Yeah," he said quietly, baby blues piercing like lasers.

  Eric backed out and tapped his horn. Christy glanced over at him, thinking again that he was giving up too easily. Then she realized why. Dammit. Eric might not know how to get to the lake house, but…

  "What's wrong?"

  "Eric. He doesn't give up easily. Not when he wants something. And he wants Viv." She debated running in the house and changing and going with Trevor to the reception. But she was the walking dead at this point. Then she eyed Trevor. Hmm. He did owe her one. A giant one. "If you want to repay me for this morning, do me a favor and don't let Kate tell him how to get to the lake house."

  "Do you think she'll tell him after everything that's happened?"

  Christy just looked at him.

  "Right. What was I thinking? I only just met the woman, but I have a feeling Mike's life will never be boring."

  Christy more than agreed. "Promise me you won't let him go up there."

  "I'll do my best." He climbed in the car, then leaned out the window. "Maybe you should call her anyway. Just in case he finds out from someone else."

  There wasn't anyone else who knew—not that Christy was aware of anyway. Viv worked with Christy in ICU and their grueling shift schedule had made it easier to head up to the cabin during the week, making it almost impossible for her other friends to come up. As far she knew, Kate had been the only other one.

  "I can't call her," Christy said. "No phones up there yet. Just cell phones, and the service is spotty at best. She probably turned hers off anyway. But I'll try."

  "Okay." But he didn't move. And neither did she. Eric tapped his horn again and Christy narrowed her gaze at him, knowing his impatience did not stem from a strong desire for wedding cake. He wanted to get to Kate.

  "Keep an eye on him."

  He merely grinned and gave her a final salute.

  Christy was still clutching the sequin dress and robe to her chest when Trevor pulled out. She watched until the car disappeared, then realized she was actually weaving on her feet she was so tired.

  It was only when she went up the porch steps that she realized she had no purse. Which meant she also did not have Viv's spare key. And Mr. Military had surely locked the back door.

  Perfect. Just perfect. She was too exhausted to work up a good panic. She rooted around the door and porch, but found nothing. Too tired to cry, she simply dumped the dress and shoes on the porch rocker and curled up in the padded porch swing. She'd deal with this much better after she'd had some sleep.

  She would have sworn she'd just closed her eyes when someone—gently this time—tried to wake her up.

  "Christy, I really hate to do this."

  "Then don't," she growled. Her bed was swaying. Why was her bed swaying? She was hallucinating, that was it. It was a dream brought on by an overload of stress and sleep deprivation. She tried to snuggle more deeply under her covers … then realized vaguely that there didn't seem to be any covers. No pillows, either.

  "Christy. It's Eric. He's gone. And I don't think it's to the airport."

  On the best of days it took at least three of her six alarm clocks to wake her up. Right now it would take an atomic bomb. "Go 'way."

  He was shaking her shoulder again. "I know you're going to kill me for this and I deserve a full court-martial. I don't know how Eric found out. I stuck by Kate until she and Mike left for their honeymoon. But one of the bridesmaids said she saw him leave in a hurry. I'm betting he's headed for the lake house."

  That penetrated the fog. "Wha? Lake house? Eric?" She sat bolt upright, then groaned and held her head as the swing rocked. "Someone just shoot me now."

  Then there were strong arms around her and she simply didn't have it in her to fight.

  "Come on. I'm taking you inside."

  "Can't. Door's locked." She cracked one eye open. "And someone didn't let me take my purse earlier."

  "I told you the back door was unlocked."

  She wanted to pound on something, namely him, but her fingers wouldn't make a satisfactory fist. "I don't even care anymore," she mumbled as he carted her around back and in through the kitchen door.

  The kitchen was a blur, as was the short hallway and the stairs. "Just tell me how to get to the lake house and I'll head up there," he said. "I know Viv doesn't know me, but it might help if she someone else there."

  His words were a velvet buzz in her head.
<
br />   "Christy, stay with me here. Just long enough to give me directions."

  But he laid her on the bed then, and there was softness swallowing her up, so she couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. She did whimper though. "No more triple shifts," she murmured.

  "Triple shifts?"

  "Can't help it. People keep needing their lives saved," she managed, already burrowing.

  The bed dipped as he sat down and she rolled, stopping against the hard, warm length of his thigh.

  "You can go," she said. "Fine. I'm fine."

  "I need directions."

  Directions? Her brain was cotton candy at this point.

  "To the lake house."

  Then she remembered. Eric. Lake house. "Viv!" She'd shouted the name in her head, but it came out like a croak. She tried to sit up, but he gently pushed her back down.

  "You're not going anywhere but to sleep. As soon as you give me directions."

  She sighed and lay back, her eyes felt like they were filled with sand so she kept them shut. "Take 64 west to 81, then south to 317. It's about fifteen miles straight up the mountain. There's a sign. It's the next dirt road on your left after that. You'll see the house. Log cabin, big screened porch." She swore under her breath. She really should go with him. She tried to sit up again. "Just let me get dressed."

  "Absolutely not." He pressed her down again. "If you don't get some sleep, you'll make yourself sick. I wouldn't have come back at all, but I thought you'd want me to do something."

  He smoothed the hair from her face, the feel of his blunt-tipped fingers on her skin made her shiver in pleasure. If he'd just keep stroking her skin like that, she could die a happy woman. "Thank you. For going."

  "It's the least I could do, considering."

  She wanted to say she could think of a whole lot more things he could be doing, but none of them had anything to do with Vivian and Eric. She frowned. Just thinking about Eric barging in up there and invading Vivian's one sanctuary. Not that Viv had ever really worried about Eric intruding anywhere else. He'd been living in Stockholm for the past eighteen months.

  "I want to go," Christy said, trying to marshal her wits. "I should be there. This is all my fault."

  "I don't see how that is." He kept up his insidious hair stroking. The room was swimming.

  "I can sleep in the car." Right at that moment, she was fairly certain she could have slept while parachuting from a plane.

  "I'll handle it."

  "She'll want me there. I want to be there." She harnessed all her energy and pushed his hand away, then clawed her way to a sitting position. "I'm going."

  Trevor just sighed. "Why did I leave the service again?"

  She smiled wearily. "Because you missed the moment-to-moment excitement of the real world?"

  "That must be it."

  She swung her feet over the side of the bed. "I'm ready."

  "I can see that." He had to prop her upright to keep her from sinking backward. "Did you pack some clothes when you came here?"

  She nodded. "Duffel. By the closet."

  "Purse?"

  "Downstairs, next to the phone."

  With a bracing hand on her shoulder to keep her upright, he stood and lifted her into his arms.

  "You really have to stop doing this."

  He looked down into her eyes. "Actually, I'm finding I enjoy carting you around."

  Christy managed to bat her eyelashes. "Oh, Commander, you'll turn a girl's head, talking about her like she's a sack of potatoes."

  He grinned. "That's me. Mr. Romantic."

  Christy could have told him that he had Mr. Sexual Tension down pat just with the eye stare, but it would have gone straight to his head. Besides, she wasn't up to sexual banter, or anything else sexual, either. "Put me down."

  "Uh-uh. The deal is, I'm carrying you, a blanket and all of those pillows to the car, where you will make a nest in the back seat and promise not to move or speak until we arrive at the lake."

  She managed a salute. "Unless I'm talking or tossing in my sleep, that won't be a concern, sir, Commander, sir."

  "Very funny."

  "Yeah, that's me. A laugh riot."

  His smile faded. "Maybe—"

  "Maybe you should get my duffel bag."

  "Yeah. Maybe I should." But he wasn't moving. He was looking at her. And not moving. Just looking.

  Her pulse bumped a notch, maybe two or three notches. Was he really lowering his head? Was he going to—? Did she want him to? Then his lips brushed her forehead and her heart sank to her stomach. Apparently the answer was yes, she did want him to. Almost desperately. And not on the forehead. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers. "Trevor?"

  "Hmm?"

  Velvet voice. That's what he was. Mr. Velvet Voice.

  "We'd better go." Before I do something foolish, like beg you to kiss me.

  "Yeah. Close your eyes."

  "What?"

  "Relax. Sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there. Or try to anyway," he added with a grin.

  "So I'm a heavy sleeper," she said, but she let her eyes drift shut and pressed her face to his chest as he carried her down the stairs. "Sue me." He even smelled good. Really good.

  "There's a lot of things you make me want to do," she thought she heard him murmur. "Not one of them litigious."

  But the beat of his heart was lulling her back to dreamland. And she liked dreamland. She liked it a lot. In dreamland, he didn't kiss her on the forehead.

  * * *

  Chapter 5

  « ^ »

  As he bounced over the rutted lanes, Trevor wished he'd rented a Jeep instead of a sedan. He also wished he'd changed out of his uniform into something a lot less constrictive. Part of that particular problem had to do with the woman presently crashed out in his back seat.

  He wasn't sure he'd ever remained in such a constant state of semi-arousal around a woman. Even now, just thinking about her… He glanced in the rearview mirror. Something he'd done more often than necessary during the three-hour drive.

  She'd been out cold before he'd pulled out of the driveway and had stayed that way since. And he still couldn't keep his eyes, or his thoughts, off her. He'd been on a plane less than twenty-four hours ago, heading to a wedding, and to the start of a new life for himself.

  He looked back at the road just in time to hit a rather large ditch. He winced and darted a quick look over his shoulder before maneuvering around another giant hole. Christy grumbled a little, but otherwise didn't so much as budge. He still couldn't believe he'd found her sleeping on the porch swing when he'd come back to Viv's place. He'd hated having to wake her up again, but Kate and Mike had left the reception, and by the time he'd figured out where Eric had disappeared to, there wasn't anyone left to give him directions to the lake. He wasn't even sure Eric was up there, but he figured Christy would want to know anyway.

  And yet he couldn't honestly say he minded being the one to tell her. It gave him a reason to see her again. He didn't really know her at all, yet he'd been with her in circumstances that were somewhat intimate and personal. He knew if he walked away now, she'd stick in his mind and it had been a long time since a woman had stuck in his mind. But then, he'd worked hard to keep that from happening. His career hadn't been conducive to long-term, or even short-term relationships.

  And he'd long since tired of brief liaisons. Just as he'd tired of dragging himself all over the world to solve problems his government would just as soon pretend it didn't have. The world was evolving, more countries were becoming democracies and developing their own local law-enforcement agencies that operated separately from their military troops, and they were looking to the U.S. to find a way to develop that kind of criminal justice system. He still wanted to serve his country, but as a civilian, in charge of his own operation, training cops and former military personnel to go over to these countries and help them begin the arduous task of setting up local law enforcement.

  He also wanted the stability of staying in o
ne place. He was ready for that. So he'd come home. Or at least to the one place that had ever felt like home. But he hadn't thought much beyond that. Hadn't thought about a social life, or even if he wanted to work on having one. He had a business to build, although he'd begun setting it up well in advance of his discharge.

  He looked in the mirror again. He certainly hadn't planned on her.

  Just then the log cabin came into view. He could see the lake several hundred feet beyond it. It was a gorgeous setting, peaceful and remote. He'd spent most of the last ten years in remote spots, but rarely beautiful. He'd wanted the bustle and noise and civility of a city, which was another reason he'd chosen Richmond. But maybe, just maybe, an escape like this would be welcome from time to time. Maybe he was the one who was sleep deprived. How else could he explain the odd thoughts he was having? Thoughts about what it would be like to head away for a private weekend to a cabin like this … with a woman like Christy.

  But they weren't alone. And this wasn't any romantic getaway. And other than the fact that she slept like the dead and was fiercely protective of her friends, he didn't really know what kind of woman Christy was. But he wanted to be alone with her. He wanted to find out what kind of woman she was.

  He pulled into the short gravel drive next to the house. A small red import was parked close to the side walkway. Eric's blue rental was just behind it. Trevor swore under his breath. The only getaway that was going to happen was getting Eric away from Vivian. Hopefully as peacefully as possible.

  He shut off the engine and looked over his shoulder. Christy needed far more than three hours of sleep. What drove her to work herself into the ground like that, anyway?

  People keep needing their lives saved.

  He recalled her words and realized he understood that particular drive, maybe better than most. He opened his door carefully, quietly, although he probably could have set off the alarm without disturbing her. She'd be fine right where she was, he decided. For now anyway.

  He turned toward the house. Well, at least there was no screaming or sounds of breaking dishware. He walked up the side pathway and headed to the front door. What would he say? Why was he here, butting into the lives of two people he didn't even know? A crying bride, that's why. He was never going near another one. Ever.