Obsession

“You sure he won’t scare the guests?” Kaylie asked.

“This ol’ boy? No way,” Zane said, rubbing the dog behind his ears.

Inside, a mâitre d’ escorted them to a small table in what once had been the parlor.

Zane ordered wine for them both, then after a waiter had poured them each a glass of claret, Zane touched his glass to hers. “To old times,” he said.

“And independence,” she replied.

They dined on fresh oysters, grilled scallops, vegetables and crusty warm bread. Zane’s features seemed sharper in the candlelight, his eyes a warmer shade of gray as he poured the last of the bottle into their glasses, then ordered another.

Conversation was difficult. Kaylie talked of work at the station; Zane listened, never contributing. As if in unspoken agreement, they didn’t discuss Lee Johnston.

“So where’d you get the dog?” she asked as he topped off her glass. She was beginning to relax as the wine seeped into her blood.

“He used to work for the police.”

“What happened—they fire him?”

“He retired.”

Kaylie stifled a yawn and tried not to notice the play of candlelight in his hair. “And you ended up with him.”

Zane shrugged. “We get along.”

“Better than we did?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and sipping from her glass.

“Much.”

“He must do just as you say.”

Zane’s teeth flashed in the soft light. “That’s about the size of it.”

Kaylie was caught up in the romantic mood of the old house with its wainscoted walls and flickering sconces. A fire glowed in the grate and no one else was seated in the small room, though there were four other tables near the windows.

“How’d you arrange this?” she asked, finishing her second—or was it her third?—glass of wine. Pinpoints of light reflected against the crystal.

“Arrange what?”

She motioned to the empty room. “The privacy.”

“Oh, connections,” he said offhandedly, and she was reminded again of how powerful he’d become as his security business had taken off and his clientele had expanded to the rich and famous. He’d opened an office that catered to Beverly Hills, another to Hollywood, as well as San Francisco, Portland, Seattle and on and on. In seven years his business had prospered, as if he’d thrown himself body and soul into the company after their divorce.

He refilled her glass. “I thought we should be alone.” “What? No bodyguards? No private investigators?” she teased, then regretted her sarcasm when his eyes darkened.

“I think we should declare a truce.”

“Is that possible for divorced people?” she asked, and watched as he twisted his wineglass in his fingers.

“Mature divorced people.”

“Oh, well, we’re that, aren’t we? And I guess you’re bodyguard enough, right?” She sipped the wine and felt a languid sleepiness run through her blood. Maybe she should slow down on the claret. It was just that she was so nervous around him. Her muscles relaxed, and she slumped lower in her chair, eyeing him over the rim of her glass. He was so handsome, so erotically male, so…dangerous to be around.

The waiter cleared their plates and brought coffee. He offered dessert, but both Zane and Kaylie declined.

“Well,” she said as Zane reached into his wallet for his credit card, “don’t forget the keys.”

“The what?”

“Your end of the bargain. The keys to my house.”

“Oh, right.” He dropped his credit card on the tray, then reached into his pocket and withdrew a key ring from which he extracted two keys. He slid them across the table. “There you go. Front door and garage.”

She could hardly believe it as she plopped the keys into her wallet. “No strings attached?”

Something flickered in his eyes, but quickly disappeared. “No strings.”

Kaylie felt a twinge of remorse for thinking so little of him. Why couldn’t she open her heart and trust him—just a little? Because she couldn’t trust herself around him, she thought with realistic fatalism.

They walked outside and into a balmy night. The sky had darkened, and jewel-like stars winked high over the mountains. Zane opened the Jeep door for Kaylie, and Franklin hopped onto the passenger seat, growling as Zane ordered him into the back.

“You’re in his space,” Zane explained. The dog jumped nimbly into the back seat, but his dark eyes followed Kaylie’s every move as she climbed inside.

“I don’t know if that’s so safe.”

“He’s fine. He likes you.”

“Oh, right.”

Once back on the road, Zane switched on the radio, and the soft music, coupled with the drone of the engine and the security of being with Zane again made Kaylie feel a contentment she hadn’t experienced in years.

Drowsy from the wine, she leaned her head against the window and glimpsed his profile through the sweep of her curling, dark lashes. His hair brushed his collar, his eyes squinted into the darkness as he drove, staring through the windshield.

The road serpentined through dark forests of pine. Every once in a while the trees receded enough to allow a low-hanging moon to splash a silvery glow over the mountainside.

Kaylie leaned back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. The notes of a familiar song, popular during the short span of their marriage, drifted through the speaker. She punched a button on the radio and classical music filled the interior of the Jeep. That was better. No memories here. She’d just let the music carry her away. Her muscles relaxed, and she sighed heavily, not intending to doze off.

But she did. On a cloud of wine and warmth she drifted out of consciousness.

* * *

Furtively, his palms sweating, Zane watched her from the corner of his eye. He noticed that her jaw and arms slackened and her breasts rose and fell in even, deep breaths.

Ten minutes passed. She didn’t stir. It’s now or never, he thought as he approached the intersection. Turning off the main road and heading into the mountains, he guided the car eastward.

There was a chance she’d end up hating him for his deception and high-handedness, but it was a chance he had to take. He frowned into the darkness, his eyes on the two-lane highway that cut through the dark stands of pine and redwood. Don’t wake up, he thought as the seconds ticked by and the miles passed much too slowly.

It took nearly an hour to reach the old logging road, but he slowed, rounded a sharp corner and shifted down. From here on in, the lane—barely more than two dirt ruts with a spray of gravel—was rough. It angled up the mountain in sharp switchbacks.

He drove slowly, but not slowly enough. Before he’d gone two miles, Kaylie stirred.

The Jeep hit a rock and shimmied and she started. Stretching and swallowing back a yawn, she blinked, her brows knit in concentration. “Where are we?”

“Not in Carmel yet.”

“I guess not,” she said, rotating the crick out of her shoulders and neck as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. “What is this—a park?”

“Nope.”

“Zane?”

He heard her turn toward him. The air was suddenly charged. For a few seconds all he heard was the thrum of the engine and the strains of some familiar concerto on the radio.

Finally she whispered, “We’re not going back to Carmel, are we?”

No reason to lie any longer. “No.”

“No?”

When he didn’t answer, pure anger sparkled in her eyes. “I knew it! I knew it!” she shouted. “I should have never trusted you!” She flopped back in the seat. “Kaylie, you idiot!” she ranted, outraged. “After all he’s done to you, you trust him!”

Zane’s heart twisted.

She skewered him with a furious glare. “Okay, Zane, just where are you taking me?”

“To my weekend place.”

“In the boonies?”

“Right.” He nodded crisply.

“But you don’t have—”

“You don’t know what I have now, do you?” he threw back at her. “In the past seven years I’ve acquired a few new things.”

“A mountain cabin? It’s hardly your style.”

“Maybe you don’t know what my style is anymore.”

“Then I guess I’ll find out, won’t I? I can hardly wait,” she muttered, her eyes thinning in fury. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and waited, then quietly, her voice trembling with rage, she asked, “Why?”

“Because you won’t listen to reason.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We’re talking about your life, damn it. And you were going to go on as if nothing had happened, as if this—” he reached into his pocket and extracted the tape “—doesn’t exist! Well, it does, damn it, and until I find out if there’s any reason to believe ‘Ted,’ I’m going to make sure you’re safe.”

“You’re what? How?” she asked, though she was beginning to understand. “I think you’d better stop this rig and turn it around, right now,” she ground out.

“No way.”

“I’m warning you, if you don’t take me home, I’ll file charges against you for kidnapping!”

“Go right ahead,” he said with maddening calm. He cranked on the wheel to round another corner.

“You can’t do this!” she cried. What was he thinking?

“I’m doing it, aren’t I?”

“I mean it, Zane,” she said, her voice low and threatening. “Take me back to Carmel right now, or I’ll make your life miserable!”

“You already have,” he said through tightly clenched teeth. “The day you walked out on me.”

“I didn’t—”

“Like hell!” he roared, and from the back seat Franklin growled. Zane flicked her a menacing glance. “You didn’t give me—us—a chance.”

“We were married a year!” Even to her own ears, it sounded as brief as it had been.

“Not long enough!”

“This is madness!”

“Probably,” he responded with deceptive calm, wheeling around a final corner. The Jeep lurched to a stop in the middle of a clearing. “But, damn it, this time I’m not taking any chances with your life!”

Kaylie stared out the window at the massive log cabin. Even in the darkness, she could see that the house was huge, with a sloping roof, dormers and large windows reflecting the twin beams of the headlights. “Where are we?” she demanded.

“Heaven,” he replied.

She didn’t believe him. Her heart squeezed at the thought of being alone with him. How would she ever control the emotions that tore through her soul?

Oh, no, Kaylie thought, this giant log house wasn’t heaven. To her, it looked like pure hell!

Chapter Three

“This will never work,” Kaylie predicted as Zane cut the engine.

“It already has.” He walked out to the back of the vehicle, opened the hatchback, unrolled a trap and yanked out two suitcases. Franklin scrambled over the back seat and bounded onto the gravel road.

Thunderstruck, Kaylie didn’t move. His suitcases, for crying out loud! Her heart dropped to her knees. Zane had planned this kidnapping before they left Carmel. And she’d been played for a fool!

“Let’s go inside,” he said.

“You’re not serious. This is a colossal joke, right?” But she knew from the rigid thrust of his chin that he wasn’t joking.

To his credit, he did seem concerned. The lines around the edges of his mouth were harsh, and he actually looked disconcerted by her outrage. “Look,” he finally said, glaring down at her. “Are you planning to stay out here and freeze?”

“No, I’m going to wait for common sense to strike you so that you’ll drive me back home!”

“It’s gonna be a long wait.”

That did it. She hopped out of the Jeep. Her sandaled feet crunched in gravel as she marched up to him. “This is crazy, Zane, just plain crazy.”

“Maybe.” He strode up the plank steps, fumbled with a key in the dark and shoved hard on a heavy oak door.

“If you think I’m going in there with you, you’ve got another think coming!”

He ignored her outburst. A few seconds later, the house lights blazed cozily from paned windows. “Come on, Kaylie,” he called from deep in the interior. “You’re here now. You may as well make the best of it.”

But she wasn’t done fighting yet. Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited. She’d be damned if she’d walk into this…this prison for God’s sake! She had no intention—

He clicked on the porch lights and stood on the threshold of the log house. Kaylie didn’t budge. As if rooted to the gravel drive, she tried to ignore the fact that he nearly filled the doorway, his shoulders almost touching each side of the doorjamb. And she refused to be swayed by the handsome sight of his long, lean frame, thrown in relief by the interior light behind him. She was just too damned mad.

“It’s gonna get cold out here.”

“I’m not going inside.”

“Oh, yes, you are.”

“No way, Flannery,” she argued, her head pounding from too much wine, her pride deflated. “What’s going to happen is that you’re going back into the house for your keys, then you’re going to climb back into this damned Jeep and take me home. Maybe I’ll forget about pressing charges for breaking and entering and kidnapping and you’ll be a free man!”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes to the night-darkened heavens. “Don’t you know you can’t bully me, Kaylie?”

“And here I thought you were the one doing the bullying!” she snapped back. It didn’t matter what his reasons for bringing her here were. Whether Lee Johnston was in the hospital or on the loose, Zane had no right, no right, to force his will on her. The fact that he’d purposely planned to shanghai her was more than she could take.

Slowly, his face knotted in frustration, he started back down the steps. His eyes were trained on her face. “Come on, Kaylie.”

“Out of the question.”

“Look, you’re getting into that house if I have to carry you in there myself!”

“No way.” Her throat went dry as he advanced on her. She had the urge to run as fast as her legs would carry her, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flee. No, by God, she’d stand up to him. And hold her ground she did, not moving an inch when he strode up so close that his shoes nudged the toes of her sandals.

“We can do this the hard way, or you can make it easy.”

“Take me home, Zane,” she said more softly. In the shadows she thought she saw him hesitate, and that flicker of doubt gave her hope. Maybe he’d change his mind. She touched his arm and watched his jaw clench. “This is insane. We both know it. Johnston’s still under lock and key and I’ve got to get back. Come on, Zane, this…this…stunt of yours is just no good and I’m—I’m not moving until you assure me we’re going back to Carmel!”

“Have it your way,” he said softly. His hands circled her waist. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“No, Zane, don’t—” she cried, mortified, as he lifted her easily and her feet left the ground.

“I didn’t bring you up here so that you could kill yourself by catching pneumonia.” He swung her over his shoulder and hauled her, as a fireman would, toward the house. Her hair fell over her face. All the blood rushed to her pounding head.

“Zane, this is ridiculous!” she cried, clinging to his sweater, feeling his muscles ripple beneath the knit. “Let me down, damn you. Stop! Zane, please!”

Up the porch stairs and into the house. He kicked the door shut behind him and set her, sputtering and furious, on the floor. “You bastard!” she barked, throwing her hair out of her eyes and tugging at her dress.

“Kaylie—”

“This is America, Zane. You can’t take the law into your own hands!”

He winced a little at that, and storm clouds gathered in his eyes.

“Just because you’re a private detective you don’t have the right to go around…around…abducting helpless women!”

“Helpless? You?” he flung back at her, shaking his head as he strode through a pitch-ceilinged living room and beyond. “I’m the one taking my life in my hands by bringing you here!”

“Damn right,” she agreed, right on his heels. “All I’ll give you is grief.”

“Amen.” He flipped on the wall switch and walked briskly into the kitchen.

“So you may as well give me the keys—”

“Forget it!” He turned and clamped big, angry hands over her bare shoulders. “Now, listen, Kaylie, this is the way it is. I know what I’ve done by bringing you here. I don’t need a lecture on kidnapping, abduction, the rights of the American people or women’s lib! All I’m trying to do is make sure that you’re safe.”

“Spare me—”

“I have. For seven years.” His fingers tightened over her shoulders and his eyes searched her face. She felt his anger, but in his eyes she saw deeper emotions brewing. “Just try to understand,” he said quietly. “You’ve got this job where every morning anyone west of the Rockies can switch on his television and see you and Alan Bently on the tube.”

“So?”

“So what’s to prevent your personal nut case, Lee Johnston, from trying to do another number on you?”

“The law! The courts! Henshaw.”

Zane snorted, then shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. “I deal with the law and the courts every day. Things don’t always turn out like they’re supposed to. As for Henshaw and Whispering Hills, I’ve got my doubts about that setup, too.”

“Johnston’s been there seven years.”

“Then he’s probably due for reevaluation,” Zane said. “We’ll know in a few days.”

“A few days?” she echoed. He expected her to stay up here that long?

“That’s how long it will take to check out the rumor. Maybe this Ted guy knows what he’s talking about. Then again, maybe he doesn’t. Believe it or not, I didn’t bring you up here just to get you angry. I’m scared, damn it. Scared for you. When I think of what Johnston could have done to you—what he’s still capable of…” Zane shuddered. Rubbing his arms, he strode to the window and, leaning his palms on the counter, stared through the glass to the black night beyond.

Kaylie’s heart softened a little. Though she was furious with him for abducting her, she couldn’t help but feel a kindness toward him, a thawing of that cold part of her heart where she’d kept her memories of their short marriage. She had loved him with all of her young, naive heart, and no other man had ever taken his place. No man could. But she forced all those long-buried thoughts of love aside.

“You have no right to do this,” she said quietly.

“I have every right.”

“Why?”

“Because I care, damn it.” He whirled on her, and his gaze, flinty gray, drilled deep into hers. “I care more about you than anyone else on this planet—even more than your precious Alan Bently. If you haven’t figured it out yet, that man’s a leech. He only cares about you because he thinks a public romance with you will further his career.”

“Oh, save me—”

“It’s true.”

“How do you know? Have you ever talked to Alan?”

He snorted derisively. “Of course not.”

“Well, if you had, you might have found out that I’ve never been involved with him.”

“That’s not what the tabloids say.”

“You read the tabloids?” she repeated, amused.

“No, but where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

“And you care?”

His lips twisted downward. “I told you—I care about you. As for Bently, the man’s the worst kind of opportunist. All those rumors that link you to Alan, I can just imagine what they do to the ratings.”

“Wh-what?” she demanded, getting a glimmer of what he was alluding to.

“It’s a ratings thing, isn’t it? Your morning talk show is pitted against a couple of other shows, isn’t it? I’ll bet your network thought it would boost viewership if you and Alan got married.”

“That’s absurd!” she gasped.

“Is it?” He opened a cupboard and found a brand-new bottle of Scotch. With a hard twist of his wrist, he snapped open the cap, breaking the label, and after locating a small glass, poured himself a stiff shot.

He took a slow swallow, and her gaze traveled from his firm chin to the silky way his Adam’s apple moved in his neck. God, he could reach her as no other man could. There was an irresistible male force surrounding him, and she was oh, so susceptible. She dragged her gaze away.

“I know you never believed it, Kaylie, but I loved you. More than any man should love a woman. I was the one who was obsessed.”

“And now?” she asked, her voice trembling. They were wading in hazardous water. “Did you bring me up here because of Johnston? Or was there another reason?”

His gaze locked with hers for a second. Then he tossed back his drink. “And now I’m protecting you. Period. If you think this is some kind of exotic seduction, guess again. I don’t have to go to so much trouble.”

“I’d hope not,” she said evenly, though emotions were tearing through her, “because if you did, you would’ve lived a very celibate life in the past seven years!”

“Maybe I have,” he said, but he had to have been joking. Dear Lord, when she thought of his passion, his wild lovemaking, his wanton sense of adventure in the bedroom, delicious chills still skittered down her spine. No, Zane Flannery might have gone seven days without a woman, possibly even a month or two, but seven years—never! His sexual appetite was too primal, too instinctive. She studied the rock-hard jut of his chin, the angle of his cheeks, the authority in the curve of his thin lips.

He eyed her just as speculatively. “And what about you, Kaylie?” he asked suddenly, his eyes darkening to the color of a winter storm. “What about your sex life?”

She hadn’t blushed in years, but now a red heat stole steadily up her neck and face, stinging her cheeks. “I don’t think we should be discussing this!”

“It’s just one question. A pretty straightforward question.”

She swallowed back the urge to lie and tell him that she’d had a dozen or so lovers. “My work keeps me pretty busy,” she hedged. “I haven’t had time for too many relationships.”

“Neither have I,” he replied, his gaze finding hers. The silent seconds stretched between them. Kaylie heard only the rapid cadence of her heartbeat, the air whispering through his lungs. “I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you, Kaylie,” he added, staring into the amber depths of his glass. “You can deny it all you want, you can even pretend that you didn’t love me, but there it is. I handled it badly, I admit. But I just loved you too much.” Drawing in a deep breath, he finished his drink, dropped his empty glass into the sink, then started out of the room. “Your bedroom is upstairs to the right. I’m next door. But don’t worry about your virtue tonight. I’m just too damned tired from arguing with you to do anything about it.”

Her throat closed in on itself as she watched him saunter out of the room, the dog at his heels. The faded fabric of Zane’s jeans clung to his hips, and his buttocks moved fluidly, though his shoulders and back were ramrod stiff.

“Good night, Kaylie,” he called over his shoulder as he mounted the stairs. “Turn out the lights when you go to bed.”

“And what makes you think I’ll stay here?” she replied, following him to the stairs, but remaining at the bottom of the steps.

He paused at the landing, one hand resting on the banister. Turning, he towered over her, and again she noticed the torment in his eyes. “It’s dark, and the nearest house is over ten miles away. The main road is even farther. Now, if you want to start making tracks through the wilderness, there’s nothing I can do to stop you, but I will catch up to you.”

“You have no right to do this! No right!” she screamed.

He suddenly looked tired. “That’s a difference of opinion,” he said, then mounted the rest of the steps, leaving her, fists clenched in fury, to stare after him. She felt a twinge of regret for the fleeting, giddy love they’d shared, but she shoved those old emotions into a shadowy corner of her heart. Loving Zane had been a mistake; marrying him had nearly stripped her of her own personality, and she wasn’t about to fall into that trap again.

She glanced down at her hands and slowly uncoiled her fingers. Though she remembered her love with Zane as being unique, it was based on all the wrong emotions.