Midnight Bride. Barbara McCauley

name?”

      He nodded slowly. “It is. Caleb Hunter.”

      Hunter. How appropriate, she thought. And she was the prey. Like a cornered, frightened bird, her heart raced, but she was unable to move, even as he sat back down beside her.

      “And my name? Did you make that up?”

      He reached toward her, hesitating when she shrank back, then slipped his hand under the collar of her shirt. Her breath held as his fingers skimmed her collarbone. She felt him gently tug on a chain around her neck she hadn’t realized she wore.

      “You came with an ID tag,” he said with a crooked smile.

      Her hand brushed his as she reached up to touch the necklace. His skin was hot and rough, hers cool and smooth, a blaring reminder of his masculinity against her femininity. A woman alone, with a man she didn’t know.

      She held his gaze as he pulled away, then glanced down at the chain. Sarah. A sweeping script of gold letters. She ran her fingers over each letter, trying desperately to remember something, anything. But as before, the attempt only intensified the pounding in her head.

      The room began to spin. She swayed slightly, then felt Caleb’s hands on her shoulders, guiding her backward. The pillow cushioned her head, and her pain eased.

      “You need to rest,” he said, and started to rise.

      “No!” She laid her hand on his arm. “I have to know something. Whatever you can tell me.”

      With a sigh, Caleb sat back down. “It was almost midnight. Wolf was unusually restless, agitated, as if he knew there was something wrong. I followed him down to the creek, which is more like a river right now, and I stumbled over you.”

      Stunned, Sarah looked at the animal, who had settled down contentedly beside the bed. “I was alone? In the middle of the night, in a storm?”

      He nodded. “Not exactly a healthy pastime.”

      She struggled to keep her mind clear, to try to comprehend even a little of what Caleb told her. “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital? Or call the police?”

      He shook his head. “The roads weren’t passable last night.”

      “And now?”

      He stared at her for a long time, then rose and walked to the window. Rain streaked the glass, and a sudden flash of lightning backlit Caleb’s tall form. Thunder rumbled close by.

      “Last night,” he said, turning to face her, “after I got you back to the cabin, you gained consciousness for a few moments. You pleaded with me not to call anyone.”

      “I pleaded with you? Why would I do that?”

      “That’s what I would like to know.”

      There it was again, she thought with confusion. The mistrust. But why? If he truly didn’t know her, or she him, why would he be suspicious? He moved toward her again, arms at his sides, carefully watching her face.

      “You begged me not to let them find you,” he said, standing beside the bed.

      “Them?” She pressed her fingers to her temple and rubbed at the stabbing pain that sliced through her head. “Who?”

      “I was hoping you might be able to tell me that,” he said without emotion. “You said, ‘no doctor, no police, don’t let them find me.’ You also had no ID on you.”

      She’d told him not to call anyone? That made no sense at all. “Is that why you don’t trust me, why you don’t believe me? You think I’m an escaped criminal and I’m on the run?” she asked incredulously.

      “You could be anyone, darlin’,” Caleb said dryly. “But one thing is clear. You were definitely on the run. From something, or somebody.”

      If she’d had the strength she would have laughed. On the run. Why would someone like her be running from anyone? Ridiculous. Except—she closed her eyes as the pain became nearly unbearable—she didn’t know what she was like.

      A moment passed, then she felt Caleb lift her head and press two aspirin into her mouth. She didn’t want them, she wanted her head to be clear so she could think.

      But what good would it do to fight him? He was right; she did need to rest. She could think later, sort it out. Surely by the time she woke up, she would have her memory back, and she could call someone to come get her. Just an hour or two, then the pieces would fall in place.

      You could be anyone. Caleb’s words sent a chill up her spine.

      She swallowed when he held the water glass to her lips. His hands were gentle as he laid her head back down. Her lids were heavy, but she forced them open.

      “Hey, Caleb,” she murmured as he turned to leave.

      He looked back at her. “Yeah?”

      “I think I liked it better when we were married.”

      

      Caleb finished unloading the groceries he’d picked up in town, then moved into the living room. The fire he’d started almost two hours before was nearly gone, and a chill had settled into the cabin. Sparks flew when he threw three more logs into the fireplace, and new flames crackled to life.

      After Sarah had fallen back asleep, there’d been a break in the storm and he’d decided to drive into town while the roads were passable. He’d made some inquiries—whether there’d been any accidents on the mountain during the storm or if any strangers had been in—but no one had seen or heard anything unusual. He’d also stopped by the sheriff’s for a casual chat, but again, nothing. After buying a few things, he’d hurried back to the cabin just in time for the sky to open up again and unleash the current downpour. Wolf, who’d been posted outside Sarah’s door while he’d been gone, had taken off for parts unknown, mindless of the weather.

      Caleb threw another log on the fire and brushed his hands off on his jeans. He wasn’t expecting snow, but with the temperature dropping steadily over the past couple of hours, no doubt there’d be a coat of ice outside tonight thick enough to skate on. He frowned as he realized it might be difficult getting out again for a day or two.

      Which also meant it would be difficult getting in.

       Please don’t let them find me.

      Caleb narrowed his eyes and stared into the dancing flames. Sarah’s words and the desperate tone in her voice played over and over in his mind. She’d been nearly unconscious when he’d brought her in from the storm. Why would he give credence to anything a half-drowned, incoherent female said? Especially one who’d had a knock on the head. For all he knew, she might have meant the little green men with four eyes and antenna hair.

      He knew a lot about paranoia. It ran deep, made a person suspicious of everyone from the mailman to little girls selling cookies.

      And most especially, to women who washed up on the bank of a creek in the middle of the night—right outside the door of a high-level federal government agent, whom half the agency wanted to find and reinstate in service, and the other half wanted to kill.

      He certainly wouldn’t put it past the agency to sink to a stunt like this. Sending a female operative to find him. Not to bring him back, of course. Even though it had been six months, they knew only too well that no one could bring him back until he was damn good and ready. If she was an agent, her duty would be to assess the situation and report back, nothing more.

      He smiled slowly. Between climbing into bed with her, then rolling on the floor with her this morning, she’d certainly have plenty to report. Just thinking about those long legs and how incredibly soft her body had been underneath his brought an instantaneous tightening in his lower regions. And those eyes of hers. Lord help any man who fell into those baby blues.

      With a sigh, he picked up the fireplace poker and stabbed at the logs. He just couldn’t believe that