Sexy, Single And Searching. Lori Wilde

Santa Cruz, she’d bought several books she looked forward to reading. What better time to do that than when you were stuck inside on a rainy night?

      Alone.

      Shannon closed the screen and went back to the couch. In spite of the glowing heat, she felt chilled. She grabbed the afghan off the back of the sofa and draped it over her shoulders. Still she shivered. Damn him for showing up on her doorstep and disrupting her quiet peaceful evening.

      She did not want him here. She didn’t need the warmth that radiated from him. She didn’t need his problems.

      She didn’t care how many times he told her he worked in computers. She had a hard time believing it. But she couldn’t come up with a reason he’d lie about his identity, either.

      Well, liar or not, she didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of him. Tending his wounds had brought back her experience with Tony as vividly as if it were yesterday. She did not want to patch up another man just to have him turn around and get shot again. She’d barely survived the first time.

      “Shannon?”

      She jerked around and saw Caleb leaning against the back of the couch. He’d wrapped the quilt around himself, and his face was pale from exertion.

      All thoughts of the past faded. She jumped up and went to him. “For heaven’s sake, what are you—Never mind. Come and sit down before you fall down.”

      She put her arm around his wide back and guided him to the couch. It seemed incongruous that she should be helping a man who made her feel tiny and vulnerable. Yet when she looked at his mouth, pinched with pain he’d probably scoff at, she couldn’t help feeling protective.

      As he sat on the couch, the quilt slipped from around his shoulders, reminding her that he wore nothing underneath. Not that she’d really forgotten. That would have been as hard as ignoring the fact that he was a man. A dangerously attractive man, with a dimple charming enough to make the hardest woman melt at his feet.

      “You must be cold,” she said, hoping he’d take the hint and cover himself.

      He looked up at her. “I’m fine.”

      His blue gaze met hers. His eyes were quite beautiful, she thought involuntarily. Clear and shiny, like the sky reflected in a raindrop. They seemed to see inside her, sense things Shannon didn’t want to share.

      She looked away. He was much too compelling. She’d told herself her reaction had nothing to do with him, but that wasn’t exactly the truth. Taking him into her home, she’d probably saved his life. It didn’t matter that he was a stranger, and a lying one at that. She still didn’t want to pick up the newspaper next week or next month and see an article reporting the death of Caleb Joseph in some freak accident. Thinking of those beautiful blue eyes cold and lifeless hurt her heart in a way she hadn’t felt since she’d lost Tony.

      Not liking the path her mind had taken, Shannon searched for an out and found it. “I put some chicken soup on the stove earlier. I’m sure it’s been hours since you’ve eaten.”

      Caleb shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m not really hungry. If you’ll give me my clothes, I’ll get out of your hair.”

      She raised an eyebrow at him. The concussion had obviously scrambled his brain. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to accept my hospitality for a while longer.” She walked over to the stove and turned on the burner.

      “Shannon, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your taking me in and taking care of me, but I have to check on my friend. He got caught in the landslide, too. I really need to borrow your Jeep.”

      “It won’t do any good,” Shannon told him patiently as she stirred the soup. He really sounded worried. Her heart went out to him.

      And that has to stop right now, she ordered herself. You’re better off treating him like one of your readers. A stranger looking for expert advice. Though she’d never felt less like an expert.

      “It’s a four-wheel drive,” he persisted. “Surely it’ll be able to negotiate a little flooding.”

      Lightning flashed, followed immediately by thunder so loud it rattled the windows. Shannon turned on him, hands on hips. “Are you paying attention at all? The Santa Cruz Mountains don’t know what ‘a little flooding’ means. It’s been raining off and on for weeks. Power lines are down. The hills are saturated. The landslide that almost buried you wasn’t the first this winter and it won’t be the last. Until the rain stops, you’re just going to have to stay put.”

      She swung back to the stove. This was really something, having to convince the man to stay when she didn’t want him here in the first place!

      The soup started to simmer. She picked up the wooden spoon and stirred it. “Besides, your right arm is injured. How do you propose to drive a stick shift?” Realizing that might sound like a challenge, Shannon hurried on, “But if you’re really set on leaving, I guess I could drive you.”

      “Absolutely not!”

      Shannon turned to look at him. “I beg your pardon?”

      “There’s no way in hell I’d let you drive in this kind of weather. The roads are far too dangerous and—” Caleb stopped abruptly. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

      Shannon shrugged and picked up a soup mug and ladle. Reverse psychology. Tony had used it on her so often that she’d picked up the trick herself. She filled the mug, then found a spoon and returned to the couch.

      He looked up at her, eyes narrowed. She could almost hear the wheels turning. She held the mug out to him. “Go ahead. You won’t lose any macho points by eating a little soup.”

      He took it. “This isn’t macho posturing. There are people out there who are counting on me.”

      “Counting on you to what? Fix their computers?” she asked innocently. “Since there’s no electricity for miles, I bet they can wait.” She took her own mug and crossed to the rocking chair next to the fireplace. “Besides, you’re not going to be much help to those people if you’re dead. Driving around in the rain with a concussion is not conducive to good health.” An understatement to be sure, and the reason she refused to tell him about Tony’s automatic four-wheel-drive pickup truck sitting in her garage. He might be capable of driving it, but that didn’t guarantee he wouldn’t end up in a ditch. “When the weather calms down a little, I’ll drive you wherever you want to go. For now you’re stuck, so you might as well enjoy your soup.”

      Obediently Caleb ate a spoonful. He couldn’t argue with her logic, but it wasn’t going to be easy waiting around until he could safely leave. Well, one thing he could be grateful for: If he couldn’t get out, then no one could get in. Which meant he didn’t have to worry about one of the Driscoes showing up looking for him.

      He glanced over at Shannon. With the light behind her, her face was cast in shadows. He suspected she preferred it that way. Secrets and shadows.

      “So who was the man who made you bury yourself in the wilds of the Santa Cruz Mountains?”

      Shannon started at his deliberately abrupt question. “How do you know I’m not just staying here for a vacation?”

      He glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings with a trained eye. “Bookshelves filled with books. Curtains on the windows. Furniture old but well cared for. Art on the walls. Way too homey to be only a temporary retreat. Besides, even the most dedicated techie doesn’t travel around with all that state-of-the-art equipment.” He gestured toward her computer. “I should know,” he added. Even if she did suspect the lie, she couldn’t be sure of the truth. It was safer that way. “So why don’t you tell me about—”

      “It’s really none of your business,” she said coolly.

      And he might have let it go if he hadn’t seen the flash of pain that crossed her face. “Well, the storm outside isn’t letting up. And until it does, as you pointed