Covert Christmas (10 page)

Cam let go of Tara's arm and preceded her down the stairs. Since they were stuck here, she might as well say what she'd come to say. He would listen and then feed her and find her
a semi-warm place to sleep until he could get her off his mountain. But that was it.

No reminiscing. No erotic daydreams while she was this close. And absolutely no touching allowed.

“To ease your mind about your pursuer,” he began as they hit the bottom of the stairs, “while I was outside, I discovered the driveway has been completely blocked by a small avalanche of snow. Unless the guy can fly through the middle of a deadly storm and land in a thirty-mile-an-hour gale, he will not be getting through.”

She put her hand to her heart. “Thank God. Maybe we'll be able to reach the sheriff before the snow stops.”

“I want to hear more about it. How are you feeling now? Make yourself comfortable on the couch in front of the fire while I fix us something to eat before the generator shuts down again.” He turned away and headed into the open part of the kitchen.

“Uh…how long do you think we'll be stuck?”

Cam pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge, not certain how he should answer. Tara saved him the trouble.

“I know, it depends on the storm. I'm really sorry to be such a bother, Cam. This isn't working out at all the way I pictured when I decided to come to you for help.”

“That reminds me. Tell me again why you came here?”

“I think I'd better start at the beginning.”

“Go ahead. I can listen and cook at the same time.”

He filled the coffeemaker and set it to brew. Then he pulled a pan off the hanging rack, cracked several eggs into a bowl and began to chop a few veggies. His movements were deliberate, economical. Cooking was one of those things he did under duress. But he had been learning to get by with it for the last four years.

Tara stood up and wandered toward the huge open countertop that lay between the kitchen and the great room. “I guess I should start by telling you that I graduated college with a law enforcement degree.”

Law enforcement? Another huge surprise from a woman
he'd once thought he knew better than he knew himself. But Cam kept his mouth shut and let her go on with her tale.

She leaned against the counter and watched him work. “I went to work for the state, the CDPS. But shortly afterward I was recruited by the CBI, the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. After a while, I was promoted to a special unit, working under the governor's direction.”

“Sounds like you were good at your job.” He wasn't surprised. He'd always known Tara was smarter than anyone else imagined.

She shrugged off the compliment. “I guess so. One day the governor called me into his office and told me he had a problem. He'd been approached by someone who supposedly had secret intel on the attorney general. Intel about the AG skimming, not only from his own political action committee, but also from state coffers.”

“Isn't the attorney general in charge of the CBI? That would make him your commander.”

Tara nodded. “Right. And we'd always gotten along well. This wasn't something I was thrilled to hear, Cam. Believe me. But the governor asked me to go undercover. He wanted me to ask the AG for a job in his election office so I could spy on him and find the facts.

“It meant I had to quit my CBI job and stop outwardly being in law enforcement.” She sighed deeply. “I just couldn't turn down the governor, could I?”

“I suppose not. But…”

“Yeah. I had a lot of ‘buts' in my mind too. Still, I did it—secretly hoping to find that the intel was wrong. That the AG wasn't a crook. Unfortunately, that hope didn't pan out.”

“The AG is skimming?”

“And taking bribes and…well, I have all the pertinent info on a thumb drive and I was on my way to turn it over to the governor. To put an end to the career of a man I had always respected.”

Cam's law enforcement training kicked in. “I assume the
AG found out you were spying.” He put a mug of coffee down in front of her.

“Yes. I don't know how long he's suspected, but last night I realized someone had been tailing me. I called the governor and he told me to bring the drive to him at his family's vacation home in Aspen without letting on. We still don't know who we can trust.

“Obviously I didn't get there,” she said calmly as she took a quick sip of coffee. “I wasn't far from the turnoff for Juniper when I realized I hadn't lost the stalker. I figured my chances of reaching here and maybe shaking the guy first were a heck of a lot better than trying to make it all the way to Aspen.”

“And you nearly died trying.” He could scarcely believe this was the same girl he used to know.

He plated the eggs and took them to the kitchen table. “Grab the silverware and come eat.”

He'd said the words as though the last ten years had never happened. But when she went to the correct drawer with no prompting, the pain reappeared in his chest and a lump as big as the Rockies jumped into his throat.

As Tara sat at the table in her old place, she said. “While we eat, can you tell me about your daughter? About the night your wife died?”

His back went up immediately as he claimed his own chair. “Why? It couldn't matter to you.”

“Yeah, it does. Something is still bothering you there. I can tell by the look in your eyes when you mentioned she'd died and by the fact there's no pictures of your wife in the house. I still care about you, Cam.”

Talking about his wife's death was the last thing Cam wanted to do. He'd managed to put off the psychiatrists when they'd tried to probe. Rehashing the whole deal now, especially with Tara, was out of the question.

He would tell her no. But knowing Tara, she would keep asking until she finally exposed his sore spots. Hell.

A
few hours after the meal was over and dishes put away, Tara felt groggy from sitting quietly in front of the fireplace. She noticed the couch cushions jiggling under her bottom and when she opened her eyes, Cam was sitting close. He carried two after-dinner glasses, both containing a dark liquid that glowed amber in the firelight.

“You're awake,” he said softly. “The electricity is off again and I added logs to the fire. Would you like a glass of brandy?”

“It'll probably knock me out cold, but thanks.” She took a tentative sip. “Is everything all right?”

He shrugged and swirled the aged liquid in his glass. “The snow is falling harder now but everything is quiet. I'll probably have to shovel off the porch roof if we get much more of this. Don't want it collapsing.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

Cam shook his head. “Not really. Are you still tired?”

“Not really.” She used his own words and gave him a wry smile. “I've been resting my eyes. Why?”

“Nothing.” Cam stared at the brandy in his glass. “So why don't you tell me about your private life. What have you been doing for the last ten years?”

“Are you asking if I'm married or involved?” The idea that he would be curious was intriguing. “I'm neither. Never married. I was too busy working my way through school and then starting my career. Recently, undercover work hasn't left much of an opening for, uh…entanglements.”

“I imagine. But about your schooling. I thought—”

Tara felt the heat flare in her face and the anger pushing at her patience, but she fought to bank them. “You thought your parents paid my way through school in return for breaking it off with you. Still believe that? As I tried to tell you then, scholarships and government loans helped me pay my own way. I never took a dime from them.”

She caught the surprise and rebuke in Cam's eyes and was about to put up her hackles and continue the fight that had been interrupted ten years ago. But in his typical politically correct style, Cam's face dimpled into a huge grin before she could say a word.

“Good for you for making it through on your own,” he murmured. “I always said you were the smart one and a hard worker.”

His parents hadn't thought so. They'd been stunned when she turned down their offer of a bribe. That was the only word for what they'd offered. It had made her so angry. And had embarrassed her even though in the end, they were probably right to try ending the relationship.

But his parents were dead now, and she wasn't here to fight with Cam. If he really believed her or not, she needed his help. Moreover, he seemed to need her too. He'd saved her life this afternoon, and Tara wondered if she could do anything to help him in return.

What was he really after with his questions? As a trained investigator, she clearly saw the underlying angst and hunger in his eyes. The hunger she understood. It was everything she
could do while sitting beside him not to jump into his arms and rip off his clothes.

As kids they'd been such a hot couple, unable to keep their hands off each other. For years she'd tried to block those images and the fire they'd caused deep inside her gut, but she had never really been successful.

It was the angst in his eyes now that caused her the most concern. Something very strange was going on behind those startling, glacier-green eyes.

She set her glass down on the side table and folded her arms over her breasts in order to keep her hands to herself. “Where's your daughter tonight? Is she safe from the storm?”

His light-green eyes turned deepest emerald, almost black. “Chloe is fine. She's spending her birthday and Christmas with her maternal grandparents down in Juniper.”

Look at his eyes. Clearly that was another sore spot. What on earth was going on inside this man whom she had loved nearly all her life?

“Chloe. That's a nice name.” Maybe she could get him talking. “Were you planning on joining her in Juniper for the holiday before the snow arrived?” The storm could've put a chink in his plans, too, and that was what was wrong.

“I was on my way back from dropping her off when I spotted you.”

“Wait.” Tara looked around the room at the obvious lack of Christmas cheer. “You were planning on spending the holidays alone? Up here on the mountaintop with no family and no decorations?”

Sipping his brandy slowly, Cam was quiet a long time. Too long. She was about to ask him something else or to make another remark when he murmured, “It's the way I spend the holidays now. The way I want it. Being alone. I devote Christmas Eve to the memory of my wife. Not with celebrations, but with reflection and contemplation.”

Huh? Tara had been a detective too long to take those comments for anything but what they were—guilt. Plain and simple.

Surely she could make Cam explain why, but she'd better take things slow. “How does Chloe feel about you skipping her birthday and Christmas?”

“She doesn't understand. She's too young. But she will some day.”

“I see. Do you buy her gifts? Spend time later with her?”

He didn't answer but stood to stir the coals and add another log.

“Four is too young,” Tara said, letting him hear the condemnation in her voice. “Too young to understand why her daddy doesn't love her. Why he blames her for her mother's death.”

He spun and came back to the couch. “I do love her. But…” When his eyes came up to meet hers through the firelight, his face was full of anguish.

She couldn't help herself. With her heart aching for him, she reached over and touched his cheek. Instead of pulling away, he leaned against her palm.

“She's starting to look just like Mandy, Tara. I can't…I can't bear to look at my own child anymore.”

Oh, her poor love. He was such a good person and this was tying him in knots, turning him into something he had always hated. “Maybe you should tell me about the night Chloe was born. Tell me what really happened.”

Cam gave in and closed his eyes, wearily leaning his head against the couch cushions. “Mandy had been having a difficult pregnancy and needed bed rest and complete quiet. At the eighth month, we were both holding our breaths, waiting for the emergency we feared was coming.”

He cleared his throat but kept his eyes closed against the terrible images running in his head. Did he have the courage to tell this tale to Tara?

Yes. But only to Tara, and he'd only just realized that. “I knew her life was in danger, but when she encouraged me to continue with my job like nothing was wrong, I didn't argue. There wasn't anything I could do to help her. It was so frustrating sitting around and watching the hours tick by.

“So when our office needed to transport a prisoner on Christmas Eve day to stand trial in Denver, I volunteered so the deputies could stay with their families. I figured nothing would happen to Mandy on Christmas Eve, anyway. She'd been feeling a little better and her parents had arrived to be with her after the baby came. I knew they planned a big get-together up here for the holiday. They were due for dinner in a few hours. I kept telling myself nothing could go very wrong in just an afternoon.”

“But it did, didn't it?” Tara's voice was soft. Comforting.

He didn't deserve her sympathy—didn't want it. “I was too lost in my head, worrying about Mandy and the baby coming. Not paying close enough attention to my surroundings.” He swallowed down the curse he usually spat out over his own stupidity.

He was used to shouldering the blame silently, but Tara needed to hear all of it. She needed to really understand what a bastard he was.

“At a rest stop, the prisoner's buddies attacked my sheriff's cruiser. Before I knew what hit me, my prisoner was escaping and I was being roughed up and left for dead by his two pals.”

“Oh, Cam. That's not what I thought you would say at all. I'm so sorry. Is that how you hurt your knee?”

“How'd you know…?” In the past, Tara had always known everything about how he was doing—both physically and emotionally—they'd had that kind of connection without saying a word. “Mandy's parents kept the truth out of the papers, trying to save my law enforcement career. But the assault left me with a broken kneecap and two shots in the head. I was in a coma for six weeks. Near death for a while. When I got out, I had to take disability leave. Actually, I was ashamed to face the world after making such a huge mistake. And worse, my wife was…already buried.”

Tara took his hand in her own. “You don't have to finish this.”

“Yeah, I think I do.” There was a time when Tara's enchanting
voice and sweet way alternately soothed and stirred him. Now, it scraped at his memories and left him raw.

“If it wasn't for my careless inattention—” He swallowed his hurt and went on. “You see, after someone called Mandy and told her I was in the hospital and close to dying, she panicked. Ran to her car and started down the mountain to come for me. Her parents found her on their way up an hour later, still in her car, bleeding and unconscious. The doctors delivered Chloe just as Mandy took her last breath.”

Tara's cheeks were wet, her eyes still full of tears. “Cam…that wasn't your fault. You did nothing—”

“Stop it.” He pulled his hand away. “You sound like Mandy's parents. But I know the truth.” She was making him out to be a hero and a good husband, but he'd never been either one.

And no one else, especially Tara, would ever know all of it. The real reason he hated himself and was beginning to hate his innocent daughter. The truth of what kind of bastard he really was.

Feeling the frustration, the heat, the pain of his guilt, Cam tried to shake some sense into Tara. He gripped her shoulders and shook her hard.

“Open your eyes, Tara. See what's…” The look on her face. The love in her eyes. The understanding. It choked the words right out of his mouth and blurred his vision.

He didn't want her understanding or her sympathy. He wanted her back out of his life, but the conflict was killing him.

Lowering his head, he took her mouth with a fierce kiss. It wasn't at all the same as the tender kisses of their early years. And he didn't put his heart and soul into it the way he had always dreamed their first kiss after so many years would be. Oh no, not hardly.

Instead, he punished her mouth. Punished her for not being his wife, the way they'd always planned. Punished her for letting his parents destroy everything good they'd once had. Punished her for coming back into his life and making him feel alive again.

 

Shocked by Cam's surprise assault, Tara gave as good as she got. This wasn't the kiss of a heartsick, grieving man. No, his kiss was wild, desperate—exactly as she had been feeling. A little wild. A lot desperate.

Grabbing hold of the front of his shirt with both hands, she held on while the storm inside him battled at her senses. She had loved this man since she was seven years old. She would not back away from him when he needed her most.

Her heart hurt for him. Hurt for both of them. As much as she needed him physically, her heart was breaking over not being able to make his pain go away.

Tara's cheeks were drenched in tears. Tears she hadn't let herself cry in years. So many tears now. Too many. In a moment she realized half these tears belonged to Cam. But that idea made her cry all the harder.

Cam suddenly broke the kiss and shook her by the shoulders again. “Damn you, Tara. I want you so badly, I can hardly breathe. Damn you. Damn…”

“Love me, Cam. Make love to me the way it used to be. I need you. And you need…”

She couldn't see him clearly through her tears. And words were becoming impossible. Every minute of regret and longing was falling from her eyes like a sudden rainstorm.

Want me back, my love.

“I can't. Won't. You ask too much, dammit.” Cam grabbed her up close to his chest, and held her tightly inside his embrace so she couldn't see his face.

She cried, now harder than ever, for their lost years and the gulf between them. For the relationship that would never be repaired. Tara exhausted herself crying against his shoulder, as nothing else in the world—not a lonely little girl needing help—not a hitman waiting for his kill—could keep her mind from falling into the deep blackness of their empty past and bleak future.

When she finally grew cold, she opened her eyes. And found
herself alone. A creeping gray dawn blocked the windows, and the fireplace was dark and cheerless.

Where was Cam? Was it morning? Had they slept all night holding on to each other?

She restarted the fire and then went to search for him. The door alarms were still armed and she doubted he had gone out to the animals. So where…?

A sound on the front porch poured a shot of cold fear through her still-sleepy veins. She dived back into the great room for her backpack and rescued her weapon from the inside pocket. Maybe the hitman had found a way through the mountain of snow.

But when she chanced a look out to the porch, nothing was there but ice and beyond that the blizzard, still raging. Then she heard the noise again and this time saw a shower of snow coming from the roof and mixing with the swirling, windblown flakes.

Cam. Cleaning off the porch roof? Of course. Who else?

Tara put away her .38, dashed into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, then made her way to the front bedroom upstairs. She spotted Cam's silhouette through the frosty window as he wielded a snow shovel and balanced on the roof of the front porch. There was nothing she could do to help.

Sighing and suddenly starving, she started back down to the kitchen. When she hit the bottom of the stairs, the depressing atmosphere of the house suddenly began to prey on her nerves. How many more days would she be stuck here with a man who refused to give her a real chance? A man who even refused to have Christmas, for pity's sake?