Midnight Sins (21 page)

was beginning to stare into.

There was a reason she had run from Rafe each

time they had spent the night together. Slipping from

his hotel room before he awoke and catching a ride to

the nearest airport or car rental.

She had run because sleeping with him had

opened something inside her that she hadn’t been

able to face. It had thrown her back into the past with

a suddenness that had left her crying for days. The

memories were going to destroy her. She could feel it

coming. They were right there, fighting to rush in and

destroy her control, and there wasn’t a lot of control

left some days. Some days the unnamed restless

pain that never seemed to dissipate seemed to grow.

To overtake that part of her with a hunger that

threatened to destroy her.

The first time she had seen him the summer she

had turned thirteen, she had sworn she had fallen in

love with the man her sister called her best friend,

Rafer Callahan. The man Cami had known

instinctively that her sister was sleeping with.

Cami had loved his name. She had loved his

fierce blue eyes, the laughter in them, the way he

walked with such cocky confidence, and the way he

had smiled at her.

For months she had haunted her sister’s

apartment, even though he had moved out. Cami had

watched for him, searched for him. He had never

been far from her mind on any given day.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t do this

again. Irritation and frustration were rising inside her

now. She had sworn she wouldn’t allow herself to ever

come this close to losing her soul as she had the last

time she and Rafer had been together. Yet here she

was doing just that. She was losing the control it took

to keep him at arm’s length and to control the

emotions that swirled inside her like a violent storm.

Turning, Cami moved back into the warmth of the

kitchen, watching as Rafe cleaned up the dishes from

the simple dinner of pork roast, red potatoes, gravy,

and rolls she had prepared from the supplies he had

on hand.

He’d watched her cook as though no one had

ever cooked for him. Silently, his sapphire gaze had

tracked every move she made, hunger gleaming in

his eyes.

“Coffee?” He looked at her expectantly, one

black brow arching quizzically.

He was too damned good-looking for her peace

of mind. Six feet, three inches, broad, muscular—if

there was an ounce of fat on his flesh, then she hadn’t

found it yet.

His thick, silky black hair fell around his face,

giving the savage features a sexy, sensuous cast that

immediately drew female eyes. It always looked a bit

mussed, as though a woman had just run her fingers

through it and enjoyed the soft, cool feel of it.

Dressed in jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt,

the long sleeves rolled to his elbows, he looked like a

lazy tiger prowling his lair. Biding his time before he

took his mate.

She almost didn’t control the jerk of shock that hit

her at the thought. She wasn’t a mate; she wasn’t a

lover. This was where she invariably managed to get

herself in trouble when it came to Rafer.

Rafe,
she reminded herself. She was going to

have to begin calling him Rafe, or she would draw

more attention to herself than she wanted. Everyone

called him Rafe. No one ever called him Rafer except

her. And she just couldn’t seem to break the habit.

“Daydreaming or fantasizing, Cambria?” That

silky drawl, so wicked in its sensuality, had her gaze

jerking from his chest to his face.

“Excuse me?” She blinked back at him,

wondering if he could see into those fantasies and

daydreams.

He gave a light chuckle as he moved to the

coffeepot. “Have a seat; I’ll make the coffee.”

She stepped warily to the table, only just barely

controlling her flush of embarrassment at what had

taken place on that table the night before.

His head between her thighs, his tongue dancing

wickedly over and inside her pussy. His hands on her

breasts, her nipples. Her own hands there—

She clasped her hands in her lap tightly and

pressed her thighs together with a firm admonishment

that she was not going to get wet. She would not get

wet. She wasn’t wearing panties and she simply

couldn’t afford to have her juices gathering and

easing—

Her teeth clenched in anger at herself.

There it was. The slow, easy glide of her juices

from her vagina. At this rate, her jeans were going to

be wet and she didn’t have anything else to wear.

“You slept deep last night.” He spoke quietly as

he set the coffee in front of her. “I think we could have

had a bomb going off outside the bedroom and it

wouldn’t have shaken you.”

His smile was a slight quirk.

How long had it been since he had smiled?

Had he gotten over Jaymi’s death? Did he even

think of the death of his lover in his arms as anything

other than the event that had nearly destroyed his life?

“I need to make a few phone calls,” she said.

Rather than asking the questions raging through her,

she went for something more mundane, something

simple. She needed to get in touch with her aunt and

uncle and let them know she was safe. No doubt Aunt

Ella was beside herself, pacing the floors by now.

“Phones are down; cell-phone reception is lousy

at best,” he told her. “There’s a chance you’ll get a text

out if you stand on the balcony outside the bedroom.”

Her aunt and uncle were no doubt worried to

death.

“There was about a forty-minute lag time on mine

to Crowe,” he told her. “He’s in the cabin.” He nodded

toward the mountains rising behind the house.

Crowe Callahan’s cabin was so far up that

mountain that when the cousins had disappeared

after the judge released them twelve years before, it

had taken days for the sheriff to find them again when

he’d been forced to return their belongings.

She nodded. If she was lucky, her aunt and uncle

would at least know she was safe and warm until the

storm was over. She’d simply stated she was with a

friend. Would they suspect who that friend was, she

wondered? Perhaps not at first, but her aunt’s intuition

could be amazingly precise.

Sliding the cup of coffee across the table minutes

later, Rafe took the opposite chair and lounged back

in it lazily.

“So what’s your story?” he asked.

Her cup halfway to her lips, Cami looked up at

him slowly, knowing exactly what he was talking about

simply from the hint of underlying anger in his voice.

What would her excuse be for being at the Triple

R Ranch during a blizzard with Rafer Callahan? And

in his eyes she could see a demand for a reason why

she would need an excuse.

“The truth usually works.” She sighed. “The car

slid into a snowdrift and I had to stay here.”

“And where did you sleep?” The hard curve of his

lips didn’t even resemble a smile. “I need to know

what to say when the good folks of Sweetrock decide

to decimate me again because I slept with one of

their favorite daughters.”

“Like I tell the kids at school, don’t borrow trouble

and you won’t have as many problems,” she told him.

“If they ask, do what you’ve always done before and

shoot them that arrogant look before turning and

walking away. Change the way you act and you give

them more to talk about.”

And what the hell was
she
going to say? The

question was bound to come up. Any woman seen in

the company of a Callahan eventually faced the third

degree. Then, there was always the series of lectures,

and enough harassment that they’d walk away from

the Callahan simply out of frustration.

But it was rumored Rafe never really gave a

damn. If a lady left before he did, then
oh well,
was the

attitude he seemed to take. That was the impression

he had always given, but Cami remembered Jaymi’s

comment once that Tye had told her about the times

Rafer had often retreated within himself afterwards.

Tye had sworn that those rejections and opposition

were destroying Rafe. Cami couldn’t imagine that he

had endured them without serious internal scars.

“So, we’re on the sly here then.” He gave a slow

nod. “Did I give up my bed for you? Or was I my

normal cruel self and forced you to sleep on the

couch?”

“Don’t, Rafe.” Cami wrapped her hands around

the cup as she stared back at him directly. “Things

can’t be any different and you know it. What

happened to Jaymi changed everything.”

He snorted. “You were only thirteen then, Cami. I

had no thoughts at all of you, sexually. But later—” He

shook his head. “You want me until it’s all you can do

to sit still in that damned chair and you’ll still deny it,

won’t you?”

He leaned forward, pushing the cup slowly out of

his way as he braced his arms on the table and

glared back at her. “Tell me, Cami, when will it stop

mattering to you what the people think?”

“When my job no longer depends on it?” she

suggested, feeling his tension, his anger, licking at

her now. “When my parents don’t stare at my sister’s

picture with such grief and my mother isn’t sobbing

because she lost her daughter and the men she

believes killed her have gone unpunished.”

Her lips thinned as she breathed out roughly.

Cami’s hand jerked up, covered her lips.

God, she hadn’t wanted to say that; She hadn’t

wanted to hurt either of them with the truth he should

know by now couldn’t be avoided.

His eyes narrowed back at her as mockery filled

his expression. “Yeah, that was real dumb,” he

drawled. “We both know there’s no way the Callahan

cousins can defend themselves against what the

good people of Sweetrock think.” He gave a short

bark of laughter at the thought. “Or should I say, what

the barons tell them to think?”

Cami could only shake her head at the comment.

“You know how they are, Rafe. The barons, for

whatever reason, want the three of you out of

Sweetrock forever. You’ve had twelve years to try to

convince everyone differently and you haven’t even

made the attempt. You return home every so often,

stare down your nose at them, and pretend they don’t

matter. When you know that if you want to stay here,

then it does matter.”

“What matters, Cami? Their opinion?” Rafe