The wonderful, rich almond soap shed used was exactly the same as the kind she used at home. She glanced at the basket on the marble counter, overflowing with the usual bathroom survival products, from deodorant to toothpaste, manicure tools to toothbrush. Each item was still packaged, new. But they were all her own choice of brands, the same products she bought.
An odd shiver chased up her spine. She wasnt sure whether she should feel cossetedor controlled.
There were too many products that were the same as the ones she was accustomed to using to be coincidental. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to know personal things about her, her daily life. And yeah, it had to be the man downstairs. Maguire.
But why?
Belatedly she spotted a robe hung on the bathroom door-Oriental silk, red and black, long, with a thin, slippery sash. The robe definitely wasnt hers, which happened to be pink and old and sexless. Right then, she was happy to put on anything different from the hospital scrubs shed been wearing.
She dried her hair, brushed her teeth, then wrapped the robe snugly around her before risking opening the door. There was no one in sight. The hallway revealed two closed doors on the other side, which she assumed led to other bedrooms.
At the end of the hall was an open staircase, leading to a massive downstairs area. It was a lot to take in, in a single visual gulp. A round fireplace dominated the center of the room. Furnishings splashed around that-couches, giant chairs, an oak table polished to the gleam of glass. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed mountain views on all sides, as if the house had fallen from the sky and had been plunked down in the middle of rugged, wild hills.
The place was breathtaking, yet Carolina wrapped her arms around her chest as she tiptoed downstairs. As luxurious and unique as the lodge was, it was also-for her-bizarre.
She was happy to escape the cage her life had turned into, but that still didnt remotely make this situation right. Shed been rested, fed, cleaned up, but now she needed serious answers. A frame for this picture that someone had put her in.
She saw no sign of Maguire. But once she reached the last stair, she realized there was another wing of rooms off to the east. Hed mentioned there was an office or library with books somewhere, but she figured shed explore that direction later.
For now, the open downstairs captured her attention. Her bare feet sank into thick, soft green carpet. Morning sunlight flushed the room with light. A squirrel scampered along a door ledge. A bevy of goofy-looking quail pecked in the yard, making her smile. It wasnt as if the craziness in her life had disappeared, only that shed almost forgotten what it was like to have simple moments, enjoying life and sunlight and the easy pleasure of natural things like watching a silly squirrel.
But then a photo snared her attention. Two pictures were framed on the lamp table, but only one of them instantly riveted her attention. She bent down to get a better look.
The small child in the photo was barely a toddler. He was outside-the same yard Carolina could see from the window-running in his pajamas, giggling, joy in his big eyes, his face. Someone was chasing him, causing all the laughter, the fun. The camera had just captured that moment, of a delightfully happy boy with taffy hair and pudgy fingers and unrestrained glee.
Carolina picked up the photograph with trembling fingers.
She knew the child. Tommy. It had to be Tommy.
Her eyes welled with tears. She couldnt seem to help making a keening soundand then realized, for the first time in ages, shed not only made that helpless sound of affection and sorrow
But shed heard it. Heard her own voice.
Her hearing had finally returned.
Although Maguire never heard her walking around, some sixth sense triggered an awareness that Carolina had come downstairs. He severed the phone call and crossed the office to the door.
There she was, in the living area. Her hair fluffed around her cheeks, about as tame as gossamer, and the long robe swam on her slim frame. She was barefoot, holding Tommys photo in her hand.
He saw the tears in her eyes. The emotion. The vulnerability.
Hey, he said with alarm. But then remembered, of course, that she couldnt hear.
On the other side of the lamp was another photo. He grabbed it, showed her. In the picture, Tommy was a little older, but not so big that Maguire couldnt easily carry him around on his shoulders. Maybe they didnt look physically alike, and Maguire was certainly a lot older, but the photo should have showed her their relationship. He loved Tommy. He was as crazy about his half brother as Tommy had always been about him. They may have had different mothers, but they were unmistakably kin.
She saw. So thats how you knew about me? she asked. Because of Tommy? Because youre part of Tommys family?
He nodded. Eventually that answer would undoubtedly raise more questions for her than it revealedbut it was still a punch of information that mattered. Her shoulders lost some of that stiff wariness.
It was a beginning.
Rather than grab the netbook and trying to type-talk to her, he figured hed see how far they could get with sign language for a while. Would she like to go outside? Walk? He brought sweatpants and a sweatshirt for her to wear, boots she could pad up with thick wool socks, a jacket of his.
Initially she seemed to hesitate, but she shot such a longing look at the outside that he knew she was sold on the idea. It only took her a few minutes to take the makeshift clothes into the bathroom and emerge, looking like a homeless waif-but definitely a waif up for an adventure. The doctors had warned him that she needed serious rest and no exertion, but Maguire had to believe a little fresh air and sunshine would do her good.
Their first step outside, and he heard her chuckle, and saw how a natural smile transformed her face. Quail had hung out on the property for years, and this particular community of twenty-five or so looked exactly like what they were. Doofuses. Bobbing doofuses. They followed the leader, even when the leader was clumsy enough to trip on a rock and lead them through puddles.
Their first step outside, and he heard her chuckle, and saw how a natural smile transformed her face. Quail had hung out on the property for years, and this particular community of twenty-five or so looked exactly like what they were. Doofuses. Bobbing doofuses. They followed the leader, even when the leader was clumsy enough to trip on a rock and lead them through puddles.
A sassy wind blushed Carolinas cheeks, combed wildly through her hair. He grabbed her hand, climbing over a tall rock through the pines. Her eyes shot to his at the physical contact, but she didnt object.
A quarter-mile hike through pines led to a cliff edge. It wasnt the best view, just a pretty vista-the mountains were getting a drench of snow in the distance, with a sunlit valley just below, salted with grazing deer.
Abruptly, though, he realized that he was still holding her hand, that they were standing hip-bumping close. His pulse gave an uneasy buck. The view was nice, but the way she looked at him, youd have thought hed given her gold.
He wanted-needed-Carolina to believe she could trust him, but those soft eyes conveyed something else. Something more. Somethingworrisome.
Swiftly he dropped her hand. Okay, Cee. Thats enough exercise for today. The more fresh air for you, the better, but I think wed better build up to it.
He forgot. She couldnt hear. But she seemed to respond to his intention, because she turned when he did, headed back down the trail. The last dozen yards, her face seemed to lose that wind-brushed color, and her eyes got that glazed, exhausted look again. He wanted to scoop an arm around her, but stopped himself just in time.
At the back door, he mouthed, Nap for you, which provoked an immediate negative response. She shook her head frantically.
No, Maguire. This is all too crazy. I need to know whats going on. Especially since I saw the picture of Tommy-
Yeah, well. He was more than willing to talk with her, but first he had to get things back on the right footing. He got her inside, did the bossy domineering thing, yanking off her boots, settling her on the couch with a pillow and comforter, giving her a pad of paper so she could start working on those lists, then he got out of her way. His excuse for disappearing into the kitchen area was that he was making cocoa.
That turned out to be unnecessary. By the time he returned with a steaming mug of cocoa, brimming with melting marshmallows, shed fallen asleep again.
He felt his stomach declench, his shoulder muscles loosen up. Hed made too much of that look. Everything was fine. She needed to see him as a leader or a benevolent caretaker or someone whod taken control of their situation. Actually, he didnt much care what label she gave him, or what she thought of him-as long as she didnt mistake him as a potential lover.
And obviously that wasnt a problem, if she could nap this easily. Everything was going hunky-dory, nothing to worry about, Maguire was sure.
Chapter Three
Maguire was quite a piece of work, Carolina mused. She needed to understand him, but figuring the man out was no easy task. Some of the puzzle pieces were definitely jagged fits. He was tough. He took charge and wanted everything his own way, and wasnt big on democracy in a household. He spelled high-maintenance guy in any language.
On the surface, he wasnt a man shed normally like, much less be attracted to.
Carolina turned the page on her book. The office/library-no surprise-had whole shelves of books on birth defects related to brain function. Tommy had been one of those. And the room, like everything else in the lodge, was fabulousthree walls of fruit-wood bookshelves, a semicircular desk, little ladders to get to the top of the bookshelves, a couch and chair to sit in-and an old-fashioned fainting couch. The fainting couch was in a thick, suedey kind of fabric, and Carolina had taken one look and claimed it the minute she walked in here.