Haley's eyes fluttered open, glazed and cloudy. "I think," she said on a very shaky breath, scooting back a little, "it would be best if we didn't do that often."

"I was thinking the opposite." Her lips were wet and swollen and he wanted to taste them again.

She straightened and tucked her legs beneath her in a defensive gesture that stopped him from reaching for her. "Things are mixed up enough. Cam. I…" She looked out the window and sighed. "Too mixed up to add this complication."

He wondered if she realized it was the first time she'd used his nickname. "That was some kiss, Haley. You should know. It left me wanting more."

"I can't give you more." Desperation crept into her voice.

He struggled with the patience that usually came so naturally, and didn't find it. "Why? Dammit, why?"

"Because I'm trouble, Cam. With a capital T."


* * *

For two days, Haley cringed at the memory of that day. She'd never forget the almost-comic, stunned surprise on Cam's face as she'd plowed him to the ground. She'd never tackled a boss before. Nor, she thought a little ruefully, had she ever kissed one.

She'd avoided him, but he'd done the same right back, even as he made sure that someone was always near enough that she never felt alone. She knew her lies and innate wariness had gotten to him, but she didn't know what to do. She couldn't tell him the truth-could she?

Sometimes she thought she should; then she remembered how many had died and decided against it.

She stood in the large living room of the ranch house, dusting. She'd discovered the Crock-Pot the day before, and the large recipe book inside it, so dinner should be a snap.

She hoped.

She'd dropped potatoes and carrots into it exactly according to the recipe. Then a large roast. She expected to need a miracle, but to her utter surprise, when she'd checked the pot an hour ago, a delicious aroma had arisen. And it actually looked good, though personally, she'd prefer a greasy burger and fries.

Cameron had left strict instructions. She could cook breakfast and dinner, but everyone had to fix their own lunch. Yet something strange had happened to Haley-something unexpected. She found she enjoyed the kitchen activities so much, she'd actually connived to be in there when everyone wandered in around noon. So it became natural for her to make the sandwiches-which even she could do well.

Haley didn't like to think about how attached to everyone she'd become. Or how much Nellie seemed to enjoy having her. Or how much she enjoyed bantering like old friends with Zach and Jason.

Then there was Cameron.

She'd never danced in the rain before. She'd never shared a laugh over a cow. And she'd certainly never been kissed by a man the way he'd kissed her.

Well aware that such a thing could go nowhere, she couldn't keep her heart from giving a little leap whenever she saw him. For two long nights now, she'd lain awake, torn between fear for her uncertain future, and a longing so fierce she couldn't ease the ache.

She longed-oh, how she longed-yet she couldn't put a name to it. Her life had been pathetically short on romance, and most of that was by choice. Men didn't understand her, and most seemed intimidated by her. It would be laughable if she'd had a friend to laugh with. But she'd been pathetic in that department, too. Maybe because she'd always been around people much older than herself, maybe because while her brain was overly developed, she'd ignored her social skills… She didn't know.

But she'd read plenty, and her deepest, most secret fantasy was to have a romance. A real, true romance, just like in the books she loved. Last night, with nothing to read, she'd actually started a journal. She'd kept a record of her life before, plenty of times. But those had always been careful notes of her studies or projects, never anything personal. This time, and for the first time, she'd outlined her feelings in detail, purposely steering away from anything technical. Just feelings. And she'd been shocked by what she'd discovered.

She was infatuated with her new boss.

Confused and a little frightened by the depth of her unexpected feelings, she put a little too much "oomph" into dusting the top of the mantel, and two picture frames slid down. Reaching for the first one, she slid her rag over the dusty top of it, then went still.

The snapshot showed Cameron, maybe several years ago, dressed in a suit and tie. But the surprising elegance of his dress wasn't what shocked her, or even how good he looked-it was the possessive way his arm was wrapped around a tall, beautiful and very pregnant woman.

"That was my wife," he said quietly, from behind her.

Chapter 5

At Cam's softly spoken words, Haley's rag fell to the floor. Dismay came first, then embarrassment, as she stooped down, but Cam gently took her wrist and pulled her up.

With a small smile that didn't quite mask the sorrow in his eyes, he touched the frame. Running a finger over the dusty edge, he remained silent.

Haley watched as with exaggerated care, he returned the picture to the mantel.

"This was taken a little over five years ago," he finally said. "We met in high school-"

"Don't," Haley said quickly, lifting a hand to stop him. "You don't have to."

"I know. I want to." He stared at the photo. "I've not spoken about it except to my family in all his time…" His gaze met hers then. "But I want you to know."

She knew what he was doing. He was going to open up, share himself, in the hope she'd do the same. But she'd done nothing to deserve him or his friendship-nothing but lie. She couldn't possibly feel worse. "Cam."

Taking the rag from her hands, he ran it over the glass in the frame. "Lorraine was gorgeous, smart. Funny. Everything I could have asked for, except one thing." His eyes pierced hers. "She couldn't he honest to save her life."

Haley's mouth opened. Then closed.

"She lied indiscriminately, about anything. Everything. Where she'd been, what she'd done. Strangely enough, not about other men, but about everything else… I know now she couldn't help it. She was sick. But it drove me crazy." He stared at the picture. "By the time I finished college, we'd been on and off so many times I'd lost count, but I wanted her. No matter how many times she hurt me, I wanted her." He sighed, then slipped his hands into his pockets, and she knew his hands were fisted. "She kept lying, and I kept wanting. We had no business getting married, but I… Well, I was stubborn."

He let out a little laugh. "The way I went through women during our off times before our wedding drove Lorraine mad. She came after me one night, I think to skin my hide, but we ended up taking it out in passion instead."

God, she didn't want to hear this, but she couldn't tear herself away. And the pain and regret on Cam's face squeezed her heart.

"She got pregnant." His melancholy smile disappeared and Haley's stomach tightened.

"I worked as a stockbroker then-fourteen, maybe fifteen hours a day." He broke off at her look of surprise and nodded grimly. "Yeah, believe it or not."

Something ached inside Haley at the look of pure torture on his face. She dreaded whatever was coming next. "Cam-"

"I worked hard and long," he said harshly, ignoring her. "No matter what, regardless of what Lorraine wanted. I don't know why, really. I hated the work, but I was driven. And I hated the lies. Always, more lies. But I wanted that baby." He shook his head. "I was working the night she went into labor, and because she'd been paging me nightly for no particular reason except she was lonely, I didn't call back right away. Didn't want to stop working."

He closed his eyes and Haley reached for him, unable to stop herself from offering comfort she knew wouldn't help. She touched his shoulder and he opened his eyes to look at her, his deep, dark brown eyes shiny and full with emotion.

"She died ten minutes after my son did. I wasn't there."

"Oh, Cam," she said softly, "I'm so sorry." The words were hopelessly inadequate. Awkwardly, because she had never become accustomed to giving any part of herself, she stepped closer. He might resent her sympathy, or reject any offer of comfort, but she found she had to try because watching him suffer hurt. So, for the first time in her life, she reached out to another human being by choice and gave what she had.

He went unhesitatingly into her arms, making her understand how actions could soothe more than words. This was what life was really about, she thought, awed. The intermingling of lives, love… death. Her own life had been so sorely lacking in these experiences, so sheltered, she could only hold him, and hope it was enough.

Silently they stood there, locked together, grieving; him for what had been; her, for what never had been.

Max came upon them that way, and his joy at finding two of the people he cared most about in the entire world proved too much. Yipping and jumping at their feet, he peed everywhere.

Haley leaped back, hopelessly flustered and a little embarrassed. The puppy just sat in the puddle, wagging his tail and panting happily.

Cam gave a hoarse little laugh as he studied the wet dog, who didn't look in the least bit humiliated by his faux pas. "The least you could do is pretend to be humbled." And when, amazingly, the puppy did, bowing his little head, Cam bent to rub his neck, murmuring sympathetically, "I've told you, buddy, you can't show your eagerness so quickly. Make them come to you." Cam obligingly hunkered down when Max rolled over to offer his belly for scratching. Then Cam rose, shaking his head at the puddle. "All right, Max. We've put this off long enough because I understood how you felt about such things, but we can't delay this another minute. Bath time."

Max stood, too, looking unusually alert and wary.

"I'll clean this up," Haley said quickly, needing to escape the unfamiliar closeness. She moved to get a mop.

"Don't, I'll get it." Cam lifted his head from the dog long enough to give her a smile, though sadness lingered in his eyes. His voice sounded husky, intimate. "I don't expect you to clean up this kind of stuff."

At a loss for words, Haley picked up the forgotten rag, then stuffed it awkwardly into her bucket of supplies. Cam was still looking at her in a way that made thinking difficult. She moved toward the door, then stopped. He'd given her something new. Closeness. She felt she had to give something back. "Cam?"

"Yes?" Their eyes met, clung.

She felt something pass between them, some sort of silent awareness. "I'm… in trouble." She braced for the barrage of questions she knew was coming.

But he said nothing; just waited, his expression so open and unexpectedly patient, her eyes suddenly stung. "I am-was-in charge of a team of geologists. And I'm on the run."

"From the co-worker you told me about?"

"Yes."

"Are you safe here?

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

Now her vision wavered behind her unshed tears. She'd lied to him, hurt him, and what he cared about most was her safety. Well, she cared about his, too. "I'm sure."

He didn't move, as if he knew she was on the very edge and would fall apart if he so much as took a step toward her. "How come you're telling me now?"

"You- You're not like anyone I've ever met."

His gaze heated and her body reacted similarly.

"Why, Haley, I do believe that was a compliment."

"It was."

"Thanks for listening to me before," he said softly. "I didn't realize how much I needed to talk."

"I'm glad I was here." But she winced at the breathy sound of her voice. She gripped the doorjamb, feeling as though his gaze pinned her to the spot.

"Maybe I could return the favor," he suggested. "You could tell me more. About you."

"Cam-"

He just shook his head at the warning in her voice. "I'm not trying to push, Haley." Grimacing, he shoved a hand through his hair in an unusual show of frustration and said, "Okay, maybe I am. I want to know more."

And after what she'd just found out about him, she could understand why. She certainly understood his edginess at how she refused to be honest. It hurt him, and made her feel ashamed.

"It's the first time in a long time for me," he said. "I want to know everything."

What was he saying? That despite it all, he was still attracted to her? It was hard to believe that he felt anything more than a passing fancy. Or perhaps she didn't want to believe, because the thought was more than a little terrifying.