In The Arms of a Stranger (3 page)

“Have you heard of Paul Gonzales?”

“Yes.” She noticed a muscle twitched at the side of Luke's jaw. “I don't know much about the case but I know what he did.”

“I think that's who's out there.” Her voice sounded uncertain, even to her own ears. “That's who was shooting at me.”

Luke whirled to face her, his blue eyes narrowed. For a moment she recoiled at the anger reflected there. “Why would you think that?”

Dana hesitated, thrown off guard by the question. Every news station, including her own, had hinted at her involvement in the Gonzalez case. The Atlanta papers had reported the story endlessly, at least until a fresher story had finally stolen the headlines. Maybe her guilt had led her to believe that her connection was more obvious to others than it really was.

Or maybe it was that this north Georgia mountain range was a world unto itself. The borders of North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia came together like the crosshairs of a rifle scope, with Sweetwater situated at the borders of all three. It was as close to no-man's-land as you could get. Was it possible that he really didn't know her tragic connection to Michael Gonzalez?

A sort of freedom presented itself to her. She'd lived with the judgment of others—including herself—for over a year now. But if Luke Sutherlin didn't know…

He doesn't have to know, her mind whispered, that Paul Gonzalez had been ready to relinquish his paternal rights until the story aired. He didn't have to know that because of her a madman had been given the opportunity to kill an innocent child.

Her mistake was her own. All Luke Sutherlin really needed to know was that she was scheduled to testify in the Gonzalez trial. And that Paul Gonzalez wanted to stop her.

“Why?” Luke demanded a second time.

“I'm a key witness in his trial. He's threatened me.” She met Luke Sutherlin's flinty-blue eyes and saw them soften. But would he feel concern if he knew the whole story? “Someone broke into my apartment two days ago. I believe it was Gonzalez.” Her chin began to quiver and chill bumps rippled down her arms, scattering her thoughts. “He wants to scare me, to keep me from testifying.” She forced the words out, wrapping her free hand over her arm to still the trembling.

What was happening to her? It was cold, but she still wore her jacket. Besides, this cold seemed to come from within, emanating outward. She drew in a ragged breath. It was becoming difficult to breathe. Her hands began to tremble and her arms felt weak. Dana clamped her chattering
teeth together and concentrated on her precarious grip on the baby.

“Are you okay?” Luke's voice was deep but soft.

She looked up. “I—I don't know what's happening.” It was becoming more difficult to breathe with each passing second. “I'm cold and it's like I can't…I can't get enough air.”

“Damn.” Luke dropped to his knees in front of her. “How badly were you hurt?” he asked, leaning over the baby as he examined the cut on her forehead a second time. “Were you injured anywhere else?”

Dana shook her head.

“You might be shocky.” He said the words more to himself than her. “Or it could be a panic attack—a delayed reaction.” He shimmied out of his jacket and draped the leather over her knees, partially covering the baby. He grasped her shoulders firmly. “Either way, you need to calm down. Try and relax.” His palms slid to her neck and upward, finally cradling her face. “Look at me, Dana.”

Her eyes met his.

“You're safe.”

She felt tears well up in her eyes and hated herself for the weakness. They spilled as she nodded, trailing over Luke's warm hands.

“I'm not going to let anything happen to you.” He placed one hand against the baby's head, absently caressing the dark peach fuzz that topped it. “Not to either of you.”

Dana tried to answer, but she couldn't seem to take in enough air to form the words.

“You need to slow your breathing,” Luke stated, his eyes never leaving hers. He pulled her free hand to him, spreading her fingers over his chest. “Breathe with me.”

Dana stared at her hand, pale against the black fabric that covered Luke's chest, her fingers resting inches from the
leather holster that crisscrossed it. Slowly she began to match her breathing to the rhythmic rise and fall of Luke's chest. Time passed in a haze, and every breath she took with Luke loosened the smothering tightness in her chest. Soon Dana was more aware of the subtle play of muscle beneath fabric than the rise and fall of his chest.

The baby squirmed in her lap and Dana blinked, her gaze rising to Luke's face. Loose waves of dark-brown hair just brushed the neck of his T-shirt. The fabric expanded to cover broad shoulders. He was a giant of a man, yet there was a gentleness about his face, more specifically his eyes. Set above high cheekbones, his eyes were startlingly blue against his dark complexion. Eyes that watched her intently, missing nothing.

Dana was surprised to find that a surreal warmth had filled her, calmed her when she wasn't even aware of it. But to her amazement, that wasn't all. She'd hardly been aware of herself as a woman during the past year and a half. But emotions she'd thought long dead now warmed her body in places she'd learned to ignore. Luke's gaze flickered to her mouth, and Dana jerked her hand away as though she'd been burned.

“Is anyone expecting you?” Luke's deep voice cut through the silence that followed.

Was anyone expecting her? She desperately wanted to say yes, but couldn't think of a soul who'd look for her. Her aunt and uncle had raised her since the age of five, after her parents died in an auto accident. Dana checked in with them once a week. But if she didn't, would they call her? An old pain threatened to resurface, and she suddenly knew why she phoned them so regularly. The answer was no.

Her chest constricted again, but this time Dana reached for Luke, her hand seeking his chest like a lifeline. He placed his hand over hers, warm and reassuring.

“No, Dana,” he crooned, his deep voice hypnotic. “Don't let it happen again. Breathe.”

Her eyes were glued to his chest, but her thoughts were frantically searching for a positive answer to his question. The list of people close to her was short and getting shorter. Her ex-husband? She shook her head, forcing down a hysterical sob. No, Robert was busy tending to his new wife and newborn son. His
biological
son, she mentally added. A child that even the most advanced fertility treatments hadn't allowed her to bear.

Perhaps that was the reason she was so out of control, she reasoned. She'd continued to try to become pregnant, even after the divorce, for the last year and a half. Her doctor had pumped enough hormones into her system to give her normally laid-back personality a jolt of hysteria. Not that the effort had done any good.

And now that door had permanently closed.

I'm afraid we've reached an impasse, Dana.
Her doctor had delivered the news as gently as possible.
There's nothing more we can do.

She'd received the call from her doctor just moments before she was to go on-air today. The proverbial straw that had broken the camel's back.

There hadn't been time to confide the news to anyone, but she could predict the reaction of friends and family. It's for the best, they'd say. After all, she was a single woman in the public eye. If viewers reacted negatively to a pregnancy, it could mean the end of her career.

But what did she care?

People looked at her carefully arranged appearance, her high-profile career, and thought she'd achieved her dream. It made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. What she wanted was to spend sleepless nights holding an infant against her breast, make mud pies with a toddler, and teach
a first-grader how to turn a wad of gum into a shiny pink bubble.

At one time the dream had included a loving husband, but not anymore.

“Dana?”

Dana looked up, knowing his watchful eyes had seen the play of emotion on her face. She dropped her hand, forcing her breathing to steady on its on. This was her life, the hand she'd been dealt. She called on the stubborn pride that had seen her through more than one lonely crisis, including her childhood.

Dana lifted her chin slightly. “No. No one is expecting me.”

L
uke nodded, trying not to be distracted by the sudden moisture in her eyes. In his experience in law enforcement, emotion that intense could be traced to one of two things. Either the suspect had just bared their soul or they were desperately lying. The thought struck him as odd. He had no logical reason to think Dana Langston would lie.

He flexed his free hand, wishing for the familiar feel of the radio, for the chance to call for backup. And to check her story, he admitted. He lifted the cell phone from the floor where it lay among the spilled contents of the diaper bag and optimistically pressed the power button. The phone came to life, its face illuminating in the dim lighting of the storage room. Luke cast a questioning glance at Dana.

“I couldn't get through earlier when I tried. Maybe the mountains, maybe the storm…”

Luke punched in the number for the police station and hit the send button. Nothing happened for a few seconds
and then the familiar no-connection tone sounded. “Still nothing,” he announced.

His shoulder muscles tensed beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, reacting to the cold in a painful spasm. There was nothing more bone-chilling than an empty house, no matter what shelter it offered. Luke looked at Dana and the baby. Dana's jeans were encrusted in mud and melting snow, as his were. And the baby just looked vulnerable as hell. Without a means to call for help, they were stuck for the night. He had no intention of spending it shivering in a supply closet.

“Do you know how to use a gun?”

Dana's eyes widened in response to his question. “I—I did a segment once on personal protection. The instructor at the range showed me how to shoot the targets.” She shook her head and Luke noticed she was making an effort to breathe slowly. “It was just for the camera.”

Luke grinned. “How'd you do?”

The corners of her mouth twitched slightly. “Pretty good for a city girl.”

My God, she almost smiled. Luke had a feeling that didn't happen often, even under better circumstances. “Good.” Luke noticed that Dana held the baby in the crook of her left arm, propping the bottle with the same hand, which left her right hand free. He laid the gun on the floor and gently slid it toward her. “I'm going to leave this with you while I—”

“No.” She shook her head. “Please don't. Don't leave me.”

“Shh…” Luke placed his hand on her knee, absently caressing her leg beneath his discarded jacket while he spoke. “The temperature is dropping, and we're stuck here for the night. We're going to need a way to stay warm. The good news is, the porch light was on, so I know there's an
electrical feed.” He gestured behind her at a dusty space heater. “I just need to find the fuse box and switch the circuit breaker. If that doesn't work, I've got to see if there's any firewood.”

“No—you can't build a fire. He'll see the smoke. He'll know where we are.”

“He already knows where we are, Dana.”

She went perfectly still, but her eyes registered fear so deep that Luke regretted the words. “Look, whoever is out there can't stay out there in this storm for long. He'll freeze to death before he gets another chance at us. We're safe here.”

Dana looked around her, as if considering where she was for the first time. “What is this place?”

“An old forest ranger's station. They gave me a key a couple of years back when they built a new observation tower. It's no longer used.” He smiled, for some reason determined to see the worry lines disappear from her face. “At least not normally.”

“How far are we from town?”

Luke shook his head. “Too far to walk, which is the only option right now.”

“Your car…”

“Is in a ditch up the road.” He experimented with another smile. “Lucky for you.”

She returned the smile, then her face went serious. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Right place at the right time. What are you doing on the mountain, anyway?”

She looked uncertain. “Vacationing.”

Luke nodded, though suspicion hit him like a fist. “Take the gun and level it at the doorway.”

Dana pulled the baby more tightly against her chest. “I can't.”

Luke looked down at the infant's face. He'd fallen asleep, oblivious to the danger around him, the bottle nipple now slack against his lips.

“Yes, you can.” Luke nodded toward the baby. “Besides, I left my four-legged partner out in the cold. I need to check on him, at least.”

Dana crooned softly as she eased the bottle from the baby's mouth. Her expression was hopeful when she looked up. “A police dog?”

“No, an ornery old Lab. But he's as big as a pony and barks like he means business. Besides, he likes kids and beautiful women.”

Where had that comment come from? He'd intended to lighten the mood, to see her relax, but he'd caught himself off guard instead. The wary expression on Dana's face told him he wasn't the only one who wished he'd kept the comment to himself.

Luke retrieved the coiled hose from the supply room floor and molded it into an oval shape. “Here. Use my jacket and lay him inside.”

Dana pulled the supple leather jacket from her knees and folded the baby inside. He barely stirred when she laid him inside the makeshift cradle, only nuzzled contentedly against the lining of Luke's jacket.

Dana lifted the gun but looked at it as if it were a snake. “I don't think I can do this.”

“You have to.” He took her by the upper arm and turned her toward the baby. “Unless you want to freeze to death and leave this little guy alone.”

Anger and determination flashed on her face as she pulled her arm free. “Okay.”

Just the reaction he'd been hoping for. “I'll leave the flashlight with you. I have a lighter.” Luke stood when she
nodded. “Keep the gun focused on the door. I'll try and alert you when I—”

“Just say my name.” She interrupted. “I'll know your voice.”

Luke nodded and disappeared through the doorway, leaving Dana alone. What she'd said was true. She could pick that deep, captivating voice out of a crowded room. Maybe it was the tense circumstances, but that voice had the power to soothe her, to irritate her and, if she were honest with herself, make her want to crawl into the shelter of his arms.

Power. The word stuck in her brain as she rested her wrist on her knee and, with a trembling hand, pointed the gun toward the empty door frame. Hadn't she learned a thing or two in the last year and a half about giving up her power? But this was hardly the same as her marriage to Robert. Luke had just given her the power of his weapon and, with barely a word of instruction, trusted her not to blast him to kingdom come with it.

Time passed. Five minutes. Ten?

“Dana…”

The sound of Luke's voice made her jump. She hadn't heard him enter the cabin. “Yes,” she responded, lowering the gun.

“It's us.”

Us? This time she heard a shuffle, heard the gentle sound of the cabin's door closing and the unmistakable click-click of canine paws against the wooden floor. Big brown eyes suddenly peered around the doorway, framed by a golden muzzle and inquisitive eyebrows. Dana laid the gun on the floor and fought the overwhelming urge to cry. There was something so entirely welcoming about the presence of the dog. Something so
normal
that she wanted to fling her arms around his big neck and squeal with delight like a child.

Luke appeared, resting his hand against the dog's head in an easy gesture. “Sam, this is Dana. Dana, this is Sam.”

“Hi, Sam,” she whispered, her voice betraying the emotion.

When she looked up, she found Luke watching her again. Assessing her. The expression on his face was neutral, but his eyes said something else. He looked at her as if she were a puzzle with half its pieces missing. She thought of the broken mess her once-orderly life had become, and shivered. Maybe he was right.

“Good news.” He stepped inside the supply room and pulled the chain on an overhead fixture. The single lightbulb came to life, its glow barely brighter than the flashlight.

With the light, Dana could see that snow dusted his shoulders, darkening his black shirt as it melted. He'd sacrificed his jacket for the baby's sake.

He reached around Dana and retrieved the space heater. “I'll be right back. Sam—” he looked behind him at the dog, then gestured toward Dana “—stay here.”

Sam walked over to Dana and plopped down next to her feet. She eased her fingers into his thick fur and was rewarded with a friendly lick. This time she didn't ask where Luke was going but trusted that he wouldn't go far. Trust. The emotion surprised her.

She heard Luke move to a nearby part of the cabin, could make out the sound of something heavy being moved, the soft shuffle of his feet. In a moment he returned, filling the doorway with his silhouette. Dana noticed that he'd changed shirts. He'd put on a white thermal shirt, the sleeves of which were drawn tightly around his arms. He walked into the supply room and knelt down beside her. For a moment she thought he was going to lift her in his arms, but he reached for the flashlight instead.

“Come with me. Bring the baby.” He stood, gently slapping the side of his leg. “Sam.”

She lifted the baby and drew him into her arms. His warm, trusting little body fitted perfectly against her shoulder. How many times had she dreamed of holding a child of her own like this? Dana closed her eyes against the threat of tears.

“Ready?”

The expression on Luke's face told her that he hadn't missed the moment of weakness. Dana stood, her legs shakier than she'd expected. It was then she noticed Luke held out his hand. She stared at it. His hand was so large that hers would disappear inside it. Her gaze slid to Luke's. Why was she afraid to make the simple contact?

A frown marred his forehead. “Dana?”

She stepped forward and slid her hand into his. The contact should have been simple, but it wasn't. Luke took her hand inside his, his thumb caressing her knuckles for a moment before he abruptly stopped. It was too late. The gesture had already caused her breath to catch in her chest.

“Ready.” She forced the word out, trying to deny the awkwardness that had filled the room.

He turned away, still clutching her hand in his, and slowly drew her from the supply room. Dana followed, steadying the baby against her shoulder with her free hand. Luke kept the beam of light trained on the floor and led her down the short hallway to an adjoining room. The hum of the space heater filled the room, though its heat had yet to make progress against the cold.

As her eyes adjusted to the near darkness, Dana realized the room was a small bedroom. Though she could see the faint outline of a window against the far wall, Luke had apparently pulled a dresser in front of it, its attached mirror blocking the expanse of glass.

“This will conceal us well enough, but I don't want to risk the lights.”

He drew her forward a few steps and Dana realized he was leading her to the bed. Despite the circumstances, the intimacy of the bed made her pause. Luke must have felt her tense, because he dropped her hand.

“Settle the baby in the bed.”

He didn't whisper, but his voice was lower, softer than it had been in the supply room. The realization that he was more alert to danger here caused a fresh chill of fear.

“You need to get out of those wet jeans and boots. I found a pair of sweatpants and some socks.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Changing out of her clothes somehow meant the situation was real. They wouldn't be rescued in a few minutes. No wailing sirens outside. Only the howl of the blizzard as it finished the job it had started. And it meant something else. They were in this together. Things were going to get pretty personal pretty fast. Starting with the fact that she was about to undress in the same room with a stranger.

He gestured toward the bed, where the clothing lay. “It's not much but at least the clothes are dry.”

She nodded, then gently laid the baby in the center of the double bed. He was still wrapped snugly in Luke's jacket, and the selfless gesture again triggered something inside her. She'd learned from Robert the hard way that some men lacked paternal instinct. Or at least, in her ex-husband's case, paternal feelings for a child that wasn't his biological child.

Dana eased the jacket from around the baby, then substituted the bed's thick blanket. She extended the jacket to Luke. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She felt him tense beside her in the darkness. Had she said something wrong? Perhaps it was because she'd
thanked him, because that right belonged exclusively to the child's mother. And the child's mother was dead. Whatever the reason, he silently accepted the jacket and slid it on.

Luke commanded Sam to lie down at the foot of the bed, then walked to the window, peering through a small crack between the dresser's mirror and the window frame. There was moonlight despite the storm, and the ghostly white light was bright enough to cast dancing shadows in the room. As her eyes adjusted, Dana could see that Luke held the gun in position as he scanned the outside perimeter of the cabin.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Nothing.” His voice was soothing, deep and hypnotic against the steady hum of the space heater. “Everything's fine.” He kept his back to her. “You need to change.”

She realized that he was offering her a measure of privacy. To turn down either the dry clothing or the privacy would be foolish. Her toes were numb, and her jeans were heavy with moisture. The idea of a soft pair of fleece pants and dry socks sounded like heaven.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off the department-store boots she'd once thought perfect for the trip. Instead of protecting her feet, the porous suede had soaked up moisture like a sponge, including the whiskey from the bottle that had burst at her feet. Dana stood, unzipping her jeans before she lost her resolve.