Runaway Groom (2 page)

The thought of a sweet ride on a chopper silenced all his concerns about spending time in the wedding town. He shot out his hand. “It’s a deal.”

* * *

Amy eased the car down the long, overgrown driveway, with her heart sinking fast. If the cabin was in the same state as the driveway, she knew it would be a dump. God, she hoped there weren’t spiders. Or mice. She shivered at the thought and gripped the steering wheel harder. Ella had said there were clean sheets and towels and at this point of her day and her life that was all she cared about. She needed a shower to wash away the filth of the day—well, physically anyway. Nothing could wash away the poison of Jonathon’s words.

You know more about the law
,
Amy
,
than you do about sex.

How had she been so stupid? How had she managed to lose everything she’d worked so hard for so quickly? She didn’t know who she hated more right now—Jonathon or herself for being so blind.

She peered into the darkness and a small building came into view so she pulled off the driveway and parked behind some trees. Grabbing her flashlight, she opened the car door and looked for a path. There wasn’t one. As she approached the log cabin she thought it odd that there were no windows on the back wall, especially as there wasn’t a chimney either. She walked around the rectangular building, looking for the door. She stopped short as the yellow beam of her flashlight bounced off a padlock.

Oh, God, it was worse than she thought. This wasn’t even a cabin. It was some sort of shed. It probably reeked of fishing bait or Jet Ski oil. She pressed her forehead against the metal doors and tried not to cry. She didn’t have the heart to open it and face the contents.

Go back to town.

The thought tempted her so much she could feel herself giving in to it. Ella had a lovely house with a hot shower and she could stay the night and rethink her plan tomorrow.

Ella will ask questions
.

Suddenly the idea of sleeping with the scent of engine oil and fish didn’t seem quite so bad. She fingered the bunch of keys in her hand and wondered what they were all for. She couldn’t imagine what could possibly be inside a one-room shed that would need so many keys.

As she tramped back to the car to grab her bag, she noticed what looked like a path off to her left. It probably led to the lake. Despite the fact there was only a half-moon and she wouldn’t be able to see much, she had an overwhelming need to see the water. Moving her flashlight back and forth in a wide arc, she walked slowly with her gaze on her feet so she didn’t trip over. At the end of a grove of pine trees, the path suddenly opened up into a large clearing.

Bright lights came on and she stared, blinking, as she heard her stunned gasp echoing back to her on the night air. There was no lake. Instead, towering above her was the biggest house she’d ever seen. Scarcely able to believe its existence, she quickly crossed the driveway and walked straight to a wide wooden door that was housed under a portico.

She frantically tried almost every key in the bunch until the sixth one yielded her entry. She quickly passed through a vestibule and then she was standing inside a massive room that had to be more than thirty feet high. She supposed that, as there were exposed log beam walls, this was technically a log cabin. Everything else about it screamed
mansion.

On one side of the great room was a floor-to-ceiling river-rock fireplace, the size of which put a Tudor castle’s to shame. On the other side was an enormous glass prow wall, the height of the house, and she’d stake her life it gave uncompromising views over the lake. She tried not to meet the glass eyes of the deer head that had pride of place on another wall along with other trophies of large fish. After all, this was the northwoods and people took their hunting and fishing seriously.

As she moved through the house, the lights came on automatically and she ran up the wide staircase to a catwalk and still the huge ceiling beams were way above her. Deliberating for a moment whether to go left or right, she chose left. She discovered bedroom after bedroom until she got to the end of a wing and found herself in the master bedroom. The king-size bed barely made a dent in the enormous room and she leaped on it.

Oh
,
my God.
Sheer comfort enveloped her as she sank into pillow softness and let out a squeal of pure delight. A moment later, excitement had her back up on her feet and she found a panel that controlled the lights in sectors around the house. The question,
Honey
,
did you turn off the kitchen lights before coming upstairs?
never needed to be asked in the Rasmussens’ house. She bypassed the walk-in closet and went directly to the master bathroom. Like the rest of the house it was decorated in elegant and expensive rustic chic complete with a jetted tub and fluffy towels. She might never leave.

Praying that the hot water hadn’t been turned off, she turned on the faucets, filling the tub. Cold water ran for thirty seconds and then hot kicked in.
Yes.
Finally, after having the crappiest day of her life, something was going right. She rifled through a vanity drawer and found a bottle of mango body gel and squirted it in. The tropical scent rose on the steam and she stripped off her soiled clothes and stepped in.

As the water covered her body she leaned back, closed her eyes and sighed. She’d just found the perfect haven to stay while she worked out exactly what she was going to do with the rest of her life.

Chapter Two

Amy didn’t realize her eyes had fluttered closed until they jerked open in fright. The loud and throaty sound of an engine reverberated around her, sending fear skimming along her veins. She sat up fast, her hands gripping the edge of the bath so hard it hurt. The house was well set back from the main road so traffic noise wouldn’t penetrate, which meant this engine noise was coming from just outside.

It died away and a moment later she relaxed. It must have belonged to a passing boat of enthusiastic fishermen or maybe a local. She remembered there were some people who lived on the lake who used boats to get to and from the town because in the summer months it was quicker than the road. Who knew, maybe they used their boats three seasons out of four and not just during the summer.

While she’d dozed, the water in the bath had cooled and the lights in the bathroom had automatically switched off. She stood up, stepped out of the bath and picked up the gloriously soft and enormous bath sheet. As she rubbed herself dry, she heard a squeaking sound. She immediately paused, listening for it again but when she didn’t hear it, she figured it must have been the floorboards creaking under her feet.

It’s just new house jitters.
You’ll get used to the sounds.
She forced herself to go back to her drying and was just about to pop the edge of the towel between her toes when the bang of a door made her jump.

Her heart leaped in her chest.
Oh
,
God.
Someone was in the house.

Sometimes in the off-season
,
we get break-ins.

Ella’s words amplified her fears and she realized the throaty engine noise she’d heard hadn’t been a boat at all. It was a motorcycle.

A
gang?

Don’t be ridiculous.
It was one engine
.

Every stereotype ever created about bikers filled her with panic.

It might be a woman.

And pigs might fly.

With an engine that loud and thundering, it had to be ridden by a man who had a serious ego and put himself above the law. That could be the only reason why he hadn’t ridden away the moment the outside security lighting had come on. Why he hadn’t been deterred by the sight of her car.

She shoved her fist into her mouth to stifle a scream. He wouldn’t have seen her car. She’d parked it well off the driveway and it was hidden behind trees. The biker wouldn’t know she was in the house. The news was full of the unpredictable things thieves did when they were unexpectedly confronted. Her breaths came in short, choppy rifts. She was alone in a huge house with a probable violent intruder and no neighbors close enough to hear her scream. Why had she been so against the idea of carrying a small gun in her purse?

Think
,
Amy
,
think.

Tying the large bath sheet firmly under her arms, she reentered the bedroom. The low glow of the bedside lamps came on instantly and she threw herself at the switch, turning them off. Acid surged into the back of her throat. There was no way she could move in this house without activating the lights and drawing attention to her presence.

Her body took another jolt of fear-induced adrenaline but instead of paralyzing her, it activated her brain.

The control panel.

She turned on the long-handled flashlight Mrs. Norell had given her and pointed it at the panel, praying there’d be an obvious master switch to turn off the lights and keep them off. She didn’t want to press random buttons and risk turning on every light in the house. Biting her lip hard, she pressed the switch that read, Good-night. Then she tried to get the lamps to turn on. Nothing happened.

Yes!

She swallowed in relief but it was short-lived. No lights didn’t change the fact there was someone downstairs. If she had anything to do with it, she would find him first and not the other way around. Very carefully, she eased her way out of the room and made her way very quietly along the hallway until she stood in the shadows of the catwalk.

Heavy footsteps sounded loud and ominous and then the loud scrape of wood against wood floated up to her, followed by a thud.

“Shit.”

The male voice confirmed her suspicions but the way he’d said the curse was odd. It sounded sort of flat and elongated.

She crept forward and saw a small spill of light. He was holding his phone and it silhouetted him as he bent over rubbing his shin. He straightened up.

Her mouth dried. She was five feet ten inches tall in flat feet but this guy was taller. Exactly how much more was hard to tell because he was wearing a motorcycle helmet, but she guessed he was well over six feet. But it wasn’t his height that was intimidating, it was his breadth. The square tilt of his shoulders and the way they filled his leather jacket said he could squish her like a bug if he chose.

Not if I get to you first
,
buddy.

Her hand tightened on the flashlight. If she could somehow get downstairs without him knowing she was there then maybe she could sneak up on him and...

What?
What?
Years of arguing for a living and reading dry contracts had hardly prepared her for a stakeout and a raid.

As he turned around and started walking very carefully and slowly back across the great room, she thought she heard him mumble, “Bloody lights” but perhaps she’d been watching too much British television on late-night cable. Why would he want to turn on the lights if he was going to burglarize? He was either not very bright or very certain the house was isolated enough for no one to notice. The fact he didn’t have a flashlight indicated the former.

He disappeared through a doorway that Amy hadn’t explored and she took her chance. Holding her towel tightly against her chest, she pressed her body against the banister and walked slowly down the stairs.

Don’t come back
,
don’t come back
,
don’t come back
, she silently chanted as she felt her feet touch each step. She finally reached the bottom and left the safety of the banister, walking carefully toward the doorway he’d exited through. If or when he returned, she’d be there ready to hit him with her flashlight.

She was halfway across the great room when the enormous antler chandelier above her head lit up.

Terror froze her to the spot. He must have found another control panel and any minute he was going to reappear and find her. Frantically she gazed around, taking in the entire open space and running through her limited options. Hiding behind one of the four-seater leather sofas would put her at risk of being found crouching down and vulnerable. Unless she could jump up and surprise him.

Wearing a towel?

Okay
,
bad idea.
Oh, why hadn’t she thought to put her clothes on?

Just move!
Like a sprinter hearing the starter’s gun, she raced to the doorway and flattened herself up against the wall. Sucking in her breath as if that would make her even less noticeable, she raised the flashlight high above her head.

Come on
,
come on.

Seconds ticked by, followed by a full minute and then another. The muscles of her upper arms burned. Why had she spent so much time in the office instead of lifting weights and working out at the gym?

Because your job was your life.

And hadn’t all of that worked out just dandy. Now she was out of her job, she had jelly arms and a widening butt, and she was trying to stave off an attacker. The burn moved, spreading across her shoulders and down along her arms. Pins and needles tingled in her fingers and the bath sheet felt loose over her breasts.

Come on.
Where the hell was he?

The faint sound of boots against the polished maple floorboards increased in volume. She tried to tighten her grip on the flashlight but the numbness in her hands made it impossible to feel anything.

The door opened.

Now!

He moved past her into the room and she swung the flashlight toward the back of his now-uncovered head, planning to knock him out cold. With her screaming arm muscles and numb hands, she misjudged the distance and clipped him hard on the shoulder.

“Jesus.” He spun around fast, his left arm reaching for his right shoulder. “What the hell?”

He was so close she could see the shock in the depths of his wide, emerald-green eyes. She saw the exact moment his survival instincts kicked in.

He lunged. His left arm shot out, grabbing for her. She dodged, avoiding his grasp but his hand caught the edge of the towel. As it tumbled down her body, she brought her knee up hard into his groin.

With a sucking gasp, he staggered backward before slumping over. Taking advantage of his exposed position, she threw herself at his right shoulder, knocking him to the floor. The momentum took her flying over his head and she heard him grunt in pain.
Good.
Half a second later, her hip hit the floorboards with a bone-chipping thud.

“Argh.” She groaned as she lay sprawled chest-down with no air in her lungs. Agony ripped through her and silver stars danced in her head.

His hand locked around her ankle, his fingers digging into the small triangular space. “Are...you...done?” he asked, panting.

No way.
She kicked out and connected with something hard that she hoped was his head.

“Fuck.” The word held every level of pain and his grip tightened.

If she had any time to think, she’d swear he had an accent.

“Listen, lady, I don’t know who you are or what your problem is, but you need to stop. Right now.”

He sounded utterly pissed but she didn’t care. If she could have moved, she’d have scrambled around and pummeled him with her fists. “Why, so you can hurt me instead?”

“No.” This time he sounded insulted.

“I don’t believe you.” God, she wished she could reach her towel. Right now he had a perfect view of her naked butt.

He breathed out a long, pained sigh. “Don’t you think that if I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by now instead of lying here on the floor?”

His logic managed to sink into her fear. He had a point.

“So why haven’t you?”

“A, I don’t beat up women. B, I’ve seen you naked and you’re not my type.”

“Thank God for that,” she said, hating that despite the fact this stranger’s words should be reassuring her, they only made Jonathon’s vicious parting words this morning—
I
lowered my standards dating you
—boom in her head.

He grunted. “And C, you dislocated my shoulder.”

She dug deep to banish the insecure little girl with red hair and freckles and tried to find her inner toughness. “If that were true, you’d be writhing in pain.”

“Believe me,” he ground out, “if I thought it was safe to let go of you, I would. But given your actions so far, you’d just kick me in the ribs.”

Was it possible that she’d really injured him? Trying to move so she could see him and yet at the same time not expose her breasts, she craned her neck.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and he looked extremely pale.

Jonathon suckered you.
This guy will too.
She pulled hard against his manacle grip but it only tightened. She could feel his nails pinching her skin and imagined the half-moon marks.

“We can stay here all night if you want,” he said, jerkily. “I’m not the one who’s going to get cold.”

With its towering ceiling, there was scant heat on the floor of the great room and just thinking about it made her shiver. “If you were a gentleman, you’d let me get my towel to cover myself up.”

He made a strangled sound in his throat. “If you were a lady instead of an armed assassin, I’d consider it.”

Armed assassin?
“My only weapon was the flashlight and as you can see I don’t have it anymore. I’m hardly dressed to hide a weapon.”

He was silent for a moment except for jerkily expelled breaths that said all movement was excruciating. “If I’d known you were in the house...” he dragged in a breath, “...I would have knocked.”

Her teeth started chattering. “And what, then gone on to rob another house?”

He released her ankle. “Bloody hell, woman, I have a key.”

Taking her chance, she pushed to her feet. Keeping low, she scampered behind the furniture until she reached her towel, all the time listening for sounds that told her he’d risen to his feet to chase her.

The only sounds she heard were muffled groans.

She quickly wrapped the bath sheet around her and picked up the flashlight for protection before rechecking his position. He hadn’t moved off the floor and his right shoulder was definitely sagging, but he held up his left arm. Dangling from his ring finger was a set of keys complete with a moose key ring. An identical key ring to hers.

The contents of her stomach turned to stone. Oh, God, he’d been telling the truth.

“You’re not a burglar, are you?”

He grimaced and his square jaw tensed with pain. “And she finally gets it.”

Now she no longer feared for her life, she took a moment to really look at him. He was dressed top to toe in black bike leathers but he didn’t look scary or terrifying. Sure, his tousled, sandy-brown, sun-kissed hair needed a cut and his jaw sported a three-day growth but instead of that making him look like a thug, it gave him a rakish look. In fact, the lines around his mouth indicated that when he wasn’t rendered incapacitated, he probably smiled widely and often.

She bit her lip at the horrible thought she may have attacked a member of the Rasmussen family and her minutes in this lovely house were numbered. “Who are you and where are you from?”

His jaw tightened, giving him an intransigent look. “Do you think we could do the pleasantries
after
you’ve put my shoulder back into its socket?”

She stared at him, not having anticipated the request and feeling completely out of her depth. What if she did him even more damage? “Shouldn’t you go to the emergency room?”