I'll Be There Part 13

Those men had refused to talk to her, too. She began spinning scenarios in her mind. It was a means of amusing herself and ignoring the pitiful state of what had become her life. She'd come up with a theory on who he was, where he'd come from, and why he'd shut himself off from the world. Why his eyes were shuttered, empty and cold. Lifeless. Yes, better to focus on these things instead of his body, which was incredible, and his lips, which looked soft and warm...

Shaking her head, she emerged from the bathroom. "Is supper ready?"

Cord sat on the sofa, but stood to face her. "You've certainly made a rapid recovery. This morning, I thought..."

"What?"

"Never mind. I'll get you some soup."

He walked over to the kitchen, and Jenny noticed he wasn't wearing shoes as she followed. Was there anything s.e.xier than a gorgeous, barefoot man in the kitchen cooking?

Focus on solving the mystery, Jenny. "It was probably just a virus."

Cord ladled soup into deep bowls, then piled rolls and cornbread onto a plate. "Where would you catch a virus?"

"Who knows? Maybe I got it from one of the marshals."

Cord sat and Jenny wasted no time on the food. She spooned some into her mouth. Chicken in a pale broth with chunky vegetables. "This is delicious. But I suppose you'd have to become a good cook to survive the way you do all alone out in the middle of nowhere." Speaking of... "So, tell me. What drives a man to build a cabin on a remote mountain?"

She got a look and a terse command to "Just eat."

"Is it that you're not much on talking or that you just aren't used to the sound of another's person's voice?"

The look again.

Not deterred, Jenny asked, "How long have you been up there anyway?"

"You don't need to know anything about me."

"It looks like we're going to be stuck here for awhile. I thought it might be nice if we could at least carry on a civil conversation."

"There's a difference between having a conversation and you trying to get me to divulge personal information, which by the way, is off limits."

"That's a pretty good vocabulary you have. Not many people from the mountains around here talk like that."

"Think what you will."

"I usually do." She took a breath. He definitely knew how to push her b.u.t.tons. Sure it was a tactical move to get her angry so she wouldn't want to talk to him, but she was determined to not let him get to her. "I'm sure we have things in common."

"What would make you think that?"

"You saved my life-there's that."

"You don't owe me anything."

Jenny laughed. "And that's actually a good thing, because I couldn't give you anything even if I wanted to. I've got nothing. No money, no job, no life."

She watched him carefully. As a reporter, she'd been trained to notice even the most subtle changes in demeanor. Her statement seemed to make him a little uncomfortable. "You know, these past months, I've been in the company of more law enforcement officers that I can recount. They don't talk either."

"So?"

"So, if you don't want to answer questions about yourself, I'll have to just draw my own conclusions. Since you're a lot like them, I'm figuring you used to be one."

He pushed the bread plate toward her. "More bread?"

He was even more on guard after that statement. She'd likely hit the mark. "No, thanks. It's delicious, but I'm full." Still, she kept spooning the broth out of her soup and sipping it.

He finished his soup and went for another bowl. "There's a long history of Cherokee in this area. Are you descended from them?"

"No."

A response! Encouraged, she said, "But you are Native American, right?"

He sat and concentrated on his soup.

"Did you grow up in Cherokee, North Carolina?" she asked, before lifting the spoon to her mouth.

"Again with the two questions at once. I guess you still don't like me."

She smiled. He remembered, but didn't answer her question.

After a few moments pa.s.sed, he looked up and said, "I'm here to make sure that you're safe until you're moved to another temporary location or testify, whichever comes first. Until then-"

"Until then, we're going to be alone together for awhile with nothing to do but talk." Big mistake. As soon as she said it, she immediately thought of several things they could do without talking.

"I'll find a way to keep out of your way. You can do the same-"

"It's a small house."

"It's best if we don't form any sort of attachment that will inevitably be broken."

Jenny held up a hand. "Just to clarify, do you think that I may form an attachment to you, or that you may form an attachment to me?"

"Does it matter?"

"h.e.l.l, yes it matters. Are you going to sit there and tell me that you think simply having a conversation is enough for two people to form an attachment to one another?" She smiled and added, "I do think you overestimate your charm, sir."

He threw her off-balance by smiling as well. "That's not what you were saying last night."

Trying to seem unaffected, she threw back, "A gentleman would never hold what a woman says in the throes of a fever against her."

He leaned closer and said softly, "Who said I was a gentleman?"

Jenny leaned back and blinked to clear the fog. Wait. Was he..."Are you teasing me?" She almost couldn't get the word out, the possibility seemed so implausible.

"About what you said and did when you were delirious? No, I'm not kidding. You were quite..." he rubbed his chin, searching for the right word, "uninhibited, not to mention demanding."

"Okay, stop. That may work with some of the less gullible women you've had to deal with, but I didn't just roll into town. You're trying to distract me from following my line of questioning about your background."

He looked up from his soup, but didn't comment. Just went back to eating. She smiled to herself. A worthy adversary. Excellent. Let the games begin.

"Back to your supposition. You think the Stockholm principle applies here, but I'm not your captive."

"Of course you are. You're here against your will."

"That aside, there's no way I would fall for you. On the other hand, I happen to know that men find me irresistible." She wasn't above a little teasing herself.

He looked back at her, surprised, and possibly amused, when she made that p.r.o.nouncement.

"I noticed you checking out my legs, Mr. Goins." She sighed, turned in her chair and crossed her legs, then crossed her arms and took a drink of her ginger ale. "Yeah, it's a nuisance, guys falling at my feet. I can't tell you how many shoes I've wrecked. So, no worries. I'm used to it." She set her gla.s.s back on the table. "If you're not Cherokee, what tribe then?"

He gave her another of his looks, stood and took his dish to the sink.

"Why don't I just spin a theory? I'd say one parent wasn't from around here, your mom, and she was the one with Native American heritage. Or maybe you get your coloring from your father. He would have been from East Tennessee, but not from Angel Ridge. *Goins' is a Melungeon name. There were a few colonies of them just east of here." She propped a foot on her chair and trailed a hand down her leg, still not looking at him. "Of course, Melungeons were often mistaken for Native Americans because of the similarities in coloring. However, researchers have found they were actually of Portuguese descent."

"Fascinating."

"Yes, but of course you'd know all that. Would you care to confirm or deny?"

"No."

"Predictable." She followed him to the sink with her dishes. "So, if you live alone on an uninhabited area of a mountain, that brings me back to why?"

He took her dishes. "I'll do these. You should rest."

"Never let it be said that I'd refuse a man who cooks and does the dishes." But rather than go lie down, Jenny leaned against the counter and watched Cord. Time to cut the c.r.a.p and throw a dagger of truth just to see how it landed.

"You know, I don't remember much about last night, but I do know that every time I woke, you were there. And you were there because you were genuinely concerned. So, you can play this *I hate people' bit if you want, but I'm not buying it."

Cord shrugged. "Suit yourself." If he'd known the woman was as tenacious as a pit bull when he'd found her...

"You've really perfected this bad boy act."

He trapped Jenny against the counter with a hand at either side of her. He wasn't above using his size to intimidate. "Who says it's an act? You don't know anything about me."

Chapter 11.

She pushed away from the counter, not backing down, and put her body wickedly close to his. "I know enough."

"How?"

"Intuition."

"Where was that intuition when you got mixed up in all this?"

"Spot on. It led me right to the bad guys."

"Who, in turn, are now trying to kill you."

"I'd do it again."

"Truth, justice, the American way and all that?"

"Right." She pressed against his chest and backed him up a step. "What about you? What made you throw away your dedication to the cause?"

"I never said I did."

"You didn't have to. A junior reporter could figure out that's exactly what you did. You don't hide it well."

She laid her hand against his cheek and traced his scars with her thumb. He felt like she'd branded him, with her touch, her eyes.

He grasped her wrist, breaking the contact, but didn't let her go-and she didn't move away.

"When I'm following a story, my mindset is whatever happens, happens. Fear can't factor in to doing whatever's necessary to get at the truth. My guess is that you were the same way," she paused, then added, "before."

Cord dropped her hand and stepped back. Jenny followed.

"Care to comment?"

"I have to get more firewood for the night." After he'd turned the stove and oven off, he grabbed his coat from the peg by the door. "You should rest."

She folded her arms. "I'll still be here when you get back."

This was exactly why he lived alone. He didn't want to talk about "it" or anything else for that matter. He jammed his hat down on his head and stepped outside. Maybe she'd be asleep when he got back.

Jenny was exhausted. She wandered around the living room and kitchen, avoiding the couch. She almost wished they were at Cord's cabin where she could get more tangible clues about him.

She picked up the stack of newspapers and magazines lying on the table in the living room and leaned against the raised stone hearth with a pillow at her back. She opened the newspaper and scanned the headlines. A woman who had ink instead of blood running through her veins, and the headlines didn't interest her in the least. Instead, her eyes moved to the window searching for a glimpse of Cord.

d.a.m.n it... she'd pressed too hard, and he'd shut down. She knew better, but reason and interrogative finesse seemed to desert her where he was concerned. Physical attraction aside, she should just back off and leave him to his demons, but the need for answers was wired in her DNA. What would make a man on the run from some negative experience, likely encountered in the line of duty, take on someone like her and her problems when he could and should have turned her over to Grady and walked away? Snowstorm aside, he didn't have to be here with her. He could have left her and gone on his way, waited out the storm somewhere else. But he hadn't. Why?

She heard the back door open and close. A few seconds later, Cord came into the room carrying firewood. He walked around her and added the wood in his arms to the stack on the hearth. He didn't speak to her, didn't even look at her as he tended the fire.

"Still snowing?"

"Yeah."

"Hard?"

"Yeah."