Murphy's Law Page 7

  He wasn’t the only dangerous one on the mountain. Sara Sheldon presented a danger that could very well level him. She was soft and attentive and compassionate by nature. The last thing he needed. He needed his privacy back.

  The door behind him opened.

  Murphy groaned inwardly and turned around to see Sara and Abby standing in the doorway. Abby wore a jacket, hat and gloves over her flowered pants and shirt, and Sara had put on his extra parka. The cuffs were rolled three times and she swam in it, but she didn’t seem to care as she smiled at him and stepped outside, closing the door behind them.

  “Mind if we tag along?” she asked. “We could use some fresh air.”

  Yeah, he could relate. He didn’t want them to come along because he needed time alone. One look at the hopeful smile on the little girl’s face and he knew his time alone had just been annihilated.

  “Please,” Sara added with a pretty smile that made him curse beneath his breath.

  Walking away he said, “Don’t fall behind.”

  Sara fell into step beside him and Abby ran to keep up, but neither complained nor seemed to mind. Murphy glanced down at the girl and received a sunny smile in return. The next thing he knew, he had checked his stride and slowed down to a near crawl to accommodate her short legs. They wouldn’t reach the road until dinnertime at this pace.

  They walked in silence down the two tracks leading to his cabin. Once he had to latch onto the girl’s collar to prevent her from falling on her bottom and getting all wet. Upright again, the girl held tight to his hand. Murphy tried to shake her off, but she smiled up at him and held tight. Scowling, he tried to think about something else. Impossible with Sara smiling at him. She looked just as happy to be outdoors.

  Abby trotted happily between them, one tiny hand in Sara’s and the other in Murphy’s. She didn’t seem to notice the tension between them as they walked down the rough path.

  “Have you lived here long?” Sara asked moments later.

  “No.”

  Her face fell. Damn, he’d disappointed her, but he didn’t want to know this woman. He had a feeling once he crossed that line there would be no going back. Sara Sheldon would leave her mark on any man lucky enough to get close to her.

  “You were right,” she said quietly after a long stretch of silence.

  Murphy remained silent, not wanting to hear any more. He didn’t want to be right and he certainly didn’t want to know the details.

  “I have a history of misjudging men and I’m not proud of it.”

  “You misjudged Abby’s father,” he heard himself say.

  Sara nodded, staring straight ahead. “I was young and impressionable and naive. Broke, I dropped out of college to work two lame jobs in order to make ends meet. I was paying tuition and trying to keep my mom in the nursing home she insisted was the only decent one in Chicago, and sinking fast. The nursing home bills were killing me, but I managed to keep her there. Although I ate a lot of tuna and canned soup and lived in a…well, let’s just say I wasn’t living in a mansion.

  “That’s when Kent walked into my life and swept me off my feet. Literally. He whisked me away to a castle in the sky and promised me the world. He paid my student loans and swore I’d never have to work again. I believed him and we married a week later.” Sara let out a low, harsh laugh. “Well, the white horse and carriage turned into a pumpkin after midnight and Cinderella lost her glass slipper when the family found out about their youngest son’s marriage to a girl from the wrong side of town.

  “Little did I know, Kent had a flair for doing spontaneous things just to piss off his family. He’d really done it by bringing me home, and I got caught in the crossfire. That family made my life hell. It’s a mistake I’ll never rectify and I have to live with that.”

  Murphy heard the bitterness and regret in her voice and knew he’d just been given the edited version of the story. Much more had happened to Sara. Though he didn’t want to get involved, he wanted to know.

  “Where is your husband?” he asked.

  Sara stared off into the trees, a cynical twist to her lips. “He died six months ago. He and his mistress were driving to their hotel of choice for the weekend and while she was…servicing Kent, he got distracted and plowed into a parked car. The rate of speed he was driving combined with no seatbelts and the elevated alcohol levels in his bloodstream killed them both instantly. Even in death Kent managed to go out with a bang. The Benchleys used their money and influence to keep it out of the papers so no one knows how the prodigal son humiliated them. He died a martyr and I was the widow who had to live the lie.”

  Abby looked up at them. Sara smiled down at her, her features softening. “Abby is the only good thing that came out of my marriage. She’s the one thing Kent gave me I can’t hate him for.”

  Tears shimmered in Sara’s eyes. Murphy knew she had suffered dearly at the hands of her husband and his family. A sudden, protective urge whipped through him. He disliked this family already.

  Abby smiled at her mother and continued to skip along between them.

  Sara looked up and met his eyes. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I told myself I wasn’t going to.” Vulnerability and loneliness shone in her eyes.

  “Your mother, is she still in the nursing home?” he asked.

  Sara’s eyes clouded and she looked away. “No, she passed away two years ago. Kent insisted we move her into a more upscale home and she died in her sleep two days later. Another mistake of mine. I never should have taken her out of the home she loved.”

  A lifetime of regrets would break down even the strongest person. Murphy could see them layered on Sara’s shoulders.

  “Who are you running from, if not your husband?”

  “I’ve said too much already.”

  Sara suddenly swung Abby into her arms and hugged the girl tight to her chest, burying her face in the curls peeking out of her hat. Murphy watched the girl squeeze Sara tight and giggle, saw Sara struggle to reign in her emotions, and knew he was in trouble. Sara Sheldon represented his weakness. A weakness that had almost killed him once.

  Their eyes met over the girl’s head and he felt himself walking onto a loaded minefield. He doubted he would walk across without detonation and sighed. For her, he would do it.

  “Please take us back to the cabin,” Sara said. “I think I’ve walked far enough.”

  Murphy understood what she meant. She had gone too far and she wasn’t going any further.

  He nodded and turned around. He would get the truth out of her another time, and then he would decide what to do about it.

  Chapter 7

  Sara couldn’t sleep. She’d told Murphy too much today and had come dangerously close to telling him everything.

  Abby slept peacefully beside her with her arms wrapped around her doll.

  She longed for a friend, someone to talk to and share her troubles with, someone to reassure her that things were going to work out. Murphy wasn’t that kind of friend. He wouldn’t do any of those things for her, so why risk telling him? He wasn’t a touchy, feely kind of person and she doubted had a consoling bone in his body. Yet, she longed to have him wrap her in his big, strong arms and hold her until her troubles faded away. His broad shoulders would hold her burdens easily and keep her safe. And he would scowl the entire time.

  Sara smiled into the darkness. Being held in his arms again sounded really good right now. She longed to lay her burdens on someone else, if only for a moment so she could regroup.

  Sighing, she slipped out of bed and from the room. Warm milk wasn’t going to help her tonight. Thinking about Murphy made her more restless. Every time she looked at him, butterflies took flight inside her belly and electricity zinged down her spine. A response she had no clue how to handle. Which frustrated her even more. She needed a drink. Not the bitter, expensive wine the Benchleys always served, but a nice, solid glass of bourbon. The kind that burned on the way down and warmed her from the inside out. It would nu
mb the edginess and hopefully make her forget about Murphy’s strong arms.

  Maybe Murphy had a stash somewhere in the kitchen. Crossing her fingers, she tiptoed into the kitchen and stopped short when she saw the light already on.

  Murphy did have a secret stash.

  He sat at the kitchen table, half in the shadows created by the soft light glowing above the stove. A bottle of amber liquid sat on the table in front of him, an empty glass in his hand. His hair was tousled from sleep and to Sara’s dismay, he was naked to the waist. Her gaze landed on his muscled shoulders and trailed across his tanned chest. So much for getting him out of her mind. Now she had the real thing to dream about. Looking at the dark hairs that veed down his chest and disappeared behind the table, she decided he had been right. He was a dangerous man.

  She tore her eyes away from temptation and looked at the granite lines of his face. Beneath the hardness of his expression, something haunting lingered. Drawn, she circled the table until she stood at the opposite end.

  Murphy met her eyes with coldness that should have sent her running for the safety of her room, but she remained standing in place. He wanted to chase her away. This time she wasn’t running.

  “Mind if I join you?” she asked on her way to the cupboard to grab a glass and return to stand over Murphy’s shoulder. She reached for the bottle. The muscles in his shoulders flexed when she leaned over him.

  Murphy’s hand snaked out and wrapped around hers, preventing her from pouring a drink.

  “I mind,” he growled.

  “Well, get over it. I need a drink.”

  Scowling, he let go of her hand and allowed her to pour a glass for herself. She refilled his glass next and set the bottle on the table. Then she moved to the chair beside him and sat before lifting her glass in a silent toast.

  “Cheers.” She brought the glass to her lips. His eyes on her as she drained the glass made her fight the urge to cough as the fiery liquid burned its way down her throat. Seconds later she felt the familiar warming sensation as it numbed her insides. Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away as she reached for the bottle.

  Murphy held it away from her. “What are you doing?”

  “Having a drink. I’m not in the mood for warm milk tonight.”

  His eyes darkened and narrowed. “You don’t strike me as the drinking type.”

  She wasn’t, but tonight it sounded good. Maybe it would soothe away her problems and make her forget how screwed-up her life was. Talking about Kent earlier had brought back painful memories. She didn’t want to feel that misery anymore tonight.

  “Maybe you don’t know my type,” she said.

  Murphy studied her closely for a moment before rubbing a weary hand over his face. “Go back to bed, Sara. Sleep it off.”

  “I don’t want to sleep it off. I’m tired of thinking about it.”

  Maybe it was the whisky, or the sight of Murphy’s naked chest, or the part of her that had been dormant for six years coming back to life. More than anything she wanted to discover it with Murphy, her strong, scarred hero.

  She rose to her feet. Murphy watched warily as she stepped in front of him and positioned herself between him and the table. He leaned back in his chair and sent her a thunderous look.

  “You and I are alike in many ways, Murphy,” she said softly. “We both have lost pieces of ourselves we can’t ever get back and it has forced us into a life of loneliness and solitude. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of being alone.”

  Murphy pinned her with a hard glare. “I’m not what you want. Go back to your room before I do something we’ll both regret in the morning.”

  His harshly spoken words sent little electrical shocks through her body.

  “I’m tired of people telling me what I want,” she said.

  Murphy grabbed her wrists and pulled her down toward him. He wasn’t gentle about it. He leaned in close. “How many lovers have you had?”

  The taunt should have scared her off, but not tonight.

  “I haven’t been with anyone besides my husband and that was over four years ago,” she answered with a defensive note.

  He must not have expected such blunt honesty, because he went very still and his eyes showed his surprise. Some of the hostility left his expression. “Christ,” he muttered, letting her go and reaching around her for the whisky. He didn’t bother with his glass and drank straight from the bottle.

  Sara watched his throat work and wanted to sink her teeth into the strong cords of his neck. He was a virile man. Strong and gruff and potent. And suffering. She recognized the signs because she experienced the exact same ones.

  “You had another nightmare,” she said softly, leaning against the table.

  Murphy’s expression darkened. His fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle.

  “I know about nightmares, Murphy. I know how it feels to be haunted by the past and I know it hurts to be alone all the time. Neither one of us has to be alone tonight.”

  He set the bottle on the floor beside his chair and slowly rose to his feet. She swallowed hard when she saw his jeans rode low on his hips. Images of Murphy tossing her on the table and ravaging her flashed through her head.

  When Murphy stepped close and pressed her onto the table, she thought he would do exactly that.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Nerve endings danced and her heart tripped in her chest.

  He braced his hands on the table on either side of her and eased her down. The sensation of his bare chest against hers made her swallow hard and try to remember to breathe. His masculine scent filled her lungs, and butterflies set flight low in her belly. He stopped their descent with Sara half sitting, half lying, and she found it more erotic than any dream she’d had of him. A mix of anticipation and excitement zinged through her veins. She had never felt this kind of arousal before and she liked it, wanted to find out what else Murphy could do to her.

  Sara lifted her eyes to meet Murphy’s. Heat smoldered in his. Her mouth went dry. Combined with the scar, he looked rugged and untamed and her body answered the call. For a moment they stayed like that, chests rising and falling in unison, just staring at each other. She saw the battle he fought and hoped he lost, because she didn’t think she could walk away from him tonight.

  “I’m not the man you’re looking for.” Murphy growled, gripped the nape of her neck with one hand and crushed his mouth to hers. His lips were hard and demanding as they moved over hers, the battle raging still.

  Sara arched into the kiss, feeling a heady sense of power that she was responsible for his torment. She responded to the anger in his kiss with equal fervor. She didn’t want casual sex, but she also didn’t want to be alone tonight. Deep down she knew this would be added to her long list of mistakes, but she didn’t care. Murphy would be her greatest mistake.

  The kiss changed, softened, and turned into a heated exploration of her mouth. How could she have lived this long without being kissed so thoroughly and sensually? Her hands found their way to his chest and with a tiny moan she splayed her palms over rock-hard muscle and crisp hair. She wanted to explore every muscle, every scar.

  Murphy lowered her to the table until she lay beneath him. He fitted himself between her legs without breaking their kiss. He tasted like whisky and male. So potent he overwhelmed her. She had never known anyone as intense as Murphy. His power stirred a primal response inside her she’d never known existed. Murphy’s hand grazed her hip beneath her shorts. Uncertainty fled.

  As quickly as he kissed her, he released her and stepped away.

  Sara opened her eyes and blinked to focus.

  Murphy stood a couple feet away, chest rising and falling rapidly. His face was a tight mask of control, but a muscle jumped in his cheek.

  She had just lost the battle.

  “Go to bed, Sara,” he ordered in a harsh voice.

  “Murphy--”

  “No. I was out of line, it won’t happen again. You have my word. Good nig
ht.”

  Stung by his rejection, she sat up and slid off the table onto shaky legs. He wanted this as much as she did, so why deny them? Damn his honorable intentions.

  “What are you afraid of?” she asked quietly before walking away.

  * * * *

  You.

  Murphy raked a hand through his hair and glared at Sara’s closed door. He never should have let the kiss happen. Hell, he never should have opened his door two nights ago. There weren’t many things that scared him in this world. Sara Sheldon did. She threatened everything he’d come here to avoid. She offered something she didn’t know anything about. She was practically a damned virgin.

  The thought added to his frustration. He’d be a fool to take her to bed, and he wasn’t looking to be one of her mistakes. There was no room in his life for a woman. He wasn’t ready to share his past with anyone. If he made love to Sara, the question of protection would arise. He wasn’t prepared to explain to her why they wouldn’t need to use any.

  How the hell was he supposed to sleep now? He had a hard enough time sleeping for more than a couple hours at a time without the added burden of his attraction to Sara.

  He wanted to know who’d forced her to go to ground, and he wanted to protect her. The last time he protected a woman it cost him his career and self-respect. By locking himself away from the world he’d assumed he was safe. How wrong he’d been. How very, very wrong.

  Keeping his distance from Sara Sheldon would be difficult at best. But he had to do it. Making love to her would create too many complications. Too many answers to questions he didn’t want asked.

  Starting now he would do everything in his power to see he accomplished his task.

  No matter what the cost.

  * * * *

  Sara rolled over in bed and reached for Abby. A migraine stabbed at her temples. She had spent a long, miserable, sleepless night thinking about Murphy and what she wished would have happened.