He’d never seen it coming. He’d gone along with the relationship even though he wasn’t nearly as invested as she was.
Bam, bam, bam. The noise didn’t soothe him, but he kept hammering long past the point where the nail head came flat with the wood.
There didn’t seem to be any way to win on this assignment. If he took Rachel to bed, as he wanted to do, how would they make the transition back to being simply work associates after this was all over? Would he wind up breaking her heart, as he had Susan’s?
He started on a new nail. Bam, bam, bam.
“What are you doing?”
Her shout made him whirl around. Rachel stood behind him in a tank top and panties. The unruliness of her long thick hair and the sleepy confusion on her face told him she’d just tumbled out of bed, not thinking about what she was or wasn’t wearing. In this heat, a robe would be intolerable, anyway.
But she had no idea what the sight of her barely clad body did to him, especially in his current state. Tempted to close the five feet between them and sweep her into his arms, he felt his muscles tense. The sex would be good. It had been the last time. Until she’d ruined it by declaring her love.
They’d succumb sooner or later, he told himself. Why not sooner? He wanted it to be now. But he couldn’t go through with it, knowing he’d only hurt her in the end.
Susan said she couldn’t live without you, that she’d rather be dead…. “What does it look like?” he said, and went back to hammering.
“You’ve got to fix the outhouse at one in the morning?” she yelled above the racket he was making.
When he didn’t answer, she moved closer. “Nate?”
He refused to turn. He didn’t want to see her, didn’t want her to realize he couldn’t find an honorable solution in all of this. He couldn’t leave Ethan to go on his merry way. There was no telling how many people he might hurt. Neither could he infiltrate the cult without Rachel. But if they managed to get in, he’d have to sleep in her bed night after night…. “It’s too hot when the sun’s up,” he muttered.
“You were here all evening while I was at the meeting, weren’t you?”
“No.” He’d been in town for most of that time, having dinner at the café, talking to Thelma and setting up the fact that his “wife” had gone to Paradise to see what the Covenanters were all about. He’d even checked in with his parents, just to say hello, since it had been a week or more since they’d heard from him.
“Can you stop?” She took hold of his arm to keep him from swinging the hammer. “I’m trying to sleep.”
Jerking out of her grasp, he threw the hammer to the ground. “Fine. I’ve stopped. Happy now?”
Confusion lined her usually smooth forehead. “I guess. But…I’m at a loss here. What have I done to upset you?”
“What do you think? I’ve told you before. Cover yourself up—unless you want me to take off what little you’ve still got on.”
Her mouth formed a surprised O. But he didn’t act on his words. He sidestepped her and jumped in his truck. Then he tore down the drive, heading to Rodeo.
Maybe he’d be able to find a damn bar.
14
Rachel sat on the bed, waiting. What was going on? Why had Nate been in such a terrible mood, how had she caused it and where had he gone?
She didn’t have any answers to those questions. He’d made it perfectly clear in the past that he didn’t want her. He’d never even called her after their night together, never mentioned it until the drive from California. And then he’d acted as if it wasn’t a big deal. So why did what she wore or didn’t wear bother him? She’d gone outside in a tank top and panties. But a bikini swimsuit revealed more. And she hadn’t been trying to seduce him. She’d merely been trying to get him to quit hammering so she could sleep. Did he expect her to get fully dressed to come out for two seconds?
Whatever was bugging him probably had very little to do with her, she realized. He was worried about their assignment. And he had good reason. If Ethan was half as smart as he seemed, he wouldn’t be easy to stop, even if he was abusing his power.
With a sigh, she got up to make herself some herbal tea, hoping it would help her sleep. She had no Internet access, no cell-phone coverage and no vehicle. She was stranded. There was nothing she could do but try to calm down and go back to bed.
After Nate Mott drove off, Ethan stopped worrying that he and Bart would be spotted watching the trailer. He was excited by the opportunity Nate’s absence gave him and was tempted to reveal his presence by going to Rachel. She’d been rather cool during the meeting, tough to read and to reach. He could feel her resistance. But he was confident he could win her over and persuade her to believe in him. All he needed was enough time and personal contact. Maybe he’d say he’d been awakened in the middle of the night by a voice telling him her heart was aching. His ability to divine when she was upset or in trouble would go a long way toward establishing credibility.
But Bartholomew would never agree to it. Bart was the one who’d dragged him out here in the middle of the night, convinced that Rachel Mott should not be allowed to return to Paradise. He didn’t trust her or her husband and was trying to talk Ethan into shunning them both. But Bart jumped at his own shadow. Ethan would never let a man so limited in his thinking stand in the way of what he wanted. Not for long. And after seeing Rachel at the meeting tonight, he was fairly sure he wanted her. She could bring back the excitement he’d felt with Courtney, would make up for the disappointment he’d suffered because of her and take his mind off Martha, too. Neither Martha nor Courtney could compare to Rachel. She was a prize far more worthy of his interest.
“It’s like I told you, isn’t it? They’re not true candidates for conversion,” Bartholomew whispered as they edged slowly and quietly away from the clearing and walked back to the Jeep. “They wouldn’t be loyal.”
Ethan didn’t know what Bart meant. They hadn’t been able to hear anything over the noise of Nate’s hammer. How did witnessing a marital spat prove whether or not the Motts were candidates for conversion? Whether or not they’d be loyal? Even after the pounding stopped, their voices hadn’t been loud enough to carry to the place where he and Bart were crouched behind some scrub oak. “It isn’t the healthy who need a physician, my friend, but the sick.”