Was it possible he really was in Timber Falls to make amends for what he did to her father-and his own?

She pushed aside her misgivings. The man had saved her life and she was here with him now, planning to spend the rest of the night under the same roof, just feet from him.

"I didn't bring you out here to jump your bones, if that's what you're worried about," he said, looking amused.

"It never crossed my mind."

"Right." The look in his eyes curled her toes as he smiled lazily at her. "Just get some rest, okay?"

"You're an impossible man, you know that?" she said.

"It's been pointed out to me on numerous occasions."

"I'm sure it has." She started toward the bedroom.

"I need to do a couple of things early in the morning. I'm sure you'll want to go see your father before we head out into the woods. Why don't I meet you back here at, say, nine o'clock?"

She turned to look at him, wondering what he had to do in the morning. "Okay."

His back was to her as he started to make a bed on the couch for himself.

"See you in the morning," she said to his broad back, then turned, noticing that a chair had been wedged under the k.n.o.b of the patio door in the bedroom. "What's with the chair under the doork.n.o.b?"

Ford had forgotten for a moment about the break-in. He turned to find her standing in the doorway and realized that wasn't all he'd forgotten. "I had an uninvited visitor earlier. Don't worry, he won't be back. The chair is just a precaution."

"Did he take anything?"

For just a moment, he actually thought about telling her the truth. "No. I guess he must have been looking for something valuable."

"Or something about my father's find," she said quietly. "You think it was the person who attacked my father?" If she hadn't been scared before, she was now. But he couldn't tell if it was for herself or her father. He suspected it was the latter. "We have to find whatever this person is after," she said with brave determination. "My father won't be safe until we do."

We. Ford nodded, torn between his relief and his guilt. Wasn't this exactly what he'd hoped for? She knew her father-and the area-better than he did. If he could just keep her alive, she might prove invaluable. Ford nodded, torn between his relief and his guilt. Wasn't this exactly what he'd hoped for? She knew her father-and the area-better than he did. If he could just keep her alive, she might prove invaluable.

Yep, he had her right where he wanted her.

Now if he just didn't screw things up- He stepped to her, thinking about nothing but the fear in her dark eyes and the slight tremble of her lips as her words died off. He hadn't planned to take her in his arms, let alone kiss her.

But she felt so right as his arms closed around her and the soft curves of her body pressed into him. When she looked up and met his gaze, all he could think about was her lush mouth, the feel of her lips, the taste of her.

He lowered his mouth, brushed his lips over hers, a quiver of desire quaking through him. She pushed herself up on tiptoes and kissed him tenderly, a sigh escaping her lips.

All his restraint from earlier in the shower evaporated in an instant as she drew back to look into his eyes. He dropped his mouth to hers, dragging her closer, crushing her to him as he kissed her with a pa.s.sion that he hadn't known he possessed.

How he wanted her, needed her. The thought left him feeling like he'd been dunked in a bucket of ice water.

He pushed himself back from her. d.a.m.n, but he was was going to screw this up, maybe already had. He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears as he tried to catch his breath and get his equilibrium again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-I..." going to screw this up, maybe already had. He could hear his pulse thundering in his ears as he tried to catch his breath and get his equilibrium again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-I..."

She looked as shaken and stunned as he felt as she stumbled back, away from him. She touched her tongue to her upper lip and took a ragged breath. "Good night," she said, looking a little sheepish as she closed the bedroom door.

"Good night." He smiled to himself as he heard her lock the door. Did she think he would force himself on her? If he had wanted her, he could have taken her earlier in the shower. And without even trying. Or taken her a few moments ago with only a little effort.

No, if they ever made love, it would be with a lot more than just her consent. She'd have to want him as badly as he did her, which was saying a lot.

He chuckled ruefully at the odds of that happening. Sure she'd kissed him back. And it wouldn't be a kiss he'd soon forget. But he knew it had been a kiss born of grat.i.tude. He didn't kid himself about that. He hadn't begun to chip away at her reserve let alone get her to lower her defenses.

But the idea held great appeal. Much more than it should have. He wanted her. Worse, he wanted her to want him with the same fervor. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with him? He didn't need this, didn't want this.

Lie to everyone else, but don't start lying to yourself, Lancaster. You kissed her because you're starting to feel something for her.

He scoffed at the idea as he walked into the kitchen. He was too smart to fall for Liam Sawyer's daughter. Cripes, how foolish would that be?

No, it was just physical. Nothing more.

He started to pour himself a drink but changed his mind. Now, more than ever he needed his senses about him.

The rain was falling, a hypnotic shower that drummed softly on the roof. He went back into the living room and sprawled on the couch but he knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep.

He closed his eyes, listening to the downpour, thinking about the kiss, angry with himself not only for initiating it but for enjoying it so much.

What kind of fool was he? When she found out the truth about him, she would have nothing to do with him. Worse, if he wasn't careful, he would lose his focus, forget why he was here, forget what really mattered.

But even as he thought it, he remembered the way she'd felt in his arms. Soft. Lush. Amazing...

His eyes flew open and he sat up with a start. The light in the attic. The first one he'd seen had been a flashlight beam. But later when he'd spotted Roz- He scrubbed his hands over his face and looked toward the closed bedroom door. Rozalyn hadn't had a flashlight. The light had been coming from a lamp as she moved across to the balcony. That meant-The person with the flashlight had turned on the lamp and then...

Rozalyn had been right about one thing, she hadn't been alone in the attic. Someone had been up there. Waiting for her.

He fell back on the couch, but sleep was now out of the question. Someone had drugged Rozalyn tonight, sure as h.e.l.l. The urine sample would give him an idea of what drug was used once he had it tested. But how did that person get her up to the attic and trick her into climbing out onto the widow's walk where her mother had committed suicide?

And was it just to mess with her mind?

Or to kill her?

One disturbing thought kept him awake long into the rainy night. Rozalyn Sawyer wasn't safe. Not in that house. Not in Timber Falls. Maybe not anywhere.

And he feared he knew the reason.

Bones.

Chapter Eight.

Roz woke to the sun. Outside the patio doors was one of Oregon's famous sunshowers complete with a double rainbow. The storm had pa.s.sed, leaving the sky clear, sunshine spilling down through the trees like a sign from heaven.

Her father was going to come out of his coma.

She and Ford would find whatever her father had discovered and who had tried to kill him...if someone really had tried. She shuddered at the thought. But Ford believed it so strongly, how could she not?

She got up and showered, reminded of Ford and the night before, the two of them in this shower together. Her cheeks flamed at the memory-including the kiss! Was he still in the next room sleeping or had he already gone out on those errands he had to run?

She promised herself she would keep him at arm's length. No more mistakes like the one last night. If he hadn't stopped the kiss when he had- She shoved away the thought. The two of them would find out the truth about her father's fall, but there was no way she was lowering her defenses around Ford Lancaster again. He might be attractive to look at but he was dangerous. That was probably what attracted her. She had always picked boring men, safe men. Men she could never get serious about.

She glanced at the closed door, imagining the man behind it. Ford Lancaster was nothing like those men and that's what scared her. With Ford, it would be all or nothing. Total surrender.

As she dumped out the clothes he'd put in the pillowcase for her last night, she was touched again by his kindness. It made her feel a little guilty for still having misgivings about his motivations.

He'd saved her life last night on the widow's walk. Had she just been sleepwalking or was he right? Was it possible someone had put drugs in the chocolates? Drugged or asleep, why would she follow her mother's voice to the attic?

She remembered her mother's favorite record playing on the old phonograph. She would rather believe it was just a short in the wiring. Or a peculiarity of the electrical storm. What she didn't want to believe was that someone in this house actually wanted to hurt her. Even kill her.

And not necessarily someone in the house, she thought, remembering what Ford had said about finding a screwdriver on the ledge outside her window.

She shook her head, as confused as she'd been when she'd awakened to find herself standing on the widow's walk railing about to- About to what? Not jump. No, she would never have done that. Would she have?

Didn't she once read that people often walked in their sleep when they were under a great deal of stress?

Except Ford is convinced you were drugged.

If she had been, she didn't feel any aftereffects. In fact, she was surprised how good she felt. It was as if this was the first good night's sleep she'd had in years. She could only hope her father had also had a good night's rest and was better this morning.

As she finished dressing, the only things she couldn't find were her shoes. She was sure she'd seen her hiking boots here last night. Hadn't she seen Ford dump them out of the pillowcase?

She looked around the room. When she was a teenager, she and Charity had sleepovers in the small guest house. They had stayed up half the night giggling and talking about boys. Of course Charity only talked about Mitch, but Roz would imagine a stranger, some white knight she had yet to meet, who would ride in and carry her away on his trusty steed.

She thought of the man sleeping on the couch in the room beyond the door. No Sir Lancelot that one. Oh, he'd sweep her off her feet, carry her away on his trusty steed, then drop her off without ceremony while she watched him ride into the sunset.

The problem was, he was starting to look like a knight to her. One more heroic act and she'd be a goner.

She thought of how he'd behaved in the shower. She'd been stark naked with the man and he'd been the perfect gentleman.

But that kiss just before she'd gone to bed had been anything but gentlemanly. She felt her face flame. He'd aroused more than just s.e.xual feelings. His tenderness in the shower coupled with saving her life had drawn her in like a la.s.so.

She reminded herself that he'd been the one who'd stopped the kiss. Put a halt to what was bound to have happened after the kiss.

Was it possible he had no interest in her other than to keep her alive so she could help him find whatever her father had discovered in the woods?

Well, he'd missed his chance last night.

So why did she feel like she'd missed hers, too?

Because no man had ever stirred these kinds of feelings in her.

It's just grat.i.tude, she told herself as she made the bed and remembered where she'd last seen her hiking boots. Ford had taken them out of the pillowcase and put them down beside the couch.

She moved to the bedroom door and opened it a crack. If he was still here, she didn't want to wake him. And if he was already gone- He was still here. He lay on the couch, head back, lips parted, snoring lightly. She couldn't help smiling. Something about him snoring made him more human.

And there in front of the couch were the toes of her boots peeking out from under the quilt spread over him.

She tiptoed closer, leaning down to inch toward her boots, enjoying watching him sleep. He looked vulnerable asleep, and the sight touched something deep inside her.

She dropped to her hands and knees and had just reached out for her boots when he let out a sigh and rolled over onto his side, his face just inches from hers. She snagged hold of her boots and slowly slid them toward her.

She was close enough she could see his lashes, black against his skin. His stubborn jawline was dark with stubble and looked rough to the touch. She fought the urge to cup his cheek in her hand, remembering the rough feel of his beard last night when he'd kissed her.

He sighed again, his lashes fluttered, then his lips turned up at the corners in a slow, s.e.xy smile. She felt her heart kick up a beat. She drew her boots to her and slipped back from him. Terrified by the feelings he evoked in her.

Even if everything he'd told her was the truth, he was a disagreeable man, egotistical and self-righteous and impossible. And yet for a startling moment, she had the strongest urge to cup his face in her palms, to press her lips against his, to be a part of that smile. This time it would end in more than a kiss.

Crazy. She was crazy. Maybe she had had gone up to the attic last night to jump. Maybe she'd been stone-cold sober and awake. gone up to the attic last night to jump. Maybe she'd been stone-cold sober and awake.

She took one last look at him before retreating out the door into the sunshine. Her heart was pounding and she felt light-headed as she cut through the garden and around the side of the house to her SUV. Then impulsively, as it was such a nice day, she decided to walk to the hospital.

FORD CRACKED one eyelid open as he heard the door close and smiled to himself. For a moment there, he'd thought she was going to kiss him. He'd held his breath, willing himself not to move, not to think about closing her in his arms. He could still smell her scent in the air as he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. d.a.m.n, he was going to have to take a cold shower. An ice-cold one.

You're enjoying this way too much.

He smiled at that thought. h.e.l.l, yes.

It struck him that he wanted her to like him.

He groaned at the thought. "Let's not lose sight of what's at stake here, all right?" he said to himself as he threw back the quilt. "Eventually she's going to find out the truth and you're going to be a b.a.s.t.a.r.d again."

So true. He headed for the shower, unable not to remember the night before and the naked woman he'd held in his arms as the warm water cascaded over her skin. He turned the water on cold and threw himself under the icy spray.

He'd just gotten out and dressed when he heard a knock at the door. He thought about ignoring it but whoever it was knew he was in. His pickup was parked right outside.

He opened the door, disappointed to find Drew Lane standing there. He'd rather hoped that Rozalyn had come back to wake him with that kiss.

"Mother thought you might like to join us for breakfast," Drew said as he tried to see past Ford into the room. "Unless you have other plans. Then we're all going to the hospital to see how Liam is doing."

Obviously Drew had discovered Rozalyn wasn't in her bedroom and thought she might be here. "Please give my apologies to your mother but I do have other plans."

Drew glanced at Ford's still damp dark hair. "Mother will be disappointed," he said, sounding angry.

"Tell her thanks for the invite. Maybe some other time." Ford closed the door and watched with too much satisfaction as Drew scowled and turned to head back through the garden to the house.

Ford reminded himself that if he was right, someone had drugged Rozalyn last night and got her up on that widow's walk railing. That someone could have been Drew Lane. But now wasn't the time to confront him about the chocolates. First Ford had to be sure they'd been drugged.

He hoped Drew would think that Rozalyn was under his watchful eye-if not in his bed. Both were a lie. But then, Drew didn't know that, did he?