Page 4 of Mountain Captive

“That’s Harley. He won’t hurt you.” Not unless she told him to. The dog was trained to protect, though most of the time he was a genuine sweetheart. “Just hand me the pack.”

The doctor—why couldn’t she remember his name?—held it out of reach. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Can I have my pack, please?”

He handed it over. “You left the trail in a hurry,” he said. “We didn’t get a chance to meet. I’m Rand Martin.”

“Thanks for returning my pack, Rand.” She tried to close the door, but he caught the frame and held it.

Harley’s growl intensified, his body rigid. Rand glanced down at him but held his ground. “First, I want to make sure you’re okay,” he said. “You looked really upset back there on the trail. You still look upset.”

“I’m fine.”

“Who was the man watching you?”

Her breath caught. “You saw him too?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know him?” she asked.

“Why don’t I come in, and we’ll talk about it?”

Just then, Jasmine, a petite woman with short red hair and white-rimmed glasses, appeared at the top of the stairs at the end of the hall. “Is everything okay, Chris?” she asked. Her gaze shifted to Rand, then back to Chris, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Everything is fine.” Chris signaled for Harley to stand down and opened the door a little wider. “Come on in,” she said to Rand. At least if he turned out to be a threat, Jasmine would be able to identify him. Not that there was anything particularly threatening about the doctor. He was older than Chris—early forties, maybe—but he was fit and strong. He exuded calm, and he struck her as someone who would be good to have on her side should Jedediah, or whoever that man had been, decide to show up.

He moved into her apartment, and she shut the door behind him. Harley stayed between them, silent but wary. Rand stopped in front of a painting beside the front door, an eight-by-ten canvas depicting a young girl crouched beside a pool in a mountain stream. A face was reflected in the water—a much older woman meant to represent the girl in her later years. “One of yours?” Rand asked.

“Yes.” She dropped the pack onto the floor beside the sofa. “Do you know the man who was watching me there on the trail?”

He shook his head. “No. But you looked like you recognized him.”

“I thought I did, but I was wrong.”

“Then why were you afraid?”

“I wasn’t afraid.” The lie came easily. She was practiced at hiding that part of herself.

“You were terrified.” He spoke with such certainty, as if he knew her and her innermost thoughts. But he wasn’t saying the words to use her emotions against her as a weapon. If anything, his expression telegraphed understanding. As if he, too, had felt terror before and knew its paralyzing power.

She turned away from him. “I’m a single woman,” she said. “I don’t appreciate when a man I don’t know takes such an intense interest in me.” Would Rand take the hint that he, himself, should leave her alone?

“For what it’s worth, I looked for him on the way down the trail, but I didn’t see him again.” He looked around her place. “I take it he didn’t follow you here?”

She shook her head. She had made sure she was alone before she risked coming here. “Thanks for returning my pack,” she said. “I really have things to do now.” Unpack her suitcase, for one. Maybe do a little research online and try to find out what happened to Jedediah. Could she dredge up his last name from memory? Had she ever known it?

“Would you have dinner with me?”

The question startled her so much her mouth dropped open. She stared. Rand stared back, his lips tipped up at one corner, blue eyes full of amusement. Was he laughing at her? “What did you say?” she asked.

“Would you have dinner with me?”

“No.” Absolutely not.

“Why not?”

“I don’t date.”

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