Page 28 of If She Only Knew (The Cahills 1)

Paterno’s fingers surrounded Nick’s larger hand. He gave it a quick, sharp pump.

“You’re from Oregon, right?”

“Devil’s Cove.” Nick didn’t bother to smile. “Don’t ask. I think it was named by a drunken lumberjack or sailor.”

“You come down just to see the family?”

“I was asked to. Business.”

“Not because of the accident?”

“That had something to do with it.” Nick’s face was a mask without emotion, his features set, his jaw beginning to darken with five o’clock shadow.

Paterno chewed his gum in earnest as he digested the answer. With a square finger, he tapped on the card he’d left on the table and glanced back at Marla. “Remember—if you recall anything, get in touch with me.”

“I will,” she said and meant it. As painful as it might be, she wanted to know the truth, to rid herself of the torment.

Once Paterno was out of sight, Nick closed the door completely, and the sounds of the nurses’ station and elevator suddenly disappeared.

“What’re you doing?” she asked.

“Insuring that we have privacy.” His eyes were dark, the skin stretched over his cheekbones tight.

Her pulse jumped and she caught the intensity of his gaze. “You act like I’m some kind of criminal.” She shoved a strand of hair from her eyes, her fingers grazing the spot where her hair was shorn close. “Or that you are.”

He sliced her a look, and the sterile box of a room seemed suddenly far too intimate—too close.

“I just want you to be careful.”

“Look, Nick, I appreciate your concern. But you can forget all these theatrics. I don’t have anything to hide.”

How do you know? He didn’t say it, but she read it in his gaze.

Tired, cranky, her head throbbing, she was sick of the questions, the hospital, the not knowing, the pain and the dam

ned wires holding her mouth shut. More than that, she was really, really irritated that everyone she talked to was a stranger.

“That’s what I thought.” Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned against the closet and stared at her with eyes that held secrets. “So, have you got everything you need to blow this joint? Alex said the doctor was releasing you today.”

She shook her head. “What I need now is an aspirin. One about the size of Montana will do.”

“I’ll see what I can rustle up,” he said, starting for the door.

“Wait,” she said, not wanting him to leave . . . not when there was so much she didn’t understand.

He paused, hand on the doorknob.

“Why is it that I feel . . . I don’t know . . . that you don’t trust me or that you know something about me that I don’t . . .” She paused. “I mean everyone seems to know more about me than I do, but with you it’s different.”

He lifted a dark brow and turned from the door. His expression had all the warmth of an arctic blast. “What do you mean?”

“You tell me,” she suggested. “Because you know and I don’t.”

He rubbed the day’s growth of beard with the thumb of one hand and sized her up, as if . . . as if he didn’t believe her. Slowly he said, “I just came here to check on you because Alex asked me to. I don’t think we should get into anything heavy.”

“Why not?”

“Because it serves no purpose.”

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