of his whereabouts didn't mean he was safe. From the looks of the sunshine and blue sky he saw outside the windows, the winter storm had passed. Even if she couldn't telephone for help, that didn't mean a search party wouldn't show up on her doorstep any time now.
'Why don't you sit down and eat. You've got to be hungry. You haven't eaten a bite in a couple of days.' Elizabeth didn't think she'd ever seen anyone as wary, as suspicious as Reece. Didn't the man trust anybody?
Reece pulled out the chair, sat down, picked up the Blue Willow cup and tasted the coffee. The brew was warm, rich, full-bodied, with a hint of flavor he couldn't quite make out. He swallowed, then frowned, wondering exactly what the unique taste could be.
'Vanilla almond,' Elizabeth said, as if she'd read his mind. 'I grind my own coffee beans.' She nodded at the counter where an antique coffee grinder perched on a wooden shelf alongside several other antique utensils.
Nodding in acknowledgment of her statement, Reece picked up his fork, lifted a hefty portion of scrambled eggs and put them in his mouth. Suddenly he had the oddest sensation that he'd somehow stepped into the twilight zone, that he had escaped from the sheriff's car and found his way to never-never land. Nothing about this place, this isolated cabin in the woods, or this woman-sultry, earthy and incredibly beautiful-seemed real.
Any woman, alone the way Elizabeth Mallory was, would be afraid of an escaped convict, but Reece sensed more curiosity than fear emanating from the woman sitting across the table from him.
While he continued eating, devouring the tasty breakfast, he watched Elizabeth as she broke open a biscuit, buttered it and fed small pieces to her wolf-dog. The animal ate heartily, consuming three biscuits in quick succession. Elizabeth laughed, the sound piercingly sweet to Reece's ears. There was no pretension, no coy feminine silliness to her laugh. The sound came from her heart-warm, loving and completely genuine. Any fool could see the mutual love that existed between dog and woman.
'Where'd you get him?' Reece nodded toward Elizabeth's pet.
'Mac here?' She patted the animal's back, then scratched behind his ears.
'Mac?'
'Short for MacDatho.' Elizabeth sensed a minute loosening of the tension in Reece, barely discernible but evident nevertheless. 'My German shepherd, Elspeth, was Mac's mother. His father was a wolf.'
'I'd guessed as much. Are there many wolves in these hills?'
'Some.'
'Why'd you take care of me?' Reece asked. 'You should have tied me up once I passed out on you. Instead, you put me to bed and nursed me. Now you're feeding me. Woman, haven't you got any sense at all?'
Elizabeth smiled. Dear God in heaven, he wished she hadn't smiled at him like that. He wanted to capture that smile, hold on to it, keep it from vanishing.
'The newscaster said you'd been convicted of killing a man,' Elizabeth said. 'Did you kill him?'
'I was convicted, wasn't I?'
'I know that. But were you guilty?'
Reece finished off the last bite of bacon, downed the remains of his coffee and shoved back his chair. Standing, he stared down at Elizabeth's upturned face. 'Would you believe me if I told you that I'm innocent, that I didn't kill B. K. Stanton?'
'Yes, I'd believe you.'
Running his hands through his thick, wavy hair, Reece snorted. 'Lady, are you that naive? Would you take the word of a stranger, someone you don't know the first thing about?'
But I do know things about you, Reece. Less than I want to know, but more than you could ever realize. 'You don't have the soul of a killer.'
'What makes you think I don't?'
'I can sense it. I'm very good at sensing things.' Did she dare try to explain her special gifts, her God-given psychic powers? Would he believe her if she did?
'You live up here in these hills all by yourself?'
Standing, Elizabeth began clearing away the table, stacking the dishes in the sink. 'Just Mac and me. My great-aunt, Margaret McPhearson, spends a lot of time up here with me in warm weather. She lives in Dover's Mill.'
'How do you support yourself? Do you have a job in Dover's Mill?' Reece couldn't imagine anyone with no income being able to afford such a luxurious two-story cabin.
'I operate a nursery. I have a degree in horticulture.' Elizabeth turned on the water faucet and squirted dishwashing detergent into the sink.
'What sort of nursery? Flowers?'
MacDatho followed Reece to the back door, watching him intently when he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. The dry, frigid air cut through Reece’s clothing, but the sun warmed his face when he stared up at the sky.
Walking out onto the porch, Elizabeth waited for Mac to run outside before she closed the door. She turned to Reece, instinctively reaching out to touch his arm, but she suddenly remembered his aversion to being touched and withdrew her hand.
'Look over to the right and you'll see my greenhouses. I grow roses and a fairly large variety of flowers as well as herbs and spices and a few specialty shrubs. I sell in nearby towns to both florists and gardeners, and two years ago I started a mail-order business, which has grown by leaps and bounds.'
'So, you're a successful businesswoman, huh?'
'I guess you could say that.'
'How are you keeping the temperatures in your greenhouses regulated without electricity? A generator?'
'Yes. The generator kicks in automatically when the electrical power fails, which is fairly often when we get a winter storm.'
Reece glanced at her. The sun streaked reddish highlights in her dark brown hair and gave a golden glow to her olive skin. With the log cabin, the blue sky, the snow-covered forest as a background for her beauty, Elizabeth seemed as much a part of nature's perfection as her surroundings. Her calf-length, rust-colored corduroy skirt swayed in the cool February wind, revealing a pair of flat, plain, tan ankle boots. Her breasts swelled invitingly, not quite straining the buttons on her hunter-green-and-rust-striped blouse. Her baggy green sweater hung down past her generous hips.
Reece forced himself to look away, unable to deny his body's sexual urges. He wanted this woman. She was beautiful and sexy and caring. But who was he kidding? The last thing on Elizabeth Mallory's mind was sex-and it should be the last thing on his mind. All he should be thinking about was getting the hell away from here before the authorities showed up looking for him. He had to find a way to get back to Newell, to hide out until he could discover who had really taken his .38 revolver and blown B. K. Stanton to hell.
MacDatho ran down the steps and into the backyard, the snow coming up to his belly.
'I wouldn't hurt you.' Reece spoke the words in a low, deep voice, not much more than a whisper on the wind.
Elizabeth heard him; her heart heard him. 'I know.'
He saw her shiver, and realized she must be cold. 'Why don't you go back inside? I didn't realize how cold it still was. The sun had me fooled.'
'Are you staying out here?'
'For a few more minutes.' Reece leaned over the porch railing, curling his fingers about the top wooden round.
Elizabeth laid her hand over his where he gripped the railing. When he flinched, she squeezed his hand gently. 'Do you want to tell me about the murder? About what really happened?'
'What really happened was I had a motive for killing Stanton and a lifelong reputation as a town bad boy. Once they arrested me, they stopped looking for any other suspects. That's about it.'
For a split second Elizabeth picked up the intense rage burning inside Reece, then suddenly he shielded his emotions, almost as if he had felt her probing.
'There's a lot more to it than that, isn't there?' Elizabeth asked. 'I want you to know that I'm here for you, willing to listen when you're ready to talk, willing to do whatever I can to help you. I know you can't bear the thought of being caged again.'
He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before, as if she'd appeared out of nowhere, a blithe spirit sent to
