Silent Fall

noticed."
    "I’m going for a walk before I do something I regret."
    "You wouldn’t regret it," he told her.
    She smiled. "You’re not short on confidence, are you?"
    "We’d be good together. Just remember you’re the one who ran away, not me. I’m not scared of you."
    "Not yet," she murmured before slipping out the door.
    Dylan let out a breath as she left the room, feeling frustrated and yet a little relieved that she was gone. He was attracted to her. What man wouldn’t be? But, dammit, no matter what he’d told her, the truth was that she did scare him. He liked casual relationships, fun in the sack, nobody saying I love you , or Don’t leave me . He couldn’t give a woman anything more than a good time. And he’d never pretended otherwise.
    Intimacy was almost impossible for him. The only person he’d ever cared about was Jake. He’d tried to love his father, but he’d had the love beaten out of him. And his mother... well, she hadn’t stuck around long enough for anyone to love her. He was just like her, he thought. At least, that was what his father had told him over the years, so much so that he’d come to believe it.
    He rolled his head on his shoulders, hearing his joints crack from the tension. He was tired, but there was no time to rest. He had to find Erica. He had to get himself out of this mess before it got worse. But as he focused on his computer he knew that he was in quicksand and sinking fast. He just hoped Catherine hadn’t gone far. He suspected he was going to need her help to get out.
    * * *
    Catherine had intended to settle herself in one of the chairs on the outside deck overlooking the lake, but once she got there she was too restless to sit. Bypassing the deck she headed toward the path, the one Dylan had taken with Erica the night before. Maybe she could pick up on something if she followed the same trail.
    As she walked, she mentally retraced her conversation with Dylan. She certainly hadn’t meant to tell him she wanted to have sex with him. She had a tendency to blurt out her thoughts without editing them first, and this had definitely been one of those times. And her words had been like throwing a red flag in front of a bull. If she hadn’t left the room, she and Dylan would probably be rolling around in the sheets right now. That thought gave her libido a nice little jolt.
    Despite the fact that she’d told Dylan she thought sex was easy, she knew that sex with Dylan would be anything but easy. He would ask too much of her. He would demand more than she wanted to give.
    So she would keep her distance -- until she couldn’t.
    Continuing down the path, she focused her mind on Erica. She’d barely looked at her the night before, but the woman’s image was ingrained in her brain. Why had Erica lured Dylan out to these woods? Had she wanted to get him away from the lodge so she could fake her disappearance? Her public appearance in the bar had certainly set the stage for everyone to see her leaving with Dylan.
    When the concrete walkway ended, Catherine continued into the woods. Dylan said they’d walked a fair distance from the lodge, so she would keep going, see what else was out here. The lodge and adjacent cabins were the only buildings on the hillside for at least a mile or two in either direction. Part of the appeal lay in the rustic nature of the location. The isolation had certainly made it easier for Erica to get Dylan into an area where no one would see what was going on. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t gone to him in San Francisco and instead had waited for the opportunity to get him away from his home turf.
    As she hiked Catherine began to grow warm, and she pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows. The noonday sun was beaming down through the trees. It was a pretty day, the kind of day when summer seemed around the corner, a day when only good things should happen. But as she moved farther into the thick forest, she began to feel nervous. Was she picking up on what had occurred the day before, or were the sudden shadows sparking her active imagination?
    The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood up. She swung around quickly, expecting to see someone behind her. Had Dylan followed her?
    There was no one, and yet she felt as if someone were watching her.
    Every sound became acutely loud: the snap of a twig, a rustle in the brush, the sudden squawk of a bird