TRIGGERED: A Romantic Suspense Bundle (5 Books)

by Evie Nichole

  As he filled his glass once more, Jareth came up beside him and jumped up so that his two front paws rested on the kitchen island. Derek took a few mouthfuls of the foul-tasting wine before he glanced down to meet the dog’s eyes.

  “I fed you already. I remember distinctly because it’s kind of gross to watch you eat.”

  Jareth whined and padded his hind legs over the tiles.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed in the kitchen.”

  Jareth rested his head on Derek’s arm and looked up at him with wide, brown eyes. He managed to hold out for three minutes before going to the pantry in search of some kind of dog treats. While it shouldn’t have been possible, Jareth radiated smugness. After a half-hearted search, during which he finished his fresh glass of wine, Derek came to the conclusion that this was as good as reason as any to pay Harbour another visit.

  He had never had what could be referred to as a tolerance for boredom. And what limited resistance he did have had been quickly weathered away by a restless urge to have someone to talk to. So he topped up his glass again and ascended the stairs, Jareth trailing along behind him.

  Candlelight wafted under the door, carried with the slightest hint of steam. How had she not burned herself? He shook his head and leaned against the doorjamb.

  “Hey, Harbour.”

  There was no annoyed but amusing snap, or the sound akin to a cat behind being exposed to water. He tilted his head closer to the door and tried again.

  “Harbour?”

  Silence.

  “It’s rude to ignore people.”

  His eyes skirted to her bedroom door. It was opened and exposed the darkened room. She wasn’t in there. And she couldn’t have gotten down the stairs without him seeing. Was she hurt? There was that loud slosh of water earlier. It would have been easy for her to slip.

  “Harbour.”

  Silence.

  He shifted on his feet. Had they locked the doors? The house was small but someone could have gotten in. He might not have heard them over the storm. Rolling his shoulders, Derek glanced down the hall. They hadn’t checked the rooms. It would have been easy for someone to hide in one of the guest rooms andwait until it was quiet.

  He tried to push the thought aside as he called out for her again. She hadn’t done this before. She always answered. Whenever he called her, she answered. But now there was only silence.

  “Harbour, if you don’t say something I’m coming in.”

  The doorhandle was cool against his palm and he pressed his ear to the door. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the rain.

  “Harbour!”

  Nothing. He twisted the knob and it held firm. Hadn’t she said that it wasn’t locked? His breath hitched and he threw his shoulder against the door. The thin wood cracked on the second try and he staggered into the room just as Harbour sat upright in the tub.

  Suds clung to her face, stinging her eyes as she tried to open them. Each breath was a pained cough of bathwater that shook her shoulders with the force. Derek snatched a handtowel off of a rack and knelt down next to her, wiping the soft fabric over her eyes.

  “Are you kidding me?” she sputtered.

  “What happened?”

  “No, that is not your question. That is my question.” She snatched the cloth out of his hand and swiped it quickly over her face. “What part of one hour is difficult for you?”

  “You didn’t answer.”

  “Answer what?”

  He sat back on his knees and threw one hand out to the door. “I called for you. Three times. You didn’t answer.”

  “I was under the water,” she snapped. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Yeah, I get that now,” he spat back with just as much venom.

  “So when you don’t get an immediate response your first thought is to break my door?”

  “I thought you were hurt,” he snarled.

  Harbour blinked at him, her anger and shock dwindling. Concern must have still lingered on his face, mixed in with layers of his mounting embarrassment, but he didn’t try to hide either. Instead, he rested his forearms on the bathtub rim and glanced over his shoulder.

  He sighed. “What’s the password for the WiFi?”

  “I don’t think I’m ready to take that step in our relationship.”

  Derek truly appreciated the attempt at humour, but couldn’t think of any smartass way to respond.

  “How else am I supposed to look up YouTube clips on how to fix a busted door?”

  “I know how to fix it. But you’re doing the labor.”

  Using his stubble to scratch an itch on his forearm, he looked up at Harbour. He wasn’t tempted to see just how well those bubbles covered her, but his attention did drift to the rise and fall of her chest. No matter how incredibly stupid he felt, it was worth it to just see her breathing.

  “You were really that worried?”

  “I guess I’m a bit on edge,” he said. “And I’ve had over half a bottle of wine on an empty stomach.”

  “Yeah, I see the discards staining the hallway runner.”

  “I’ll clean that up.”

  “You can’t get red wine out of carpet.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Then I’ll lay down some carpet.” A startled chuckle escaped him at the soft blush that crossed her cheeks. She was sitting naked in front of him but poorly alluded to double means still got a reaction? “But I’ll need the WiFi code.”

  “Go to the library.”

  “Libraries still exist?”

  “Derek,” she said softly.

  He smiled and settled his chin onto his folded arms. “Yeah?”

  “Get out!”

  The sudden snap made Jareth jump and let out a startled yelp. Derek smiled and snatched up her discarded glass.

  “Food will be here soon.” He had just ducked into the hallway when she called him back. “Hum?”

  “Aren’t you going to close the door?”

  He glanced to the hunk of wood and then back at her, for the first time noticing how the candlelight turned her damp skin gold.

  “No, you’ve lost the privilege.”

  “Derek!”

  He finished her glass in one gulp and waved at her with the empty glass. “Next time, pay more attention to me.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Harbour still couldn’t believe that he had actually broken down the door. Sure, there was a bit of annoyance, but she was far more concerned that the events of last night had affected him in a far more profound way than he was letting on. He had broken the door down. Before he even thought to try knocking. But still, it was a little nice to know, in the event of some mysterious happening or bath-related threat to her life, Derek was willing to break a door.

  A wolf whistle caught her attention as she neared the bottom of the staircase. She looked up to see Derek resting his forearms on the kitchen island, the wine bottle fitting between his fingers as his eyes took in her flannel nighty.

  “How are you single?” he asked with no small degree of mocking.

  “I don’t go running around town in my nightgown,” she snapped. “And it’s comfortable.”

  “And gives you all the curves of a Popsicle stick,” he smirked.

  “Well, luckily, I’m not trying to impress you.”

  “I think we should have an intervention,” he said. “You obviously have a plaid obsession.”

  “Sure, we’ll have that right after you explain your unhealthy interest in my clothing choices.”

  His chuckle was loose and soft and had the unmissable edge of someone who was tittering between tipsy and drunk. Harbour moved forward and easily slipped the wine from his hands. Getting to see Derek tipsy could actually be fun. Dealing with a heavily intoxicated 170-pound man, less so. The bottle was empty and she added it to the recycling with a little sigh.

  “Sorry,” he pouted. “I did offer you a second glass, if you recall.”

  “It’s fine,” she said as she opened the fridge. The first few days
of the end of season were an indulgence. She never touched a drop of liquor during the season, and always looked forward to the freedom of no responsibilities. “There are a few beers left.”

  As she pulled a can out of the ring of the six pack, she noticed that one was missing. He was definitely tipsy. Before she could comment, however, a wall of warmth slipped up behind her. Derek pressed right along her spine, crowding in until Harbour felt him on every inch of her back.

  Her mind stuttered, only regaining ground when he propped his chin on the top of her head and still tried to talk. The result was a mumbled slur of words that greatly diminished any flush she had felt.

  “I ordered a Pinot Noir, if you want to wait.”

  “I’m more of a beer girl. Red wine, if I stray.”

  “I figured,” he smiled as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Pinot Noir is made of red wine grapes, and it goes better with seared scallops.”

  His fingers spread out across her stomach, seeking out the heat that pulsed from her bath-warmed skin. Harbour straightened, stunned into silence as Derek breathed deep, his nose nudging at her hair.

  “You smell nice,” he hummed.

  “Okay,” her voice cracked as she lifted his hand and tried to slip out from under his grip. “Why don’t you just find something to watch?”

  Derek gently caught her chin, lifted her face, and caught her gaze. Wine or not, his eyes still carried a sharp intensity within the hazel rings. A smile slowly stretched his mouth as he dragged his thumb over her bottom lip.

  “Can’t I just watch you?”

  All the air escaped Harbour’s lungs in one solid rush. His smile grew almost predatory at the sound and he edged closer still. The sudden sound of his laughter cracked through the room and his whole body shook from it.

  “Harbour, you are so easy. Where are your DVDs at?”

  He hurried off, leaving Harbour to lean against the fridge in an attempt to keep upright. Well, suddenly a lot of things made sense. If Derek could look so damn appealing without even throwing in any effort, she couldn’t imagine what he was capable of when he set his mind to it. He hadn’t even done anything, not really. Just lowered his voice and batted his eyes and she had suddenly lost her kneecaps.

  The air from the open fridge grew uncomfortable against her back and she quickly shut it. Derek was in the small living room, sitting cross-legged by the T.V. and marvelling over how they still had a VHS player. Each time he found a tape he wanted to comment on, he would hold it up for Jareth to sniff at. He laughed and smiled broadly, playfully pushing at the dog to coax a reaction. His sudden lapse into childlike behaviour was far more endearing that it should have been.

  The doorbell rang and Derek snapped around, all traces of ease and vulnerability gone. He met her eyes like they were a second away from a police raid. With a wave that she hoped was reassuring, Harbour grabbed her wallet and headed for the front door. Derek got up with a loud clatter and hurried to catch up with her. She flicked on the outside light as Derek peeked out of the side window.

  “It’s the taxi driver.”

  “I assumed as much,” she said as gently as she could and opened the door. He had paid for lunch, so she figured it was her turn.

  The second she opened the door, the cold wind rushed inside, bringing with it some misting rain and the scent of scallops and roasted potatoes. Her stomach rumbled at the smell and the taxi driver laughed.

  “Hey, Harbour.”

  “Jeff.”

  “Guess I’m just in time.”

  “Definitely,” she smiled.

  Derek pressed closer to her side and snatched away the plastic bags.

  “Thanks,” the word rumbled in his throat and Jeff quickly shifted his gaze back to Harbour.

  Harbour handed over a few extra bills as a tip and hoped that Derek had finished whatever the hell is was doing. Jeff smiled awkwardly and snapped his fingers.

  “Almost forgot,” he said as held up a bottle of wine.

  Once again, Derek snatched it off of him.

  “Good to see ya, man,” Jeff said. “Sorry about your house.”

  “Yeah. You too.”

  “Right,” Jeff said slowly before backing up. “See ya later, I guess.”

  Derek flashed a brilliant smile and slammed the door shut, throwing the lock on with far more energy that was necessary. Without a word he spun around and hurried back into the house. By the time Harbour caught up with him, Derek was once again sitting in front of the TV, the bags on the coffee table behind him and his attention back on the tape collection. Jareth was once again with him, however, this time he seemed far more interested in the mystery items within the bags.

  Harbour sighed, gather a few plates, cutlery, and a bottle opener and headed into the living room. He was back to acting like a kid at a slumber party, all hints of aggression completely gone. He smiled at her as she sat down on the sofa and began to open the bags.

  “Why do you have so many documentaries?”

  “Because that’s what our guests like to watch.”

  He shrugged and went back to looking through his options. Dinner was a simple assortment of scallops and roast vegetables, but it looked amazing, smelled fantastic, and still had trails of steam rising from it. She dished it out, her mouth already watering, and cast Derek another glance.

  “I thought you liked Jeff.”

  “Hum?”

  “Jeff,” she said and began to work on the cork off the wine bottle. “I thought you guys were friends at school.”

  “I didn’t mind him.”

  “That’s not the impression you just gave.”

  Derek glanced up at her. “I gave an impression?”

  “Not a good one.” The cork pulled free with a solid pop and she realized that she hadn’t brought over any glasses.

  He smiled and made a gimme gimme motion with his hand. She passed him the bottle and he swallowed three mouthfuls before handing it back. What the hell, she shrugged, and took a mouthful herself. Apparently, this was the amount of interest he was willing to give the conversation and he went back to looking through the video tapes.

  Harbour settled into the silence and began to eat her meal. She jumped when Derek let out a loud whoop of victory and hurriedly inserted a tape. With more grace than he should have had, he stood up, leapt over the coffee table, and tumbled onto the sofa next to her.

  “I can’t believe you’ve got this.” Practically giddy with excitement, he snatched up his plate and threw a leg over her lap. “I admit, for a bit there, I had great concerns over your tastes.”

  She flicked on the TV and laughed when the menu screen came up.

  “Classic Dracula?”

  “Well, it’s just called Dracula,” Derek mumbled as he discarded his cutlery and picked up the scallop with his hands. “Bela Lugosi owns this role.”

  He popped the scallop into his mouth and languidly sucked the juices from his fingers. It was hard to ignore the almost lewd way he curled his tongue around each of his digits. His eyes never left the screen as the black and white film started with a blare of dramatic music. Derek rolled his hips, sinking further into the sofa as he balanced the plate on his thigh.

  “Oh, snap,” Harbour said. “You’re into gothic horror?”

  Derek glanced at her. “I have respect for classical cinema that investigates the complex relationship and philosophy mankind has concerning monsters, either real or imagined. And Vincent Price is the bomb.”

  “Are all your favourites black and white?”

  “They got the hang of color before they started to suck,” he said defensively before he began to munch on a potato.

  “Not what I expected,” she said.

  He rose his eyebrows, “What did you expect?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Derek smiled as he licked the salt and oil off of the pad of his thumb.

  “Well, the movie has started, so shut up.”

  She smirked and picked up the wine bottle again. “C
harmer.”

  ***

  By the time the credits began to roll, Derek had settled into the perfect balance of buzzed and sleepy. His stomach was full, the sofa was comfortable, and with Harbour and the throw rug he had reached the perfect temperature. Halfway through the movie he had stretched out, pillowing his head on the armrest and draping his legs across Harbour’s lap.

  At first she had been oddly tense by the contact, but had eventually relaxed into it and was now practically melted against the couch. It was a perfect moment, one that soothed his mind and eased the ache that had been twisting him up all day.

  “I don’t suppose you have the original Frankenstein.”

  “I vaguely remember something about a house on a hill with a really bad skeleton special effect.”

  “House on Haunted Hill?”

  “I think that was it.”

  “Well, pop it on, woman.” He gave her a playful nudge if only to get her to scowl at him.

  She pushed his feet off of her. “Fine. You find snacks.”

  The world shifted as he got to his feet. Maybe he had drunk a bit more than he had thought. Still, he staggered on and began to rummage through the pantry. Jareth got up, stretched lazily, and came over to beg for food. As Derek crouched down to give the sleepy mutt some attention, a new video began. He looked up to see Harbour watching him.

  “What?” he grinned and resumed his search.

  “I never knew you liked dogs so much.”

  He chuckled. “I’m just giving him a scratch.”

  “I meant your tattoo. You gotta like them in order have one forever etched into your skin.”

  With a bag of corn chips in hand, he kicked the pantry door closed and shuffled over.

  “Is that what it is?”

  “You don’t know?”

  She was already hogging the blanket and had the wine bottle at hand. He flopped onto the couch and draped his arm over the back.

  “I’ve been told dog, wolf, and coyote.”

  “Well, which one was it supposed to be?”

  He shrugged and she sputtered around her mouthful of wine.