by Jill Shalvis
“No kidding,” Thomas said. “You’d lose. Look, you’re a workaholic to the point of not having a life. Now there’s a beautiful woman right across the road, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. You nearly broke your neck earlier watching her. So why don’t you try real hard and see if you can come up with something to do with her rather than work. Hand over your gun.”
Ian swore, then reached for the gun he’d had stashed in a shoulder harness beneath his shirt. He slapped it into his brother’s hand.
Thomas set it on the table and put his hand back out.
“What now?” Ian ground out.
“Your knife.”
With an eye roll, Ian bent—and swore again, as that hurt like hell—pulling the knife from his boot. “Happy, Mom?”
“No, since I know you’re still holding back.” He wiggled his fingers. “Don’t make me strip-search you.”
Ian stared at him, then pulled another knife out of his other boot and slammed it into the waiting hand. “Give me a week and I swear, I’m going to kick your ass for this.”
“It’s a date. Now, go smile and make merry with Annie.” Thomas tossed Ian his truck keys. “Think you can drive?”
“Hell yes, because no way are you chaperoning.”
CHAPTER NINE
IAN MANEUVERED HIMSELF carefully down the front steps. At the bottom, he stopped abruptly, eyeing the obstacle standing between him and the truck.
Augustine.
He bared his teeth at her.
She returned the favor, and added that unmistakable I’m-a-pissed-pig noise.
“Not again,” he muttered.
She took a step toward him, snout quivering.
“Look,” he said in a voice that had set the most hardened criminals to whimpering. “Here’s how this is going down. I’m getting into that truck. And you’re not going to stop me.”
Augustine’s eyes narrowed.
He wondered how sharp a pig’s teeth were. “Stay,” he told her, pointing at her as he moved toward the truck.
“I don’t think pigs obey commands the same as dogs” came a laughing female voice.
Annie. She came from around the back of the truck.
He stared at her. “How did you get here so fast?”
“Well good morning to you, too. I walked through the trees, crossed the road, then walked through more trees. It’s not that far.”
“You walked alone through the woods?”
“Thought I’d save you an extra step.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t walk alone.”
“Ian, this is Cooper’s Corner.”
He sighed. “Don’t be naive.”
“Then don’t be grumpy. Or I’ll walk all the way into town.”
“I’m just saying, you know damn well things can happen anywhere. Wasn’t there just a crazy kidnapper running through this place?”
“That was temporary,” she sniffed.
Her hair was down today, long and curly past her shoulders. She was wearing black pants, sans apron, so he could see the material stretching over her curves. Her hooded red sweater beneath her opened fleece jacket was snug and zipped to just between her breasts. The gloss on her lips matched, and suddenly his mouth went dry.
“What?” she asked, and took a step backward, making him realize he’d been staring at her as if she was dessert.
I want to eat your lipstick off. Slowly. “You clean up well.”
“I’d say the same for you, but…” She took in his faded jeans, sweatshirt and denim jacket, all of which had seen better days.
“I was working with Thomas this morning.”
“I can see that. How’s your leg?”
“Fine.”
“You have a real thing for that word, fine.”
“Yeah.” Eyeing the pig, he started toward her.
Augustine stood her ground, nose twitching in anger.
“Interesting watchdog.” Annie squatted down, holding out her hand for the pig.
“Don’t. I’m sure you’re fond of those fingers.”
“Oh, she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Isn’t that right?” she murmured to Augustine. “Aren’t you adorable?”
She was talking baby talk to the ugliest pig who’d ever lived, which made Ian want to growl as loudly as Augustine had. “She’s not adorable, she’s a menace to her race, she—”
That was the last word he got out before his cane came out from beneath him, and to the ground he went, right on his ass.
“Oh! Oh, Ian—” Before he could so much as draw a breath to swear with, Annie was on her knees between his splayed ones, her hands running over his body. “Are you okay? What hurts? Your leg?”
He tried to concentrate on his body, to take stock of what hurt the most, or how the ice was slowly melting into the seat of his jeans, but the truth was, Annie was snuggled between his legs, her hands all over him, and that pretty much worked as a pain blocker.
Her hands cupped his jaw, tilting his face up to hers. And then she put her mouth to his cheek. “It’s okay,” she said. “Just breathe.”
Like he could do that with her lips on him. The way she leaned over him, her long hair brushing his face and arms… Her breasts, right at eye level, jiggled beneath the red sweater.
“Is it your leg?”
Well, now that she reminded him, yeah, it burned like fire. He was fairly certain when the doctor had told him to take it easy, he certainly hadn’t meant for Ian to be slamming himself to the ground. Shifting just a little made it worse and he let out an involuntary hiss of breath.
“Oh, Ian…” She kissed him again, closer to his lips this time. “I should back up, I’m probably hurting you more.”
“No!” He lowered his voice. “You’re fine.”
Her hands slid to his injured thigh. “Give yourself a minute.”
He’d give himself forever if she’d keep climbing all over his body and pressing her mouth to his.
“Does this help?” Gently she started to massage the spot, and he let out another sound, this one of pleasure.
Yes, it helped. God. It’d help even more if she’d move her fingers a few inches up and over. She was soft, warm, and looking at him with such concern and fear it boggled the rest of his working brain cells.
On all fours, she leaned over him in an unintentionally erotic position. And then there was that delicious red sweater she wore. The tie for the hood had pompoms on the ends, and they dangled to the tips of her breasts. He stared at the zipper between them and wondered what would happen if he leaned forward and took the metal between his teeth and tugged.
“Ian?”
Losing his mind completely, he captured her head in his hands and lined up their lips.
She mewled a sexy little surprised murmur.
His fingers tightened on her head and he angled in for a better connection, moaning when she let out another sigh. But after only one mind-melting beat, she pulled back.
Their lips broke contact with a soft suction noise that shot straight between his thighs.
“Better?” she whispered, then licked the lips he’d just been tasting.
“What flavor is your lip gloss, strawberry?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did you hit your head?”
“It tastes like strawberry.”
“Are you hurt?” She eyed him. “You’re not, are you?”
“Don’t be too hasty,” he said. “I could be dying. In fact, I think I am.”
She bit her lower lip between her teeth, regarding him from beneath long, black lashes. “What would it take to make you feel better?”
“I’m thinking another kiss.” He cocked his head and thought about it. “Yep. Definitely another kiss.”
“I thought so.” She got to her feet. “I should have known you were too hardheaded to get really hurt.”
“It wasn’t my head that I fell on,” he complained, and started to struggle to his feet as well.
With a sigh, Annie moved in and slid her arms around him, helping him up. For just a mome
nt, a very weak moment, he clung to her, burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, enjoying the feel of her body all snuggled up to his. “God, you smell good.”
She pulled free, shooting him an indecipherable glance as she got into Thomas’s truck. “It’s a new shampoo.”
“Yours?”
“Of course.”
On the drive into town he decided to concentrate on the slippery roads instead of the scent of her. Instead of the insufferable aching in his leg. Or the absolute silence coming from the other side of the truck.
Her expression was more than a little wary. Her lip gloss was gone, he’d eaten it off her as he’d wanted to do. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Her eyes were a little wide, her hair a little wild.
And just looking at her made him want to kiss her all over again.
“I’m just wondering,” she finally said. “Why you kissed me.”
So, she was direct. Extremely direct. Ian had been around the block with many women, and yet he’d never, not once, been asked why he’d kissed someone.
In fact, usually he was asked for more. “Huh?”
“You heard me.”
He kept his eyes on the road, drove some more, then glanced at her again. “You kissed me first.”
She let out an annoyed sound that assured him he’d given her the wrong answer, crossed her arms tighter and looked straight ahead.
At the service station, he turned off the engine, then pinched the bridge of his nose, but reached for her arm when she would have bolted out of the car. “Okay, you asked me a question,” he said. “And I avoided giving you an answer.”
He received the classic pissy female look. Unable to help himself, he wrapped a strand of her long, dark hair around his finger. “I kissed you because…I like your smile, I like your eyes. I like you, Annie. I like you a lot.”
She looked at him, those eyes softening just a little at his words.
“We just met,” he said. “I know that. I also know you don’t know me and vice versa, but….” He lifted a shoulder and gave her a helpless smile. “I was down, on the ground, hurting, and you made me feel better. Plus, you were close and smelled good…and kissing you just seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“And…” She looked at his mouth. “Now?”
“And now… Ah, hell, Annie. You can’t ask a guy that. You know I want to kiss you again.”
She fiddled with the door handle. “I should probably go get—”
“I’m making you nervous.”
She managed a smile. “Maybe.”
“We can change the subject.”
“Um…okay.”
“Any more threats?”
She blinked. “Some subject change. But, no. No more threats.”
“No crank calls?”
“None.”
“Any more problems at all?”
“Define problems.”
His fingers tightened on her arm and she rolled her eyes. “I’m kidding, Ian. It’s just that my life…” She sighed. “It’s pretty crazy right now.”
“Why?”
“It would take all day to explain.”
He didn’t often meet a woman as reluctant as himself to share her problems, which intrigued him. Most of the women he’d known chattered and pattered on about every little thing. “I’m not in a hurry.”
She weighed that. Considered.
He added a smile, wanting to pass muster, and having no idea why. “Come on. I’m a good listener.”
“Maybe I’m not a good talker.”
“Why?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess I’m used to being needed, not the other way around. I’m not very good at leaning on someone.”
“I’m a pretty solid post.”
She smiled but said nothing more.
“Is it Aunt Gerdie?”
She looked out the window.
“Is it someone else in your family?”
“There is no one else.”
That was interesting. And sad. He wanted to know more, but now wasn’t the time with her so closed off to him. “Is it…work?”
“It’s a little of everything,” she said. “But mostly work. I think my partner wants to sell.”
“Work has a tendency to bring out the worst in someone.”
“Really? Tell me about yours.”
That was the last thing he wanted to do, tell her he was a DEA agent who’d let himself get shot, who’d let the bad guy get away, and who’d gotten himself put on a mandatory month’s leave because he couldn’t handle a desk job. Big loser all around. “Discussing work isn’t allowed when you’re on vacation.”
She gave him a long look, which he ignored. “So what are you going to do about Annie’s Garden?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want things to change. I don’t know what’s right.”
He let loose the strand of hair he’d wrapped around his finger. It bounced up against her cheek in a spiral curl. He stroked it away, fascinated with the softness of her skin beneath the pad of his finger. “You should always go with what’s important to you,” he said quietly. “Don’t compromise. Don’t ever compromise.”
She let out a shaky smile. “You sound as if you’re speaking from experience.”
“I am.” But since he didn’t want to go there, he got out of the truck. She did the same.
And a few minutes later, she drove out of the service station ahead of him, in her own car with the new tires, heading toward the rest of her life.
Let it go. Let her go. He’d done a fairly good job of it so far, having refrained from asking if Dennis had called her again. Or if her partner would have any reason to want to hurt her.
Yes, he’d done a fine job of letting it all go.
Of letting her go.
And yet he still followed her home. He didn’t have a choice, they were going in the same direction, or so he told himself. Yep, same route…all the way to the two mailboxes where it had all started.
She turned left, and he would turn right. Only he found himself veering left….
And following her.
CHAPTER TEN
ANNIE DROVE UP HER DRIVEWAY, desperately needing to regroup from the ride with Ian, from…the kiss.
What had that been, anyway?
Yes, it’d been damn good, but was she, after only days, interested in him in that way? Oh, yes. That hadn’t taken her five days to figure out, just one look had decided it.
The question now was…what was she going to do about it?
At the top of her driveway, she turned off her engine, grabbed her purse…and realized there was a squad car parked next to her. A uniformed man got out, then opened the back passenger door.
For Aunt Gerdie.
As Annie registered this, a truck pulled in behind her.
Ian.
And any hope of regrouping at all flew right out the window.
She recognized the tall, muscular officer as Scott Hunter, the man who’d taken the report yesterday over her tires. He was also the same officer who’d brought Aunt Gerdie home the last time she’d gone out shopping and had forgotten how to get home.
Ignoring Ian—Annie didn’t have the brain cells left to deal with everything at once—she turned to face Scott, who was walking toward her.
He smiled, though it was a grim one. “We had a little problem in Josie’s Boutique this morning.”
“What happened?”
Scott lowered his voice for her ears only. “She got Bonnie to pick her up and drive her into town. At Josie’s, she put on a scarf and tried to leave. The only issue being that the cashmere scarf was worth about a hundred bucks and she hadn’t paid for it yet.”
“Is she okay?” Annie asked, and when Scott nodded, she moved toward the squad car, where Aunt Gerdie was just getting out.
Ian was already there, a hand at her elbow, smiling down at the older woman as she straightened her coat. He was murmuring something to her, making her smile sweetly and pat his h
and.
“Oh, hello, dear,” Aunt Gerdie said when she saw Annie. “Your nice young man was kind enough to help me. How are you doing, you look a little peaked.”
“I’m fine, Aunt Gerdie, it’s you I’m worried about.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m healthy as a horse.”
“I’m talking about you going into town. The store incident.”
“Oh, that.” Aunt Gerdie’s smile faded from her eyes. “Well, I figured I’m not that old, I can go where I please.”
“Of course you can, but I’m willing to take you into town whenever you’d like, you know that. Anywhere, anytime.”
“Yes, but you weren’t here.”
Because I was already in town, she started to say, but gave up. There was no arguing with Aunt Gerdie. “What happened in the store?”
“I went shopping for after-Christmas sales. It’s January. Everything is on special right now, you know.”
“Sales are good,” Annie agreed, knowing how her aunt loved a bargain.
“And then, and I’m not quite sure how because I really thought I’d put the scarf back on the shelf, I ended up outside with it—” She brought her shaky fingers up to her lips. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry for the trouble.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” Reaching out, Annie pulled her close, swallowing both her fear and the lump in her throat as she hugged her aunt tight. “You’re home safe and sound now.” Over Gerdie’s head, she met Ian’s steady gaze. He cocked his head toward Scott and she nodded.
He walked toward the officer, his gait easy and steady. As she watched, the two men started talking.
Annie sighed, because she didn’t have time for the romance her body was seemingly yearning for, and even if she did, the tall, edgy, mysterious Ian McCall wasn’t the man for her. “Let’s go inside,” she said to Aunt Gerdie. “I’ll get you some tea.”
“With lemon?”
“With lemon,” Annie assured her, and led her up the stairs, taking one last look at the two men next to the squad car.
Ian was nodding, his eyes, his expression, everything about his long, lean body tense and battle-ready. Then, at the same moment, each of them glanced up at her.
And she understood they were no longer talking about Aunt Gerdie.
They were talking about her.
* * *