Dealing with Annie

by Jill Shalvis

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “It’s that bad. And worse, every instinct I have is screaming that there’s something wrong, that she’s in some danger—Don’t shake your head on this one, Thomas, I mean it.”

  “I know you do. I even believe you. Shocker, huh?”

  “You do?”

  “Your instincts have saved your sorry ass more than once. If you really think something’s wrong… then something’s wrong.”

  “It is,” Ian said, certain, and sick with it.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know yet, but nothing’s going to happen to her. I won’t fail again.” No way was he going to fail again.

  * * *

  FOR A FEW DAYS ANNIE buried herself in her workshop—researching, designing, developing new products, doing everything in her power to clear her mind.

  She kept Aunt Gerdie busy as well, letting her help with work, getting her to putter around in the house, whatever it took to keep her happy and feeling useful.

  At the moment, she was napping, and Annie was hands deep in a new exfoliating recipe. That made it tricky to answer the door when UPS came. Since she hoped the shipment was the prototypes for the new blusher containers for her spring collection, she stopped what she was doing to take a look. As she cut the box open, she glanced at the return address.

  It was 555 ABC Lane. Obviously a bogus address, and her fingers worked more quickly. Peeling back the packing, she pulled out a lovely box she recognized well.

  It was her own design, a small treasure chest Annie’s Garden used to hold their current bestselling kit. The box was made of clear, pale pink glass with brass fittings. At any department store one could buy the box in the makeup department, filled with three lipsticks, a lengthening mascara, a shimmery eyeliner, powder eyeshadow and a blusher.

  It was filled with those things now as well, only they’d all been crushed before being poured back into the box. Lipstick melted into lipstick, the eyeliner was broken into pieces, the mascara had been opened and smeared over everything, with a fine dust of the eyeshadow powder covering all of it. A purposeful, cruel mess.

  As she stared at it, her fingers fumbled for the bottom of the box, and the note waiting there.

  You’re next.

  “You all right, dear?”

  At the sound of Aunt Gerdie’s voice, Annie forced yet another smile as she slid the crushed makeup under the latest newspaper. Her heart was threatening to burst right out of her chest. “I’m perfectly fine. How was your nap?” She rose and met her aunt halfway, reaching for her hands, studying Gerdie’s face carefully. She looked happy and rested, which took some of the weight off Annie’s shoulders. “You look good.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet.” Aunt Gerdie patted her silvery blue hair. “I just took a call for you.”

  Uh-oh. “I thought we decided you were going to let the machine pick up the house phone, so that you don’t have to worry about taking messages.”

  “Well, I was right there, it seemed so silly not to answer it.”

  Annie struggled to keep her smile in place. The last time Aunt Gerdie had answered the phone, it’d been a sales call, and they’d sold her a lifetime subscription to a fishing magazine.

  Only Aunt Gerdie had never fished a day in her life.

  “Don’t look so worried,” Aunt Gerdie said. “I didn’t buy any more magazines. I didn’t buy anything. It was a reporter for some highfalutin newspaper in the big city. They wanted a response to the articles that have been printed about you.”

  “And you said I wasn’t available at the moment, right?”

  “Of course I did.”

  Annie breathed a sigh of relief, a short-lived one.

  “And then I told her that all those stories were false, that while you didn’t need makeup to enhance your natural beauty, you wore only your own products. Even if working so hard is making you tired, and Jenny is stressing you out, and—”

  “You…told the reporter all this?”

  “She was so sweet. She has a daughter just about your age, and—”

  “Aunt Gerdie.” Annie had a sick feeling in the pit of her belly. The damning comments Gerdie had offered were going to get the paper a lot of mileage, and Annie a lot more stress, but that it had been done in love made it even worse. “Please, please promise me you won’t talk to any more reporters.”

  “Oh. Well, okay.” Aunt Gerdie pulled her hands free. “If that’s what you want, of course I won’t. I was just trying to help, I know how overloaded you are.”

  “You are a big help, in so many ways.” Now she felt like slime for putting that hurt in Aunt Gerdie’s eyes. “Just having you with me lightens my load. So very much.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” Annie hugged her aunt close, wishing she didn’t feel so frail. “You’re so important to me.”

  “You’re important to me, too. But I worry, Annie. You’re not yourself.”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted.

  She only wished she believed it.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ANNIE CALLED UPS. She wanted a trace on the package. She wanted to know exactly where it had come from.

  UPS promised to get back to her, quickly.

  In the meantime, she wasn’t stupid or naive enough to keep this latest development to herself. She called Officer Scott Hunter as well, and filled him in. He drove out to the house and took a report, which was unnerving enough.

  Even more unnerving was the realization that she truly was in trouble. Possibly in danger as well.

  Ian had been right.

  She needed to talk to him, needed to apologize. She needed… Oh, God, the things she needed. And all from him, the man she’d only met just over a week ago. The man she hardly even knew.

  And yet he was the one man who’d made her feel she was more than just a pillar of strength for everyone else around her. He made her feel soft, feminine…sexy.

  She wanted him to take her in his warm, strong arms and make her forget everything, if only for a night.

  Which meant she’d proved his point. Men and women probably shouldn’t be friends. At least not the two of them, as it certainly wasn’t a friend she wanted in her bed.

  Or his.

  Or wherever they ended up.

  She stepped outside and sucked in a breath. It was the tail end of one of those crisp, clear winter days where you needed sunglasses just to lay your eyes on the beauty all around, and a scarf over your mouth to simply breathe in the frigid air.

  For a moment she stood still, soaking it in, the perfect quiet…the startlingly gorgeous landscape… and reminded herself that this, this, was why she’d left the city. That no matter what was happening now, Cooper’s Corner and the people in it fulfilled her, relaxed her, and nothing was going to ruin it.

  It only took a few moments to walk to Thomas’s property, a few glorious moments through the woods that managed to clear her head.

  Ian was on the porch, a cordless phone to his ear.

  “Just tell me what you found out,” he was saying. He sat on the top step, his bad leg out in front of him, the other one bent, supporting his elbow, which in turn supported his head. He wore threadbare jeans and a cable-knit cream-colored sweater. His hair either hadn’t been combed or he’d shoved his fingers through it one too many times. With the shadow on his jaw and the tense expression on his face, he looked a little wild, a little dangerous, and a shiver raced down her spine.

  Until his words sank in.

  “You checked on Stella Oberman, Dennis Anderson and Jenny Boler, right?”

  He was checking on the people in her life. She waited for the anger to boil inside her, but since the crushed makeup delivery, she couldn’t deny being scared, so it seemed a waste of good time to get angry.

  She wanted answers instead. In light of that, she moved forward.

  * * *

  “BEFORE I TELL YOU A THING, I want you to call Cici,” Dean told Ian on
the phone. “Tell her she spoiled you for any other women. That’ll help smooth things over.”

  Ian held back his frustrated sigh. “Fine.”

  “And I want you to put out the word that she dumped you.”

  “Yeah, yeah…now, tell me what you’ve got.”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to promise to introduce me to this Stella creature, because man oh man, is she hot. She’s tall, blond, rich, stacked…and did I say stacked?”

  “She’s also quite possibly a criminal, Dean.”

  “Hey, I’m a cop. I can handle her. Besides, I just want to look at her. She smokes cigars. She eats up men and chews them out for a living, but wow.”

  “The info, Dean.”

  “Jeez, all right. Honestly? Stella’s racked up a list of charges against her over the years—sexual harassment, tax evasion, a hit-and-run driving accident…but interestingly enough, nothing ever stuck.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because her rich daddy bailed her out of everything. But he’s gone now, and she’s keeping her nose clean. At the moment, anyway.”

  “And Dennis?”

  “Jobless. Directionless. Rich. No record. Except…”

  “Except what?”

  “Except guess who he was seen arguing with just outside of Annie’s Garden’s main building recently?”

  “Who?”

  “Annie’s partner.”

  “Jenny Boler?”

  “Yep.”

  Ian’s heart dropped.

  “You’re looking for someone who’d want to hurt Annie, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Annie’s Garden’s reputation has been questioned lately in the papers. Odd coincidence.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Seems maybe someone wants to drag her through the mud. Or several someones.”

  “So it could easily be any of the three of them,” Ian said, and at the soft gasp coming not through the phone line, but in front of him, he lifted his head.

  Annie stood a few feet away in the fading light of the late afternoon, wearing jeans, boots and a long, thick sweater, her hair blowing in the wind, whipping her face as she stared at him, wide-eyed.

  Ah, hell. “I’ll get back to you,” he said, and clicked off. “Annie. I didn’t see you.”

  “I can see that.”

  He struggled to his feet for the storm he had no doubt was about to break over his head, and when he weaved once, she rushed forward and slipped her arms around his waist.

  After a brief hesitation, he returned the favor. “I wasn’t going to fall,” he said, and like a fool, buried his face in her hair because it smelled so good.

  “Where’s your cane?”

  “I left it inside. I’m better.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said so dryly, he had to smile. Not many stood up to him, even fewer told him how they truly felt.

  Annie didn’t hold back. He liked that about her. Liked that a lot.

  “You ever going to tell me about your leg?”

  He lifted his head. “That isn’t quite the line of questioning I expected.”

  She tilted her head up, too, and let her arms drop to her sides. “You were talking about me on the phone.”

  “Now, there’s the line of questioning I expected.”

  She smiled grimly. “You had Stella, Jenny and Dennis checked out.”

  “Is this the part where you take a piece of my hide?”

  “Maybe later. Talk.”

  “You’re not like any woman I’ve ever known.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Stella is trouble.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “She seems threatened by you, and quite frankly, that seems strange.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you know she lives a life a lot harder than her public image allows?”

  “Yes. But that’s her.”

  “And Jenny—”

  “It’s not her,” Annie said firmly. “I refuse to believe that.”

  “She was seen with Dennis.”

  “They know each other, they…” Her smile faded as she crossed her arms around herself, as if she needed comfort desperately. “Okay, that’s a little weird. But Ian…there’s something else, something more.”

  “What?” The light was nearly gone now, and he stepped close again, put his hands back on her. “Tell me,” he pressed.

  “I got a delivery from UPS. One of my own creations, actually. A pretty little box that the fancier department stores sell filled with my makeup. Only all the stuff in it was crushed.” She swallowed hard and met his gaze, her eyes filled with a fear he hadn’t seen before. “There was a note. It says I’m…um, next.”

  “The police—”

  “—I called Scott Hunter. He took a report and the evidence.”

  Ian’s fingers tightened protectively, possessively on her hips. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  She ran her hands up his arms. “Because I came in person instead. I didn’t want to believe you, Ian, that something’s wrong.”

  “But now you do.”

  “I think someone wants to scare me.”

  God, he hoped that was all.

  “And, Ian? It’s working.”

  With a soft oath, he pulled her in, flush to his body, and she set her head on his chest and sighed, breaking his heart and melting it all at the same time. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, sliding a hand into her hair to hold her head. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Against him, Annie shivered.

  “Where’s your jacket?”

  “I forgot it. I needed to see you, Ian.”

  He drew her closer, stroking a hand down her slim spine, meaning only to soothe, but the feel of her did something to him, messed with his head, and his hand slipped even farther.

  She sank hers into his hair.

  “Annie.”

  Slowly she lifted her face up to his. Shifted even closer so that her belly brushed across the front of his jeans.

  His body reacted.

  And then she did the little shimmy again.

  On purpose? He tried to decide, but the daylight had gone completely now and he couldn’t see her clearly. His senses were so keyed up he might have only imagined it—

  Until she did it again, and this time she never took her eyes off his. “I should tell you,” she whispered. “I came here to talk, but…”

  “But…?”

  “But now…I just seem to want to jump your bones.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck, then took a little bite out of him.

  Her words formed, and planted a picture in his head, draining much of his blood for regions south.

  “I want oblivion, I want to forget, I want…” Her mouth danced over his throat. “I want you.” She bit him again, then licked the spot.

  His fingers tightened on her as his body reacted to that.

  “But then I realized…”

  That he was hard as a rock?

  “You said something that stopped me in my tracks.”

  “What?” He’d cut his own tongue out if he had to. “What did I say?”

  “You said we. We’d figure this out.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “We?”

  “What does that have to do with jumping my bones?”

  “Oh, Ian. Don’t you get it? You’re there for me. And I let you be.” Her eyes were lit with marvel. “Not because of what we can do for each other, but just because we like each other. No strings. You do like me,” she said to his helpless smile.

  “I do like you,” he agreed.

  “And you’re there for me,” she repeated softly. “Just you…” She brought his head to hers, matching up their lips, perfectly, softly, so that the knot in his belly tightened, and was joined by a quickening from deep inside his body.

  Then she opened her mouth, danced her tongue to his, and right there on the porch in the deepen
ing evening, his heart nearly stopped.

  Her fingers played in his hair, touched the curve of his ear. She pressed her body closer, lifting up on her tiptoes to gain better access as her mouth plundered.

  His heart did stop then. Their kisses stole whatever sensibility he had left. Her body was petite, curvy and so damn hot beneath his hands, he felt on fire as he touched her.

  She’d said she was looking for oblivion. She wanted to forget, and she wanted him to help her do it. Oh, yeah, casual, mutually satisfying sex was right up his alley. He’d made a career out of it, and he dug in. Her breasts filled his palm, the two hard peaks of her nipples begging for the attention he was dying to give. When he glided his thumbs over them, she let out a sigh of pleasure.

  He was lost. Lost in the little sounds she made when he kissed her, lost in the way his head swam when she slid her tongue in his mouth. Lost in the feel of her…

  “Are we crazy?” she whispered, running her mouth over his jaw so that her teeth could nip his ear.

  He let out a rough moan. “Yeah.”

  “I mean, it’s only been just over a week…I don’t really know you.” She punctuated each word with a hot, wet, openmouthed kiss, making her way down his throat. “Tell me. Please tell me about you.”

  “I like the way you kiss.”

  She laughed breathlessly. “Something about you, Ian.”

  It was hard to think with his mouth full of her delicious skin. He dragged his mouth way down her neck and kissed the pulse racing at the base of her throat.

  “Talk,” she demanded shakily, tossing her head back to give him more room. “Tell me something no one else knows.”

  “Okay…uh…” He struggled to think. “I like the subway, I prefer it over taking a cab.”

  “Something else, something more personal.”

  “I like the way you taste.”

  “Ian.”

  With a sigh, he lifted his head. “You’re serious about this?”

  “Very. Now, talk. You like…”

  “I like…okay, I like big, sloppy heart-on-their-sleeves dogs.”

  “Really?” she breathed, looking so soft and delicious. “That’s so sweet.”

  He waggled a finger. “No. Not sweet. I’m not sweet.”

  “You are so.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t tell Thomas, he’ll think I’m a big softie.”