by Lara Lacombe
“I could trim the ends for you. Until you can get a real haircut.”
Micah shut off the water and reached for a towel. He turned to face her, drying his hands as he moved. “Really?” He sounded curious, as if he was seriously contemplating her offer. Bea felt a momentary panic—what did she know about trimming hair?—but pushed it aside, nodding in what she hoped was a confident manner.
“You really wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. It’ll only take a minute.” I think. She was quickly moving out of her depth, but how hard could it be to trim the ends of his hair? Bea had watched her stylist in the mirror during her own cuts, and it didn’t look all that complicated.
“That would be great. It’s been bugging me to have it so long.”
“I can take care of it now, if you want. Do you have a pair of scissors I can use?”
Micah nodded. “I’ll be right back.” He walked out of the kitchen, and Bea sagged against the counter.
“What are you thinking?” she muttered to herself. She didn’t know the first thing about giving a man a haircut. More importantly though, she was now going to have to touch Micah. To run her hands through his hair, to lean in close and smell his scent as she worked.
Idiot. Why couldn’t she have just kept her mouth shut and let him do what he wanted? It probably would have been better for her in the long run if he had shaved his head—she’d always loved his hair, and if it was gone, maybe her attraction would wane.
“Probably not, though,” she whispered. Micah was the total package, and her love for him wasn’t conditional upon a single feature.
She heard him rummaging through drawers, likely in search of the scissors. No backing out now. She was going to have to do this. Did she have time to search for a quick tutorial online? Bea reached for her phone, but the sound of Micah’s footsteps grew louder as he approached.
Okay, she thought, taking a deep breath. This isn’t rocket science. And the nice thing about hair is that it grows back.
Micah appeared in the doorway, a towel slung over his shoulders and a pair of scissors in his hand. “I was thinking the back porch would be best. That way we don’t have any cleanup.”
Bea smiled and nodded, as if this was her usual arrangement. She followed him outside into the cool night air and waited while he sat on a chair and arranged the towel around himself like a short cape. The porch light cast everything in a sulfurous yellow glow, making the moment seem even more surreal.
She took the scissors from him, then reached out and ran her fingertips through the hair on the back of his head, combing it over the edge of the towel. It was just as soft as she remembered. A sigh rose in the back of her throat but she bit her bottom lip before it could escape.
After a moment’s hesitation, she began to cut. Small, uncertain snips at first that barely took anything off. Then she grew bolder, daring to actually cut into the length. One curled wisp fell to the ground, followed quickly by another. The job grew easier as she worked, the tension in her muscles draining away as she realized she’d have to really try to mess things up.
Her focus began to drift as she ran her fingers through his hair. Memories of their time together washed over her, making her melt inside. Even though there was nothing sexual about this situation, Bea felt a little thrill at the knowledge that a physically powerful man was submitting to her touch. Micah had always been bigger and stronger, but his time in the military had turned his body into a lean, hard instrument. She’d felt the solid muscle of his chest pressed against her curves when he’d held her earlier, and the memory heated her blood. Too bad she wouldn’t get to see the changes in his body for herself.
“How’s it going?” His deep voice held a note of curiosity but not concern. He trusted her, and the knowledge was both humbling and exciting.
“Almost done,” she replied. Bea could spend all night lingering with her hands on him, but she knew she needed to wrap things up before he grew suspicious. Normal haircuts didn’t take long, and she was only giving him a trim. He probably wouldn’t appreciate the extra attention, especially from her.
As if on cue, a pang of longing speared her heart. She pushed it aside and focused on her hands again. Finish the job, she told herself. And if she happened to run her fingers through his hair more than was strictly necessary? Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.
She brushed at his shoulders, gathering more sense memories she could take out and examine later, once she was alone. Knowing she couldn’t stall any longer, she gathered the ends of the towel and flung it away from him, shaking the loose hair into the yard.
“All done,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t detect the note of disappointment in her voice.
No such luck. “You okay?”
She turned to find him standing, his large hands brushing at his hair and shoulders. Bea offered him a smile. “Yeah. Just hoping you like your new cut.”
Micah touched the tips of his ears, then the back of his neck. “Feels good to me.” He smiled warmly and, after a second’s hesitation, stepped forward and gave her a gentle hug.
Bea closed her eyes as his arms wrapped around her. Time seemed to stop as she soaked up the feel of him, his scent and warmth enveloping her in a familiar, comforting embrace. She knew he meant to keep the hug impersonal and friendly, but her body didn’t care. Heat suffused her limbs until she thought she might melt against him.
He pulled away, leaving her cold. Tears stung her eyes and she looked down, blinking hard so Micah wouldn’t notice. She felt him studying her, probably wondering why she was acting so strangely.
“It’s my bedtime,” she announced with false cheer. She tried to step around his big body, but Micah held out an arm, blocking her path to the door.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re upset about something?”
She tried to wave away his concern, but he wasn’t having it. “Are you worried about your store? Or about the case? I promise, we’ll get to the bottom of this soon.”
Bea seized on the excuse and nodded vigorously. “I just hope none of the dresses were ruined during the cleaning process. I’m sure they’re all fine, but I’ll feel better once I examine everything tomorrow morning.”
Micah dropped his arm, but she could see the glint of skepticism in his green eyes and knew he didn’t really believe her. Still, he didn’t block her as she moved toward the door.
“You’ve always been a bad liar, Bea.” His voice was soft, less of a challenge and more of an observation. She spun around to face him, anger building in her chest as she stared at his back. How dare he question her? He’d given up all claim on her secrets when he’d sent that letter, breaking her heart into a million tiny pieces. And now he wanted to pretend he cared about what was bothering her?
Fine, she thought darkly. You asked for it.
“You want to know what’s wrong?” Her throat was tight with emotion, but she forced the words out.
Micah turned to face her, his expression unreadable. “I asked, didn’t I?” His voice was even, as if he was trying to control his temper. His oh-so-reasonable tone only fueled her agitation, making her even more reckless.
“Here you go, then. I’ve missed you. I still miss you. How do you like that?” She threw her arms out to the side and took a little bow. It felt good to finally say the words out loud, to truly acknowledge her emotions. She didn’t know what was going to happen now, but it was nice to cast off the burden of pretending that she was unaffected by his presence.
Micah froze, his big body going stiff before her eyes. Bea shook her head and laughed. The sound was harsh in the night air, and for a second, the crickets stopped chirping their evening song. “Not what you were expecting to hear, was it?”
A kaleidoscope of emotions paraded across Micah’s face: shock, disbelief and something that might have been joy. Bea waited a moment, wanting to hear his response. When it beca
me clear he didn’t have anything to say, she walked past him toward the door. Her stomach churned, her anger quickly morphing into embarrassment. Way to go, she thought. Once again, she’d opened herself up to Micah, handing him another opportunity to hurt her. When will you learn?
He didn’t try to stop her as she breezed by. But just as her hand landed on the doorknob, his voice cut through the silence.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
She lost her grip on the knob and turned slowly, hardly daring to believe her ears. “What?” Had he really just said that, or had her brain simply conjured up the words she most wanted to hear?
Micah shot her an angry glare, his green eyes alight with temper. “You heard me.”
Bea’s heart rate kicked up a notch as she watched him stalk closer. His body practically vibrated with emotion, making him seem somehow bigger than usual. He eyed her up and down, like a predator searching for weakness in its chosen prey. But Bea wasn’t afraid. Anticipation flared in her belly, sending a tingling sensation through her limbs. The fine hairs on her arms and neck rose to attention, and her skin felt hypersensitive, as if the lightest kiss of air would cause her body to ignite.
“I missed you every day while I was at boot camp. Every night in that godforsaken desert. And all the hours in between.” The words were clipped and tight, verbal knives he threw at her with abandon. He stopped when his body was inches from hers, and Bea felt the heat pouring off him.
“I thought I’d eventually forget you. But I didn’t.” She heard a note of disappointment in his voice, an echo of her own regret for never getting over him.
“And now, after all these years, here you are. A part my life again.”
Bea bristled at the implied accusation that she had somehow orchestrated their reunion. “I didn’t ask to be attacked,” she said icily. “I didn’t ask for you and your dog to find me.”
“No, you didn’t,” he murmured. “You just turned those wide hazel eyes on me and acted like I was some kind of savior. Like I was the only one who could keep you safe.”
“I’m only human, Micah,” she snapped. “I saw you when my guard was down. I let my emotions take over.”
He nodded and leaned forward. “Now it’s my turn.”
Before Bea could even blink, Micah cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter 8
What are you doing?
The thought popped into Micah’s head as soon as his lips met Bea’s, but he ignored the question. He was operating on pure emotion; reason held no sway over him now.
Bea’s admission had shocked him. Never in a million years had he expected to hear that she missed him. Joy had flooded his system as her words had sunk in, followed quickly by anger. How dare she say that, after all this time? She’d made her choice years ago—was he supposed to feel grateful that she had somehow changed her mind and wanted him again?
Her expression had given him no clue as to what she’d expected him to say. Truth be told, she didn’t appear happy. Bea hadn’t acted like a woman who was eager for a reunion, all coy glances and blushing smiles. If anything, she had hurled the words at him, as if she blamed him for her emotions.
Like this was his fault.
He hadn’t been the one to break things off. And if she thought that her little confession was going to send him into paroxysms of gratitude, she was mistaken. Micah wasn’t going to simply fall at her feet. If he decided to give her another chance, it was going to be on his terms.
The kiss was punishing, more of a reclaiming than a reunion. Micah poured all of his emotions into the connection, his frustration, anger and confusion making him feel a little desperate, a little reckless. He nipped at Bea’s lips with his teeth—not so hard as to hurt her, but rough enough to make it clear this was not going to be an uncomplicated reconciliation.
In the dim recesses of his brain, a muted alarm sounded.
Dial it back. It’s too much, too soon.
Micah’s self-control began to reboot, and he relaxed a bit. Despite his intense emotions, he didn’t want to frighten Bea.
He needn’t have worried. She gave as good as she got, kissing him back with a ferocity to match his own.
One hand gripped his biceps, squeezing tightly as she tangled her tongue with his. Her other hand roamed across his chest, her fingers digging into his muscles. The fabric of his shirt muted the scratch of her nails, but the sensation was enough to ignite a fire of need in his lower belly.
He backed her up against the door, ignoring Chunk’s startled woof! from inside the house. He slipped his hands under Bea’s arms and lifted her body, putting their mouths into better alignment. She locked her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders, a low moan emerging from deep in her throat.
The sound cut through the fog of his arousal and Micah snapped back to reality, his head clearing in an instant. His body clamored for more—more contact, more access to Bea’s soft skin and her intoxicating smell. It had been ages since he’d held a woman in his arms, longer still since he’d been with Bea. It would be so easy to forget about the past and live in the moment, to take her inside and slake his lust until they were both tired and sweaty and spent.
Certain parts of his body rejoiced at the thought, but his heart wasn’t on board with that plan. As much as he wanted Bea, and he did want her—his need for her was so great it was almost painful—he couldn’t take her into his bed until he knew he could trust her. He’d tried before to keep his emotions out of the bedroom, but he wasn’t that kind of man. He needed to feel an emotional and intellectual connection to a woman before he seduced her, and he couldn’t simply dismiss all the unfinished business between himself and Bea just so he could scratch a physical itch.
He pulled away slowly, easing out of the kiss. Bea looked up at him with a question in her eyes, her lips swollen and parted.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have done that. I, uh...” He shook his head and took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I just need some time to think.”
Bea’s expression cleared and she nodded. Micah watched as her guard snapped back into place, transforming her from the passionate woman of a moment ago into a polite stranger once again. “That’s a good idea. For both of us.”
She unhooked her ankles and he gently lowered her until her feet hit the ground. He stepped back, putting more space between them. The gesture was for his benefit as much as hers. Despite his logical words, his body still pulsed with heat and desire. If he didn’t get away from her soon he was liable to do something stupid, like kiss her again.
Bea ran her hand down the front of her shirt, smoothing the fabric back into place. She glanced up at him, looking uncertain. “I, uh, I think I’ll go to bed now,” she said.
Micah heard the tremor in her voice, and a selfish part of him was happy to know he wasn’t the only one shaken by their kiss. “Yeah,” he replied lamely. “It’s getting late.”
She nodded. “Good night.” With that, she turned and bolted through the door, back into the safety of the house.
Micah hung back, wanting to give her a minute so she wouldn’t feel like he was chasing her. He watched through the glass as she stopped to pet Chunk. The dog nosed her hand in greeting, then got to his feet and trotted off after her as she walked down the hall. He waited a few more seconds, giving her time to make it to the guest bedroom and shut the door. Then he stepped inside, flipping the lock behind him with a sigh.
He ran his hand through his hair, briefly surprised to find it so short. After a second he began to pace the length of the living room. He needed to move, needed to do something with all the excess energy in his body. Right now he felt unsettled and jumpy. The sensations were unfamiliar and unwelcome, and he knew until he found some way to deal with them he wasn’t going to be able to sleep.
Moving quickly
, he headed for his bedroom, keeping his gaze firmly away from the closed door to the guest room. He changed into shorts and a T-shirt and slipped into his running shoes, then headed for the door. He paused briefly on the porch, wondering if he should tell Bea where he was going. But no—she was settling in for the night, and he didn’t want to see her right now. She should be safe while he was gone. No one aside from his fellow officers and her father knew she was staying with him, so if the killer wanted to tie up loose ends, they wouldn’t know to look here. And Chunk was with her; despite the dog’s laid-back disposition, he made a good guardian. Still, he would stay close to the house just in case. Satisfied the world would continue to turn while he took a personal moment, Micah locked the door and set off down the gravel drive.
I’m not running away, he asserted as his feet pounded against the uneven ground. I’m just clearing my head.
He set a punishing pace, relishing the burn and welcoming the sweat it brought. But after forty minutes of making a wide circle around the property, Micah was forced to admit his thoughts were still as jumbled as ever.
Had Bea really missed him? Or was this some kind of sick joke? He’d never known her to be deliberately cruel, but she had broken his heart in the most impersonal of ways.
Maybe she regretted it, though. Maybe now that she was older, she realized that the way she had ended things was wrong. Hell, maybe she had spent the intervening years searching for Mr. Right, only to realize she wouldn’t ever be able to top what they’d had.
He snorted at the egotistical thought, but the possibility intrigued him. He certainly hadn’t been able to find anyone to replace her. But if that was the case, if she wanted him back because she hadn’t found anyone better, could he really be satisfied knowing she had merely settled for him?
No. The answer was automatic, as instinctive as his next breath. Whatever happened next between them, Micah had to know that Bea was in it for the right reasons.