by Rachel Cross
She stopped beside him, peering around his shoulder at the dish in the pan. It wasn’t the food that made her hungry. She fisted her hands, squelching the near overwhelming desire to press herself against his back and wrap her arms around him. She felt . . . awkward, a bit out of place. She’d never had a fling before. As silly as it seemed, she had no idea if she could do that, press herself against his back and take what she wanted.
He lifted the small skillet with one hand and slipped the finished omelet onto a small white plate beside the stove. “You hungry?”
She nodded, offering him a smile. “Starving, actually.”
“Me, too. I’m not a breakfast person, but I somehow managed to work up an appetite this morning.” He winked at her, sending her stomach flip-flopping, and yet managed to set her at ease at the same time. He tucked a piece of toast onto each of the two plates before picking them up and handing them to her. “You take these. I’ll bring the coffee. How do you take yours?”
“Cream, please.” She carried the two plates into the attached dining room and set them onto the table.
Michael joined her moments later, two cups hooked in one hand, forks in the other. He set one mug and one fork in front of her before seating himself beside her at the small, round table. As with the rest of the house, the dining room was small and quaint, containing only the one table and four chairs. The windows lining the walls let in the morning sun, filling the room with its bright golden gleam. The glow it offered the room matched how she felt, sitting there with Michael—bright, blissful, and relaxed.
She took a bite of her eggs and sighed softly as the flavors melted on her tongue. The peppers were sautéed, the cheese melty and gooey, the eggs perfectly done. He wasn’t a novice in the kitchen by any stretch of the imagination.
“My compliments to the chef. Did your mother teach you to cook?”
He nodded, swallowed the bite in his mouth, then took a sip of his coffee. “Mom insisted Gabe and I learn how to take care of ourselves.”
“You cook very well.” She glanced at him as she forked another bite. “I have to admit I’m surprised.”
“The whole dark and dangerous thing?” He quirked an amused brow, the corners of his mouth twitching.
The man had a way of turning her insides to mush. “Something like that.”
Silence fell between them, his smile melting from his face. Intimacy filled the space between them, quiet and simple, yet profound. The scene was domestic and comfortable, like they’d done it every morning for years.
Their entire relationship had shifted, and she didn’t know what to do with it. She didn’t even know if she wanted to do something with it. She only knew he drew her into his world, a place she suddenly longed to be a part of.
He took another sip of his coffee before glancing at her. “I thought I’d give you a ride to the shop this morning, if that’s all right.”
Cat smiled, recalling his words the night before, that he intended to be her new shadow, and arched a brow. “Do I have a choice?”
He let out a soft laugh and forked a bite of his omelet. “No. Not really.” He winked. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, babe.”
The double entendre had a swell of tension rising over the room. His smile fell, and he dragged his gaze to his plate. She nodded and lifted her cup with shaky fingers. She was never going to survive living with him. He was already becoming far too important.
• • •
When they pulled up in front of the shop half an hour later, two sheriff cars sat parked at the curb. Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. What was law enforcement doing at the shop?
She turned her head toward to the bookshop. A gasp wrenched from her throat. She clamped a trembling hand over her suddenly pounding heart. “Oh, God.”
Someone had spray painted the words “I warned you, whore” on the front windows. The bright red paint dripped down the clear glass, giving the message an eerie resemblance to blood. The breakfast in her stomach curdled. Lisa’s bruised and swollen face flashed like a neon sign through her mind, and panic, swift and intense, gripped her chest in a vice.
“Dad!” She slid from the bike and raced into the shop, fear clawing at her. If something happened to him, she’d never forgive herself.
The glass on the front door had been broken. Stepping inside, the shock of the mess hit her. Books and papers littered the floor. The cash register lay on its side beyond the front counter. Looking toward the back of the shop, several book stacks had been pushed over and now lay like toppled dominos. Had her father been here when whoever did this broke in? Her heart leapt into her throat.
“Dad?” As she began stepping over the mess, heading for the back of the shop, one of the sheriff’s deputies poked his head around the only stack that hadn’t been toppled. She had gone to high school with him. One of the few boys who ever treated her with respect.
He offered a gentle smile and jerked his head in the direction of the back of the shop. “He’s fine. In the office with Sheriff Dewitt.”
She nodded, relieved, but the tension refused to release her chest. “Thanks.”
Her father’s head poked around the office doorway. Relief flooded his face. “Thank the Lord. Back here, sweetheart.”
She took off at a jog, leaping over piles of books in her way. As she entered the office, Sheriff Dewitt and another of his deputies stood beside her father. Both gave a polite nod in greeting as she entered. She turned to her father, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight.
Her father hugged her in return before pulling back. Taking her by the shoulders, he set her away from him and looked her over. “Are you all right? Lisa’s mother called. I’ve been calling you all morning, but you haven’t answered. I take it you weren’t home when she was attacked?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. I haven’t checked my phone yet. No, I wasn’t home last night.” Heat climbed into her cheeks, the small room suddenly sweltering. Yet another conversation she didn’t want to have with her father. “When I saw the window, I was so worried. You weren’t here when it happened, were you?”
He offered a reassuring smile and shook his head. “No, sweetheart. Whoever did this set off the alarm. The sheriff and his boys got here first.” Something caught his attention, and his gaze shifted. Cat turned, following his gaze out the office door, toward the front of the shop. Michael made his way up the center aisle, carefully stepping over the mess.
Her father turned to the sheriff. “I suppose this is connected to those phone calls she’s been getting.”
Cat twisted her hands, the memory rising over her. “Because of the time I’ve been spending with Michael.” Tears flooded her eyes.
“It’s not your fault.” Michael reached her side, sliding his arm around her shoulders, drawing her protectively against his side.
It was an action her father didn’t miss. It occurred to her she ought to feel uncomfortable about the show, but the solid strength of Michael against her side felt too good to turn down. It made the shaking that had encompassed her the moment they pulled up out front finally cease. A sense of warmth and safety finally settled around her.
Her father’s gaze shifted to the sheriff. He shook his head, a worried frown marring his forehead. “This has to stop, Joe.”
“My men are dusting for fingerprints now.” The sheriff caught her eye, his expression soft and reassuring. “We’ll catch whoever did this. I’m putting extra patrols around your building as well as down here on Main Street. You don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure you and your family stay safe.”
“In the meantime,” Michael addressed her father, “she’ll be staying with me.”
Her father eyed Michael for a long moment, and Cat got the distinct impression Michael was being weighed and measured.
Something Michael apparently noticed as well, for he dropped his arms to his sides. “It’s my fault she’s in this mess. I won’t sleep not knowing whether or not she’s safe. She and I have discussed
this, but I don’t mind telling you as well. She either stays with me or I camp out in her living room. Hell, I’ll camp out on her doorstep if I have to. One way or another, I’m not leaving her side until this over. Until I know she’s going to be safe.”
Her father’s eyes lit up, a secretive smile curling across his mouth. As if he knew something they didn’t. His gaze shifted to her, a lone brow lifting. “I take it that’s okay with you, sweetheart?”
Cat bit her bottom lip and nodded. Given everything that was happening, staying with Michael was probably the last thing she ought to do. So far, it had done nothing but get her in trouble. Someone had gotten hurt because of their relationship, but he made her feel safe. After everything that had happened, she couldn’t think of a place she wanted to be more than sleeping safe and warm in his embrace.
Her father turned back to Michael and smiled again. “In that case, I appreciate that, son. Thank you.”
• • •
Hands in his pockets, Michael stood watching Cat pace the sidewalk in front of him. They’d spent the last several hours helping her father clean up the store. When the bookshop finally began to resemble a small business again, her father kicked them out. Cat began pacing the minute they moved outside. Her chin tucked to her chest, she wrung her hands as she walked.
It ate at him to watch her, to see her agitation rolled up in fear. Meeting her was a gift. She gave him peace for the first time in ten years. Made him believe a future might actually be possible. Made him actually want one. Yet all he’d done so far was bring hell to her life.
“You’re not alone in this, Cat. You know that, don’t you?”
Cat halted mid-stride and turned her head in his direction, a mix of tenderness and fear in her widened eyes. “I do. I feel safer with you, but us being together isn’t making this better. It’s making it worse. I can’t help wondering what else is going to happen.” She shook her head, her voice sounding a little too small and meek and scared for his taste. “We don’t even know what provoked her this time.”
Michael’s gut knotted. He hated having to tell her this. Doing so would only add to the fear in her eyes. Seeing that fear had a protectiveness he’d never felt before swelling like a typhoon inside of him. Right then, he’d do anything to make sure that look never crossed her features again. “More pictures, I’m afraid.”
Cat froze, so still even the rise and fall of her chest seemed to halt. Her fear was palpable. “Of what?”
He took two steps, closing the distance between them, rubbing her arms in an effort to still the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Us, when I brought you to the house last night.”
Her face blanched. She furrowed her brow, shook her head, her tone laced with disgust and disbelief. “They published that in the paper?”
His privacy was being invaded, in a big way, by someone who appeared to be following every move Cat made. He swallowed. The words sat like acid on his tongue. She deserved the truth, but everything inside him rebelled having to tell her.
“No. They were out on the back porch when I went out for a swim this morning.” He’d grown up swimming like a fish. Though he didn’t do it often anymore, this morning the stress had gotten to him. Waking before her had given him time to think.
“You should’ve told me.” She blinked, accusation in her tone.
“I know.” He reached out and took her hand and prayed she’d understand. “I’m sorry. You’re already scared enough as it is. I didn’t want to frighten you any more than I had to, but this changes things.”
Cat pulled her hand from his and folded her arms across her chest. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’m a big girl, Michael.”
He stroked a hand down her arm, hoping to soothe the wound between them. “You’re right. I should have told you. I hate that I’ve brought this to you.”
Anger burned in his blood. He’d made a promise to himself the night Kaylee died. Something like that would never happen again. He might not be able to change the past, make right the things he’d done. It wouldn’t bring Kaylee back. But he would not lose another someone he cared about.
Despite her stance, Cat seemed so vulnerable standing there, her eyes wide and wary. It pulled at that protectiveness, again, and he took her hand, pulled her to him, glad when she came willingly into his arms.
“We need to take this a step further.” He wrapped his arms tightly around her, hoping to stem her trembling.
She pulled back enough to meet his gaze, eyes searching his face. “What do you mean?”
He took a deep breath and prepared himself for her refusal. “I want to make you a part of my family.”
She frowned. “Marriage?”
“No, not marriage, but close. An engagement. My family protects its own. You’ll be safe with us. My father will make sure of it. It also solves the problem of us being seen together. If we’re engaged, people expect it. I want to make our relationship completely public, so we’re going to have to make this look real. Which means nobody but you and me can know it isn’t. I want whoever this is to know they’re messing with me now, and by default, my family, too. I want them to know I’m not going to roll over and play dead. If they want a fight, they’ve got one.”
“We’ve only known each other a few weeks.” A fierce blush seeped into her cheeks. Hands braced on his chest, she pushed out of his embrace. “What are we going to tell people?”
“They don’t have to know that. I came back two years ago. For all they know, we met then and have been seeing each other in secret this whole time. In fact, I’m willing to bet they’d love it. People get off on that sort thing.”
She folded her arms across her chest and turned her gaze to the sidewalk. “You’re going through an awful lot of trouble for me. Why would you do that?”
Beyond those walls he saw the little girl she must have been once, tormented by something that wasn’t her fault. That she questioned his motives told him she wasn’t used to people wanting to protect her. The whole notion made him long to draw her into his arms, shelter her from the very world she fought against. He reached out and lifted her chin. “I meant what I told your father. It’s my fault you’re in this mess. That photographer was following me, not you.”
“What do you get out of this?”
He slid his hands into her hair, drawing her closer. “You. Safe. It would kill me if anything happened to you, Cat.”
Tenderness flashed in her eyes. For a long moment, they watched each other, lost in the connection zipping between them, so strong it stunned him with the simplicity of it. She had a pull on him he couldn’t ignore anymore, one he found simultaneously tempting and terrifying. He longed, more than anything, to give in and let this woman into his heart for the first time. God, how she made him yearn for the sweet peace those eyes promised him. He longed to wrap himself up in her and never come out.
Unable to help himself, he brushed his mouth over hers. Despite the fact they stood on the sidewalk, in public, her lips melted beneath his. She lifted onto her toes, hands braced on his chest, searing his skin through the all-too-thin material of his T-shirt. When he finally pulled back, he was breathless and shaking. He leaned his forehead against hers for a moment to catch his breath. To regain some semblance of control. God, the power she had over him. “I’m not leaving Crest Point until I’m positive you’re safe.”
She shook her head, her eyes shimmering with tenderness, gratitude, and a hint of regret. “That’s very sweet. Nobody but my father’s ever done for that me. I can’t let you give up your life for me.”
He stroked his fingers over her skin. “I don’t see it as giving anything up, Cat.” Then he grinned, hoping to lighten the moment, to see something besides worry light her eyes. “Besides, it’s not your choice. You’re stuck with me, babe.”
Chapter Eight
“Morning, beautiful.”
Cat woke to the feel of soft lips and a prickly, stubbled chin skimming the side of her neck. The low rumble of Michael’s voice i
n her ear, coupled with the warm, velvet of his bare skin against her side, his erection pressing into her hip, set her pulse thrumming. His wicked mouth awakened every nerve ending along his path as he planted a line of kisses across her shoulder, over her collarbone and down between her breasts. The man stoked the fire within, had her already teetering on the edge and burning for him.
A quiet moan escaped her, and she reached down, pulling at him. “Michael . . . please.”
He let her pull him up and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her lips as settled over her. He stroked her hair back off her face. “I never stop wanting you.”
He nipped at her lower lip, then rolled off her. Opening her eyes, she turned her head and watched as he tore open a foil packet and sheathed himself. He tucked her beneath him again and, holding his weight on his elbows, slid inch by agonizing inch into her.
He loved her with exquisite slowness, their bodies rocking together in a gentle, tender rhythm. She held him tight, her back bowing off the bed as her body strained to meet his with a need that left her panting and trembling. All too quickly, he brought her to her climax, his quiet groan in her ear as he followed her into the delicious abyss.
They lay together afterwards, Cat tucked against his side, his arm around her shoulders, legs entangled. Comfortable and sated. Like they’d been lovers for years, and he woke her up this way every morning. It left her caught, her heart entangled in a mess she had no desire to get out of. She’d lived her life afraid of intimacy, afraid to let people in, afraid of the judgment. Afraid she’d find out they were right, that she really was her mother’s daughter. That nobody would ever want anything more from her. Michael was a foray into reclaiming her life, reclaiming herself. She feared the ultimate price would be her heart.
“If we’re going to make this look real, we’re going to need a ring.” Michael’s voice drifted to her on a lazy murmur, his fingers busy strumming her back, as if telling her about his day. It only seemed to reinforce the odd feeling of intimacy that gripped her chest.