by Leger, Lori
Drake smiled and nodded. “That’s good to hear, guys. Maybe it’ll lift her spirits.”
The two men exited to begin their watch of the house.
Drake walked back to Annie’s door and knocked again, entering when she gave the go ahead.
He walked over and sat on her bed. “You okay?”
“I’m peachy, Drake. I’ve got cops surrounding my house, a man living with me and corrupting my pets, and soon there’ll be a complete stranger following my every move. All because a murderer is doing his damnedest to rape and probably kill or maim me the first chance he gets.” Her brow rose dramatically. “Life doesn’t get any better than this.”
He reached out to place his hand over hers. “Annie, it’ll be okay. None of this is going to last forever.”
“Of course not. Nothing lasts forever.” She closed her laptop with a snap and set it aside. “But it sure as hell is depressing for the moment.” She crawled out of the bed and smoothed the bedspread after Martin jumped down and sauntered out of the room.
As she pivoted to face Drake, he gently took hold of her shoulders and gazed into her liquid blue eyes. “Please trust me, Annie girl.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Please stop calling me that. I’ve asked you countless times.”
“Tell me why, and I’ll consider it.”
“I told you, it brings back bad memories for me.”
“Tell me about them. What did he do that was so bad it turned you off all men?”
She laughed softly. “It’s just like a guy to say something like that. He didn’t turn me off men, but he did convince me there’s no room in my life for a permanent relationship.”
“What did he do to you, Annie?”
She took a deep breath and released it. “He didn’t do anything to me, Drake. It’s what I nearly did that scares the hell out of me.”
“What? Tell me. Please, trust me,” he pleaded with her. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. “Look at me,” he urged.
“Let it go, Drake. It’s too personal to talk about to anyone else besides my God and my shrink—in that order.”
He lifted her chin with one hand. “All right, as long as you can accept that I’ll do anything to keep you from being hurt again. I won’t give up on getting you to trust me, though.”
She studied him for several moments, as though contemplating his statement, but finally turned away. “I’m tired Drake, I think I want to go to sleep now.”
He gave her a brief nod. “Don’t lock your door. I’ll be coming in to check on you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is. Until the security alarm is installed tomorrow, it’s necessary for my own peace of mind.”
Her face registered momentary confusion before acceptance, born through exhaustion, washed across her features. “Whatever. I’m going to bed now. I’d appreciate it if you give me at least an hour to get to sleep before you come barging into my bedroom.”
“I’ll be so quiet you won’t even notice me.” He left her room, closing the door behind him.
Drake checked the doors and windows in the rest of the house for the third time then cast an eye at the police cruiser parked in the front. “A lot of good that’s going to do if that asshole tries to break in through the back of the house,” he murmured. I should have checked her windows again while I was in there.
Just then, Martin rubbed up against his leg, meowing purposely and looking toward the hallway. “You want to go back in there, don’t you, buddy?” He lifted him to eye level. “You let me know if anything is wrong, okay Martin? It’s up to us to take care of her, you know.”
The cat placed his paw on Drake’s face, as if in understanding.
“I could swear you know exactly what I’m saying,” he mumbled. If any of his former colleagues could see him now, they’d file a claim on his behalf for loss of mental faculties. He walked silently over to Annie’s door and cracked it open just enough to drop Martin inside the room, then pulled the door closed again.
Annie felt her cat jump up on the bed and waited as he curled comfortably beside her. She pulled him closer, finally admitting that she was truly terrified. Someone could be lurking just outside her home. Someone who wanted to rape, torture, and murder her, and suddenly it was all too much to bear. In seconds, all of the emotions she’d been holding back the entire evening came bubbling up to the surface. She turned her head into her pillow in an attempt to muffle the sobs that came with no warning.
Martin jumped from the bed, as though he knew he was in over his head, and began scratching and meowing loudly at the door. Within seconds Drake was there, seated beside her.
“I know, Annie. I know you’re scared.”
Without turning her face from her pillow, she grabbed his arm and pulled it around her.
Drake lay down behind her and wrapped his muscled arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She trembled, shaking with the sobs that wracked her body and soul. She heard murmurs of soft endearments and reassurances as he held her tightly. Her tears wouldn’t stop, and she turned toward Drake. He held her closely with one arm while running his other hand gently through her hair.
“Let go of it, Annie. You don’t have to be strong all the time. I’m here,” he murmured.
Annie cried, even after realizing Drake’s strong arms did much to ease her fears. She tried to tell herself she didn’t want this, only needed it for the moment. Too exhausted to analyze it any further, the tears finally subsided to quiet sniffles. She needed to feel safe again, and if she knew nothing else about Drake, she knew this man would do whatever he could to make that happen. The thought eased her troubled mind—allowed her to relax in the solace of his embrace.
Drake lay there, listening to the sounds in the room. The tick of a clock, the purring of Martin, and the steady rhythm of Annie’s breathing. Once she’d stopped crying, it only took a few minutes for her to fall into a peaceful sleep in his arms. He was happy that being in his arms had seemed to help her accomplish that feat, but he knew that until the security alarm was installed and doing its job properly, he wouldn’t be able to fully rest.
For the first four hours he napped fitfully, waking at every creak the house made. The last thing he remembered was turning toward Annie and her snuggling closer to him in her sleep. Drake closed his eyes and asked God to keep her safe before falling into a deep sleep, with the love of his life cradled protectively in his arms, and Martin purring softly at his back.
Drake awoke slowly to the sounds of soft snoring coming from somewhere near his ear. He opened one eye, and then the other, in an attempt to find the culprit. Annie’s soft, warm body pressed up against him. He turned his head gingerly toward the delicate face that rested on his chest, a face framed by a wild disarray of light auburn curls, barely visible in the dimness of the night light’s glow. Her mouth formed a perfect little pout, but there were no lines of worry or stress on her face. She seemed to be resting quietly.
He frowned, still looking for the snorer, finally realized it came from above his head. He raised one arm, feeling the large ball of fur lying across the top of his pillow. He shook the cat gently until Martin awoke with a start, and stood, staring down at him accusingly. The cat yawned, baring his teeth as well as a remarkable resemblance to the MGM lion. He leapt easily off the bed and ran down the hallway.
Turning so that he could watch Annie in her sleep, Drake touched her soft curls, and let a long ringlet wind around his finger. He watched her sleep for several minutes, her perfectly shaped lips still pouting daintily. He longed to wake his sleeping beauty with a kiss, but knew her well enough to know that waking to this situation wouldn’t please her. She’d see last night’s loss of composure as a chink in her armor, a sign of weakness. Waking in his arms would only symbolize a result of that weakness.
Drake took one last look at her, slipped out of bed, and pulled the door softly shut behind him. He walked to the living room window to sta
re out at the police cruiser, still parked in the same spot. A quick glance at his watch told him it was six thirty on a Saturday morning. He’d slept much later than normal, even though it had taken him a few hours to get to sleep.
He pushed the brew button on the coffee pot before heading to the guest bath. By the time he stepped out, freshly showered and shaved, it was to the aroma of strongly brewed, Cajun coffee.
Drake peeked in on Annie, still sound asleep. Proof enough of how trying the previous evening had been for her. Hopefully, they’d both feel better once the alarm system was in place and working properly.
Drake looked in the fridge for something to eat. He found bacon and eggs and decided to try his hand at cooking breakfast. He’d never cooked before, but he’d watched Annie. He caught the reflection of his Harvard Alumni tee shirt in the immaculately polished surface of the wall oven door, and shrugged. “Hell yeah, Bubba. You’re a Harvard graduate,” he told his mirror image. “How difficult could it be?”
The faint sound of muffled cursing and the smell of burnt eggs woke her. She stretched and cracked opened her puffy eyes, feeling remarkably well-rested, despite last night’s monumental tear fest. She wrinkled her nose, thinking Drake must be trying his hand at cooking breakfast, unsuccessfully if the strengthening smell of charred food was any indication. She’d better help before any permanent damage was done to her kitchen. She crawled out of bed and padded to her bathroom in an attempt to erase the ravages of the previous night.
A few minutes later, she entered the smoke-filled kitchen and paused, unseen by Drake, to watch the scene before her.
She swallowed at the sight of him, looking good in faded jeans and a tee, his hair slightly shower damp. It still shocked her a little to see him dressed down like this. Texan or no, he sprang from money and corporate law. He turned enough for her to get a look at the front of his shirt. Instantly, it reminded her that anyone who could afford to wear a Harvard alumni T-shirt had probably purchased the jeans appropriately pre-faded for effect. He stood in front of the sink, holding a smoking frying pan up to the open windows. The overcooked eggs were in a second frying pan still sitting on the smooth surface of the cook top. At least he’d thought to turn off the burner.
Lewis flapped his wings and shrieked. “Aaannie, call 911!”
Drake muttered from the sink. “Shut it, Lewis. It’s not that bad.”
Annie walked over to the cook top and flipped a lever, switching on the vent. She grabbed a potholder and retrieved the pan from Drake, setting it on the stove. The vent’s fan motor whirred and hummed, performing its job of removing the smoke and odors from the air.
“I didn’t know you had a vent,” he said sheepishly. “There’s no hood.”
“It’s built in, don’t worry about it.”
Drake reached over to close the windows, but Annie stopped him. “Leave them open for a few minutes. Every little bit helps.” She couldn’t help but smile at his flush of embarrassment.
“You made it look so easy the other day, but your kitchen may never be the same.”
She indicated the two frying pans. “The kitchen survived, but I’m not sure about the pans.”
“Damn, did I ruin them? I’m sorry, I’ll buy you a new set.” Drake stepped forward to inspect the damage.
Annie laughed and shook her head. “I’m kidding, Drake. As much as I paid for this cookware it should be able to take a little burnt bacon and eggs. They’ll be fine, you’ll see.” She walked over to the fridge and retrieved the remaining bacon and eggs. She placed the bacon in a new pan on medium heat. “Here, break the rest of these eggs into this bowl.” She placed one in front of him.
Drake looked at her with a doubtful expression on his face. “Uh, that didn’t go over so well the last time I tried.” He nodded toward the pan of burnt eggs. “I think there were more shells than eggs in there.”
Annie grabbed an egg and a bowl. “I’ll show you how to do it properly. If you’re going to use my kitchen, I’d rather you not burn it down the first week.” She tapped an egg on the rim then emptied its contents into the bowl.
Drake looked at the egg, its yolk in one piece with absolutely no shells floating around. “It can’t be that easy. You should have seen my mess.”
“I do see your mess. You just need practice.”
Drake turned pleading eyes toward her. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you did it and I watched?”
“Come on Drake, I’m a firm believer in the old adage, ‘Cook for a man and he eats for a day, teach him to cook and he eats for a lifetime’.”
He rolled his eyes. “You made that up.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, well I think the original was about teaching a man to fish, but I’ve never fished in my life.”
“You’re kidding, right? You’re a southerner. Not even once?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have to try something to know I’d stink at it. I’d never have the patience to sit still and be quiet for that long.”
Drake grinned at her. “I never would have guessed.”
“That’s right, smart ass,” she replied. “I can admit my own limitations. Too bad I can’t say the same for you.”
He puffed his chest out and flexed his arms. “I would, if I had any.” He exuded his usual overabundance of attitude and male bravado.
Annie couldn’t help but laugh. “Jesus, Drake, all you need is a set of tail feathers and you’d look like my dad’s prize rooster.”
“Oh, yeah? You did say prize rooster, which means I’ll win the blue ribbon, eventually; the blue ribbon being you, in this case.”
“You just keep telling yourself that, Rocky. Too much of that isn’t always a good thing.”
“Rocky, as in Balboa?”
She shook her head. “As in Rocky the rooster.”
“I didn’t see a rooster in your dad’s chicken yard.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Exactly.”
“What happened to him?”
“He got eaten.”
“Like fried, or in a gumbo?”
“Nope. Rocky got a little too cocky with the neighbor’s Labrador Retriever. By the time Dad got to him, all that was left was a handful of feathers.”
Drake grimaced. “Oh, poor Rocky.”
She nodded serenely. “You could learn a thing or two from ‘Cocky Rocky’s’ demise.”
He shook his head. “I told you before, there’s a difference between being cocky and being confident. The difference is being able to back up the talk. “
“Well, counselor, you can talk the talk, I’ll give you that.”
He gave her that sexy, crooked grin and leaned in closer to murmur into her ear. “If you’re interested, I can always show you that I’m fully capable of walking the walk, as well.”
Annie tried to ignore the frisson of excitement his softly spoken words caused in her. She cleared her throat and pushed him away with both hands. “Are you ready to cook?”
His grin broadened. “I could ask the same of you.”
The look she gave him conveyed that she was a little tired of his comebacks.
He released a low chuckle. “Okay, okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said. He took a deep breath then picked up an egg, tapped it too hard against the rim of the bowl, cursed as a flood of broken eggshells contaminated the bowl of eggs.
Annie giggled. “You have to separate the egg shell, Drake. Pull it apart, don’t pulverize it. Use your thumbnails to catch the shell, if you have to. Watch.” She performed the simple task once more for his benefit.
He tried it again and beamed as he got the whole egg into the bowl without a speck of shell. He cracked the remaining two into the bowl with the same result. “Hey, there’s hope for me yet. Thanks, Annie Girl.”
She handed him a fork to whisk the eggs. Remarkably, he seemed to excel at it. She cocked one eyebrow and glanced over at his smug look.
“I’ve got this part under control. It’s all in the wrist,” he said, with a grin as he met h
er gaze.
She bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. “Yeah, looks like you’re quite adept at that wrist action. Practice much?”
His hand froze as he stared down at the bowl. “Oh-uh-that is not what I meant at all. I never, I mean, I hardly, I mean, I …”
Annie shrugged, quite amused at his discomfort. “You could always plead the Fifth—refuse to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate you.”
Drake snorted then continued to whisk the eggs. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I admit that although I got quite accomplished at it during my pubescent years, I haven’t needed that particular for of relief in years.” He gave the bowl of eggs several more swipes before pausing. “I’ve also taken an increasing amount of cold showers since meeting you.”
Her hand came up. “Information overload! I didn’t ask to be all up in your business.” She grabbed the bowl of eggs from him. “Okay, that’s enough.” She handed him a frying pan and a can of non-stick spray. “Here, give the pan a shot of that and put it on a medium heat.” With the occasional tip from her, Drake managed to whip up a passable meal of scrambled eggs, bacon, and whole wheat toast for the two of them.
They ate their breakfast and read the paper, as Lewis chattered from his cage. When Annie stood at the sink to load the dishwasher, Drake followed. As he reached for the bowl she held out to him, he let his fingers cover hers longer than necessary. She didn’t dare meet his gaze, but couldn’t ignore the zing his touch caused in the pit of her belly.
“How are you? After last night, I mean?”
She pulled her fingers from his and cleared her throat. “I’m over it.”
“If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
“I said I’m over it.” She hadn’t meant it to sound so sharp, so abrupt. The truth was, she was embarrassed at falling apart last night. She hadn’t intended for him or anyone else to see her that way. And he wouldn’t have if he’d left her alone in her room. She tried to shrug it off.
“I-I wasn’t prepared. That call took-it took me by surprise. I-I guess I’d begun to assume J.B. had left town with his tail between his legs.”