“I’m afraid I can’t reveal my client’s name.”
“Don’t look at me,” Annie said, lying well. “Lucky came into the store yesterday asking questions about the Huffs. I didn’t know them so I couldn’t help, but we hit it off right away, and…well, you know how it is.”
“Not really,” Sheriff Buhl mumbled. As he turned to exit he added, “I’ll tell Jerry you said hello.”
“Yes, please do,” Annie said brightly just before the front door slammed shut.
Annie continued to face the door minutes after the sheriff had departed. They listened to his car start and pull away.
Finally, Lucky asked, “Who’s Jerry?”
“Sheriff’s deputy,” Annie answered. “We dated. Twice.”
“Was it serious?”
She turned to glance at him, wary as could be. “I said we dated twice. How could that possibly be serious?” Her cheeks turned red. “Oh, you mean did we sleep together. No, absolutely not. If that’s the question, we were not at all serious.” She had the grace to look a little guilty. “And yes, I realize that word will be around town in a matter of hours, and everyone will think that I picked up a man in my store and brought him home. Believe it or not, that’s preferable to having my friends and neighbors suspect the truth. Pancakes?” She headed for the kitchen, in her own unique way declaring the conversation over.
Lucky followed Annie to the kitchen. He really should just do what he’d been sent here to do and tell her that he couldn’t help her. But in the back of his mind was a nagging, inescapable whisper he had never expected to encounter. What if she’s right?
He stopped in the kitchen doorway and watched Annie gather the ingredients for pancakes. She tried to hide the gentle tremble of her hands and the fear that lurked in her eyes as she set about making breakfast, but he saw.
She thought what she’d dreamed was real, and what if it was? What if, in spite of his grounded beliefs and perfectly logical disbelief, there was some way Annie’s brain could pick up on thought waves, as if she were a human radio? She’d told him it was as if she were in the killer’s head. She knew his mind, what he saw and thought.
Her brain was like a receiver. She’d said this had happened twice in her lifetime, and in both instances murder was involved. Violent murder and physical proximity. Bad things went on all the time, and yet Annie’s receiver only activated when the violence happened within a certain distance. How close did she have to be?
He couldn’t believe he was actually beginning to buy into her story, but in truth it was his only choice. Actually, he had two choices. He could believe her for the duration, or he could quit.
He watched Annie crack an egg into the pancake batter. She wore goofy, completely unsexy pajamas, and her hair was sticking out at all angles. Now and then, her toes with the pink-painted nails would curl a bit or tap against the tile floor, in sheer nervousness. She didn’t ever wear makeup—at least, no more than a little lip gloss and mascara—and she didn’t need it. Right now her bare face was as pretty as it had been when he’d first come to her door.
She kissed with an unexpected combination of innocence and passion. He liked her. He wanted her. He couldn’t possibly quit.
Which meant he was going to have to believe.
“We’re going to start all over,” he said, crossing his arms over his bare chest as Annie turned her head to look at him.
“What do you mean?” she asked, never ceasing in her brisk whisking of the pancake batter.
“The answers we need won’t come from the sheriff or the Huffs’ relatives or anyone else but you. This begins and end with you, Annie.”
“I still don’t understand.” The trepidation in her voice hinted that maybe she did understand…more than she wanted to.
“You’re the key. In order to understand, we’re going all the way back to the murder in Nashville.”
Annie hadn’t thought this could get any worse, but suddenly it was worse. She’d done her very best, for the past five years, to dismiss everything that had happened to her in Nashville, and now Lucky was making her relive it. All of it, from beginning to end.
Lucky had driven back to the bed-and-breakfast hours ago, showered and dressed, and returned with his pristine image and icy aura intact. She had never known a man who was so cool and collected and hard, but then, she’d never had reason to know a man of his type.
And once this was over, he’d be gone and she’d never know a man of his type again—she hoped. Not that she didn’t like Lucky. She did. Too much. But trouble of a big kind had brought him here, and she didn’t want trouble in her life.
She wanted peace. Quiet days. Good music. Laughing friends. Dreamless sleep. Was that too much to ask for?
When she’d finished telling him about the murder in Nashville, he reached a frightening conclusion that he shared with her in an emotionless voice. She didn’t want to be a human radio tuned to violence, and she had no qualms about telling him so.
But looking back, after she calmed down a bit, she could see that he had some good points. The killer in Nashville had lived less than five miles from her apartment. She and the man who’d murdered his girlfriend could’ve been physically close at any time. At the grocery store, driving along the street, jogging, at the movie theater…anywhere.
If Lucky’s theory was right, then at some point or another she’d been very close to the man who’d murdered the Huffs and had recently chosen a new set of victims. Did she know him? Had they said hello, bumped shoulders at the farmers’ market, attended the summer festival at the same time, maybe eaten at the same restaurant? That idea gave her a deep chill that raised goose bumps on her arms. Did she know the killer? Is that why he’d invaded her dreams?
It was such a nice afternoon, they’d moved onto the back deck to work. Lucky looked out over the mountains, admiring the view she never got tired of or took for granted. He was quiet for a long time, stoic and still and about to explode, in his own quiet way. She suspected they did not want any of the same things from life. She wanted peace; peace would likely bore Lucky Santana silly. She was drawn to things that were different. Her clothing, her favorite music and her home all reflected that love of the unusual. Lucky was the most conservative man she’d ever met.
And yet they did have something in common. They were both lonely.
“I have an idea,” he said, his gaze remaining fixed on the mountain view that seemed to stretch forever.
“What kind of idea?” She was almost afraid to know, and thankfully she was not reading his mind at the moment. For now, for this wonderful moment, her mind and her thoughts were her own. All was blessedly quiet in that respect.
Lucky turned his head and looked at her. Oh, there was so much power in those amber eyes, her heart lurched and her pulse sped up. Her mouth went dry. She remembered how he kissed, what he looked like without that conservative shirt, what he might look like wearing nothing at all. With a body and a face like that one, he likely had this effect on women of all ages and all types—compatibility be damned.
“You said this guy was drawn to the Huffs because they were happy, and that he’s chosen a new couple to watch for the same reason. He wants what they have.”
“Yes.”
“And when he can’t get it, he kills them.”
She nodded, unable to speak.
Lucky gave her a heartbreaker smile. “Put on your dancing shoes, Annie Lockhart. We’re about to become the happiest damn couple in Tennessee.”
Chapter 6
Annie followed Lucky into the cabin, stepping through the kitchen door off the wide deck. He didn’t have to be psychic to know she was close to panic.
“I understand your reasoning, but it’ll never work,” she said, her voice shallow and quick. “He’s already picked his next victims. What makes you think he’ll change his mind?”
“Got any better ideas?”
“Well, no, but…”
“What do we have to lose? We’ll keep working to
find his next victims and uncover his identity if you continue to have the dreams, and I’ll continue to investigate the Huffs’ deaths. If he comes to us, then it’s just gravy.”
“Gravy,” Annie said beneath her breath. “A psycho might come after me, and you say it’s gravy.”
Lucky had almost reached the door that would lead him into the small dining area of the great room when he turned to look at her. Her vulnerability was at a new height, and he couldn’t deny that it called to him in a primal way. If he didn’t realize that the situation and the vulnerability were his weaknesses, he might think he was actually beginning to care about Annie Lockhart in a personal way. Right now, he really wanted to scoop her up and cover her body with his and go to the logical place that possessive move would take them.
But he did realize all his weaknesses, and that gave him the opportunity to push what he wanted deep. “I’m not going to let him get anywhere near you,” he said.
“As if you’re going to be here all the time,” she countered, ending the statement with a very unladylike snort.
Obviously, she didn’t yet get it. “I will be here all the time,” he said. “If we’re going to be that happy, I’m going to have to move in.”
Her cheeks went pinker than usual, and her blue eyes danced—not with excitement, but with fear. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I never kid. It’s not in my hardwiring.”
Her mouth opened and closed, as if she was trying to talk but couldn’t. Finally she said, “If nothing else, no one will ever buy you and me as a couple, much less a happy one. We don’t have anything in common.”
“Haven’t you ever heard that opposites attract?”
“I’ve heard it,” she said. “I’ve just never believed it.” She placed hands on hips and cocked one hip out, frustrated and scared—though she obviously didn’t want him to know how she felt. She tried to appear tough, with that stance and the narrowed eyes and the firm lips. “Every successful couple I know are like two peas in a pod. They like the same movies and music, they dress in a similar fashion, they laugh at the same jokes. You and I have nothing in common,” she said again, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. “No one who sees us together will ever buy—”
Lucky moved in smoothly and swiftly, catching Annie and pulling her to him, bending down to kiss her before she could take a breath and tell him to stop. Once her surprise faded, she melted in his arms. It was a gradual and decisive and complete surrender, until she was kissing him back with everything she had to give.
The kiss was soft and sweet, for a long moment, and then it turned into something deeper. Something more than a simple kiss. He felt Annie to his bones, and he wanted her. Here and now, he wanted her, personal weaknesses be damned.
One gentle hand crept to his neck and settled there, soft fingers oddly at home and familiar. Annie’s body undulated slightly, moving closer to his own and remaining there, pressed against him in a move more sexual than the melding of their mouths. She was in his blood, just like that.
Nothing in common? Not true. He was in her blood, too.
Annie moved away slightly, breaking the kiss and laying her forehead against his shoulder. Her breath came hard and deep, and she held him as if she didn’t want to let go.
Lucky cupped her neck in one hand and gently forced her head back so she was looking him in the eye. “They’ll buy it,” he whispered.
After a long, strained moment she answered with a very reluctant “Okay.”
Lucky insisted that for their ploy to work, it would have to be very public. They couldn’t expect the man who was presently stalking another couple who was blithely ignorant of his existence to drop by the cabin and be suitably impressed. No, she and Lucky had to get out and make sure everyone in Mercerville knew they were now together.
He’d checked out of his room in Kristie’s bed-and-breakfast and moved his stuff into her spare bedroom. Since her mother often stayed there, and was liable to show up at any moment, it was relatively clean. She’d just had to move a few of her supplies to the loft.
When that was done, he’d taken her to town. They had reservations at Smokey’s, but first they walked up and down Main Street, holding hands and acting as if they really were a couple. They window-shopped. Lucky bought her fudge. Now and then he whispered at her and ordered her to smile. As they were headed for the restaurant he stopped on a street corner to kiss her. In public. Quite thoroughly. He grabbed her ass while he was kissing her.
She didn’t need to call on any special powers to know that people were watching. It occurred to her, too late, that maybe the truth would’ve been better than this charade.
For the excursion to town she’d donned her favorite skirt—a long, loose silk skirt in a variety of brightly colored tie prints. It was topped with a turquoise tank top that sported a few sparklies around the neckline and a matching sweater. Instead of a pretty pair of sandals, which most women would’ve worn to complete the ensemble, she’d chosen to wear a clunky pair of soft brown boots. Fall was here, after all, so it was time to get her many pairs of boots out of the closet. She carried one of her own handbags, of course.
Lucky wore a black suit—no surprise—a white dress shirt, and what had to be the dullest tie ever made. And still, he was gorgeous. The artistic side of her brain mentally re-dressed him. Black jeans, very well worn. Motorcycle boots. A snug T-shirt. His hair a bit longer, and nicely mussed. She tried to make the image work, but it didn’t make any more sense than her opting for a navy blue power suit and a pair of sensible pumps.
Besides, if he wore the outfit she envisioned for him, he wouldn’t be able to hide the shoulder holster and gun he wore. She didn’t like the fact that he was armed, but he’d informed her that until the man they were searching for was caught, he’d have his weapon close at all times.
They didn’t look like any normal couple, but they did draw stares. That’s what Lucky wanted, right? Attention. They were definitely drawing attention.
As far as she could tell, the man they were looking for hadn’t seen them yet. She wished she had enough confidence in her ability to take some small comfort from that fact, but she didn’t. What she saw or didn’t see was so sporadic, it was little better than nothing at all. Only the dreams were strong enough to be called reliable. The random thoughts that came to her head were erratic.
Tonight, they were blessedly absent.
Smokey’s was the best restaurant in town. Since there were so many tourists in the area year-round, it was also casual. In his suit, Lucky stood out like a sore thumb. Everyone stared. People she knew; complete strangers; women of all ages. She had a feeling he would draw stares no matter where he went or what he wore. He was just the kind of man who stood out in a crowd.
A part of her was still convinced that no one would ever buy them as a couple. Lucky Santana was fantasy material. She was not. But like it or not, the chemistry was there. On her side of the equation, anyway.
When Lucky reached across their small table and covered her hand with his, a decided chill crawled up her arm and settled in her throat. Yeah, that was definitely chemistry.
“You’re not smiling,” he whispered in a low voice no one else could hear.
“That’s because I’m terrified your ploy will work,” she answered, her voice no louder than his.
He turned her hand over and began to rock his thumb against her palm. Oh, my. “I might have brought in a female Benning agent to play your part, but since you lied to the sheriff about us this morning—” he shrugged slightly “—you are the logical choice. Don’t worry. No one’s going to get close to you. I called Murphy this afternoon, and he’s sending some of his new toys. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Toys?” She could feel herself blush. “For goodness’ sake, Lucky. What makes you think we have any need for…toys?”
Lucky’s grin widened. It was positively wicked. It was the kind of smile women sighed and responded to, the kind of smile that felt as if it
became a tangible thing and leapt into a woman’s gut. She felt it there, in her stomach and in the chills on her arms.
“Not the kind of toys you’re thinking about, Annie, dear. Though if you’re so inclined…” Again that subtle shrug.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused.
His amber eyes went hard. “Damn straight.”
They had a very nice dinner. Lucky ate well. Annie found that nothing on her plate had any taste, and what little she did eat she had to choke down. How had everything in her life gotten so out of hand? And it was terribly and completely out of hand. There was a killer loose in Mercerville, and no one but Lucky would ever believe her. This killer who had invaded her dreams had chosen his next victims, and Lucky was determined that they should step into the psycho’s line of vision and take their place.
Worse, she was developing entirely inappropriate feelings for an entirely inappropriate man.
While she toyed with her crème brûlée, Lucky sipped coffee. Now and then he glanced around the table and down. Finally, he settled his gaze on her boots and sighed. “Is that what you call dancing shoes?”
“I don’t dance,” she said, lifting a small bite of dessert to her mouth. “At least, not in public. When I dance it’s alone, in the safety of my own house where no one else can see.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes.” She offered him a bite of her dessert. “Don’t you want a taste?”
He shook his head.
She didn’t lower the spoon. “Come on. It’ll look very sexy to anyone who’s watching.”
“When you change the subject, you do so very abruptly,” he said. “Have you never heard of the segue?”
“I feel like an idiot, sitting here with my hand out and you practically ignoring me,” she responded, waggling the spoon so that the crème brûlée danced. “It certainly doesn’t paint a pretty picture. I hope the man we’re looking for isn’t watching.”
Lucky leaned forward slowly, tilting toward her. He opened his mouth, and it approached the spoon she held. Very slowly, he closed his lips over the spoon and pulled back, taking the dessert into his mouth. The ingestion of one bite of food should not be sexy, but something deep inside her tilted and whirled. Her heart thumped too hard.
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