She blushed, then turned around swiftly and snatched a colorful handbag from the sofa.
Great. If she could see into his head so clearly and easily, then she knew he wanted her. Not that he cared that she knew. They were two unattached adults who’d had dynamite sex and did not want that one eventful morning to be the end of it.
Whether she’d admit it or not, Annie still wanted him, and he didn’t have to be psychic to know it. All it had taken to confirm the suspicion was that one telling kiss.
Chapter 10
Behind the bed-and-breakfast where guests slept in antique beds and ate in a dining room that could easily accommodate twenty sat a much smaller house where Kristie and Stu Bentley lived. Kristie spent much of her time in the bed-and-breakfast, cooking, cleaning and playing hostess to her guests, but this much smaller carriage house was home to her and her husband. The décor throughout was a bit more modern, and the dining room was just right for four people. The small, round oak table would be crowded with six diners, and impossible with eight.
All through dinner at that oak table, Annie felt as if someone was watching her. Goose bumps rose up on her arms, and the back of her neck tingled. Kristie was a great cook, but the food tasted like cardboard in her mouth. Even Lucky in his undercover duds couldn’t distract her enough to dismiss the odd sensation of being under constant observation. When Kristie reached for the rolls and knocked over her glass of iced tea, Annie jumped out of her chair as if she’d heard a gunshot, even though the spilled tea didn’t come anywhere near her.
Her heart pounded. If Lucky wasn’t sitting next to her, cool as could be, she’d probably run from the house screaming. Was it possible that he was right in naming Stu a suspect? While she couldn’t put her finger on the sensations that flitted and jumped through her body, she did feel like the killer was watching her closely.
If it was Stu—and she wasn’t ready to accept that it could be—then Kristie was entirely innocent. Poor thing, she’d need the support of her friends, if it turned out that her new husband was a murderer. Annie wracked her brain to remember every word Kristie had said about Stu. They hadn’t known one another for a very long time, she did remember that. Kristie said she’d been swept off her feet by Stu, who in Annie’s opinion was not the sweeping type. Lucky, on the other hand…
If Lucky sensed that anything was wrong, you’d never know it from the way he acted. All through dinner he and Stu talked about football and baseball and—to her surprise—lawn care. She wouldn’t have expected Lucky to know anything about different types of grass and fertilizer, but he did. She knew he had a house, but she’d always suspected he hired out all his yardwork. Maybe not. Maybe she didn’t know everything about him, after all.
He was very good at hiding his feelings. If he still suspected Stu Bentley of being the man who’d murdered the Huffs, no one would ever know it.
Now and then Lucky took her hand beneath the table and gently squeezed in a gesture of support and comfort. Unlike him, she was a total failure at hiding how she felt. Lucky knew she was nervous.
He likely didn’t know she felt as if the man who’d invaded her dreams with his violence was close. Very close.
After supper, they sat in the den and visited for a while. The house was quiet, and Kristie didn’t have to run over to the main house as she did most evenings, since the group staying at the bed-and-breakfast was not yet back from their day trip to Gatlinburg. Kristie had the energy of a hummingbird. There were always a few guests in the bed-and-breakfast, and at certain times of the year it was filled to capacity. And on a rare evening off, she chose to entertain. Did she ever sit still for more than a few minutes? Lucky was right; Kristie was perky.
Eventually, Lucky stood and told their host and hostess that it was getting late and they needed to go. Even though Annie adored Kristie and usually loved spending time with her and her husband, she’d never been so grateful to get out of any place. When she left this carriage house, would she also leave behind the sensation of being under a microscope?
Guilt didn’t help matters any. Kristie was her friend, and she felt as if she were betraying that friendship by bringing Lucky here to spy, to observe Annie’s friends as if they were specimens under a microscope.
But if Stu was the killer…
Lucky held her hand as they stepped onto the front porch. The gesture wasn’t entirely for show. His car was parked in the narrow gravel driveway, very close to the wide covered porch. Dark shadows surrounded the house, beyond the small circle of light the front porch lamps cast. Not too far away, the warm, welcoming lights of the bed-and-breakfast shone, so out of place in the modern world, it was almost surreal. Lace curtains draped perfectly in the windows, and the mellow light that shone through the narrow old panes came, in some instances, from antique lamps. In many of the windows, antique figurines sat on wide windowsills.
Beyond the rear porch of the main house there were more shadows, shadows that were deep and unfathomable. Was the person she felt watching out there? Or standing right behind her? She didn’t know, not with any certainty. The phone rang, and Kristie rushed to answer. Stu said good-night and closed the door.
Instead of hurrying them to his car, Lucky sat on the front step and pulled Annie down to sit beside him. His arm went around her, natural and easy and very welcomed, and he pulled her close.
“What the hell is wrong?” he whispered.
She shook her head. Not here. Not here where someone—like Stu—might hear.
He touched one wayward lock of her hair and let his fingers linger. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Annie Lockhart, and I’m not just talking about the obvious oddities.”
She knew what he was talking about—her psychic abilities—but still, oddities? “Gee, thanks.”
He studied her for a long moment, and then he took her hand. It was a gesture of comfort, she knew, even though Lucky wasn’t the type of man who normally offered comfort. He was a “get over it” kinda guy, where problems were concerned. If he couldn’t shoot at it or capture it, then he didn’t think there was anything else he could do to help. But right now, when all her problems were on the inside, he was pretty good at the comforting thing.
He might never say so, but he did care about her.
“There are a couple of things I should tell you about me,” he said, brushing his thumb across the palm of her hand. “Do I have any secrets left where you’re concerned?”
“A few,” she answered honestly.
“I suppose I should be grateful for that much.” He sounded like he was teasing, but Lucky never teased, right?
“What is it that you want to tell me?” she asked.
Instead of answering right away he kissed her, and she opened her lips to him, gratefully and hungrily. And while he kissed her, the sensation of being watched faded. Lucky had the power to push whatever unnatural abilities she possessed deep, so that they weren’t resting so closely, so fragile, just under the skin. At the moment the only thing under her skin was Lucky Santana.
She liked it.
He lay beneath the house on the cool ground, very still, hardly breathing. Maybe it had been foolish to choose to watch a couple who lived near a public house that was so often busy. People came and went at all hours. In a way that only added to the excitement of watching and listening, but the traffic in and out of the bed-and-breakfast also made it very difficult to plan his next move.
Tonight, the visiting couple had stolen his interest. Next to Annie Lockhart and the man she’d taken up with, the Bentleys paled. They seemed ordinary, even dull.
Instead of remaining in place and listening to her talk on the phone while he began to gather dirty dishes, he scooted toward the front porch, moving very slowly and without making a sound. Annie and her boyfriend were still there, and they were talking in hushed tones.
He’d seen them around town over the past week. They were an odd couple, obviously drawn together by sexual attraction. Santana was a bit of a brute, even w
hen he wore a suit that was apparently supposed to make him look more respectable. Maybe his obvious mixed blood had given him an inferiority complex. No amount of window dressing could make Santana look like anything less than the brute he was.
The man hiding beneath the house wasn’t really interested in sexual attraction. It was explosive, especially in the early stages of a relationship, but sex didn’t last. Not like true love. In a few days or a few weeks, Santana would be gone. He didn’t belong here; he didn’t belong with Annie.
When he’d moved as far as he could toward the front porch, which wasn’t all the way thanks to a slope of the land beneath him, he stopped and strained to listen. They were still there. Kissing, judging by the soft sounds that drifted his way.
He closed his eyes, and listened hard. The kiss went on for a while, and then it was followed by a feminine sigh.
“How do you do it?” Annie asked. “I swear, there are moments when you make everything else go away.”
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
Annie made a sound that might’ve been a soft, half laugh. It was hard to tell, without seeing her face. “I can’t believe I miss the suit.”
Santana’s answer was a soft growl. “I can’t believe I’m starting to think those army boots are sexy. Maybe it’s because I know under there the toenails are red. Very sexy stuff, hiding something so feminine under boots that look as if they belong in my closet, not yours.”
The porch creaked as they stood, and then they kissed again.
He remembered what it was like to be so in love, it was impossible to keep his hands off of the woman he loved. He remembered what it was like to kiss, and kiss again. That comment Annie had made about making everything go away, it was very romantic.
Maybe there was love here, after all.
For a moment he was distracted. True, Santana was big and would put up quite a fight, if the opportunity arose, but then again, with the proper drugs in his system he wouldn’t be able to fight at all. He’d be manageable enough. And as for Annie, she was just a little slip of a thing, and by the time she thought to put up a struggle, it would be too late.
From the house above, soft laughter sounded. It rolled and grew and filled the crawl space where he hid with warmth. He dismissed Annie and Santana, as they walked away from the house. Maybe they were in love, maybe one day he’d choose to watch them and share in that love, for a while.
But for now, Kristie and Stu filled the void that made him feel so empty and lost. They would continue to complete him, they would continue to fill that void until they disappointed him. When that happened, he’d make them pay.
Of course, it was always possible that the Bentleys wouldn’t disappoint him, that they would continue to bring happiness to his sad life for many years to come. He was happy here, lying on the packed earth listening to them laugh and share the details of their day.
In the end they all disappointed him, but he had hope that Stu and Kristie would be different. And if they were like all the rest, well, then maybe he’d turn his attentions to Annie and Santana.
Lucky set the alarms he’d installed, as soon as they were in the cabin with the door closed behind them. There were not only alarms on every door and window, but on the driveway, and along the perimeter of her property. She wasn’t convinced that the killer would ever turn his attentions their way, but if he did, he wouldn’t get close without Lucky knowing he was here.
While he tended to the alarms, she built a small fire in the fireplace. He’d stacked wood nearby that afternoon, so they could have a fire without fetching logs from the woodpile after dark. With a starter log and lots of kindling the fire was blazing in no time.
She sat on the sofa and watched the flames, and a moment later Lucky joined her. His arm went casually and comfortably around her.
“Better?” he asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Want to tell me why you were so antsy tonight?”
She shuddered. “I felt like I was being watched all night. Maybe I just felt that way because you added Stu to the list of suspects, and he was right there and I hate lying to Kristie about everything. You, the Huffs, your suspicions…my visions.”
“You can’t keep hiding them, you know.”
“They’ll go away once you catch the guy,” she insisted.
“What if they don’t?” He gently forced her to look him in the eye. “What if this time they stay?”
Annie sighed. “I don’t want to be a freak. I just want…”
“What do you want, Annie?”
I want you to love me. She was very glad, at that moment, that Lucky couldn’t read her mind. A confession like that would send him running.
“I want you to hold me.”
That was one request he didn’t mind agreeing to. He did as she asked; he took her in his arms and held her. Why was it that Lucky had the ability to chase away all these things that frightened her? Visions, loneliness, the feeling that no one would ever want her the way she wanted him at this moment.
“I can’t stay,” he said, his fingers in her hair and his body so close to hers, she could almost drink in his body heat and his heartbeat.
“I know. But you’re here now, and maybe that’s enough.” She still wasn’t into casual sex, but what if she never again felt this way? What if Lucky was her one shot at the real thing, and she sent him on his way because he couldn’t offer her forever?
“Maybe,” he said, pulling the one uncertain word from her sentence and throwing it back at her. Gently, of course.
Annie laid her lips on Lucky’s neck and kissed, allowing her mouth to linger so she could taste his skin. She sucked gently, drawing in his scent. Wonderfully, amazingly, she didn’t think of anything else but the way her body reached for his, the way her heart beat too fast when he held her.
She ran her hand up his thigh and traced the length of his zipper with her fingernails. Beneath the worn black jeans he was hard. Ready. Her palm settled over him and she took a deep breath before looking him squarely in the eye. “You’re here now,” she said again. “That’s enough.”
Annie had insisted on sleeping in his bed instead of her own, and he hadn’t questioned the decision. Lucky didn’t care which room they shared, as long as there was a bed in it.
Since he knew he couldn’t stick around once the case was over, he should steer clear of her. At least he’d warned her that he couldn’t stay. At least he wasn’t the only one taking advantage of the situation; she’d told him plainly enough that he made the visions abate. Sometimes he even made them go away entirely. Maybe that’s why she threw herself so wholeheartedly into making love. It was an escape, a respite from the visions that disturbed her.
Then again, maybe she just liked the sex. It was powerful enough to be enjoyable for its own sake.
She slept naked, and so did he. The hallway night-light burned softly, giving off just enough light to illuminate all but the deepest corners of the room. With Annie caught up against his side, he tried to sleep—and couldn’t.
If her ability was real, and he was beginning to believe that was the truth, then how much did she know? Too much, that was certain, and that was just another reason for him to leave this place as soon as possible.
He was thirty-six years old, and he’d been married once. That relationship—the only serious relationship he’d ever had—had been an unmitigated disaster, enough so that he hadn’t even considered committing himself to one woman since then. Did that make him a wuss? Or a very smart man? There had been a time when he’d had no doubt about the answer to that question, but right now—he wasn’t so sure anymore.
If he ever did decide to settle down, maybe he should snag a woman like Annie. Sweet, funny, sexy, off-the-wall and full of surprises. He really should find someone without the psychic ability, though. It was a little creepy, knowing she might glimpse a thought or an image from his mind at any moment. How was a man supposed to get the upper hand when his woman kne
w what he was thinking?
His woman. It was an alarming idea, but he knew himself well enough to know that the minute Annie was out of danger she’d lose her appeal. At least, that was the way it usually worked. Still, he knew Annie was different from every other woman he’d ever known. She was special. She really and truly was his.
As if Annie instinctively knew he had awakened, she rolled to face him and opened her eyes. “You need your sleep,” she said, her voice warm and sexy and more than a little dreamy. Her hand settled comfortably on his chest, and the fingers there rocked.
“If we’re going to be involved, there are things you should know about me.”
She sighed. “And you accuse me of being unfamiliar with the segue.” Her eyes opened wider. “Wait a minute. Are we involved? I mean, more than—”
“Yes, dammit, we’re involved.”
Annie smiled and closed her eyes and made a sound rather like a satisfied cat. “And you said we have nothing in common….”
“I was married once.”
That comment stole Annie’s satisfied smile. Maybe she didn’t know everything after all.
“It was a long time ago, and it didn’t last more than a year. My wife left me when she found out about my father.”
“It’s stupid to blame a man for his father’s actions, whatever they might be.”
“You don’t know?”
Again, her hand rocked against his skin, very naturally. “I don’t know everything, Lucky, not even when we’re this close. Thank goodness. I don’t want to know everything. It would be paralyzing, I imagine.” She settled against his chest, so that he could no longer see her face well. “You can tell me, if you’d like, but you don’t have to. I like you. You’re a good man. Nothing’s going to change that.”
He wanted to believe her, but a part of him didn’t dare. Only a handful of people knew about his father. Once people knew the truth, they didn’t look at him the same way anymore. His own wife had been afraid of him once she’d discovered the secret.
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