“Payment came in on the Mercerville job.” Kelly waved the envelope she held, while Lucky rose to his feet.
“It did, huh?”
“Payment in full, along with a glowing letter of recommendation for you and an extra two thousand dollars. I think it’s a tip.”
“A…what?”
“You heard me. I don’t have any idea how to handle this, from a bookkeeping standpoint.”
Lucky snatched the envelope from Kelly’s hand. “That’s all right. I know exactly how to handle it.”
Annie hummed a soft tune as she took the peach cobbler from the oven and placed it on the counter. It took her a moment to recognize the song, and when she did she smiled widely.
She wasn’t a huge fan of the oldies, but everyone knew “Someone To Watch Over Me.” It might as well be Lucky’s theme song.
She’d awakened this morning feeling better than she’d felt in a long time. The nightmares were gone, and had been since the murderer’s capture. Whatever psychic abilities she had remained muted—but not dormant, as they had been for so long.
Last week she’d been obsessed with finishing as many holiday handbags as possible, and yesterday afternoon, just before closing, three women on vacation had come in and almost cleaned her out. All their friends would be getting bags for Christmas this year.
As she inhaled deep to enjoy the aroma of the cobbler, the vision that had greeted her this morning as she’d opened her eyes returned.
Lucky, naked and in her bed, the fan whirring over his shoulder.
He was coming back.
She’d dressed in a lightweight sweater, which was perfect for the autumn day, her most comfortable hip-hugger jeans and the boots Lucky said he didn’t like—but secretly did. While the cobbler cooled, she fixed her hair and chose earrings and put on a little lip gloss.
And then she went to the front porch to wait. She chose the steps over a rocking chair, since she was much too anxious to relax.
Less than a half hour later, she heard Lucky’s car coming up the hill, and the first of her doubts assaulted her. Sure, she knew he was coming back, but would he stay? Maybe she wasn’t meant to see what was to come. Maybe nothing besides the visit to her bed was decided.
But oh, the future held so many wonderful possibilities.
Lucky parked close to the front porch. He slammed the car door as he exited, catching her eye immediately. There was no way he could miss her, since she was sitting between him and the front door, obviously waiting for him.
He’d come to her in his best suit, hair freshly cut, cheeks smooth, shoes polished. He held a familiar envelope in one hand, and as he stalked toward the cabin he shook it at her. “A tip? Have you lost your mind?”
“Not recently,” she answered with a smile.
He looked at her so hard, she felt that steely glare to her bones. As she watched, the glare softened. “You look good.”
“So do you.”
“Is everything all right?”
She leaned back, resting her elbows on the step behind her. “Pretty much.”
She saw him tense. “Just pretty much? What’s wrong?”
“You’re not here.”
He didn’t like that answer, apparently. He immediately changed the subject, tossing the envelope to her like a Frisbee. “What’s with this crap? A tip?”
“Is that why you came back? To return my gratuity?”
He snorted. “Gratuity my ass.” He took another step toward the porch, and her. “You’re not paying a dime, much less a freakin’ gratuity. Thanks to you, a serial killer is off the street. That shouldn’t come with a bill.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. I guess I can open that Pigeon Forge store after all.”
“Or not.” Lucky sat beside her, but he didn’t touch her.
“What do you mean by that? I’ve been planning to open a new, bigger store for years, and I finally have the money saved. Why the or not?”
Lucky looked down at her, those amber eyes she’d loved from the beginning touching her to the pit of her soul. “I think Nashville would be a much better location for a new store.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to be running the Nashville office, beginning after the first of the year, and the commute from Mercerville would be a bitch.”
Annie smiled. The smile was wide and real and unstoppable. “You’re going to stay.”
“Either that, or you’re coming home with me. I don’t care which, as long as I can wake up to see your face every morning.”
“I have a few bad memories of Nashville, you know,” she said, unworried and willing to try anything that would keep her and Lucky together.
“I’ll protect you,” he promised.
“I know you will.” She also knew the good memories they would make would wipe away all the old bad ones. Right now, what had happened there so long ago seemed very, very unimportant.
Lucky finally, finally kissed her, and when the kiss was done, Annie was breathless. She held on to Lucky and rested her head on his shoulder. “I suppose I should be annoyed that you didn’t ask me if I want to live with you, but…”
“Marry me,” he said. “I’m strangely old-fashioned that way. We’re getting married.”
Annie sighed and smiled some more. “We are?”
“We are. Soon.”
Very soon, she suspected. No, she knew. Her psychic abilities might be muted where everyone else was concerned, but with Lucky that wasn’t the case. They were forever connected, soul deep and rock solid.
He stood, took her hand and led her into the house. With the door closed behind him, he lifted her off her feet and carried her out of the den, down the hallway and to her bed. He undressed her, and she undressed him and then they fell into the bed naked and hungry. She hadn’t known it was possible to want—to need—anyone or anything so much.
There was no practiced seduction this time, no teasing or drawn-out foreplay. A few kisses and they were both beyond ready. Lucky guided himself into her and made love to her, rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm that made time stop. Annie closed her eyes and got lost in the sensations they created.
She opened her eyes and caught her breath. This was it. This was the moment she had seen for so long. Lucky above her, the fan whirring slowly, the scar on his shoulder…
They came together, and everything but the beauty of the moment was forgotten. The past didn’t matter, and neither did the future. There was only now. This moment, this day.
Lucky lowered his head and kissed her, slowly this time. He was sated, for the moment. Relaxed and satisfied and…happy.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you, too.” She raked her fingers through his hair. Was that it? Was that confession the reason she’d always seen this moment where he was concerned?
She didn’t think so. She’d known for a while that he loved her, whether he would actually admit it or not.
A new vision wiped away the old one, and the power of it, the certainty, wiped away everything else.
A little dark-haired, blue-eyed girl who looked like her father and had her mother’s gift. A child who would have dreams that were more than dreams, who would know when her daddy was going to be late from work or when her mama was going to burn the cookies. A psychic much more powerful than her mother would ever be. A little girl whose laugh would grab Annie’s heart, and Lucky’s. A daughter who would be loved, so much, by her parents.
A baby, who would arrive in nine months or so.
Annie laughed and held Lucky close. “So, what do you think about babies?”
“I hear they smell bad,” he teased, and then he rose up slightly and looked into her eyes. A moment later, he blinked and uttered an uncertain, “Oh.” And then, mere seconds later, he returned her smile. “I’m ready for anything. How about you?”
Anything, love. Anything at all.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5969-4
LUCKY’S WOMAN
/> Copyright © 2006 by Linda Winstead Jones
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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Lucky's Woman Page 19
