by Lily Black
“Don’t tell me you’ve learned to cook and can make use of this kitchen,” Alexa said with a teasing grin.
Drew arched his eyebrows and gave her a look of mock ferocity. “Disparage my cooking skills at your own risk. My culinary arts can make you abandon all common sense and embrace never-before-considered indulgent delicacies.”
Alexa laughed, the sound coming out a little more breathless than she had intended. Looking at that warm, intense look in Drew’s eyes, she could almost forget the jagged wedge of hurt and animosity between them. Almost. She made her smile merely polite. “I look forward to a demonstration.”
Drew nodded. “Consider it done.” He waved her through the kitchen and led her down a short hall with a bathroom door and a row of closets. Alexa followed him, though it had just occurred to her that he was leading her to her bedroom… and once again, her imagination took off in all kinds of wild fantasies. First among them was the image of Drew stopping—anywhere in the hallway would be fine—and turning to her. He would swear his undying love for her and confess that he’d been taken over by an alien or acting on secret operative orders when he’d been so rude to her. They would stare into each other’s eyes, mouths parting, and time would slow down. Then they would rush into a tender embrace and tear each other’s clothes off. That was where her conscious mind pulled up.
They would rush into a tender embrace and tear each other’s clothes off? Like either of them would be stupid enough to pull a stunt like that with a stalker on the loose. Moreover, she didn’t even like Drew, and she wasn’t the kind of girl to jump into bed with a guy she didn’t like. She shook her head, hard, and was grateful for the dark hallway, which hid the heat she could feel in her face. By the time they reached the guest bedroom at the end of the hall, Alexa thought she had her libido under control. All the same, she decided to pass on going in the bedroom with Drew—not when just being in his house made her insides all warm and melted, like gooey chocolate chip cookies straight out of the oven.
She waited outside the bedroom door while Drew went in and hung her garment bag in the closet. When he came out, she moved to go inside and quickly realized her mistake. By staying out in the hall, she’d left them hardly any room to pass each other. Would Drew think she’d done it on purpose? That she’d accepted his invitation for safety with the intent of getting in his bed?
Her already-warm face flamed, and she tried to keep as much space as possible between them as she passed.
Unfortunately, that backfired. She bumped into the doorjamb and bounced off it.
“Easy.” Drew’s strong arms came up to steady Alexa, partially circling her. He smelled of cedar, sunshine, and something else, something that was just Drew. He flashed a grin, his white teeth a stark contrast to his tanned skin and black hair. His touch simultaneously took her breath away and embarrassed her with its intimacy, raising goose bumps along her arms. What was with her tonight? She usually had better self-control. It must be some kind of post-traumatic turn-on.
“Sorry.” She jerked free and stepped inside the bedroom, shutting the door before her flaming red face could give her away.
She leaned against the door and listened to the sound of Drew’s footsteps moving down the hall. What had she been thinking, coming here?
Simple, that she had a stalker and nowhere else to go.
Alexa took a deep, steadying breath and told herself to get a grip. She hadn’t thrown herself at Drew, nor was she a besotted and desperate ex-girlfriend trying to rekindle the flame. She was a professional, intelligent enough to know when she needed help facing down a problem. Drew was giving her that help, but his doing so changed nothing between them.
Time to get her mind on other things. Alexa pushed away from the door and took a look around the guest bedroom. Most of the furniture was a gorgeous aged mahogany and looked sturdy in the way handcrafted items did. The warm tones of the furniture were accented with a vase of white asters that looked almost real on a side table, and delicate white curtains at the window. Framed photos hung on the walls, showing everyday scenes in European towns.
Alexa moved closer to one photo showing a flower market on a bridge in Italy. She noticed the small signature in the bottom right-hand corner. “Dan Cosimo.” Drew’s father.
Walking around the room, she studied each picture. A church in the background of one photo identified the picture as taken in Wales. In the foreground was an old lady showing her knitting to her freckled granddaughter.
Alexa was pretty sure she was looking at the canals of St. Petersburg in another picture, but the foreground showed a young man with black hair, painting on his easel. A second picture taken in Russia revealed snow piled high over village roofs. A crisp sun rose behind them, and shades of pink lit the onion domes in the distance.
The last photo was a close-up of an older building. Vines climbed the walls, and a lovely wooden door was set back in a deep encasement. A black knocker in the center of the door and the stylistic carving of a lionlike face at the top of the casement added a fascinating touch to an otherwise common scene. If she had to hazard a guess, Alexa would place that door as German, but she couldn’t be sure, just as she was only guessing that the close-up of tulips was taken in Holland.
Alexa sat on the bed and looked around. She’d never been to Europe or anywhere else so exotic, but looking at these pictures, she almost felt as if she had. The photographs had a clarity to them, and the mature composition rivaled anything she’d seen published in the travel magazines she loved to pore over in the library. How had Drew’s father learned to take pictures like that, and why hadn’t he become a professional photographer?
She didn’t remember much about Dan Cosimo. She’d only met him once, briefly, when he had come to see Drew for an afternoon while Drew was staying with his granddad. She understood Dan Cosimo was military of some kind, like Drew, but she didn’t know which branch. Who would’ve guessed that the tall, rigid man she’d met had such an eye for capturing the soul of a place in film? It made her wonder how well she knew any of the people she saw every day. After all, if the stalker wasn’t Jason Stone, he was most likely hiding among her acquaintances.
Alexa’s cell phone rang, making her jump just a little.
The number was Keri’s. “Hello?”
“Hey, how’s the foot? Is it going to keep you from opening for sparring tomorrow?” Keri asked.
“No, it’s sore but not bad. I’m still planning on coming.” Alexa tucked the phone against her shoulder and started unpacking the garment bag.
“Great, ’cause after sparring, a bunch of us are going to the Saturday street festival. Want to come? We can grab seats by the bands so we’re not walking much.”
Normally, the Saturday street festival was a favorite pastime of Alexa’s, but the crowds and commotion sounded like a recipe for disaster right now. The festival would be the ideal environment for her stalker, because she wouldn’t know him from the rest of the crowd. Alexa had to suppress a shudder. “Talk about creepy,” she muttered.
“What’s that?” Keri asked, surprised.
“Oh, nothing,” Alexa said. “Just that I think I’ll pass on the festival tomorrow.” She wanted to tell her friend what was going on, but Detective Rawlings had told her not to tell anyone where she was staying, and that included even Keri.
Alexa went on. “I doubt my foot will be up for it after sparring, so I’ll probably go into the library and catch up on cataloging and sorting the latest donations. With the big sale on Tuesday, I shouldn’t fall behind.”
“How much is your foot hurting?” Keri sounded concerned. “Do you need me to come over and help you carry books or whatever in the morning?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” Alexa stretched her foot out to look at. She didn’t want Keri to stop by her house the next morning and find her missing. “It’s a bit puffy, but the bruising and scrapes are all surface. I’m using it
mostly normally now… but I do need to get those library books done.”
“It’s probably smarter if you take it easy tomorrow, anyway.” Even though Keri agreed, she sounded a little bummed. “I’m glad your reason for skipping the festival is just your foot. You had me worried for a minute there that this stalker got to you somehow and warned you away from your friends.”
Alexa winced but forced a laugh. “If he tries that, I’ll be sure to warn him about a black belt’s loyalty.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Keri’s voice sounded distant for a second, as if she’d looked away. “I better go. See you tomorrow.”
Alexa hung up then sat back down on the bed and looked at her phone. It was hard, keeping things from her friend. And she didn’t think it would really have hurt anyone to tell Keri about the stalker’s latest attack and what he’d done to her cats.
She got up and limped around, unpacking. The trouble was, Keri would want to hear all about it and demand to know where Alexa was staying and how she was safe. And in truth, Alexa couldn’t be absolutely positive Keri would keep the secret that she was staying with Drew. Her friend would mean well, but Keri wasn’t naturally suspicious, so she might spill something to someone she shouldn’t because she didn’t see them as a threat.
No, it was better for now if Alexa just stayed quietly hidden, with only her, Drew, and Detective Rawlings in on the game. While lying to her friend wasn’t her favorite thing, it did have the plus side of postponing the embarrassing questions Keri was sure to ask about Drew.
As Alexa closed the closet door, a delicious smell wafted into the bedroom, and her stomach rumbled in response. It had been hours since she’d had a quick bite at Marcellino’s, and she hadn’t eaten a whole lot before that. Lucky for her, it smelled as though Drew was making good on his promise of food.
She grabbed her toiletry bag and stepped out into the hall, turning away from the kitchen and heading toward the bathroom she’d noticed at the end of the hall. If Drew was going to go all out and cook for her, the least she could do was look presentable when she showed up at the table. Not because she wanted to impress him, of course. She just didn’t want to be the one shabby thing in his beautiful house.
Drew heard a door open and shut down the hall, and his gut tightened in anticipation of Alexa joining him. It was ridiculous, really. From the way his nerves were spiking, it felt as if he’d been called up before the colonel.
He added the asiago cheese to the salad and tossed it then set it on the table and stepped back. He didn’t know how hungry she would be or what food she liked best, so he’d gone Mediterranean and whipped up several small dishes. Alexa could pick and choose what she wanted and hopefully find something that suited her.
She stopped in the kitchen doorway, and her eyes roamed hungrily over the dishes arranged on the table. When she looked at Drew, he put on his most charming smile and pulled out her chair.
She stepped forward. “Clearly, I was wrong to challenge you. This all smells amazing.”
“An amazing meal for an amazing lady.” When she stopped short, Drew realized instantly that she took his comment as a compliment of her looks—and didn’t appreciate it. He plowed on. “What you did tonight, the way you handled yourself with your cats, you were amazing.”
Alexa flushed a little, but she continued to her chair and sat. Drew caught a scent of something citrusy as he pushed in her chair. Her hair fell in smooth waves of honey brown and looked incredibly touchable. She’d freshened up before she came out, he was sure of it, and his chest swelled a little that she’d taken the trouble. Drew took his own seat across from Alexa.
She cleared her throat, but her voice still sounded a little husky when she spoke. Maybe she was as nervous as he was. “What do we have here? I recognize some of these but don’t know their names.”
She sounded impressed, and Drew felt a flood of pride. “The one with the shrimp is couscous paella, and beside it is roasted eggplant and feta, which you can dip with pita chips. This orange soup is a pumpkin curry soup, and then of course there’s the salad, which has asiago cheese.”
“Wow.” Alexa’s eyes spoke her enjoyment, and she made an appreciative sound after popping in a chip full of the eggplant and feta.
Drew couldn’t help himself; he spooned up a bit of the pumpkin soup and passed it to her. “Here, try this.”
She barely hesitated before taking the bait, and when she did, her eyes flew wide open and her mouth made a sensuous little pout. “Mmm, that’s good!”
Drew grinned and just managed to stop himself from spoon-feeding it to her. He was getting way too much of a thrill out of feeding her. While he would like to think it was all motivated by a protective desire to follow Detective Rawlings’s orders and make sure Alexa ate, the burning in his groin said otherwise. He could watch her eat all evening without caring about his own food, if only she’d let him.
Alexa took another bite, again with obvious enjoyment. Down, boy! He hadn’t gotten where he was in life by following his baser instincts wherever they led him, and he wasn’t about to start now. He hadn’t even been thinking about the fact that Alexa still hated his guts and, moreover, had a stalker creep gunning for her. No way was he going to be the man she chose as her only alternative to a stalker.
Time for a little idle conversation to lighten things up. Too bad he sucked at chitchat. Drew cleared his throat. “It’s a good thing I made it to the store yesterday and had the pumpkin and eggplant on hand. Otherwise, we would have had nothing but spaghetti.”
“Spaghetti’s good too,” Alexa said.
She puckered her lips as she blew on her soup, and Drew’s imagination instantly replaced the soup with her slurping on a long, skinny spaghetti noodle. He shifted in his seat.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?” Alexa asked.
Drew shrugged but mentally leapt at the chance to get his mind out of the gutter. “I spent time in the Mediterranean while on assignment, and I liked the food. While Dad was having chemo, he needed to eat, but he didn’t have much of an appetite, so I taught myself to cook. Dad always loved homemade European food.”
Alexa tilted her head, her eyes on his face. “Your dad spent a lot of time in Europe, I take it?”
Drew nodded. “We were based out of Europe for several years. Germany, Italy, Greece.”
“Is that when he took the photos? I saw some from Russia too. And one in Wales.” She added salad to her plate and dug in.
“You recognized the church in Wales?” Drew asked, impressed.
Alexa colored a bit. “I like to study history, and sometimes I look at travel magazines.”
He opened his mouth to ask if she would ever like to visit Wales but caught himself just in time. What was he thinking? It would sound as though he were asking her to go with him, and no way was that a good idea.
He took a quick bite of soup to cover his pause. “I think he took those trips after I was grown, though it’s hard to say.” Drew kept his tone casual and watched Alexa take a bite of salad. “He was MI, so we never knew for sure where he was on assignment.”
“MI–that’s military intelligence, right?” Alexa asked. “Aren’t those assignments pretty dangerous?”
Drew nodded. “Sometimes—though much of it is paperwork and analysis. But if he was doing any dangerous work in the field, he was always protected by Special Forces. That’s part of why I became a Ranger. As a Ranger, I was a part of the military teams that used to keep my dad safe.”
Alexa went still. “What a beautiful thought. Did your dad know that’s how you saw it?”
Drew shrugged a little uncomfortably. “I don’t know. Maybe. We swapped stories some, while I was taking care of him, but I don’t know if it ever came up.”
Nodding, Alexa took another bite, but Drew didn’t try to fill the conversation lull.
How was it that he’d just told
Alexa something so personal that he’d never even explained it to his dad? Was it just because she was female and easier to talk to? Or was it something more? And if there was something more, what did that mean for him?
Chapter Seven
Drew felt as if a grenade had gone off inside his head. Of course he’d known he was attracted to Alexa. But there was a long way from attraction to suspecting he still had feelings for her. Trusting her, on a visceral level, made opening up to her feel perfectly natural. Why had it never occurred to him that he could want more from Alexa than a positive business relationship? Probably because he knew he would never have a chance with her.
But if someone had told him a week ago that tonight he would be watching her savor his couscous paella after dropping her overnight bag in his guest bedroom, he would have told them to get their head checked. Besides, once a Ranger, always a Ranger. And Rangers could do anything they set their minds to.
He smiled to himself at that thought. His gut reaction to anyone telling him he couldn’t do something had always been to go out and do it. But no way was he really dumb enough to pursue Alexa just because she was hard to catch. His training—and his life since leaving his battalion—had taught him to consider his objective carefully and make sure the goal justified its pursuit.
And that left him right back where he started, with a gut saying go and a head holding back. He shook off the entire issue and set his mind to dealing with the mission at hand: keeping Alexa safe from her stalker.
To that end, he scooped a chunk of dip onto his pita and set about getting some intel. “You mentioned a sparring class. What time do you need to roll in the morning? And what time will you wrap up your day?”
“Saturday sparring is from nine to noon. We split the students into two groups, based on age, and give them each an hour and a half.” Alexa set down her spoon, though her food was only half gone. “Afterwards, I’ll need to meet with Detective Rawlings. I can do that somewhere handy to the dojo, so you won’t need to pick me up ’til a little later. Maybe I can call when I’m ready?”
