“I don’t remember the title,” she said, tasting the pasta. “But it was about a woman looking for her missing sister and she finds the sister’s killer, instead.”
He nodded. “Relative Danger. That was my third book.”
“First and last for me,” she assured him. “I slept with the light on for two weeks.”
“Thanks.” He studied her. “Did you read the whole book? Or did you stop because it scared you?”
“Who stops in the middle of a book?” she demanded, outraged at the idea. “No, I read the whole thing and, terror aside, it ended well.”
“Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome. You know, this is really good,” she said, taking another bite. “Your mom teach you how to cook?”
His face went hard and tight. He lowered his gaze to his plate and muttered, “No. Learned by trial and error.”
Sore spot, she told herself and changed the subject. She had secret, painful corners in her own soul, so she wouldn’t poke at his. “How’s your book coming? The one you’re working on now, I mean.”
He frowned before answering. “Slower than I’d like.”
“Why?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“The only way to get answers.”
“True.” He took a sip of wine. “Because the book’s set in a small town and I don’t know small towns.”
“Hello?” Laughing, she said, “You’re in one.”
“Yeah. That’s why I came here in the first place. My agent suggested it. He stayed here a couple of years ago for the skiing and thought the town would work for my research.”
“Here, here?” she asked. “I mean, did he stay at the Victorian?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s his name?”
“Sam Hellman. He and his wife, Jenny, were here for a week.”
“I remember them. She’s very pretty and sweet and he’s funny.”
“That’s them,” Micah agreed.
Kelly took a drink of her wine. “Well, first, I’m glad your agent had a good time here. Word of mouth? Best advertising.”
“For books, too,” he agreed.
“But if you want to use the town for its setting and ambience, it might help if you left the house and explored a little. Get to know the place.”
He ate for a couple of minutes, then finally said, “Getting out doesn’t get the typing done.”
Kelly shrugged and set down her glass. “But you can’t get to know the town by looking through a window, either. And, if you don’t know what it’s like here, you’ve got nothing to type anyway, right?”
“I don’t much like that you’ve got a point.”
Kelly grinned. “Well, that makes two points for me, doesn’t it? I’m still winning.”
Unexpectedly, he laughed and the rich, warm sound seemed to ripple along her spine.
“Competitive, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea,” Kelly admitted. “I used to drive my grandparents crazy. I was always trying to be first in my class, or the fastest runner or—”
“Your grandparents still live here?”
“No.” She picked up her wineglass and watched the light play on the golden wine. “My grandfather died six years ago and my grandmother moved to Florida to live with her sister a year later.” Kelly took a sip, let the cold liquid ease her suddenly tight throat. “When my husband died four years ago, Gran came home for a few weeks to stay with me.”
“You were married?” He spoke quietly, as if unsure exactly what to say.
No surprise there, Kelly thought. Most people just immediately said, I’m sorry. She didn’t know why. Social convention? Or was it just the panic of not being able to think of anything else?
She lifted her gaze to his. “Sean died in a skiing accident.”
“Must’ve been hard.”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “It was. And thanks for not saying you’re sorry. People do, even though they have nothing to be sorry about, you know? Then I feel like I have to make them feel better, and it’s just a weird situation all the way around.”
“Yeah. I get that.”
The expression on his face was sympathetic and that was okay. Telling someone your husband was dead was a conversation killer. “It’s okay. I mean, no one ever really knows what to say, so don’t worry about it.” Another sip of wine to wash down the knot in her throat. “Anyway, it wasn’t easy to get Gran to go back to her new life—she thought she was abandoning me. And I love that she loves me, you know? But I don’t want to be a worry or a burden or a duty—not really a duty, but that little nudge of worry. I don’t want to be that, either.” She took a breath and smiled. “Whoa. Rambling. Anyway, Gran’s still worried, and unless I can convince her I’m just fine, she’s going to move back here to keep me company.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
She looked at him. “Yes. It’s bad. She’s having a blast in Florida. She deserves to enjoy herself, not to feel like she has to move back to take care of an adult granddaughter.”
Nodding, Micah leaned back in the chair, never taking his gaze from hers. “All right. I can see that. So you know what you want. How’re you going to manage it?”
Good question. There was a ridiculous idea worming its way through her mind, but it was so far out there she felt weird even entertaining the idea while Micah was here.
“I don’t know yet.” She smiled, had another sip of wine and said, “But, hey, as fascinating as my whirlwind life can be, enough already. I’ve given you my story. What’s yours?”
He stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“Well, for starters,” Kelly said, “have you ever been married?”
Micah shook his head. “No.”
Kelly just stared at him, waiting. There had to be more than just a no.
Finally, he scowled and added, “Fine. I was engaged once.”
“Engaged but not married. So what happened?”
“It didn’t take.” His features were tight, like the doors of a house locked against intruders.
Okay, that was obviously a dead-end subject. “You know, for a writer—someone supposedly good with words—you’re not particularly chatty.”
He snorted and the tension left him. “Writers write. Besides, men aren’t ‘chatty.’”
“But they do talk.”
“I’m talking.”
“Not saying much,” she pointed out.
“Maybe there’s not much to say.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that,” Kelly told him. “There’s more, you’re just stingy about sharing.”
He started to speak—no doubt protest, Kelly told herself, but she stopped him with another question.
“Let’s try this. You’re a writer and you travel all over the world, I know. But where’s home?”
“Here.” He studiously avoided her gaze and concentrated on the pasta.
“Yeah,” she said. “For now. But before this. Where are you from?”
“Originally,” he answered, “New York.”
Honestly, it would probably be easier if she asked him to write the information and let her read it. “Okay, that’s originally. How about now—and not this house.”
“Everywhere,” he said. “I move around.”
She hadn’t expected that. Everyone was from somewhere. “What about your family?”
“Don’t have any.” He stood up, took his plate to the sink, then came back for his wineglass. Lifting it for a drink, he looked at her. “And I don’t talk about it, either.”
Message was clear, Kelly thought. He’d put up his mental No Trespassing signs. His eyes were shuttered and his jaw was tight.
Whatever bit of closeness had opened up between them
was over now. Funny that while they were talking about her, he was all chatty, but the minute the conversation shifted to him, he clammed up so tightly it would take a crowbar to pry words from his mouth.
It surprised her how disappointed she was about that. Since Sean died, she hadn’t been as interested in a man as she was in Micah. And for a while, as they sat together sharing a meal, she’d felt that buzz humming between them like an arc of electricity. And now it was fizzling out. The expression on his face told her he was waiting for her to pry. To ask more questions. And since she hated being predictable, Kelly said simply, “Okay.”
Suspicion gleamed in his eyes. “Just like that.”
“Everybody’s got secrets, Micah,” she told him with a shrug. “You’re entitled to yours.” Tipping her head to one side, she asked, “Why so surprised?”
“Because most women would be hammering me with questions right now.”
“Well, then, it’s your lucky day, because I’m not like most women.” Besides, hammering him wouldn’t work.
“Got that right,” he muttered.
She heard that and smiled to herself as she carried her dishes to the sink, then turned for the back door. Kelly didn’t want to leave, but she knew she should. Otherwise, she might be tempted to be like every other woman in the world and try to get him to open up some more—which would be pointless and exactly what he expected.
“So, thanks for lunch or dinner or whatever. And the wine.”
Micah was right behind her. “You’re welcome.”
His voice came from right behind her. At the open doorway, she turned and almost bumped into his chest.
“Oh, sorry.” Wow, was his chest really that broad, or was she just so close it looked like he was taking up the whole world? Heat poured from his body, reaching for her, tingling her nerve endings. And he smelled so good, too.
Kelly shook her head, and ignored the flutter of expectation awakening in the pit of her stomach. Deliberately, she fought for lighthearted, then tipped her head back and smiled up at him. “You know, I think I should get another point.”
“For what?”
“For surprising you by not asking questions.” She held up three fingers and gave him a teasing smile. “So that makes it three to nothing my favor and don’t you forget it.”
“Not a chance in hell you would let me forget, is there?”
“Nope.” Kelly grinned. “And how nice that you know me so well already.”
“That’s what I thought.” He studied her as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. But after a second or two, he nodded. “You want to keep score? Then add this into the mix.”
He pulled her in close and kissed her.
Four
Everything inside Kelly lit up like a sparkler, showering her head to toe in red-hot flickers of heat and light. Instinctively, her eyes closed and her body swayed closer to him. His mouth covered hers and his arms came around her, molding her to him, and she lifted both arms to hook them around his neck.
It had been so long since she’d been kissed she was dizzy with the sensations pouring through her. God, she’d forgotten how sensations poured through her system in a kiss, the tangle of feelings that erupted. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t have spoken even if she had wanted to pry her mouth from his. His tongue stroked hers and the groans lifting from her throat twisted with Micah’s, the soft sounds whispering into the twilight.
Breathing was becoming an issue, but she didn’t care. She wanted to revel in the feeling of her body awakening as if from a coma. Fires quickened down low inside her and a tingling ache settled at her core. Need clawed at her and she moved in even closer to him. She might have stood there all night, taking what he offered, feeling her own desires tearing at her. But, as suddenly as he’d kissed her, he ended it.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he lifted his head to look down at her. From Kelly’s perspective, his features were blurry. She swayed unsteadily until she slapped one hand to the door frame just for balance. As her mind defogged, her vision cleared and her heart rate dropped from racing to just really fast.
He still held her waist in a tight grip, and when he looked down into her eyes, Kelly saw that his eyes were a molten brown now, shot through with the fires that were burning her from the inside out.
“I think that makes it three to one now, doesn’t it?” His voice was low, a deep rumble that was almost like thunder.
Points? Oh, yeah. Kelly’s brain was just not working well enough at the moment to count points. But since her body was still smoldering, she had to say, “Oh, yeah. Point to you.”
He gave her a slow, satisfied smile.
Reluctantly, her mouth curved, too. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“I’d be a fool not to,” he admitted.
“Yeah. Well.” She lifted one hand to touch her fingers to her lips. “Let’s not forget, I’ve still got three points to your one.”
His smile faded and his eyes flashed as he let her go. “But the game’s not over yet, is it?”
“Not even close to finished,” she said, then turned and started the short walk home. She felt him watching her as she walked away and that gave her a warm rush, too. Kelly had the feeling that this game was just getting started.
She couldn’t wait for round two.
* * *
Micah watched her go for ten agonizing seconds, then he shut the door firmly to keep himself from chasing after her. God, he felt like some girl-crazed teenager and that just wasn’t acceptable. He was a man who demanded control. He didn’t do spontaneous. Didn’t veer from the plan he had for his life. And that plan did not include a small-town widow who tasted like a glimpse of heaven.
He wanted another taste. Wanted to feel her body pressed to his, the race of her heart, the warmth of her arms around his neck.
“Damn it.” He took a deep breath to steady himself, but her scent was still clinging to him and it invaded his lungs, making itself a part of him.
His own heartbeat was a little crazed and his jeans felt like an iron cage around his hard body. Micah didn’t know what had made him grab her like that. But the urge to taste her, hold her, had been too big to ignore. If he’d been thinking clearly, he never would have done it. The problem was, every time he was around Kelly, thinking was an impossible task.
“Maybe Sam’s right,” he told himself. “Maybe an affair is the answer.” Something had to give, he thought. Because if he spent the next four months as tied up in knots as he was at the moment, he’d never get any writing done.
Something to think about.
* * *
Kelly walked home across the wide front lawn, mind racing, nerves sizzling from that unexpected but amazing kiss. She stopped halfway to the carriage house, turned around and looked at the big Victorian.
In the deepening twilight, the house looked as it had to her when she was a child—like a fairy tale. The house was painted a deep brick red with snow-white trim that seemed to define every little detail. Three chimneys jutted up from the shake roof, indicating the tiled fireplaces—in the living room, the master bedroom and the kitchen. The wide, wraparound porch was dotted with swings, chairs and tables, inviting anyone to sit, enjoy the view and visit for a while. Double front doors were hand-carved mahogany with inset panes of etched glass. The last of the sunset glanced off the second-story windows, making them glow gold, and downstairs a lamp in the living room flashed on, telling Kelly exactly where Micah was in the house.
She lifted one hand to her mouth as she looked at that light, imagining him striding through that front door, marching across the yard to her and kissing her again. God, one kiss and all she could think was she wanted more.
“Oh, man, this could be bad...” Deliberately then, as if to prove to herself she could, she turned away and continued to the cot
tage.
It was a smaller version of the big house. Same colors, same intricate trim, made by a long-dead craftsman more than a hundred years ago. Just one bedroom, bathroom, living room and kitchen, the cottage was perfect for one person and normally, when Kelly stepped inside, it felt like a refuge.
She’d moved out of the Victorian not long after Sean’s death because she simply couldn’t bear the empty rooms and the echo of her own footsteps. Here, in this cottage, it was cozy and safe and, right now, almost suffocating. But that was probably because she still felt like there was a tight band around her chest.
Kelly dropped into the nearest chair and snuggled into the deep cushions. The comfort and familiarity of the cottage didn’t relax her as it usually did. Shaking her head, she sighed a little and told herself to get a grip. But it wasn’t easy since Micah Hunter had a real gift when it came to kissing. So, naturally, she had to wonder how gifted he was in...related areas. Oh, boy. She was in deep trouble.
The worst part was that she wanted to be in even deeper.
When her cell phone rang, she dug it out of her pocket, grateful for the distraction. Until she saw the caller ID. Guilt rose up and took another healthy bite out of Kelly’s heart. She’d forgotten all about returning her grandmother’s call. Seeing Micah, sharing a meal with him, had thrown her off, and then that kiss had completely sealed the deal on her mind, shutting down any thought beyond oh, boy!
Taking a breath, she forced a smile into her voice and answered. “Hi, Gran! I’m sorry, I just didn’t have a chance to call you back before.”
“That’s okay, honey,” her grandmother said. “I hope you were out having fun...”
Kelly sighed a little and leaned her head back against the cushioned chair. She could hear the worry in her grandmother’s voice and wished she couldn’t. Ever since Sean died, Gran had been worried and it didn’t seem to be easing. If anything, it was getting worse. As if the older Gran got, the more she was concerned about eventually leaving Kelly on her own.
Kelly had been trying for months to convince Gran that she was fine. Happy. But nothing worked because the only thing Gran would accept was Kelly in love and married again. She wanted her settled with a family and no matter how many times Kelly told her that she didn’t need a husband, Gran remained ever hopeful.
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