by Jill Shalvis
Her heart started to pound but she ignored it. “I suppose I should stop four-wheeling over the curb to my—”
“Annie.” When he lifted his head, his eyes were clear and startlingly serious. “You didn’t wear out your tires. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“So how—”
“They were slashed.” It took him a long painful moment to rise again, and when he did, he reached for her hand.
“You’re shaking,” she said inanely.
“No, that’s you.” He ran his hand up her arm in a gesture meant to soothe, even though he was a virtual stranger. Shockingly enough, it did soothe.
“How long were you in the store?”
“Only a few minutes…”
He looked around the parking lot, squinting through the rain, tense and battle-ready.
“You don’t think—”
“I think it just happened.” His light eyes continued to scan the lot around them. “You have your cell phone on you?”
She swiped the rain from her eyes again. “Yes, but I told you, I haven’t received any more calls.”
“You’re making one this time. Call the police.”
* * *
THE WHOLE EPISODE WAS AN exercise in futility. The police came. So did just about the entire population of Cooper’s Corner. People were questioned. No answers were found.
Annie’s car was towed to the service station for tires.
No less than seven people, including Phyllis from the grocery, offered Annie a ride home, but Thomas and Ian did that, the three of them crammed into the front seat of the pickup.
Thomas turned out to be just about Ian’s polar opposite. Not as tall as Ian, he had sun-kissed brown hair, darker eyes, and a far more readily available smile. All the way back, he chatted in the face of Ian’s brooding silence, telling her of their rambunctious childhood in New York City.
“The city—” Annie glanced over at Ian “—explains the intensity.”
Thomas laughed. “You’ve noticed.”
“I’ve noticed,” she said dryly, and Ian just rolled his eyes.
“Did he tell you how I made him come to Cooper’s Corner?” Thomas asked. “He thinks we’re on a different planet out here.”
“Thomas,” Ian said, just his name, in a low, quiet voice of warning.
Thomas ignored him. “He was always like this,” he said to Annie. “Quiet. Demanding. Rude.”
Annie had a hard time picturing Ian as a child at all, but Thomas had an easy wit and, despite the emotions of the day, had her laughing by the time they pulled up her driveway.
Ian got out, held the door open. She got out, too, and looked around, startled to find everything so…normal.
It had stopped raining, and the late afternoon sun poked its way through the dwindling, waning clouds. It still hovered just above freezing, however, and she was cold and still damp.
But she took the extra moment to notice the beauty. The hills gleamed, the trees dripped. And the scent…everything always smelled so good after a rain. She inhaled deeply, still unsettled, but slowly starting to calm down. Then she leaned into the truck and smiled at Thomas. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Call me when your car is fixed, I’ll drive you over there to get it.”
Nodding, she backed up to let Ian back in the truck, but he didn’t move.
“I’m okay,” she said softly, but he shook his head.
“I want to check out your place for you,” he said.
“You heard State Trooper Hunter. He said it was just a random act of violence.”
“Because you didn’t tell him about your crank call.”
“That wasn’t really a crank call, it was—”
“Annie.”
“Ian, you’re cold and wet, too, and—”
“I’ll see you at home,” Ian said to Thomas through the open door.
“Call me for a ride,” Thomas said back.
“Fine.”
The two brothers stared at each other for a long beat before Thomas nodded and Ian shut the door. The truck disappeared down the wet driveway.
Annie watched it go, wondering at the long look they’d exchanged, but then a cold, harsh wind hit her and she shivered.
Ian lightly put a hand low on her spine, nudging her forward. “Inside.”
They walked up the front steps in silence, Annie slowing her normal running pace to match his. At the door he stopped her. “Me first this time.”
She watched as he very carefully opened the door, studying the living room with intense, searching eyes. He was acting like…like a cop.
“What was it you said you do?” she asked his sleek, smooth back.
“I feed my brother’s baby goats.”
“Ian.”
“Oh, and find errant cell phones.”
“I’m serious,” she said, and he turned to look at her, a whole host of things in his eyes, mostly his reluctance to talk about himself.
“Look,” he finally said. “For now I’m just a farmer’s brother.”
“For now?”
“For now. For at least another three and a half weeks.” He peered behind the couch, in the coat closet. “And I’ve got too much damn time on my hands while I’m here. Ask Thomas, he’ll be happy to tell you all about it.”
Then she was staring at his back again as he moved into the hall. “I meant what did you do before you came here, before your visit?” she clarified, though she knew darn well he’d purposely misunderstood her. “In the city.”
“Lots of things.” In the kitchen now, his eyes scanned carefully, thoroughly, though whether or not he even noticed her wood table and chairs, hanging copper pots, the throw rugs she’d tossed down to warm the room through the chilly winters, or the potted plants she’d placed everywhere to keep the place cheery, she had no idea.
The room sparkled from the scrubbing she’d given all the old-fashioned appliances and black-and-white-checkered tile flooring just that morning. “Ian—”
“Shh.” He headed toward the bathroom.
She let out a startled laugh. “You didn’t just shush me.”
He opened the bathroom door, sneezed at her fresh potpourri. “Shh,” he repeated.
She grated her teeth, remembering now why he was so annoying. “I want to know who you really are.” She blocked his way out of the bathroom, crossed her arms and pretended she was as tall and imposing as he. “Talk to me.”
He took in what she knew to be a determined-as-hell expression, and let out a long breath. “I’m just trying to make sure your house is safe,” he said.
“So you Tarzan, me Jane? I don’t think so. I can take care of myself, Ian.”
“Is your aunt here?”
She sighed. “It’s four o’clock.”
“Which means?”
“She’s upstairs napping. If you stay more than fifteen minutes, she’ll be up and forcing tea and cookies on you.”
“Really?” Undisturbed by the Tarzan comment, he looked interested. “What kind of cookies?”
She made a sound of frustration and started up the stairs to check on her aunt herself, not really surprised when Ian put a hand to her arm and insisted on going first. She wasn’t above watching him limp up the stairs, given that her eyes were level with a very nice set of buns.
In the upstairs hallway, she pointed to Aunt Gerdie’s closed door. He nodded that she could go check, and at his permission, she rolled her eyes. She peeked in, saw her aunt still on her bed, sighed a breath of relief she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and shut the door.
Together they went back down the stairs, once again standing in the hallway between the living room and kitchen.
She was still damp and tired. Delayed stress, she supposed, but she was definitely feeling it. Tossing back her hair, she leveled a glance at the man who had the nerve to look extremely good all damp and tired. “There’s no one here who’s not supposed to be, Ian. You can drop the protective stance now.”
He lean
ed back against the wall in a picture of a lazy pose, when she knew damn well there wasn’t a single lazy, relaxed bone in that mouth-watering body. “So who wants to scare you, Annie?”
“I really don’t think—”
“Somebody does.”
She stared at him for a long beat, then sighed and looked away.
“You have trouble,” he said softly. “You know it.”
She had trouble, yes, but not in the way he imagined. She just had so many people depending on her, it was becoming overwhelming, which was part of the reason she’d come to Cooper’s Corner in the first place. To get away, to clear her head, to do what Ian himself seemed to have trouble doing…relax, even if only a little bit.
Instead, it all seemed worse, somehow. Aunt Gerdie was going downhill. Work was…well, work. Jenny had taken penny-pinching to another level, and seemed inordinately stressed despite the fact their sales had gone up significantly for the past three-quarters straight.
Then there was Stella Oberman, and the way she’d actively targeted her advertising to destroy Annie’s Garden’s reputation. Stella had clout, power and enough money to buy God. Wild, bigger than life and blessed with extraordinary charisma, she was loved by the press, which just soaked her up. Her stunning beauty, the famous men revolving in and out of her life like people passing through a hotel door, and her fondness for politically incorrect cigars, all combined to make her campaign startlingly effective.
Truth was, with or without the tire incident, Annie felt a little…alone. Scared.
And vulnerable enough to trust Ian, despite the fact he didn’t want to talk about himself.
“Talk to me, Annie.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” She lifted her hands, letting out a little laugh. “The thought that somebody wants to scare me, or even hurt me, is laughable, really.”
Pushing away from the wall, he stepped close. Close enough she could feel his body heat practically steaming through his damp clothes. He was big, and warm, and for one ridiculous instant, she wished she knew him just a little better so that she could set her head on his chest and be comforted, rather than be the comforter. Wished he’d lean in and somehow, some way, make her forget everything.
As if in response to her silent plea, his lips parted. His eyes darkened, and he did indeed lean in, stopping her heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“START WITH THE PEOPLE in your life,” Ian said quietly. “Any known enemies?”
Annie blinked, and might have laughed at herself if she could. He wasn’t trying to kiss her. “No. No known enemies.”
“Any boyfriends you piss off recently?”
“Awfully personal question.”
“Yeah, well the slashed tires seems a little personal to me.” His gaze never wavered off hers. “So…?”
She sighed. “No boyfriends.”
“Ex-boyfriends?”
“It’s been a while,” she admitted.
There was no judgment in his expression, no mocking, no pity. “How long is a while?”
Before she could answer that question, the phone rang. It startled Annie, so she jerked, then let out a nervous laugh.
Ian, however, with nerves apparently made of steel, didn’t so much as twitch.
She moved from the hallway into the kitchen, toward the phone, but the machine picked up. “Annie? It’s Dennis.”
Annie glanced at Ian, knowing her eyes were wide, but the coincidence was shocking. He’d just asked her about any exes and here was the big one. Dennis Anderson.
Granted, they’d kept in touch, but still…
Dennis breathed into the room. “I’d like to talk to you,” he finally said.
They’d met in college. He’d been sweet, and lots of fun, but there’d been so many major differences in their philosophies. First of all, she’d had to earn her way through Harvard—working, getting scholarships, studying hard with no family support.
Dennis had been sent there to vacation courtesy of his parents.
Annie had wanted to go after life with a vengeance, building her own company, taking it as far as she could, always pushing for more, bigger, better.
Dennis had wanted to stay in that cocoon of college and parents’ funding forever. He’d been nurtured there, taken care of.
After graduating, when she’d gone into further debt to tackle her graduate degree, he hadn’t, choosing instead to flit from adventure to adventure, supported by a healthy trust fund, thinking they could play forever.
Annie needed success, where Dennis didn’t care. And though she’d never wanted it to matter, because she had loved him, it had mattered. Despite her best efforts, it had come between them. He’d stopped looking at her with his heart in his eyes. He’d felt he’d had to compete with Annie’s Garden for her time.
Their relationship, at least in his eyes, had slowly died.
He hadn’t been the first to walk away from her. Hell, she had a long history of that—her father, her mother… But oddly enough, it hadn’t hurt as much to see Dennis go as she’d thought it would.
He wasn’t a bad man, just bad for her.
“I guess you’re really not home,” Dennis finally said. “So…tag, you’re it. Call me, ’kay?”
She grabbed the receiver. “Dennis.”
“You’re there,” he said with pleasant surprise. “How’s it going, babe?”
“Well—”
“I really need to see you.”
“I’m not going to the city for a while.” Her gaze met Ian’s. “You haven’t, by any chance, been trying to get ahold of me?”
“At the house? This is my first try.”
She shook her head at Ian, but he didn’t lose any of his intensity or relax one single muscle.
“So, when can we get together? I’ll buy.”
Not harboring any resentment toward him, but not having any desire to see him, either, she forced a smile into her voice. “I’ll let you know when I come into town.”
“Annie, you sound…I don’t know. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just some stuff here. It’s nothing.” She looked right at Ian. “Really, nothing.”
“So, we’ll get together?”
“I’ll call you,” she promised, and hung up.
The sudden silence in the room seemed extraordinarily loud.
As usual, Ian was one-hundred-percent focused on her. “Was that your ‘it’s-been-a-while’ ex?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have caller ID on the house phone?”
“No. But the number on my cell phone wasn’t his. And anyway—”
“Let me guess…” Pushing away from the wall, he came close. Close enough to once again let her soak up that delicious body heat that seemed to emanate off him in waves. “It’s not his style?”
“If I’m to believe what you believe, the same person who called my cell also slashed my tires. Why would Dennis do such a thing?”
“You tell me.”
“Well, maybe I would. If we…”
“If we…”
“Were a thing. Or even friends.” She bit her lower lip and waited to see how he’d take that.
He stared at her for a long moment. “A thing…” His lips quirked. “Is that what we’re doing, Annie? Having a thing?”
“I don’t know.” She lifted her hands. “That’s just it. What are we doing? I mean, I know there’s something going on here. Or…is it just me?”
“No.” His eyes burned her up. “It’s not just you.”
“Well. That’s good.” She let out a laughing breath. “Because the air crackles when you so much as look at me, and I’d like to think you feel something when I look at you right back.”
“I do,” he said very quietly. “Feel something back, that is.”
She had a feeling that the brief statement was tantamount to a huge confession from the man of so few words. For whatever crazy reason, it made her let out a shaky smile. “Did you just actually open up a little?”
&n
bsp; “I think I did.” He raised his brow. “And now we know we’re both feeling the air crackle.” And he stepped even closer, his gaze over her face like a caress. “So, now tell me. If you broke up so long ago, why are you still in touch with Dennis?”
“We’re friends.” At the wry twist of his lips, she laughed. “What? Men and women can’t be friends?”
“No,” he said bluntly, and lifted one warm, callused finger to her face, where he carefully stroked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
In need of balance in her suddenly spinning world, she put a hand to his chest and felt his hard muscles bunch and flex beneath his shirt.
A wild shiver chased down her spine, and she was quite certain it wasn’t just from being cold.
“What, did you need proof?” he murmured. “I touch you and we both shiver.”
“Which means…?”
“I’m a man, and you’re a woman. And being ‘just friends’ isn’t in the genetic makeup. In fact, it’s impossible.”
“So that leaves us…”
“As something other than friends,” he said, his voice low and just a little husky.
She opened her mouth, but images flitted through her mind…Ian stripping out of his damp clothes, then doing the same for her, sharing some of his heat. Since that thought backed the air up in her throat, she snapped her mouth closed.
“Oh, my goodness.” Aunt Gerdie came to the bottom of the stairs, wearing a housecoat and a feather boa around her neck. “Hello. I see we’ll need an extra cup for tea this afternoon.” She beamed at them.
“No.” Annie backed away from Ian, her pulse still racing. God, he made her forget just about everything when he was that close. “He was just… leaving.”
“Oh, dear.” Gerdie smiled sweetly at Ian. “Are you sure? I have cookies.”
Ian looked tempted, so much so that Annie stepped in front of him. “He’s quite sure.” She took his hand—ignoring the additional flutter in her tummy from the touch—and practically dragged him to the door.
“Well, if he must,” Aunt Gerdie said.
Ian, looking amused now, smiled down into Annie’s face as she gave him the bum’s rush out the door. “Apparently, I must.”
She waited until they were at the front door, alone. “You know why I get frustrated with you, right?”
