by Jill Shalvis
Broad chest with small, tight nipples…flat, ridged belly… Her brain registered both of these things in that split second, before she’d let her gaze drop south.
“Oh, my God.” She held the door shut with one hand, the other over her mouth, eyes wide as saucers.
Then the door whipped open again, and there stood Ian—tall, broad and still wet, but now with a towel around his hips, thankfully.
Or not so thankfully.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered around her fingers, and took a step back. Then another, and another, until she sank to the bed. She dropped her hands and pointed at him, her fingers shaking. “You lied.”
He closed his eyes, then opened and leveled them on her with an expression of pain and regret. “I didn’t lie, exactly. I…omitted.”
“You omitted a hell of a lot. I assumed you’d pulled a muscle. Or something.” She looked him in the eyes when he sat down next to her. “But you were shot. Recently.”
“I was shot. Recently.” With a grim set to his mouth, he parted the white towel slightly, enough to expose his thigh. And the horrific surgery scar alongside the unmistakable puckered one from a bullet.
“Good Lord, Ian. Tell me you’re on the right side of the law. Please.”
“I’m on the right side of the law.” He let out a disparaging breath when she just stared at him. “I’m a DEA agent.”
Annie jerked to her feet and paced away from him. She stared out the window for a long moment, then slowly shook her head. “Well I’d figured something of the sort. You certainly weren’t a farmer.”
“I’ve never even been on a farm, before Thomas brought me here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? All those times I asked…”
“I…don’t know.” He sighed. “Look, it’s all tied into my last case, and how badly I’d screwed it up. It didn’t have anything to do with you—” He blew out a breath. “I know it doesn’t make any sense—”
“You were shot on the job.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you healing all right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes. “God. I just feel like such an idiot, spilling everything to you whenever you wanted, and you’ve spilled nothing, not ever.”
“Annie—”
She heard him coming toward her, and knew if she looked at him, if she had to see his nearly nude body again, she’d melt. “No.” She shrugged his hands off her shoulders. She was back at ground zero—with no one to turn to. She moved toward the door.
“Where are you going?”
She looked at him. A mistake. That body was gleaming, his eyes deep and fathomless, and it made her heart hurt. “Why? Do you feel the sudden need to share yourself with me?”
“Okay, I deserved that,” he muttered, and reached for her again. “I screwed up, okay? I’m sorry, I’m not used to sharing—”
“Stick with that, Ian, the not-sharing thing. You’re quite good at it.” She shook him off and headed toward the door, with absolutely no destination in mind, or why she was so upset.
“You’re not dressed.”
She glanced down at her tank top and flannel pj bottoms. Her sweatshirt was lying on the foot of the bed, and she grabbed it. “Look who’s talking.”
Obviously not caring, Ian followed her through the house and beat her to the front door.
“I’m going for a run,” she said. “I want to clear my head.”
“Annie—”
“If you want to try to keep up…”
“You know I can’t,” he said tightly.
She shot him a grim smile. “That’s right, you were shot. You’re probably not up for a run. I should have known that, considering how close I thought we were, but heaven forbid you share anything with me, because we’re not friends.”
“Be mad all you want, you’re still not going for a run.”
“Try to stop me.” She jerked the door open just as her cell phone rang. Still furious, she glanced at it. New York area code, but she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello,” she answered shortly.
“You think you’re safe,” said the creepy, unrecognizable voice. “But you’re not…”
A perfect addition to a perfectly rotten day.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I FEEL LIKE A PRISONER,” Annie said to Aunt Gerdie that night before bed.
Aunt Gerdie only smiled and put on her nightcap. It held her hair in place and protected her weekly ’do. Annie had never seen her sleep without it.
“Now, dear. I think prisoner is the wrong word.”
Annie sat cross-legged on Aunt Gerdie’s bed. To release some of the tension, she rolled her neck. It didn’t help. “What would you call having my entire life out of my control?”
“I’d call it being cared about, maybe even loved, by a very wonderful man.”
Annie stopped stretching and stared at her. “What?”
“Ian isn’t trying to make you feel like a prisoner. He’s afraid, and a man like that doesn’t handle fear very well. Just look at the man. He’s desperate to keep you safe, and he’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Yeah, without a thought as to how I feel about it.”
Aunt Gerdie smiled sympathetically. “Like I said, he’s a man. He isn’t thinking about your tender little feelings at the moment, he’s in his save-the-girl mode.”
“I can handle the situation myself.”
“Well, it would appear you’re going to be handling it with some help.”
Annie let out a rude sound and turned to the window. They’d called Officer Hunter, reported the new threat. The call had been made from a small motel about five miles from Annie’s Garden.
Not Cooper’s Corner, which helped.
She watched the dark night, lit only by the moon and the glow of the snow on the hills. “I started to fall for him, you know. The scary kind of fall.”
“I know.”
“It hasn’t been very long, but I really thought I’d finally found someone I could share with.” She blew out a breath. “But as it turns out, I was the only one feeling that way.”
“I don’t believe that, Annie. Not for one minute.”
Annie forced a smile and kissed Aunt Gerdie’s cheek. “You know what? I’m going to sleep. Maybe it’ll help.”
Back in her own room across the hall, Annie called Quinn. At the sound of his bright, cheerful voice saying “hello,” an inexplicable lump grew in her throat.
“Thank God you’re home.” She needed a friend, needed the familiarity. “I really—”
“I’d love to chat,” Quinn said. “But I’m not available right now. You know what to do at the beep.”
Annie stared at the phone, then shook her head. She hung up on Quinn’s machine and plopped backward on the bed. She wanted to pout, sulk, brood, but the truth was, she understood Ian’s fears.
She felt them for herself.
What had happened to her quiet, cozy little life?
A soft knock sounded, but before she could so much as turn her head, the door opened. Ian stepped inside the door, shut it behind him.
Just looking at him in his soft, threadbare jeans and thermal shirt, untucked and snug against his beautiful torso, made her ache. Then she remembered what he looked like in nothing at all, and that ache liquefied. Spread.
“Want to go for a ride?” he asked.
She sat straight up. “On the Harley?”
“I’m not offering a horseback ride.”
“If you’re just teasing me, I’ll—”
“I’m not. It’s safe—there’s no ice on the roads and they’re not even wet tonight.”
She was off the bed and scrambling for her shoes so fast he laughed. “Cabin fever, huh?”
“Yeah.” She straightened and looked at him. “What made you think of it?”
“I’m not blind, Annie.” Reaching out, he stroked a finger over her jaw, smoothed a strand of hair off her face. “I know you’re going stir crazy.”
“Oh.” A silly disappointment beat back the surge of joy.
“And maybe…I wanted to be with you.” His voice lowered, went a little husky. “Alone.” He held her surprised gaze and offered his hand. “Let’s go ride the night, beat the wind, chase the demons. What do you say?”
She gripped his large, warm hand tight. “Yes.” To all of it.
Once outside, he helped her with her helmet, tightening the strap beneath her chin, holding her gaze as he did. Then he slid his hands to her hips and squeezed gently, affecting her pulse, her thoughts, everything.
“Hold on tight,” he said, and swung a long leg over the bike, straddling the big machine. With a surge of excitement, she did the same, hugged up to his big body, her legs spread and hard to the length of his.
The position was incredibly erotic, and she might have dwelled on that, but he roared the bike to life, taking them off into the night.
She’d never felt anything like it. Her arms were wrapped around him, her hips snug to his so that she could feel every movement he made, every flex of his powerful legs, every breath.
They rode the dark, curvy roads with only a sliver of moon and the stars for lights. The night was cold, but holding on to Ian, she had all the heat she needed, the friction between them generating even more. She inhaled deeply of the winter Massachusetts air, and soaked up the verdant hilly surroundings that stretched as far north as Vermont and south to the Connecticut border. She had New York to the west and the Appalachians to the east…and right here in Cooper’s Corner, she had it all.
All around them was classic New England, the houses, the landscape, the magnificent hillside setting overlooking the sleepy village she’d come to care so much about. God, she loved it, the feel of the air on her cheeks, the sense of freedom…she could have ridden all night.
* * *
IAN COULD HAVE RIDDEN all night, too, with nothing but the wind in his face, the thrust of the engine beneath him, and a woman with her breasts plastered to his back.
And not just any woman, but Annie, the bravest, strongest, most stubborn and hauntingly beautiful woman he’d ever met.
Yeah, he could have ridden all night. But eventually he felt her shiver against him, and almost regretfully turned back.
When they roared up the driveway, he killed the engine. Neither of them moved or spoke, just looked up at the dark house.
“I’m going to New York tomorrow,” he finally said into the silence.
“Ian, you can’t just march into the city and find whoever is—”
“I have to testify on a case.”
“Oh.” She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed off the bike. Turning his head, he watched her pull off the helmet and toss back her hair. It fell in long curls around her face, past her shoulders. The ride had given color to her cheeks, and her skin seemed to glow. She was so beautiful she took his breath.
He’d taken her out tonight to bring her some happiness, some freedom, but already all that was fading. “I tried to postpone,” he said. “But my commander… He’s not super thrilled with me at the moment, anyway, and wasn’t feeling particularly sympathetic.”
“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, you will. Thomas is—”
“Going to guard me?” The smile she shot him twisted his heart. “Why don’t you just handcuff me to you and bring me along with you?”
“I would have, if I could have gotten away with that.” He got off the bike, snagged her when she backed away, and hauled her close. The hell with letting her have her distance. The hell with remaining calm. “No way, Annie, am I bringing you to the city.”
“Is the case you’re testifying on the one where you got shot?”
He knew she wanted him to open up, share a part of himself. Turning away, he looked off into the dark night. “I chase the scum of the earth for a living. It’s not pretty. Why would you want to hear about it?”
“I want to hear about everything in your life.”
He turned back but saw nothing except genuine interest in her expression. Genuine interest, and compassion. He’d dated women who loved what he did because they were danger junkies. He’d dated women who once they found out he carried a gun for a living had never wanted to see him again.
But he’d never been with someone looking at him like Annie was now, as if she just wanted to know him—the good, the bad and the ugly. “It’s not glamorous.”
“I didn’t think it was. I think it’s vital, and that you’re an amazing man for doing it.”
Sure as hell, no woman had ever told him that, either. “You might want to send a fan letter to my commander.”
“Why?”
“Why.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Mostly because I was a real jerk after I got shot. I wouldn’t gracefully accept a desk job. I wanted back out on the field, I wanted to catch the assh—” He broke off, shot her a look of apology.
“I wanted back out in the field.”
“You wanted to catch the guy who shot you. Understandable.”
“They gave me a month’s leave. Mandatory. I’m only halfway through that.”
“Do you know who shot you?”
“Tony Picatta. My partner Steve and I have been after him and the vigilante group he heads. They keep offing our suspects before we can prosecute them. We’ve been tailing Tony, never getting close enough. It’s as if he’s one step ahead of us all the time, as if he knows our next move.”
“Maybe there’s an inside leak.”
“Yeah.” He admired the way she thought. “We think so, too.”
“So, how did you get shot?”
“We put out word that we were going down on a drug bust, that we were going to nail a big drug dealer, knowing Tony and his gang would try to get there first.”
“Did they?”
“Oh, yeah. Only someone got trigger-happy too early, and it all went bad.”
“And you got hit.”
“I got hit. But we did manage to grab one of Tony’s stupid underlings. We’re hoping to scare him into spilling his guts. We’re charging him to the full extent of the law, and they need my testimony to do so.” He met her gaze, ran a finger over the slight purple exhaustion rings beneath her eyes. “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.”
Annie sighed and set her head on his chest. “I’ll be here.”
* * *
IAN WAITED FOR THE THRILL to hit him as he came into the city. Waited for the thrill at the noise, the traffic, the teeming, hustling streets. The thrill of being home.
It didn’t come.
His apartment was just how he’d left it before he’d been shot. Unmade bed, a single beer and an extremely stale loaf of bread in the refrigerator. No personal pictures anywhere—
Why didn’t he have any pictures of him and Thomas? Of his parents? Had he always been that busy?
Yeah, he had to admit, he had. He considered this apartment an extension of his work, a means to an end. The place where he rested in between bringing bad guys to justice. If he wasn’t working, which was rare but it did occasionally happen, then he went out for pleasure, never bringing it here.
And when he returned, it was back to the grind.
In any case, understanding his life was easy, but suddenly it all seemed…sad. Wandering about, he had the inexplicable urge to call Annie.
He had to laugh at himself at that. He was surrounded by millions of people, and yet felt lonely. How stupid was that?
He went into work, expecting to give his testimony and be politely thanked, and sent on his way. He didn’t expect Steve to be waiting for him with an office full of get-well goodies. “You were missed,” he said with a shrug. “Go figure.”
“Right. Missed. I bet Richards already has my replacement lined up.”
“Nope.”
“Yeah, well, that’s probably only because he hasn’t found anyone yet.” Ian popped a chocolate into his mouth. “So…how’s your brother?”
“Took off on me.
He didn’t like my questions. Whatever.” Steve helped himself to a chocolate. “They want you back sooner than the one month, you know. Commander Richards is going to ask you.”
Ian laughed. “It’s not April Fool’s.”
“I’m serious.”
“But I refused the desk job,” Ian said. “I pissed everyone off. And I haven’t even been cleared by the doctor to be here today, they know that.”
“I’m just telling you.”
Ian didn’t believe it, not until he saw his commander, who was, as Steve had said, wanting him back.
“We need you,” Commander Richards said, and waited with clear expectancy for Ian to jump at the chance.
But he just stood there, leg suddenly aching more than it had in days. “Uh…” He glanced over at Steve, who lifted an I-told-you-so shoulder.
Richards slapped Ian on the back. “I was rough on you when you were shot. I was pissed you wouldn’t rest enough to heal. But you look healed to me now. So…you in?”
The thought of getting back out there… “I don’t think I’m quite up to par,” Ian said. “I need the two weeks I have left—”
“You need two weeks off that leg? Fine. But get in here and behind your desk. Get your fingers on the pulse of what’s going on. Help us out, Ian.”
“I’m still living in Cooper’s Corner for now, and—”
“Can’t work here and live there. Move back.”
Ian listened to the words he’d wanted to hear with all his heart, and felt only a sense of…panic.
Move from Cooper’s Corner back to New York.
Go back to seeing his brother once in a blue moon.
Say goodbye to Annie—
His heart actually lurched on that last thought, but he assured himself it was only because of the danger she faced, and the uncertainty. Surely that would change once they figured out what was going on with her.
Yeah, definitely, that was it. He’d insist on his two weeks, he’d go back to Cooper’s long enough to help her, then gladly, gladly, come back to New York. Permanently. “I need my two weeks,” he said to Richards.
