0968348001325302640 brenda huber shadows

by Unknown

Refreshed, feeling human again, she stepped back inside the kitchen as Cam lifted the lever and stared at the flawless stream of water. Her alert gaze drifted over him, catching details her sleep-numbed brain had missed earlier. Details…such as how his muscles rippled and bunched with natural ease, sinuous and defined, every time he moved.

  Details like how his faded jeans hugged him in all the right places, setting wild flutters loose in the pit of her stomach. Apparently satisfied with his handy work, Cam nodded, pushed the lever back down before reaching for a hand towel. Glancing up, he 169

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  aimed a sexy, come-and-get-me grin in her direction.

  Whaa…

  Working hard not to stutter, she stepped into the room and quipped, “So, Mister Plumber, what do I owe you for the faucet?”

  He appeared to roll the matter of payment around in his head for a moment, his oh-so-expressive eyes twinkling diabolically, as if debating how far he could push her before she slapped him down. After a long moment, the tiny grooves in his cheeks deepened, and he conceded, “I’d settle for breakfast.”

  For a split second, a little devil rode her shoulder. She considered asking him what his first choice was, but she changed her mind. The expression on his face was far from innocent.

  Besides, she wasn’t sure she really needed to know all that badly anyway.

  “I can do breakfast. Do you have a preference?” He blinked and froze, all but for his glittering eyes. They roved down the length of her body, slow and methodical, incinerating her where she stood.

  Eyes widening, she cleared her throat and scurried toward the refrigerator. “I, I ah…I have,” she cleared her throat again, “bacon and eggs…and pancake mix.” God, could she sound more breathless, more desperate? JJ opened the door, ducking her head inside, praying the chilled wash of air would cool the burning in her cheeks. “Or would you rather have—”

  An irresistible wave of heat pressed against her backside. Her throat closed, tight. Cam’s warm breath feathered over her cheek as he curled himself over her, the rough skin on his jaw caressed her ear as his hands settled on her hips, tucking her tighter against him. “Fix whatever you like, honey. I’m sure I’ll like it just fine.” He nuzzled her neck then, his lips grazed her skin, and then he moved away, 170

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  leaving her staring blindly at nothing in particular.

  With a little shiver, she pulled herself together and thrust a shaking hand into the fridge, latching onto the carton of eggs. Never before had cooking been such a chore for her. It took all her concentration to crack the eggs without breaking the yolks, to flip the pancakes without sticking them to the ceiling, or to fry the bacon without setting off the smoke detector.

  JJ scooped four eggs from the skillet, sliding them onto the plate in front of him, before she plopped two onto her own plate. They spent several moments passing syrup and butter, salt and pepper, the process both awkward and yet oddly domestic as they settled in to share the meal and a quiet bit of conversation. Surprised at how natural being with him like this felt, JJ leaned back against her chair and watched him chase syrup around his plate with a forkful of eggs and pancakes. There was something to be said for a man with an appetite like that…and a body like his.

  Oh, mama…

  Later, as Cam handed JJ the last dried dish to put away, his thoughtful eyes scanned the room around them. “You know, for being such an acclaimed member of the flighty, artistic society, the house looks pretty good.”

  Flighty? Slanting him an irritated frown, she slammed the cabinet door with slightly more force than necessary. Now why did he have to go and ruin a perfectly nice morning? “Was that supposed to be a compliment?” One fist found its way to her hip. “‘Cuz if it was, you’d better practice some more.” The last word had no more than cleared her lips, when the door she’d slammed snapped free of its hinges. Cam’s arm shot out, lightning quick, and caught the panel of wood before it cracked her on the top of the head. He’d moved forward in the process, 171

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  until her nose brushed the bare skin at the v of his white cotton T-shirt. Startled, she gasped. Her wide-eyed gaze shot up to his. Slowly, he tilted his head down, angling it slightly to the side. His eyes were heavy-lidded, captivating. His lips slightly parted.

  The weight of his large hand settling on her hip, just above her fist, sent heat rocketing through her system, all but melting her bones. Without lifting his gaze from hers, he tugged the cabinet door free of its remaining hinge and placed it gently on the counter at her side. Then he feathered the backs of his knuckles over her cheek, along her jaw, down the line of her neck.

  She was frozen, unable to draw away, unable to speak, lost in the verdant clarity of his entrancing gaze. She tried, desperately, to remind herself of all the reasons she shouldn’t be allowing this to happen.

  He was rude and overbearing.

  Bossy.

  He was controlling. Everything she hated in a man.

  And right now, if he didn’t kiss her, she’d surely die. “Everything about you calls to me.” His voice was deep, husky, brimming with need. “The fire and the vulnerability in your beautiful eyes, the layer of steel running down your spine.” A delicious shiver coursed through her. He thought her eyes were beautiful?

  “Damn it, woman, your scent drives me crazy.

  No matter how far away from you I get, it’s always there…pulling me back.” His lips twisted in a grimace, the next admission tore from his lips on a groan, as though he couldn’t believe he was admitting it aloud. “I can’t stay away from you.” His hand slipped around to cup the back of her neck, drawing her forward. She didn’t resist. The notion never even crossed her mind. His lips were so 172

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  warm, so smooth. So demanding. His tongue traced the rim of her lips, and she parted them, inviting him in.

  He invaded.

  The flavor of him decimated any lingering doubt, any residual protest. His knee pushed between her thighs at the same moment his hips twisted, pressing her back, pinning her against the counter. Fingers splayed, the hand at her waist slid beneath her shirt, skimming her skin. He held her, touched her with a level of passion she’d never encountered, kissed her…seduced her…with every part of his body.

  JJ clung to him, floating on the sensations. His hands were gentle but calloused, rough against her sensitive skin, shooting fireworks through her bloodstream. His scent, fresh and clean, muted out the lingering aroma of their breakfast, dragging her under, until everything else faded away. His hands grew bolder, his kiss voracious. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Cam simply was her world.

  Lightheaded with need, she floated on a cloud of desire. Her ears were ringing.

  No. His cell phone was ringing.

  She crashed.

  He muttered a dark curse against her lips and pulled away, leaving her empty, bereft. How could she be so stupid? Her hands shook as she braced them on the counter at her sides to steady herself.

  Her traitorous knees wobbled.

  Pull yourself together, JJ, you moron. It was just a stupid kiss.

  She couldn’t tear her gaze from his face. His frustrated expression took on a serious, analytical edge. Anger and anxiety edged his tone as he bit out,

  “Get Judy over there, and call Red in. It’ll take me a little bit to get there, I’m at JJ’s.” Great, she could already hear the buzz down at 173

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  Maggie’s.

  Didn’t you hear? Cam was at JJ’s at the crack of dawn this morning.

  Wonder what he was doing there?

  I heard he was fixing her faucet.

  I’ll just bet he was. Wish he’d come on over and take a look at my faucet…

  He listened to the phone for a short moment, the muscle in his jaw began to tick. “Don’t start with me, Emma.” On that terse note, he snapped his phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket. Tossing a thumb in the direction of her cell p
hone where it lay charging, he addressed her, “I programmed in my personal cell number, speed dial one…” JJ wrinkled her brow at his nerve, but before she could make comment, he shrugged, adding, “You weren’t using it anyway. Call me if you need anything or have any more problems. I have to get going. There might be a break in the vandalism case.

  I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Where did he get off?

  He didn’t live here, and yet he was acting as if he owned the place, going about…fixing things. It wasn’t his place, and she resented his attitude. Her problems were not his responsibility, and yet he acted as if she belonged to him, like a girlfriend, or a wife, only his behavior was more possessive…more proprietary.

  A tiny edge of fear tickled down her spine.

  Proprietary…hadn’t Jerry been that way with Sarah? Proprietary and controlling.

  No. Cam wasn’t Jerry. Deep in her heart, in her mind, she knew the truth of that—somehow—and it went a long way toward squelching most of that tickle of fear.

  Temper took care of the rest.

  “I’ll take care of the doorbell, and anything else that needs fixing. Don’t worry about coming 174

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  back…I’m sure you have plenty of other things to take care of.”

  “You are so damned cute when you get mad.” He tilted his head down, angling it slightly to the side, and peered at her through the thick rim of his golden lashes. His voice dropped an octave, his tone intense. “I’ll be back, JJ,” he murmured, stepping closer. Her knees knocked together. His warm palm cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the petulant curve of her lower lip. “After all, I’ve only just gotten a taste of you.” His smoldering gaze dipped to her lips. “And I’m hungry for more.” For half a heartbeat, his unmistakable implication hung heavy in the sparse air between them. Then his lips claimed hers for one brief, searing kiss. All too soon, he eased away, nipped her bottom lip lightly, and angled his head, winking at her before swaggering from the kitchen.

  JJ sagged against the counter, staring after him, mentally sputtering. The man was impossible. The growl of the diesel engine as it roared down her lane snapped her resolve back into place.

  As she straightened from the counter, a red glint caught her eye. He’d left his toolbox on the floor beside the table. The big jerk. So now he thought he could just leave his stuff lying all around? Just because he’d fixed her damned faucet?

  Just because he could knock her silly with one freakin’ kiss?

  Huffy, she stomped to the toolbox, and, before she gave it better thought, she kicked it. The toolbox scrapped across the old linoleum less than half an inch. The metal didn’t give, but her toe did. Wincing, cursing, she hobbled to a chair and dropped onto the seat. Cradling her damaged foot in her hands, she scowled at the doorway. If he thought, for one lousy second she was some meek little woman—content to let him boss her around—he had another thing 175

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  coming.

  JJ Frost would never let any man rule her the way her sister had.

  The shrill cry of her cell phone broke into her dark musings. She crossed the room, savoring the pain lancing through her foot at every step, a sharp reminder to keep her head screwed on straight. No man was to be trusted.

  Picking the phone up, she flipped it open and snapped, “Hello?”

  “JJ? This is June over at Paper Cutouts,” a cautious voice replied with sticky-sweet cheer. “The rest of your order just came in. Would you like me to bring it out to you?”

  “No, that’s okay.” She dropped a narrow-eyed glare to Cam’s toolbox. “I have a delivery of my own to make.”

  ****

  As the Apostle bent down to ruffle Mrs. Tisdale’s puppy’s cheeks, a dark Grand Cherokee eased into a parking space across the street, catching his attention. A pair of long, slim legs swung out from the open car door, then the rest of her hopped out.

  From the corner of his eye, he admired JJ as she crossed the sidewalk and disappeared inside Paper Cutouts.

  She was a beautiful woman, elegant and timeless. Even dressed in tattered jean shorts, running shoes, and a faded T-shirt, with her gorgeous hair pulled back into her ever-present ponytail, she was a traffic stopper. The good Lord knew she was enough to stop his heart, dead in his chest.

  Straightening, he made small talk with the elderly woman as she struggled to restrain the vivacious retriever. All the while, his mind fixated on JJ. The poor thing had suffered her share of heartache. Such a shame, the things her brother-in-176

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  law had done…killing JJ’s sister like that, attacking JJ. From the articles he’d read, she’d barely survived the encounter.

  He’d carefully studied everything he could get his hands on about that night, and about JJ herself.

  The internet had its uses, Devil’s tool that it was. It was all too easy nowadays to find every sordid detail on any unsuspecting soul.

  When JJ struggled through the doorway of Paper Cutouts, arms laden with shopping bags, he bade Mrs. Tisdale a hasty goodbye. Bounding across the street, he hailed JJ.

  “Here, let me help you with those.” Glancing up, she blew a stray wisp of hair from her eye and lit up his morning with a bright smile.

  “Oh, thanks so much. There was more here than I realized.”

  Relieving her of her burden, he followed her to the rear driver’s side door of her Jeep, waited for her to unlock the door and open it. He leaned inside the vehicle as he settled the bags on the seat and drew a deep breath, sweeping his gaze over the interior. The vehicle was spotless and smelled just like her. Clean and fresh.

  Edging clear of the doorframe, he smiled down at her and closed the car door. “All settled.”

  “Thank you again. I should have made two trips.”

  She was so very courteous. He beamed down at her. “It’s all right. Just be careful next time. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “I will.” She reached up and slid a pair of large, round sunglass up the bridge of her nose. There was no subtle flirtation in the motion, no coy, come-hither glance. No Devil’s guile.

  He couldn’t have been more pleased.

  “I heard June was going to ask you to donate a few pieces for the charity auction. Has she spoken to 177

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  you about that yet, or did I let the cat out of the bag?”

  Smiling, she thrust her hands into her front pockets and nodded. “She caught me just now.”

  “Are you? Donating pieces for the auction, I mean?”

  “Yes, I told her I don’t really have any completed works with me, but I should be able to have something for her by the end of next month without any problems.”

  “That’s very kind of you, JJ.” He thought then of the things he’d read about her. A promising young artist, they’d called her. A natural talent. It was right that she not ignore the talents God had given her. Too often talent was taken for granted, or, worse still, exploited. And she was such a pretty thing, so friendly. A woman like her deserved to be cherished.

  He smiled, stepping to the side for a young mother pushing a stroller. A bright-eyed child gurgled, drooling through his cherubic grin as he pounded on the tray in front of him. A small, fuzzy bear tumbled free from the child’s pudgy fingers, bouncing across the sidewalk, rolling to a stop at their feet. Without a moments hesitation, JJ scooped the bear up and returned it to the child with a warm smile before the toddler could so much as whimper.

  Thanking her, the mother moved on.

  JJ had such a beautiful, innocent smile.

  She obviously liked children, was good with them. She’d give her children the kind of childhood he’d always envied of others. She’d make a wonderful mother, sweet and loving, nurturing. Not like the cold, selfish bitch that’d whelped him. He knew God forgave him for not honoring thy mother in this instance.

  God hadn’t forgiven her either.

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  God’s word as she’d beaten the verses into him. No one else had seen. No one else had cared to look. But God had watched every vicious blow.

  God had judged her, and she’d died unrepentant.

  Someday soon, once he’d finished purging the town of sinners—making it safe and fit once more for God’s faithful—he’d like to settle down, have a few tykes of his own. Of course, he’d need just the perfect woman at his side…someone just like JJ.

  He swallowed the bitterness and let his smile grow.

  Surely, she was God’s reward for his unwavering faith.

  He considered asking her out for dinner. That would be the next logical step in courting her. Before he could form the words, however, the door to Paper Cutouts opened, and June came bustling out into the sunlight.

  Resentment bubbled in his chest.

  “Oh, JJ… I’m so glad I caught you before you drove off.”

  June was a tall woman, pencil thin with hawkish eyes. The woman could glean the most innocent bits of information from a conversation and twist them into reputation shattering gossip faster than the ladies-aide could organize a bake sale.

  “Oh, well, hello,” she crooned, smiling at him.

  Already vicious lies were brewing behind those beady eyes as they passed between him and JJ. “I didn’t see you there. I’m so sorry to hear about you mother, such a kind lady.”

  “Thank you.” Nodding gravely, he shuffled his feet to keep from snarling at her insincerity.

  Everyone who knew his mother knew she was one of Satan’s minions. Pivoting on his heel, he caught JJ’s concerned frown and added, “She was ill for some time. It broke my heart to have to put her in the 179

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  nursing home. She passed in her sleep a few weeks back.”

  Her illness left her too weak to fight the pillow.

  God’s will be done.

  “I’m so sorry,” JJ murmured. A shiver of pleasure coursed through him at her sympathetic stroke on his arm.

  “Yes, well,” June changed the unpleasant subject. She held a colorful pamphlet out for JJ. “I forgot to give you this when you were in the store.