“I like the truth, Ethan. In fact, I prefer it most of the time.”
“It was a rough night sleeping, and I got tired of counting the roaches. I wanted some company, and you intrigue me, Elizabeth LaRue.” Once it crossed his lips, he couldn’t believe his mouth and brain had betrayed him, again. As he waited for her reaction, his heart pounded at the possibility of rejection.
Then what?
If his dream woman pushed him away, then what?
Elizabeth smiled and patted his arm. “Well, honesty will earn you coffee, and possibly breakfast if you're hungry.”
He was able to breathe again, and he appreciated that she was so easy to like and be near. “That sounds like it’ll make me forget the night and the roaches completely. For the record, I’m always hungry, Lyzee.”
“Then follow me,” she offered.
Blackhawk did just that. “Are you really going to make me breakfast?” he asked, pleasantly surprised. The idea appealed to him on some male level.
“I certainly am, Ethan. Why does that surprise you?”
Blackhawk shrugged, hopping his mouth didn’t betray him anymore than it already did. “Maybe the fact you don’t know me, and I showed up at your door at the crack of dawn.”
Elizabeth considered his words. “I guess if you’re going to be honest with me, I may as well do the same for you. I happen to be very intrigued too, Mr. Blackhawk.” She kicked off her shoes at the door, and placed them neatly by the umbrella stand, missing the look on his face at her answer.
Everything in him tightened at her words and what they could mean. “Suddenly, I find myself liking honestly a great deal,” he grinned at her, as she led him into her personal space.
“Give me a few minutes to shower. I’ll be right back down, and then I’ll make us something to eat.”
He watched her walk away, enjoying her hips swaying and the little running shorts that were barely covering her long legs. When she turned at the bottom of the stairs, he hoped she didn’t see him ogling her like some hormone ridden teenager. Not that it was far off from the truth. His hormones were pushing him out of control.
“Coffee’s on, sugar’s in the cabinet, and there’s cream in the fridge,” and with that, she escaped up the stairs, two at a time to put herself back together.
Blackhawk let out a breath as he headed for the coffee, hoping he had control of his brain before she came back. Elizabeth LaRue in person was far more dangerous than Elizabeth LaRue in his dreams, especially when she was wearing those shorts and offering to cook for him.
Elizabeth tore into her room, stripping as fast as she could, tossing clothes in the laundry. She couldn’t believe he was in her house, downstairs while she was showering.
Last evening, she tossed and turned all night thinking about him, wondering what he would look like with his hair free and naked in her bed. Had she known he was going to pop in this morning, she wouldn’t be a sweaty mess. Elizabeth would have made herself presentable.
Under the spray of water, she forced herself to focus on the facts. He was here to help her solve murders and nothing more. She regained control of herself and finished up her shower. As she was dressing, Elizabeth forced her mind to focus on the reason he was there.
To find a killer.
Ethan Blackhawk wasn’t there to be the subject of her sordid Native fantasies. Now she needed to look semi-professional and head down to make the man some breakfast and to not undress him in her mind.
The laughter just happened.
Fat chance there.
She already had him halfway naked.
Blackhawk poured himself a mug of coffee, adding cream to it, as he decided to wander around the downstairs level of her house. He hoped she wouldn’t mind, but curiosity was getting the best of him. You could learn a lot about people by the way they set up their homes, and what she said last night was correct.
Hers was a very large house.
Everything about it was organized and immaculately kept. The colors of the walls were bright, cheery and passionate. There were fiery reds, lush greens and fanciful blues, and they all made it feel like… home.
The furniture had to have been hers. It didn’t look like it was worn, or that of an old sheriff. Somehow it reminded him of her completely and nothing like his place. In fact, it was a stark contrast to the chilliness of his brownstone.
Ethan stood in front of the mantle of the fireplace, staring at the pictures of her through time. They started with her as a young child, standing with a woman. He assumed it was her mother; she looked just like her, tall, willowy and drop dead gorgeous. The next few were of just her and her dad, and they looked like they were having a good time, laughing and enjoying life. Then there was her at college graduation, smiling as she held her diploma. He noted the school, Cornell. Elizabeth LaRue had an excellent education and was obviously smart. Then the last one was just of her dad, and she must have taken it around Christmas. He stood in front of a tree, and it was the same mantle. Ethan got lost in the pictures, and didn’t hear her coming down the stairs until she stopped beside him.
“That’s my mother and father,” she stated softly, rubbing her fingers gently over the picture.
He looked over at her, and he could hear the pain in her voice as it played through her eyes. “It hurts to lose a parent,” he said, wanting to touch her and hold her against him, just to offer her some peace. “I’ve been there myself.”
“Yes, it does,” she replied, turning to head to the kitchen. She didn’t want to talk about it. Elizabeth had lost both of hers and it still rubbed her raw, inside and out. “Join me while I cook?” she asked, leading the way.
Blackhawk sat at the island, watching her make her coffee. All the sadness was gone, and she had this look of deep thought. “What are you thinking about?”
Elizabeth laughed. He seemed to read her very well, “Was it that obvious?” How he saw everything un-nerved her.
“Definitely,” he replied, sipping his coffee and grinning.
“I was trying to decide if you are more an omelet and toast kind of guy, or if you’d prefer french toast and berries.”
“I think there needs to be some follow-up questions, and then I can answer that for you,” he paused, to hold out his cup when she offered him more coffee.
“Okay, shoot,” she smiled, resting her elbows on the tiles as she grinned at him.
He wondered if she realized how sexy she looked in her tank top and jeans. He forced his focus off her and back to the food. “Is there real maple syrup to go with the french toast?”
Elizabeth grinned, “Absolutely, Mr. Blackhawk.”
“Is there meat in the omelet or veggies? Not that I don’t like veggies, but really…I’m a guy.”
“Meat and cheese,” she answered, the grin was now a smile.
“Okay, here is the most important one. Real butter, or that fake stuff that girls like?” He could have sworn he fell into her eyes, sinking and unable to save himself. She sucked him in easily.
Sheriff LaRue stood, and the small smile was now big, warm, and welcoming “Ethan, I didn’t just run six miles uphill to eat fake butter,” she laughed, as she couldn’t help but like the man.
“Then french toast it is,” he chose, and then joined her laughing. “What do you want me to do, Lyzee?” He watched her put on an apron, and found it completely sexy and feminine. Here was Elizabeth, barefoot and wearing something so girly.
This was vastly better than the dreams.
“You get to sit, because you're a guest. I’m making you breakfast today.” She grabbed a loaf of homemade egg bread she had picked up at the bakery and began slicing it efficiently. “If we had time, I could impress you with my stuffed french toast, but alas, you get the simplified version today.”
“Damn the time restraint,” he quipped, finding himself grinning like an idiot. She just made him that comfortable. It was like he knew her forever and there was no pretense. “Maybe another time?” he said it and then rea
lized his brain and mouth had once again conspired against him. Watching her carefully, he hoped he didn’t overstep his boundaries. “Unless, you’re in a relationship, Lyzee.” He found himself holding his breath, waiting for her answer and unsure if he’d back off even if she was.
Elizabeth felt her heart skip a beat, and she hoped she could speak and not sound like a moron. “I’m very single, and I will make you my famous stuffed french toast another time, Ethan,” she drawled, thrilled at the prospect with another breakfast with him.
He released the breath he was holding. Something made him believe that she was going to run from him. The fear must have been all over his face.
“Ethan, don’t worry. I don’t let the past define the future.” Elizabeth handed him a whisk and a bowl of eggs. “I did find something you could help me with,” she added, watching his eyes and sexy as sin grin. “The eggs, Mr. Blackhawk, they need your attention. Please beat these for me,” she said smiling, trying to fake her way through the conversation.
The past always mattered.
Didn’t she know that better than most?
Blackhawk was pretty sure her past defined everything, because his did the same thing. Right now, he was hiding from it, and he suspected so was she.
They made idle chit chat as she grilled the french toast and washed the berries. Elizaebth laid out two dishes and placed the food on them, before handing him the syrup. “Want to sit out on the patio or inside?”
“Let’s go outside, if that’s okay with you. I live in Georgetown. Don’t know if you’ve ever noticed how little of nature there is there.”
“Just a few trees along the street, huh?” She remembered it well.
Elizabeth handed him the coffeepot and their empty cups, as she loaded up a serving tray with everything else. “Follow me, Ethan,” she said, leading him to the patio, and offering him a seat at her bistro table. It overlooked her garden, and it was pretty and wild. “Let me go grab the cream, and I’ll be right back,” she said, walking off.
Ethan Blackhawk stared around the garden and there were so many kinds of flowers in bloom, and it smelled like a florist shop. He bent over, plucking a daisy from the garden, unable to help it. The flower just begged to be picked, and he was in awe. When he heard her coming back he turned, “Lyzee, I have to say this is a great space. No, it’s a fantastic space.”
“I wish I had something to do with it, but I didn’t. My step-mother planted it all, when she and my dad were married. She’s the flora and fauna expert. After the divorce, she tried to get the house, but my dad had bought it before he married her, and he wisely put it in my name. She couldn’t touch it.”
He pulled the chair out for her, and handed her the daisy. “Thank you for breakfast,” he said softly, as he took his seat across from her.
She was ridiculously touched by the flower, and she tucked it into her hair, behind her ear and smiled at him, “It’s my pleasure, Ethan.”
As they cut into french toast and berries, she couldn’t help but enjoy her time with him. It all just felt comfortable. No pretense, and no scrutiny as to why she left the FBI, or what happened. It then occurred to her that he must have talked to Gabe, so he probably knew all about her.
“Did Gabe tear you a new one because of your partner?” she asked, putting her fork down, knowing what he was capable of doing when he was angry.
“Not me, but I think Lily got an earful,” he replied, chewing a bite of his french toast and noticing her sudden nervousness. “I know why you left the FBI, if that is what this conversation is leading up to, Lyzee. Gabe didn’t say a thing to me, other than ‘don’t believe the report, I didn’t’.”
Elizabeth nodded, sighing over having to even go there, but she had figured as much. “You want all the sordid details?”
“No, just the truth, Lyzee,” he said, “When you’re ready to share it with me, and only then. I won’t push you.”
She nodded appreciatively, that he would allow her a few secrets. Both paused, as a car pulled up. “It has to be one of my deputies. I’ll bet Tony, since he is always popping in and out for coffee, food, and to irritate me.”
“I noticed,” he hoped that didn’t sound harsh. He was about to ask about the man, when he wandered out onto the patio.
“I saw the SUV out front. Are the Feds up early this morning?” He stopped, seeing only Blackhawk having an intimate breakfast, and his eyes narrowed. “Where’s your partner?” Tony questioned suspiciously, trying to keep it light and failing.
Blackhawk didn’t know what to think of the man in front of him. He had this easy demeanor with the sheriff, and it bothered him on some primal level. It was the kind of behavior that lovers had between them. “I’m guessing the hotel, asleep.”
“Why are you here, Tony?” she interjected herself into the conversation. She could smell the testosterone brewing. The men were about to go at each other like two dogs after a meaty bone.
“We had another missing girl report a few hours ago. She hasn’t been gone for more than six hours. I figured you’d want to know about it as soon as you woke up. But considering, you’ve probably been up for a while,” he glared at the agent territorially, as he silently threw down proprietary rights.
“Yes, she has,” he answered lightly, placing his cup back on the table and accepting the challenge. “We should all probably head in and see if there is anything that matches the other women, and then go from there,” he changed the subject.
“Agreed,” she said, standing and starting to carry the dishes into the kitchen. “Tony, can you do me a favor?” she called to him, filling his travel mug, and handing it back to him when he came into the kitchen. “Take Ethan’s SUV, drop it off with his partner, and later get one of the guys to drop you back here to get your vehicle. Lily is stranded at ‘The Wayfarer’ and that’s a fate worse than death.” She wanted to grin joyously at the thought, but managed to contain herself at the other agent’s displeasure.
“Okay, Lyzee,” he answered, grinning as he baited her in front of the FBI agent.
“Am I signing your timecard for today, Deputy Morel?” she threatened, one brow lifted.
He laughed good naturedly. “Yes, ma’am, Sheriff LaRue, Ma’am, you most certainly are,” he saluted her, and grabbed the keys from the agent. “Don’t call her Lyzee on the clock, it makes her cranky,” he warned, as he earned another dirty look.
Blackhawk wondered if she’d give him the same look if he did, and he promised to test that theory.
“Sorry about Tony, he’s out of control,” she smiled, placing the last dish into the dishwasher. “I’m ready now.”
He grinned, as he followed her out the door. He’d been assured another breakfast date and he was riding into town with her. It was a good day after all. Buckling in, he waited for her to start the engine.
For now, he wanted to bask in the victory of masculine afterglow.
Agent Blackhawk sitting beside her in the jeep was infinitely better than her just sniffing the lingering scent of his cologne. Elizabeth had to admit, she liked how it felt to have Ethan near her. She even remembered to lock her door. Usually, Elizabeth didn’t bother but today it just seemed important, especially in front of an FBI agent.
“That was nice of you to make him drive the SUV over to hotel,” he said, turning on the air conditioning. It was already going to be a scorcher.
“Yeah, that’s me. Sheriff Nicey-Nice,” she quipped, grinning. Elizabeth tossed her hat into the back seat, and pulled out of the drive. The day was starting pretty darn good. First there was a run, breakfast with Special Agent Blackhawk and now them sitting side by side in closed quarters. It was hard to ignore how great he smelled. “I just figured Lily is going to be pissy if she has to walk in this heat to the station, and I’m the one she’ll take it out on, since she has it in for me. I’m just cutting the trouble off at the pass.”
He laughed at her old west reference. He found her cowboy boots and hat charming. He was very glad she wasn�
��t dressed in some stuffy uniform. Low rise jeans and a tank top suited her just fine. “By the way, Lyzee, nice belt buckle.”
She looked down forgetting what one she put on, and smiled at the word ‘boss’. “It was my initiation present from my deputies, when I came here.”
“So you're the boss, huh?”
“Hell yeah I am,” she winked at him, salaciously.
Blackhawk felt everything inside him tighten, and he knew he needed to change the subject, or his mouth would betray him again. “So, what’s your game plan this morning, Sheriff?” he asked, trying to not overheat as he sat beside her.
Man, it wasn’t easy.
“Well, since this is still my rodeo, Cowboy, and the FBI isn’t officially here,” she mulled it over. “I think I’ll start the deputies on doing research on the first three deceased woman and our latest two. There has to be something there that we’re missing. I know my father didn’t get a chance to research them.”
She couldn’t help but notice he was staring at her.
“What? Is that a bad idea?” she was pretty sure she hadn’t said anything wrong.
“Cowboy?” he repeated, as he prepared to laugh.
“Uh yeah, I believe that’s what I said.”
Out came the sexy Blackhawk grin.
She must have looked confused, but his smile lightened the concern.
“It’s a saying. I’m sorry, did I offend you?” she asked, pulling into the station parking lot and putting on the brake. “Should I have called you Indian instead?” she grinned, teasing him. “More apropos considering the circumstance? Do I get to be the cowboy then, since I own the hat?”
She didn’t expect what happened next.
Blackhawk leaned in fast, pulling her mouth to his, as he braced his hand firmly on the back of the neck. The kiss on her lips was slow and warm. When Ethan finally broke away he spoke, grinning wickedly, “Cowboy is what Gabe and my co-workers call me, so yeah, use it. I like the way it sounds coming from your lips. Thanks for breakfast, Lyzee,” Blackhawk said, jumping out of her Jeep and entering the building. He was pretty sure he caught her off guard.
The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) Page 9
