He tilted his head, watching me like a predator with his prey.
I glanced around the room. Guns hung around the house; a single lazy boy recliner sat in front of the television. The vast, unfurnished room seemed to indicate the guy had no friends.
“You can’t leave. You’re not dressed,” he called out and turned back to the coffee pot, pouring a cup and asking me the same question again. “How do you take your coffee?”
I stood frozen, unable to believe my eyes.
He glanced over his shoulder. “If you’d prefer something stronger, I have bourbon.”
I shook the haze from my thoughts. My mystery man was talking to me.
“I’ve been searching for you,” I said, taking a tentative step back into the kitchen.
His brows dipped. “Did you hit your head when you fell running from the bear?”
I shook my head, unsure how much to tell him.
“I was in the search party for the kid. I found him.”
“You didn’t have the kid.”
“The bear was going to attack. I led it away.”
The lumberjack paused as if debating if I were telling him the truth. Seconds ticked by before he asked again, “How do you take your coffee?”
“Preferably not poisoned,” I answered. I may have had premonitions about this man, but he was nothing like I’d imagined. “Uh. If you can just point me to a phone, I can call for someone to pick me up.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“Uh, okay. Then any idea where mine is?” I asked.
“You had it in your back pocket. It fell into the tub when I was undressing you. Your entire backpack had to be hosed down.”
“Okay, then.” I nodded. “The walkie-talkie. You have that, right?”
“They already found the kid.”
“I heard while you were carrying me. Where’s the walkie-talkie? I can use it to get a ride.”
“No need,” he said, leading me back to the kitchen. “I’ll drive you back to the search and rescue command post, and you can tell me how you know my scar is from a tiger.”
Chapter 3
There was nothing I could tell him. Nothing he’d believe. I didn’t even know his name. In my premonitions, I’d never needed it. I only knew the way he made me feel. I’d been like a voyeur during the man’s entire life. “What’s your name?”
“You don’t know it?” he asked, handing me a pair of jogging pants to slip on.
I stepped into them and tied the string. The pant legs were six inches too long. The girth draped like curtains, flat and straight down, in spite of my curves. “I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”
The man disappeared and returned, carrying a duffel bag. “I put all of your things in here.”
“Thanks, Mr…”
No smile, nothing but curiosity stared back at me. His intense gaze held mine as if trying to read my mind. Maybe he was. Maybe we were connected because he was “special” too.
“Harlon Simmons, and you are?”
“Nina Bennett. Thank you for saving me.” I gestured with my thumb over my shoulder toward the door. “I’m late getting back to the search and rescue command point. When Peter tells them, a bear was chasing me, they’ll be looking for me next.”
“I guess we need to get you back,” Harlon said, picking up the bag he’d put my wet stuff in and carrying it to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned to me once more. “You still haven’t told me how you knew about the tiger scar.”
My mouth parted, and I snapped it closed. “Lucky guess.”
His eyes searched mine. He opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut and waved me through the doorway.
When I’d been carried after spraying myself with bear mace, I hadn’t been able to see where my savior had taken me. Harlon’s house sat in an alcove surrounded by a forest of trees. A beat-up truck sat in the dirt driveway. He opened the door, and I slid inside, putting the bag with my wet stuff on the floorboard.
The log house fit the flannel-wearing lumberjack. It was two stories with a wrap-around porch. An older storage shed sat in the distance. The sliding doors were left open shaded by a towering pine tree. Fish were hanging from a beam, and a knife was stuck blade down into a chopped tree trunk.
“What were you doing in the woods when you found me? I mean you carried me here, and we must have walked for ten minutes. Why were you in the woods?”
His lips twitched as he glanced at me. “Why does it matter?”
I shrugged. It really didn’t matter. I was just glad he’d strolled by and had been carrying a gun.
“It doesn’t.” I turned my gaze to the window and watched as we pulled out onto the main road. Had I been looking for his driveway, I would have missed the entrance, probably never to be found again. There wasn’t a landmark to lead me back.
“Thanks again for saving me,” I offered.
“Not a problem. No one needs to know that the savior needed saving,” he said as he pulled into the campground. An ambulance was pulling out just as we pulled in. His lights shined bright on the police officers in the tent, arguing with my sisters.
“Friends of yours?” he asked as I opened the truck door.
“Sisters,” I said, climbing out and grabbing my bag of ruined clothing. “I’ll return your clothes if I can find your house again.”
“Don’t bother. I have plenty more,” he said, reaching over and yanking the door shut before he backed out and left me standing there watching him leave.
Gwen and Faith ran over to me. Gwen grabbed me by my shoulders and turned me around. “Are you hurt? There was a report of a gunshot.”
“She’s in shock. That has to explain it. Gwen, call an ambulance.”
Faith’s words pulled me out of the stupor Harlon had left me in. “I was chased by a bear, but I sprayed him and got it in my eyes. A lumberjack with a gun saved me.”
“A lumberjack, huh?” Gwen asked, glancing in the direction of the road. “I’ll have to be sure to find him and thank him.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think he’s a people person. He lives in the woods for God’s sake.”
Harlon looked like a man hiding from the world. Who had no phone in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere? That alone should have told me something wasn’t right about him. If not very, very wrong.
He’d lifted me and tossed me over his shoulder like a man who’d done it before. Come to think of it, he’d removed my clothes within a matter of seconds. He was skilled at more things than catching fish. Maybe I should have stayed. Maybe not.
What was I saying? Premonitions about that man had haunted me for decades. Maybe they’d stop now. Maybe him saving my life was what those visions had been leading up to.
“I’m fine. I promise. I just want to go home and soak in a hot tub. I’ll call you guys tomorrow.”
“Fine,” Gwen said, watching me with eagle-eyed precision as I slid into my car and lowered the visor for my keys to drop into my lap. Normally I wouldn’t leave my keys hanging around, but doing a search and rescue in the woods, I wasn’t really worried about it being stolen. Everyone who’d showed up had more important issues to worry about, like saving a life. Who knew I’d be in need of saving too?
Harlon
Chapter 4
Arriving back at the house, Harlon grabbed a beer from the fridge, then jogged up the stairs to his office and shoved the doors open.
His high-tech security array was up and running. Four continuous cameras feeds were perched on trees and pointed in the direction of the surrounding woods and two other screens displayed his coworkers who were holding down the New York office. When he entered the room, they glanced up.
“Nice of you to rejoin us,” Quinton said. He and his brother were the ones who’d talked him into coming to the woods.
“One of the search and rescue people needed rescuing. It couldn’t be avoided.”
“You would think they’d send them out better prepared.”
“S
he had bear spray. She was more prepared than most,” Harlon said, tapping on his keyboard. “Be glad I went, because she’s the one I’m looking for.”
Both gazes lifted to the computer screen as Harlon typed in Nina’s name, pulling up every record he could find on her.
A picture popped up, this one from a rescue a year ago in which she’d been a savior. Her brunette hair was a little shorter. Her smile was just as bright.
“You sure? She doesn’t look special. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’d hit that, but she doesn’t seem like she has abilities. I mean you had to save her, after all,” Milton said.
Harlon had known Milton and Quinton his entire life. They’d grown up together thanks to their parents being business partners. Harlon would do pretty much anything for his brothers from another mother, just like they’d do for him.
“I’m not wrong, and neither was the psychic.” Harlon knew it in his gut. The way his body reacted, one look at her in the shower, and he’d known instantly she was the one. Not that he’d share that little detail with the others.
Harlon hadn’t even known her name, but he knew just like he knew he’d draw in his next breath that Nina Bennett would be splayed out on his bed with his name on her lips. Harlon shoved the thought away, needing to prove his suspicions before he could proceed.
“What gave her away? Could she shoot fire out her ass?” Milton asked, earning Quinton’s chuckle.
“She knew my scar was made by a tiger.”
Their chuckles died. “And you say you’ve never met her.”
“I’d remember her if I had,” he claimed.
“She could be working for whoever is after your family. A femme fatale to reel you in.”
Harlon took a swig of his beer and let that thought settle in his brain. She was perfect for it. Dark hair, mesmerizing blue eyes, long tan legs. “Femme fatales don’t act skittish.”
“Could be that’s the way she’s going to reel you in, Harlon. Make you chase her instead of the other way around.”
“Her response when I undressed her wasn’t an act.” Goosebumps rose on her skin as she leaned back into his body and not away.
“Wait. You’ve already undressed her?” Quinton asked. “That’s a new record for you.”
“She found the lost kid and was covered in bear spray. Of course, I undressed her in the shower.”
“And she didn’t succumb to your charms right there? You could have ended this and known for sure.”
“Do you blame her?” Milton asked. “He’s dressed like a fucking backwoods hillbilly.”
She’d been attracted to him. He didn’t have to read her mind to know. He’d smelled her desire battling with her fear.
“I couldn’t read her mind. She has to be the one.”
“Put on your A-game and reel her in. You need to get back here.”
“I’m all over it,” Harlon said, shoving out of his seat and jogging downstairs.
Women came easy to him. Reading their minds helped to know what turned them on. Harlon wouldn’t apologize for doing it. Not when he was dishing out exactly what they wanted. He’d learned his techniques well. He just had to shut up long enough to listen and then deliver. Reading Nina would take a ton more effort. An effort he was willing to put in.
After cooking dinner, Harlon returned to the observation room. Milton and Quinton were no longer on the screens. Their connection had been severed.
He spent the next hour learning everything he could about Nina Bennett. Her presence on social media and interests were all over the place, scattered, like she was moving in more than one direction. She’d done everything from finding lost children in search and rescue to saving other lives. She was an enigma; she was a savior. Was the reason she knew about his scar the same reason that gave her a leg up in the rescues?
There was only one way to find out.
Harlon
Chapter 5
Harlon pulled up into Nina’s drive and got out of the truck. Her blue shutters and windows were open, and lacy curtains danced in the breeze. She was sitting on the porch steps with his clothes folded and laying in her lap. Harlon’s duffel bag sat beside her.
She’d known he was coming, and she’d been waiting.
There wouldn’t be any lame excuses how she knew. Nothing that could have him second-guessing she was gifted in more ways than one.
This moment, the vision of her waiting, would be forever seared into his mind like a painting hung over a mantel. Her rosy cheeks darkened as he approached. Her gaze traveled up and down his body the same way he’d done to her in the shower. Did she know they were connected? Could she feel it?
She was perfect, and Harlon was about to ruin her.
“You knew I was coming.” Harlon’s question was said as a statement. He didn’t have to be able to read her mind to read her like an opened book.
“I should,” she said, clearing her throat. “You’ve been starring in my dreams and premonitions since I was ten.”
“Ten, huh?”
A cloud settled over her features.
“That’s a long time to be dreaming of me.”
Her expressive face changed and almost became somber as she rose to her feet. She held out the clothes he’d loaned her. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out. That must have made me sound crazy. Almost stalkerish. I’m not,” she explained, resting her hand over her heart.
Harlon took the clothes from her and dropped them on the step next to his bag. She was cute when she was nervous. Her cheeks darkened, and she twisted her fingers together, then broke them apart and shoved them into her pockets, but not before he’d seen them trembling. She shifted her weight to her left leg.
So damn cute.
“Why are you dreaming of me?”
She shrugged. Her gaze slid to his scar. “I don’t know.” Her words were a whisper. “But the day they started; you got that scar. I watched it. I knew what was going to happen, and it scared me so much that I woke up screaming for you to run.”
“Invite me in,” Harlon said, ignoring every part of himself that wanted to scoop her up again like he had yesterday and carry her inside. The pull to move closer to her was hard to resist.
“We both know what will happen if I do,” she said, picking up a book that had been lying on the railing. She hugged it to her chest as if the flimsy sketchbook could present a barrier.
He raised a brow in challenge. “Nothing more than coffee will happen. I do have self-control.” His gaze raked down her body. His self-control would be tested.
Her chest fell and rose in the same rhythm as his. Vivid color washed into her cheeks. As if she felt the chemistry between. She wanted him, too.
Slowly, she shook her head, walking backward toward the front door. She had her hand on the knob. She had more self-control than he did.
If he didn’t stop her now, he’d lose his opening. “I have a proposition for you.”
She halted her retreat. “I’m not a hooker.”
He stifled a smile. “Good, it isn’t that kind of proposition.”
The spark in her eyes told him she’d devour him if given a chance. He’d let her too.
Damn it. This wasn’t why he was here. He scolded himself. “I want to hire you for a job.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t even know you. What kind of job could you possibly need me to do?”
“I think you do know me. I’ve starred in your dreams for years.” Harlon pointed out, slowly making his way up the porch steps in her direction. “Unless, of course, it’s what we do in those dreams that have left you…rattled.”
She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’m not rattled, but you should be.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
She opened the book and flipped through the pages, finding the one she wanted. She turned it for him to see.
She’d drawn him in an apartment, not the log cabin he’d been staying in. Harlon had his hands on his head as men pointed guns his direction. “Is this
supposed to be me.”
She tsked and pointed to the scar. “Of course, and it seems someone doesn’t like you.”
“I can see that,” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to know the reason why, would you?” he asked.
She spun it around and stared down at the sketch before hugging it once again it to her chest. “No, but I know it’s you. You have the mark from the cat.” Her gaze lifted to his scar.
Harlon took out his wallet, unfolded a picture that showed a family sitting around a Christmas tree, and handed it to her.
Her soft touch grazed his hand for only a mere second, but Manny’s voice boomed in his head and that moment started playing out as if caught on film like a movie in his thoughts. The sound was garbled, not enough to make out Manny’s words, but it was enough to spur his interest.
She let go of the picture and gasped as she lifted her gaze, swallowing hard. “What was that?”
“Your vision and my voice,” he answered as best he could and held her gaze. “Can we take this inside now, so I can explain?”
“Coffee, nothing more?” she asked before opening the door.
“Sure. If that’s what you want.” He winked, unable to stop himself from flirting with her.
Harlon couldn’t help it. He enjoyed making her blush, knowing that a single word or move on his part could stir her up inside and out. Even knowing he shouldn’t. Even knowing what it could cost him if she said no. He couldn’t help that he wanted to see her blush again.
Chapter 6
I shouldn’t have let him in. I shouldn’t have touched him. I should have known better. Nothing ever comes easy for my sisters or me. Why would my life and the man of my dreams be any different? A single touch and all of my hopes and dreams of it being easy had been dashed.
I made coffee while he leaned against the kitchen doorframe, one leg crossed over the other. His hands—those skilled weapons from the shower that held possibilities of molding me like clay—were shoved into his pockets. His presence was overpowering, just as his body blocked most of the door entryway.
Hard to Hold (Bennett Dynasty Book 4) Page 2
