by Lori Whyte
"Do you have a flashlight?"
Wordlessly, she left to retrieve one. When she returned, she gave one to him and kept one for herself. An air of anticipation hung over them as he turned back the lock.
He waited only a moment, to see if anyone would make a move at them, before stepping outside. The beam from his flashlight sliced through the charcoal shadows clinging to the face of the building. He easily found the footprints.
He frowned.
Anna followed him and the door shut behind them. They walked to the end of the wall and back again. When they approached the door, she let out a little squeal.
"What?"
"There. Look." Her flashlight pointed at the door.
Carved into the wood with rough, rudimentary lettering was the word "Mine."
It could have been there when he'd returned. He couldn't be sure. With the bulb missing over the door, the shadows could have easily swallowed the carving.
He swung his light around again. Nothing else seemed amiss, but he ushered her inside anyway. He didn't like that he couldn't see into the trees. The bastard could still be out there.
They needed a dog out here. One that didn't like strangers.
Except the inn's purpose was to be full of strangers.
"I can take you to Aiden's for the night. Or Hearts, if you prefer," he said as they moved into the living room. "Ryan's, maybe?"
They still hadn't turned on any lamps and the beams from their flashlights bounced over the furnishings, making them appear strange and unusual.
"I'm not leaving." The gun waved through the air in a wide arc.
"Anna—"
"No, Mason. This is my home. I'm not going anywhere."
He took the gun from her hand and set it on the couch, then he put his flashlight on the table, positioning it so it illuminated their faces without blinding them.
"Anna," he said quietly, "I don't think Viv had a stalker."
"Of course she did…" She flicked her hand through the air in a gesture of impatience. "She wrote about it. She…"
Mason shook his head slowly and her words trailed off.
"I think you have one… and I think it is Harry Miller."
"No way. You've got it wrong." But even as she denied his idea, realization lit in her eyes. She put her hand over her mouth in disbelief.
He wrapped his hands over the tops of her arms to steady her.
"You think he killed Viv to get to me?"
"I swung by his place on my way back from Aiden's." Mason pursed his lips. "I wasn't going to say anything about it tonight, but things have changed."
"You told me we shouldn't do that. That we should wait. Besides, why wouldn't you say anything to me? I thought we were doing this together."
She crossed her arms and he smiled.
"Well?" She tapped her foot. "Did you find something? You must have or you wouldn't have mentioned it."
"He has an old orange truck under a tarp in his barn."
"You trespassed?" She hit him. The smack wasn't hard, but the gesture was revealing. "You think he is a murderer and you snuck onto his property. Are you crazy?"
He laughed and caught her hand in his before she could whack him with it again. "Worried about me?"
She pushed her hand through her hair, causing it to flow over her shoulders and down her back. In the faint light, it shimmered like gold. "Of course I am."
The declaration was hard won, but it sounded like heaven hearing it from her. If she worried, she might care for him.
"I'm worried about you too," he said, "which is why I think you should stay elsewhere, somewhere that Harry can't find you, until we talk to the police and get this sorted out."
"Are you staying somewhere else tonight?"
"No…"
She put her hands on her hips and tilted her chin up. "Then neither am I."
"Fine, but I'm not letting you out of my sight."
"Fine."
God, this was going to be a long, long night.
ELEVEN
This was going to be a long, long night.
Good lord, the very idea of him not letting her out of his sight for the whole night sent shivers over her. She had to get out of here before she launched herself at him, since that probably wasn't what he had in mind.
She turned on her heel and headed toward the hall that connected the apartment to the inn.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to paint."
Mason grabbed her hand and stopped her retreat. "Did you eat anything? Besides those apples?"
"I had a granola bar too."
"I mean a proper meal."
She pulled her hand from his. His touch was doing crazy things to her heart rate.
"Let's grab a bite, then I'll go up with you and we can both paint." Without waiting for her reply, he walked to the kitchen and turned on the light.
She itched to flick it off again, but cooking in the dark sounded dangerous.
"If anyone is watching," he said, as if sensing her thoughts, "let them watch."
He opened and closed the cupboards until he found a couple of pots. "Stir fry?"
She wasn't sure she would even be able to eat right now, but she nodded anyway. "Do you really think Harry is…" She shuddered. "After me?"
"Everything is pointing to that." He frowned. Then he rifled through more of her shelves. "You do have rice, don't you?"
She pulled a box of rice from the one cupboard he hadn't opened yet and handed it to him.
"My brothers will be here in the morning."
"Aren't Drew and Grady back in the city?"
He shrugged. "That's what family does."
He was right. She'd drive to the tip of South America and back if Ryan was ever in need.
"You sound like you have a plan."
He winked at her. "That's what I do. I solve problems. That means I come up with plans."
"And…?"
"And the first one is well in hand."
"Is it?"
"Yep." He made a show of holding his hand in front of him like he was referring to an imaginary list. Then he pretended to tick off an item. "Feed Anna."
She rolled her eyes.
"Here," he said, pushing a cutting board toward her, "chop some vegetables."
As they prepared the meal, she thought he would expand on the rest of his strategy, but he didn't. Maybe getting through the night was as far as he'd gotten for the moment. Still, as they worked together, she began to relax.
He did that, made things seem easy and in control. And, weirdly, that was also how he cooked. Hell, maybe he did everything that way.
Her mother had shooed people out of the kitchen and acted like cooking was about sweat and manual labor, but the Randalls didn't do that. She couldn't imagine, based on what she'd heard of George and Edna, they'd learned that when they were adopted, which meant the practice was something Viv had done with them when she'd taken over caring for them.
Viv had made this place a home, first for her brothers and then for Anna.
Everything about this place was coated with memories of Viv, right down to the paring knife Anna was using. Viv had purchased the knife for herself and tucked it into her own stocking for Christmas two years ago. She'd laughed when she said Santa had brought her something.
As practical and efficient as she was, Viv still liked to laugh.
"I miss Viv," Anna said as she tossed the vegetable waste into the compost bucket. She wiped her hands on the dish towel, and wished she hadn't said anything when Mason didn't respond.
He stared into the skillet without looking up, stirring the vegetables in a long slow sweep. The sizzle of the hot oil was the only sound. Then he set the wooden spoon aside and turned to her.
She shouldn't have been staring, but she didn't look away when he caught her gaze on him. The moment extended between them. Enveloping them.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for her… for both of you," he said at long last.
She stared at him
for a moment. Then she closed the short distance between them and wrapped her arms around him.
He stood without moving for a moment, then he hugged her back.
"I never thought I had pushed her away… never thought that she wouldn't turn to me for help if she needed it."
"There was a lot I didn't know either." She squeezed him in an effort to rid them both of the guilt that clung to them.
They stood that way for several heartbeats. She didn't dare let her hands drift up or down… This moment wasn't about her desire for him. It was about loss and regret and…
Her body totally didn't get that.
His body against hers was waking every longing and tingle. Her nerves zinged to life, clamoring for more… the heat from his breath on her skin, the brush of his lips against her temple… anything.
Then he pulled back and stared into her eyes. A sense of intimacy wove over them. His lips tempted her… Then the timer they'd set for the rice pinged. They jolted apart.
"Supper is ready," he said.
As they sat and ate their meal, they settled into a relaxed conversation. She shared stories about some of the memorable guests and he talked about his employees, particularly his personal assistant. Mason was easy to talk to. She'd always suspected that, but she hadn't spent much time alone with him before now. She could get used to having him around.
After they cleaned up the dishes, he grinned at her.
"All right, put me to work," he said.
"Ha, you have no idea what you are saying," she teased.
"I'm at your mercy."
Wow. If only.
He checked the locks, and she retrieved the gun. Then they made their way back to the third floor. She was feeling easier about things now, but she still wanted to have the weapon handy.
Just in case.
The paint in the last room she'd completed was still sticky. The second coat would have to wait. She moved to the next room.
"Okay, we need to move the furniture to the center of the room."
"You did that by yourself in the other rooms, didn't you? You should have asked for help."
She shrugged and crouched beside the bed. She reached under until her hands hit the bed frame.
"Wait," he said. He circled the bed and grabbed the other side. "One, two…"
On three they lifted.
When they set the bed down again, something creaked… then crunched…
Then the bed wobbled. Something gave and the head of the bed dropped to the floor and the mattress slid down. She tried to hold the frame to limit any more movement, but then the legs at the foot of the bed, cocked at a weird angle, broke too.
She pulled back with a grunt. Just in time to escape having the bed land on her fingers. She fell backward with a thud.
"Shit. Are you okay?"
Mason was over the bed and at her side before she could blink.
"What happened to the bed?"
"Never mind the bed. Are you hurt?" He was kneeling at her side now. His face was contorted with worry as he scanned her.
"I'm fine."
But he didn't seem to believe her. His gaze traveled up and down her body as if to assess her condition for himself.
"Was it sabotaged?"
"The bed?" He lifted his eyebrows in surprise.
Okay. So that sounded uber-paranoid. But given the last few days, was it any wonder?
She pushed herself upright. "Can we check?"
A few minutes later, she had to concede that no one had done anything nefarious to the bed legs. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Mason beside her. Her thigh had somehow come to rest on his leg like it belonged there. She stared at the splintered wood.
"What could have broken that? Just moving it couldn't have fractured the wood like that."
His laughter was smooth and rich and deep. His hand touched her knee. His heat seeped through the denim and teased her senses. It wasn't a sexual touch. Not really. But it held an implication… a possibility… Which sent a tingling sensation spreading over her.
"What?"
His eyes glinted when she looked up and found him looking at her. When had he leaned so close? So close… that even the space between them had become infused with his scent.
"I think some of your guests were invigorated by the rural air." There was a rough edge to his voice that reminded her of panting moans and urgent commands.
"Invigorated by the… You think they broke it while having sex? As if." This time she was the one to laugh. It had a husky tone she hardly recognized. "I don't think so."
The air between them sizzled. Mason came nearer still and her laughter faded. A slow grin tugged at his lips. It promised wicked, wonderful things. She wanted to taste that grin, devour it.
"That sounds like a dare," he said. His gaze locked on hers.
"The legs are inches thick. I don't think this damage was caused by sex," she whispered. Talking about inches and thicknesses wasn't helping to keep her thoughts PG-rated. "The wood must have been damaged."
"Right," he said. His face was a scant distance from hers. The heat from his breath slipped across her lips. "From other people having sex on this bed. Rough. Vigorous. All-consuming sex." Each word rolled off his lips like a seductive suggestion.
"You make it sound like this is a brothel."
His nostrils flared at that idea. He shook his head slowly as his hand slipped higher up the inner thigh of the same leg that was resting so casually and naturally against his. His fingers flicked against the seam of her jeans, pulling the fabric tighter, then releasing it.
"No, not a brothel," he said. His hand traveled closer and closer to where she ached. "You could never be in a brothel."
His eyes were as dark as midnight now as he bridged the scant distance between them.
"Because I don't share," he said against her lips as his mouth claimed hers.
TWELVE
Mason brushed his lips over hers and felt her quivering response. He pulled back, just a bit, so he could look into her eyes.
"I want you, Anna."
She swallowed, but didn't say anything. Well, that wasn't exactly a rousing hell-yeah.
"But two things have to happen first."
Her glistening wet tongue slipped out, licked her lips, then disappeared into her mouth again. He wanted to chase it back inside with his own. He stared straight into her eyes.
"First, say you want this too."
She nodded.
"Say the words." His fingers itched with the need to feel her, but he held back. He had to be careful, because this was Anna… She was too special to trifle with. If she wasn't sure, he'd stop. Even if it killed him. "Tell me you want me."
Her gaze flitted away from his for a moment. Her hand danced up his arm to his shoulder. The soft touch did wicked things to him. Please let her say yes.
Then she met his gaze again. Her cheeks were pink with a blush.
"Yes, Mason. I want you too."
Her admission was like jet fuel in his veins. His whole body rocketed to life.
"Second thing… We're finding another room. I'm not making love with you on the floor."
She grinned and pulled out a master key from her pocket.
He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and wanted to shout Hallelujah. Then he rose to his feet. She seemed surprised at how swiftly he moved, but she had no idea how long he'd been waiting for this moment. He didn't want her to change her mind. Not now.
He extended his hands to her. As soon as she slipped her fingers against his palm, he tugged her up. She fell forward, landing against him. Her body was flush with his.
She felt so good in his arms with her breasts flat against his chest. He wasn't sure he would make it to another room. The need to taste her, explore her, was overwhelming.
But he'd be damned if he would let their first time be on a broken bed or an old rug.
Their first time…
He already knew once wouldn't be enough. Not with Anna.
/> Then she twisted in his arms. She slipped her arm into his and then tugged him down the hallway to the end. He knew where she was going. She was leading him to the biggest room they had. The one Edna had called the Honeymoon Suite.
With any other woman, being led to a room that was in any way connected with matrimony would have made Mason sweat… and not in a good way. But with Anna things were different. There was a rightness to this.
She slipped the key into the lock and then they were in. He followed her inside. She walked right by the light switch, but he couldn't. He wanted to see everything about her. Savor every blush.
"Oh," she said with surprise when the lights came on. Then she turned to look at the room. "This is one of the first rooms Viv and I renovated. Do you like it?"
"Beautiful," he murmured, but he wasn't talking about the room. He hadn't even looked at it. He wasn't here for the decor. Besides, he couldn't drag his gaze from the beautiful sensual woman that would soon be his.
"I always wondered…" Her whispered words trailed off as she moved closer to the big bed with its pristine white coverings.
"What?" he asked as he followed her. "What did you wonder?"
She turned away, but not before he could see a blush stain her cheeks.
He came up behind her and slipped his arms around her. He dragged her up tight against his body as he brushed her hair aside to leave her neck exposed to him. The column of soft white skin begged to be kissed. He pulled his lips along that smooth expanse, from the base up to her ear. Then he tugged her small earlobe into his mouth and sucked it gently. She quivered against him.
"Tell me," he whispered.
"I imagined you and me in here… Just like this." She tensed at her admission, as if she was scared she had revealed too much.
But she hadn't and his cock hardened even more at her words. "I've wanted you for a long time too. That's why I stayed away."
"Really?" She twisted to look at him.
"That last Thanksgiving I came here," he said. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you. Every time you laughed… every time you moved… every time you brushed against me… No matter how innocent—fuck, I spent the whole weekend with a hard-on. Then the family took me aside and told me they'd never forgive me if I tried anything… But I couldn't think of you as a sister. Only as a woman." He shook his head. "You can't imagine what it took to stay away."
