Love & Secrets

by Elizabeth Lennox

  She couldn’t stop the burst of laughter. “No. I didn’t neuter Bart. Mostly because he’s a pure bred. But also because I live out in the middle of the woods. I didn’t think he needed to be fixed. Who would he run into?”

  “Until I bought the land next to your house and moved in with my long haired beauty.”

  Did he glance over at her blonde hair as he said that? Were they still talking about the dogs?

  “Yes, well, we’re neighbors.”

  “Are you really going to go all Romeo and Juliette on me? Are we going to forbid our dogs from seeing each other?”

  Charlotte desperately tried to swallow the next round of laughter. The man was incorrigible. “Yes. I think we should keep them separate. I think it would be safer that way.”

  He moved closer. “What are you going to eat for dinner?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth, about to tell him that it wasn’t his business. But the words wouldn’t come out. He wasn’t as obnoxious as she’d first thought, Charlotte realized. In fact, he was funny and nice and sexy in ways she didn’t completely understand. And after the week she’d been through, she was weak.

  “Bart and I were planning a night of ice cream and chick flicks.”

  He looked down at the dog, Bart tilted his head and looked right back. When Oz looked at her, she knew she was in more trouble.

  “How about this. My television was delivered yesterday and I had my tech guys install a new sound system. Why don’t you come to my place, bring Bart, we’ll formally introduce him to Betty and show him how to behave while I cook…” he paused for a moment, thinking, “grilled brie and bacon sandwiches with a nice, arugula salad, good wine, and amusing company.”

  She started drooling. Brie and bacon? Grilled? Oh, Satan! “What about the chick flicks?” she asked, unaware of the sparkle in her eyes.

  “How about a good action movie? I’ll even let you choose one with lots of bare chests and won’t be offended when you stare.” She weakened and he knew it. “Come on. You know you want to.”

  She sighed. “Yes, but not because I want to get to know you. And definitely not because our dogs need to socialize with each other.” She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. “I just really hate cooking and the idea of another dinner of ice cream or cereal…or both…doesn’t appeal nearly as much as the temptation of a grilled…whatever you just said.” She pulled back slightly, a thought suddenly occurring to here. “Can you really cook?”

  He laughed and put a hand to the small of her back. “I’m almost as good as Tony Itola,” he promised.

  She groaned. Satan was alive and well! “Oh, that’s good!”

  “Meet me at my house in an hour. And bring Bart. Betty will be eagerly looking forward to seeing him again. I’ll stop by the store and get the ingredients for dinner.” With that, he opened the driver’s door and helped her into the seat.

  Charlotte was halfway home when she realized that she hadn’t ever agreed to dinner with him tonight. He’d just taken the choice away from her.

  Interesting man, she thought.

  Chapter 4

  Oz turned the corner and saw Charlotte. She was just sitting on the front stoop of his house, Bart by her feet and looking like she was debating the sanity of staying around.

  “What am I doing here?” she asked of her dog.

  “Having dinner,” Oz answered and took the steps two at a time, Betty way ahead of him after dashing out of the car. Already, Betty and Bart were dancing around each other, excited to see each other. He reached down and took the bakery box out of her hands. “You stopped by Jane’s place, didn’t you?” he asked, lifting the box up to smell whatever might be inside. “Is it her chocolate scones? Those are the best!”

  “No, she was sold out of scones. But I got an apple pie. I wasn’t sure if…well, if you’d already started dinner.”

  He laughed, pushing through the door and leading everyone inside. “You don’t believe I can cook, do you?”

  She shrugged, and turned away to admire his home. It was spacious, with lots of light flowing in front the early evening sunset. But very little furniture.

  “Where’s all of your stuff?” she asked.

  He led her through the mostly-empty house but she stopped when she saw the great room. It was all glossy hardwood floors, a massive stone fireplace, and walls of glass. The views of the woods beyond were…stunning!

  “Wow!” she whispered. “This is amazing!”

  He stood beside her, looking out at the sunset shining through the early spring leaves. “Yeah, this is a pretty good view. I love it in the morning. When it’s too cold to sit outside and drink coffee, this is almost as good.”

  She laughed, shaking her head slightly. “I’d love it just about any time of the day!”

  “Come through here.” He turned her and she took a few more steps then…froze. The kitchen was enormous! More of that beautiful stone lining the back of the counters and behind the sink, then more along one wall, making the kitchen look very rustic. Stainless steel appliances, black marble countertops and sleek cabinets on the bottom with only shelves on top.

  “This is impressive!” she sighed. “It almost makes me want to learn to cook.”

  “Almost?”

  Her mouth twisted slightly. “I had to cook when I was a teenager for my parents. I’d come home from school and they’d expect dinner to be ready when they arrived home from work each night.” She bent down to scratch Betty’s soft ears. “So no, I don’t like cooking, although I know the basics.”

  “What are the basics in your opinion?” he asked, setting the bakery box on the huge island. He pulled several items out of the fridge, then poured her a glass of wine.

  As he cooked, she told him more about growing up with parents that were intensely ambitious, competing with each other on who had the more intense work pressure. As an only child, she was raised to push herself just as much as her parents had. Thankfully, she’d met their expectations so family get togethers weren’t horrible. But because of their competitive natures, those family dinners were few and far between since neither parent wanted to slow down and admit that they might have a bit of spare time in their schedules. “But even better, I’m doing something I believe in.”

  “They approve of your job as a therapist?”

  She shrugged, taking a sip of the excellent wine as she pulled her eyes away from his butt as he pulled something out of the fridge. “They would prefer it if I practiced in a big city somewhere. But yes, they approve.”

  “How often do you see them?” he asked, placing the brie and bacon sandwiches into a sizzling pan. The kitchen smelled like butter and bacon and everything decadent.

  “We get together maybe once a year.”

  She took a sip of wine and he asked, “So you don’t do all of the other holidays with your family?”

  She shook her head and hid the painful memories behind the glass of wine. “No. We don’t do that. My parents usually head off on vacation during the holidays, not wanting to be bothered with all of the silliness.” She snatched a slice of an orange pepper. “I get cards in the mail.”

  His eyes looked into her features as he paused with the cutting. “But you want something different,” he guessed.

  She shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. Thinking of her parents and the loneliness of the holidays made her think of how wrong Oz was for her and what she wanted in life. The hearth and home weren’t really in his future, she suspected. Just looking at this house, all the beautiful vistas…and the lack of furniture…told her that he was a bachelor through and through.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” he asked, but she noticed that his features were once again closed off.

  “What do you do for the holidays?”

  “I get together with my brother and sister. We always exchange gifts over Christmas.” When he was in town, he thought, but kept that to himself. He couldn’t mention not being in town without her askin
g questions that he couldn’t answer. Too often, the bad guys didn’t notice, or didn’t respect, the holidays and he found himself in some foreign country on a mission. That was getting old, he thought. Even as he thought it, Oz wondered if there was some way that he, Jayce, and Carly could…maybe start a few holiday traditions. And Ryker. He might not officially be family, but he was like a brother. Oz would have to figure out how to keep his family together during the next holiday season. They made enough money now to tell the powers that be to go to hell if they asked him to go off over the holidays. In the past, he hadn’t thought twice about going on a mission during those times.

  But lately…

  Perhaps it was just the move here to LowPoint and building his house. He’d designed this place for his own preferences, his own needs. But why he needed five bedrooms, Oz wasn’t exactly sure. The image of several kids running around, the house filled with the sounds of their laughter popped into his mind.

  Kids! Now that’s something he’d never contemplated before. At least not consciously. Maybe he’d thought about it unconsciously, which is why he’d built a house with so many bedrooms. And a huge kitchen. Yeah, he wouldn’t mind coming home every night to cook for a family, watching over his kids as they sat on a stool at the countertop doing their homework. He’d love to give Carly and Jayce the chance to have nieces and nephews.

  But that was for another time. Right now, he looked over the island counter and noticed Charlotte was looking at him curiously. “Sorry, did you ask something?”

  “I asked where your parents were.”

  “They’re gone,” he said, not mentioning that his mother had abandoned him and his father had been killed in a drunken brawl. But not before the old man had beaten the crap out of him until Oz had walked out and joined the Army. Oz had come back to rescue Carly as soon as he’d had learned of her existence, getting her out of that abusive, disgusting shack.

  “Oz.” He heard his name and looked up, startled. “You okay?’ she asked gently.

  Was he okay? Not really. He didn’t often think about that time when he’d broken into his father’s house after learning that Carly was there with the monster. Carly’s mother had died of cancer and the social workers had discovered that Carly had a father. They’d dumped Carly off at that man’s house and never looked back. Never investigated his background.

  Not that they would have found anything. The man had somehow escaped detection all the years that he’d beaten Oz. But still, they should have known. Someone had to have mentioned something to someone.

  “Oz,” Charlotte said again.

  He looked down at her and realized that he was gripping the pan as if he might break off the steel handle. “Sorry,” he mumbled and flipped the sandwiches over.

  “You went off for a moment. Where’d you go?”

  Her beautiful, blue eyes blinked up at him. Damn, she was sweet. And pretty. But the concern in her eyes made him uncomfortable. Looking around, he spotted her glass on the counter. “You need more wine,” he reached behind him to the fridge, pulling out the bottle and pouring her another glass. “Dinner is almost ready. Why don’t we eat it outside on the patio?” He turned off the heat. “I actually have furniture out there.”

  Thankfully, she accepted the change in subject and looked out through the huge windows of his kitchen. “Isn’t it too chilly at night?”

  “Don’t worry about the weather. I have a gas fireplace out there.” He slid the sandwiches onto plates, and carried them through the doors. “You got the wine?”

  They sat out on the wooden deck, eating the delicious sandwiches and salad, sipping the excellent wine and talking. Their voices were soft, laughing often as they talked about politics and religion, both of them assiduously staying away from their childhoods. For some reason, the taboo subjects of politics and religion seemed safer tonight as the gas fireplace crackled, emitting just enough warmth.

  When he walked her to her house that night, Bart and Betty trotting along beside them, Charlotte became nervous. And for good reason. Their conversation died, his strong arm occasionally brushing hers as they walked through the quiet night.

  Standing in front of her door, she looked up at him, feeling awkward all of a sudden. She was just about to extend her hand to thank him for dinner when he stepped closer. “I’m going to kiss you, Charlotte.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Let’s risk it,” he replied.

  She put a hand to his chest, stopping him with a touch. “Oz, I don’t think this is going to work.”

  He braced a hand on the door frame on either side of her head. “Sure it will. You just need to stop talking.” He moved closer. “Just let me do all the work.”

  She laughed, but put more pressure on his chest. “Oz, you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, and I don’t agree. I think this is going to work out perfectly. You just have to stop worrying about every little detail.”

  “We want different things.”

  “Not true. We want each other. That seems to be the basis for what is inevitable.”

  “Nothing is inevitable.”

  He grinned and she suspected that she’d said something wrong. “What?”

  He moved in closer, his lips barely an inch from her own. “You didn’t deny that you want me, Charlotte. For now, I’ll take that as enough.”

  She started to open her mouth to argue with him, but his lips covered hers, stopping whatever she might have said. That kiss was…powerful! Intense. And over before she was ready for it to be over.

  When he pulled back, she could feel the heat radiating off of him. The power was there, barely constrained. Power and confidence and an intensity that terrified her!

  “Ah, Charlotte. When we work out all of the details, it is going to be amazing.”

  With that, he turned and walked into the darkness. She watched him for a long moment, wondering about him. He was much more complicated than she’d originally thought. And yet, much more basic. There were unexpected, and incredibly attractive, depths to Oz Cole.

  And that made him so much more dangerous than she’d ever thought possible.

  Chapter 5

  Charlotte stared at her computer, the words from her last session just not coming. Her thoughts were on last night and her surprisingly romantic dinner with Oz. There was that moment when he’d left her. Not physically, but mentally. But when she’d asked about it, Oz had simply dismissed the moment, pretending as if nothing had happened.

  A knock on her door jerked her back to the present and she looked up.

  “Sorry to bother you, Charlotte, but there’s a phone call from Sheriff Emerson.”

  Charlotte’s heart stopped then began to pound frantically. “Put it through quickly,” she said.

  Nancy nodded, then pulled Charlotte’s door closed again, knowing that privacy was most likely needed for this phone call. A call from the police usually meant that one of her patients was in trouble. One of her kids had done something horrible and had been caught. Frantically, she sifted through her teenager patients, trying to anticipate which one had done something wrong.

  But before she could finish the list, her phone rang

  “This is Dr. Bixby,” she greeted the handsome, friendly sheriff.

  “Charlotte, this is Emerson. And nothing is wrong,” he assured her quickly.

  Charlotte released her breath in a gush. “Oh, thank goodness!” she laughed. Then regrouped, putting her mind back in gear. “Okay, so if nothing is wrong, what’s up?”

  “I have a proposal for you. Would you have time this afternoon to discuss a project with me?”

  “Of course,” she replied, then pulled up her schedule. “Did you have a time in mind?”

  “You’re the one with the patients all afternoon. I can work around your schedule. What time do you have open today?”

  “How about one o’clock?”

  “That works for me. I’ll see you then.”

  Charlotte s
miled as she hung up the phone and greeted her next patient. Sheriff Emerson was such a nice man. And his wife was a wonderful, friendly and vivacious woman! Just the other day, she’d seen Marilee with her kids and those adorable dogs in the park. Marilee was quirky and sweet and the complete opposite of her husband. Sheriff Jansing was tough, big, and had an aura about him that warned everyone that he saw and knew everything. Not many people messed with him and those that did, lived to regret it.

  Her thoughts shifted back to Oz and his broad shoulders. And all of those muscles. No, she thought as she shifted the file in her hands. Oz was definitely not good husband material. There were secrets around that man. And Charlotte was finished with men and their secrets. Been there, done that. Got the divorce papers because of her ex-husband’s secrets.

  “Hi there, Jimmy. Are you ready?” she smiled at the man sitting in her waiting room.

  Chapter 6

  “Hey Big Brother,” Carly called, stepping into Oz’s office. “Here. You have a meeting with Sheriff Emmerson at one o’clock today.”

  Oz scowled at his sister, irritated at her interruption of his contemplation of how he would make love to Charlotte for the first time. And the tenth time. Yeah, he had a list going. Once he finally got that woman into his bed, he didn’t plan to let her leave for a long time. Damn, never before had a woman gotten to him like Charlotte had!

  “Hey!” Carly interrupted his thoughts again, looking at him curiously. “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you,” he replied, leaning back in his leather chair and making a face at his baby sister. “I hadn’t decided if I was going to listen though.”

  She turned her green eyes on him, eyes that were so similar to his own that it was a bit startling. But in Carly, her eyes were big and beautiful, filled with that sparkle that always made him glad that he’d snatched her out of that hell-hole of a house his father had been living so many years ago. He suspected that Carly still had scars from those years. Who wouldn’t? She’d been dumped there when she was five years old and had barely survived the next several years. Oz had found her hiding in her closet, doing her homework by the light of a flashlight with one hand while cradling her other arm against her stomach. The arm had been broken the previous day by their bastard of a father who had been drunk. The man had been unaware of Carly’s pain because he’d smacked Carly around, then gone out and gotten even drunker.