Carla Neggers - Cold Pursuit

Smoke curled from the chimney. Jo could smell it in the air. Elijah had been home all of a half hour, and he already had a fire going.

She heard a noise under the deck and pointed her flashlight beam in that direction, illuminating Elijah as he walked out with an armload of cordwood. “What’s up, Jo?”

She lowered her light to his feet. “Did you search my cabin?”

“Why would I do that?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He moved forward with his wood. “No, Jo, I did not search your cabin.”

She felt the cold now and tried not to shiver. “Someone did. It’s not obvious. The place wasn’t tossed.”

“But you’re a Secret Service agent, and you can tell.”

She didn’t think he was being sarcastic, but it was just a guess. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him. “Yes,” she said seriously. “What about your place?”

He nodded toward the deck stairs. “Let’s go up and have a look.”

“You’d have noticed, wouldn’t you?”

“Not necessarily. I wasn’t thinking about break-ins when I got back here.”

“What were you thinking about?”

His eyes settled on her. “You don’t want to know.”

“Did you hear anything in the woods?”

“Turkeys, but I only just got out here.” He nodded toward the stairs up to the deck. “Let’s go inside.”

“I haven’t fixed the salad-”

“Forget the salad.”

He carried his armload of wood up the stairs and led her through a slider into a warm, cozy room than ran the length of the deck. The furnishings were in warm woods and earthy colors, and although he’d only been in town a few weeks and hadn’t yet finished the house, it looked lived-in, as if he were at home now and meant to stay. On the back wall was a stone chimney with a Vermont Castings woodstove. Wooden spiral stairs wound up to an open-rail balcony with two doors, presumably to bedrooms.

Elijah dropped the wood into a rustic box he’d obviously constructed himself. As much as he might belong there, Jo had sensed that his presence in Black Falls wasn’t permanent. He’d seemed as rootless as she was, if in a different way. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

The sliders and large windows overlooked the lake, dark now with nightfall.

Jo noticed how quiet it was with the doors and windows shut-no wind, no lapping of the lake below, no night sounds. Just the popping and hissing of the fire. “Do you like being back here?” she asked abruptly.

“Sure. I don’t like the way I got back.” He turned from the wood box. “Anything suggest an intruder to you?”

She shook her head. “No. Not to me.”

He advanced a few steps toward her. “You’re an experienced Secret Service special agent who rumor has it can shoot the eyes out of a crow, and here I am worrying about you being alone in your cabin.”

“You’re feeling protective of me, are you?” She couldn’t resist a smile. “That has to be a first.”

“Not really.”

He was right in front of her now. There was nothing casual about him, but nothing confrontational, either. The stiffness and tight control of earlier at the café had abated. But Jo had no illusions as his so-blue eyes settled on her with a frankness she found erotic, a little unnerving and totally irresistible. This was a dangerous man at a critical turning point in his life, and having her there, with him on the lake, wasn’t necessarily good for either one of them. She had a career to save, but Elijah had lost his father and very nearly lost his own life in combat. And he’d seen friends die.

Jo motioned toward the pleasant room. “It’s a nice place,” she said, then attempted a smile. “Homey.”

He touched her hair and smiled back at her. “Like you care about homey. You’re restless, Jo. Always have been.”

“I keep coming back to Black Falls.”

“So you do.”

But she saw that his mind wasn’t on his words. He let his hand fall to her waist, and she thought she heard him say her name as his mouth found hers. His arms encircled her, and he drew her toward him. She responded eagerly, welcoming the kiss, deepening it herself as she slipped her arms around him. He hadn’t worn a coat down to his woodpile. His soft sweater warmed her hands.

Even after fifteen years, he felt familiar, comfortable-as rugged and sexy and desirable as she remembered of their days together on the lake so long ago.

How out of their minds were they?

But the question evaporated from her mind as he lowered his hands to her hips, boldly easing them under her jacket and shirt and finding her bare skin. She heard her own sharp intake of air as desire spread through her. He lifted her off her feet and into him, and she could feel that he was hard already. He pressed himself against her in just the right spot. Her head spun, and with a start, she realized he wasn’t a teenager anymore. He was a man in his thirties, hard-edged and battle-scarred, literally and figuratively, in ways he hadn’t been at nineteen.

Finally, he raised his mouth from hers and set her down onto the hardwood floor. He dropped his hands from her. She stood back, breathless, wanting more. But she adjusted her shirt and her jacket and cleared her throat. She was hot now and she could see he was, too. As calm and controlled as he was outwardly, she noticed the flare of his nostrils, the dark cast to his eyes. His gaze skimmed over her as if she were naked. “Hell, Jo, you’re wearing me out. Takes a lot out of me to hold myself back with you. Kissing you is the easy part.” He traced one finger over her lips. “It always has been.”

“We’re in uncharted waters here, Elijah.”

“Not so uncharted.”

When they were growing up, it seemed as if they had nothing in common at all. Now, after they’d both been on their own, had left their families and small town, she could see that she and Elijah had more in common than they could possibly have realized as teenagers.

Which didn’t mean kissing him was smart.

“Would you like me to have a look around and tell you what I think?”

“Of what, my choice in sheets and towels?”

“As to whether or not someone searched your house,” she said.

“Ah. No, that’s okay. Want me to check out your cabin?”

“No.” She ignored his amused, knowing smile and continued, “Let me take a rain check on dinner. The brownie I ate at the café has my head spinning.”

“I don’t think it’s the brownie.”

“Elijah…”

His eyes held hers a moment, but he didn’t speak.

She did. “Your father came to see me when he was in Washington in early April.”

He lifted a log from a small stack on the brick hearth and opened the top of the stove and lowered the wood onto the fire. “I didn’t know he’d gone to Washington.”

“He said he didn’t tell anyone. He just went and let A.J. and Rose and everyone else in Black Falls think he was on a fishing trip. He wanted to see the cherry blossoms. I know that much.” She stood closer to the fire, felt its heat. “He told me he’d had a premonition that something bad was going to happen to you.”

“Anxiety about the dangers I faced isn’t the same as a premonition. He knew I was in Afghanistan.” Elijah adjusted the dampers on the woodstove. “It’s just a coincidence that I was wounded in April.”

“Maybe so. Drew was dealing with some guilt about us.” Jo didn’t go into detail. “We had a pleasant afternoon together. The cherry blossoms were particularly beautiful this year, and it was a gorgeous day. It’s a good memory, Elijah.”

He glanced back at her. “I’m glad for that, Jo.”

“I wish you’d been the one walking among the cherry blossoms with your father. I’m sorry it wasn’t.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He turned from the fire. “I want you to have a good memory of my father.”