Angela Campbell - Spirited Away

“I would have come sooner if I’d known I’d get that kind of a greeting.” Bent over now, Noah scratched the dog behind his ears and didn’t seem to mind in the least when Charlie slipped him some tongue.

Eww. Just eww.

“Would you please come in and check the bedroom for me?” She nudged Costello back with her foot and gestured down the hall. “I think someone might be in there.”

“What?” Noah straightened and stepped inside, pushing the door shut behind him. “Where?”

She led him part of the way and then pointed out the room. “There.”

“Stay here.” He disappeared through the doorway, both dogs trotting after him. He finally reappeared, hands held out. “I don’t see anyone.” He checked the other rooms before declaring, “Nope. I don’t see anyone else in the house.”

She released her breath in a rush.

He stopped a few feet away from her, so close the scent of soap teased her nostrils. “What happened?”

With Noah so close, she was aware of how her nightshirt clung to her free breasts and even more aware she’d been having an inappropriate dream about him less than fifteen minutes ago. She crossed her arms, not that he hadn’t already seen her in her pajamas, and shrugged. “I thought someone pulled the sheet off me while I was sleeping. I guess I was dreaming.”

“Maybe.” His forehead creased as he glanced back toward the bedroom. “It could have been one of the pets.”

“No. They were shut out of the room.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m sorry. Did you need something?”

His gaze fell to her chest before flicking back up to meet hers. Heat engulfed her face. Her tank top’s statement “Gamers do it all night” probably seemed a little provocative. Yeah. She really should go put on some more clothes.

“I wanted to ask you about the woman you saw in my house last night.”

“Oh.” She lifted a hand and played with the end of her hair. “What about her?”

“Did you get a good look at her?”

“Why?” She smiled. Was he harboring a criminal or something? Trying to decide whether Spider had seen too much?

Her smile slid off her face. Or he could be one of those crazy men who kidnapped women and kept them chained in the attic. She took a step back.

“This is going to sound strange, but there shouldn’t have been anyone in my house last night. Are you sure you saw someone?” He watched her carefully, drawing her attention to the vibrant green of his eyes, shadowed by dark lines underneath. Even darker hair fell in shaggy waves that framed his face. He had that McDreamy Patrick Dempsey haircut going on. Stubble highlighted a strong jawline and luscious mouth.

He looked hot, but edgy. Kind of dangerous.

Serial killer dangerous? The way her luck was going, probably.

“I could have been mistaken.” But she wasn’t. She remembered everything about the woman she’d seen. Young – college age, probably. Long, dark hair and a pretty face. She’d been wearing a jean jacket over a white shirt. Something Spider wished she was wearing right about now. “Um, do you mind if I go throw some clothes on?”

“Go ahead.”

She glanced at the dogs and wondered how exactly her boss Zach communicated with them – apparently he could, being a pet psychic and all. Costello lifted his beady little eyes towards her, and she tried sending him the thought: Attack him if he follows me. Good boy.

Costello opened his mouth and grinned.

She held up her finger and managed a smile for their guest. “Give me one minute.”

Hurrying into the guest room, she shut the door behind her. Abbott was sprawled on the bed. Wait – she could have sworn the cat had disappeared into the office on the other side of the house.

“How did you get in here?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Safety in numbers. Don’t move.”

She yanked a pair of jeans and a Captain America t-shirt out of her suitcase and tugged them on as fast as she could manage. In case she got kidnapped, her cell phone was turned on for tracking purposes. The small pocket tools her dad insisted she keep with her made their way into her other pocket, just in case. He’d also given her a little stun gun to attach to her keychain—not that she had done it. What the heck had she done with it? No time to search. On the way out, she risked a glance in the mirror and paused. One side of her head boasted a tangled poof while the other looked as though she’d stuck her finger in a socket. Oh, geez. Had she really opened the door to someone with her hair looking like that? She ran a brush through it real quick, scooped the cat up and paced down the hall.

“If he tries anything, claw his eyes out,” she whispered to Abbott, who growled back a response she hoped meant “Consider it done.”

Noah glanced around the house he’d only been inside once, when he came over to introduce himself to his new neighbours, and whistled. For a guy who’d grown up in a trailer park, this sure seemed a nice place for a couple with no kids.

He’d found its previous sale listing online and memorized some of its stats during his initial research into Collins. Single-level updated traditional ranch with a little over three-thousand-square-feet, four bedrooms, three baths, a side-garage, and a sizable fenced backyard. That was on paper. In person, the home seemed even grander with its 10-foot ceilings, open floor plan, modern appliances and warm decor.

He’d been amazed to see a home across the street up for rent at a shockingly affordable price. The Buckhead community of Atlanta was where the wealthy lived, and Noah certainly wasn’t wealthy enough to afford even this neighbourhood, which was on the lower end of the pricey scale. But he’d grasped the opportunity and had considered staying in the two-storey fixer-upper after his assignment was done because he’d gotten such a great deal on it.

But maybe not, considering the crap he’d been dealing with since he moved in and the probable reality that his neighbours were going to hate his guts when they returned home. He picked up a framed photo of Zachary Collins and his bride posing with their wedding party. Their perky house sitter stood in a blue dress beside a smoking-hot blonde and attractive black woman on the other side of Hannah. His gaze skirted over the other women and stopped on the young redhead.

Anything wedding-related always gave him the creeps, but looking at this picture stirred an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. Was it guilt? Or envy? Sleep deprivation must be making him crazier than he’d realized.

“I had that picture framed as a surprise for when they get back,” Emma said, catching him by surprise.

Some of the tension left his shoulders after seeing she’d covered up. She was even more distracting today than he remembered – and he’d remembered a lot. Hell if he knew why, but she’d been on his mind more than seemed reasonable for someone he’d just met. On second thought, her impressive chest pushed against a Captain America shield now. The woman was blessed. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The West men had always had a weakness for well-endowed women.

Feline grumbling came from the black and white cat she held, giving him a good excuse to look at something other than her. The creature eyed him with an unnerving stare. How many animals did Zachary and Hannah Collins own?

“This is Abbott,” she said. “I can’t remember if I introduced you to the dogs, but that chubby little guy is Costello and the one who keeps trying to escape is Charlie.”

He glanced at the stout mutt. “That one is a boy? I thought he was a she.”

“People always think that because he’s so pretty.”

“Are any of them yours?”