If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (4 page)

“That obvious?”

“Small town. I’d have heard the name before if you had been living here long … although the last name is familiar. You’re June King’s grandson?”

“Yeah.” Small towns were strange places. A guy could forever be known as somebody’s son, grandson. This was his particular identifier here—June King’s grandson. Not that he minded. His grandmother had been one hell of a lady and it seemed like just about everybody who had known her had loved her. “Did you know her?”

“Not so much.” Lena shrugged and took a sip of her water. “I’ve only lived here going on nine years and I know her health started to slide the last few years she was alive. I met her a few times, though. She seemed like a wonderful lady.”

“She was.”

“It makes you sad,” she murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“Loss always sucks.” He scooped up some mashed potatoes and took a bite, swallowing despite the knot in his throat. “She was a hell of a cook, too, but I’ll tell you what, I think you could have given her a run for her money. How did you get started doing this—did you always want to?”

“You really want to know?” A smile tugged at her lips.

Something about that smile had him curious. “Yeah.”

“I did it to piss my mom off.”

“Piss your mom off?” he echoed. Baffled, he set his fork down and asked, “Just how in the hell does becoming a chef warrant getting your mom pissed off?”

“Well, being a chef involves things like knives, and hot stoves,” Lena drawled. An amused grin curled her lips, amused … and just a little devilish. “In her eyes, it was a veritable death trap for somebody who couldn’t see. She’s the overprotective type.”

“And your dad?”

Lena sighed, that smile faded from her face. “He’s dead. Died in an accident when I was twelve.” Absently
she reached up, rubbing at her eyes under her tinted lenses. “Dad was always pushing me to do whatever I wanted, whatever I could. Mom was more hesitant, but Dad encouraged her to let me try. After he died, well … she reacted by hovering. Clutching me too close. Those overprotective moms you hear about on TV sometimes? My mom could have given them lessons.”

She turned her face toward his and grimaced. “Not exactly the ideal date discussion we’re having here.”

“Says who?” He bumped his shoulder against hers and said, “I’m enjoying the conversation. Sure as hell beats some of the inane crap I’ve listened to in my life.”

“Inane.” The somber expression on her face slowly faded, replaced by a smile. “Points for using ‘inane,’ Ezra. But let’s try to lighten things up a little. What brings you to Ash?”

Not the way to lighten things up
, he brooded. Trying to keep the edge from his voice, he said, “I lived in Lexington until a few months ago and took some time away from my job. Since Gran left me the house, I decided to come here. Place is getting run-down, needs some work on it, and it’s easier to do if I’m here anyway.”

“To stay?”

“That’s what I’m here to figure out,” he said softly.

There was something in his voice
, Lena thought.

She didn’t know him well enough to entirely put her finger on it, but she could hear the strain. And sitting next to him, she had felt the way he’d gone rigid even though he’d forced himself to relax almost immediately.

But she wasn’t going to pry.

At least, not yet.

Maybe if he asked her out again …

A nice, easy date.

Comfortable, even
, Ezra thought as he followed Lena
through the doors to the verandah that wrapped around the old house. She was easy to talk to, easy to look at it … and when she smiled at him … well, he couldn’t call that easy. It hit him in the chest, in the weirdest damn way.

Like now, for example. She was leaning at the railing, the breeze blowing the dark, gleaming red strands of her hair around her face, the corners of her mouth curving up ever so slightly. As though she had a secret.

Lots of them. Crossing the verandah, he stopped just a foot away from her, studying that secretive, small smile.

It was a Mona Lisa smile, he decided, and now he understood why that smile had captivated millions for centuries. Trying to understand just what it was that had inspired that smile … yeah, he could spend quite some time trying to figure out what Lena’s secrets were.

“I enjoyed dinner,” he said, tucking his hands in his pockets. He needed to keep them occupied before he reached up and brushed that hair back from her face. If he touched her, even in a simple innocent way, he might get a taste for it—want more—and he already knew that wasn’t happening tonight.

He didn’t live for the frustrated lifestyle.

“I’m glad.”

“Although, I’d kind of figured I’d be buying it,” he added.

“You’re an old-fashioned man,” Lena teased, that smile widening ever so slightly.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just terrified my folks might hear about it,” he said, shrugging and trying not to blush.

“A grown man, living in fear of his folks.”

That smile was now an all-out smirk and he was hard-pressed not to lean in and cover her mouth with his. “Hey, you’ve never met my mom. She could inspire fear in hardened criminals.”

“Really?” She cocked her head.

“Yeah.” Shit, that smile … her mouth. It was killing him.

“Oh, to hell with it.” Reaching up, he touched the tip of his finger to her lower lip.

Her mouth opened on a soft gasp and he dipped his head until only a breath separated them. “The second I saw you, I wondered what you’d taste like. If you’d rather me not find out, can you say something?”

Lena blinked. Wow. Her brain had just gone completely blank.

“Umm.”

“Is that a back-off?” he asked.

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

His mouth came down on hers, easy and light, keeping it slow at first. She opened for him and shuddered as he traced his tongue along her lower lip. He tasted like coffee and chocolate cheesecake and man. Delicious. Lifting a hand, she placed it on his cheek. There was the faintest rasp of stubble under her palm, very faint. Curious, she trailed her fingers along his neck, dipped them into his hair, but as curious as she was about how he looked, the curiosity was slowly dying under the heat of hunger.

He could kiss.

Humming under her breath, she moved closer and brought her other hand up, resting it on his hip. Lean hips, she couldn’t help but notice that. And the body she pressed against was also lean, long and lean. Heat started to pulse through her, but that was little surprise. It had already been on a slow burn from the time she’d sat down next to him.

He skimmed a hand down her spine, resting it at the small of her back. She shivered under that touch and when he pressed her closer, tucking her lower body more firmly against his, the shivering got worse. She almost
came out of her skin. Need tightened her belly and she rocked closer, all but ready to ride the hard ridge pressed against her belly.

And she just might have tried to do that—just might have asked him if maybe he’d come back to her place—just might have lost her ever-loving mind.

But a car horn blared, shattering the calm night air, and Lena pulled away, sucking air in desperately.

Her heart. Shit. It was pounding so hard, she thought it just might explode out of her chest.

Swallowing, she licked her lips and then she could have whimpered, begged for mercy, because she could taste him. Taste him, and it made her want to throw herself against him and kiss him. Again, and again … and then stop just long enough to lose all their clothes.

“Looks like he’s looking for you,” Ezra said, his voice hoarse and low.

“Huh? Who?”

“There’s a guy in a white Lexus over there—staring up here—looks like he’s giving me the once-over.”

“It’s Carter,” she said. Taking a deep breath, she blanked her expression and half-turned, waved at Carter. “The owner’s husband. He drives me home after work.”

“Then I guess you need to get going.” He stroked a hand down her arm, then pressed his lips to her brow. “Thanks for having dinner with me.”

“It was my pleasure.” Hesitating, she battled down the self-consciousness and forced herself to smile. “Maybe we can try again.”

“Definitely.”

She gave him her number and in less than two minutes, she was in the car, driving away. She didn’t want to leave, though. Actually, she’d rather have Ezra in the car with her, driving her home.

Maybe next time … or the time after, she told herself.

Except he didn’t call.

Not the next day, or the day after.

Lena thought maybe she’d imagined that heat between them and after a week passed without hearing from him, she gave up hoping she’d hear from him.

It hurt, though. In a way she hadn’t expected.

One lousy date, and he’d wormed his way past thick, near-impenetrable shields.

A year ago, she’d casually dated a guy in town—Remy Jennings. Off and on for a few months. She’d liked him and they’d been compatible in bed, but when they broke it off, it hadn’t been a sharp pain in her heart.

In college, she’d met a guy she’d fallen for—hard and fast—and she’d thought maybe she was falling in love with him, although he’d never once told her he loved her. Not even after they’d been together six months.

Two semiserious relationships. That was the sum of her experience with guys, that and a few casual dates … and somehow, some guy she’d met exactly two times, some guy she’d had one date with, he’d managed to worm his way under her guard.

Unreal.

H
ER PHONE NUMBER WAS STILL SITTING BY THE PHONE
three weeks later. Mocking him.

Ezra didn’t even need that little slip of paper there. He had her number memorized.

He had almost called her a dozen times.

Only to stop himself, because he had come out here to get his head straight and figure what he needed to be doing with himself.

An occasional, casual date wouldn’t interfere with that, right?

But as Lena had pulled away from him after that one intense, hot kiss, Ezra had almost grabbed her back—close. So close. The memory of her taste haunted him, and he could still hear the echo of her laugh.

All in all, it added up to more than just a casual sort of feeling.

His head was too fucked up for anything more than casual. He couldn’t sleep without nightmares. Too many nights, he woke up with a scream trapped in his throat, certain he’d find his hands covered with the hot, slippery feel of blood. He was a mess—the last thing he needed to be doing was getting involved with a woman.

Especially after the last one …

So he didn’t call.

But he wasn’t throwing her number away, either.

Maybe it was more to punish himself.

Maybe it was more to remind himself.

Maybe it was a little bit of both, he didn’t know.

Or maybe it was because he just couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

“So what in the hell does it matter if he hasn’t called?” Lena muttered to herself after she listened to her messages.

She leaned against the counter in her kitchen, drinking from a bottle of water.

Puck was having a drink of his own, thirstily guzzling down the water she’d poured into his bowl. They’d just gotten back from one of their walks through the field. She’d wanted to take the woods path, but Puck hadn’t gone for it.

Lately, he was reluctant, although she could usually talk him into it.

Today, though? He’d sat down and refused to budge.

So instead of walking in the relative shade the trees could offer, they’d been in the field, the September sun beating down on them. She’d returned home hot and cranky and the last thing she needed to do was push the button on her answering machine, hoping to find a message from Ezra.

Nope. Two messages from Roz at the Inn, one from another friend, but none from the man who’d all but kissed her senseless three weeks ago.

Grumbling to herself, she pushed the button again and dutifully listened to Roz’s messages—ordering problems with some of the ingredients she’d needed for that evening’s menu—she’d have to alter it. Fine. Another wedding—the bride had requested a specific menu and Roz needed to run it by her that night at work.