Take Me Under Page 2

  Taking a deep breath, she started to push away from the door when a soft knock sounded on the other side, making her jump. “Hey, you okay in there?” he asked, the husky timbre of his deep voice all but melting her on the spot. The slight Southern twang only cranked the sexy to a dangerous level. Really, the guy should come with a freaking warning or something.

  Reese nodded in response to his question, realized he couldn’t see her, and managed a breathless, “Yeah . . . I’m okay.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you, Reese. I didn’t expect you to be here. I saw your mom yesterday, when the movers were delivering your stuff, and she said you wouldn’t be making it to town until this evening.”

  And so he’d taken it upon himself to spend what was probably his lunch hour breaking into her new home to hang out in her kitchen? This was like some kind of bizarre dream. And since when did Ben chat with her mother?

  Wait a minute . . . He’d talked to her mother? Well, crap.

  A horrible suspicion settled in her gut and her face burned. If her mother had put him up to this—whatever this was—Reese had little doubt she’d find herself headed for hell. A daughter who strangled her mother, even when it was deserved, was sure to burn for all eternity. Given the murderous rage pouring through her system, she’d probably end up so crispy she crackled.

  “Reese?”

  “I’m all right, Ben. I just . . . I need to get dressed,” she forced from a dry throat, hoping he’d get the hint and go away.

  “Okay.” The low rumble easily filtered through the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen. We can talk when you’re ready.”

  She winced, thinking she would rather face off against her ex again than make friendly conversation with this man. Not that she didn’t like Ben. He just flustered the hell out of her. She had no trouble talking to his too-cute-for-his-own-good younger brother, Michael, but when it came to Ben . . . Whew. It was crazy and embarrassing, but the few times she’d been around him in the past, she’d felt like a blushing virgin every time he looked at her. It was something in his eyes, or maybe the shape of his mouth. Something primitive and overwhelmingly sexual that made her breasts ache and her sex clench. Then there was that slow, deep drawl that stroked the surface of her skin, teasing everything womanly in her into a hot, frothing mass of nerves and need.

  Her ex, Drew, had never managed to make her feel that way, even in the early stages of their relationship, when she’d thought they were crazy about each other. And by the end, Drew had merely treated her like a prop to wear on his arm to maintain a good public image, saving his sexual appetite for women he’d said—after she’d discovered him cheating—were not only more satisfying than Reese, but a hell of a lot more fun.

  It’d been a huge blow to her ego. One she was still trying to pick up the pieces from, so that she could put herself back together again. Whenever she thought of the years she’d wasted with Drew Leighton, it made her want to scream . . . and curse . . . and take a baseball bat to his precious BMW. Better to focus on the fact that she’d finally broken away from the miserable jerk, ready to start living on her own terms.

  And a woman living on her own terms doesn’t hide in her own home. Even one on the run from a sicko stalker. So get a freaking backbone!

  Right. So Ben Hudson made her nervous. So what? She’d deal with it, and find out exactly what he was doing in her house.

  Tossing the towel aside, Reese maneuvered her way through the stacks of moving boxes, and grabbed a clean pair of panties and jeans from the duffle bag she’d thrown on the foot of her mattress. She shimmied her legs into the denim, then grabbed a bra and her favorite black tank top. Ripping a brush through her damp hair, she took the time to slick on a little lip-gloss, then forced herself to go back out there. If she spent too much time getting ready, he’d think she was primping for him, and she was already embarrassed enough. No sense in piling more mortification on her shoulders.

  When she came back into the kitchen, Reese found the hunky sheriff placing a carton of milk in the small refrigerator nestled in the far corner of the room. A quick glance at the dark granite countertop showed the plastic bags she’d missed before, and she realized he was putting away groceries. What on earth?

  “I figured you’d be beat from the drive,” he offered in response to her unspoken question, placing another carton of milk in the refrigerator door, “so I stopped by the store and grabbed you a few things.”

  “Did my mother put you up to this?” She crossed her arms over her chest, the defensive stance matching her tone.

  Closing the refrigerator door, Ben turned to look at her. His green eyes narrowed the tiniest bit as he matched her stance, crossing his muscular arms over a wide chest covered in a black polo shirt that sported the local sheriff’s department logo on the upper left side. He leaned back against the counter, focusing on her with an unsettling intensity. One that went all the way down to her bones, making her shiver. She went hot and cold all at once, waiting for him to speak.

  “Put me up to what?” he finally asked, the corner of his mouth twitching, almost as if he was fighting back a smile.

  “Did she, um . . .” Crap. Reese suddenly realized how stupid she’d sound if she accused this man of letting her mother fix them up. He’d no doubt find the idea laughable. If she’d given herself a second to think about it, she’d have realized that he’d probably only brought her the groceries because he thought of her as something like a little sister. Someone he needed to look out for and help get back on her feet.

  There was no way he could know about her stalker problem, because she’d intentionally kept the information from her family. Only a handful of people in Boston and the local police department who’d done the investigation were aware of what she’d been going through. But she had also recently been through a nasty divorce, and she knew Ben had probably heard plenty of gossip about that particular bit of news. Did he think the divorce had left her reeling and broken?

  Aside from having a wicked reputation with women, Reese knew Ben had a thing about taking care of people who needed help. She was just going to have to make it clear to him that she wasn’t one of those people. The idea of him pitying her, or thinking she was a wreck because of Drew, made her cringe.

  With a deep breath, she decided to get the conversation back on track. “Look, I appreciate the groceries, Ben, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but how did you get in? I locked the front door before I jumped in the shower.” And she’d checked it twice, just to be sure.

  “I used the master key.” He gave an easy shrug. “I would have knocked, but like I said before, I didn’t think you were here yet.”

  Her brow scrunched with confusion. “You have a master key to my house?” Weird. Was that some local sheriff thing? He got to carry that wicked-looking gun holstered under his arm, handcuffs, and a set of keys to all the local houses? And how rude would she sound if she demanded he hand over the key that unlocked her door?

  Dragging her gaze away from his chest, where it seemed to have gotten stuck, she found him studying her expression, his dark brows drawn together in a frown. “Uh, yeah. Look, Reese, didn’t your mother tell you?”

  She could sense from his tone that something bad was coming, and a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. “Tell me what?”

  “I’m the landlord your mom signed the lease with. I own this place, as well as the one next door. That’s where I live now. Bought both beach houses last year, after winning the election.”

  She blinked, certain she must have misheard him. “My mother rented this place for me . . . from you?”

  “Yeah. That isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”

  “No,” she lied, her calm tone belying the fact that she was definitely going to commit a deadly sin. Not even her undying love for the woman who had brought her into this world was going to keep her from wringing the lady’s neck.

  What in God’s name had her mother been thinking? Reese had trusted her to find a pretty, peaceful
place she could rent in the idyllic little beach town, while she still had her hands full in Boston, handling her scum-sucking ex and all that other nasty crap that had been crashing down on her. Just a few hours ago, sweet, beautiful, newly remarried Mom had been waiting on the doorstep of the picturesque beach house to greet a tired, travel-weary Reese when she arrived at her new home.

  She’d thought the smile on her mom’s face had been because she was happy to see her middle daughter out from under an unhealthy marriage and getting on with her life. Thought she’d been thrilled to have her living in the same town, close at hand. But no. Now she knew the truth. That happy twinkle in her mom’s big blue eyes had been devious anticipation. All that’d been missing was the diaper and arrow, and the woman would have had the whole Cupid vibe down to a freaking T!

  Damn it, her mother had to have noticed how nervous she got around Ben. It’s not like Reese had been all that great at hiding it. And what had she done? The traitor had gone and rented her a place right next door to him!

  Oh, no, strangulation was too easy. She was going to have to find a way to kill the woman that would be long and painful.

  Reese was contemplating the various possibilities, when she noticed Ben still studying her. Collecting herself as best as she could, she pasted on a smile. A phony one, but she hoped he wouldn’t notice.

  It didn’t work.

  He not only noticed, he called her on it. “You’re a lousy liar, Reese.”

  The bottom of her stomach dropped out. “It’s, um, nothing personal, Ben. I just . . .” Damn it. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t make her sound like an idiot. Even now, her heart was racing with a force that felt like pain.

  Ben had always had this effect on her, which was one of the main reasons she got so nervous around him. She played it safe . . . and he’d always been too dangerous for her tastes. Too . . . everything. Until a year and a half ago, the guy had been a homicide detective in one of the most violent cities in the country. He was a serious badass who didn’t let anything or anyone stand in his way. From what she’d heard, he liked to work hard, play hard, and fuck even harder. Those were Connie’s words, not her own, but she knew they were true.

  She also knew his rough edges would have most women panting after him like adoring little puppies, but they just made Reese feel out of her element. She wasn’t some feisty, sophisticated man-eater who could give Ben a run for his money. Instead, she was an introverted schoolteacher who was just crawling out from under an ugly divorce after what had turned out to be an even uglier marriage. About the only excitement she felt ready to handle these days were some quiet walks on the beach and an overindulgence of chick flicks.

  And if her previously lax sex drive had suddenly decided to revolt on her simply because Ben Hudson had been sweet enough to stock her fridge and bless her with his sexy presence, she could tough it out. She wasn’t going to be driven to idiocy by her glands, for God’s sake. Which meant throwing herself at Ben’s feet and begging for a piece of his seriously fine ass was not going to happen.

  No matter how badly I want it to . . .

  The dangerous thought had her blushing again, and it suddenly occurred to Reese that she’d just been standing there for the past minute or so, eating him up with her eyes . . . imagining what he looked like naked. And he knew. There was a kinda crooked, knowing grin on his lips as he watched her watching him.

  If there’d been a hole in the ground, she’d have dived into it headfirst.

  “I . . . uh . . .” Reese searched for something to say, her gaze darting around the room, but the situation had fried her brain. Or maybe that was just Ben.

  “Where’s your car?” he asked, changing the subject this time, when it became apparent she didn’t have any idea what to talk about. She breathed a small sigh of relief, surprised that he hadn’t pushed her for an explanation about why she wasn’t comfortable with him living so close. Or maybe he just didn’t care. She couldn’t imagine her thoughts and feelings were all that important to a guy like Ben. He probably thought of her in the same way he thought of all the other plain, nice women in town. Women who were friendly acquaintances, but who were never going to make a blip on his sexual radar.

  Trying to convince herself she didn’t particularly want to be a blip on Ben Hudson’s radar—which was a complete and total lie—Reese answered his question about her car. “It broke down about five miles up the road. I had to call and have it towed, but the guy from the garage was nice enough to drop me off.”

  “Dave?”

  She nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Well, if I’d seen your car outside,” he told her, rubbing a hand across his hard jaw, “I sure as hell wouldn’t have just let myself in.”

  “I’m sorry I reacted like that.” She forced herself to hold his gaze and stop fidgeting. “With the screaming and all.”

  “Don’t be. I’m sure I’d scream if I found some strange guy unloading groceries in my kitchen.” The corner of his mouth twitched again. “Especially if I happened to be bare-assed naked at the time.”

  “I wasn’t naked,” she argued with an embarrassed laugh. “I was wearing a towel.”

  “Come on, Reese.” There was a bit of the devil in his glittering gaze. “The least you can do after splitting my eardrums is play along with my fantasy.”

  “About you stumbling upon some strange guy in your kitchen?” she snickered, arching her brows. She was surprised by how easy it was to tease him. And how much fun.

  “Smart-ass,” he shot back, the slow smile on his lips kicking her pulse even higher. Uncrossing his arms, he pushed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, the casual position doing incredible things to his broad shoulders and his muscular bod. She wanted to ask how often he had to work out to look like that. Wanted to ask if the bump on his nose was from a fight or an old sports injury. If he’d always been this gorgeous, or if he’d grown into his rugged good looks as he got older . . .

  She was saved from embarrassing herself when he asked a question of his own. “So, are you happy with the place?”

  She nodded again, leaning her hip against the old-fashioned kitchen sink. “I love it. The hardwood floors and French doors are incredible. The whole house is beautiful.”

  “Good. I had a feeling you’d like it.”

  He had? The few times she’d been around Ben, he’d always been nice to her, but had more or less kept his distance. It seemed strange that he would think he knew her well enough to have any idea of her personal tastes.

  “You seem . . . different,” she murmured, surprised that she’d let that little observation slip out. She was usually better at keeping her thoughts to herself.

  “You mean friendlier?”

  “Um . . .” She hedged, not wanting to be rude.

  “It’s okay. It’s true that I’ve never been all that talkative around you, but only because it put me in a bad mood.”

  She blinked again, wondering what he was talking about. “What put you in a bad mood? Me?”

  He gave a masculine snort and shook his head. “It wasn’t you. It was the fact you were married to that worthless prick and I couldn’t do what I wanted.”

  Baffled, she asked, “And what was that?”

  Her toes curled against the kitchen floor at the sound of his low, husky laugh. “Why don’t you come out to dinner with me tonight and we’ll talk about it then?”

  Reese was embarrassed by the wide-eyed, deer-caught-in-the-headlights look she knew had just crashed over her face. He wanted her to go to dinner with him? She shook her head, thinking she must have heard him wrong. Men like Ben Hudson didn’t date women like her. The conversation didn’t make any sense, unless her mother really had put him up to this.

  She stood up just a little bit straighter and scowled. “Whatever my mother might have told you, Ben, I don’t need a sitter. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled with his look of
confusion. “What are you going on about now?”

  “My mother asked you to take me out, didn’t she?”

  This time, he was the one who blinked. Then he laughed, hard and deep. “You think I’m asking you out because of your mom?”

  Shivering from the way that husky laugh affected her, Reese chewed on the corner of her lower lip. “Well, that’s what this is all about,” she said slowly. “Isn’t it?”

  His grin was boyishly crooked. “I like your mom, Reese. She’s a great lady. But I’m not in the habit of letting her fix me up.”

  “I know you don’t need to be fixed up. I only . . . I mean—” She was definitely floundering here. “You, um, probably agreed just to be nice.”

  His lashes lowered a little as he held her stare. “You really think I’d do that?” he asked, his voice soft. “Ask you out because I felt sorry for you?”

  Wishing she was better at reading him, she managed a brief nod.

  “Well, I hate to break this to you, but I’m actually not that nice a guy.” She heard the unspoken “when it comes to women” easily enough, but didn’t pay it any attention. She knew damn well that Ben would have found it hard to tell her mother no.

  “You’re a lawman,” she stated, as if that was explanation enough. “Being nice to women is part of your job description.”

  “Only I’m not asking you out as the sheriff.” He pushed away from the counter, coming a little closer. “I’m asking you out as a man.”

  “One I happen to know already has plenty of women waiting to go out with him.”

  He frowned, but he didn’t deny it. Ben might be a lot of things, but at least he wasn’t a liar like Drew. Instead, he simply said, “You’re the one I want to have dinner with. And it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with your mother.”