Whisper Falls (3 page)

Although as she pushed through the door, she realized, to her shock, that it felt a little weird for Mr. Knightley not to be there. She still thought he was the most spoiled brat cat she’d ever met, but maybe there had been something vaguely comforting about seeing him lying across the back of her sofa when she walked into the room, or licking his little white paw and raking it across his little cat face.

On the other hand, though, it was nice not to have to worry about him making more rebellious runaway attempts, and who liked changing kitty litter anyway? She loved her peace and quiet and was ready to bask in it. And hopefully her neighbor on the hill wouldn’t have any loud visitors this afternoon to mess that up.

As Tessa moved about the house, tidying up a bit, she reflected further on her friends’ fears but decided they were probably overreacting. Amy was a natural worrywart, clearly forgetting that Tessa had resided comfortably on her own in Cincinnati for ten years, first earning a degree from the University of Cincinnati, then getting a good job in her chosen field. And Rachel—still used to city life—claimed Tessa lived in the middle of nowhere, but her cabin was only a fifteen-minute drive from town. Ever since Rachel had hooked up with Mike—who was a cop—she’d started becoming more cautious. She was still bold, wild Rachel in some ways, but spending so much time with an officer of the law was definitely making her more guarded.

Glancing out the window over her kitchen sink, she peeked up toward the house above hers. All remained still, but it brought to mind more questions about Lucky Romo. She hadn’t seen him coming or going very much, so what did he do up there all day? His shirt had said he had some kind of motorcycle-related business, but where
was
this business? Surely nowhere nearby or the Romos would have known his whereabouts long before now. So what had happened to the business? Had it failed and somehow brought him home? Yet, if so, how had he afforded the small ranch house?

Then a totally alarming thought struck her for the first time: Did he have a woman up there who she also hadn’t seen? Did they stay inside so much because they were busy having lots of sex? Could Lucky actually be
married
?

Okay
,
your imagination is getting the best of you. Stop thinking. Relax and enjoy your afternoon.
And, seriously, what did she care if he had a biker babe? It’s not like
she
and Lucky Romo would ever fit together in any way.

Although—yikes—that thought made the idea of a biker babe a little daunting. What if Lucky’s old lady—since that’s what bikers called their women, right?—thought he’d flirted with Tessa and decided to beat her up for it?

Stop. Thinking. Already.

On one hand, Tessa felt a little lazy to be embarking on an afternoon of sun-worshipping, but on the other, her crazy thoughts proved she
needed
some R and R, right? It was important to take care of herself, both mentally and physically. And sure, she also needed to figure out how she was going to make a living, since apparently no one in rural Ohio needed an interior decorator—but maybe basking in the sun would allow her to . . . be inspired.

Still, as she padded down the hall to her bedroom and began to change into her bikini, more questions arose. Could Lucky Romo see her deck from his house? And if so, was it prudent to put that much of her body on display in front of him? Or in front of his surely-territorial-if-she-existed girlfriend?

But then she shook it off. She wasn’t going to let her brawny new neighbor influence her activities. She
loved
the sun. She’d waited
all winter
for the sun. And she’d bought the house partially because of the deck. Besides, he was seldom outside. And if he
did
have a girl up in that house, she’d have to get over it. People wore bathing suits to pools and beaches all over the world—and he’d already seen more of her breasts than the bikini showed anyway. So she was sunbathing, damn it.

Thus she proceeded into her swimsuit—and a few minutes later exited onto the deck with towel, book, and sunscreen in hand, immediately glad she had. Pots of colorful spring pansies situated around the deck brightened her mood as the sweet scent of fresh-blooming hyacinth wafted up from beside her front walk. And as she settled into her lounge chair, the sun’s rays felt like heaven. As minutes began to pass . . . it was almost as if those rays somehow radiated through her, into her, warming her inside and out. Ah . . .

Why did the sun always make her feel . . . sensual somehow? Maybe because of the sensation that its warmth actually
touched
her skin? Or because she always felt a little prettier, sexier, with a tan? Or . . . was that feeling hitting her
now
only because big, bad Lucky Romo had called her “hot stuff” yesterday? And maybe it had been the first time in ages that she’d felt . . . remotely hot. Or even lukewarm.

She bit her lip, remembering how it felt to be . . . sexual. The sad truth was that she hadn’t had sex in over four years. At first, because of her health. And even in the three years since she’d moved home to Destiny, there had still been enough bad days to keep her off balance—and though she’d dated a little in that time, she’d had no more than a goodnight kiss or two at the door. She yearned for that connection with a guy, but it had become a hope that felt very distant, almost unattainable—because it was hard to be sick and broke and sexy all at the same time.

So even if nothing much had suddenly changed here . . . maybe it had. Maybe it was huge that in this moment she finally felt sexy again. Even just lying in the sun by herself. She felt sexually aware and sexually alive, and maybe thanks to Lucky Romo, she felt . . . a little bit desirable.

That’s when she blinked and caught sight of him. Up the hill, on his own deck. Watching her. The mere glimpse of him, peering down at her, stole her breath.

She never let on that she noticed him. For some reason, she instantly wanted him to think he was stealing a secret, forbidden peek at her. Did he like her body? Did he want to . . . do things to her? It was almost difficult to breathe under the weight of the unbidden questions suddenly invading her mind, the thick sensuality rapidly filling the air around her.

Despite herself, her breasts ached. Her limbs felt heavy. She stretched out on the chair, one knee bent, arms stretched overhead, attempting to exude the natural, carefree sensuality she felt coursing through her veins right now. Oh God, it was good to feel this . . . normal, this vibrant and alive. It was as if the sun pumped life and health and energy into her flesh. Or was it just Lucky Romo’s eyes doing that? She bit her lip, pondering.

Another casual glimpse upward a few minutes later revealed that her new neighbor still sat on his deck, peering unabashedly down through the tree limbs that hung in the space between them. Looked like he held a beer can in his hand. He wore some sort of dark bandana-type thing around his head, long hair falling from the back. Today’s T-shirt had the sleeves ripped out, making his tattoos all the more noticeable, even from a distance.

He was still as intimidating as hell. Yet her skin tingled.

Following instincts now, Tessa reached behind her to lower the back of her chair, laying it flat. Then she turned over onto her stomach, letting the sun warm her back. Mmm, it felt good. Almost as good as those surreptitious glances from the house on the hill.

Then she thought about her favorite sundress—with a halter tie and low-cut back. Tan lines didn’t look good with it. Maybe she should untie her top.

Of course, she couldn’t lie to herself. She didn’t want to untie the top just because of tan lines. She wanted to untie it . . . for Lucky Romo. The last guy on earth she ever could have imagined wanting to bare skin for.

God. Was this . . . dangerous? Was it asking for trouble?

She didn’t know, but in that strange, heavy moment, she almost didn’t care. All she knew was that she suddenly felt sexy and beautiful again. Out of nowhere. And she’d spent so much time in recent years feeling just the opposite. There were so many everyday joys she could no longer take part in, experience—but she could experience
this
,
now
. The simple act of being a sensual human being. The simple act of feeling alive, vibrant.

And if she’d learned anything since coming home to Destiny, it was not to squander good moments or take them for granted. Whether it was laughter with her friends or devouring a good book or soaking up the sun, the good moments had to be grabbed, luxuriated in. And despite her better judgment, she had to grab this one, too.

So, giving her lower lip a sensual little bite, she reached back with both hands, untying the top, then let the fabric drop casually to her sides. And somehow she felt all the more alive for having done it.

I am no bird; and no net ensnares me;

I am a free human being with an independent will.

Charlotte Brontë,
Jane Eyre

Two

L
ucky remembered her from high school—pretty, petite Tessa Sheridan. She’d hung with the popular girls, but she’d seemed more . . . mature than them or something. She hadn’t bothered with being a cheerleader—instead she’d been involved in clubs and other academic stuff.

He wasn’t sure why he even remembered that—especially given that he’d spent a lot of time trying to forget those years. Hell, more than just
those
years. If he could, he’d blot out most of his life before he’d turned twenty-five. And it wasn’t that the last nine had been so great—only that they’d been better than the rest.

He’d recognized her immediately yesterday—but having already seen the sign over her mailbox had helped. His first reaction: surprise, that someone like her was still in this two-bit town—she’d seemed cut out for bigger things.

His second—that the slender girl with silky, long, light brown hair bordered somewhere between silly and witty, and that even though he didn’t usually mind making people nervous, for some reason, he hadn’t liked making
her
nervous.

And his third observation? That her breasts were gorgeous. Smallish but firm and pert. And now he could see that the rest of her body was just as nice. He focused on her back at the moment. And the sides of her boobs, which she’d just put on display by untying her top.

He should probably feel like a jerk for watching, but he didn’t. He’d been innocently taking a break on his new deck when the movement from below had caught his eye. The fact that it had come from a pretty girl in a skimpy bikini wasn’t his fault and he saw no reason not to enjoy it. Although he suddenly found himself wishing his deck sat a little closer to hers—he suffered a light yearning to see the sides of those breasts better, closer. He was a guy, after all.

Of course, it was high time he got back to work. There was a disassembled Harley Wide Glide in his garage right now waiting for his attention—he’d put the second base coat on yesterday, following with some clear coat, and was now ready to start airbrushing some purple flames. He’d do the gas tank first—he always liked starting with the bigger job—then proceed to the fenders. Already, his buddy Duke had sent him a number of customers—he’d have to thank him with a free custom job on the old Harley Panhead Duke had just bought, once it was rebuilt.

Well, that was at least
one
consolation about coming back to this area—Duke had relocated here years ago, over in Crestview, and it would be good to see his friend on a regular basis again. And the fact that Duke owned the only biker bar in the vicinity didn’t hurt—besides helping Lucky get to know other riders, it was a good way to spread the word about his business, and he knew it wouldn’t be difficult to rebuild it here. Taking into account the big motorcycle rally about an hour away in Chillicothe each Labor Day, the region had a healthy biker population. And he could do his work anywhere and was good enough at it that bikers wouldn’t mind driving out into the country for it.

Taking another swig from the Bud Light can in his fist, he shifted slightly in his chair—a breeze had blown some sprouting branches into his line of vision and he found he wanted to see more of his sexy little neighbor’s ass in the hot pink bikini she wore. She remained on her stomach, top undone, and now read a book.

It was still hard for Lucky to believe he was back here, but he had a good reason—about the only thing he could fathom that would bring him home.

Destiny
. He sighed. For him it was . . . a place of nightmares. The only thing that made it any better was perhaps the fact that he’d found even
worse
nightmares after leaving.

Loathe to make his home here again, he’d actually looked for a house elsewhere in the area—in Crestview and beyond—but this had been the only one he’d found in the right price range with a garage big enough to accommodate his paint shop.

It located him too close to his family, though, and . . . hell, that part of the Destiny equation was a problem. He had no intention of calling them up—he’d worked hard to get over the things that had made him leave home, but he still didn’t particularly figure they’d want to hear from him. Of course, they’d probably learn he was back eventually . . . and while he wasn’t sure what to expect from that, he didn’t look forward to finding out.

He just planned to keep to himself here for as long as he could, painting bikes and getting the house fixed up the way it should be. After that, it was only a matter of waiting until Sharon decided he was dependable—and then he’d have one
more
big change in his life, the biggest of all, the reason he’d come back.

He gave his head a quick shake and let out a breath. He wasn’t sure he was
ready
for that change, but he had to be. He’d never considered himself much of a stand-up guy, but for this, he had no choice—he
had
to stand up, he
had
to get ready.

He could still remember the moment Duke had called and told him. Something inside him had transformed—in a split second, something had come to life that he hadn’t even realized was there. He’d known immediately that he would close his well-established Milwaukee paint shop and head home to Ohio. He’d shown up on Duke’s doorstep in Crestview around a month later, his Harley Deuce and painting supplies in tow.

Draining his beer, he crushed the can in his fist and stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the wood as he pushed it back from the rail. The noise made Tessa Sheridan flinch, raise slightly—then apparently remember her top wasn’t tied, so she hugged it against herself. She looked upward toward the sound, toward him. And even over the distance that separated them, their eyes met. And something low in Lucky’s gut caught fire.

“How’s it goin’, hot stuff?” he called down through the trees. He didn’t smile, though—cute or not, he wasn’t planning on getting chummy with her.

Then why the hell do you keep calling her “hot stuff”?
He quickly decided it was an animal thing—he’d never been able to hold in flirtation with a woman he found attractive. But usually he was drawn to girls he had more in common with. And he knew what good, upstanding people like Tessa Sheridan thought of guys like him. Even if they didn’t know everything about him. Hell, maybe some of the shit in his past shone in his eyes or something.

“Um . . . fine.” She sounded nervous again. And hell, could he really blame her? Once upon a time, he’d have been nervous having a neighbor like him, too. Or maybe it had to do with him seeing her in that untied bikini—maybe it made her even
more
uncomfortable. And he couldn’t deny that the bulge in his blue jeans was a little heftier than it had been twenty minutes ago.

With that, he dropped the can in the garbage bin on his back porch, then headed back to the garage. While he could easily enjoy looking at his neighbor’s ass all afternoon, he had work to do, a business to rebuild.

And still, as he walked away, he let out a sigh—one definitely tinged with arousal.
Thanks for making the view from my deck a little nicer
,
babe.

“I
’ve been thinking about skydiving.” Tessa stood behind the counter at Under the Covers, watering the plants Amy kept on the windowsill.

“Thinking
what
about it?” Amy asked from where she sat on the floor unpacking a carton of books.

“About doing it,” Tessa said. “What do you think?”

Amy just blinked up at her. “Um—that you’re out of your mind? You don’t even like climbing the ladders to reach the high shelves.”

It was true—the bookstore possessed a few of the old-fashioned ladders reminiscent of antique libraries and though Tessa admired their aesthetics, she’d never been a fan of actually
using
them. But her sudden urge to throw her body out of an airplane wasn’t about anything like . . . practicality. “I just feel . . . like life is passing me by.”

“Well,
this
is sudden,” Amy mused, clearly taken aback.

“Kind of,” Tessa agreed. And she supposed it had started with Lucky Romo watching her sunbathe yesterday and making her feel so . . . aware. Of herself. Of possibilities. Then she’d seen someone skydiving on TV last night and she’d thought,
Wow
,
that’s somebody who’s really living their life
,
grabbing it by the horns.
“But not really. For the past few years, I’ve missed out on a lot, and I’ve . . . lost a lot.” The sense of defeat she’d suffered upon leaving her job and moving home still stung. Every day. She’d
accepted
it, but she’d not gotten
over
it. “And I’ve just realized that when I’m feeling good, I need to get out there and . . . just
do
something.” Even though she’d had less flare-ups the last year or so, the unpredictability remained daunting, and she wanted very badly to overcome that worry.

“Skydiving is pretty extreme,” Amy said. “If you want to do something, how about feeding Brontë?”

Tessa glanced at the black-and-white cat who’d just peeked cautiously around the corner of a bookshelf. They’d just gotten rid of
one
stray—Shakespeare, who Rachel and Mike had adopted—when another had shown up. Amy had started feeding it at the back door, and then winter had come and the cat had turned into a resident. After Amy had found the kitty draped over an old copy of
Jane Eyre
one day, she’d started calling her Brontë. “That’s a lot less excitement than I was going for,” Tessa informed Amy dryly.

After putting some Meow Mix in the little bowl Amy kept behind the counter, Tessa moistened it with a splash from the bottled water she was currently drinking, then lowered it to the floor. “Come here, kitty,” she said softly, stooping down, but Brontë just stared at her with big, distrusting, blue marble eyes. The cat was lanky, thin—and pretty skittish. When Tessa reached gently toward her, Brontë pulled back nervously—but at least she didn’t run away, which was an improvement. “Time for lunch,” she said softly, jiggling the bowl. “Mmm, yummy.”

As the cat stood frozen in place, crouched down as if hiding, Tessa murmured, “What have you been through, cat?” But then she shook her head. “Never mind—I probably don’t want to know.”

“If you just leave it, she’ll eat it,” Amy said.

“I know. I just . . . want to put her at ease, show her she can trust somebody.”

Amy looked over, surprised. “Since when are you all touchy feely with cats?” It wasn’t that Tessa disliked cats, but she’d never felt strongly about them one way or the other. She’d been raised in more of a dog-loving family.

Now she just shrugged. “I don’t like seeing
anything
be scared when it doesn’t have to be.”

“Speaking of being scared,” Amy said, rising to her feet with an empty box in hand, “any more Lucky Romo sightings?”

Tessa’s skin prickled as she stood back up, too, but she tried to act cool. “He was out on his deck yesterday.”

“What was he doing?”

Watching me sunbathe.
“Nothing.” She fiddled with a small jar of ink pens on the counter.

“Did he talk to you?”

“Um, kind of. He sort of said hello.”
I think he might have flirted with me again.
But Amy didn’t need to know any of the stuff she wasn’t saying. Besides not wanting to worry her friend, Tessa couldn’t really explain or justify the fact that she
liked
him flirting with her. Or that she’d continued lying there scantily clad even knowing he was looking. She could scarcely explain that to
herself
at moments.

And it wasn’t that she was any less wary of him or his past—it was, again, simply that he’d made her feel more attractive and
alive
than anything had in a long time. So, while it would have been a lot more handy if he were Johnny Depp or Colin Farrell, he wasn’t, and she had to play the cards she’d been dealt, right?

Not that she planned to
play
with Lucky Romo at all. The very thought of getting any more up close and personal with him than she already had made her heart rise to her throat. He was an unknown quantity and what she
did
know about him was undoubtedly troublesome. But if he wanted to admire her from afar with his eyes—well,
that
thought, on the other hand, only made her feel good and kind of warm inside.

Just then, the bell above the door jingled and Tessa’s mother entered the store wearing a casual skirt and blazer, her gray frosted hair looking stylish in its short cut. She must be on her lunch break—she did part-time administrative work for the City of Destiny, and the offices were located just across the square, behind the police department.

“Mom—hi,” she said with a smile.

Her mother flashed a grin. “Well,
you
must be feeling good.”

Tessa blinked. “I must? I mean, actually, I am, but . . .”

“I just don’t think I’ve seen you glowing so much, looking so vibrant, in a long time,” her mom replied, clearly enthused.

Hmm, she
glowed
? And looked
vibrant
? Apparently her new neighbor possessed skills even greater than she’d realized. “Have you
ever
seen me seriously
glowing
, Mom?” she had to ask.

Her mother laughed softly. “I just mean you have some color in your cheeks. You look healthy.”

Tessa simply bit her lip. Was it possible Lucky Romo had actually restored some of her health through the mere acts of ogling her and flirting with her? It sounded silly, yet . . . like it or not, maybe a big, burly biker neighbor with darkly arresting eyes had been just what the doctor ordered.

A
fter getting off work at the bookstore late that afternoon, Tessa came home, turned on the radio, changed into jeans and a tank—with a bra this time!—and stepped out onto the deck. The sun was sinking fast, so despite the gorgeous weather, it would turn chilly soon, and she wanted to plant some seeds in a few terra-cotta pots before it did.