Читать книгу Deadly Obsession - Elle James - Страница 13

Chapter 3

Anger forced back the last vestiges of the fuzzy gray mist that had clouded Jillian’s head when Chance had found her lying on the basement floor. “Don’t you have a bachelor party to plan?”

“I’m told you have everything to do with the wedding completely planned.”

“I do.”

“Good, because I came to help. Now stop being stubborn.”

“I might be stubborn, but you are a jerk.” She stepped through the open front door and marched down the steps. On the last one, the rotted board gave way. She pitched forward and would have landed on her face had Chance not been right behind her and caught her, pulling her back against his front. He wrapped his arms around her middle and held on.

Her pulse pounding, Jillian inhaled a long, steadying breath. Then she pried the arms from around her. “Thank you,” she said grudgingly. “But I still don’t need your help.”

“Maybe you don’t, but I’m not leaving without you. So while I’m here, you might as well let me help you carry that couch.”

She’d had two high school boys help her load the couch from her apartment into the trailer. The best she could do by herself would be to scoot it to the edge of the trailer and dump in on the ground. Alone, she’d never get it up the porch stairs and into the house. Even with a hand truck, she wouldn’t be able to get it through the door. God, she hated letting Chance help. After he’d called her stubborn and said those awful things about her house, she really disliked the man.

“Okay. But just the couch,” she muttered.

Together, they lifted the couch out of the trailer and carried it up the porch steps.

Jillian lost her grip twice on the heavy piece of furniture and had to stop. By the time they had it in the house, her back hurt. When they finally got it to the back of the house, Jillian was questioning the couch’s very existence. Why hadn’t she sold it in a yard sale rather than move it?

With the couch shoved up against a wall in the room at the back of the house Jillian had designated to store all her boxes and furniture, she straightened, pressing a hand to the small of her aching back.

Chance stared across the sofa at her. “Why were you in the basement?”

Jillian closed her eyes, trying to remember why she’d gone down there in the first place. When it came to her, she opened her eyes wide. “I heard a kitten.” She spun on her heels and hurried to the kitchen.

“No way.” Chance caught up with her before she reached the basement door. “You’re not going down there.”

“But I heard a kitten. It might have been separated from its mother. I couldn’t leave it down there.”

“Then let me look for it.” Chance stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “You don’t need to fall down the stairs a second time.”

“I didn’t fall,” she insisted.

“Okay, so you didn’t fall. You were just taking a nap on the floor when I found you.”

Jillian hiked her brows. “The kitten?”

“Promise you’ll stay put?”

She glared at him.

He didn’t budge.

At that moment, the animal’s cries sounded from the darkness.

“Okay,” Jillian said. “I promise to stay here. Now, will you go?”

He grinned for the first time since they’d met. The expression lightened his face and made her heart flutter. When he wasn’t scowling, Chance was an incredibly attractive man.

She shook herself, pushing back that errant thought.

When he turned toward the stairs, her breath caught and she blurted, “Wait.”

“Why?”

Jillian didn’t answer. She spun and raced out the front door, dived into the passenger side of Dave’s truck and retrieved the flashlight she’d seen on the rear floorboard. Back into the house she skidded to a stop in front of Chance, breathing hard.

“Here.” She grabbed his hand and slapped the flashlight into his open palm.

“Thank you.” He closed his fingers around the light and squeezed her hand. Then he disappeared into the basement’s shadows, the beam of the flashlight marking his course.

Jillian stood at the top of the stairs, her throat tight, her breathing ragged.

She found herself praying he would hurry. “You sure you don’t want me to help?”

“You promised to stay up there.”

“Yeah, but two could find the kitten faster.”

“And if a ghost locks the door again, who would rescue the both of us?”

Jillian bit down on her retort. “There are no such things as ghosts.”

“Then explain the hook,” Chance’s disembodied voice said from the darkness.

She couldn’t, so she remained quiet in the kitchen, throwing a glance over her shoulder every so often as chills rippled down her spine. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but she couldn’t help feeling she was being watched.

A miniature, snarling whine echoed off the walls below.

“Come here, you little poltergeist,” Chance muttered.

More spats from the kitten were followed by a hearty curse.

“Damn it!”

A minute later, a light shone at the bottom of the stairs. Chance started up with a bundle of rags in one hand, the flashlight in the other. “I found one of your ghosts.”

Jillian reached for the wriggling wad of cloth.

“Careful,” Chance said. “He’s got some sharp claws.”

A small gray head poked out of the fabric and big blue eyes shone up at her.

Jillian gathered the cloth-wrapped kitten in her hands and carried him into the evening light streaming in through the dirty back window. Once she unwrapped the feline, she could see the animal was scrawny, underweight and malnourished. “Ah, poor baby. Where’s your mama?”

“Poor baby?” Chance snorted. “He nearly scratched my eyes out. Just like a cat. Try to help one, and what do you get? Mauled.”

Jillian rolled her eyes in his direction. “Really?” His laughing eyes made her heartbeat stutter. Then she saw the line of red across his cheek. “Oh, dear, he did get you good.” The kitten curled into Jillian’s hands. “Come out to the truck. I have a fresh bottle of water, and I know where to find my box of towels.”

“Point me in the right direction. I’m not sure I trust either one of you at this point.” He led the way through the house and held the door for her as she carried the kitten through.

“I gave you the option of leaving,” she reminded him.

He shook his head. “Not an option. Too dangerous for a lone woman.”

Her shoulders stiffened. “I’m going to live here eventually.” She deposited the kitten, rags and all, on the front seat of Dave’s truck and retrieved the bottle of water in the console. “By myself.” When she straightened, she was startled by how close Chance stood. She froze, her breath hitching in her lungs.

Chance took the bottle but didn’t move away, effectively trapping her between the truck door and his body. “Preferably after you’ve had good dead-bolt locks and a security system installed.”

“Ha.” Jillian swallowed hard and lifted her chin. “My money might last through new dead-bolt locks, but if the choice comes between running water and a security system, I’d prefer to bathe indoors, thank you very much.”

Chance’s gaze captured hers for a long moment, and then the corners of his lips quirked upward. “Despite being a pain in the butt, you’re kind of cute when you’re passionate about your water.” He chucked her beneath her chin like a kid sister and stepped back.

Jillian dragged in a steadying breath and closed the truck door to keep the kitten inside. She rounded to the other side and closed the driver’s side, glad for a few seconds to gather her scattered wits. By the time she met Chance at the back of the open trailer, she was well in control. Jillian refused to let the arrogant man get under her skin again. Whether it was his high-handedness or when he softened and called her cute, she couldn’t afford to let him shift her focus from all that had to be done.

Yet his mere presence with his broad shoulders and ruggedly handsome face made it hard for her to concentrate. What had she been doing?

Chance held up the water bottle. “If you’ll point to the box, I’ll find a towel.”

She turned away from his laughing gaze as heat filled her cheeks. Damn the man. Jillian studied the neatly stacked boxes containing all of her worldly goods, some of them items her mother had treasured. “There.” She pointed to a box. “The one marked Bathroom Towels.” When she backed away, she bumped into Chance and almost tripped over his feet.

He gripped her arm and steadied her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor. You could have suffered a concussion in your fall down the stairs.”

“I didn’t fall down the stairs.” She pressed to his chest, trying to establish her balance. “I must have passed out.”

“All the more reason to see the doctor.”

“I don’t have time to visit a doctor, and I feel just fine.” If fine was finding it hard to breathe with the man standing so near. She tipped her head toward the truck. “Could you get the box down?”

He held her a moment longer and she didn’t breathe until he finally let go. “Hang on to this.” He handed her the water bottle and climbed into the trailer, found the box and carried it to the porch.

Jillian stood back, wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

Chance pulled a fancy knife from his pocket, unfolded a blade and slit through the tape securing the box. Inside was a stack of freshly laundered towels.

Pulling herself together, Jillian hurried forward, selected a cloth and opened the bottled water.

Chance held out his hand. “I can take care of it myself.”

“No, let me. I made you go back in after the kitten.”

“Yeah, but I would have gone in whether you asked me to or not.”

She wet the cloth and capped the bottle, setting it to the side. Now she had to touch the man who’d stirred up so many emotions since finding her in the basement. The smart thing to do would be to hand him the cloth and let him take care of his own injury. But now that she’d insisted, she had to follow through. If she treated him like a client injured on a tour of one of her home listings, she shouldn’t have a problem. Squaring her shoulders, she set her jaw and commanded, “Sit.”

* * *

Chance responded to the command in her voice, though he almost laughed out loud at the play of emotions crossing Jillian’s face. “Yes, ma’am.” He dropped down onto a porch step.

Jillian settled on one riser higher and touched the damp cloth to his cheek. “This might hurt a little,” she said, leaning close.

“I’ve had worse injuries in the war.” More than he could count. As an army ranger, scrapes, broken bones, concussions, shrapnel and gunshot wounds were expected.

As she moved nearer, the scent of herbal shampoo filled his nostrils and made him want to pull Jillian into his lap to explore further.

“That’s right. You’re Nova’s friend from the military.”

He dipped his head.

“Do you work with the same organization Nova works with now?” Jillian cupped the back of his head and gently dabbed at the kitten’s mark.

With her hand tickling the nape of his neck and her breast pressing into his arm, Chance could barely breathe. “I do.”

“What exactly is it you do?” She rinsed the cloth with more water and squeezed out the excess moisture.

“Whatever is needed,” Chance responded, his voice tight, desire pressing hard against the fly of his jeans. Thankfully, he didn’t have to go into detail about his job. Much of what he did with Stealth Operations Specialists was classified and only those with a need to know were given the details of any operation.

Her lips twisted. “Let me guess, if you tell me what you do—”

“I’d have to kill you.” He captured her wrist in his hand. “I think you’ve done enough. We should finish the work and get back to the B and B.”

Jillian stared into his eyes.

A few short inches separated them, but all Chance could think about was her pretty pink mouth and what she might taste like if he dared kiss her.

Jillian ran her tongue around those pink lips, sending Chance’s control flying.

“Do you realize how crazy you’re making me?”

She shook her head, her eyes rounding. Her gaze shifted to his mouth.

Like a moth drawn to the flame, Chance couldn’t resist the temptation. He slipped his hand beneath her hair at the back of her head and dragged her forward until their lips almost touched. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he breathed, praying she wouldn’t when the temptation to kiss her threatened to overwhelm him.

Jillian closed the distance between them, her lips brushing his. They were so soft, full and luscious. Chance increased the pressure on the back of her neck and claimed her mouth, tonguing the seam of her lips until she opened to him.

He swept in, caressing her tongue in a long, slow glide. She tasted of mint and chocolate—sweet, decadent and undeniably irresistible.

Jillian dropped the cloth on the step beside him and ran her hand up the front of his chest, linking it with the other behind his neck. She pressed her breasts against him, stirring an ever-deepening hunger inside.

Chance pulled her across his lap without breaking the kiss, drowning in the touch, taste and feel of her body pressed to his.

A loud crash sounded inside the house, bursting through the cocoon of lust surrounding them.

Chance ducked, his pulse leaped, and he would have flattened himself to the ground, but with Jillian across his lap, that wasn’t an option.

Jillian squealed and pushed to her feet.

Chance rose as well, his attention on the house.

“Stay here,” he said.

“Staying,” she agreed.

His heart hammering from his close encounter with Jillian, Chance ran into the house. With a quick sweep of the rooms on the first floor, Chance located the source of the sound. A four-by-eight-foot sheet of drywall lay on the floor of the living room, having fallen from the stack leaning against the wall.

Chance lifted it and leaned it with the others. When he’d passed the stack before, the individual sheets had seemed to be leaning at an angle so they wouldn’t easily fall. A gust of wind would not have been enough to push over one of the heavy drywall sheets. He glanced around, his gaze going to the dusty wooden floor.

There were several sets of footprints overlaying each other from where he, Jillian and the workers had all passed. Was there someone else in the house? Someone who could have slipped the hook in the loop on the cellar door and knocked one of the drywall sheets to the ground? Chance didn’t like it. Something didn’t feel right in his gut. And his gut was seldom wrong.

He walked back out to the porch, where Jillian stood, her hair rumpled and her lips swollen from their kiss.

“Find anything?”

“A sheet of drywall fell over.” He didn’t go any deeper. He could be wrong. “I set it upright.”

She clapped her hands together. “In that case, let’s get going.”

“Right. This stuff isn’t moving itself. And we need to get back to the McGregor B and B.”

Jillian smiled. “Exactly. If we’re late, Molly will send her brother, a member of the Cape Churn Police Department, to check on us.”

Chance got to work. He wanted to get done and get back before dark—and before something else happened in Jillian’s haunted house.