Rhonda Nelson – The Survivor (страница 5)

He opened the car door and clipped a leash to the dog, a blond mutt of questionable origins, but pretty all the same, and the animal leaped down onto the pavement. He scoped both ends of the sidewalk before studying the storefront and she watched his lips—that sinfully carnal mouth—twist with something akin to humor, but not as kind. A pinprick of disappointment nicked her heart, but she shrugged it off. Just because he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life didn’t mean he was going to be any different from the rest.

Sad, that, she thought, because her reaction to him had certainly been different from previous reactions to any man she’d ever seen in print, in person or in film.

She got the impression that he’d taken one look at her business, gotten her measure and had already—even though he hadn’t met her yet—found her lacking.

The bell over the door tinkled as he walked in and he went immediately to the counter, stuck out his hand and introduced himself. He’d removed the sunglasses along the way, but to her irritation, she couldn’t get a good look at his eyes. “Lex Sanborn, Ms. Cantrell,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Elsie, who was hardly what one would call a wall-flower, smiled brightly at him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” she said, lowering her voice to a husky purr à la Lana Turner.

Bess smothered a snort and then had to cover her hand with her mouth when she caught Lex’s temporarily transfixed expression. Evidently he was picturing going on the road with a lusty senior citizen intent on making him her boy toy. After the look he’d given her shop, he could just keep that image, Bess thought, and stayed out of view.

He tried to withdraw his hand, but Elsie clung firm. She had closed her eyes, evidently going into one of her psychic trances. She murmured a nonsensical noise and gave a delicate shudder. “You came very close, didn’t you?” she said.

Lex gave an uneasy laugh. “I’m sorry?”

Elsie patted the top of his hand and, when she opened her eyes, her expression was strangely warm and sad. “But it wasn’t your time.”

Some of the color leached from his face and the dog nuzzled his leg as though picking up on a shift in its master’s mood. “Er…if you’re ready, we should probably get going.”

Bess frowned, puzzled over his reaction, and shot a look at Elsie, who seemed to have wilted against the stool behind the counter. The older woman very rarely looked her age—on purpose—but at the moment she seemed every one of her seventy-five years. What had happened? Bess wondered.

Elsie finally seemed to snap out of whatever had a hold of her. “Go? Go where?”

Lex smiled uncertainly. “After the man who has stolen your hard drive and is harassing your customers,” he reminded her, and it was obvious he thought she was a touch senile.

Elsie chuckled. “Oh, I’m not going,” she told him, as if he were the one who was confused.

He blinked. “You’re not?”

“No, Bess is,” she explained.

He gave his head a shake. “You’re not Bess?”

Elsie positively cackled with laughter. “Goodness, no,” she said. “But I wouldn’t mind being her for a few days,” she confided with a wink and, though Elsie’s comment was wasted on Lex, Bess knew it was in reference to her youth. Elsie often accused her of “squandering” it with old junk, cable internet and reality television, which was hardly fair when she’d caught Elsie watching Real Housewives, as well.

Elsie looked past Lex’s shoulder and he instinctively turned around.

“I’m Bess,” she said, coming forward. His gaze slammed into hers and, though she knew it was impossible, she practically floated the rest of the way across the room, tugged inexplicably by the pull of his stare. She felt a smile drift over her lips and released a slow steady breath.

Mystery solved, she thought.

His eyes were blue. And she was drowning.

3

HE COULDN’T HAVE BEEN more stunned if he’d been knocked over the head with a frying pan, Lex thought as he watched the woman come toward him.

In the first place, she was young. As in not old. Or not as old as he’d assumed she would be, at any rate. He struggled to get a handle on this change of events. Just a second ago he’d been certain he’d walked into his worst nightmare, a geriatric cougar bent on hunting him the entire trip.

In the second place, she was beautiful. Not mildly attractive or merely pretty.

Bess Cantrell was beautiful.

She had long wavy auburn hair and big green eyes that tilted upward at the corners, giving her an exotic edge. Curly lashes framed those compelling eyes, especially high cheekbones carved lovely hollows beneath them, and her nose was small and finely made. She had the clearest, smoothest skin he’d ever seen, and though he’d never understood the phrase “porcelain complexion,” he did now. The mouth that tied this all together was lush and bow-shaped and curled just so on the upper lip to make one think she was enjoying a bit of a private joke. At your expense.

She was petite and very curvy, probably carrying more weight than was currently fashionable, but he’d never liked a scrawny girl. He’d always imagined sex with a so-called supermodel would be like bedding a praying mantis. Sorry, not for him. He preferred the soft womanly frame of the old Hollywood stars—the pinup girls circa WWII—and this girl would have been right at home on the nose of a B-52.

The private joke he’d caught between his employers now made perfect sense and he felt his own lips twist with belated humor. A warning would have been nice, but wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable for them. Sneaky bastards. Perversely, he liked them even more now than he did before.

Bess shook his hand, the small touch resonating to the soles of his feet, then leaned forward and spoke in conspiratorial undertones. “I hope I’m the lesser of two evils,” she said with a tiny significant jerk of her head toward the woman behind the counter. Her voice was light and musical with a husky finish that put him in mind of tangled sheets and naked skin.

Hers specifically.

Lex smiled. He wasn’t touching that loaded remark with a ten-foot pole. “Lex Sanborn,” he said. “With Ranger Security.”

She nodded. “Bess Cantrell. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her gaze dropped down to his dog and her naturally pink tinted lips slid into a friendly grin. “And who is this?”

“Honey,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought her along.”

“Not at all,” she said. “She’s a pretty dog.” She dropped down to face Honey and held her hand out so that the animal could get a sniff. Honey looked up at him, evidently seeking approval, and, at his nod, she nosed Bess’s palm. The ice broken, Bess petted her head and scratched her behind the ears. “Ahhh,” she said, grinning at the animal. “You like that, do you? You’re a good girl.” She was completely at ease talking to the dog. Some people weren’t, which he thought was odd. He’d always found it easier to get along with animals than people, a fact he’d forgotten until he’d found Honey.

Bess stood again and looked up at him. “So we’d better be going then?”

He nodded, annoyed that she’d had to remind him and not the other way around. What the hell was wrong with him? It’s not like he’d never seen a beautiful woman. Not like he hadn’t been with more than a few actually. So what was it about this one that had made him forget himself already? What was it about this one that had his balls tightening and his chest in knots? After less than thirty seconds in her company?

Bess went over and hugged the woman behind the counter. “I’ll check in often, Elsie, and call me if something important comes up.” She lingered purposely over the “important” part, leading him to believe that the bizarre Elsie was prone to contacting her about things that weren’t. Given what he’d observed in the minute he’d known Elsie, he could see where that would definitely have been the case. When she’d refused to release his hand and made the you’ve-come-close remark, he’d gotten the strangest sensation that the older woman had been peering directly into his brain, picking his secrets out, leaving him more than a little unnerved.

His gaze slid to Bess once more and lingered over her ripe rear end. Most definitely the lesser of two evils, he thought.

“Of course,” Elsie said with an innocent bat of her lashes.

“And you’ll feed Severus for me?”

“Every morning and afternoon to make sure that his blood sugar stays normal.” She snorted. “And cats are supposed to be low-maintenance pets.”

Bess smiled gratefully at the older woman. “Thanks, Elsie. You’re a peach.” She turned to face him once again and then headed toward the door and picked up an overnight bag. “I’m ready when you are.”

He hurried forward and took the bag from her hand, then opened the door for her, making the effort to remember that he was a gentleman and had been taught common courtesies.

“I could have gotten that,” she said. “Believe me, I’m used to carrying things a lot heavier.”

He imagined so. Nevertheless, he’d do the heavy lifting on this trip. He opened the car door for her and tried not to watch the way the denim clung to her luscious heart-shaped ass as she slipped into the passenger seat. Muttering a plea for self-restraint, he stored her bag in the back of the SUV next to his, then helped Honey into the backseat and unclipped her leash.