Dealing with Annie Read online

  Was it because Jenny was holding something back, or because Annie suddenly had terrible doubts about the people in her life? Such as, could Stella really be trying to ruin her? Or God forbid, Jenny?

  And where did Dennis fit into all of it?

  No doubt, Annie was going to have to go back to New York, at least for a day or two, and that weighed heavily on her.

  For one thing, she no longer felt comfortable leaving Aunt Gerdie alone. She could simply bring her along, but the truth was, Annie just didn’t want to go. New York was no longer home. After such a short time, Cooper’s Corner, and all the special people in it, had become home. Especially this renovated farmhouse, which had so much of her heart in it.

  When she’d first moved here, she’d been so relaxed at leaving behind the stress she’d actually thought about selling Annie’s Garden and starting over. Jenny could buy her out or not, and Annie would be free. Free from obligation, free from the stress, free, free, free.

  But as she’d considered selling, her heart had lurched.

  As it had every time since.

  No, as she’d told Jenny, selling wasn’t an option. It would be like cutting off a limb. She’d continued to run product research and development from here and been perfectly content.

  She glanced down at her drawings. Even with her mind on other things, she still had the touch. She’d drawn a mock-up of an Oriental take-home box. She’d have it made out of silk, with silver handles. A case a woman could use as a purse on a night out, dancing with her lover… Lover. With little surprise, Ian came to mind. What was it about him that made her feel so vibrant, so sexy, so…alive?

  She liked it, too much. She liked him.

  And he liked her back. The memory of him proving it to her with mindless, bone-melting kisses had longing and yearning bursting through her. Making love with him would be heaven, she just knew it. It was a surprise how earthy, how sensual her thoughts had become lately, as she’d never really thought of herself as a sexual creature.

  But she thought maybe, just maybe, with Ian she could be.

  Would be.

  Smiling a little dreamily, she looked up, looked out the window and gasped. The night was black, but she could clearly see a man standing there, watching her.

  Then she realized that long, lean, tough outline belonged to Ian. Her longing and yearning tripled, and she moved to the door, opening it, spilling the light from the studio into the night. He wasn’t looking at her, but down at the ground beneath her window, and carefully, letting out an oath he didn’t try to hide, he went down on his knees.

  “Ian?” Dropping her pencil, she ran outside.

  “Stay out of the planter.” He threw out an arm across her thighs to hold her back. “Don’t cover the prints.”

  Then she saw them, and involuntarily, her bones gave way, dropping her to her knees beside him.

  “How big are Aunt Gerdie’s feet?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Not that big.”

  “Gardener?”

  The large footprints were facing her window. She thought of all those nights she’d worked late, with her curtains thrown open to the gorgeous night sky.

  And someone had been watching her. “No gardener at this time of year.”

  Ian got to his feet a little unsteadily, then pulled her up. She turned toward him, not knowing exactly what she was going to do, but then he opened his arms and she stepped right into them as if she belonged there.

  “I was in the studio last night, too, after our date,” she said, hearing her voice shake. “Working late. And the night before…”

  His arms squeezed possessively on her. “You and Aunt Gerdie are coming to stay at the farm. Now. We need to call the police, and—”

  “Your leg first. You’re gritting your teeth, your jaw is all bunched and—”

  “That’s just stress.”

  “Ian, you’re sweating as if it’s ninety degrees out instead of thirty. Now, damn it, don’t treat me like an idiot.”

  “Okay, it hurts,” he admitted. “I rode Thomas’s motorcycle—” He pointed to the Harley in the driveway. “And maybe I rode a little too hard. No big deal.”

  She let out a shaky breath and turned him toward the house. “It’s a big deal to me. I want to look at it.”

  * * *

  IAN FIGURED ANNIE HAD to be the most stubborn woman he’d ever met. Before he could come up with a good reason for her to ignore his bad leg, she’d taken him inside, past the living room, down the hall and into the bathroom.

  She pushed him gently down to the closed commode, then dropped to her knees beside him, her hands on his leg. “Lose the pants.”

  He nearly swallowed his tongue. “What? No.” He laughed. “I’m going to be fine.”

  “I want to see what’s wrong with you.”

  She had her hands on him, with lingering terror still in her eyes. And yet she wanted to take care of him. He’d never met anyone like her. But more disconcerting was that his leg was killing him. He wasn’t invincible, damn it, and for her, he really wanted to be. “Call the cops about the footprints. Call Hunter.”

  “The prints aren’t going anywhere in the next few minutes. Your leg, Ian.”

  When he just glared at her, she actually reached out for the top button on his Levi’s. “Fine, then I’ll just—”

  “Annie.” Gripping her hands just in time, he let out another rough laugh. “You can’t just take off my pants.”

  “Really? Then tell me what’s wrong with your leg. What did you do? Were you in a car accident?”

  “No.”

  “Did it happen at your work?”

  At his silence, she got even more determined. “Okay, it’s work related,” she decided. “Tell me about it. And while you’re at it, tell me what you do when you’re not on your brother’s farm. Tell me about your job. Tell me—”

  “We have more important stuff going on at the moment—”

  “You know what I’ve learned about you, Ian? That there’s always something more important than talking about you and your life. Why is that?” Her chin set stubbornly, she pulled her hands free of his, shoved up his shirt a little and popped the top button of his Levi’s.

  What she was doing shouldn’t have been anything other than infuriating, but she was on her knees before him, her hands hovering above the part of him that suddenly was awake and looking for action.

  She went for the second button, her fingers brushing over the bare skin of his belly, and he let out a strangled sound that had her gaze jerking up to his.

  He was quite certain the look he shot her was long and hot.

  She had the good grace to blush, but it didn’t stop her, and her fingers grappled with his.

  But there was no way in hell she was getting his pants off, not here, not now. When she got his pants off it would be because he was about to sink into her glorious body. It would be because her legs were wrapped around his hips, head tossed back, his name on her lips. Because he wanted to watch her explode for him, screaming as she did.

  And he did want those things, but not now, not in the harsh light of the bathroom, where what he’d get would be her gasp of horror at the sight of the scar from the bullet that had ripped him open.

  Purposely he upped the heat in his gaze, well past hot and on its way to scorching. Her breath quickened, and she bit her lower lip.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked silkily. “You don’t want to finish?”

  “I just wanted to see your leg.” She pulled her hands back, but tried to stare him down.

  He stared right back.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she whispered.

  “What’s going on is you have yourself a stalker,” he said bluntly, then stood and rebuttoned his pants. “Call the police, Annie. We’ll talk later.”

  “Promise?”

  “Pack some stuff, tell Aunt Gerdie. After we talk to Hunter, you’re both coming back with me until this is over.”

  “Promis