Thrill Me Page 5

  She eyed him, then nodded toward the cabinet. “You can grab some silverware and dishes.”

  He did so, setting the kitchen table. “I like your house.”

  She looked surprised. “Thanks. It’s small, and old, but I love it. The yard’s really pretty in the spring when the perennials come into bloom.”

  “Perennials?”

  “Flowers that come back every spring.”

  “Oh. I guess I need to learn that kind of stuff if I’m going to buy a place of my own.”

  “Are you looking to buy a house?”

  He nodded. “Actually, your brother’s helping me.”

  “Is that the reason you came out to talk to me?” She leaned against the counter, looking at him, a half smile on her lips. “The situation? What has Mick done this time?”

  Interesting. She thought her brother might be in trouble. He made a mental note to check out Mick Winchester. “Nothing to my knowledge. Why?”

  “Mick’s left some angry women behind over the years. One of these days, somebody’s going to pay him back but good.”

  He heard the good humor in her voice. “Sounds like you don’t think that’s such a bad thing.”

  She snickered. “Nope. As his sister, I love the louse to pieces. But as a woman, I hope somebody blows him right out of the water one of these days.”

  Again, Daniel realized, she didn’t sound like a small-town, quiet, good girl. That was making him like her more and more.

  She turned away to finish the salad. Realizing dinner was almost ready, he asked, “Can I wash up?”

  She nodded, pointing absently toward the hallway. But before he could even leave the kitchen, Sophie let out a scream.

  His blood froze.

  “Stop right there,” she ordered. “Don’t take another step.”

  Daniel swung around, immediately on alert. “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning his head to eye all the corners of the room.

  Had she heard a noise? Seen a face in the window? He muttered a quiet curse for leaving his weapon locked up at home. Hell, he’d never had a need for it since he’d moved here…until now.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she rushed past him. She darted down the hallway, then yanked a door shut. Giving him a weak smile, she explained, “The spare room. It’s a mess.” Then she pointed to a door directly opposite. “There you go.”

  “Thanks for scaring me half to death.”

  She nibbled her lip, looking sheepish. “Sorry. I’m just horrified of anyone finding out my dark secret.”

  “Secret?” he asked with a raised brow. He was very interested in any secrets Sophie might be keeping. Particularly any naughty ones. Stow that, this is business.

  “Yeah. I’m not a great housekeeper. I just throw all my stuff in there. It’s a nightmare.”

  Made sense, he supposed.

  Not.

  She might sound completely innocent, sweet-smiling Sophie, but he suspected there was more to the story than some dust bunnies or unfolded laundry. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Sophie Winchester had something she wanted to hide in the guest room. Not a man, he was quite sure. No way would she have invited him to stay for dinner if she was entertaining someone else. But something didn’t ring true about her explanation about the spare room. Heck, the whole house had a cluttered, lived-in look that he already liked, if only because it was so unexpected from the put-together church secretary.

  The bathroom was no exception. It wasn’t done up in prissy spring colors, with flowers or dried stuff that smelled like peaches. No, Sophie’s powder room was a screaming bright yellow, with black fixtures and funky framed comic book art on the walls. He liked it. It suited her—the Sophie he was coming to know—the girl who wore the same shade of yellow when she snuck away to work out in the next town.

  And this Sophie, he sensed, was not necessarily the girl the whole town seemed to think she was.

  Returning to the kitchen, he found her dishing out two large bowls of soup. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten homemade soup in my life,” he admitted as he sat down.

  “My father brought the canned stuff home once and I thought my mother was going to brain him with it.” She laughed softly. “She’s old-school Italian.”

  As they ate, they were joined by a fat orange cat who sauntered into the room like he owned the place. He gave Daniel a look that clearly asked just what he thought he was doing in the cat’s domain. Daniel smiled as he finished off his bread. “Your cat seems surprised to see me.”

  Sophie shrugged. “Mugs is the only male who’s eaten in this kitchen since I bought the place.” Seeming to realize how her admission sounded, she hurried on. “I mean, like I said, I can’t cook. I don’t typically have men over for dinner.” She nibbled her lip, backpedaling again. “I mean, we would usually, um, go out or something.”

  A charming flush pinkened her cheeks and Daniel brought his napkin to his mouth to hide a smile. “To Ed’s, I’m sure. I hear their steak special is something else.”

  She frowned. “Something special if you like beef jerky.”

  Yeah. She’d had Ed’s steak special. “So where do you go on your…dates?”

  She waved an airy hand. “Lots of places. Tons.”

  Tons of places on her scads of dates. Riiiiight.

  So, she didn’t want him to think she didn’t have an active social life, which meant she was thinking of him in terms of her social life. That, in his opinion, was a good thing.

  “Mugs, go take a nap or something,” she said when the cat attempted to charm his way up onto Daniel’s lap. The cat ignored her, giving Daniel a plaintive mew. After pushing his bowl away, Daniel scooted his chair back and invited the cat to jump up.

  Sophie scowled. “Mugshot, you’re being very rude.”

  “Mugshot?”

  She raised a brow. “What’s the matter? Not the name you’d expect for a spinster church secretary’s cat?”

  He nearly fell out of his chair at that one. “Spinster? You’re all of what, twenty-three? And, uh, I don’t think there is such a thing as a spinster in the twenty-first century.” No way was this woman destined to be alone. Not with her sweetly curved mouth and those blue-enough-to-swim-in eyes. “Besides, you go on lots of dates, from what I hear.”

  She shot him a withering glare. “I’m twenty-six.”

  “Positively ancient,” he murmured.

  “And I know you know I was lying about my social life. The pope goes out more than I do.”

  “I’d imagine he goes out quite a lot, actually. Saving souls, doing good works and all.”

  She harrumphed. “I meant on dates.”

  “I somehow suspect you could go out with as many men as you want, as often as you like, if you chose to.”

  “You might not know as much about me as you think.” Her voice held both secrets and challenge, as if she was practically daring him to figure out the puzzle that was Sophie Winchester.

  He wanted to. Wanted to figure her out, know her, get inside her head. Raw heat made him admit that wasn’t the only part of Sophie he wanted to get inside.

  He wanted to make love to her. He’d wanted her physically since the minute he’d seen her passing by the store window on Christmas Eve. He’d never been hit as hard by instant attraction in his life as he had been by this woman sitting across from him, daring him to understand what made her tick.

  Their eyes met, and he knew damn well she’d read his thoughts. The electric awareness which had faded somewhat during their amiable dinner returned in full force. They just looked at one another across the small kitchen table. He continued to stroke the cat, liking the softness of the animal’s fur against his fingers. Sophie finally lowered her gaze, watching him, her face growing pinker as she studied the movement of his hand.

  She was thinking of being touched by him. He knew it.

  “I know a lot about you,” he said softly.

  She visibly swallowed, then shook her head.

  He ticked off hi
s impressions, everything he’d learned since meeting this unpredictable woman. “You live here alone with your cat. And you don’t invite men over,” he said, challenging her to correct the picture he was painting of her life. “You donate boxes of clothes to the needy. Your mother keeps you fed. You’re pushed around by your boss’s sister, and everyone thinks you’re the sweetest thing in town.”

  Bull. All of it was bull. He knew it down to his bones.

  “Sorry, babe. I don’t see the spinster church secretary with a cat that everyone else in Derryville sees.” Letting Mugs hop off his lap, he leaned back in his chair, extending his legs in front of him. He crossed his arms and gave her his most disarming smile. “Honey, that might be what you’re selling to the rest of this town. But I, for one, am not buying it.”

  SOPHIE WAS IN REAL trouble. Good Lord, one meal with the man and he’d already seen through the careful facade she’d used to fool everyone in Derryville throughout her adult life. Her jaw dropped open, then snapped closed again. She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep her cool and not give him more proof that she was not a sweet woman, but one with a temper and a sharp tongue.

  It took a lot of effort.

  “Maybe you’re right about a few things.”

  “Just a few?”

  She didn’t relent. “Maybe I’m a spinst…single woman…by choice. Women in the twenty-first century choose to be single all the time. We don’t have to gauge our success by the number of men we date.”

  “Uh-huh. Why don’t you just admit you don’t want to go out with anybody in this town because not one of them sees you for who you really are?”

  She froze at that one, because he’d struck at the heart of the matter. He was exactly right. God, how could he see so much, know her so well, after such a brief acquaintance? She’d love to find out, love to see if this big city cop had been using his analytical skills on her, or if he was just one perceptive guy.

  “Who I really am?”

  He nodded, then pushed the dishes out of the way to lean across the table, making sure he had her complete attention.

  Uh, yeah, he definitely did.

  “I see the real you. I want to see a lot more of the real you.”

  Her breath caught as he leaned even closer, close enough that they were sharing breaths. Then closer…closer…until his lips brushed hers in the lightest, faintest kiss that left her trembling, shaking, and dying for more.

  He pulled back the tiniest bit and she struggled to remember her name. “What was that for?” she finally whispered, her lips still tingling where they’d brushed so delicately across his.

  “That was a thank-you for the soup.”

  She emitted a shaky sigh. “Gee, I’d love to see how you’d say thank you if I’d actually cooked anything.”

  “Since you told me how you cook, I can’t say for sure.”

  She hid her disappointed frown. Barely.

  “But if you did even a tiny bit better than burned toast, it would probably inspire something like this.”

  She didn’t have time to hide her reaction this time. Because before she knew what was happening, Daniel had slipped his hands into her hair and gently cupped her head. He pulled her forward and took her mouth in a sweet, wet, hot kiss that did more to fill her up than any other meal she’d had at this kitchen table.

  She’d been kissed before, even by him. But last night at the gym had been about raw, sweaty desire and attraction.

  Tonight was about seduction. A sensual caress of lips and tongue. He teased her, tasted her, slipped his tongue against hers in a delicate, intoxicating dance that left her shaking in her seat. Somehow, this slow buildup of tension and delicious intimacy aroused her every bit as much as last night’s carnal embrace. He had touched her with nothing but his mouth but her whole body was alert and dying for more.

  Finally, he pulled away and sat back in his chair. They looked at one another across the table. Sophie had a quick mental flash of sweeping the dishes to the floor and diving across the table to leap on him.

  They weren’t her good dishes, after all.

  “Well?” she asked, knowing he understood the question.

  He licked his lips. “Oh, yeah.”

  Yes! Her libido answered. Her mind had shut off completely.

  Then he ran a hand over his eyes and shook his head. “But first we need to talk. I think it’s even more important now that I’m coming to know the real Sophie Winchester.”

  Her mind kicked back into gear, to her great regret. “Back to that again?” She crossed her arms, more to keep herself from reaching across the table and grabbing him than anything else. “Okay, Chief, who am I, really?”

  “You’re also a woman who has the softest lips I’ve ever felt and kisses like sweet, sugarcoated sin.”

  She gulped. Whoa.

  He rubbed his hand on his jaw, staring at her intently. Then his eyes narrowed. “Who you really are is a smart-mouthed, naughty, imaginative woman with a slightly twisted sense of humor who can’t cook, probably can’t sew, knit, iron or do any other housewifey crap most men in this town would expect.”

  She couldn’t restrain a laugh. He’d pretty much pegged her, all right.

  “Luckily,” he added with a sexy, playful grin that stole her breath right out of her mouth, “I’m not from this town.”

  No, he wasn’t. And the kiss they’d just shared should have had her jumping up singing hallelujah for that fact.

  But what he’d said had cut through the hazy desire clouding her mind and brought her back to reality. He did know her. Dammit, he really did. So how much of a stretch would it be for him to find out the rest? All of it?

  She couldn’t afford that.

  Sometimes life was so unfair. Because here was a man she’d love to get to know better. A lot better. And she couldn’t. Couldn’t be around him, couldn’t get to know him, couldn’t jump his bones and make love to him from here to next week.

  It was too risky. She’d known it before; tonight merely confirmed it. “Okay, maybe you’re right about some things. But truthfully, why I stay to myself is my own business.” Swallowing hard, she told the biggest whopper of her day. “That’s the way I like it, and that’s the way it’s going to stay. So whether you’re from town or not really makes no difference to me. Anything else…” wild kinky sex on the kitchen table “…would be short-term. Temporary. So it probably isn’t the best idea.”

  He watched her for a moment, gauging the truth of her words. She tried hard to meet his stare, knowing how quickly a cop would peg her a liar if her eyes shifted away. Finally, though he didn’t look convinced, he apparently decided to let her get away with throwing up barriers. He sat back in his chair. “Okay, Ms. Winchester. I guess I get the point.”

  She told herself to be glad she’d handled this so responsibly after their kiss, rather than throwing herself across the table and begging him to take her. She’d done exactly what people would have told her to do.

  Unfortunately, in spite of what most people in this town would think, Sophie never had liked being told what to do. Her brother Mick was probably the only one who’d understood that about her when they were growing up.

  After all, she was the one who usually came up with ways to break the rules. He was just the one who got caught.

  “So,” she said, “maybe you’d better tell me what it is you came here to tell me. It’s getting late.”

  “All right,” he finally said, rising from the chair to stand over her. “Let me go get something.”

  Sophie immediately stood too, clearing the dishes off the table while he left the kitchen. By the time she’d put the bowls in the sink, he was back, watching her from a few feet away.

  “I have something I want you to look at.”

  That was a loaded comment, considering what she’d really wanted to look at all evening was him. Naked. Sweaty. Howling with pleasure.

  Enough.

  His next move stunned her out of her lustful dementia. H
e held up a small plastic baggie. Inside was a 3 × 5 spiral notebook. Her notebook. The rat had gone into her office!

  “What is going on?” she asked, wanting to know who he thought he was to invade her privacy like that. Damn, what else had he nosed through while he was supposed to be in the bathroom?

  She was about to threaten lawsuits over illegal search and invasion of privacy, when he shut her up with six words.

  “I think you’re in danger, Sophie.”

  “Danger?” she repeated, not understanding what he meant.

  “Yes. I think someone’s planning to kill you.”

  6

  “YOU’RE CRAZY.”

  That was her response after he explained the whole situation to her. Daniel didn’t take offense. Most potential crime victims didn’t believe they were targets at first, especially in a place like Derryville. It seemed even less likely when it involved the town sweetheart. “I’m very serious about this, Sophie.”

  She didn’t take her eyes off the notebook. Daniel had wrapped it in a plastic baggie after examining it at the station this evening.

  Sophie looked confused, bewildered and more than a little anxious. “Where did you say you got the notebook?”

  “Mrs. Madigan, one of the tellers from the bank, found it in the road not far from the church on her way home from work yesterday evening. She turned it in this afternoon.”

  Though she reached for the notebook, he didn’t let her have it. “Evidence.”

  She frowned. Pointing to the small marks on the dinged-up red cover, she asked, “What are those little holes? Looks like teeth marks.”

  He tried to ease any concerns she might have that she could be dealing with a biting sicko. “Don’t worry, they’re obviously not human.”

  She gave him a look of exasperation. “I’m not an idiot—I know what human teeth marks would look like. But what kind of animal made these?”

  He briefly wondered why she’d know what human teeth marks would look like. “Something was at it. Maybe a squirrel, chipmunk.”

  “A big stupid dog,” she muttered.

  Daniel nodded. “Could be.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Cujo.”