Peter slid his gaze to me, stunning me again with its force.This time it penetrated the protective skin I’d grown following Adam’s death, and for an instant, the pain was exposed, raw once more.He touched it.I would have gasped if he hadn’t suddenly looked back at the photograph.
His features gave nothing away as he stood there, silently studying the picture.Only when he returned it to its place and looked at me did I realize how close we were standing.Tearing myeyes from his, I glanced down at the cold cup in my hand.“I’d like some fresh tea,” I murmured and started off toward the kitchen.I thought I’d made my escape and was taking a deep, shaky breath when Peter’s voice came from several paces behind.
“Any coffee?”
I swallowed the tail end of the breath and, without turning, said, “Sure.”
“I’d love some, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
“No trouble.”I would have given anything to have him back in the living room, but it was too late.He was well into the kitchen.I could feel his presence through the fine hairs at the back of my neck.
Putting a hand there, I used my free hand to put the kettle on to boil, then reached for the coffee cannister.
“Neck problems?”
“No, no.”Dropping my hand, I quickly measured coffee beans into the mill.
“This is charming,” Peter said.I turned to find him within arm’s length, looking around much as he’d done in the other room.“It has character.”
Following his gaze, I took in the dovetailing of wood and tile that gave the kitchen its pecan color and its warmth.“I thought so.”
“I’ll bet it wasn’t like this when you bought it.”
Remembering that day so long ago when I’dfirst seen the house, I couldn’t help but smile.“You bet right.It was old and ugly, the worst room in the place.We tore everything out, then put new things in piece by piece.Not that it’s state of the art,” I added quickly, lest he think I’d left luxury to create luxury.The kitchen wasn’t luxurious, just comfortable and efficient and aesthetically pleasing.“What you see here are the basic amenities, but they’re more than adequate.I can put together as elegant a meal as any situation warrants.”
“Can you manage a tuna sandwich?”
That wasn’t quite the kind of elegant meal I’d been picturing.“Excuse me?”
“I drove straight through,” he said, immobilizing me with those luminescent green eyes of his.“I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and that was before seven this morning.If you have a can of tuna and a little mayo in the house, I’d love a sandwich.If you give me the workings, I’ll make it myself.In fact,” he swallowed, “give me a fork and I’ll eat the tuna from the can.”
I stared up at him.“You’re that hungry?”
“That hungry.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?”
“It seemed rude.I’d just arrived.”
“And the difference now?”
“This kitchen.It’s very inviting.”
So was he.Uncomfortably so.Looking up into those eyes, aware of the tousle of his hair, the shadow of a beard on his cheeks, the faint scent of something clean and male that clung tohis skin, I felt attracted to him in ways that were strange and unbidden.After all, I loved Adam.He’d been all I’d needed when he was alive, and his memory was all I needed now.
Peter Hathaway was in my house for one reason and one reason alone—to defend Cooper.And the sooner he set about doing that, the better I’d feel.
“If you’ll give me a little room,” I cleared my throat and turned back to the counter, “I’ll put together some lunch.”
Out of the silence, I heard Peter step back, then pull a stool from beneath the adjacent counter.The stool creaked when he sat.If I’d been on the ball, I’d have taken the stool for myself, leaving him to sit a little farther off at the table.I’d have preferred that.This way, not only could he watch everything I did, but I was aware of his doing it.
I’d missed my chance, though.Determined to ignore the large, dark form in my periphery, I focused in on my work.
“Tell me about Cooper,” Peter said.
I waited until the noise of the coffee mill died, then said, “Where should I begin?”
“How long have you known him?”
