The look in his eyes was stark. Haunted. “They’re still alive, but that’s all I’m telling you. They’ll be put into the system, and since they’ll probably be charged with organized crime, they won’t get out for a long time. If ever.” He glanced down at the blood on his hands. “I need to take a quick shower. Something smells really good.” He strode through the living room and disappeared down the hall.
Blood. That had definitely been blood. Her stomach rolled, and a rock dropped to the bottom. Just who was that man?
CHAPTER
7
Denver smoothed back his wet hair after having dressed in a clean pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt, this one a dark blue. He loped into the kitchen, where Noni had already set the table with fuzzy yellow placemats and chipped ceramic bowls. Candles flickered in the middle of the table. He’d forgotten how much she liked to entertain. She’d been the first woman ever to cook for him and care if he enjoyed the meal or not. God, he’d missed her. “Smells good,” he mumbled.
“Sit.” She turned from the stove and dished up bowls of soup that smelled like heaven. Sourdough bread and butter came next, along with a bottle of white wine with a very fancy label. “Your brother has expensive taste in wine.” She poured them both glasses and then took a seat. “I indulged a little while I was cooking, and it’s excellent.”
He kept himself from fidgeting in his chair and took a taste of the soup. Delicious spices exploded on his tongue, and he hummed in appreciation. “I’ve missed your cooking.” Wrong thing to say, considering he’d abandoned her.
She let him off the hook and broke off a piece of bread. “It’s cold outside and soup seemed a good choice.” In her deep green sweater with her miles of dark hair pulled back, she looked like the perfect present to unwrap. He’d never seen a woman with eyes as dark as hers, and making them glow with pleasure was one of the few happy memories he kept. He remembered how to touch her, how to please her. Soft and sweet. His Noni.
His jeans felt too tight as his cock woke up. Her scent was just under the smell of the delicious dinner, making him want. He shook his head to regain control. The Christmas music still jingled in the background. “I’m sorry you’re not home preparing for the holidays,” he said. She probably loved it, right?
She took a drink of her wine. “Me too. Franny and Verna have always gone all out.”
He ate more of the soup, wanting to keep the conversation relaxed. “Where are they?”
“They’ll both be safely in Portland by tomorrow night,” Noni said, her voice a mite high as she obviously tried to engage in normal conversation after seeing him covered in blood. “I think that’s better than home, don’t you?”
He thought about it while he chewed bread. Even that somehow tasted better than normal because she’d heated it. “Yeah. Let’s keep them there.” Besides, if he faced either one of them, he was pretty sure he’d get kicked in the balls for hurting their girl. He got that. In fact, he appreciated it. “Sorry I couldn’t get any information from the gang members.” Hearing them squeal in pain had made his day, however. To think that they might’ve gotten to Noni if he hadn’t hit town in time. His hand tightened on his wineglass, and he forced himself to relax his hold.
She cleared her throat. “Did you, ah, hurt them badly?”
He wasn’t going there with her. “Yes, and they deserved pain. Topic closed.”
Her lips thinned, but she didn’t argue. “Fine. You promised me your life story.”
Man, he wasn’t ready for that. “You talk first. How’s the business?” She’d started her own lotion, candle, and perfume shop, and it had impressed the hell out of him. The place smelled like he assumed heaven would.
Her eyes lit. “Great. We’re doing a lot more Internet sales these days, which is pretty normal. Franny does the business side, I create, and Verna has been doing the Internet stuff. She’s getting swamped, though, so I think we might have to hire some help.” Noni took another drink of the wine and gave a soft moan. “So good.”
That sound shot right down his chest and landed in his balls. If she was still his, he’d reach for her and make her dessert. But he’d given her up, and he had no right to touch her, no matter how badly it hurt. But maybe he could know her better. He’d give anything to know all of her—to be the one person in life who did. “When we, ah, dated, you never told me how you ended up with them.”
“That’s because you never asked.” Old hurts flared in her eyes and then quickly disappeared.
He winced, his breath hitching in his chest. The fact that he’d hurt her would torture him throughout his life. “I thought we should keep things casual since I had to leave at the end of the job.” He’d been looking for an embezzler who had relocated to Anchorage, and he’d ultimately found the guy. “I did want to know, though.” He’d wanted to know everything about her and had to appease himself with just knowing her scent and touch. He’d tried not to love her, and he’d tried to protect her by being honest about his plans to leave. Apparently he’d screwed that one up seriously. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“So you’ve said,” she snapped, sparks shooting from her eyes.
His cock hardened even more. “Tell me your story, and I’ll tell mine.” If he listened to her, he’d relax, and then he could stop mentally kicking himself for screwing up. He took a drink of the wine. Tasted like wine. How she knew it was good, he had no clue. He was a straight whiskey man.
She sighed. “My parents, as you know, died.”
Yeah, but he’d never asked how. He felt for the lost little girl she must’ve been. He could relate. “When you were young.”
“Yeah. I was four years old, and they were snowmobiling and got caught in an avalanche.” She shrugged, her eyes downcast. “I remember them only from pictures, to be honest. But I look like my mom, who also looked like Aunt Franny, so there’s that.”
It still hurt her. Not knowing the people who’d created her. That he could understand, and he wished he could ease her pain somehow. “Franny took you in?”
“Yes. She was working as a bookkeeper at that time and was around thirty years old.”
So Franny had taken her in right away, providing love and security. “Was Verna with her yet?” he asked, taking another chunk of bread, needing to know more. The domesticity of the moment dug into him and grabbed hold with warmth. With comfort.
Noting his bowl was empty, Noni stood and ladled another bowl for him. “Yes. They’ve been together since college. So I got them both right away.” She sat back down and smiled. “For years I couldn’t understand why they couldn’t get married like other parents. But now they can, and they did.” She snorted. “But Franny won’t go on a honeymoon, and Verna is driving her crazy about it.”
