She rolled her eyes as he stepped out onto the porch. It wasn’t until she shut the door on him that he realized his mistake. It came at the same moment he heard the lock snick shut.
“And don’t lock me out!” he said through the door.
An evil chuckle was her only response.
Julie watched through the window and grinned as Mark sent the closed front door a frustrated grimace. She wondered if he would try the lock just in case. He didn’t. Instead, he narrowed his brow and turned his intense stare to the edge of the front porch. Then he seemed to draw into himself a bit, hunching his shoulders as he took slow, predatory steps forward.
She knew that stance, recognized his focused intensity. One summer night years ago, he’d stalked her like that. He’d hunted across her body, holding her gaze as he touched her in ways she’d never dreamed were possible. And the things they’d done that night had set the bar for every lover since.
She hated seeing that look again because it reminded her that he was done with her. He hunted something else, and she was nothing to him now. But even more, she hated that it still made her insides go wet. Even her damned nipples tightened, so she turned away in disgust. Let him bang on the door. She was done with him and this horrible little town in the middle of nowhere. She’d find her father’s stupid journals herself and leave before dark. And given the coming storm, it didn’t look like she had much time.
She made quick work of packing a small bag of her father’s things. All he needed was basic toiletries and a pair of pajamas. The real work would be after he left the hospital. Her whole plan was to gather up his work and then transport him to her tiny apartment in Chicago instead of coming back here, which is what he wanted. But that meant she had to find his tablet and journals.
Though she’d already searched once, she did a thorough check of every nook and cranny of his bedroom and bathroom just in case. It didn’t take long. Then she headed out to the main living room, annoyed at herself when her gaze went to the window and the rainy landscape. She was looking for Mark, of course, and she found him rounding the corner of the house at a slow lope. His hair was plastered to his head, his tee was a second skin, and, boy, did she love the way his ass moved, especially in wet jeans. But it was the size of him that attracted her more than anything. Big guy, all muscle, and that raw physical power thrilled her. She was a big woman and he’d carried her to the door like he was lifting a stack of mail. So easy and she’d been weak kneed in response.
She was so busy reliving that moment that she didn’t even realize there was another man at the door. Not until Mark stopped rounding the cabin and jumped up on the porch.
It took her a while to figure out the newcomer was Carl, Mark’s best friend, whom everyone had laughingly called Mr. Max for no apparent reason. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been a teenager with a warm laugh and tired eyes. He’d grown since then until he was taller than Mark, plus he’d added a beard, which would probably look sexy to another woman.
They were talking in low voices when she stepped near the window. Mark’s nose flared, and he turned to look right at her. She hadn’t made a sound, she was sure of it, but he acted like he knew she was right there. And his eyes—damn, those dark blue laser beams—cut straight to her, daring her to keep him out of the cabin.
She was moving to unlock the front door even before she realized her intention. What happened to her self-control? But she’d started the motion now. It would be silly to relock the door. So she opened it, her gaze going unerringly to Mark. But he wasn’t the one who spoke. Instead, it was Carl, his expression warm as he smiled at her.
“Hello, Miss Simon. Do you remember me?”
His eyes were still tired, and there was an extra layer of concern in them whenever he looked at Mark, which was often. But there was also a contentment in his voice, which was new. Well, as far as she could remember. Her attention had always been on Mark.
“I remember you, Mr. Max,” she said. His nickname came uneasily to her lips. She wasn’t sure she had the right to use the familiar form of address. Apparently, she did because his smile widened. “I always liked the way you said that,” he said. “Like I really deserved the title.”
“It’s a title?” she asked. She hadn’t known.
“Only for some. Feel free to call me Carl.” Then his expression sobered. “I was sorry to hear about your father. Dot has kept me up to date on his condition. I know he did fine with the surgery, but is there any other news?”
She relaxed with his easy chatter. Where Mark had always been intense, it was Mr. Max—Carl—who had tried to welcome her. “He’s tired and anxious to get back to his research.”
Carl shook his head. “He’s like a dog with a bone, your father.”
“Always.”
Then there was an awkward pause in the conversation. Julie was standing directly in their path, blocking the front door, though it was clear they wanted to come in. And as always, she noted when Mark tightened his hands into fists. When his shoulders hunched even more. And when his expression became stubborn.
“Julie, it’s not safe to be standing out here exposed like this.”
She loved it when he sounded protective. The illusion that some man would actually think of her safety was a need that had burrowed deep inside her years ago. Problem was, there wasn’t any real danger out here. He was making it up for some sick reason of his own. Probably because most women—including her—went liquid when he talked like that.
“There’s no danger, Mark. There never was.”
He growled at her, low and nearly inaudible. “There isn’t time for this. You’re muddling up the scent.” The frustration was clear in his gravelly words.
She turned to Carl. “You going to smell the furniture, too?”
Carl shrugged, looking moderately embarrassed. “I guess so.”
She blew out a breath, and with it went her resistance. “Anybody ever tell you guys you’re freaks?” she asked as she stepped aside.
“All the time,” Carl answered.
Her skin prickled as Mark moved past her. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she saw his nostrils flare as he went past. Almost as if he were smelling her. And she pretended he touched her arm to reassure her. He didn’t. Or at least, if he did, it wasn’t for her benefit. It was simply because he was so large and she was the complete opposite of petite. So he’d brushed against her side, and while she remembered caresses under the moonlight, the men went to sniff her father’s office.
