As soon as they were inside, Steven went back to his bedroom to start his nightly crunches, curls and other exercises to keep himself in shape while he recuperated from his accident. Having mentioned that he would take a long walk to enjoy the rain-cooled evening, Andrew let himself out, locking the door behind him. The family compound was well-lit, so he’d have been visible crossing the road to Hannah’s place if anyone had been watching, but he saw no one else around. Lights burned in Maggie’s house, and he thought he saw the flicker of a television through the slats in the living room blinds. Aaron was closed in with Shelby, and Andrew figured his brother was pleasantly occupied.
So why did he have the sudden, strange feeling that he was being watched? Pausing on Hannah’s porch with one hand resting lightly on the railing, he looked around with narrowed eyes, but saw nothing suspicious. Despite the lighting, there were scattered shadows where someone could hide, especially if dressed in dark clothing, but he saw nothing that made him feel compelled to go investigate. Across the street, he saw Pax sleeping contentedly on Steven’s porch. Not that the dog was a reliable guard, but he seemed to have no concerns.
Shaking his head, he told himself he was letting paranoia carry him away. He supposed Hannah’s near obsession about secrecy was affecting him more than he’d realized. True, it wasn’t like him—his instincts were usually almost uncannily reliable—but then nothing about the past few days had been normal for him.
Drawing a deep breath, he tapped on the door. A moment later, it opened. Her serene expression belied by the nerves apparent in her eyes, Hannah moved aside. “Come in, Andrew. I’ve been waiting for you.”
* * *
Automatically, Hannah scanned the grounds after letting Andrew in. She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to do so; maybe it was to see if anyone was around to have watched him enter. Maybe because seeing her ex-husband’s father again earlier—especially not long before picking up her vandalized car—had left her jumpy and hypervigilant. Maybe because her upcoming talk with Andrew made her nervous and she was projecting that anxiety outside.
She closed the door, then smoothed her hands down her T-shirt before turning to face him. “Have you eaten? Maggie and I had pasta, but there are leftovers in the fridge.”
“Thanks, but I ate with Aaron and Shelby and her family.”
“Was Lori there?”
He shook his head. “She left after work. Your aunt Sarah wasn’t happy about Lori going out in the worst of the rainstorm.”
“I have a feeling it wasn’t the rain my aunt was unhappy about.”
He shrugged because they both knew that was true. Hannah wished she could have done more to warn her young cousin about the dangers inherent with getting involved with the wrong man. But then, she didn’t know for certain whether Zach was a decent guy or not. Other than his wild reputation in aimless local gossip, she knew little about him. It was obvious that Lori resented any unwanted advice about her love life. Hannah might have felt the same way had anyone tried to warn her about Wade all those years ago, though he’d been so good at conning people that everyone had thought he was just wonderful.
Thinking of how perfect Wade had pretended to be made her even more worried about getting involved with Andrew. Practically perfect-in-every-way Andrew, the hero of her family—well, until his twin brother had heroically saved her cousin’s life. Now he was more like a co-hero. She didn’t th
ink he deliberately misrepresented himself, of course. Unlike her ex, Andrew was exactly what he appeared to be. Practically perfect. Why did that seem to be almost as insurmountable an obstacle as Wade’s duplicity?
“What are you thinking about so seriously?” he asked her, tilting his head as he studied her face. She realized she’d been standing in front of the door for several minutes, lost in her rather incoherent thoughts.
She moved away from the door into the room. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Instead, she walked toward the couch, avoiding his eyes. “Maggie and I watched the news while we ate. Sounds as though the rain is over. The rest of the weekend is supposed to be beautiful weather-wise. We needed the rain, but I’m sure our guests are happy with the forecast.”
He stepped in front of her so that she had no option but to look at him. “We’re talking about the weather now?”
His quiet question made her wince. “Just making small talk.”
“I think we’re past that, don’t you?”
She pushed a hand through her hair. “I just...”
Having no clue how she’d planned to finish that sentence, she fell silent.
Andrew raised a hand to skim the line of her jaw with his fingertips, gliding across her cheek and then pausing to trace her lower lip. Just a brush of his hand—and yet she felt as though she had been thoroughly kissed. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes as he gazed so intently at her mouth. Maybe it was just the reawakening of memories she tried so hard and so often to suppress.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Hannah,” he said quietly, resting his hand against her cheek.
She sighed, covering his hand with her own. “I’m not afraid of you, Andrew. Maybe I’m a little afraid of myself when I’m around you.”
It was an unguarded admission, and maybe she shouldn’t have let it slip, but something in his expression made her think he completely understood. He lifted his other hand to cup her face between his palms, and then he brushed his lips over hers. Perhaps he’d intended it only as a reassuring caress, a sweet moment of bonding. Maybe he didn’t plan for it to go any further, or to evolve into anything more than a light kiss. If so, he’d forgotten to account for the sparks that seemed to fly whenever their lips met, or the fires those sparks ignited.
The kiss changed, deepened. His hands fell, his arms going around her to pull her closer. There was a momentary hesitation when their bodies met, as they adjusted for her changed shape, and Hannah started to draw back. But then Andrew’s hands made a slow sweep down her back and the tip of his tongue traced her lower lip before slipping inside her mouth. The heat rose, spreading rapidly from her mouth to her limbs to a place deep inside her heart that had been cold and dark since the morning she’d said goodbye to him for what she’d thought had been the last time.
Her arms were around his neck. When had that happened? Her sensitive breasts brushed against his solid chest, reminding her of how very good he looked and felt beneath the conservative clothes he favored. His thighs were rock solid when they tangled with her legs. He was aroused and hungry, and his kisses left no doubt of that.
She pulled her mouth from his, drawing in a deep, unsteady breath, her hands clutching his shoulders for support.