Hush (13 page)

He brushed his lips over hers, and she opened eagerly for him.

The kiss was long and sweet and tender—everything a kiss should be when you’re with the woman you love.

He could’ve kissed her like that forever, and he did pull her back for more when she tried to break away, but in the end she gave him a little shove and had her way. Apparently, Anna wanted to be heard too.

Reaching into the crate, she said, “Thanks for reminding me. As a matter of fact, I do lovepeaches.” Her eyes lifted to meet his. “And I love you, Charlie. So if it’s another chance you’re after, I gotta admit I’m all for it.”

And then Anna Kincaid, the girl of Charlie Drexler’s dreams, laughed out loud and took a big fearless bite of a perfect Tangleheart peach.

Thank you!

Thanks for reading Hush. I hope you enjoyed it!

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First Do No Evil
, please keep reading.

Other Books by Carey Baldwin

First Do No Evil

Now available from Samhain Publishing

Confession

Coming in March 2014 from William Morrow/Witness

Excerpt: First Do No Evil

There’s a killer lurking in Dr. Skylar Novak’s family tree: the gene for breast cancer. That's why her brilliant brother invented the Bella vaccine. But even if the miracle drug protects her from the cancer that took her mother's life, it can't save Sky from the flesh and bone evil stalking her in secret.

When the killer strikes, detective Daniel Benson finds himself in the wrong place at the right time. The bold detective manages to save Sky's life…just in time for her to return the favor. Survival leads to seduction, and Danny risks everything—his career, even his life, to keep Sky safe. But will the buried sins they uncover cost him her heart?

Danny’s strong arms may hold her close, but only Sky can stop the terror that's coming next…

Warning:
Contents include: One heart-melting hero—good luck getting this delicious detective out of your head. One reluctant heroine—wielding a Glock was never on her to-do list. One crazed villain—an entire flock of baa baa black sheep won't be enough to put you to sleep. And a lifesaving vaccine with one deadly side effect—
murder
.

Chapter One

D
R.
S
KYLAR
N
OVAK
had awakened today with a premonition of happiness. And all morning long she’d carried with her the hope, no, the determination, that her premonition would come true. Despite the fact that today was Halloween, the toughest day of the year for her, her spirits were running high. She’d decided to look to the future, not the past, and after all, the future did look promising. She still had her clinic, her brother, Garth, and now she had Edmond, and at long last, a real chance at happiness.

Unable to sleep, she’d made her Saturday morning rounds early and found herself running ahead of schedule—an unprecedented event, certain to please both her brother and Edmond. Taking care not to lose her footing on the ice- encrusted sidewalk, she rounded the corner onto Monticello Street. A gust of cold, clean air, doused with that unmistakable Flagstaff perfume—juniper, and sun and freshly fallen snow—hit her in the face, making her glad she’d decided to walk the short distance from the hospital to the diner.

To the tourists, Flagstaff was a quaint little mountain town filled with colorful shops and reasonably priced motels. To the college students, Flagstaff was a place to pursue a first-class education while enjoying unlimited access to an outdoor Mecca.

Sky, on the other hand, had been born here, raised here…and she’d probably die here.

She turned right, picked her way up the final hill, and arrived at her destination: Jolene’s coffee shop. A hand-lettered sign in the window read, "Best of Flagstaff Nominee Eight Years Running!"

Jolene’s—the Susan Lucci of breakfast establishments.
For a moment, her lips curled up at the edges, then, per her routine, Sky did a three-sixty, assessing her environment, determining the quickest escape route and threat level. After her father’s murder, she’d trained herself to be more alert to her surroundings, particularly when venturing out alone. Jolene’s, tucked away on a side street just shy of downtown, was less frequented than the eateries on Santa Fe, Flagstaff’s main drag. At not quite seven in the morning, this block still slumbered.

Security code: green.

A yellowed cardboard clock hung inside the glass-paneled door of Jolene’s. Its red plastic hands indicated the diner would open at seven. Sky tried the door. Locked. The wind lashed out, and she jammed her hands in her pockets. Her gloves and sunglasses lay forgotten on the kitchen counter at home.

Inside the diner, Nevaeh Flores bustled about, wiping counters, laying placemats and filling sugar jars, her back to the door. Despite the early hour, the girl had a swing in her step, evincing a naive optimism characteristic of many of the young women Sky cared for at the family medicine clinic, and poignantly appropriate for someone whose mother had named her heaven—spelled backwards. Perhaps naive optimism was an inherited trait.

Just yesterday, Sky had reluctantly turned over the care of nineteen-year-old Nevaeh, now five months pregnant, to an obstetrician. She rapped on the glass, but Nevaeh danced her way behind the counter without looking up. Shivering, Sky turned and reassessed the street. A baby-blue classic Mustang crept up the icy road and skidded to a stop at the curb in front of Jolene’s. Her throat constricted as she watched a big man exit the vehicle. Easily a foot taller than her, he must’ve been well over six feet. The man approached, head down, gray hoodie pulled forward over his face. No bulge in his lightweight sweats or jacket to suggest a weapon, but he held his arms a bit too far from his body, indicating to her that he might be carrying a sidearm.

Her heart rate jacked with each menacing crack of boot against ice. The man’s shoulders were broad, his waist and hips narrow. She could see the outline of densely muscled thighs working beneath his sweats. He reached the doorway and crunched to a halt beside her.

Security code: orange.

Hold your head up. Look him in the eyes. Don’t act like a victim. His chin came up. Her eyes lifted to his, and a warm brown gaze short-circuited her security system. She was struck by an unreasoned, instinctive urge to trust this man.

He spoke first. “Brrr chill.”

Such a childlike expression from such a dangerous looking source. Before she could stop it, her laugh broke free.

Two vertical lines creased the space between the man’s thick sable brows. “What?”

In order to quell her laughter, she concentrated on the dim scar that traveled the length of the man’s nasal filtrum before coursing into his off-center upper lip. The effect of that slight asymmetry, those full, battle-scarred lips set against otherwise perfect, intensely masculine angles was undeniably sensuous. The word devastating came to mind. He should be a poster boy for cleft-lip repairs. Her shoulders stopped vibrating, but she didn’t trust herself to speak, not quite yet.

“It’s fuckin’ freezing,” he said.

“Now that’s more what I’d expect from an outlaw like you.” Oh. That was inappropriate. But judging by the way every feature on his face worked its way into a rebel-without-a-cause grin, he hadn’t exactly taken offense at the remark.

“Well, all right then. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Doesn’t fit anyway. Buy you a coffee?”

“Thanks, but no.”

“Not into outlaws?”

“Uh…” She rattled the doorknob helplessly.

“One cup. C’mon, flirt and run’s a crime. Don’t make me arrest you.”

Now this was just plain awkward. She couldn’t figure any way out but honesty. “You’re right. I was flirting—and I never flirt—and I absolutely should not have flirted with you just now. It’s my bad. I apologize.”

“I refuse to accept.” Reaching inside his jacket, the man pulled out his wallet and flicked it open, revealing a gold badge. “What’s it gonna be,” he asked, a slow grin spreading across his face, “coffee or cuffs?”

So he was one of the good guys—a detective. Like the ones who’d worked her father’s case with such dedication. Good to know her instincts had been right. But that didn’t change the fact that she was engaged. “You don’t understand. I’m meeting someone—my brother—and my fiance.”

“You’re engaged to your brother?”

“No, I…” Impossible as it seemed in the subfreezing temperature, heat crept up her neck and across her face. “Stop teasing. I said I was sorry.” She lifted her frigid hands to cool her cheeks.

The detective’s fingers slid around her left wrist, pulling her hand close for inspection. “The cheap bastard didn’t spring for a rock?”

Allowing herself a mere moment to enjoy the unexpected rush of pleasure that resulted from his fingertips grazing her skin, she tugged her hand free. “Oh, the bastard’s quite generous, the ring’s at home…this is all so new…and…”

“How new?”

“Edmond proposed last week.” She bit her lower lip. She shouldn’t be explaining herself to this man, good guy or no, but his interrogation technique was difficult to resist. His boldness was tempered with just the right touch of humor and there was a friendly encouragement in his tone.

Leaning in, he reached one arm out and settled his palm on the glass, half- caging her between his body and the door. His head bent low. “Edmond, I take it, is not an outlaw.”

She felt his breath warm her neck, drank in his scent—pine trees and salt. Low in her belly, muscles softened and ached. He was too close. Mashing her back against the door until its rigid contours poked her spine, she pushed him away. “I wish they’d open up.”

He clutched his heart. “Now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings.”

“I only meant I’m cold…you know, brrr chill,” she said, hoping he hadn’t noticed the unsettled tone in her voice.

“Sorry. I’ve got the manners of a polecat.” He knocked on the window and called out, “Nevaeh!”

“I already tried that. I’m afraid her earbud’s connected to her iPod.”

When he whistled a short riff from “Dem Bones”, Sky’s shoulders relaxed, and she found herself laughing for the second time in the space of five minutes. Skylar Novak…first flirting, and now laughing. Maybe for an encore she could mud-wrestle the guy. “You know Nevaeh?”

“Since she was knee high. This Edwin—”

“Edmond.”

“Proposed just last week, and you’re not sporting ice, checking out your left hand until you’re blind? You sure you’re a girl?”

“Not very PC, are you?”