Page 44 of Dead Girl Running

Kellen leaned back against the seat of the ATV and laughed so hard her sides hurt. “Nowthat’sthe dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“They bought it.”

“No. They didn’t. A superhero? I’m a superhero?”

“Adrian said that explained a lot, like how you got through that sabotage in Kuwait with only minor injuries.”

“Minor injuries, my ass. I had surgery on my shoulder. I was unconscious for two days. I was discharged!”

“You said you wanted something original, not the same old forbidden love and jealous husband story. So I went for it!”

“You’re an idiot.” Still smiling, Kellen bent back to her work.

Someone beat on the outer door.

Both women straightened.

Birdie click-released the safety on her pistol.

Kellen went to the door and looked through the camera, realized communications were down and looked through the peephole.

A bedraggled man stood there, and as she watched, he lifted his fist and pounded again.

“Nils Brooks,” Kellen whispered. Like a grain of sand beneath the shell she had so carefully built around her, she experienced a constant apprehension about him. Was the thing that niggled at her nothing more than a pair of gorgeous brown and possibly familiar eyes?

Birdie indicated Kellen should allow him in, but she didn’t lower the pistol.

Kellen shoved the door open and rapidly stepped aside.

Nils hurried in and dragged the door shut after him.

Birdie clicked the safety and slid her firearm into the holster and out of sight. “Mr. Brooks? What are you doing here?”

He faced them, his overcoat unbuttoned, his golf shirt and jeans dripping, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He pulled off his glasses and tried to dry them on his shirt, then realized it was impossible and slid them into his pocket. “Hi.” He gave a sheepish wave. “I had dinner in one of the restaurants, then listened to some music, then came out and got in the ATV… Now I’m lost. I can’t find my cottage, and I hope you don’t mind, but I saw your lights and hoped you could help me.”

The two women exchanged glances and did a mental rock/paper/scissors.

Birdie slid the Glock over to Kellen, stood and got him a towel. “Sure, come on in. It’s really coming down out there. Isn’t there rain gear on your ATV?”

He looked abashed and embarrassed. “Sure. Probably. I remember being told that. I forgot… I should have stayed in the cottage.” He took off his scarf and shook it, took off his overcoat and shook it. He presented a hapless facade, but those eyes… Kellen felt off-kilter when she looked at them, as if she’d fallen into a wormhole and whirled backward in time.

Ceecee. Ceecee. Where are you? Come back to me…

The voice whispered in her mind. She ignored it. “Nice coat.” Kellen watched his face.

Nils looked at his coat. “Itwas. It’s Burberry and wool. It’s supposed to be water-repellent. But it’s soaked.”

“Yeah…” Kellen nodded. “Guests usually bring raincoats.” Not the most tactful thing to say, but man. Talk about epic unpreparedness.

He tossed the coat over a hook, took the towel and rubbed his head.

The man looked slender until the rain plastered his clothes to his body. Then he showed off muscle definition he couldn’t have gotten from sitting behind a desk. Nice butt, long legs, corded shoulders. He even looked good in goose bumps. And those eyes…

Birdie stood behind him, and while he had the towel over his head, she pretended to feel him up.

Kellen grinned.

Of course, he whipped off the towel and both women had to fakenotbeing two sex-starved, lascivious females.