Page 6 of The Hermit on the Hill

I tapped my thumb against my bare thigh. "Pining for me so hard you tracked me down here, even without my real name. How did you do that? Did you hire a private investigator?" I sure hoped not. I didn't want her knowing anything about me.

Her cheeks flamed red, the bright color creeping down her lovely neck. "My family lives in Catalpa Creek and…" She wove her fingers together. "I saw you when I was visiting."

I stepped closer against my better judgment. "A plausible story, but I don't buy it. If you'd been near me, if your eyes had been on me, I'd have felt it. There's no way I wouldn't have seen you, too."

Light flared in her big eyes, and she bit her bottom lip. "That can't be true, because I saw you."

I stalked toward her, and her back went ramrod straight. A grin lifted my lips, and a predatory instinct rose in me. I didn't know how she'd found me, didn't know why she wouldn't just come out and tell me the truth, but she wouldn't be blushing like a fire truck if she'd just happened to see me around town. "You don't want to admit all the sleepless nights you spent trying to track me down? Don't want to tell me you were so desperate to find me, to get another taste of me, that you spent your hard-earned money to hire the kind of private investigator who could—"

"Oh, please." She rolled her eyes. "The conference where we met is less than two miles from your house. It's hardly rocket science to figure out you live around here."

"You're lying."

"You don't know that." But she didn't meet my eyes and her cheeks were only getting redder. "You don't know me well enough to possibly be able to tell if I'm being dishonest."

I chuckled, having way too much fun. "I know how you taste when you come, professor. I know you don't try to hide your body when you're spread out before me. And I know you always look me in the eyes when you're talking to me, unless—"

"I saw your ass," she shouted, then slapped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes tight like she thought she could disappear if she wished hard enough.

I stopped, stunned and thoroughly confused. "You saw more than my ass, baby. What does that have to do with how you found me?"

She opened her pretty eyes. "My sister is May Reynolds. Your ass is on display at the art gallery in town."

Everything clicked into place and the pride, the damn cocky arrogance that filled me, was like an electric charge. "You remembered my ass so well you recognized it from a photo? The night wasn't memorable, huh?"

She squinched her eyes shut again, but didn't cover her mouth. "You have moles. In the shape of a constellation."

That gave me pause. "Really?" I twisted to see what the hell she was talking about, but I couldn't see any damn moles. Shit. Not what was important now. By the time I'd turned back to her, she was her normal color, all embarrassment gone from her expression.

"It stuck with me because it was so weird," she said. "Terrible sex and a constellation on your ass. Really all I remember."

I could no longer tell if she was lying, and I didn't like it. Didn't like this calm, unruffled version of her. She was hiding from me.

I tried to see past her facade, but she moved to my desk, and picked up one thing after another, snooping, maybe looking for a way to change the subject.

She ran a finger over my grandmother's journal. "This is amazing. I—"

"Don't touch that." My voice was calmer than I felt. If I'd learned anything about Jenna Reynolds during our one evening together, it was that she had unbounded curiosity. If she found out what I was doing, I'd never get rid of her.

Her smile slipped, and I hated myself for doing that to her. Damn it. This woman's fake smiles grated on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but her real smiles… Well, I felt shitty for destroying one of them.

She stepped away from my desk. "I was careful with it. If there's a chance I could see it or you could make me copies… It would be really helpful for my research."

"That's my grandmother's journal. Not an object for your research."

Thunder crashed hard enough to shake the house, lightning lit up the side yard, and a loud crack rent the air. I was across the room with my naked body wrapped around Jenna before I'd remembered to breathe. Every hair on my body stood on end and my skin tingled as though I'd been struck.

"I'm okay," Jenna said, her voice reedy thin.

Damn it, she was trembling like a leaf. Scared to death by the hellish storm.

"I've got you. Lightning never strikes the same place twice."

"That can't be true." She gripped my arms and rubbed her thumbs over my biceps. "There's no scientific reason lightning couldn't strike in the same place twice. I mean, statistically it would…"

Her breath warmed my cheek as she spoke, and I couldn't stop staring at her lips. She blinked up at me as though she'd forgotten what she'd been saying.

"You're a meteorologist, now?" I asked.

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