Suspicions. Cynthia Eden

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Suspicions - Cynthia  Eden

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handsome, strong—Mark. His blond hair was tousled, and the light shone behind him, glinting off his shoulders. Very broad and bare shoulders because he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Just a pair of low-slung jeans.

      “Ava?” He reached out to her. As always, he seemed warm. His touch chased away the chill she’d felt since she’d first climbed into her car and begun the drive that would take her from her place in Houston to Mark’s ranch in Austin. “What are you doing here?”

       I needed to see you. I had to talk with someone...with someone who wouldn’t think I was crazy.

      Those words wanted to tumble out of her mouth, but she was trying to play things cool and not come across as the insane one. At least, not right away. She knew there were plenty of folks who already thought she was nuts or, much worse, a cold-blooded killer.

      The rumors about her had persisted for years.

      But...Mark had never seemed to believe those stories. He’d always stood by Ava and her family.

      “I need your help,” she told him quietly. She looked over his shoulder, hoping that no one else was there. The ranch house was huge, sprawling, but normally his staff stayed in separate quarters. She really didn’t want anyone to overhear the confession she was about to make.

      He pulled her into the house and shut the door behind her. “Ava, I’ll give you anything you need.”

      Right. Because that was true-blue Mark. The guy who was always there to save the day. Or at least, that was the way she thought of him. Lately, though, her brothers had been acting differently when they spoke of Mark.

      Her brothers had been friends with Mark for her whole life. And she, well, she’d been the tagalong. The little girl who bounced after the boys. And who had always been in love with Mark Montgomery.

      Not that she’d ever told him that. Not him, not anyone.

      He kept his hand on her shoulder as they headed into his den. All of the lights were on in the place, and she saw a glass of wine sitting on the table.

       Wine. No shirt...

      Heat flooded her cheeks. “Do you have a...” Not a lover, please, not a lover! “Is someone here with you?”

      One brow shot up. “Jealous?”

      Wait, what? She shook her head. “I am so sorry. This—this was a mistake.” What had she been thinking? She’d just been scared and she’d run. But she hadn’t run back to her brothers because she couldn’t handle going to the McGuire ranch or...having them stare at her with pity in their eyes as they wondered if she’d finally cracked under the pressure of their parents’ murder.

       Poor, fragile Ava...she just couldn’t handle it anymore.

      She pulled away from him, spun on her heel and marched for the door.

      Mark stepped into her path. His arms crossed on that massive bare chest as he gazed at her. “I’m not letting you go now.” The words seemed to hold the edge of a threat. Or a promise?

      “Mark?”

      “I waited too long,” he murmured.

      She backed up a step.

      “No one else is here.” His voice was flat. “There is no girl waiting in my bedroom—if that’s what you’re thinking. There’s only...you.”

      All of the moisture seemed to dry up in her mouth. Her gaze slowly slid over him. The last time she’d seen him had been months ago. They’d been at the funeral of Austin police detective Shayne Townsend. She’d wanted to talk with Mark then, but her brothers had been determined to keep her away from him.

      Her brothers were keeping secrets from her.

      Only fair, really, because she’d been keeping plenty of secrets from them, too.

      Mark was a handsome man, powerful and commanding. He had high, slanting cheeks, a long, hard blade of a nose and lips that were...sexy. Sensual. She’d spent far too much time thinking about Mark’s lips over the years.

      He was big, easily a few inches over six foot, with those strong, broad shoulders that he’d used back in his high school football days. His skin was a sun-kissed gold, his eyes a dark blue. When he looked at her with those eyes, Ava sometimes felt as if he could see through her.

      But right then, Mark’s eyes held confusion and worry.

      “What are you doing here, Ava? I thought you were staying away.”

      Not from him, but from Austin and from the McGuire ranch because that place held too many painful memories for her. But when no place seemed safe, where were you supposed to go?

       He’s my haven.

      “Ava?”

      “I’m not crazy.”

      “I never said you were.” His hands dropped and he took a step toward her. “Never thought it, either.”

      Others had. How many times had she heard the whispers over the years?

       Is that her? Did she do it?

       They should have locked her up...

       She’s either crazy...or she’s a killer.

      Ava swallowed and lifted her chin. “Someone has been in my house.” The little one-bedroom cottage in Houston that she called home.

      “What?” Now a lethal fury had entered his voice.

      “He didn’t take anything. Nothing was broken, so I couldn’t really report it to the police. I just... I know someone has been inside.” It was the small things that had tipped her off to the intruder’s presence. Things that most people probably wouldn’t have noticed.

      A confused furrow appeared between Mark’s brows. He doesn’t believe me.

      “Pictures have been moved.” Now she spoke quickly, the words tumbling out as she tried to convince Mark that she was telling the truth. “Like someone picked them up, but put them back down in the wrong place.”

      His square jaw locked. He had a faint cleft in his chin. Something else that was sexy about him.

      “That’s not all,” she hurried to say because she knew the picture thing sounded flimsy. “My clothes were rearranged.” She felt the heat stain her cheeks. “He went through my dresser and...touched things. Moved them.” Her underwear. Her bras. He’d been in her closet, too. The clothes had been moved—pushed to either side just a few extra inches.

      At first she’d thought she was imagining all of these small things. But...then they kept adding up. And she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

      No, worse.

      Stalking her.

      Now

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