don’t recognize her as a relative, maybe?”
“Sorry. I don’t look like anyone in my immediate or distant family that I know of. And before you ask, I’m not adopted.” She traced the woman’s face with her finger. “Why do you want her?”
Such apt words. The realization bothered him. Noah wanted both the painting and Lara. Sex was all well and good. Noah liked women. He didn’t crave anyone in particular. Until Lara. And this is why you need to get laid more often. See what a dry spell will do to you?
He took a long drink of water before answering. “The painting belongs to my client. It was stolen a year ago. My firm tracked it down, but when I went to pick it up, I learned it had been stolen again.”
“No kidding.”
He frowned. “No, I’m not kidding.”
“I wasn’t being literal. So you think it’s here in Brownville?”
“From what I’ve learned, yeah.”
“Well, I can tell you that no one’s said anything to me about it. The locals in town take care of each other, and though I’m still the new girl on the block, I’ve met all the shop owners. Trust me, Brownville thrives on gossip. If anyone had seen your painting, they would have come to tell me about it.” Lara traced the picture with a fingertip. “I’m stunned by how alike we look. It’s eerie.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I think she’s beautiful . He glanced from the picture to Lara, taken with the hidden depths in her eyes. She held so many secrets, and he had an insane urge to plumb the answers to each one.
At the thought, he clenched his jaw tight and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t have the patience for this nonsense. He was here to do a job. Period. Lack of sleep must have finally caught up to him.
“You okay?” Lara covered his hand on the table with her own. The minute they touched, he felt a spark rush through him—familiarity, need, desire.
“Just tired, I guess.” He refused to let her sever their touch and grabbed her hand when she would have withdrawn.
She froze.
He slowly turned her hand over and rubbed his thumb over her palm. The startled expression on her face turned to one of arousal, and it was all Noah could do to keep his calm. Every instinct he possessed demanded he take Lara back to the inn and possess her. Fuck her until she pleaded with him to stop, then pleaded with him not to.
He frowned, not liking this loss of control. He didn’t hurt women, not even when they begged him for it. Not anymore.
Oh, I’ll beg you for it, sugar. I promise.
Lara ripped her hand away and dug into her plate with sudden gusto.
Noah ignored the pounding of his heart and waited until Lara had relaxed. He finished his dinner, finally sated. In one way, at least. “That voice. I heard it before.” He studied her worried reaction, sure now she’d heard the same. More of the past seeping into the present, no doubt. But how the hell had Lara heard that? “You a psychic?”
“ What ?”
“A legitimate question. People out here see a lot of strange things.”
“Arizona’s like that, yeah. But I’m not psychic.” She wouldn’t look at him, but he could see the sense of unease she couldn’t quite hide. “I just, maybe… There are rumors a few places in town are haunted. I chalked up the odd talk to ghosts.”
“What kind of odd talk?”
“The—I don’t know.”
“Ghosts?”
She raised her gaze to his and glared. “This whole discussion is ridiculous.”
“Not to me. I need that painting. You look exactly like her.” He pointed to the picture. “And we both just heard a voice no one else did. Explain all that if you can.”
Lara withdrew a few bills from her jacket and tossed them on the table. “I need to get back to the inn. Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”
“We’re not done talking about this, Lara.” He watched her, wanting to know what drove her, scared her, aroused
“Sorry. I don’t look like anyone in my immediate or distant family that I know of. And before you ask, I’m not adopted.” She traced the woman’s face with her finger. “Why do you want her?”
Such apt words. The realization bothered him. Noah wanted both the painting and Lara. Sex was all well and good. Noah liked women. He didn’t crave anyone in particular. Until Lara. And this is why you need to get laid more often. See what a dry spell will do to you?
He took a long drink of water before answering. “The painting belongs to my client. It was stolen a year ago. My firm tracked it down, but when I went to pick it up, I learned it had been stolen again.”
“No kidding.”
He frowned. “No, I’m not kidding.”
“I wasn’t being literal. So you think it’s here in Brownville?”
“From what I’ve learned, yeah.”
“Well, I can tell you that no one’s said anything to me about it. The locals in town take care of each other, and though I’m still the new girl on the block, I’ve met all the shop owners. Trust me, Brownville thrives on gossip. If anyone had seen your painting, they would have come to tell me about it.” Lara traced the picture with a fingertip. “I’m stunned by how alike we look. It’s eerie.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I think she’s beautiful . He glanced from the picture to Lara, taken with the hidden depths in her eyes. She held so many secrets, and he had an insane urge to plumb the answers to each one.
At the thought, he clenched his jaw tight and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t have the patience for this nonsense. He was here to do a job. Period. Lack of sleep must have finally caught up to him.
“You okay?” Lara covered his hand on the table with her own. The minute they touched, he felt a spark rush through him—familiarity, need, desire.
“Just tired, I guess.” He refused to let her sever their touch and grabbed her hand when she would have withdrawn.
She froze.
He slowly turned her hand over and rubbed his thumb over her palm. The startled expression on her face turned to one of arousal, and it was all Noah could do to keep his calm. Every instinct he possessed demanded he take Lara back to the inn and possess her. Fuck her until she pleaded with him to stop, then pleaded with him not to.
He frowned, not liking this loss of control. He didn’t hurt women, not even when they begged him for it. Not anymore.
Oh, I’ll beg you for it, sugar. I promise.
Lara ripped her hand away and dug into her plate with sudden gusto.
Noah ignored the pounding of his heart and waited until Lara had relaxed. He finished his dinner, finally sated. In one way, at least. “That voice. I heard it before.” He studied her worried reaction, sure now she’d heard the same. More of the past seeping into the present, no doubt. But how the hell had Lara heard that? “You a psychic?”
“ What ?”
“A legitimate question. People out here see a lot of strange things.”
“Arizona’s like that, yeah. But I’m not psychic.” She wouldn’t look at him, but he could see the sense of unease she couldn’t quite hide. “I just, maybe… There are rumors a few places in town are haunted. I chalked up the odd talk to ghosts.”
“What kind of odd talk?”
“The—I don’t know.”
“Ghosts?”
She raised her gaze to his and glared. “This whole discussion is ridiculous.”
“Not to me. I need that painting. You look exactly like her.” He pointed to the picture. “And we both just heard a voice no one else did. Explain all that if you can.”
Lara withdrew a few bills from her jacket and tossed them on the table. “I need to get back to the inn. Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”
“We’re not done talking about this, Lara.” He watched her, wanting to know what drove her, scared her, aroused
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