She stepped into the tub and slowly immersed herself in the steamy, fragrant water. Almond. That was what she was smelling. She breathed deeply, sinking back against the cool porcelain.
The floor above her creaked. She could hear Garvin walking around. In a moment, she heard the water come on, presumably in his own bathroom. Did he know she was in the tub on the floor below? Even with Otto recuperating at the vet's, with a man suspected of two brutal murders having followed her and maybe having beaten up her dog, she could feel her body responding to the simple thought of Garvin MacCrae taking a shower. Warm water slid over her, swirled around her.
So much, she thought, for a calming bath.
Maybe almond was an aphrodisiac. She would have to ask Zoe.
She groaned. Distractions weren't going to work.
The telephone rang, such a surprise she jolted up and then back down again, sliding under the water, almost drowning herself. She came up gulping for air, her heart racing.
Otto. It was the vet calling to tell her he'd taken a turn for the worse.
Without thinking, she leaped from the tub, dripping water, skin pink from the heat. She snatched one of the huge, soft bath sheets and wrapped it around her, opening the door out into the hall.
"Garvin?"
No answer. He'd probably picked up an extension in his bedroom.
She crept to the bottom of the stairs. There was no light on in the first-floor hall, and the air felt even colder just out of her hot bath. But she didn't want Garvin to think she was unavailable to take a call.
"Garvin, I haven't gone to bed yet."
Of course, the call could be for him and have nothing to do with her or Otto. She glanced around, suddenly aware of her situation. Her towel was swept imperfectly around her, water was dripping off her onto the hardwood floor, and she was shivering, preciously close to being stark naked.
Perhaps, she thought, she should retreat back to the bathroom.
"Annie."
She went still, looked up at the top of the stairs. Garvin was silhouetted in the shadows. But she could see he had on a towel much smaller than hers, just wrapped around his waist.
"That was Cynthia." His voice was low, deep, penetrating the silence. "She wanted to know if everything was all right. She apologized for being so unpleasant tonight. I told her you'd had a break-in but didn't go into details."
Annie held her towel close. "I see. Thank you for telling me. I thought—I was worried it was about Otto."
"I know."
The length of stairs might not even have been between them. Annie felt his eyes on her, was aware of her bare shoulders, the water dripping from her hair into her towel. Garvin hadn't moved.
"Annie."
His quiet voice told her: he wouldn't come down unless she made it clear that was what she wanted. A lot had happened today. He wasn't going to take advantage of any vulnerability she might be feeling, any desperate need for closeness.
But she wanted him downstairs with her. Any resistance or any reluctance she'd had was gone. She couldn't even remember why she'd felt it. She was alone, and it was dark, and nothing seemed more right than having him there with her.
"Good night," he said. "Sleep well."
"No—wait."
He turned back, his eyes riveted on her. She could hear the rain lashing against the windows.
She let her towel drop just a little. "I'd like to be with you tonight, Garvin."
His gaze remained on her. "You're sure," he said.
She realized it wasn't a question, more an observation. She nodded. "I'm sure. Trust me. I'm getting cold standing here."
He started down the stairs. "I wouldn't want you to get cold."
As he reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze drifted to the damp, dark, curling hairs on his chest, his taut abdomen. She studied the line of his jaw, the softness of his mouth. The only light came from her bathroom, making his eyes difficult to read.
He smiled, touching a finger to her lips. "Feeling warmer?"
"As a matter of fact, I am."
Her towel had lowered steadily, not quite exposing her breasts, but his eyes were on hers, as if he were trying to see all the way into her soul. She took a shallow breath, more aware of herself than she ever had been. Every inch of her mind and body seemed open and revealed, not only to him but to herself. She had nothing to hide, not even how much she wanted him.
He trailed his fingertips into her damp hair, snared it up into his palm. "Oh, Annie," he whispered, raw and hoarse, and his mouth came down on hers in a searing kiss, erupting everything that had simmered between them for days into a rolling, uncontrollable boil. Sensations tore through her, her blood sizzled. She clung to him, her towel falling to her waist.
"Tell me this is right," he murmured into her mouth.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes." He drew back an instant, locked eyes with her. "Yes, it matters."