“We’re safe here,” he said, obviously misunderstanding the source of her nervousness.
She sipped the wine, found it deep and smoky with a hint of berry. Jake stepped close to her. She was about to step back when his hands went to the buttons on his shirt. Leigh’s face heated as he unbuttoned them. Never taking his eyes from hers, he eased the shirt from his shoulders.
It had been six years since she’d seen Jake Vanderpol’s naked chest. But she’d never forgotten the magnificence of it. His shoulders were as hard and wide as boulders. His pectoral muscles were well defined, his biceps rounded with muscle. A thatch of black hair covered his chest, tapering onto his wash-board abs.
Suddenly the cabin seemed too small for both of them. Leigh knew it was stupid, but she wanted to bolt, even though she fully realized this man had done nothing but protect her in the days they’d been together. Still she needed to get away from the knowing glint in his eyes. From the stark temptation of the body she’d never been able to get out of her system.
“I’ll watch the soup,” she blurted.
One side of his mouth hiked into a smile. “Don’t let it boil.”
When her face heated, he smiled and said, “The burner is temperamental. Gets too hot for comfort sometimes.”
All she could think was that when it came to Jake Vanderpol the stove wasn’t the only thing that got too hot for comfort.
Chapter Twelve
Leigh stirred the soup, but her mind was elsewhere. Four feet away to be exact. As much as she’d tried to keep her relationship with Jake impersonal—as fervently as she tried not to let the past get in the way of the present—she couldn’t stop herself from picturing him beneath the spray of the shower, his hands soaping the hard planes of the most magnificent male body she’d ever seen. She imagined those same callused male hands, slicked with soap and running over her own body.
“Soup’s about to boil over.”
She started at the sound of Jake’s voice right behind her. She looked down at the pan and sure enough the soup was boiling into froth.
“Damn,” she muttered.
Jake nudged her aside and expertly adjusted the burner. Leigh didn’t know why she was such a wreck. It wasn’t as if she was going to act on any of the impulses streaking through her brain. Jake had hurt her badly the last time she’d opened up to him. It had taken her a long time to get to the place where she was now.
She busied herself setting the table while Jake ladled soup into bowls. “I bought this from the diner in town,” he said.
It was the best soup Leigh had ever tasted. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until her bowl was empty and Jake was ladling more into it. The wine had settled her nerves, and she knew she couldn’t put off any longer what she’d been dreading.
“We need to find a way to stop Rasmussen,” she began. “We’re not going to be able to hide out here forever.”
“I checked in with Cutter when I drove into town.”
“What did he say?”
“They think Rasmussen has left the country.”
Leigh wanted to believe that, but she didn’t. She’d lived with Rasmussen for over a year; a fact that invariably shamed her. She knew he wasn’t the kind of man who gave up so easily. “Do you believe that?”
Jake’s gaze met hers. “Possibly. But if he has, he hasn’t gone far. Canada probably, where he’s still close enough to oversee his thugs and hunt for us.”
She swirled the soup with her spoon, her appetite waning. “Is MIDNIGHT going to continue searching for him?”
“Yes, but manpower is stretched thin. Agents in multiple federal agencies, multiple jurisdictions are scrambling due to the Witness Security Program being hacked.”
The thought of hundreds of terrified witnesses—some of them with families and children—under threat by different factions of organized crime sickened her. “Apprehending him isn’t a priority.”
“It is. But protecting those witnesses comes first. Cutter doesn’t have the kind of manpower he needs to get Rasmussen as quickly as I’d like.”
“Does that mean we’re on our own?”
“That means we need to lay low for a while.”
“I’ve been laying low for six years, Jake.” Restless and frustrated, Leigh rose and paced to the small window. The marina was quiet and deserted. Snow continued to fall. The scene should have been peaceful, but it wasn’t. “I’m tired of always having to look over my shoulder.”
“I know it’s been hard,” he said.
“I want my life back.”
She heard Jake rise. She tensed when he came over to her side and put his hands on her shoulders. How easy it would be to turn to him and take refuge in the strength of his arms. But after Rasmussen—after Jake—Leigh had promised herself no more mistakes.