milk and butter.
“I’m sure the benefits of sharing a home with you would outweigh any drawbacks.”
Lynne shook her head, crossing toward the stove. “Doubtful.”
Passing by Kir, she wasn’t prepared for him to reach out and swing her toward him. She tilted back her head, her heart missing a beat as he leaned down to press a kiss against her lips.
It was soft. Like a question. Then, when she didn’t pull away, he grasped her hips and deepened the kiss. A welcome warmth poured through her, chasing away the lingering chill.
Lynne trembled, instinctively swaying toward his hard body. It wasn’t until she felt the carton of milk press against her stomach that she recalled what she was supposed to be doing.
“Breakfast,” she muttered.
“In bed?” he whispered against her lips.
The image of lying naked in the arms of this man was terrifyingly easy to summon. Lynne didn’t have to guess why. It’d been nestled in the back of her mind, just waiting for the opportunity to consume her thoughts. But she’d just been brutally reminded by Nash’s treachery that her ability to choose lovers sucked. Perhaps tumbling into bed with a man who was going to disappear from Pike at any moment wouldn’t be her brightest decision.
With an effort, she forced herself to take a step back. “Don’t push your luck.”
“I just thought I would throw the suggestion out there.” He grinned. “What can I do?”
More flustered than she wanted to admit, Lynne turned to stack the ingredients on the stove before waving her hand toward the counter across the room. “The coffeemaker is over there. I’m dying for a cup.” She recalled her unexpectedly early morning. “Or six,” she added.
“Ah. Coffee is my specialty.” He headed in the direction she pointed.
Lynne bent down to pull out a skillet. “Everything is your specialty.”
“I’m a talented guy.” He ignored her snort at his arrogance, planting his hands flat on the counter as he suddenly leaned forward to peer out the window. “What’s that?”
Lynne frowned, crossing to join him. If it was Nash again, she was going to get a restraining order against him.
The horse’s patootie.
Standing next to Kir, she searched for any sign of her ex-boyfriend. What she saw was a lot of snow, her utility shed, the empty alleyway, and Mrs. Norris’s black cat.
“You mean Tyne Daly?” she asked, her gaze on the cat as it leaped from her picnic table to the nearby tree.
“No. On your shed.”
Her attention shifted to the long metal building where she kept her gardening supplies along with her lawnmower and a snowmobile for the times her truck couldn’t make it to an emergency call.
It took her a minute to locate what had captured his attention.
“It looks like a piece of paper is stuck,” she said, watching the object flutter in the stiff breeze.
“I’ll check it out.”
Kir was moving before she could protest, heading out the back door and tromping through the snow. Lynne hurried to the door he’d left open, watching as he reached the shed and yanked the paper off the small hook she used to hang the hummingbird feeder.
He glanced down, and even at a distance she could see him stiffen.
“Kir?” she called out. “What is it?”
He lifted his head, his expression hard. “Call the sheriff.”
* * *
Kir finished his search of the shed and garage before he returned to the house. Lynne was just placing her cell phone on the table when he entered the kitchen.
Her face was pale, but she held her chin high. She’d displayed the same courage when he’d brought in the enlarged photo of her that had been dangling from a small hook on the shed. The black-and-white photo had been a close-up of her face. She’d been asleep, with a few wispy strands of hair brushing her cheek. The image had been unnerving enough, but someone had altered the photo to look as if there was a red ribbon tied around her neck.
The threat was unmistakable.
Enraged, Kir had forced himself to focus on ensuring there were no other unpleasant surprises hidden outside. He had to keep busy. If he allowed himself time to dwell on the horrifying realization that the killer had snuck into Lynne’s bedroom and stood there watching as she slept while he indulged in his evil fantasies, he wouldn’t be able to function.
And right now, being able to function had never been more important.
Blowing on his frozen hands, he moved to stand directly in front of Lynne. “Well?” he demanded.
“I talked to Anthony,” she told