Chapter 4
It wasn’t until one o’clock in the afternoon that Moriah became aware of KC moving around in his bedroom.
The toilet flushed and then the shower turned on, and she began to pace the kitchen floor.
Since she’d waited this long to talk to him, she guessed she could wait a little longer.
Once he finished washing up, she would advise him he had to leave and find another place to stay.
As she straightened up the already tidy kitchen, she tried to think of how she could kick him out without sounding as rude as she’d been earlier.
Undoubtedly, he wasn’t a man who would willingly take orders from her, so she would have to try and charm him.
After she’d recovered from his appearance and subsequent disappearance, during the middle of the night, she’d gone back to the bedroom she was using and threw on a pair of sweatpants with a matching zip-up jacket.
Then about an hour ago, she’d jumped in the shower and re-dressed into a large red T-shirt, which covered the gun she’d tucked into the back of the waistband of her jeans, and a pair of sneakers.
Her long hair was up in a loose ponytail, and her face was devoid of makeup.
She’d almost put on her usual eyeliner and blush but then reminded herself she wasn’t trying to attract KC.
In fact, she wanted to do the opposite. She wanted him out of there as soon as possible so that she could get some much-needed sleep.
And then, she would be able to plan her next move.
Moriah jumped a little as KC’s bedroom door swung open without warning.
While daydreaming, she hadn’t realized the shower had stopped.
Turning her back to the counter, she waited as he came down the hallway and entered the tiny kitchen off the main living room.
If she had thought the room wasn’t that big before, it got even smaller as the mountainous man filled it.
His wet hair was gleaming from the shower, and his face was now cleanly shaven.
She’d thought he would look less intimidating without the scruff but realized that wasn’t the case.
Just the man’s presence was nerve-racking as her body had an unwanted response to him.
Moisture pooled between her legs, and her nipples hardened, forcing her to cross her arms over them.
He’d donned another snug T-shirt, a gray one, and replaced his cargo pants with a pair of faded jeans, which were molded to his body in all the right places.
He was barefoot, and for a split second, Moriah wondered why she’d never noticed before that a man’s feet could be sexy.
She tore her eyes away from him, horrified at the direction her thoughts had taken.
KC barely glanced at her as he went straight to the cabinet above the coffee maker and grabbed a large mug. Her eyes flicked back to him and roamed over his broad shoulders and strong back. She tried her damnedest to keep her gaze above his waist but wasn’t successful.
Damn, he has a beautiful ass.
He poured himself some coffee before returning the glass pot to its holder, then pivoted to lean his hips against the counter and crossed his ankles.
And since she had been staring at his ass, she was now staring at his groin and the large bulge behind the denim.
Blushing, she turned away and tried to busy herself by wiping down the spotless table for two.
Taking a large gulp of the brew, he grimaced and said his first words of the day to her. “How the hell do you drink this stuff? It’s awful.”
Keeping her eyes averted, Moriah shrugged as she brushed invisible crumbs into her waiting hand. “Well, it’s been sitting there since 2:00 a.m.”
KC dumped the coffee from both the mug and carafe down the sink and set about making a new pot.
As it brewed, he rifled through the refrigerator and pantry, taking out what he needed, apparently making himself bacon, eggs, and toast. Moriah didn’t think this was the time to point out that he was eating her groceries.
If he was aware of her eyes following him around the room, he didn’t acknowledge it.
Finding a skillet and utensils with ease was further proof he was comfortable and familiar with the cottage.
She wondered if she should wait until he’d finished preparing his meal to ask him to leave or if she should take the plunge and start talking.
With his back to her, as he placed several slices of bacon into a skillet on the stove, KC put her dilemma on hold. “Are you hungry?”
She cleared her throat. “Uh, no, thanks. I ate earlier.”
He grunted in response and kept his eyes on his cooking. “So, do you have a name?”
Moriah hesitated a moment before making sure she gave him the fake name she had used for the past few weeks. She would change it again after she left Whisper anyway, and his uncle already knew her by the alias. “Maura Jennings.”
Removing the bacon and adding four eggs to the skillet, he then popped two pieces of bread into the nearby toaster. “Well, Maura Jennings, why don’t you tell me about yourself, hmm?”
She stared at him, wary of his questions. “Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . like . . . how come you’re renting my uncle’s place and why you threatened to shoot me with a 9mm last night?”
He still didn’t turn around, and Moriah stared at his muscular back, trying to think of an answer he would accept. “A single woman can never be too careful. The gun is for protection. You never know when some lunatic will break in at two o’clock in the morning.”
KC clearly heard the sarcasm she’d added with that last sentence.
He gave her a quick glance over his shoulder and then went back to making his breakfast. “I said it last night, and I’ll say it again.
I didn’t break in. I have a key. And last time I had a psych exam, they determined I wasn’t a lunatic . . . or so they told me.”
What? Was he fucking kidding her? Why the hell was he having psych exams? Maybe she should have called the police.
He put the sunny-side-up eggs next to the bacon on a plate, added the buttered toast, and then carried his meal to the small bistro set in the corner of the room.
As he sat, his gaze flashed toward her, and a smirk spread across his face when he saw her eyes and mouth were wide open while she stared at him.
“That was a joke, Maura. I’m in the military.
My job requires me to go through a psych exam every once in a while. ”
Relief washed over her. Closing her mouth, she felt her shoulders relax a tad. “Oh. Okay.”
She leaned against the counter by the sink and studied him as he ate. His jaw tightened and relaxed as he chewed. Muscular arms rippled as he moved the fork from the plate to his mouth and back again.
And, oh, what a mouth it was. His lips were both hard and soft looking, and Moriah wondered what it would be like to be kissed by lips like his.
She bet he was a talented kisser. The man was fucking gorgeous, and there was no way he hadn’t worked his way through hundreds of women over the years.
She was curious what his face would look like if those exquisite lips ever turned up into a real smile.
Suddenly conscious of ogling him, Moriah cleared her throat again. “So, is your name C-a-s-e-y or K-C?”
“It’s K-C, as in Kevin Christopher.” At her raised eyebrow, he added, “Nobody’s called me by my full name since I was a kid, and then, only when I was in trouble.”
She tilted her head in curiosity. “Were you in trouble a lot as a kid?”
“That’s putting it mildly.” He pointed his fork at her. “But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”
Moriah gave him what she hoped appeared to be a bored shrug of her shoulders. “What’s to talk about? I needed a place to stay, and your uncle was kind enough to rent me his house.”
After finishing the bacon and eggs, he soaked up the remaining yolks with his toast. “Where’re you from?”
“Los Angeles,” she lied. Why was he so damn inquisitive?
Swallowing the last of his breakfast, KC raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s odd. You don’t have a west-coast accent. More like from the middle states.”
Dropping her gaze to the floor to hide her astonishment at being caught in a fib, Moriah shrugged again. “Well, my family moved around a lot. I didn’t even know I had an accent.”
He stared at her for a few moments, and she fought the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. If he suspected she was lying further, he let it go for now. “So, how did you end up in our little town of Whisper, and where did you meet my uncle?”
At least this part of what she was willing to tell him was true. “I’ve been traveling around a lot and ended up at the Walmart over in Elizabeth City. Your uncle noticed me looking at apartment rentals posted on the bulletin board and offered to rent me this place.”
Dan Malone had approached her to see if she needed any assistance.
He said she seemed “lost.” Not trusting a male stranger, Moriah started to walk away from him but stopped when he mentioned a house available for cheap rent.
Still skeptical, she took his proffered driver’s license and cell phone.
He instructed her to call information for the Dare County Sheriff’s Department phone number and then ask for the sheriff or one of his office staff to verify his identity.
Mary Schreiber, the secretary, had confirmed Dan Malone was a good friend of the sheriff’s, an upstanding citizen, and he did, indeed, own an empty beach house.
She’d also said Dan was a kind man who was always helping those in need and could be thoroughly trusted.
With the glowing endorsement and no better options, despite the man being friends with the local sheriff, Moriah took him up on his offer to rent his cottage.
He even allowed her to hold his cell phone when he realized she didn’t have one until they arrived at the beach house just so she would feel safer.
Moriah knew she was crazy to trust someone she didn’t know, but there was something in Dan Malone’s soft, brown eyes that convinced her he was one of the good guys in life.
And Lord knew she hadn’t met many of them.
“Yeah, that sounds like Uncle Dan. He’s always bringing in strays.” At her insulted expression, he added, “No offense.”
“None taken,” she mumbled. She didn’t mention the comment struck a chord in her. A “stray” was kind of close to how she felt—all alone in the world, moving from place to place, just trying to survive.
Picking up his plate, KC rinsed it off and placed it into the dishwasher along with the fork and knife. He cleaned, dried, and put away the skillet and spatula he’d used and then wiped down the cooking area with expertise.
As he finished his chores, she put an expectant look on her face. “So, you’ll be leaving now?”
He spun around slowly, crossed his muscular arms over his equally powerful chest, and leaned his hips against the counter. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, um . . .” she stuttered as she mirrored the position of his arms and cocked her hip. Be firm. “You can’t stay here. I paid Mr. Malone my rent, and I don’t want or need a housemate.”
His narrowed eyes seemed to smolder as they briefly dropped to her ample chest, which had been thrust upward with her annoyed stance. “What do you want then?”
Moriah’s mouth dropped open again, stunned at the suggestiveness in his tone, but after several moments of silence, he shook his head as if clearing his mind.
He straightened and brought his gaze back to her face.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll talk to Uncle Dan and ask if I can crash on his couch.
It shouldn’t be any problem, although it’s not as comfortable as my bed here. ”
She nodded but continued to gape at him as he exited the kitchen.
A few moments later, with his sneakers on and keys in hand, KC left without saying another word.
It would be another ten minutes before Moriah realized he’d left the rest of his things in the smaller bedroom.
She wasn’t sure if she was upset or pleased to know he would have to return for them. And the indecision worried her.