Chapter Thirteen #2
When he reached the beach, he started at a steady pace along the packed sand, the early morning air filling his lungs as the rhythmic crash of the surf kept time beside him. The energy riding through him had nothing to do with the run and everything to do with the woman he’d left in his bed.
Thoughts of her came back strong—her warmth, her taste, how she’d responded to him once she’d stopped holding back.
Maura wasn’t the type to fall into something like that lightly. He’d seen it in her hesitation, in the way she watched him, like she was still deciding whether to trust what was happening between them.
And last night, she had trusted it, and that mattered more than he wanted to examine too closely.
He swiped a hand across his brow, trying to clear his mind before his thoughts circled back again.
It was pointless—he wasn’t getting her out of his head anytime soon.
An hour later, he made his way back, slowing as the house came into view. Brian was exactly where he’d left him.
His brother tossed him the towel. “Your lady friend hasn’t come out yet. Is she too... ahem... worn out to join us?”
KC glared at him as he dragged the towel over his face. “Watch it.”
Leaning back in his chair, Brian propped his feet up on another one. “So, tell me about this mystery woman Uncle Dan rented the house to.”
He wiped the back of his neck and shrugged, keeping his tone even. “No mystery. Maura was in a bad situation. When she’d had enough, she left. She’s lying low and doesn’t want any trouble finding her. Dan felt sorry for her and offered the place.”
“Uh-huh.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “Come on. You know him—always bringing home strays.”
Brian tilted his head, conceding a little. “Of course. But this is the first time you ever got involved with one of those strays.”
His eyes narrowed. “I won’t deny I’m attracted to her, but I’ve only known her for less than a week. Who knows where this is headed? For now, I’m enjoying myself, and so is she. No harm, no foul. So back off.”
Hands went up in surrender. “Okay, bro. I just don’t want you getting pulled into someone else’s problems.”
He glanced toward the house, his expression tightening a fraction before he looked back at his brother. “She left those behind.”
The door behind him opened, and both he and Brian turned as Maura stepped out onto the deck, clearly unaware she’d walked into company.
KC’s mouth curved as he took her in—slightly rumpled, hair tousled from sleep—but she looked rested. Comfortable. And far too tempting for his peace of mind. A pair of black sweatpants and a gray T-shirt did nothing to hide the fact that she’d just rolled out of his bed.
He dragged his gaze back up before it lingered too long. Brian didn’t need the visual, and more importantly, Maura didn’t need the attention.
When she spotted his brother, her step slowed, her easy smile faltering enough to notice.
Both men stood.
“Brian, this is Maura Jennings,” KC said, keeping his tone easy, giving her a second to adjust. “Maura, this is my brother Brian. He’s a special agent with the State Bureau of Investigation out of Elizabeth City. Lives about forty minutes away in Camden.”
At the mention of his job, Maura’s color drained for a split second before she pulled it back under control. KC kept talking like nothing had happened. However, Brian didn’t miss it. He rarely missed anything, and that flicker of reaction tightened his focus on her.
He stepped closer and offered his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
There was a hesitation—long enough to register—before she took it. “Nice to meet you too.”
Her grip was light. Too light. And when she pulled back, it wasn’t gradual. Instead, it was abrupt, as if she needed to put space between them as quickly as possible.
He let her go, filing the information away, as she turned toward KC with a smile that seemed almost forced. “I’m going to make some coffee—do you want some?”
Brian cut in before his brother could answer. “I’ve got it. You two sit.” He nodded toward the paper bag on the table. “I brought breakfast—bagels and cream cheese. I’ll grab plates, napkins, and the coffee.”
He didn’t wait for permission. Better to move while her guard was still unsettled.
Inside the house, he set the coffeemaker without hesitation, his focus still on Maura. The kitchen was neat. Counters clear. Sink empty. No mail, no keys, nothing casually left behind. Like she’d made a point of keeping her footprint small.
He opened a cabinet, pulled down plates, then grabbed knives and napkins, arranging everything on a tray. The coffeemaker gurgled to life behind him, filling the quiet with a steady, familiar sound.
His gaze moved again, slower this time, more deliberate.
Nothing out of place.
Nothing personal.
And nothing that tied her here.
He crossed the room, quick and efficient, and opened the purse just enough to find what he needed. Wallet. ID.
“Moriah Jensen,” he murmured to himself.
The Illinois driver’s license held Maura’s face, no question there. Same eyes. Same mouth.
But Maura wasn’t her name.
And people didn’t use an alias for harmless reasons.
His jaw tightened as he took in the rest—her address and date of birth—then pulled his phone from his pocket and snapped a quick picture of the license before sliding the wallet back into place, leaving everything exactly as he’d found it.
Returning to the kitchen, he poured two cups of coffee and set them on the tray with milk and sugar. With a neutral expression, he picked up the tray and headed for the porch door.