If You Hear Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense Read Free Page B

dark red and gleaming under soft lights, was short. The ends curled under, framing a narrow, feline face and a wide mobile mouth that just about screamed S-E-X.
    Her skin was pale and creamy, the kind of skin that either got slathered with sunscreen religiously or just never saw the sun. Tall—he pegged her at 5′9″ and most of it was probably leg.
    Damn. She was definitely something worth looking at, too. Actually, she was probably the best thing he’d looked at in quite a while. Did she live here? He didn’t remember ever seeing her during his infrequent visits in the years before Grandma died, but granted, he hadn’t left the house that much except to go fishing or take her to church.
    He heard that weird clacking again and glanced down. That was when he saw the dog. A big, beautiful yellow retriever—wearing a rather distinctive vest. The dog walked alongside the woman, keeping pace with her perfectly, and with each step, his nails clacked on the hardwood floor. The redhead walked as she stood—looking neither left, nor right, shoulders back, chin up.
    Blind.
    Ezra frowned, watching her every step as she neared the bar.
    “Hi, Paul. How’s it going?”
    “Going just fine, Lena. You want a drink while you wait for Carter?”
    She reached out a hand, brushed it against the back of one chair at the bar. “Yeah. Rum and Diet Coke, I guess.” With a slow, easy grace, she settled in the chair.
    Ezra found himself staring at her mouth.
    Staring … and wondering how she’d taste.
    Her head turned toward him, cocked to the side. “Hello?”
    “Ahhh … hey.”
    The bartender glanced at him, grinned. “She’s got ears like a bloodhound.”
    The woman made a face at the bartender. “I do not. I just felt somebody looking at me.” A faint smile curled her lips. “Apparently he’s never seen a blind woman.”
    “It’s not that,” Ezra said, scowling, a little disgusted at the way she talked about him like he wasn’t there.
    She shifted in her seat, turning to face him. She rested an arm against the gleaming wood of the bar and cocked a brow. “Okay, so if it’s not me, perhaps it’s Puck.”
    “Puck?”
    “Puck.” The dog at her feet perked his ears and lifted his head. “My dog. Sometimes people don’t like seeing him in restaurants.”
    “Gotcha. No, it’s not your dog. Nice-looking animal, but no. And unless he starts trying to eat my food, I’m not worried about him being here.”
    He had the sexiest damn voice
, Lena thought.
Sexiest voice … and he was still staring at her, too
.
    She could tell, all but feel the warmth of his gaze. Feel it, almost like a ray of light traveling over her body, leaving seductive warmth in its wake. She fought the urge to squirm in the chair, settled for petting Puck. Normally, she’d have the dog lying at her feet, but right now, she needed the comfort of touching him.
    “Well, if you’re going to keep staring at me, then maybe you should introduce yourself.”
    “Ezra King. And you are …?”
    She held out her hand. “Lena. Lena Riddle.”
    A warm, rough palm pressed against hers. Strong. Callused, like he spent a lot of time working with his hands. His skin didn’t have the crepey feel of an older person. Damn, better and better. Her libido was going to be hard to control here in a minute, especially if he kept staring at her.
    “So, Ezra King, why are you staring at me?”
    “Because you’re beautiful.”
    Lena didn’t blush often. She rarely felt self-conscious. But in that moment, she could feel the rush of blood to her cheeks and she had to fight the urge to squirm around on her seat and fidget.
    “Ahhh. Well, thank you.” Behind her, she heard the squeak as the kitchen doors opened and she could have heaved a sigh of relief.
    “Here you go, Lena.” Mike, the assistant chef, set down her lasagna. Her mouth watered at the smell.
    “Thanks, Mike.”
    “Sir, you had the wings?”
    “Yeah.”
    As Mike retreated into the kitchen, Ezra