In a Heartbeat by Rita Herron Page A

same time, his masculine energy radiating through the room triggered her awareness of how much she’d missed having a man in her life. Of having someone to share a simple home-cooked dinner with. Someone besides Ruby. The older woman was a great friend and she loved her to death, but a female friend wasn’t the same as having a male in the house.
    Her nerves on edge, Lisa nearly chopped off the tip of her thumb with the knife as she began slicing the homemade bread. She hadn’t realized she’d shrieked out loud until Brad appeared beside her. Blood trickled from her thumb, and he grabbed a napkin and wrapped it around the wound.
    “Are you okay?” His eyes searched hers, deep, probing, silently referring to the emotional state, not just the cut.
    She nodded. “It’s not that deep.”
    Not like William’s bruises.
    The tension rattled between them, the sweltering heat making it worse.
    “You’d better clean that cut,” Brad said in a husky voice.
    She nodded, lifted the napkin, turned on the faucet and ran cold water over her finger.
    “Where are your Band-Aids?” Brad asked.
    She gestured toward a small cabinet above the stove, and he opened the door, retrieved the box, then ripped one open with his teeth. Her body tingled as he gently took her hand in his, wrapped the bandage around the tip of her finger and secured it.
    “Thank you.” She couldn’t drag her gaze from his wide, blunt fingers. Fingers that could pull a trigger and end a life, but which had been so gentle she imagined them running across her face. Then to her cheeks, her neck, and lower, down to her breasts…
    He was standing so close to her she inhaled his scent again, felt his breath on her hand as he checked the bandage. “You’re welcome.”
    Heat climbed her neck, then he swallowed, and released her finger.
    “Dinner’s ready.” A sudden breeze rattled the windows, mimicking the roaring of her heartbeat as she backed away. How was she going to feel when he left tonight? Bereft? Lonely?
    “It smells delicious,” Brad said, filling the awkward silence. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve eaten a home-cooked meal.”
    Lisa smiled, although it took every ounce of effort she could muster to make it look natural. “I hope you like it.”
    “Spaghetti’s my favorite dinner.”
    She’d remembered that but refrained from comment. “I…there’s wine if you’d like a glass.”
    “One glass,” he said with a shrug, then uncorked a bottle and poured them each some merlot.
    She ran her finger along the stem of the goblet to calm herself, while he tore into the food as if he needed to occupy his hands. Or maybe he hadn’t eaten in days.
    “Did you find out anything when you were on the phone?”
    He shook his head no, then paused and sipped the wine. “You said Hanks disappeared a few months after you met White. According to the college, he dropped out then. There’s no sign of him returning to school or transferring to another university.” Brad finished by relaying what little he’d learned from his partner and Rosberg.
    “Where did you learn to cook?” he asked suddenly.
    Lisa paused with her fork in midair, grateful he’d changed the subject. And what a relief to have a normal conversation.
    “From my nana.” She smiled at the memory. “She was my father’s mother, a short, wiry lady with soft gray hair and big green eyes. She stayed with us for a while after my mom died, when I was four.” She scooped up a bite of spaghetti and chewed it thoughtfully. “My father was working all the time, building his practice, was on call. But Nana loved to try new recipes, so I spent hours in the kitchen with her.” She sipped her wine, lost in the memory. “One year we made ten different kinds of Christmas cookies for a cookie swap. I’ve never eaten so many chocolate chips in all my life.”
    A slow smile spread across his face. “You sound very fond of her.”
    Her smile slipped slightly, and she swirled