Page 12 of Condemned By Secrets

The words felt more like an insult than a compliment. “Thanks?” she scoffed.

Luther chuckled. “I guess that didn’t sound that flattering, did it? But I meant you look good, Anna, really good.”

Before she knew what was happening, the smile left his voice, and he closed the distance between them. The silver of his eyes turned molten and seared her, melding her to the spot.

“Good enough to eat.” She stared, transfixed, as he lifted a hand to her face with practiced ease and brushed his thumb across her bottom lip.

The rough feel of it against her skin made her suck in a sharp breath. The heat flashed in his gaze and arrowed straight to her core.What is he doing to me?

“You know, your lips remind me of ripe strawberries.”

Anna blinked in confusion.Strawberries?

When Luther bent down, she had to force herself not to lean into him. His mouth hovered above hers, and she felt his next words as much as she heard them. “Can I taste them?”

“Wh-whaat?” Anna stuttered in surprise.

“I want to kiss you, Anna.”

Her brain had turned to mush, but her body responded instinctively. The walls she’d built went up as fear overtook the desire fogging her thoughts. She stepped back, breaking the contact. “No.”

Luther frowned at her. Was it any wonder? He probably wasn’t used to hearing that word.

“Anna—”

“Ah! There you two are. Come eat dinner. The meatloaf’s getting cold.” Janet came through from the direction of the kitchen and cut off whatever Luther had been going to say.

Anna was glad of the interruption, except she might have bolted and skipped the whole thing if his mother hadn’t shown up. Now she’d be forced to sit through the meal with him after that . . . uncomfortable prelude. Ignoring Luther, she smiled at Janet. “Thank you for having me.”

Janet was short like Anna, and her round face glowed with warmth. She smiled and clasped her hands together. “Of course! I’m delighted you’re joining us. It’s quite a treat for me. I don’t usually get to see this one”—she thumbed a hand at Luther, who was still frowning in Anna’s direction—“nearly enough.”

Luther finally stopped staring at her and answered his mother with a grin. “What! I’m here every week.”

Janet smiled at her son, and Anna couldn’t help when the corners of her own mouth lifted at the sight. It was clear his mother was very fond of him, and they seemed close. “Pfft.” She waved her hands toward the kitchen. “Let’s eat before it’s only good for cold meatloaf sandwiches.”

Anna hadn’t entered the kitchen at the bed and breakfast before, and when she did, she was surprised at how normal it looked. She’d been expecting something in line with a commercial restaurant, but instead, the kitchen was homey. It was much more modern than the rest of the house, with dark granite countertops, a matching tile backsplash, and cabinets in a contrasting light cream color. But what struck her was the smell. As soon as she’d entered, it had hit her, making her stomach growl. The mouthwatering scents of cooked onion and tomato lingered in the air. “It smells amazing.”

“Thank you.” Janet gestured to a round dining table in the kitchen’s eat-in area. “Have a seat.”

Anna paused, surprised. Luther had pulled a chair back for her. She stubbornly didn’t want to take the seat he offered, but she also didn’t want to cause a scene. After a prim “thanks”, she sat down.

Luther took the seat directly across from her, and she looked away, annoyed he’d put her in this position, literally and figuratively.

Anna was thankful Janet appeared and placed a carving tray piled with meatloaf on the table. “Here we are. I’ve just got to get the sides.”

Luther popped up at that. “Sorry, Mom. I should be helping.”

She waved him back into his seat. “No, I’ve got it. Go ahead and dig in before it gets any colder.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Janet walked back to the counter for the mashed potatoes and green beans while Luther served himself a slice of meatloaf.

He held his hand out to Anna for her plate, and she hesitated. She was capable of serving herself. She didn’t needhishelp. “I can do it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m trying to be polite here, Anna. Give me your plate.”

“No.” Maybe it was childish, but she was starting to like using that word on him.

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