He slid a bra strap from her shoulder and bent to press a kiss to her shoulder. A moan tore from his throat as his hands freed the clasp of her bra.
“Da-gee, Da-gee,” Pearl sang. “Sing sing Da-gee.”
Click froze. “No,” he groaned softly, burying his face against her throat.
She blew out a shaky breath, her body trembling. No was right. She craved this, hungered for him. It had been so long. Her need was all-consuming. His hands brushed down her sides, teasing her tightly strung nerves.
His gaze swept over her face, lingering on her parted lips.
She shook her head, his hunger pulling her back in. “Stop.”
“I can’t,” he said, tracing her lower lip. He leaned forward, his openmouthed kiss too good.
“Da-gee da-gee Ba-shee,” Pearl sang. “Da da, Da da.”
Tandy stepped away from him, crossing her arms over her chest and holding her bra in place. “I’ll get her,” she said, staring at his towel. “You might want another shower. A cold one.”
There was something incredibly satisfying about his state of arousal. He wanted her. Seeing that look on his face, the way he struggled with self-control, was empowering and humbling. “Click?” she whispered.
“Going,” he said. And with a shake of his head, he headed back into the bathroom. She smiled as the shower came on. Once she was dressed, she opened the bedroom door and smiled at Pearl.
“Ta-dee, Ta-dee, Ta-dee,” Pearl sang happily. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she answered. “Sleep well, snuggle bunny?” she asked. She scooped her out of her crib, changed her diaper and followed her down the hallway into the parlor.
“Da da?” Pearl asked.
“In the shower,” she said, smiling. “Thirsty? Want a drink?”
Pearl nodded. “Peez.”
Tandy headed into the kitchen for a sippy cup. The notepad was on the kitchen table, so Tandy carried it back to its place by the phone. But Click’s note made her pause. She swallowed, the bold script making the words ominous.
A name—Georgia Miles—and a phone number.
Below it, he’d written Kevin Glenn and a question. Does he handle custody cases?
* * *
CLICK WATCHED HIS daughter make the rounds. She’d started with Tandy, chattering away with her and Scarlett. When she took a board book to Evelyn Boone and climbed into her lap, he could tell she’d won the woman over. His daughter called her Ev and kissed her on the cheek, thanking the woman for reading to her. While Click couldn’t help feeling suspicious of the woman, he was willing to reconsider his original assessment—for Pearl.
Pearl. His daughter. Her sweet, easy nature was impossible to ignore. She was special, something to protect. Something worth fighting for, if it came down to it. His phone call with Georgia had been brief, timed, but it had rocked him to the core. He’d sort of hoped she’d disappeared. Turns out, she was planning to come see them.
“She’s quite the charmer,” Woodrow Boone said, accepting the coffee Scarlett was handing out. “My grandson Cal is the same. Smart, too—maybe too smart for a boy his age. Boy should get out more, scrape his knees and get his hands dirty now and then.”
“Dad.” Scarlett frowned. “Be nice.”
Woodrow took a sip of his coffee and frowned right back at her. “I’m stating a fact. Not being mean.”
Scarlett shrugged and returned to her spot by Tandy on the floor, one of Pearl’s puzzles spread out on the throw rug. It was almost normal, almost like a family... Except for the way Woodrow Boone had been watching him all night. The older man was sizing him up, plain and simple. The only exception had been when Pearl was involved. Woodrow, like his wife, was smitten with his little daughter.
“Who does Cal belong to?” he asked, hoping to keep conversation somewhat neutral. Click had spent some time with the rest of Woodrow’s children, but Scarlett was the only one he was close to.
“Cal is India’s boy. Don’t know if you remember my son Deacon?” He shook his head. “He’s been helping my brother Teddy out a bit, in Stonewall Crossing. He lost his two daughters and his wife. Eighteen-wheeler accident. Damn driver was on drugs.” The grief on the older man’s face was masked quickly. “I keep telling Deacon to move on. Kelsey, his dear departed wife, wouldn’t want him moping and being alone. She was a spitfire, that one.”
Click couldn’t think of a thing to say to that. Woodrow Boone would probably be a lot like his sister—Tandy’s mother—Susan when it came to doling out advice and support to their kids. But, to give Woodrow some credit, he lacked the bitterness that hardened his sister. Susan Boone was a piece of work, in a class by herself. He didn’t know what made the older woman that way, and he stopped caring when her sour moods and judgmental opinions hurt Tandy. Where Susan was intentional, Woodrow was just clueless. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Woodrow looked at him then, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Part of life, it seems. Losing folks you care about. Your aunt was a good woman.”