Dangerous Kiss (The Layton Family 1)

An awkward silence fell. Neither moved.

Baffled by the whole situation, she had no idea what to say or do or feel. She’d never gone from sex to shooting before. Hell, she’d never come on her desk before with someone she’d only known a few days and wouldn’t know for much longer. She needed to escape.

“Well then, I guess you’re heading back to Denver soon. Have a safe drive.” A cold brick settled on her heart. She had to get out of here before she started crying again. Hanging her head she trudged down the hallway toward the door. One problem. She had to get by him.

“No.” His firm voice halted her feet.

Her head popped up as her pulse increased. “No?”

He put the coffee down on an empty shelf. A frisson of sexual heat sparked between them. His body called out to her like a siren, luring her toward a dangerous and rocky coast. Afraid her heart would be broken on the shore, she kept her eyes lowered.

“You promised we’d talk later.” He trailed a finger down her cheek. “I thought you were the kind of woman who kept her word.”

Blinking back unwanted tears, she forced her wobbling lip to still before gazing up at him. It scared her how badly she wanted to spend even a little more time with him. A vague picture formed of what a future with Jake would be like. Coming home to him after closing Harvest for the night. Crawling into bed and snuggling up against his warm body. Ruthlessly, she tried to push away those thoughts but they lingered.

She should walk away now and make a clean break of it, but she couldn’t do it. Missing this time with Jake would haunt her. She’d recovered from a broken heart before, she could do it again. Probably.

Heat enveloped her fingers as she intertwined them with Jake’s. Her hand looked so small and fragile in his, like delicate china laid atop an oak table. They shouldn’t go together, but they did. “Let’s go.”

Jake delivered a soft kiss to the top of her head and dumped the paper coffee cups in a nearby trashcan. Together, they strolled out the door, hand-in-hand, into the gathering dusk.

Chapter Twelve

How is it that you own a restaurant and don’t cook?” Jake took a pan down from the overhead storage rack in Harvest’s kitchen. They’d ended up at the restaurant after a short detour to the Stop and Sip because of Claire’s barren refrigerator at home. After the day they’d had, he figured they could both use some comfort food.

“I ignore the recipe and add in a little of this and a little of that.” Claire shrugged. “When I’m in the kitchen I just can’t follow directions.” She handed him half a dozen eggs.

He snorted. “Yeah, no shock there.”

“Very funny.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her survey the ingredients on the metal prep table. Eggs. Bread. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Who didn’t like breakfast?

“You’re making French toast? And you mock me for not knowing how to cook?”

He raised an eyebrow. The girl talked enough smack to play in the NBA, but the give and take excited him, made him curious to find out what she’d say or do next. Until he’d met Claire, he didn’t realize how boring his dating life had been. The old man had been harping on him for years to look beyond the willowy blondes Jake had always dated, to find someone who had pluck and passion. His little fairy warrior didn’t have a passive bone in her delectable body.

He slipped his hand around her slender waist and pulled her to him until her back nestled against his chest. She snuggled in as he tucked her head under his chin. “Don’t knock the French toast ’til you’ve tried it.” She relaxed against him, molded herself to him. A perfect fit.

As if he’d been zapped with Viagra, he hardened instantly. He toyed with the thin, red spaghetti straps of her dress resting on her shoulders. He slid a finger under one, tracing its path across her warm, supple skin. He wanted to sweep the food off the prep table and eat her instead. As if reading his thoughts, her stomach growled its disapproval.

Damn.

He chuckled into her coconut-scented hair. The aroma launched a fantasy about lying on the beach next to her. Her string bikini would barely cover her heavy tits. A little paper umbrella would float in her Mai Tai. She’d wrap her luscious lips around the straw and suck while he rubbed sunscreen all over her decadent curves. It would be paradise.

Her stomach growled again, louder this time.

Reluctant to let go of the fantasy, he waited a beat before lifting his head. “Did you bring Onion with you?”

“Oh, shut up.” A flush rose above her neckline like a blinking neon sign declaring: Look here.

He squeezed her shoulders and laid a quick kiss on the top of her head, inhaling the tropics again. “Come on, go get me a bowl to whisk the eggs and I’ll satisfy your stomach. The rest, I’ll take care of later.”

“Yes, sir.” Claire winked at him. “Didn’t your mother teach you to treat the kitchen help with more care?”

A familiar ache squeezed his heart. He stared at the stainless steel prep table, not wanting her to see what ate at him. “No. She left when I was two. Haven’t talked to her since.”

Her small hand wrapped around his. “Jake, I’m sorry.”