“Well, that’s all well and good because we aren’t sleeping together. We had sex. Once. And that’s it.”
At her challenge, his dark look became darker as anger clouded his features. “Don’t start throwing up walls that you know damn good and well I can knock down in thirty seconds flat.”
Was she that easy? What the hell? Did he think she was that easy?
“It’s been a week, Mr. McIntyre,” she challenged, using his surname to irritate him further. “I know you’re pulling my leg because there’s no way that two sane people would get married after knowing each other for a week.”
“Again, how the hell do you think we should handle the situation?”
When she opened her mouth to blast him out, he cut her off. “And don’t say anymore bullshit about us not sleeping together. It happened, it’s going to happen again, and it’s going to continue to happen.”
“Well, I think that’s where you’re wrong. You fired me, anyway.”
“You know damn good and well I didn’t fire you,” he said, his mouth flat. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Once we’re married, you won’t need a paying job.”
“Oh, great! Now I get it. You want slave labor and handy sex!”
“Handy sex?” he asked, his lips twisting into a satanic smile, as if she’d humored him.
“You know what I mean,” she answered.
“You’re blowing things out of proportion. We can’t be together in front of my son and you’re smart enough to realize that. There is no other option but marriage.”
“You’re dead wrong. First off—it isn’t going to happen again. And secondly, since you fired me already, I’m pretty damn sure I’m just going to mosey on down the road.”
His chair scraped back as he stood to his feet. “You’re not going anywhere, and stop tossing bullshit like that around.”
“I believe I can do as I please,” she stated, infusing southern honey into her voice.
Just as he began to take one step toward her, Zach surprised them both by walking into the room. The boy stalled in midstride and looked between the two of them before slowly asking, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, sweetie,” she answered quickly. “Do you want some breakfast?”
“Zach,” his father interrupted, “Take Hannah for a minute, okay? I need to speak to her mother.”
Zach looked between them again but obeyed his father. He started toward Janet who was still balancing the baby against her chest.
She stopped him in his tracks. “No, that’s okay, sweetie, I’ve got her. Your father and I don’t have anything more to discuss. Why don’t you fix your own breakfast this morning, sweetheart, okay? I’ve got things I need to do.” With that, she turned and walked from the room.
****
What the hell had she thrown in his face? That she could do as she pleased? Unfortunately, she could, and Jeff didn’t care for it in the slightest.
He was about to blow a fuse, but he had to contain his anger in front of his son. As soon as Janet left the room, though, Zach asked, “What the hell’s going on between the two of y’all?”
Well, goddammit. Was the tension so high in the atmosphere that even his son could feel it? “Nothing’s going on,” he said, trying not to snap.
Zach tipped up his chin. “Right,” he drawled as he turned and opened the refrigerator.
Jeff stood in contemplative silence as he watched his son pull milk from the fridge. The fact that his boy was old enough to recognize the sexual chemistry between the two adults in the house damn near floored him. He knew his kid was growing up and he damn well knew he was at an impressionable age, and it wasn’t like he’d been the world’s best father so far anyhow. So, that fact only confirmed to Jeff exactly what could and couldn’t go on in this house.
Hell, no, he didn’t think marrying Janet Smith was such a great idea. But what the hell other option did he have? It wasn’t as if he was going to leave her alone, not after the previous night. Not after he’d seen her naked flesh and buried himself inside her body. Even if he had to keep a mental distance between them, that didn’t mean he planned on keeping physical distance from her.
So, that left only one option in his mind. Marriage.
He just needed a goddamn license that gave him the right to sleep with the girl.
That’s all he needed.
The memory of her smart-mouthing him had his throat closing up with tension. She thought they weren’t going to sleep with each other again?
She damn well thought wrong.
Chapter Six
That night, after a halfway decent supper, Jeff cornered Janet in the kitchen while she was loading the dishwasher. He was intent on getting his own way, so he walked up behind her and crowded into her personal space. “Tonight, after you get Hannah down, come to my room.”
She stiffened, remaining facing away from him. “No.”
Son-of-a-bitch. “Yes.”
“No.”
Putting his hand to her shoulder, he spun her around. He took one step closer, until his hips were against hers. “You telling me you don’t want me? You telling me you’ve got no interest?”
If she’d agreed with him, then maybe he would have believed her. But that’s not what she did. She looked to the floor, her face filled with heat, and she began twisting the dishcloth in her hand, while remaining perfectly silent.
He lifted her chin with one finger and forced her eyes to meet his. She worked her bottom lip between her teeth and he couldn’t withstand the provocation. Knowing Zach was in the den playing video games only made the temptation worse.
His mouth dropped of its own accord and he kissed her, quick and hard. And son-of-a-bitch, she kissed him back. She did more than kiss him back, she pressed her entire body against his and fell into the kiss like a starving woman.
He gave her what they both wanted until the need for oxygen broke them apart. He leaned his forehead against hers, panting. “Come to my room.”
“I can’t,” she said in a miserable little tone that pacified him somewhat.
“Yes, you can.”
“We can’t do this. You said so yourself. Zach is at that age—we can’t do this in front of him.”
“So now you’re getting it, but the solution is simple. We go to the courthouse and get a license. Three days after that, the judge marries us. Simple. Man and wife. You move into my bedroom.”
“Jeff—”
His hands fell to her hips with a heated caress he couldn’t control. “Yeah?” he whispered, his mouth going to her hair, breathing her scent in through his nose and exhaling into her ear. Jesus, he needed to make her come. He wanted that more than he wanted to come himself, which somewhat stunned him. Over and over again, he wanted to feel her constrict around him in the throes of orgasm. But he had to stay in control—it was imperative that he stay in control. Why, exactly, he wasn’t sure.
She visibly trembled as he continued to run his hands over her hips, her fingers clenching into his biceps. “We can’t get married—it’s an insane idea. It would never work.”