The Dragon Marshal's Treasure (U.S. Marshal Shifters 1)

Jillian looked up at him. She loved how tall he was, how much it made her think about reaching up to put her hands on his shoulders. She would have to come up onto her toes if she wanted to lace her fingers together behind his neck.

“And what would they say you should do with this?”

“It’s yours,” Theo said. “I couldn’t take it.”

“That’s your job,” Jillian pointed out.

“No.” He put his hand on hers suddenly. “Not your things. Not Tiffani’s, either. Only your father’s.”

His hand was unbelievably hot. It was like she was holding her hands out to be warmed by a fire. It made her extra-aware of every nerve ending, extra-appreciative of the heat racing along her skin.

“I didn’t buy this, and neither did Tiffani.” She could feel her pulse race against his where their wrists were touching. “Come on. What would you do?”

“Keep it.” He let go of her hand only to trace one of the knitted lines, his finger always following the thread so that he never quite touched her bare skin. She shivered. “But not folded up in a closet. Not mixed in with sheets.”

“Some of these are Egyptian cotton.”

“It’s not the same. Expensive things aren’t as valuable as rarities, things like this that might all fall apart before the century’s over.” He sounded as if he thought easily in terms of centuries. “When it might not last, it’s a waste and a crime to hide it. But it deserves more than being made into a tablecloth or a curtain. It should be like you said. Victoria’s Secret.”

He took his hand away and she felt cold without him touching her. And all the colder because he’d made her feel so hot, flushed, and attentive there and everywhere else.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

She took a risk. “Flirt?”

He looked her over with a heartbreaking caution in his eyes, as if she would snatch herself away from him if he dared to say yes. She didn’t know why on earth she thought that, though. She doubted any woman had ever looked at those jewel-bright eyes and those strong arms and decided that flirting with him was a total no go. He couldn’t be used to rejection, so why look like he was worried about getting it from her of all people?

Then he smiled that knee-weakening smile.

“You caught me. I did mean to flirt. The lace helped.”

“I don’t think you needed it.”

“What I need is better timing.” He fitted one fingertip into one of the diamond-shaped spaces in the lace pattern where her arm showed through. He had a look of complete concentration, like he was trying to find his way through a maze. “Acknowledging the unprofessionalism and the terrible circumstances, would you consider having dinner with me?”

It was the best thing to happen to her in months, maybe even the only good thing to happen to her since her dad had taken off. She had no idea why a sexy, charming US Marshal would want to risk a reprimand and a hell of a lot of public scrutiny by attaching himself to someone as compromised as she was, but she wasn’t uns

elfish enough to say no. He didn’t look like he was confused about what he wanted, even if she didn’t understand why he wanted it. Why he wanted her.

“I’d love to,” she said.

Then she immediately felt like an idiot for saying “love” while arranging a first date. She was out of practice at this.

Theo’s smile was so wide she couldn’t believe he minded it. “Thank you.” He lifted her hand and then pressed his lips against it.

Shivers ran up and down Jillian’s body.

Part of the thrill was the sheer unlikeliness of it. He looked like Prince Charming, he spoke like Masterpiece Theater, and now he kissed her hand? She had always thought of herself as far more practical than romantic, but this all felt destined to prove her wrong. She could suddenly understand how people swooned.

But it wasn’t just the romanticism. She couldn’t pretend it was all that high-minded. The touch of his mouth to her hand made her want his lips elsewhere, too. Desire raced over her skin like lightning. Indecisive lightning striking first here and then there—did she want to kiss him, to taste him? Did she want to steer him around to the delicate skin on the inside of her wrist and then lead him up her arm and then to her breasts? Did she want to kiss his hand, too? Want to feel those calluses against her lips and imagine him leaving his fingerprints on her?

The slightest touch from him led her straight to mental debauchery.

Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t just mount him here in the hall. He asked for a date—he might not even be the kind of guy who goes right to the bedroom. Though I wish he were...

Which was funny, because she had always been slow to warm up that way. She’d always thought the third date rule made perfect, intuitive sense. With Theo, she hadn’t even known him three hours and she was already ready to go.

She decided to channel her practical streak. The sooner they finished up in the house, the sooner she could try to talk him into some really wanton unprofessionalism.