He doubted anyone but an android from the science fiction channel could type that fast. Jake got up, circled the desk and stopped directly behind Claire’s high-back office chair. The screen showed a mass of gibberish. Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn to look at him. He leaned down.
“That may be true, but I
’m still not going anywhere.” He twirled a strand of auburn hair, which had escaped from her loose bun. “I’m going to get the son of a bitch who hurt you.”
She grasped his hair-wrapped finger. He expected her to pull her hair away, but she didn’t.
“Is that the only reason you’re staying?”
Her breathy question made his nuts tighten. “It should be.” His concrete dick clearly didn’t agree. “But right now it’s not.”
He brushed his lips against the spot below her earlobe. She smelled of oranges and crisp snowfall at the same time, a sensual contradiction much like the woman herself. He meant to stop there, but couldn’t. He sucked on her earlobe, then nibbled down her neck and strung kisses across her shoulders.
“Jake,” Claire half moaned, half whispered as she stood up and turned to face him.
Their mouths melded together. His hands traveled up the outside of her smooth thighs and lifted her dress. He caressed her ass before he lifted her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. His hands on her butt locked her against his straining cock. She fit against him perfectly; it felt better than anything he’d ever experienced.
“Clarabell Anne Layton, you should count yourself lucky I’m not that so-called Voice of Doom Chris told me is after you. My Lord, here you are getting frisky.”
The shrill voice shocked his hands still.
Jake’s head shot up. A tall, middle-aged woman with fire-engine-red hair stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Bedazzled bull horns decorated her white T-shirt right above the words: Don’t mess with Texas…or me.
“I could’ve shot you dead before you’d even gotten your lips off that man.” She pressed her hand to her heart in a melodramatic fashion. “I failed as a mother. My child has no survival instinct.” She lowered her neon-yellow sunglasses to the upturned end of her nose. Her hostile gaze burned a hole through Jake. “And as for you, Mr. Hands-On-My-Baby’s-Behind, you’d better put my daughter down. Now.”
He did as told.
“Hi, Mom.” Claire bit her kiss-swollen bottom lip. “You made great time from Texas.”
Embarrassed heat burned from her toes to her ears as she looked at Glenda Layton. Of all the people to walk in on her and Jake, only the killer would have been worse.
“Mmm-hmm. Don’t you try to give me the business. I know all about what’s going on. Is this fella here to help protect your body or just molest it?”
“Mother!”
Jake’s hand rubbed the small of her back. The caress comforted her, lessening the mortification swamping her.
“Now, if I was your age and hadn’t met your dear father yet, I might agree to that second part myself.” Glenda gave Jake the once over. “He is cute, isn’t he?”
“This…” She waved her hands in the air. “This is just a fluke. It won’t be happening again.”
Jake stopped his hand’s calming circle, and slid it south. He squeezed her butt. Desire swept through her like a brushfire. She planted one of her heels onto Jake’s toes and ignored his strangled grunt.
Glenda had a small canary-yellow duffel bag on the floor next to her Keds. Claire lowered herself into her chair, her head aching.
“Mom, why do you have your overnight bag?” Unease crept up her spine. Please say it’s presents from Texas.
“I’m coming to stay with you, of course. I’ll be right next to you every moment of the day and night until Hank catches that murderer. Don’t you worry. Nobody messes with the Laytons. We conquer, we don’t cower.”
Claire loved her mother, but there was no way she could move in. The last time her mother spent the weekend, she came home to find her kitchen rearranged, her voicemails deleted and her calendar filled with blind dates. That could not happen again.
“No need for you to do that, Mrs. Layton. I’m watching out for Claire until all of this blows over.”
Claire flashed Jake a grateful smile. He winked in return.
“You that man from the security company who has Hank fit to be tied?” Glenda squared her jaw.
“Yes, ma’am, I guess so.” He walked around the desk and offered his hand.