One russet eyebrow arched. "How do you know I was talking about marrying a man? Maybe I was with a woman."
Now she was fucking with me. Not that she couldn't be a lesbian, but I'd felt that spark of interest, and it hadn't been in my personality. Looping my fingers around her wrist, I pulled her closer.
No resistance. Scarlett let me reel her in, her pink lips pressed together as she looked up at me, her wide green eyes flicking over my face. Dipping my head, I nuzzled the soft skin under her ear, breathing in the scent of peaches and warm female skin.
Lips pressing to the spot where her pulse beat a frantic rhythm, I tasted her rising tension. She wanted me. She might not choose to act on it, she might not like it, but she wanted me.
"This is a bad idea," she breathed. I waited for her to move away. When she didn't, I licked at the skin under my lips, sucking just enough for her to jolt against me but not hard enough to leave a bruise.
"It doesn't have to be a bad idea," I countered, wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her flush against me.
My lips brushed hers, feather-light, giving her time to draw away. She didn’t, tipping her face to mine, those pink lips parting a fraction. I took immediate advantage, kissing her again, tasting her, molding her soft curves to my body, claiming what I wanted.
Another few minutes and I would have missed the rap of knuckles on wood, the amused clearing of a throat. Fuck. Scarlett leapt back, might have tripped if I hadn't had a grip on her arm. I looked over to see Hawk watching us with an unexpected twinkle in his hard, dark eyes. Was that a smile on his face? Before I could be sure, the slight curve of his mouth was gone, and he was back to the very serious business of security.
"Am I interrupting? I'd come back later, but I have things to do. Griffen said you'd want a tracker."
Hawk approached, holding out a black band of fabric with a small box attached. It looked like a house arrest anklet. Turns out I wasn't far off. He reached us and I made introductions.
"Scarlett Hall, this is Hawk Bristol, the guy keeping us from being murdered in our sleep."
Scarlett stepped away from me smoothly as she held out her hand. "Hi, nice to meet the man keeping us alive."
Hawk gave a brief shake of her hand and held up the tracker. "This should be better than those cuffs. It's waterproof. Once it's on, I'll know if you try to take it off."
Scarlett's expression hardened. "Do I get a shock if I go over the boundary?" she asked, words dripping sarcasm. "I think I'd rather be cuffed than chipped like a dog."
"If I wanted you chipped, you'd never know." Hawk's flat tone made his words that much more terrifying. I had no doubt he could do as he said. I was glad he was on our side, but times like this, I was reminded that Hawk Bristol was a scary guy.
Dropping to his knees, he had the device clipped around Scarlett's ankle before either of us could stop him. Standing again, impervious to the shock and anger on Scarlett's face, he said, "Took me a while to engineer what I wanted, but this will sound the alarm if you attempt to leave the property. Once you're over the boundary, I'll be able to track you."
"What if I take it off?" Scarlett challenged, her jaw set. She looked ready to throw a punch.
Hawk cocked a dark eyebrow, amusement ghosting over his face before it sank into his normally dour expression. "You can try. You're more likely to hurt yourself than the tracker."
He raised two fingers to his forehead in a salute before turning on one foot and striding out of the library.
Scarlett glared down at her ankle in disgust. I unlocked the other side of the cuffs from my wrist and shoved them in my pocket, missing the excuse to keep her at my side.
"It's weird, but better than the cuffs, right?"
"I guess." She eyed her ankle, then my pocket, looking like she almost missed the cuffs, too.
Wishful thinking on my part.
Now that Scarlett had the freedom to move, I'd have to see what she did with it.
Chapter Eleven
SCARLETT
The rest of the day was a bust. I managed to talk Tenn into expanding our tour of the house, but so far, no ugly little bust of Emperor Vitellius. Worse, Tenn still had my phone. I didn't even know where he'd stashed it.
What if Thatcher called and I missed him? What if he needed me?
What if? What if? I was making myself crazy.
We checked in on August twice more to find him happy as a clam with Nicky, not yet bored with entertaining a younger child. When I'd asked if he was having fun, he'd whispered in my ear, "Mom, I get to be the big kid. I'm really good at it."