She climbed in her car and slammed the door tight. The engine hummed too quietly, so she turned the radio up until her ears hurt, but her troubled thoughts roared louder. She never had sex on the first date. “Oh screw it. I’ve broken dozens of rules today. I might as well break that one, too.”
***
JT shoved his sleeve back and studied his watch. It wouldn’t take an hour to get to Claire’s place, so he drove home for a quick shower. He put on a clean shirt, found a pair of jeans without too much dirt on them, and ditched his work boots for comfortable but presentable shoes. He Googled her address to refresh his memory, then checked the time again and headed out the door.
Fuck me on the interstate. Guilt stopped him in his tracks. If he got caught, he’d get kicked off the jury, maybe thrown in jail for a few days, or fined. He could handle all that. But what would happen to Claire? She’d lose her job, no doubt. Probably have to find a new career, maybe even leave the city.
Without thinking, he pulled out his phone and called his sister, Kaylee. Two rings and then a young boy’s voice carried through the earpiece. “Hey, Uncle JT. What’s up?”
“What are you doing answering your mom’s phone, Malcolm?”
“She went out to get groceries and forgot to bring it with her. I thought she might be calling to….” The boy’s words trailed off as he realized the problem with his statement.
JT laughed. The ten-year-old had inherited his father’s book smarts, but his mother’s air-headed tendencies sometimes got the best of him. “Okay, tell her I called.”
“Do you want her to call you back?”
He glanced at the exit sign and calculated the time and distance left to his destination. He’d arrive at Claire’s before his sister got home, and he needed to talk to her before that—before he had to make the choice on his own.
Kaylee would roll her eyes and tell him to be a man or some bullshit like that. After cuffing him upside the head, she’d settle down and listen. He trusted her advice, but as he passed another exit, he realized he’d have to make a decision—and quick. “No, I’ll call her back later.”
“Okay. Dad’s yelling at me to do my homework. Bye!” The kid would probably forget to give his mom the message anyway.
“Later, Mal.” JT ended the call and mentally reviewed his contact list. No one else on his phone could help him wrestle his demons. Sure, he had a lot of friends and talked to strangers like they were family, but he only trusted Kaylee. She’d suffered through the same crap, so she understood. So does Claire.
He couldn’t talk to her. They’d only shared one illegal conversation, and besides, she was the demon who had him by the balls. I should cancel.
But how? He had no way to contact her other than going to her house, and that in itself put her at risk. Why this woman? He didn’t need a date tonight. He’d said no to dinner tomorrow because he had plans with another woman—third date plans. Why jeopardize that potential score?
Because Claire appealed to him on more levels than he’d known he possessed. Physically: her silky hair and lush curves just begged to be touched. Sexually: that red blouse demanded to be ripped off. He hoped she’d wear it tonight. If not, he’d do her in those heels. Intellectually: Not many women he’d known turned his brain on, too.
Why pursue a legal career when she obviously loved to break rules? That conversation presented fascinating possibilities.
The emotional connection they’d shared propelled him to his truck. With one look, one perfect smile, she’d told him she’d experienced the same drama, the same gut-wrenching choices divorce forced on kids who were too young to understand the consequences. She’d not only survived it, but thrived, just like he had.
He got off the interstate and found her subdivision without much trouble. He’d helped build the shopping centers and office buildings as a summer job in college, and remembered it. The area had prospered at first, but its age had begun to show. Rental properties, easy to spot with their weeds-and-dirt yards and peeling exterior paint, dominated the street, but Claire’s house looked well-maintained. He pulled into her driveway and left the truck running, debating whether or not he should go in.
Would she ever forgive him if he destroyed her career? He shifted into reverse, but then her porch light came on—an invitation. He searched up and down the deserted street, then pocketed his keys and took her front steps two at a time.
She opened the door before he knocked. “Get in.”
JT ducked inside as she bolted the lock and turned off the light.
He studied her place, what he could see of it anyway. Candles burned in strategic locations, lighting the room without revealing anything inside. She’d closed all the blinds and curtains, and taped cardboard over the peephole in the front door. Darkness swallowed up the rest of the house.
“Paranoid much?”
“You have no idea.” A timid smile curved her pale lips. She’d changed out of the red blouse into a snug pink sweater and jeans. A pair of sandals with dangerous heels lay abandoned next to the couch. She curled her bare toes into the carpet as she walked. Fuck me barefoot in December.
“I probably do. All the way over here, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much you stand to lose if we’re caught, and I….”
The panic in her eyes nearly sent him running.
“I’ll leave if you want me to.”
Chapter 3
Leave? After all she’d done to prepare? She’d scurried in through the garage, straight into her bedroom, ripping work clothes off as she ran. Her unmade bed screamed for attention, so she straightened the covers while searching for a good pair of jeans.
“Laundry!” She bolted to the living room and grabbed piles of folded clothes, rushing them back to her room as she kicked the empty laundry basket down the basement stairs. She jumped into her favorite jeans, and tossed a bright sweater across the still-rumpled bed.
Why bother? He’s not going to see my bed, is he?
But she’d decided to have fun and be done with him. She arranged the pillows and laughed. A daring guy like JT had no need for a bed.
Satisfied that the bedroom looked presentable, she ran to the kitchen. Ugh. Disaster. She’d just opened the dishwasher and started putting clean dishes away when she spotted the neighbors clearing their dining room table. They flipped off the light as they left, and Claire saw nothing more.
Lights! She looked around at her blazing house, slammed the dishwasher shut, and resolved to keep the kitchen dark—and off limits. No sex on the countertops. Stop thinking about that!
She scrambled through the house, slapping light switches as she went, then stood in the darkened living room, heart racing, as a beam from the streetlight pierced the protective blackness. Where’s that coming from?
She yanked at a cord, and the blinds cascaded shut with a metallic clang. She dragged the heavy curtains closed, then searched for something to cover up the peephole.
Claire ripped the back off a legal pad and taped it to the door, then backed up to survey her work and tripped over the coffee table.
“Ow! Gotta light some candles.” She groped across the room, palming the wall until she reached her bedroom. Once there, she flipped a light on long enough to grab half a dozen candles and some matches, which she placed in secure locations—enough light to navigate the living room, but not escape the house.
A vehicle pulled into the driveway as she lit the last candle. The engine hummed for a couple of minutes, then switched off. The door slammed; footsteps slapped on concrete.
And now he wanted to bail? He’d put her at risk the moment he called her name in the parking garage. She’d sealed their fate by acknowledging him. Letting him in her house seemed like a minor infraction.
“The damage is done, so we might as well relax and enjoy it,” she said.
“Relax. Riiight.”
Claire sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside her, hoping he wouldn’t take this as blatant come-on. He accepted her inv
itation and slid close. Somehow during her mission to hide the kitchen, she’d snagged a couple of takeout menus. “Pizza or Chinese?”
He flipped open the pamphlet from The Sticky Wok. “I hung drywall in this place years ago. I’m surprised it’s still here.”
She leaned close and read over his shoulder. The scent of warm soap and hot man swept over her. Sweat sheened her skin. He’d taken a shower. Why hadn’t she? “Their shrimp eggrolls are the best I’ve ever tasted. Want some?”
“I’m allergic to shrimp.”
“Bummer. Should we get pizza instead?”
“No, go ahead and order them. I’ll get the Kung Pao chicken.” He leaned back and draped his arm along the couch, circling his fingertips on her shoulder as if to reassure her.
She pulled out her phone and keyed in the number, watching JT from the corner of her eye. He stared toward the kitchen while she gave the restaurant her address, phone number, and their choice of entrees. “…shrimp eggrolls and cream cheese wontons, please.”
He smiled and stroked her sweater.
“Thank you.” She hung up and caught him studying the kitchen again. “Something wrong?” Is someone watching us? Did I close the blinds in there?
“Huh?” He blinked. “No, I just noticed the crack in your wall.”
She turned and spotted the jagged hairline running from floor to ceiling along the entrance to the kitchen. “Oh, that’s been there forever, before I moved in.” When she remembered his experience with construction, she got goose bumps. “Is it a problem? Is the ceiling going to cave in?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No. Just a bad tape job. A little spackle and paint will fix it.”
“Oh good, I’ll tell my landlord.” She leaned back beside him, and his hand brushed her breast as it slid down her arm. God, that felt good. “Do you always notice building flaws?”
“Occupational hazard.” He squeezed her shoulder and rubbed her arm. “Do you always hang out with disobedient jurors?”
She snuggled against him. “Never. I’m a good girl.”
JT dropped his head back on the couch and laughed. “No, you’re not. You look all cute and innocent in this fuzzy sweater, but you must know it was made to be touched.” His impudent fingers slipped down and under the soft garment to caress her skin. “And so are you.”
She stretched, granting his hand more freedom. Okay, that’s a come-on. Her no-sex-on-the-first-date rules wrestled with her exhibitionist nature. The urge to strip off her sweater and give him an unobstructed view of her fabulous breasts crumpled under the need to keep her clothes on until their food arrived. But there was no reason she couldn’t let him cop a feel. “It’s been too long.” Out loud!
JT chuckled as his calloused hands dragged over her neglected skin, and he massaged her back while she leaned into him. “I thought that might be the case.”
“That obvious?” She should’ve put a stop to his exploration, but her reawakened senses wouldn’t be denied. One quick lay to get him out of her system. If only he hadn’t been selected for jury duty, he could have been the guy she wanted, the solid relationship she craved.
After her uncertain, intense relationship with Will fell apart, she became more determined than ever to find a man to give her something secure and stable. I know he’s out there. I’m ready for him.
“Why else would a good girl legal secretary—”
“I’m not a secretary. I’m a paralegal.”
“Understood.” He caressed the tension from her shoulders. “Why would you take such a huge risk if the reward wasn’t just as big?”
“Is it?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Is it what?”
“An enormous reward?” God, I’ve been working for Alex too long.
He laughed and shoved his arm all the way up through her collar to grab a fistful of hair at the back of her neck. “Care to find out?”
“Mmm….” The move pinned her against his body and forced her to straddle his lap. She braced a hand on his chest and angled her hips. He tightened his grip and pulled her down as his lips brushed hers.
She heard footsteps thunder up the front porch just before the doorbell rang.
Claire’s heart slammed into her throat, and she leaped to her feet. “What is that?”
“Dinner.” JT grunted, adjusting his pants as he stood. “I got this.”
She wilted onto the couch, clapping a hand over her heaving breast as she tried to gather her wits. The reward might be huge, but the risk was going to kill her.
***
JT took a deep breath and stumbled across the darkened room on wobbling legs. It had been a while since he’d skewered a dumpling, too, and he’d nearly ruined his appetite before dinner. Fuck me with a takeout menu. He reached for the doorknob with a shaking hand. “Hey.”
“Hi. Um… Broccoli Beef and Kung Pao Chicken?” A skinny college kid held up a white paper bag. “Twenty five, sixty.”
“Okay.” JT pulled out his wallet.
The delivery guy scanned the closed blinds with a skeptical eye. “Hiding from someone?”
“More fun watching a date movie in complete darkness.” JT winked and handed him some cash.
He grinned. “Awesome.” He passed the bag to JT and scampered down the stairs without offering any change.
Claire moved a lit candle to the coffee table. “Thank you for buying.”
“My pleasure. Are we eating in here?”
“Yes, the dining room is my office, and the kitchen is a mess. Never had time to do the breakfast dishes.”
“No problem.” He set the bag down and knocked a scrap of silk and lace off the coffee table. He held it up to the light—pale pink panties. A low whistle hissed between his teeth. “Nice. Do you keep all your lingerie out here?” He searched the table for more wayward undergarments.
“Cheese and crackers!” Claire snatched the underwear from his hand, and dashed into the dark hallway. She returned with couple of plates and forks, minus the panties. “I thought I put all my laundry away.”
“Cheese and what?”
“Oh.” She giggled. “My dad taught me to say cheese and rice or something like that instead of Jesus Christ. He wouldn’t allow his little girl to use real swear words. Of course, the rule didn’t apply to him.”
“You don’t swear at all?”
“Not unless I… uh… get really excited.” Her cheeks colored pink in the candlelight.
“I’d like to see that.” He helped her unpack their dinner. The solid wood coffee table filled up with entrees, scattered soy sauce packets and plastic-wrapped fortune cookies.
She opened the eggrolls. “Want one? They’re so good.”
“Keep those away from me.”
“Oops, I forgot.” She set the package at the other end of the table. “What happens when you eat shrimp?”
He dug into the fried rice and poured some on her plate. “Depending on how much I have, my tongue swells up and I have trouble breathing. The first time it happened, I ended up in the emergency room.”
“That’s scary.”
He cast a wary glance at the dangerous appetizer. “I’m not taking any chances.”
“No kidding.” A stubborn packet of soy sauce slipped from her fingers. “Still… a swollen tongue might not be all bad.” She flicked the tip of her tongue between her lips, and he stopped breathing.
Fuck me… please. “Keep that up and I’m gonna need mouth-to-mouth.”
“I’m certified in CPR, so I’d be happy to volunteer.” She grinned and licked soy sauce off her fingertips.
I’m gonna die tonight. He grunted and stuffed a piece of spicy chicken into his mouth.
Claire stood up. “I forgot drinks. You want a beer?” She groped toward the kitchen.
“Yeah,” he called after her as his tongue burned. She brought back two open bottles, and he took a deep drink, letting the cold brew put out the fire in his mouth. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward to grab a wonton, a
nd the arrowhead slipped from his shirt. She caught the stone in her hand and rubbed her thumb over its chiseled surface. “This is beautiful. Where’d you get it?”
“I found it back in high school when I worked construction in the summers. One day I spotted this triangle the dirt, bent over to pick it up, and an I-beam swinging around on a crane just missed my head. Saved my life. This old arrowhead’s been my lucky charm ever since.”
She smiled and tucked it under his shirt again, brushing her warm fingertips on his skin. “Does it work?”
It hadn’t kept the justice system from ruining his week. “Not today.”
“Are you sure?” She set her chicken on the table and slid closer, leaning into him as she pressed her hand on this thigh. A soft breast brushed his arm, but Claire bit her lip, a hint of uncertainty lurking in her eyes.
He tested her, parting his legs so her hand slipped toward the throbbing bulge in his jeans. “Think I’ll get lucky tonight?” He winked, plotting his next move. Open food cartons covered the coffee table, but he could shove the table out of the way and spread her out on the carpet—toss her jeans on the couch and make a pillow out of that sweater. Naked and cozy.
His bold question seemed to rattle her nerve. She cleared her throat and sat back, but regained her composure with a swig of beer. “Anything’s possible.”
He laughed softly. What’s holding her back? Is she a virgin? He doubted that. A woman in high heels and a body-hugging sweater, sitting alone in the dark with a forbidden man, had to have some sexual experience. She flirted like she meant it.
So jump on it… her. He’d kept his hands full of King Pao chicken when he could’ve easily discarded the food and explored those possibilities she’d mentioned, but he sat there with a stupid grin on his face, unable—or maybe unwilling—to endure another failure.
His date tomorrow night was a sure thing, casual, no obligation beyond the present. Getting involved with this illegal paralegal required committing to her professional safety—choosing to be with her, despite the risks. He sucked at making choices, but this one stared him in the face, daring him to do something.
Home Is Where the Heat Is Page 3
