by Beth Andrews
Settling back into his seat, he shoved the menu aside and sipped his coffee. Across the room, Layne cleared another table while she talked to Jess. Ross tapped his fingers on the table. He hadn’t realized Layne would be here or he would’ve stayed home. Bad enough he couldn’t get her out of his head, he’d hoped he wouldn’t come face-to-face with her at least until she returned to work Thursday.
Had hoped the hold she had over him would go away by then.
Jess’s hands gestured in clear agitation as she talked. After letting his niece run out of steam—or words—Layne spoke and Jess smiled. She actually smiled. And when Layne squeezed her hand, Jess didn’t jerk away. She said something that made Layne laugh before she picked up the bin of dirty dishes and walked through the swinging door.
He clenched his jaw. He didn’t need them getting chummy. Didn’t want any more lines blurred. He needed to keep Layne completely separate from his personal life. What was it about this town where every aspect of people’s lives intertwined?
Jess went over to the guys’ table. The dark-haired one grinned and leaned forward. Whatever he said caused Jess’s polite smile to strain at the edges as she picked up an empty plate. The guy grabbed her hand and she shook her head as she tugged in an effort to get free but he held firm.
Ross was out of the booth and halfway across the room before he even realized he’d moved.
Luckily he regained enough control to keep his expression clear, his tone low when he reached the table. “Let go of her,” he said. “Now.”
Looking way too cocky, the kid slowly released Jess. “Who’s this guy?” he asked Jess, his accent giving him away. Jersey, or maybe Philadelphia, but definitely not from around here. “Your dad?”
Add in the expensive watches two of them wore, the designer clothes and the air of entitlement and Ross amended his initial view of them to wealthy tourists. Ones with more free time than they needed, more money than they could spend and the sense that everything they wanted could be theirs for a price. Including Jess.
“He is not my dad,” Jess ground out, her face red.
“Guess I should introduce myself,” Ross said, pulling his badge out of his front pocket. He opened it, feeling no little amount of satisfaction when all three members of the scruffy beard brigade straightened in their seats. “I see you’ve already met my niece, Jessica.” He held the dark-haired kid’s gaze. “My fifteen-year-old niece.”
The kid blanched, shrank farther into his seat, pointedly keeping his eyes—and his hands—off Jess.
And Ross’s job here was done.
He put his badge away. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
He was halfway to his booth, thinking he’d try the fish chowder followed by the stuffed pork chops, when Jess caught up with him.
“What is your deal?” she asked harshly, glaring at him as if she’d like him to catch fire on the spot so she could watch him burn.
“No deal.” An elderly couple at the table next to them stared. Ross nodded at them then took a hold of Jess’s arm and escorted her to the far corner. He didn’t want a scene in Mystic Point’s most popular restaurant. Not when he was trying to establish himself, and his authority, in town. When he stopped under the sign pointing down a hallway to the restrooms, she wrenched away from him.
“I don’t think that kid should put his hands on you,” he said, not understanding how that made him the bad guy.
“That’s not up to you to decide,” she snapped, drawing several eyes their way.
That’s where she had it wrong. She wasn’t responsible enough or mature enough to decide for herself. As she’d made perfectly clear time and time again with her bad behavior.
Maybe part of the problem is that you expect the worst from her.
“I was protecting you.”
That was his job. To keep her safe. Healthy. To keep her from making the same mistakes as her mother.
Her eyes about popped out of her head. “Protecting me from what? He was just flirting a little. I’ve got news for you, he’s not the first guy to try to pick me up, and I doubt he’ll be the last.”
“That’s the problem,” Ross growled. “Maybe if you didn’t dress that way—”
“Dress what way?” she asked, her tone whisper-soft, her eyes narrowed to slits.
Even he knew better than to answer that.
Thank God Layne arrived and he didn’t have to. She looked from him to Jess and back to him. “I’m not sure I should be asking this but…what’s going on?”
“Oh, not much,” Jess said, a defiant expression on her face despite the fact that her eyes were wet. “Except that Uncle Ross thinks I’m a slut.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LAYNE’S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN. Well, she had to give Jess credit—the kid sure made one hell of an unforgettable statement. One loud enough, shocking enough, to have the attention of everyone in the restaurant.
Just, Layne was sure, as Jess had intended.
What better way to stick it to her uncle than to embarrass him in front of a roomful of people? And Ross, God bless him, was falling for it as fast and hard as if he’d walked off a cliff. The landing was probably going to be just as painful.
He stood stiffly, a muscle working in his jaw. “That’s not what I said.” He met Layne’s eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Maybe not. But he didn’t actually try to deny he’d thought it.
And if Layne noticed she’d bet Jess did, too.
“Let’s go out back,” Layne said, using the tone she employed when dealing with domestic disturbances, bar fights and the inebriated. Attentive and authoritative with a healthy dose of I-have-a-gun-and-badge-and-I-will-cuff-you-and-toss-your-sorry-ass-into-a-holding-cell-if-you-don’t-do-as-I-say. “We’ll get this straightened out.”
“I’m not going anywhere with him,” Jess insisted. “Not after he humiliated me that way.”
“Humiliated?” Ross asked, sounding as if this whole situation had been blown out of proportion, as if his niece had nothing to be upset about. As if he didn’t care that he’d upset her. “If you ask me, you’re being overdramatic.”
Layne sighed and scratched the side of her nose. The man was a dunce.
Jess, her face red, her eyes glimmering with tears and anger, stepped forward. Next to Ross, she seemed small and slight and so very young, Layne’s heart ached for her. Especially when she looked so embarrassed. And hurt.
“I didn’t ask you to butt in,” Jess said, jabbing a finger at his chest, stopping shy of making contact. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need you at all. I can handle myself just fine. And I could’ve handled those guys, too.”
“Like you handled that Nate kid the other night?” he snapped.
Layne inhaled sharply then glanced at Jess. The poor kid looked crushed. The color drained from her face and she sort of curled into herself, her arms hugging her waist, her shoulders hunched as if protecting herself from a physical blow.
Or another emotional one from her uncle.
Swearing softly, his face sickly pale, Ross dragged his hand across his mouth, as if erasing what he’d said. “Jess, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Go to hell,” she said, her voice breaking. She rushed past him and down the hall toward the bathroom. A moment later, the door slammed shut.
Ross followed her. By the time Layne caught up to him, he had his fist raised, ready to pound on the bathroom door.
Layne took a hold of his wrist. “Not a good idea,” she said, tugging him down the hall.
He must’ve been more upset about what happened with Jess than Layne realized because he let her pull him past the break room door before digging in his heels. He went absolutely still, looked at her hand on his arm. When he lifted his gaze to her face, she almost burst into flames from the heat in his eyes. “I need to talk to her.”
“Yeah, you do,” she agreed, “but right now you need to give her some space. And, I think you need to cool off a bit. Now, you can either come wit
h me until you’ve both had enough time to calm down—”
“Or?” he asked quietly, as if daring her to continue. His muscles tensed under her fingers.
She smiled thinly and let go of him. “Or you can leave. And if you won’t do so of your free will, I’ll be more than happy to have someone from the MPPD escort you off the premises. Your choice.”
He glanced at the closed bathroom door then back to Layne. “I’ll wait.”
“In here,” she said, gesturing to Celeste’s office. She followed him inside, flipped on the overhead light and shut the door. Leaning back against it, she crossed her arms and watched as cool, controlled and contained Chief Taylor paced the small confines of the room like a caged animal. Even though tension radiated from him, he moved with natural grace. Like a big cat, all sleek and predatory and dangerous.
Sexy.
Her mouth went dry, her face got hot. He must’ve sensed her watching him because he stopped and whirled on her.
“You don’t need to stand guard,” he bit out. “I’m fine.”
“God, but you’re stubborn,” she said, tossing her hands in the air. “You drove your niece to tears. Is that what you call fine? Or maybe that’s your brilliant plan. To totally squash her spirit so she won’t have the spine to cause you any trouble.”
“I didn’t mean it the way it came out.” His voice was level, his eyes hooded. “She should know that.”
“Well, I’m sure that’ll make it all better. You didn’t mean to insult her, hurt her feelings and make her feel like a piece of crap so, really, what right does she have to be upset?”
He stalked toward her and anticipation, hot and sexual, settled in the pit of her stomach.
“I don’t want or need you involving yourself in my personal life,” he told her, not stopping until he was so close, she had to tip her head up to meet his eyes. “In fact, I’d rather you and Jessica didn’t form any sort of…relationship.”
She gaped at him. “That has got to be one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard. Why shouldn’t I be friendly with Jess? She’s smart and sarcastic and she makes me laugh. Maybe you’d do better to stop criticizing her all the time, finding fault with her and start finding positive things in her to appreciate.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t want you around Jess. I don’t need your help or your advice when it comes to how I’m raising my niece. I can handle her without your input.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t handle kids, especially teenagers. She isn’t an officer under your command, someone you can expect to obey without thought or question. You can’t control everything.”
Something shifted in his eyes, darkening them from gray to a deep pewter. The air she breathed heated, was tinged with his scent.
“You think I don’t know that?” he asked in a low rumble that seemed to abrade her skin. Goose bumps rose on her bare arms. He shifted ever so closer. She pressed back, plastered herself against the door. “If I could control everything, my fifteen-year-old niece wouldn’t get drunk or have sex with some kid she just met out in the middle of the woods. She wouldn’t blame me for what happened to her mother, wouldn’t hate me for bringing her here.”
Layne couldn’t move as he bent his knees slightly so they were eye to eye, mouth to mouth. “If I had more control,” he said roughly, “I wouldn’t think about you as much as I do. I wouldn’t want you.”
Oh, God.
Her heart pounded. Her breathing quickened. Swallowing hard, she tried to regain her equilibrium but she felt off balance. Like a boat bobbing in the ocean. “I… You… What?”
Pure male satisfaction entered his eyes, but it did nothing to soften the harsh lines of his face, the tightness of his jaw. “What’s the matter, Captain? No smart-ass comment? No witty refrain?”
He wanted her to be witty? To think? Not possible. Her brain had shut down. A low buzzing filled her ears. She wanted to bolt, was afraid to stay where she was, trapped between the door and his solid body. But she feared moving even more, of doing anything that would shatter this moment and bring her back to reality.
“Tell me to back off,” he murmured as he slowly, ever so slowly, leaned in. “Tell me you don’t want this.” His coffee-scented breath washed over her mouth. Her lips parted. “That you don’t want me.”
“I should,” she said, barely recognizing the rasping voice as her own. Holding his gaze, keeping her butt, her shoulders settled against the door, she stretched her neck until her lips were a hairbreadth from his. “But I’ve never been much of a liar,” she whispered.
She sensed his surprise, his slight hesitation, and then he pressed his mouth against hers.
He lifted his arms, settled his palms against the door on either side of her ears, keeping enough space between their bodies that they didn’t touch. His lips were warm. Firm. His kiss hot and hard enough to knock her head against the door with a soft thud.
Her focus narrowed until the only thought she had was of him, her only need for him. Her mind, so clouded moments before with doubts and fears, cleared. She knew exactly what she wanted, exactly why she’d told him the truth. It was so she could experience Ross’s kiss, just once, so she’d feel his lips moving over hers.
He tasted of coffee and mint and when he growled in the back of his throat and deepened the kiss, she was helpless to do anything other than open for him.
* * *
ROSS SWEPT HIS TONGUE into Layne’s mouth. His want for her, the insatiable need he’d tried to deny for so long should’ve dissipated or, at the very least, lessened. Instead it grew more demanding with each passing second.
She moaned, low and throaty, into his mouth and he curled his fingers, his nails scraping against the door. It was a dream. A nightmare. One he never wanted to end. He was kissing Layne Sullivan.
And she was kissing him back.
He got lost in her…her taste and scent, the feel of her lips against his. So lost he didn’t realize she’d moved, had lifted her hand until he felt the brush of her fingers against his cheek. Her touch like an electric shock, one that brought him to his senses.
He leaped back, kept his eyes on hers while he dragged in a ragged breath. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and red. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Christ but she was beautiful. Sexy and alluring. And if he wasn’t careful, she could become his greatest weakness.
He stabbed a hand through his hair. She was an officer under his command. He’d risked his career and his reputation, had broken his own moral code for a few minutes with her.
And dear, sweet God it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to kiss her again.
He cleared his throat. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. Not knowing what to do with his hands, he tucked them behind his back. “What just happened was completely my fault. I take full responsibility and understand if you want to file sexual misconduct charges against me.”
She straightened slowly, her eyes slumberous as she held his gaze. But then she blinked and they cleared, seemed to focus. Exhaling heavily, she hooked her thumbs in her front pockets. “You can put your sword away. I’m not interested in having you fall on it. Seems to me there are two of us here and I’m responsible for my own actions. And, in case it escaped your attention,” she said in that dry tone that both irritated and appealed to him, “I wasn’t exactly fighting you off.”
Tell me to back off.
She hadn’t, though part of him had prayed like hell she would. But he didn’t delude himself into thinking this was her fault. No, the blame lay squarely with him. He’d let his frustration over the situation with Jess, his anger at himself for what he’d said to his niece, and his attraction to Layne drive him to make a bad decision.
But that didn’t mean he had to repeat that mistake. Ever.
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at work,” he said.
She raised her eyebrows. “Do you plan on making advances toward me at the station?”
The idea simply appalled him.
“No.”
“Are you going to offer me promotions, better shifts, higher profile cases and/or other perks in exchange for sexual favors?”
“Where are you going with this?”
“Of course you’re not,” she said, answering her own question. She shrugged. “I say we chalk it up to curiosity on both our parts and move on.”
She was right. But it did little to assuage his guilt. Or lessen how much he wanted her. “If you’re sure that’s what you want…”
“It is.”
What choice did he have except to take her at her word? But that didn’t mean he had it in him to hang around there any longer than necessary. He’d already snapped at his niece and kissed an officer under his command. Who knew what other boneheaded move he might make if he didn’t get out of there?
“Under the circumstances—” which included, but weren’t limited to him being an asshole and making Jess cry, “—I think it might be best if I waited for Jess at home.”
“I think you’re right,” Layne said, mimicking his grave tone. “If she needs a ride, I can drop her off. Unless that makes you uncomfortable.”
Hell, yes, it made him uncomfortable. And if he admitted it, it would also make him sound like an idiot. One who was losing his grip so he kept casting wildly about for anything that would help him keep things under his control.
“That’s fine. I appreciate it.” This time, when he approached her, Layne moved out of his way. Smart move. For both their sakes. His hand on the doorknob, he paused. Kept his gaze ahead as he said, “Tell Jess…”
Tell her I’m sorry.
Except, the only thing worse than being a bastard was not having the balls to admit it. He’d apologize to her himself. “Just tell her I’ll see her at home.”
He stepped out into the hall…saw the door to the restroom was still closed. And as he walked down the long hallway, away from Layne, away from Jess, he wondered if he hadn’t made two of the biggest mistakes of his life tonight.
* * *
“IT’S RIGHT THERE,” Jess told Anthony, pointing to her house from the passenger side of his Jeep. “Second one on the right.”