“Okay.”
He leaned against the wall, watching her. The shorts she’d worn to paint in were baggy and shapeless, and the old, faded T-shirt that covered them was now spattered with paint. He’d noticed a tiny hole in the material beneath her arm when she lifted the roller to the wall, and it had driven him crazy all day. He wanted to burrow into that hole, touch her skin. Feel her nerves jump.
“Well.” Her voice was artificially bright. “We’ve managed to take up your whole day. I’m sorry you didn’t get your own painting done.”
“It can wait,” he said easily. “I enjoyed myself.”
Closing the refrigerator door, she glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Right. Tell me another one, Hall. Do you really think I’ll believe that you wanted to spend your weekend painting my living room?”
“Nah.” He moved closer, enjoying the jittery look she gave him as he approached. She was nervous. He liked that.
“This isn’t how I wanted to spend my weekend,” he murmured, stopping an arm’s length away from her.
“I didn’t think so.” Her voice was breathy.
“None of my fantasies included paint, rollers or dropcloths,” he continued. He was close enough to see her eyes darken, close enough to smell her sweet female scent.
She gave him a shaky smile and slipped past him to stand in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, to what she probably considered a safe distance. “Of course not. You had your own plans for the weekend.”
He kept his eyes on hers, delighting in the way her eyes widened, the way heat flared in them as she held his gaze. “On the other hand, maybe I haven’t given enough thought to paint rollers,” he said, moving a step closer to her. “I can think of some interesting uses for a roller and melted chocolate.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “You keep talking like that, you’re going to make me think you arranged for that phone call,” she said.
He loved that she maintained her composure even though he could see she was rattled. It roused all of his competitive instincts. “Honey, you can’t plan for things like that phone call. They just fall into your lap.” He grinned. “I think of Booger’s call as divine intervention.”
“I think of it as a graceful end to the day. You can leave without disappointing Nick.”
“And what about Nick’s aunt?” he murmured. “Will I be disappointing her if I leave?”
“Not in the least.”
“Maybe we should test that theory.”
Only a thin sliver of space separated them now. He closed his hands around her arms, feeling her muscles quiver, feeling her breath hitch in her throat.
But when he bent his head to hers, she didn’t back away.
CHAPTER TEN
CLAIRE STUMBLED backward as Tucker bent his mouth to hers, but his arms came around her and pulled her against him. For a moment, resting against his broad chest, cradled in his arms, she felt safe and protected.
Then he touched his mouth to hers, and safety vanished in a searing blast of heat.
She knew the heat rocketed through him, as well—his muscles tensed and his heart slammed against hers. But he held himself in check as he tasted her, nibbling on her mouth and brushing his lips across hers.
His hands moved on her back, skimming down to her hips, then up again, brushing over her with a featherlight touch. Then he combed his fingers into her hair, cradling her head, holding her mouth against his.
He was being careful with her, being careful not to use his size to overwhelm her. Instead of grabbing, he was offering and waiting for her to respond. Tenderness welled up inside her, along with desire.
She would have resisted his strength, would have refused to be dominated. She had no defenses against his consideration.
When he traced her mouth with his tongue, another spear of desire slashed through her. She murmured his name and opened to him, yearning for more of his heat and strength.
He tightened his arms around her, holding her against him, devouring her mouth. Then he nibbled his way down to her neck, splaying his hands on her back, pressing her more intimately against him. He touched her as if she were delicate and fragile, as if she would break in two if he weren’t careful.
Who would have guessed that a man like Tucker, a man with his size and strength, could be so gentle?
“I’ve been trying to imagine how you would taste,” he whispered against her neck. His breath heated her skin and made her shiver. “Imagination doesn’t even come close.”
She turned her head, searching blindly for his mouth. The taste of him melted into her, hot and dark and male. Struggling to free her hands from against his chest, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
He trembled against her, his muscles hard as iron against hers. She felt him struggle with control, felt the tension that vibrated through him. He stood perfectly still, but his hands roamed restlessly across her back and down her sides.
“You’ve been driving me wild all day,” he whispered, nipping at her earlobe. “Do you know you have a hole in your shirt? Right here?”
He tightened his hand on her side, and she felt the faintest touch of his finger against her skin.
“I haven’t been able to think of anything but this hole all day.”
He rested his hand against her side, his palm pressing against her breast, and eased one finger through the tiny tear in the material. When he smoothed the pad of his finger over her skin, sensation shot straight to her belly.
“I knew you’d feel like warm silk,” he murmured into her ear. His finger traced an arc over her skin, dragging fire with it.
The touch of his finger was hypnotic. She sagged against him, completely lost in the light brush of his finger against her skin, the slight roughness of his fingertip incredibly arousing.
When he reached her bra he hesitated, and she caught her breath, waiting for him to touch her. Longing for him to touch her. When he slid his finger out of the hole in her shirt, frustration swirled through her.
Along with a return to sanity.
What was she doing? She eased away from him, moving out of reach. What did she really know about Tucker, about his past? She knew he had no plans to leave Monroe. And she had no plans to stay.
And here she was, trembling and aroused in his arms, her senses swamped with the taste and feel of him. Her caution and common sense had vanished without a trace.
“What’s wrong?” Tucker asked. His eyes were dark with desire, his face flushed and tight.
“I’m… This…” She shoved a hand through her hair. “I don’t know what I was thinking, Tucker.”
A devil danced in his eyes. “Want me to explain?”
She felt her face burn. “You know what I mean. I can’t do this. I can’t be attracted to you. I’m not staying in Monroe.”
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You think you can control that, Claire? Who you’re attracted to?” He trailed a finger down her cheek to her neck, slid it lightly across her collarbone. “If you think that, your hormones will make a fool of you every time.”
“I can control my hormones,” she told him, but her voice was breathy and too soft.
“Yeah, but why would you want to?” He placed his cupped hand on her cheek and brushed his mouth over hers.
She wanted to press her cheek into his hand. Instead she took a step back. “I don’t do casual sex.”
His eyes darkened even more. “Casual sex? You and me? Honey, there would be nothing casual about it.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “It doesn’t matter how good the sex would be. I’m leaving Monroe in a few months. Not coming back. We have no future,” she said. A sharp spear of regret stabbed her and she pushed it away.
He brushed his knuckle over her cheek again. “I’m attracted to you. And I think you’re attracted to me. We could have a good time for the next few months, Claire.”
“I’m not interested in a ‘good time’” S
he drew in a shaky breath, tried to smile. Tried to convince herself she meant it.
He watched her with eyes that were far too knowing. “What are you interested in?”
“I’m interested in developing my relationship with Nick. I’m interested in getting my work done, trying to run my business as an absentee owner. I’m interested in getting this house fixed up.”
“So you can sell it and go back to Chicago,” he said.
“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “That’s the plan.”
“Sometimes things happen that aren’t part of the plan,” he said. A shadow crossed his eyes, was quickly banished. “What happens then?”
“Then you reassess the plan and figure out how to make it happen.”
He skimmed his finger down her neck. “Sometimes those little detours are the best part of life, Claire. You miss those detours if you keep the blinders on. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
She wasn’t sure of anything right now. No, that wasn’t right. She was sure she wanted to take Tucker up on his offer of a good time. She was sure she wanted to step into his arms, to feel his mouth and hands on her again.
And she was sure it would be a mistake.
“Is that how you ended up in Monroe?” she asked. “By way of a detour?”
“I grew up in a small town in southern Georgia. I had a rough childhood and football was my escape. I couldn’t wait to get out.” He took her hand, stared at it while he played with her fingers. “I had a plan, too. And it worked.” He looked up at her with a wry smile. “I’m the classic example of ‘be careful what you wish for.’ But I was damn lucky. When my plan exploded, I found the detour to Monroe.”
“Why did your plan explode?”
His hand tightened on hers, then he smoothed his finger over her knuckles. “Some things happened that made me realize I needed to get out of football.”
“What kind of things?” she asked.
His eyes went dark, and she saw both grief and pain in them. Then he bent his head and kissed her palm, shielding his eyes from her. “It doesn’t matter because I’m not that person anymore. I’m what you see, a small-town high school teacher and football coach. Nothing more.”
She wanted to press him, to find out what had happened before he came to Monroe, what put that pain in his eyes. She wanted to know everything about him, but she didn’t have the right to ask. Or worse, to dig for details behind his back. She wasn’t willing to tell him all the ugly details of her childhood in Monroe, or her marriage and divorce from Roger Vernon.
So she couldn’t ask him to strip naked, either.
Instead, she asked, “Do you ever regret what you gave up to get here?”
“Sometimes.” He gave her another wry smile. “A small town in central Illinois is a long way from the bright lights and the big city.”
She tilted her head. “I guess playing professional football and teaching high school in a small town are at opposite ends of the universe.”
He watched her for a moment, then let her hand drop and shoved his hands into his pocket. “Not really,” he said. “Football players are lucky if they manage a few years in the pros. You have to be ready for life afterward.” He shrugged. “This is the life I chose.”
“And the life I chose is in Chicago,” she said. To her shock, she heard regret in her voice.
“Yeah, Claire. I know.”
He reached out and pulled her close. With his mouth poised above hers, he gave her a wicked smile. “That doesn’t mean I can’t change your mind about having a good time while you’re here.”
“You can try,” she answered.
He brushed his mouth against hers, lingered. She felt his lips curve on hers. “That sounds like a dare to me,” he said. “Have I got this right? A beautiful woman is daring me to seduce her?”
His low voice shivered through her, quickening her pulse. “That’s no dare, Hall. That’s just fact. I’m immune to charm.”
“Oh, honey,” he said, his voice humming with laughter and heat. “That was just purely the wrong thing to say. I’m going to play so dirty.”
“Give it your best shot.”
His hand tightened on her head for a moment, then he stepped back. His eyes sparkled down at her. “You have no idea how much I like a challenge,” he said.
“You have no idea how stubborn I am.”
He picked up her hand, pressed a kiss into her palm, then blew softly against it. “Stubborn is my specialty.”
He tried to draw her near, but she slipped out of his arms, shooed him toward the door. “Get out of here, Hall.”
He trailed a finger down her throat until it hooked in her shirt. He tugged her close, brushed his mouth over hers, then let her go. “We’ll call it a strategic retreat.”
He tossed her a wicked grin over his shoulder on his way out the door and her heart jumped wildly in response.
She was going to have to reach deep for reserves of stubborn she wasn’t sure she had.
ON MONDAY MORNING, Claire looked at the pile of faxes on her desk, the stack of mail waiting to be answered, and sighed. It was going to be a very long day.
She and Nick had continued painting on Sunday. They’d worked well together, but it wasn’t the same as it had been on Saturday. It wasn’t nearly as much fun.
Before they started, Nick had asked hopefully, “Is Coach coming over to help us?”
“Not today. He has his own work to do.”
Nick’s shoulders had slumped, and she’d told herself it was just as well. The regret that washed through her had been a little too sharp, a little too intense.
It was time to work. This work was her life, she reminded herself.
So why wasn’t she diving in?
She was distracted and disorganized. It was because she’d spent the weekend working on the house, she told herself. Tucker Hall and his teasing, his sweet, seductive kisses, had nothing to do with it.
Putting Tucker firmly out of her mind, she sat down and began to make her way through the stack of faxes.
She’d barely made it through half of them when the doorbell chimed. She glanced at her watch and frowned. Who could be at her door at nine o’clock in the morning?
When she pulled the door open, the chief of police stood on her porch. He nodded to her. “Good morning, Ms. Kendall.”
“Chief Broderick,” she said, shocked to see him standing there. For a moment her mind flashed back fifteen years, to one of the rare appearances of Fred Denton at their door. Her father had been arrested for drunken driving and it had meant nothing but trouble for them.
“May I come in?” he asked with a hint of impatience.
“Of course. I’m sorry.” She stepped aside.
“I have some information for you,” he said, staring down at her. She couldn’t read his eyes.
“Thank you for coming by,” she said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No thanks,” he said. He wandered over to the front windows, examined them. “These locks are pretty flimsy,” he said. “You should replace them.”
“I’m working on renovating the house,” she said, her voice stiff. Her face burned at the reminder of how her mother had neglected the property.
Broderick turned around, gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Once a cop, always a cop, I guess. Just tell me to mind my own business.”
Her embarrassment eased at the rueful look on his face. “No problem,” she said. “Thanks for the tip.”
He looked around the room, and Claire imagined he was assessing the locks on the front door. Suddenly amused rather than offended, she smiled at him. “Don’t tell me. The locks on the door are worthless, too.”
He grinned at her, and a dimple flashed in one cheek. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
More at ease with him, she nodded at the couch. “Please sit down.”
“I’ve talked to Officer Downey,” he said. “He’s the one who spoke to your nephew on the night of the accident.”
His
mouth tightened. “He admitted that your nephew said something to him about his mother getting a phone call. Downey said he thought the kid was just upset.”
“Of course he was upset,” she said sharply. “He’d been told his mother was dead.”
Broderick’s eyes flashed, but he merely gave her a curt nod. “Downey understands that it wasn’t his job to make those assumptions. He knows he should have followed up on your nephew’s information.”
“Thank you,” Claire said, taking a deep breath, surprised at his words. She’d been sure that Broderick would defend his officer. “What now?”
“I’ve asked the phone company for a list of all calls into and out of your house the day of the accident and several days before that. It’ll take them a while to get it to me. Once we get a look at the numbers and see who called your sister, we’ll start asking some questions.”
“I appreciate this,” Claire said, studying the chief of police. “A lot of people wouldn’t bother with such a long shot. A lot of people would say Janice’s death was an accident and leave it at that.”
The chief’s features softened. “The Monroe Police Department has changed since you moved away. I’d like to think we’re more responsive to the people we serve.”
He clearly knew her history with the department. Heat swept up her neck and into her face. Why was she surprised? He would have found out everything he could about her after her visit to his office.
“I can see that,” she said. As she met his steady gaze and saw nothing but sympathetic understanding in his eyes, her embarrassment receded. “It looks like a lot has changed in the department.”
“I hope so,” he said quietly. “I’ll let you know as soon as we have any information.”
“Thank you, Chief Broderick.” She smiled as she watched him stand up. Another one of her assumptions about Monroe shot down. “I appreciate this.”
“Most people in Monroe call me Seth. And you’re welcome. I’m just doing my job.”
“I know. That’s why I’m thanking you.”
He nodded once, his eyes steady. “You call me anytime,” he said as he walked out the door.
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