Jake admired the view as he followed Claire up the stairs. Damn. He needed to keep his thoughts on protecting her, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to touch her soft skin again.

She had on some sort of strappy dress that made a man fixate on the thin pieces of fabric on a woman’s shoulders. Or maybe it just made Jake obsess about the bright-red material highlighting Claire’s lightly freckled shoulders. The skirt swished as she climbed the stairs. Momentarily it clung to one side of her round ass before switching direction. 

She stepped onto the landing and turned toward her office before he drank in his fill. Denied lust slammed into his gut and places lower as she disappeared into her office. 

She was spunky and stubborn with a smart mouth, all wrapped up in a sexy package that he desperately craved. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her and feel her come around him. That vision in all its variations had kept him awake and hard most of the previous night. 

“You okay?” Claire’s voice knocked him back to the present. “You look like you’re in pain. Headache? I have aspirin.” 

The reality of her put his lustful imaginings to shame. She stood in her office doorway with her arms crossed underneath her breasts. Her stance pushed those touchable tits together and upward. The sun’s rays shining from her office windows outlined her toned legs through her dress. 

Aspirin wasn’t going to fix what ailed him.

“I’m good.” He clenched and released his hands in a failed effort to get his blood rushing in a different direction. A bit bowlegged, he walked into Claire’s office.

She sat down behind her desk and powered up her laptop. Jake looked around for a place to sit. She’d covered almost every horizontal surface with stacks of paper, management books and dirty coffee cups. He grabbed a pile of manila folders off a hot-pink plastic chair, gently placed them on the floor and sat down. 

He had no idea what to do now. He never figured she’d actually let him inside the restaurant. 

Claire cleared her throat. “Tell me about the phone and flash drive.” 

Well, that explained why she let him in.

Jake searched for the right words to start his story. The conversation with Burlington last night hadn’t been pleasant, but it had been productive. He’d convinced the privileged prick he would cooperate, but demanded to know the story behind the phone and flash drive. Burlington had agreed. 

Claire’s chocolate-brown eyes didn’t waver. “Tell me now or get the hell out.”

He scooted his chair closer to her desk and lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “Charles Burlington, Kendall’s dad, adopted her when he and Kendall’s mom, Charlotte, got married. Kendall was two years old at the time.” 

He leaned forward in his chair, swiped her coffee and took a long drink. Like him, she drank it black. He paid no mind to her irritated look as he returned the travel mug to her desk. 

“It seems Kendall’s biological father, Frank Darcy, is a two-time loser, con man and meth abuser who’d made contact with her earlier this year. He’d talked Kendall into giving him money—a lot of money. Burlington thinks Darcy killed Kendall.” 

“Why would Darcy kill Kendall?”

“Burlington believes Kendall stored the account information needed to access her money on the flash drive. Either she changed her mind about giving the cash to Darcy or his meth paranoia took over and he killed her for reasons that only make sense to him.”

“No doubt the Voice of Doom was tweaking hard yesterday. Could it have been Darcy? He’s in the right age bracket and he’s definitely a meth head.”

“Maybe. Burlington couldn’t give me a good description of him, said he hadn’t ever seen him and it had been years since the wife had. My office is searching arrest records now to pull a photo.”

“Something still seems off.” A worry line formed between Claire’s eyes. “If she was giving him money already, killing her doesn’t make sense, even for a meth addict.”

“Agreed. Burlington did bring up a third possibility. Kendall siphoned off three million dollars from her parents to give to Darcy. Burlington thinks she did so at Darcy’s request and that he killed Kendall to cover his tracks.”

“How did Burlington find out about all this?”

“Kendall told her mother everything the day before she was killed.”

She pursed her lips and squinted at him. “Why is my bullshit meter going crazy right now?”

“Because you’re not a moron.” He stole another drink of coffee. “Also, it’s the second story he’s told about why he wants the phone. The first story was his wife wanted some photos of herself and Kendall that were on the phone. Both stories are crap. Maybe not all of the embezzled money story is crap, but a good portion of it is.” 

He stood up, shoved his fingers through his hair. “Burlington is an asshole, but he’s not stupid. I doubt anyone could siphon off twenty bucks from him, let alone three million. Something else is going on here. I don’t know what Kendall stumbled onto, but it was enough to get her killed.”  

He lowered himself to the chair and stretched his legs out. “I did some research last night at the hotel, called up some buddies who owe me favors. There are questions about the legitimacy of some of Burlington’s clients’ profits. Maybe the three million dollars Kendall stole, if she took any money at all, didn’t belong to her parents. Maybe it belonged to one of daddy’s clients.” 

Jake gave Claire a moment to digest the information.

“Shit.” The vivacious spark that usually glimmered in her eyes dimmed. “So how do we nail the son of a bitch who killed Kendall?”

God, he loved the spit and vinegar in her. She refused to give up. As a double bonus, she’d said “we”.

“Same plan as before. We wait for him to come at you again, but this time I’ll be with you.” 

She gave him a wan smile. Her obvious worry hurt him as if he’d been kicked in the knee. To lighten the mood, he leveled his best wolfish leer at her. “Enough of this. I’d rather talk about when we’re going to finish what we started in your kitchen.” 

Claire pursed her lips and turned toward her screen. “We’re finished with that.” Her fingers sped across her keyboard. 

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.

Did you miss part of Dangerous Kiss? Catch up here. xoxo, Avery