The last nail pounded home with a satisfying thud. Claire stepped back and surveyed the plywood-covered front door. She pushed against its rough surface. It gave a little, but not too much. As a bonus, all that whacking had done wonders for her mood. She’d pictured the Voice of Doom’s face on each nail. Smashing the hammer had been cheap therapy.

Still, as her temper relented, doubts about her decision to stay home raced through her mind. Really, did she want to be the delusional scream queen who thought she could take on a killer? 

Big no to that one. She wanted to live to see the Voice of Doom rot in jail.

A quick set of taps on the door made Claire jump. She clutched the hammer, claw side out, arched high and ready strike.

Her body tensed. “Who is it?” The words came out in a high-pitched squeal.

“Pizza delivery.” 

Jake. Thank God. Unbidden, a nervous giggle escaped. She lowered the hammer to her side and opened the door. 

Looked like her body wasn’t the only one drawn to Jake. Onion sat by Jake’s boot-clad feet. Great. Puppy love. Her stomach growled as she inhaled the scent of melted mozzarella and greasy pepperoni. Jake quirked an eyebrow.

“Come on in.” Claire stepped back to let Jake inside. The dog followed behind, his ears perked up into perfect triangles. “Et tu, Brute?” 

Onion’s tongue lolled out of his mouth. Without even stopping to be petted, he followed the pizza scent into the house.

Jake, already in the kitchen, popped open two bottles and handed her one. The dark, porter-style beer slid down her parched throat like bitter honey. Heaven. Her body unwound all the way to her toes. She couldn’t have been more relaxed if she was neck-deep in a vanilla bubble bath, a glass of Malbec wine balanced on the tub’s edge and Chef Anthony Bourdain’s latest book in her hands. 

They ate in companionable silence, standing around the kitchen island. The setting sun filtered in through the window and acted as their candlelight. Onion wandered from one to the other, occasionally successful at begging a piece of pepperoni. 

“So…” Claire watched the string of cheese connecting a pizza slice to Jake’s delectable mouth. “Is this how your days normally go?”

He laughed and swiped at the wayward cheese. He swirled it around his finger and deposited it in his mouth. Claire’s knees turned to jelly.

“No. Normally, I spend most of my time in the office working on computer investigations for businesses dealing with corporate spies. Every once in a while I’ll spend the afternoon tailing a cheating spouse, but that’s rare.”

“Really? I kind of pictured you always up in someone’s personal space.”

“Nah, I prefer to let my brain do the work.” He paused, looking Claire up and down. “But when it comes to play, I’m all about being in someone’s…personal space.”

Heat raced up from her toes. There was no missing the meaning behind that. The dinner’s easygoing vibe dissolved into heated anticipation. Would it really be so bad to touch him? They were comrades in arms facing off against the Voice of Doom.

And man, it would be amazing to be wrapped up in his arms. 

Claire licked an errant bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth. “So why are you here on a murder investigation?”

The leer slid off his face, blank affability taking its place. “It’s the old story of money and power. Kendall’s dad has plenty of both and uses them to ensure things turn out the way he wants. Like having me on this case. His company is our biggest client. We weren’t going to turn him away when he asked for a favor.” Jake polished off his second piece of pizza and reached for a third. “Now it’s my turn. How’d you end up at Harvest?”

“Long story.”

“I’ll be here all night.”

The idea made her insides whirl, picturing his tan legs twisted in her white silk sheets, the bed rocking beneath them. One bold move and she could make it happen. Contemplating, she nibbled on her crust then dipped one end in the marinara. “I grew up wanting to be a chef. As a kid, I had the hat, the white jacket, everything. But I cannot cook to save my life. I went to business school instead. After graduation, I managed a restaurant in Denver.”

“How’d you end up back in Dry Creek?” He flicked a pepperoni slice to Onion. The dog snapped it out of midair.

Her stomach lurched at the thought of Brett. Handsome. Funny. Smart. Scumbag. They’d been together three years, lived together for two. She’d made him the center of her world, turned down job offers at restaurants in New York to stay close to him. 

She’d found out how misplaced her trust in the shit had been when she’d discovered him in bed with another woman. She’d kicked him to the curb. In retaliation, he’d emptied their joint bank account and gotten engaged. The asshole probably used her last paycheck for the engagement ring. Pissed off all over again at the unfairness of fate, she took in a cleansing breath.

“Old story. Girl meets boy. Girl falls in love. Boy sleeps with another girl.” She shrugged as if it didn’t still hurt. “I came home, opened Harvest and here I am.”

Jake had inched closer to her while she talked. Her hip touched his thigh. His body heat seeped in, scattering her thoughts. 

“What’s the idiot’s name?”

“Brett Green, why?”

“That way I know who to slug if I ever meet him.”

She laughed. Pounding Brett was a fantasy she nurtured herself. Jake reached for a napkin, his elbow grazing the side of her breast.

“How about you?” Her voice squeaked. Hoping to distract herself from his hard body, she swept the pizza crust crumbs scattered across the island into a small pile. 

“No, I haven’t fallen in love with a boy recently.” He chuckled. “So, do killers tend to stalk you on a regular basis?”

She shrugged. “I’m just a boring restaurant owner. Half the time I think Harvest owns me, I’m there so much. No excitement in my life except when a customer’s car gets towed.” 

“Too bad. You seem like a woman who enjoys stimulation.”  

Right now, she had too much stimulation, judging by the dampness between her legs. Desperate to put something in her mouth before she said something stupid, Claire reached for another slice of pizza but hesitated. Her hand hovered over the only piece left.

“We can arm wrestle for the last slice.” Jake’s voice warmed her skin as if he’d touched her.

Claire took in his thick biceps. Without thinking, she reached out toward him, but squashed the impulse. Memories of Brett had her on guard again. Jake was the definition of eye candy; pretty to look at, bad for her heart. Her hand switched course. She grabbed her beer and took a swig. 

A mouthful of the dark liquid went down the wrong pipe. Coughing, she gasped for breath. Jake patted her back until she regained her normal breathing ability.

But his hand didn’t move. It stayed between her shoulder blades, fingers spread wide. Sparks shot outward from his palm through her body. 

Her breath slowed. Awareness prickled her skin. She yearned for his touch. Everywhere. Her lips parted. Slowly, she turned around. His hand left a trail of fire as it slid down and around her body until it landed on the curve of her hip. 

He brought up his other hand to brush a stray hair from her face. His eyes drew her into his sexual orbit. 

“You have some sauce right here.” His voice’s deep timbre sent an unmistakable signal to which her body responded. Her breasts became full and heavy. Her clit demanded attention.

He wiped the spot by the corner of her mouth with his thumb, then tracked the red liquid across her bottom lip. His head dipped lower. Hers moved up. When their lips met, thoughts of Brett and the Voice of Doom disappeared.  

His firm tongue stroked her lips and begged for entry. She opened and his tongue swept in. She wrapped her tongue around his, dared him to taste his fill. The hand on her hip tightened and pulled her closer to his hard body. In return, her fingers found their way to the bottom of his T-shirt and started an upward exploration. His coarse chest hair tickled her palm, so alien and enticing at the same time.

His lips left hers and traced down her neck. He arrived at that sweet spot where her throat met her shoulder. Her spine dissolved as he sucked and nibbled.

“You taste so good,” he said, his breath hot against her skin.

The feel of his hands cupping her ass made it impossible to respond verbally other than to moan her appreciation. Her body slid up against his as he lifted her to sit on the kitchen counter. He yanked her closer. The hard bulge in his jeans rubbed against her in the perfect spot.

Every part of her, relaxed only a few minutes before, hummed with tension. Her nipples stiffened into tight nubs. She squeezed her legs around Jake’s waist, her wet core snug against him. She clutched at his shirt, desperate to touch his skin. She needed him closer. Her body demanded it. The endorphins wrapped around her brain gave the go ahead. 

She hiked up his shirt and ran her hands up his strong back, felt the tension within him. He tugged her scoop-necked T-shirt lower and his lips descended to the top of her cleavage. He licked and kissed above her teal bra. 

Claire’s butt started to vibrate. 

Not Jake making my ass vibrate.

It was her phone stuffed into her back pocket. She had to stop to answer. Her body screamed no.

“Phone,” Claire panted. She pushed against Jake’s shoulders. “Have…to…answer…my…phone.”

He groaned into her breasts, put his hands on the counter on either side of her hips and lifted his head. The dark look in his eyes showed he hated this interruption as much as she did. 

She got lost for a moment in those eyes. She wanted him. Now. Here on the counter. The vibration stopped but began again a second later. Jake swung her down so she stood again on the kitchen’s taupe tile. 

“You’d better answer that.” He backed away, his desire palpable.

Claire reached into her back pocket, warm from Jake’s touch, and pulled out the scarlet phone.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded breathy to her own ears.

“You know, I don’t like to work this hard for the things I want. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Panic exploded in her stomach at the first syllable from the Voice of Doom. Claire looked up at Jake, who cocked his head in question.

“I understand. You want the phone and flash drive, but I don’t have them. I looked everywhere.” 

Jake stepped closer. He leaned his head toward the phone. She angled it outward so he could listen.

“Your lack of results has, well… Sweetheart, I’m not the kind of guy you want angry.” His voice pitched lower, sounding more like he did at the train tracks. “Lucky for me, I’m not angry. I. Am. Furious.”

Claire’s temper snapped. Again. This nutcase killed Kendall. He threatened her and her family. He trashed her house. And he had the gall to go all drama king on her for something she didn’t have and couldn’t find? She’d had enough.

“Welcome to the club, asshole, because I’m not too happy myself after the job you did on my house.”  

“Just wait, Kitten, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He hung up on her. Again. 

 Claire’s fingers itched to throw the phone across the room, but her rational, penny-pinching side intervened. With deliberate care, she placed it on the counter.

“The guy is unhinged,” Jake said.

“Yeah, I think the meth mind warp has set in. I’d give him the damn phone and flash drive if I had them. Why does he want them so badly?” Claire paced away from Jake, her bare feet slapping on the floor.

She stopped when Jake didn’t respond. Intuition kicked in.

He knew something. 

“What do you know?” Her gaze locked on him. He returned her look, but his face betrayed no emotion.

“Client confidentiality. I’d tell you if I could, but I can’t.” 

She stalked across the kitchen to him. 

“This guy is messing with my life.” She jabbed her pointer finger into Jake’s less-than-flexible pecs. “He wants the phone and flash drive enough to kill for them. If you know why, you’d better start talking. There are lives at stake!”

She stared up at his kiss-swollen lips. They stayed immobile. She counted to twenty, silently, and waited for a response. Jake remained quiet. 

Claire took a step back. Outrage dominated, but underneath was a nugget of regret for what could have happened if the phone hadn’t interrupted them.

“Get out.” 

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s not safe for you to be alone.” Jake took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. She shook her head and turned her back to him.

“So nice of you to care about my safety. Get out.” Unwanted tears threatening to cascade down her cheeks, making her vision blurry. 

“No.” He turned her around to face him. His thumb brushed away an escaped tear.

Claire focused on his scuffed boots, pushed his hands away from her face. “Please, just leave,” she said, her voice scratchy. 

She stayed rooted as his footsteps receded from the kitchen. The front door’s click announced Jake’s departure. She blinked slowly and bit her lip. A part of her, one she didn’t want to acknowledge, mourned.

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