that space made the most sense as an office. It held a leather love seat, some bookshelves and had a desk positioned near the window overlooking the beach. At least he'd have something pretty to look at when he pretended to be writing.
"I don't usually do this kind of thing for an author," she said, perching on the love seat and beginning to tear open the package of dry-erase markers. "I'm not the office help, you know."
"Feel free to leave it to me," Griffin offered, setting the boxes on the desk. Getting her out of his hair was going to be even easier than he'd thought. "I'll let you know when I need your services."
"Why do I think that might be on a cold day in hell?" she asked, her voice dry.
He popped open the cardboard flaps of the laptop carton and then struggled to lift the sleek machine from its Styrofoam nest. "It might freeze over before I can get this damn computer free," he muttered.
"Let me help." She tossed down a package of pencils and walked over to grip the edges of the box. "Now pull."
She was close. Too close. He breathed in the fragrance of her shampoo and felt the radiating warmth of her small body. His muscles tensed. When he didn't move, she glanced up. It brought her mouth close. Too close.
They stared at each other.
"We should talk," she suddenly said.
And just as suddenly, Griffin didn't want to. The subject would be the kissing and caressing of the day before. Knowing Jane, her type of "talk" would be to dissect the event. The practical librarian in her would surely speak in terms of hormonal reactions and biological directives. Her governess tendencies would prod her to start spouting rule after rule and the consequences of breaking them.
Prompting Griffin to want to do just that very thing - break rules - as soon as possible.
His glance lowered from her silver eyes to her plump mouth. He remembered the sweetness to be discovered inside of it. Her instant pliancy when he thrust against her tongue. The rush of blood to his cock, the first erection he'd managed in months.
He was half-hard again just thinking about it, and he didn't want to take away from that common miracle by getting all clinical.
Nothing she said could explain why he had her panties stuffed in the bottom of his right pocket at this very moment. And he didn't want to try justifying it to himself, either.
"My visit to my dad's house brought something to mind," Jane continued. "I'm...I'm worried about your niece."
The non sequitur - at least to his train of thought - rocked Griffin back on his heels. He'd been obsessing about hot kisses and hard-ons and she was thinking about his family?
He yanked the Styrofoam-and-laptop sandwich free of the box. "Not my problem," he growled. Jane was his problem! Her maddening, confounding, unpredictable ways. Buttoned up on top, oh-baby on the bottom. Mouth made for sin, mind bent on meddling.
"You see," Jane persisted. "Rebecca - "
"Why don't you go away now?" he said, stopping her before she got going. "I'll take care of the rest."
She blinked at him. "What's the matter with you?"
He considered smoldering at her, but he thought it wiser to refrain from its overuse. Instead, it would be his tactic of last resort. So he blew out a breath and made some lame excuse about not getting enough a.m. caffeine.
At least she returned to the love seat and continued tearing into the packages of office supplies, giving him a little more breathing room. His gaze wandered out the window. From here he could see his sister under a beach umbrella, that littlest kid of hers playing with plastic blocks on a blanket. The hoodlums-in-the-making were running in circles, chasing each other with clumps of dripping seaweed.
Huh. Maybe he should show them where Rex Monroe parked his car.
Then his niece wandered into his line of sight, dressed in a bikini top with a sarong wrapped around her narrow hips. Her slow movements and put-upon expression made clear she was dragging the heavy weight of teen martyrdom behind her.
Not my problem.
They were all going to grow up one day, from the one who smelled like diaper wipes to the girl with the grumpy face, and make choices or take orders that would put them in harm's way. He couldn't stop that. All he could do was separate from them so whatever happened couldn't hurt him.