“Hi back.” Her head fell against his shoulder and she allowed herself the temporary luxury of leaning into him. His chest was bare, hard, and warm. “I like the flowers.”
“Good.” The tip of his tongue touched the lobe of her ear; then he caught it between his teeth. “I walked in the door and the smell of dinner made me hungry. Now I’ve smelled you and I’m starving.”
He wasn’t talking about food, she knew. That was proven when his hands slid down the flat plane of her stomach and gripped her thighs just beneath the hem of her baby doll.
“Did you get some work done?” he breathed, bending his knees to press his erection against the swell of her buttocks.
Ana became so aroused the denim of his jeans and the cotton of her baby doll might as well have not been there. She dropped the salad servers into the bowl, shaken by the lust that burned through her. It felt as if she’d been numb for ages and was suddenly reawakened to sensation, overwhelmed by the vibrancy of it after living through miserable loneliness. “Yes, I did. How was your day?”
“I spent the last half of it thinking about you and cursing the paperwork I needed to clear so I could stay home tomorrow.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “Oh?”
“Before you leave my bed, Anastasia, you’re going to explain to me why we’re not together.”
“Jake—” Her words cut off as his fingers pushed under the elastic edge of her lace thong. She was slick and hot, primed for him by deprivation and the depth of her love. His fingertip slid between the lips of her sex, stroking through the moisture to tease her clitoris.
“You still want me.” He pulled her back against him and rolled his hips, making sure she felt the steely hardness of his erection. “And you know I’ve never stopped wanting you. We should be in the same bed every night and the same house every day. We both know it.”
He stepped back, removing his touch and leaving her bereft. “Can I help with anything?”
Ana shot a narrow-eyed glance at him over her shoulder and found him grinning unrepentantly. He wore a pair of soft, well-worn jeans that hung low on his hips and nothing else. His hair was longer than it had seemed with his hat on. Dark as night and glossy, his hair had always been a lure to her. She loved to run her fingers through it and clench it in her fists as he pleasured her.
“You can set the table,” she told him.
He washed his hands at the sink and set to work, not surprising her in the least by having all the necessary components of a dinner setting—cloth napkins, salad and dinner plates, silverware, and placemats. She could imagine him dishing up dinner for Eric every night, ensuring that his brother had as near to a traditional family life as possible.
How ironic that Jake had encouraged Eric to spend time with Frank. He’d thought the Miller family was ideal—the yarn shop owner, the computer guru, and their two kids. Jake believed Frankie would be a good influence on his troubled, grieving brother. He had no idea that her dad had been a hacker, her mom a fence, and Frankie covered everything in between.
It’d broken her heart not to clue him in. And now the heist was weighing heavily on her mind. So many secrets between them. Too many.
They sat down for dinner and Jake sliced the pot roast with quick efficiency.
“How’s Eric doing?” she asked him, as she poured the wine.
“Good. Although I wish he’d go to graduate school or join the military. He’s a smart kid and he works hard when he’s motivated. When he’s not, he doesn’t apply himself.”
“Frankie’s got the same problem. Lots of potential, too little drive. I’m afraid he’s been a bad influence on your brother.”
Jake slid a slice of pot roast off the end of the carving knife and onto her plate. “Are you kidding? Before Frankie came along, Eric was in and out of trouble all the time—shoplifting, vandalism, boosting cars. Frankie changed all that.”
“Frankie just taught Eric to be smarter about it, so he didn’t get caught.”
She sighed at the skeptical look he shot her. Like many cops, Jake couldn’t believe anyone could pull the wool over his eyes, especially not his own brother. But there weren’t many cops who ran across top-shelf grifters like her parents, and both she and Frankie had learned their lessons well.
He took a drink of his wine and asked, “So you’re passing through on a job? You still doing investigative work for insurance companies?”
“Most of the time, yes.”
“What’s the job you’re on now?”
“Chasing down jewels taken during a heist, including a valuable tiara set with pink diamonds.”
“Oh?” His blue eyes flared with interest. “Big take?”
“Approximately forty million.”
He whistled. “How much do you get for the recovery?”