It wasn’t her fault he was strung out from wanting her. She’d never led him on or enticed him. Rachel was shy and quiet unless she was surrounded by people she felt comfortable with, an aftereffect of being raised by an aunt who reminded her daily what a burden she was. At least in his childhood, when he made himself invisible, he’d been left alone. She had been verbally abused and tormented no matter what she’d done.
His cell phone rang and he cursed as he withdrew it from his pocket. The caller ID told him it was Brian Simmons, a fellow deputy and a guy who’d saved Jack’s ass more than once.
“Killigrew,” he answered.
“So, have you seen her yet?”
“No.”
“Man, that would have been my first stop. She owns a cake shop; she might be huge and your problem would be solved.”
“Riley e-mails me pictures. No such luck.” And the fact was, Jack doubted it would make a difference to him if she had put on weight. He was attracted to the whole package, not just her looks. Besides, a few weeks sharing his bed would take care of any extra pounds.
“Well, then, you should think about what you’re throwing away. First off, there are those cupcakes of hers. If she stops sending them, the guys might have to hurt you. Second, I’d give anything to be with Layla right now. It kills me knowing she’s out there somewhere in WitSec—hopefully, still in love with me—and I can’t have her. You don’t have that problem; you’ve got permission. And although I haven’t seen much evidence of it, I’m sure you must have some charm to you. Lay it on her and see what happens.”
Jack knew he wasn’t what Rachel needed. He had nothing to offer her. Steve had a large extended family that enfolded her with open arms; Jack had only his job, and her and Riley. Steve was the steady and dependable type, a chiropractor who’d come home for dinner every night and was there for breakfast in the morning; Jack never knew when he’d be leaving or when he could come back. Rachel had lived with enough neglect and abandonment as a child. She didn’t need it in her adult life as well.
“She deserves better than me,” Jack said.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Against his determination to be in a shitty mood, Jack’s mouth curved. “Fuck you, too.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Same to you.” Jack shoved his phone back in his pocket and was lifting his beer to his lips when he heard a car door shut in what sounded like his driveway.
Pivoting in the sand, he canvassed the public beach just beyond his short picket fence. His attention narrowed on the side of his house just before a lipstick red dress rounded the corner. The slender body it encased caught his eye next and held it.
“I guessed you’d be out here,” Rachel said, waving. She headed toward the gate with a square cake pan in one hand.
Jack wanted to do the gentlemanly thing and let her in, but he couldn’t move. She’d cut her hair short and wore it in sexy, tousled curls that exposed her slender neck and emphasized her fine-boned features. As she passed by him, he saw the back—or, rather, lack of a back—to her dress. Held up by thin straps, the material dipped down to the upper swell of her buttocks, betraying the lack of a bra.
Jesus. She’d lost her mind coming around him dressed like that.
“What are you doing here?” he asked without finesse, his gut aching from a soul-deep longing. He rubbed at the center of his chest with the bottom edge of his bottle but found no relief.
“You said no to lunch and dinner but didn’t decline dessert.”
She came through the gate, her long legs on display thanks to the short skirt and two-inch slit at her right thigh. There was no hesitation in her approach, which changed the rules of engagement. She’d never outright avoided him, but she hadn’t gone out of her way to be near him either.
Lifting onto her tiptoes, she balanced herself with a hand over his heart and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “You look fabulous, Jack,” she murmured. “It’s really good to see you again.”
Jack wondered if she was aware of the soft note of invitation in her words or how it made his heart race beneath her palm. He didn’t want her under a sense of obligation. He didn’t want to be the tie that bound her to memories of her past with Steve. And he sure as hell didn’t want her martyring herself in his bed.
“But,” she went on, stepping back, “I’m not so sure you’re happy to see me.”
He took the opportunity to breathe, sucking in the salt-tinged air in an effort to clear his head. “I’m just surprised but in a good way.”
Rachel smiled. Her fingertips slid down his arm to his wrist, then circled the neck of his beer bottle. She tugged it loose and took a long pull, her lips wrapped around the top and her throat working with each swallow.
His mind fell straight into the gutter.
He turned as she skirted him and went into the house. He hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on and she didn’t, either. Instead, she used the fading sun as a guide to reach the kitchen island. A moment later a flare in the shadows preceded the igniting of a candlewick. The property management company had scattered groupings of seashell-covered candles all over the house, part of the nautical theme they’d utilized throughout.
“I’d forgotten how charming this place is,” she called out to him.
Jack debated the wisdom of following her inside, knowing the leash on his hunger was tenuous at best. “I can’t take credit for it. It’s staged by professionals to appeal to the vacation renters.”