“I wish you’d reserve more time here for yourself.” She lit another candle. “We’d love to see you more often.”
“I’m thinking about it.” Knowing it would be ridiculous to keep shouting at her from outside, Jack entered the living room. “I’d like to start spending more time with Riley, now that he’s older.”
“He’d love that.” Turning away from him, she searched the cupboards.
“The plates are to the left of the fridge,” he directed. He watched the way the hem of her skirt lifted a couple tantalizing inches as she reached upward. Feeling like a randy dog, he looked away, then couldn’t resist looking back again. “What have you got there?”
She looked over her shoulder and her mouth curved. “Better Than Sex cake.”
Jack searched for a sign that she was joking. “Whoever came up with that doesn’t get out much.”
Her laughter hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d always loved that carefree sound. It said so much about her. She made him laugh, too, with her e-mailed stories about hysterical run-ins with customers. He’d startled his fellow deputies more than once by laughing aloud at something she sent him. She brought light into his life, which made him even more aware of the darkness he could bring into hers.
It figured he would fall for the one woman he was the worst possible fit for.
Kicking off her low-heeled sandals by the island, she padded over with a single plate in her hand. “I make a cupcake-sized version of this at the store. It’s one of my most popular flavors.”
“Everything you make is popular. You’re an awesome cook.”
“Thank you. I can’t grill, though, so I’m relying on you to handle the hot dogs and burgers tomorrow.”
“Put me to work. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
One dirty blond brow rose with challenge. “Don’t complain later when I take you up on that.”
Again, there was a suggestive undertone to her words. He forced his gaze away and down at the cake, noting what looked to be caramel drizzle over the top. He wanted to drizzle caramel all over her body and tongue it off slowly. Endlessly. Licking through it to the sweeter flesh beneath.
“Here.” She stabbed at the cake with the fork in her hand and lifted a bite to his lips.
He opened his mouth. The cake was rich but not too rich. “Very good,” he praised, happy to see her cheeks flush with pleasure. “But it’s not better than sex.”
Her blue eyes sparkled with silent laughter. “Prove it.”
chapter three
The tension that gripped Jack at her bold statement was so tangible Rachel felt it. She waited with bated breath, her heart skipping at the scorching look he raked her with. That sharply focused intensity had been too much for her when she’d been younger.
Dear God . . . he was gorgeous. Impossibly sexy. Standing there in only button-fly jeans with the top button undone. He was leaner than she remembered, his features more angular. She bet he wasn’t taking care of himself. He was likely working too hard and not eating often enough. There wasn’t an ounce of extraneous flesh on him. Every muscle was clearly, deliciously defined. His arms, his pectorals, his abdomen.
He could drive a woman crazy, especially with that air of danger clinging to him. It was evident, just by looking at him, that there were very few things he wouldn’t do if necessary. There were scars all over him—a puckered bullet hole by his shoulder, slashing scars across his abdomen, an old burn mark on his forearm, just to name a few.
As long as Rachel had known him, he’d always lived life on a razor’s edge, first as a U.S. Army Ranger and now as a deputy marshal. Any woman who loved him would have to accept the hazards inherent in the work he did. His job would always be his mistress. It would pull him from his wife’s bed at all hours of the night, luring him into deadly situations while the scent of his desire still clung to her skin.
Rachel hadn’t believed she could ever take on a man like him, but she’d underestimated her capacity to grow and change. Since she and Jack had first met, she’d had a wonderful eight-year marriage. She had persevered through an ectopic pregnancy, the death of her mother and beloved husband, the launching of her own small business, and the terrifying process of learning how to be a single mother.
She was no longer the woman who’d been married to Steve Tse. She was now the woman who’d survived him, and they were two very different people.
The woman she was today was more than capable of tackling a challenge like Jack Killigrew. And by God, she intended to.
He finally spoke. “What did you just say?”
Rachel wondered if he knew the impact his low, whisky-rough voice had on women. “It’s been a long time for me, Jack.”
“Hell.” He retreated. Shoving his hands through his short dark hair, he turned his back to her. “You shouldn’t have drunk that beer.”
Lord have mercy. The way he moved and spoke was intensely sensual. Just the flexing of his muscles was totally erotic.
She became even more determined to have all that virility focused on her. “I don’t need false courage to hit on you.”