And you snuck into some company after hours to dig up dirt they don’t want you to have—”
“I didn’t sneak anywhere. I was escorted by a source. It was perfectly fine.”
“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms. “Who’d you say that source was again?”
“I didn’t.”
“If everything was fine, how come you’re still shaking? And how did you end up in a parking garage barefoot?”
She blew out a breath. “It’s a long story.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I’ll tell you later. I can’t yet.”
Jacob’s chest tightened. He gazed down at her gray eyes and her flushed skin, and he hated that she was hiding shit from him. He hated even more that she was stubborn as hell, and he couldn’t make her tell him a damn thing.
“I will, Jacob. Trust me.”
* * *
* * *
BAILEY FULLY INTENDED to tell him. Soon. As soon as she had the rest of the info she needed from Seth, and she could present the facts to Jacob in a cohesive way that didn’t make her sound like some wacky conspiracy theorist. Hopefully, it would only be a few more hours.
Jacob glared down at her, and she could feel that pent-up emotion he was trying not to show. He was trying to be low key, like getting stood up didn’t matter and he hadn’t been worried about where she was.
How long had he waited at Eli’s? She didn’t know, but it pained her to think of him sitting there wondering what had happened. She could see he’d gone home at some point because instead of his detective clothes, he now wore jeans and a black T-shirt, along with scarred leather work boots with tiny flecks of paint that matched the color of his house.
He shook his head and looked away.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re frustrating, you know that?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I get that a lot.”
He stepped closer, and her nerves fluttered at the dangerous gleam in those dark brown eyes.
He dipped his head down and kissed her. It was hot and intense, and she went up on tiptoes and kissed him back the same way. He was angry. She got that. But somehow that made the kiss even better, and she combed her fingers into his hair and dug her nails into his scalp.
He tasted sharp and musky, and she realized she’d missed him, which didn’t make any sense, really, but there it was. She kissed him harder, nipping his lip and eliciting a low groan. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She felt edgy and anxious, and she was spoiling for a fight. Or some good sex.
He clutched her hips, and she felt the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric of the dress. She pressed her breasts against him, and next thing she knew he’d lifted her off her feet and was walking her backward toward the living room. The backs of her thighs bumped against the sofa arm.
She pulled back and rested her palm on his chest. “Where’s your gun?”
“Ankle holster.”
“Take it off.”
He gazed down at her for a moment and then crouched down, hitching up the cuff of his jeans to pull a compact black pistol from his boot. He crossed the room to lock her front door and set the pistol on the counter. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and tossed it beside the gun, then dug out his phone and keys and added them to the pile. Bailey sat on the sofa arm, watching him with a warm tingle in the pit of her stomach.
He came to stand in front of her. She was eye-level with his chest, and he brushed a curl out of her face and tucked it behind her ear.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He bent down and kissed her again. Her fingers traced over the stubble along his jaw, then slid around his neck and pulled him close. He lowered her back onto the sofa and hovered over her, and the intent look in his eyes made her heart skitter. She scooted back on the cushions to make room for him.
He rested his knee between her legs and gazed down at her. “You said you wanted to put the brakes on.”
God, had she said that? She had. Yesterday. Or the day before. When she’d been leaving his house feeling snubbed after that phone call.
Jacob looked at her with those solemn brown eyes. He was asking her what she wanted, giving her one more chance to change her mind.
“Come here.” She dragged his head down and kissed him,