her voice. “Did something happen?”
“Uh, no. Not exactly.” She sidled past him, then led him down a short hall and into a large, open concept living room. This room had obviously been updated and renovated through the years, though many elements of the classic Tudor-style architecture were still present thanks to exposed pipes in the ceiling and brick on the walls. This place had been an old manufacturing headquarters at one time, if he remembered right. Still, the wall of windows covering one side offered exceptional views of downtown Atlanta and gave the place an airy feel. Had to have cost a pretty penny, though, which made him wonder how much environmentalists made. Tara walked into the open style kitchen and offered him a drink, which he declined. The kitchen had been updated too, with lots of granite and stainless-steel appliances. Nice. It certainly seemed like she could afford the maintenance on the trim and the window casings—maybe she just hadn’t noticed the need. She seemed pretty fully focused on her work.
She turned and leaned back against the large island there, crossing her arms, pulling her hoodie tighter around her even though it wasn’t that cold. “Nothing’s happened. I’ve just been alone since I got home and it’s bothering me more now since the shooting than I wanted to admit earlier.”
“Hmm. Understandable.” He followed her as she gave him a tour of the place and yeah, older home, but definitely nice—and pretty large, with four bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms. As he trailed behind her, he noted all the locks and points of possible entry. The windows at least looked secure. They passed the laundry room and Clint quickly dropped his gaze when he caught sight of a lacy thong atop a stack of folded items on the dryer. His mouth dried and damn. Now that image was going to be stuck in his head all night. Especially after the glimpse he’d gotten earlier today. Given her taste in bras, he shouldn’t have been surprised about an equally lacy thong, but still.
Ugh. Stop thinking about her underwear. Do. Not. Go. There. Nope. Not again.
Except the more he tried to force himself to stop imagining it, the more it stayed in his brain.
“So, what do you think?” she asked as they completed their tour and stopped back in the living room again. Without the high heels she’d been wearing earlier at the office, Tara was a good foot shorter than his 6’6” height and had to look up to meet his gaze. Clint couldn’t help noticing that in her stockinged feet, she barely came up to his mid-chest, and it made him feel even more protective of her. Then she smiled up at him and damn if his traitorous body didn’t tighten again despite his wishes, sending all his good intentions perilously close to down the drain. “Am I savable?”
“Um…” Clint blinked down at her, unable to stop staring at that mouth of hers. Oh yeah. She was savable all right. Also, kissable and huggable and if he got her in that bedroom back there and naked beneath him, he was sure she’d be infinitely fuckable too.
Whoa.
He took a step back, grateful beyond belief for the cell phone buzzing in his pocket to distract him from what would have been a horrible mistake. This time it was him holding up a finger for Tara to hold on. When Mrs. Crocker’s number flashed on the screen, his heart tripped. Had something happened to his daughter? He exhaled slowly and pressed the answer button, dreading what he was about to hear.
“Clinton, it’s Mrs. Crocker,” the older lady said, her tone a bit anxious. “There’s a problem here.”
Damn. He’d worried that having precocious a six-year-old underfoot would be too inconvenient for his elderly neighbor, and it seemed like he’d been right. Lord knew he’d heard that same tone far too often since he’d been raising his daughter on his own. Between her boundless energy and the fact she was far too smart for her young age, she could be a lot to handle. Clint cleared his throat and said, “Is everything okay?”
“Something’s happened to your house.”
That stopped his train of thoughts in their tracks. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Well, Ashley forgot an assignment from school, so I brought her to your place to get it and it’s a good thing too, since the whole upstairs was flooded.”
“Flooded? How the—” Crap. Clint raked a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around this