so earlier and that word would’ve had him running for the hills, but now…
Well, now he was just overthinking things. Using the word home didn’t mean anything. He knew this thing with Tara was just a fling, just a way for them both to ease some stress during a crazy time. It didn’t mean anything. It sure as hell didn’t mean his feelings went any deeper than liking her. She was smart and funny and easy to talk to. He enjoyed being around her. That was all.
And sure, the sex was good. Great, in fact. Maybe the best sex he’d ever had with anyone. They seemed in tune with each other in a way he’d never experienced before. That didn’t mean he needed to go and get all tangled up emotionally about it. On the contrary. He needed to keep his head clear so he could get the job done, same as always. Forget possessiveness. Forget the way his chest ached whenever he thought about when all this was over and they’d go back to their separate lives.
That didn’t mean a damned thing. And the sooner he remembered that, the better.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled into a parking spot at the curb near Tara’s place and got out. He went inside to find her and Ashley sitting at the kitchen table working on a puzzle together.
“Hey,” Tara said, smiling over at him and making his pulse stumble like an old drunk. “How’d the meeting with Bartlet go?”
“Good,” Clint said, closing the door behind him and tossing his keys on the side table, avoiding her gaze. “Fine. He told us to look into John Berger some more.”
“Okay. I suppose that’s not a bad idea,” Tara said. “You want some lemonade? Ashley and I just made a fresh pitcher.”
“No.” He frowned down at his phone as he scrolled through his emails. The last thing he needed now was to get wrapped up in what his daughter and Tara were doing and forget about his work. He’d been doing too much of that already lately. Not to mention, he wanted to put some space between Tara and the investigation. If the culprit was Bartlet or this other guy, John Berger, then it seemed like whoever was after her had personal motives that went beyond her position with GGE. Whether it was Berger’s resentment at Tara’s rise in the movement or Bartlet’s disturbing interest in Tara’s charms, Clint couldn’t say. But either way, he wanted it all way the hell away from her. “I’m going to do some research on my computer in the guest room.”
Tara got up from the table and walked over to where he was standing, her expression concerned. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He looked up at her, doing his best to ignore the flash of hurt in her eyes at his brusque tone and failing miserably. He wasn’t trying to be an ass, but damn. If he didn’t put a stop to his runaway emotions where she was concerned now, who knew where they would lead? Clint walked over and kissed the top of his daughter’s head in greeting, then sidestepped around Tara on his way down the hall. He hated hurting her, but he hated how vulnerable he felt even more. “I’ll be done in a little while. Then we can talk about dinner.”
16
Dinner was…odd.
The food was fine. Grilled chicken and salad and bread. The usual stuff. They’d made the food together, even Ashley helping out by putting the bread in a basket for them. Conversation was mainly Tara and Ashley talking about ideas for a new photo shoot for her Instagram account and Clint grunting or nodding his opinions.
But still, under all the normality, something felt off for Tara. And it wasn’t just her insecurities talking, either. Nope. She stood at the sink, rinsing off the dishes and sticking them in the dishwasher while Clint got Ashley ready for bed. He seemed guarded. Well, more guarded. Plus, she hadn’t missed the fact that every time she tried to bring up his meeting with Jacob Bartlet, Clint changed the subject. She’d get the info out of him, though, one way or another. She could be plenty persuasive when she needed to be. One more reason she was so good at her job.
“Anything I can help with?” Clint asked, returning to the kitchen a short while later, just as Tara was finishing up. He leaned his hips back against the counter a few feet away from her and had his damned phone