out again. She was all for staying up-to-date on emails and social media, but this was getting ridiculous tonight.
“Well, you can start by telling me what happened with Bartlet today,” she said, sliding the last dish into the dishwasher and closing the door before wiping her hands on a towel. “What did he say?”
Clint took a deep breath and shrugged, still not meeting her gaze. “Nothing we didn’t already know. I sent a report to the guys. They’re looking into it. Did the window repair guys come today?”
“Hmm.” Tara didn’t believe him for a second. Well, not the part about sending his report to the guys. That she bought. But not the rest of it. Jacob Bartlet had been on her radar as someone shifty since the first time she’d met him, and now here was Clint acting all squirrely. There was definitely more to that story. She finished wiping down the counters and the table, then hung the towel over the handle on the oven and stretched, yawning. “And yes. Ashley’s room is all fixed up and right as rain again.”
“Good.”
“You said he mentioned John Berger, right? How did that come up?”
“Huh?” Clint scowled down at his phone, then finally glanced up at her. “I mean, yeah. He mentioned him. Said he might be unhappy that you got the interim director spot. The guys are looking into it. They checked the footage from the security cameras too, to see if they could tell who threw the smoke bomb, but they haven’t found anything conclusive yet. Whoever it was knew what they were doing. Tossed it just right so it didn’t set off the alarms, at an angle where the cameras couldn’t get a clear shot.”
“Hmm.” Tara moved closer to him, determined to get the full truth out of him. She appreciated his attention to detail where her safety was concerned, but she wasn’t about to let him get away without telling her more about his interview earlier. “Was that all Bartlet said?”
Clint blinked at her a moment, then set his phone aside on the charging pad on the counter before waggling his fingers at her. “Come here.”
Tara hesitated. “Why?”
“Because…” His slow sexy grin sent hot tingles of want through her despite her wishes. He straightened and took another step in her direction, bringing them about six inches apart. The heat of his body penetrated the thin pink shirt she was wearing and the scent of soap and woodsy cologne from his shower earlier surrounded her. Clint reached over and grabbed the hem of her T-shirt gently between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t worry about my talk with Bartlet. Just be right here—with me. I missed you.”
One tug and she stumbled into him, her chest colliding with his as his strong arms pulled her closer. Her breasts brushed his pecs and her nipples hardened. Tara stared up at him, her cheeks hot and her lips parted. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she got the sense that this was all a distraction, an excuse to divert her attention from his interview with Bartlet and the information she wanted, but damn if she could bring herself to care at the moment. Besides, she must be misunderstanding somehow. Why would Clint want to keep information from her? They were in this together, weren’t they? She placed a hand over his heart, feeling it thunder right along with her own, his pupils blown wide with need and his body hardening in all the right places. “You did?”
Her words came out far more breathless than she intended, but then he slid his hand down her back to her butt, pressing her pelvis into his and rocking, letting her know in no uncertain terms that yeah. He wanted her all right. Molten heat gathered between her legs and she nearly gasped with pleasure.
“I did,” he whispered, bending to nuzzle the spot where her neck met her earlobe, the one that drove her nuts and made her want to dig her nails into his shoulders and arch against him. He growled low as she did just that, raising one leg to wrap it around his waist. “I do.”
Tara let her head fall back and Clint took full advantage, kissing his way down to the pulse point at the base of her neck while cupping one breast in his hand through her shirt, brushing the pad of his thumb over the taut peak, making her bite her lip to contain her helpless whimper. He did it