this right now. Please.”
He shrugged, picked up his jeans, and whispered, “Okay, but this is crazy, Daph.”
“Mama?” Ellery called through the thankfully locked door.
“Just a minute, honey,” Daphne called.
“Are you sick?” Ellery asked, and Daphne envisioned her backing away from the door. Ellery was a classic germophobe and kept hand sanitizer in every bag. Her worst nightmare was a stomach virus.
“No, no, I just slept in. Had trouble sleeping last night,” she said, noting that it wasn’t a lie. She hadn’t slept much, but when she had, it had been hard sleep, cradled in the arms of a man who’d worn her out.
Clay gave a soft, sexy laugh.
Daphne shot him a quelling look and jabbed her finger at the window.
Okay. She could do this. Get Ellery away from the door. Give her something to do. “Hey, sugar, would you mind putting the kettle on? I desperately need tea. I’ll get dressed and be right out.”
“Sure,” Ellery said outside the door. “If you certain you’re okay? You sound weird.”
“I’m fine. Promise.”
“Well, Clay left his truck here, but I don’t see him. You should tell him not to do that. People will get the wrong impression,” Ellery said, her footsteps sounding as she moved away from the bedroom door and back toward the kitchen. Thank heavens.
Clay actually had the gall to laugh again.
“Shh!” Daphne’s mind raced as Clay tugged on his jeans and looked around for his shirt. Clay’s truck was here, but what else had he left behind? She’d left the plates in the sink and the glasses on the coffee table. Would Ellery notice? She would. Daphne knew she would.
“Uh, Daph, I think my shirt’s in the living room,” Clay said, grabbing his boots and then snagging the socks he’d toed off when they’d tumbled into bed.
“Oh shit,” Daphne breathed. Last night during their make-out session on the couch, she’d tugged his shirt off him and tossed it somewhere. Where had she tossed it? The back of the couch? She couldn’t remember.
“Don’t worry. I have an extra in my truck,” he said, sitting on the bed and pulling on his boots. His hair was mussed, and he looked even younger in the morning sunlight streaming through her linen drapes. Lord, what had she done? She’d slept with a man-child merely because she’d needed to get sexed up. She was a horrible, horrible person.
Clay sprang from the bed and pulled the cord on the drapes. Quietly as he could, he unlocked the window and eased it up. Daphne walked over and peered out. The house was pier and beam and sat a good four feet off the ground. The window made it six feet at least. What if he broke an ankle? “Be careful.”
Clay hooked an arm and pulled her to him. He kissed the indentation in her throat, his tongue coming out for a small taste. She closed her eyes at how good it felt. “Last night was awesome. One of the best I’ve had. You were incredible.”
Daphne could do nothing more than nod because it wasn’t a lie. Then she gave him a little nudge. “We’ll talk later. Go.”
Clay swung his legs out and, with a grunt, landed on the ground beneath. He looked up at her and winked. “See ya in, like, five minutes.”
Daphne closed the window, lowered the blinds, and then leaned against the wall. The ramifications of her stupidity slammed into her. She’d slept with her daughter’s ex-boyfriend like some horny old slut. What had she been thinking?
Well, she hadn’t. That was the problem.
After the kiss at the table after dinner, she’d cleared the table and brought the pie and newly opened bottle of wine to the living room. Her intentions had been clear . . . at least to the rational part of herself. She would have a slice of pie, one more glass of wine, talk about the weather, and then send her hot contractor on his way. No problem. She was a woman in control of her life, decisions, and traitorous body.
But Clay had patted the seat next to him. “Come on. I won’t bite you. Unless you want me to.” He lifted his eyebrows, the ever-consummate flirt.
“See?” she’d said, choosing the chair farthest away. It had been her grandmother’s, and she’d had it reupholstered last year. “You say things like that, and it means I can’t sit there.”
“Aw, come on, Daph. You’re acting like we can’t sleep together if we want to.”
“Exactly. We can’t.”
Clay made a face. “Yeah, we can. We’re both