He glared at her, his eyes narrowing as though she were indeed putting him out.
“Come on.” He nodded toward the office. “Would you like coffee or a soft drink?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and entered the office.
The door closed forcefully behind her, causing her to jump and turn in surprise to face the glare that had turned into brooding anger.
“Since when the hell do you call me sheriff, Hannah?” he growled as he stalked to his desk before turning back to her, his expression dark.
“Well, you are the sheriff.” She hooked the strap of her purse over her shoulder before crossing her arms mutinously over her breasts. Mostly to hide the fact that her nipples were hardening in his presence.
His frown deepened. “You didn’t call me sheriff last summer.”
“Last summer we had two dinner dates and I never heard back from you.” She smiled sweetly to cover the fact that it bothered her. A lot. He hadn’t even kissed her. Two wasted evenings, two wasted weeks waiting, hoping, fantasizing. For nothing.
The bastard.
“So we’re strangers because I never took you out again?” If anything he seemed angrier.
Hannah sighed wearily. “No, Rick, I’m not here because of a dinner date or as a friend. I’m here because I need your advice in an official capacity.”
He didn’t move, he didn’t even seem to breathe. He turned to ice. She watched the transformation in fascination. Pure ice. Icy golden eyes, expressionless face, stone-cold.
“In what manner?” Even his tone was cold.
“Can I sit down?” She moved to the chair anyway, wishing her knees didn’t shake and that her clit didn’t ache. Jeeze, she had it bad here.
“What kind of trouble are you in?” He answered her question with one of his own.
Hannah sat back in her chair and regarded him silently for a long moment before she let a wry grin touch her lips. “Hopefully none at all, Sheriff Grayson, unless it’s breaking the law to have prowlers attempting to break into my house.”
His expression slowly thawed until he was staring back at her in surprise. “When?”
“Last night.” She sighed. “I called nine-one-one and they sent out two patrol officers, but as soon as whoever it was heard the sirens they ran. They were nearly inside the house.”
She could still feel the shaky terror that had assailed her the night before when she had been awakened by her Pomeranian, Chilli’s, growls. He hadn’t barked, which had been her first clue there was trouble, because Chilli was a barker. Unless he was scared. Then he growled. Low and deep, and not a single bark escaped.
“I called nine-one-one when I heard someone at the back door,” she explained. “They were turning the doorknob when the patrol cars came down the street, sirens wailing.”
“You have a security system?” he asked.
Hannah nodded. “I do, and I set it before I went to bed. But it took the police nearly ten minutes to get to the house. They were almost in the house before the patrol cars arrived. I need to know what else I can do to keep them out of my home if they try it again.”
She was scared. Rick could see it in her pretty green eyes. About as scared as a woman could be of what might happen. And he didn’t blame her one damned bit.
“Do you have a gun?” he asked.
She nodded slowly. “It was Dad’s. I know how to shoot it, but I’d like to keep it from coming to that. And I have to be awake to use it. If they get in while I’m asleep, and Chilli doesn’t hear them, then anything could happen.”
Rick thought about the red Pom and doubted a breeze could get past that temperamental pooch without it knowing.
The thought that someone was trying to break into her home had the hairs at the back of his neck standing up in alarm, though.
“I just need some advice.” She leaned forward, the scooped neckline of her navy blue shirt giving a hint of cleavage that would make any man’s mouth water. “Tell me what to buy, what to do, to make the house safer and I’ll do it.”
He had to drag his gaze from the top of her breasts and force himself to focus on the sincere, rounded little face.
Damn, she was pretty. She wasn’t beautiful, but she was pretty. Unique. Dark wavy brown hair fell below her shoulders. Wide green eyes watched the world with a hint of innocence. White, slightly uneven teeth nibbled at a plump lower lip that tempted a man to taste.
She tempted him and therefore he stayed way the hell away. She tempted him bad, so he stayed far, far away.
As he rubbed at his jaw he considered her thoughtfully, his guts tightening at the thought of what could have happened if a prowler had managed to get into the house. She could have been raped, murdered. That bright smile and brighter gaze could have been gone forever.
“Why don’t I stop by the house on my way home this evening and check things over, see what we can do?” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what the hell he was saying.
Where had that come from? And what the fuck was he supposed to do with the hard-on pounding beneath his jeans now? His cock was tight, erect, throbbing and pushing against the zipper as though trying to burst free to get to her.
Just what he needed. Son of a bitch, was he crazy? Had he managed to lose his mind somewhere since he woke up that morning?
Then that incredible smile of hers transformed her face from pretty, to alluring. Mysterious. Her green eyes brightened with relief and she took what appeared to be a fortifying breath. It lifted her breasts and left his mouth dry.
Hell. He liked that smile.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” She rose to her feet, drawing his gaze to the perfect fit of her jeans. Not too snug, not too loose. Just enough to show the rounded hips and gentle silhouette of her body.
Out of politeness, he rose as well, when he would have preferred to sit and stare like a hungry dog.
“I’m sure I don’t mind,” he promised her, standing still as she moved from the chair and prepared to turn for the door. He wanted to be behind her when she walked away.
“Thanks, Rick,” she said softly, her voice as filled with relief as her smile had been. “I’ve worried myself sick since last night. I haven’t slept a wink.”
“I’ll be there around seven, then,” he promised.
“I . . . I could fix you dinner?” Her voice was hesitant as though she wasn’t certain she should offer.
“Fried chicken?” Hannah Brookes could fry some killer chicken. He’d had the pleasure of sampling it at a school dinner when Kent had been in kindergarten. It was damned good.
Her smile lit up the office. “Done deal,” she promised. “I’ll see you this evening, then.”
Stupid. Stupid. He cursed himself for his wayward tongue and his stubborn hard-on. But he still waited until she turned before moving from his desk.
He watched her walk. The bunch and clench of her rear beneath those jeans made his jaw tighten.
He reached past her as they got to the door, and opened it for her, watching as she turned back to him.
“Thank you again,” she said softly.
“You’re welcome, Hannah.” He closed the door on that bright smile before he did something really foolish. Something dumb like jerking her back inside his office and pushing her across his desk.
Damn, it had been too long since he’d been with a woman, he told himself. More than four years. Two years before Sienna died, give or take a few months. He hadn’t had sex with his wife, and he hadn’t cheated on her. And after her death, he had been too wary, too filled with a darkness that didn’t make sense to him.
Hannah had brought out that darkness. The two dinner dates they’d had, he’d been tense, hungry for something that had nothing to do with food, and had had him off balance just enough to cause him to draw away.
Besides that, he knew Hannah Brookes. He’d known her all her life, and she wasn’t a one-night stand. Rick wasn’t looking for anything more than a few hot nights and a fond f
arewell.
No more marriage, no more betrayals, he’d promised himself. He’d known Sienna all her life too, but he’d never known who she really was on the inside.
He’d risked his son once already, he wasn’t going to do it again. Sienna may have been Kent’s mother, but the monster that dwelled inside her had been anything but maternal.
Shaking his head at the situation he had suddenly placed himself in, he paced back to the desk and threw himself into the chair as he stared at the door once again.
He couldn’t get it out of his mind. Someone had tried to break in on her. She was a schoolteacher; a burglar wasn’t going to make much from breaking into her home. There were a hell of a lot better hits on that street than her little house. That left other motives for trying to get to her. Those motives sent a chill racing up his spine.
He might not trust his instincts with women anymore, but he couldn’t get past the suspicion that if that prowler had managed to get in, then Hannah might not have survived the experience.
He could handle one evening and one fried chicken dinner, he assured himself as he pushed his fingers wearily through his hair. Hell, he’d survived two dinner dates last summer, hadn’t he? He hadn’t even kissed her, despite the nearly overwhelming urge to feast on that slightly full lower lip.
He had the self-control to resist. He’d resisted temptation for four years. Two years during his marriage, two years after his wife’s death. Sienna had taught him the hazards of giving in, and he promised himself he’d never make that mistake again.
CHAPTER 2
RICK ARRIVED at Hannah’s just a few minutes after seven and had to consciously steel himself against the woman that opened the door to his firm knock.
She was a kindergarten teacher, for God’s sake, he kept telling himself as he stared down at her, dressed in a soft summer dress. Shoulders bared, tan leather sandals on her feet. He expected polish, a bright red or maroon; instead, it was a soft pale pink that made him wonder if it was the same color as her nipples.
The thought had his cock harder, if possible, as he stepped into the house. There was matching polish on her fingernails. That creamy dark flesh pink that was driving him insane.
The dress was an added stimulation. It bared her softly tanned, shimmering skin. Thin straps and just a little hint of cleavage then it flowed like a whisper to below her knees. It wasn’t short, tight, or seductive, and all the more destructive for it.
It was feminine, just shy of innocent, with just a touch of flirty.
Damn, she was good.
“I’ll check the doors and windows, see what you need,” he said, barely managing to get the words past his throat. “I brought some locks and a few other things in case you need them.”
He’d brought a toolbox and bought enough damned dead bolts and security locks to reinforce Fort Knox.
“Thank you,” she murmured behind him as he headed to the back door. “Dinner will be in about an hour.”
He nodded, but didn’t dare look at her again.
“Did they dust for prints?” he asked as he walked through the kitchen.
“Yes, but I haven’t heard anything.” She was behind him. He could smell the scent of woman and a flirty, spicy fragrance that tempted his senses.
“I’ll see what I can find out tomorrow.” He unlocked the back door and went to work. The quicker he was finished, the quicker he could get the hell out of here. Get away from her. Before he messed up. And when Rick Grayson messed up, he really messed up.
WELL, HER LUCK was about as dismal as normal, Hannah thought as she watched Rick from beneath her lashes. The chicken was perfect, the mashed potatoes creamy and delicate, the fresh green beans and biscuits the perfect complement.
He was still stiff as a board and talking in monosyllables. As though he hated being there. And the tension was so damned thick she could have cut it with a knife.
He’d replaced her dead bolts and her locks, drilled out deeper anchors for the bolts, installed additional window locks, and instructed her to keep her cell phone by the bed and her bedroom door locked at night.
She promised to do it. He had nodded stiffly and sat down to dinner.
It reminded her of the two dates they’d had the summer before. Stiff, stilted, and filled with tension.
Yep, that was her luck. She hadn’t had a decent date in years, and it had been even longer since she’d actually had a lover.
“I’m sorry I kept you so long.” She moved to her feet and began to whisk the remainder of the dinner from the table before returning for the dirty dishes.
He was still sitting there, nursing that cup of coffee between his fingers as though it were a lifeline of some sort.
“The chicken was delicious, Hannah. Thank you.” He watched her, his gaze shuttered as she returned to the dining room.
“You’re welcome.” Okay, so her voice was a little crisp, but it wasn’t nasty. She wasn’t being impolite, she was just eager to have this failure of an evening over, as well.
She picked up the side dishes and went back to the kitchen. Dumping them in the sink, she turned to return to the dining room when she suddenly ran into a broad, hard, wide chest.
Rick’s hard body. His hands settled on her hips as though to steady her, and she might have needed the help because suddenly her knees were weak, her head spinning.
Her head lifted, tilting back to stare up at him. He was a foot taller than she was, wider, stronger, so masculine he stole her breath and made her so wet she was certain to have to change pan ties once he left.
She’d been wet before they ever sat down to dinner. She should have excused herself during the meal.
And now, she could feel the slick wetness increasing, her sex flexing, clenching in need.
What was it about this one man? What made her body ache for him, her imagination dream of him? Why was she so fascinated with a man that didn’t want . . .
Her eyes widened as she felt the hard wedge of flesh against her stomach. His erection behind the denim of his jeans.
“Why look so surprised?” he growled, his voice deeper, rougher. “Surely you knew what the hell you do to me?”
Her mouth went dry. Shaking her head slowly, Hannah let her fingers curl tighter around his wrists, felt the tough flesh beneath her fingertips, and wondered how his fingers would feel against her.
“You never seemed interested.” She swallowed tightly.
“Not interested?” His hands tightened at her hips. “I think we just ruled that one out.”
Her lips parted as his head lowered slowly. His gaze locked with hers, and it seemed to Hannah that the world suddenly moved in slow motion as she waited for this kiss. Waited to feel his lips against hers, to touch him, to taste him.
It was happening too slowly, and it was happening too fast. Something seemed off balance, not quite what she had expected from him.
One hand moved from her hip to cup her face, tilt her head. She suddenly felt incredibly small and feminine, helpless against him, as her hands fluttered uncertainly before landing on his chest.
“Rick?” She whispered his name as his lips brushed against hers, light as a feather, heated, firm.
“Yeah, baby.” Suddenly she was floating, lifting against him, until she felt her rear meet the counter as he moved between her thighs and his lips settled hungrily over hers.
This was no introductory kiss. There was no initial exploration. It was an explosion through her senses. His lips settled over hers as his tongue licked, stroked the seam of her lips until they parted.
Then he was taking what he wanted. Hannah found herself helpless against the pleasure, her hands clenching on his shoulders as she fought against the dizzying waves of sensation that shot through her body.
She could feel his erection pressing between her thighs. His hands were on her hips again, moving her against him, sliding around until he was cupping her rear, the throbbing heat of his cock penetrating his jeans and her pan ties to stroke liquid fir
e through the core of her.
It was so much, so fast. It was a sudden maelstrom of near ecstasy that stole her breath and left her gasping. Fighting for balance as his lust, her hunger, raged through her, burning across her nerve endings and sending her senses spinning.
She became lost in it. Pulled into a vortex that she couldn’t stop, that she didn’t want to stop. Her fingers threaded through his hair, longer than it had ever been, thick and cool to the touch as she held him to her.
His lips slanted over hers as she licked at his tongue. He sipped at her lips as she fought for that deeper caress again. His hands ground her against him, the hard wedge of his erection pressing into her clit and sending rioting waves of pleasure tearing through her.
Rick couldn’t believe the maddening hunger that flared between them. Just that fast. Just the touch of his lips against hers and the raging hunger took control, stripped him down to the need that burned like wildfire in the pit of his belly, and left him helpless against his desire for her.
He’d never known a kiss like this. Brutally hot, starving, as though this kiss were feeding a part of his senses that he’d never known existed.
It cut past the distrust, burned to the core of him. A distant part of his brain was snidely informing him it had just been too long since he’d fucked. Another part of him, a part he didn’t recognize, a part as unfamiliar as the dark lust tempting him, urged him to take, to relish, to push into the shadowed realms of lust with this woman. The ones he’d always avoided before. The ones he’d never even been tempted to know with Sienna.
The thought of Sienna. The thought of where he was going with Hannah, of the hunger she unleashed that he couldn’t control, was like throwing ice on fire.
He jerked back from the kiss, his breathing harsh, heavy, his vision almost blurry as he stared back at her. If he thought his vision was blurred, then her face had passed that point.
Confusion and hunger marked her expression as she stared back at him, her lips parted and damp, that full lower lip swollen more, reddened, tempting him to sip from it again. Bringing to mind images so fucking carnal he was about to come in his jeans.