Jarrett was solid muscle, all grace and strength. It showed in the way his powerful biceps flexed as he talked with Rose, but more than that, the man gave her cook his undivided attention. When he centered that emerald-green gaze at you, a woman couldn’t help but melt. Do anything he asked. And if the anything involved getting naked, even better.
Down, girl.
So what if she hadn’t had sex in more than two years?
It didn’t mean she was going to entertain thoughts of getting cozy with her ex, no matter how much her body said Go for it.
She had a compound to run, a daughter to adopt and someone trying to hustle her out of her compound. At least she could rely upon her staff’s discretion.
“Rose and I have been having a delightful little chat. She told me last week someone set fire to your best truck,” Jarrett said softly in English.
So much for discretion.
“It was an accident, I’m certain.” Lacey picked up a bright orange carrot piece and chewed it. “Someone probably tossed a lit cigarette into the cab, which I was foolish enough to leave open. It was extinguished in minutes.”
“Rose also told me that the women have been spooked by things left hanging from the gate. This is not the first dead chicken.”
Jarrett’s even gaze met hers. She shrugged, hiding her thoughts. The man could smell anxiety from miles away.
“She’s only upset because it was the waste of a good chicken for dinner.”
He did not smile at her little joke. She walked over to the counter to peer out the window. Fleur was outside, playing jump rope with the two other little girls who had accompanied her into the compound. Their mothers worked at the mango factory.
Lacey turned, studying her ex. Her gaze fell to the curve of his spine against the tight white T-shirt, the muscles on his back, down to the pistol tucked into the leather holster.
Jarrett was walking, talking security. He wouldn’t have fallen asleep at the gate. He’d have tracked down the trespasser and squeezed out the information about who wanted to scare her.
He rose off the chair, all six feet, three inches of muscled male. Her heart pounded faster.
“I think I’ll have a look around your house before I start on whatever manual labor you have assigned to me.”
For a big man, he had a quiet, graceful stride. She supposed it came from the nature of his work. And he was very security conscious. Lacey watched him check all the downstairs windows. Funny, she’d always felt safe when he was home.
When being the operative word.
But before he’d left for a mission, Jarrett had always ensured that the house was tight and secure, the alarm system working and emergency contacts within easy reach.
Jarrett went to the front door and ran a hand over the edge then jiggled the lock.
He turned, dusting off his hands.
“One well-placed kick could knock down this door.”
“We’ve never had anyone try. Usually they’re more polite and open the door.” She tried to hide the worry he’d put into words. When she’d been alone with Rose, she never worried about sleeping here. Now that she had Fleur, she constantly worried.
“Lacey, I don’t like it,” Jarrett began.
She held up a finger as her cell phone rang. Lacey’s heart sank as she answered and heard the news. Frightened by the spreading violence in the city, one of her best donors was packing his bags and heading back to France.
More and more wealthy donors were pulling out. Her chest constricted. She had to ship out jam and make good on her new contract or she’d lose all her profits.
She crooked a finger at Jarrett. “Come on. I have work for you.”
They walked outside, down the dirt path that led to a large, wood-frame shed where she packed the marmalade. Lacey fished a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.
He picked up a jar of jam with the labels she’d made on her computer. Lacey took it from his hands.
“This one’s crooked. I’ll save it for the house.”
“You always
Down, girl.
So what if she hadn’t had sex in more than two years?
It didn’t mean she was going to entertain thoughts of getting cozy with her ex, no matter how much her body said Go for it.
She had a compound to run, a daughter to adopt and someone trying to hustle her out of her compound. At least she could rely upon her staff’s discretion.
“Rose and I have been having a delightful little chat. She told me last week someone set fire to your best truck,” Jarrett said softly in English.
So much for discretion.
“It was an accident, I’m certain.” Lacey picked up a bright orange carrot piece and chewed it. “Someone probably tossed a lit cigarette into the cab, which I was foolish enough to leave open. It was extinguished in minutes.”
“Rose also told me that the women have been spooked by things left hanging from the gate. This is not the first dead chicken.”
Jarrett’s even gaze met hers. She shrugged, hiding her thoughts. The man could smell anxiety from miles away.
“She’s only upset because it was the waste of a good chicken for dinner.”
He did not smile at her little joke. She walked over to the counter to peer out the window. Fleur was outside, playing jump rope with the two other little girls who had accompanied her into the compound. Their mothers worked at the mango factory.
Lacey turned, studying her ex. Her gaze fell to the curve of his spine against the tight white T-shirt, the muscles on his back, down to the pistol tucked into the leather holster.
Jarrett was walking, talking security. He wouldn’t have fallen asleep at the gate. He’d have tracked down the trespasser and squeezed out the information about who wanted to scare her.
He rose off the chair, all six feet, three inches of muscled male. Her heart pounded faster.
“I think I’ll have a look around your house before I start on whatever manual labor you have assigned to me.”
For a big man, he had a quiet, graceful stride. She supposed it came from the nature of his work. And he was very security conscious. Lacey watched him check all the downstairs windows. Funny, she’d always felt safe when he was home.
When being the operative word.
But before he’d left for a mission, Jarrett had always ensured that the house was tight and secure, the alarm system working and emergency contacts within easy reach.
Jarrett went to the front door and ran a hand over the edge then jiggled the lock.
He turned, dusting off his hands.
“One well-placed kick could knock down this door.”
“We’ve never had anyone try. Usually they’re more polite and open the door.” She tried to hide the worry he’d put into words. When she’d been alone with Rose, she never worried about sleeping here. Now that she had Fleur, she constantly worried.
“Lacey, I don’t like it,” Jarrett began.
She held up a finger as her cell phone rang. Lacey’s heart sank as she answered and heard the news. Frightened by the spreading violence in the city, one of her best donors was packing his bags and heading back to France.
More and more wealthy donors were pulling out. Her chest constricted. She had to ship out jam and make good on her new contract or she’d lose all her profits.
She crooked a finger at Jarrett. “Come on. I have work for you.”
They walked outside, down the dirt path that led to a large, wood-frame shed where she packed the marmalade. Lacey fished a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.
He picked up a jar of jam with the labels she’d made on her computer. Lacey took it from his hands.
“This one’s crooked. I’ll save it for the house.”
“You always
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