trudged up the stairs. Laurel must have been watching for him because she opened the door as soon as he reached the top tread. Their eyes met; his were fatalistic, while hers were apprehensive. Jack knew he was on the right track with the case. He just hoped she’d trust him enough to help her.
* * *
L aurel took one glance at the folder in Jack’s hand that she just knew was full of incriminating evidence and felt her stomach drop through her shoes. He was too good a cop not to dig into the background of anyone he deemed suspicious. She’d seen the way he’d looked at Uncle Max and known it was only a matter of time. And speak of the devil.
“Who is it, m’dear?” Max asked from behind her. She stepped aside and a quick frown marred her uncle’s brow before he smoothed it out and remarked with forced gaiety, “Sheriff, so good of you to come a calling on a chilly night such as this. Laurel, child, hurry and let the poor man in.”
Poor man , as if he were a decrepit old guy. Laurel had never seen anyone less frail than the six-four giant ducking his head to enter her home.
“She was just telling me how grateful she is to be under your care… uh, I mean employment,” Max said, and slid a sly glance her way.
The crafty old bugger. Trying to weave a sense of responsibility for her onto Jack’s shoulders. And was that a glint of humor she saw in Jack’s eye? He turned away to close the door before she had a chance to be sure.
“Sheriff, you remember my Uncle Max, I’m sure.” She resigned herself to the coming confrontation. Maybe he’d just dropped in for a visit and the papers had nothing to do with them. Yeah, and pigs fly.
Jack took his own sweet time to unbutton his jacket and peel it off those mountainous shoulders—she grinned at the residual clumps of snow dampening his collar. He hung it beside her uncle’s on the coat rack and brushed a casual hand down his chest to straighten his shirt, tucking the cotton material into his pants where it had worked loose. Her knees quivered in reaction. She licked her lips and bit the inside of her mouth—hard.
“Your niece was just reminding me how cold the snow is, sir.” Jack slid a knowing look in her direction before refocusing on the older man. “I’m actually here on business. I have a couple of questions I was hoping you might be able to help me with.”
Laurel forced herself to relax, but it was darn hard to keep her gaze off that tan folder.
“We can try, sheriff.” Max was all cloying sweetness. Laurel shot daggers in his direction. Did he seriously think Jack couldn’t see through his subterfuge?
“I just made a fresh pot of tea and some snacks. Let’s go into the den where we can be comfortable, shall we?” As if she could ever get comfortable with the law breathing down their necks. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
Max led the way, with Laurel sandwiched between the two men. Every. Single. Nerve knew Jack followed two steps behind her. The natural sway of her hips suddenly felt like an invitation to have his fingers latch on and pull her back so that she could nestle against his hard… chest. His lips would find her neck and his hands would cover her breasts. They would make love right there, on the floor in front of the fire. Minus Max, of course. Everything within her yearned for things to be different. For her to be a normal woman, free to lo… care for a man like Jack. But she was who she was, and he….
He was the enemy.
Max resumed his seat in the armchair, forcing Laurel to kneel in her previous spot on the floor. She was unwilling to sit next to Jack on the sofa. Not that it mattered; his legs were so long that his knees were still uncomfortably close. She fancied that she could feel the heat of his big body warming her back and his breath tickling her ear. A flush rose up her neck and heated her cheeks. She tried to unobtrusively move away but overbalanced and almost fell into his lap, saving herself at the
* * *
L aurel took one glance at the folder in Jack’s hand that she just knew was full of incriminating evidence and felt her stomach drop through her shoes. He was too good a cop not to dig into the background of anyone he deemed suspicious. She’d seen the way he’d looked at Uncle Max and known it was only a matter of time. And speak of the devil.
“Who is it, m’dear?” Max asked from behind her. She stepped aside and a quick frown marred her uncle’s brow before he smoothed it out and remarked with forced gaiety, “Sheriff, so good of you to come a calling on a chilly night such as this. Laurel, child, hurry and let the poor man in.”
Poor man , as if he were a decrepit old guy. Laurel had never seen anyone less frail than the six-four giant ducking his head to enter her home.
“She was just telling me how grateful she is to be under your care… uh, I mean employment,” Max said, and slid a sly glance her way.
The crafty old bugger. Trying to weave a sense of responsibility for her onto Jack’s shoulders. And was that a glint of humor she saw in Jack’s eye? He turned away to close the door before she had a chance to be sure.
“Sheriff, you remember my Uncle Max, I’m sure.” She resigned herself to the coming confrontation. Maybe he’d just dropped in for a visit and the papers had nothing to do with them. Yeah, and pigs fly.
Jack took his own sweet time to unbutton his jacket and peel it off those mountainous shoulders—she grinned at the residual clumps of snow dampening his collar. He hung it beside her uncle’s on the coat rack and brushed a casual hand down his chest to straighten his shirt, tucking the cotton material into his pants where it had worked loose. Her knees quivered in reaction. She licked her lips and bit the inside of her mouth—hard.
“Your niece was just reminding me how cold the snow is, sir.” Jack slid a knowing look in her direction before refocusing on the older man. “I’m actually here on business. I have a couple of questions I was hoping you might be able to help me with.”
Laurel forced herself to relax, but it was darn hard to keep her gaze off that tan folder.
“We can try, sheriff.” Max was all cloying sweetness. Laurel shot daggers in his direction. Did he seriously think Jack couldn’t see through his subterfuge?
“I just made a fresh pot of tea and some snacks. Let’s go into the den where we can be comfortable, shall we?” As if she could ever get comfortable with the law breathing down their necks. This was a disaster waiting to happen.
Max led the way, with Laurel sandwiched between the two men. Every. Single. Nerve knew Jack followed two steps behind her. The natural sway of her hips suddenly felt like an invitation to have his fingers latch on and pull her back so that she could nestle against his hard… chest. His lips would find her neck and his hands would cover her breasts. They would make love right there, on the floor in front of the fire. Minus Max, of course. Everything within her yearned for things to be different. For her to be a normal woman, free to lo… care for a man like Jack. But she was who she was, and he….
He was the enemy.
Max resumed his seat in the armchair, forcing Laurel to kneel in her previous spot on the floor. She was unwilling to sit next to Jack on the sofa. Not that it mattered; his legs were so long that his knees were still uncomfortably close. She fancied that she could feel the heat of his big body warming her back and his breath tickling her ear. A flush rose up her neck and heated her cheeks. She tried to unobtrusively move away but overbalanced and almost fell into his lap, saving herself at the
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