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The total absorption was too much for her, and she whispered, "There's n-noth--nothing, is there? N-nothing special that needs doing today."
Jake's grasp on her face became punishing. He was lowering his head to hers when the outside door opened and Deputy Tyler Jones strode into the office.
Jake knew who had walked in even with his back toward the door. His large body blocked Becky entirely. His desire to kiss her remained, but his hand lifted from her face as he fought to restrain the temptation to continue touching her in front of his deputy.
Jake's scowl became menacing when he was denied the kiss Becky knew had been coming. Liquid heat poured through her body from the abbreviated encounter, and from the struggle for control she could see on his face.
When he finally spoke, his voice was a soft growl and meant for her ears only. "You work for me. Only me. There's always something that you need to be doing for me. Today it's the cooking and cleaning."
"Everyday it's the cooking and cleaning. That's no reason--"
"That's all the reason you need to be concerned with. You don't need to be running off all over creation with God knows who, when your little butt needs to be at my house. That's what I pay you for."
Becky watched the harsh lines of his face tighten in displeasure. Could this be a result of her conversation with Kyle? What else could it be? Becky knew the care she took of the sheriff and that she kept his home impeccably clean. And what was more, she knew that he knew it, too. A heady feeling came over her when she realized that this could be in fact, a sign of jealousy.
Jake watched the half-girl, half-woman standing before him. Shit! What the hell had come over him? Just because some stupid kid had shown a slight interest in her, he had gone berserk. Horror slowly spread through him as he realized he had almost grabbed her and kissed her and God only knew what else. And he would have too, if they hadn't been interrupted. Appalled shock ran down his spine when he thought about how close he had come to losing it with her.
With a sharp warning to himself to be careful, he walked over to the door and held it open for her. When she started through the threshold, his hand shot out and gripped the soft flesh of her upper arm. "I want stew for supper." He paused as his thumb unconsciously rubbed the underside of her arm. "Is that going to be a problem?"
Becky stilled, her whole being centered on the warm hand wrapped around her arm, his touch on her flesh making a live current rush between them. She sucked in a whispery breath. "N-no." Her eyes lifted to the dark velvet of his, staring down at her. "What--whatever y-you want."
Jake was inundated as a vortex of feelings almost incapacitated him. Lust, jealousy, and an upsetting arrow of tenderness gripped him. As he released her arm and she ran off down the street, he hung his head.
The situation was untenable. It absolutely couldn't go on.
****
Two hours later, Becky hurried back to the sheriff's house, the sugar clutched in her hands.
She reached the front door of his house and stepped into the darkened interior. The front door slammed shut behind her. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, she caught her breath at the sight in front of her.
She wasn't expecting him home this early. He never came home this early.
The sheriff leaned against the table, watching her. Her heartbeat
accelerated from the impact of his presence. "Where have you been?" His voice was low and deep, laced with a tension she was only beginning to understand. She tried to control her sudden nervousness. It was always like this when he was nearby. Nobody she had ever met affected her the way he did. Her blood warmed as quivers raced through her system.
"We ran out of s-sugar." She was breathless from the quick trip to the store, and from the unexpected sight of him.
"We?" he asked. His voice was smooth, like honey running through her.
She ignored the question, slid her eyes away from his and moved away from the door to the stove.
Becky watched the sheriff out of the corner of one eye as she leveled off a cup of sugar. She tried to concentrate on the icing for the cake she had baked for him, but she couldn't with all his attention focused on her.
"You can't keep working here. It's not safe for you anymore." His words were flat, spoken as if they pained him.
"Not safe?" Her eyes were glued to him, but there was no alarm for her safety in her voice.
"You're seventeen now, Becky." Irritation laced his words. His arms crossed in front of his chest. He leaned back against the table, one booted foot across the other. "You're not a young girl anymore. You can't keep coming here, being alone with me."
"You won't--you won't hurt me. You're the sheriff." Distress slid through her. She had to keep coming here. It was the only way she could see him every day. The only way she had of taking care of him, being with him. Her hands rubbed down her apron in turbulence. The sliding movement pulled her apron and dress down. The material of her bodice tightened next to the soft curves of her breasts. Her breathing was palpable.
"I didn't say I would hurt you, sweetheart."
Lightning speared through Becky. Sweetheart! He'd never called her anything but Becky, or sometimes Becky-girl, and the sound of his deep, gruff voice using the endearment was like a shot of adrenaline to her head. He was so handsome, so male, everything she had ever wanted.
"I would never hurt you. But things can't go on like this forever. You're all grown up now, and I'm a single, twenty-eight year old lawman. It doesn't look right, you coming here every day. We would have to be married for this to look right."
