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He ignored the bulge still straining against his zipper and mounted the steps of her porch.
Definitely a judge's daughter, he decided. Raith could never afford a snazzy place like this, even before his divorce drained him of every penny he made. The front door would probably cost him a month's rent without all that stained glass embedded into the oak. Damn, even the knocker could feed him for a week.
He tried to lift the doorknocker before he realized it was only for looks and didn't even lift. Snorting, he pressed t
he bell and stepped backward, shoving his hands into his pockets. Not even realizing how he jingled his keys in a nervous habit, he idly wondered what he would look like right now if he were here to take her on a date instead of just training her. He had to admit, his outfit wouldn't differ much from his current state of dress. Hell, he would probably be wearing the same pair of dark jeans and the same damn cologne.
He winced. Yeah, he had showered and even put on the stupid fragrance before heading out the door. But there was no way he wanted to start stinking once they got up close and sweaty when he showed her a few tactical moves.
Then again, knowing him, he would probably lose his head and buy her flowers if he were ever to take her out. Because if he were standing here for a date, then he would have a lot better shot at actually scoring with her before the night was over.
His already throbbing penis pulsed excitedly at the mere idea.
"Cut it out," he muttered to himself and rang the bell again.
Would the woman let him in already? He was driving himself crazy out here, letting his thoughts get the better of him.
Five minutes later, he realized he had been stood up. Feeling duped and stupid, he spun on his heel and strode off the porch. He glared back one last time at the darkened windows as he stormed toward his truck, swearing to himself he would turn right back around, break into her house, and strangle her if he saw even a hint of her smirking expression peeking out a bended blind.
Raith vibrated with fury as he unlocked his truck. Already well aware he couldn't get Willow DeVane for himself, he wondered why she felt the need to rub it in by purposely making him look the fool and force him to come to her house like some kind of trained lap dog, eager for a mere glimpse of her?
Swearing retribution, he yanked open his truck door and paused one last time to stare at her house.
He really wanted to see her too, damn it. Pathetic as that sounded, he liked being around her. He liked annoying her and watching her big brown eyes go hot and irritated. He liked guessing what kind of challenge she might issue him next. He liked the way his blood surged every time she drew near. God, he even liked the way she made his body grow instantly heavy and tense with desire, wanting things it could never have. But no, she was going to deny him even that tonight.
And she was going to pay for it, big time.
Just as he pulled his door shut and shoved his key back into the ignition, dreaming up all manner of nasty paybacks, a silver BMW zipped into the drive behind him, blocking his exit. Raith growled, even more upset she had arrived after all.
"Why me?" he said aloud before once again clambering out of the truck and glaring at her with a feral scowl as she burst from her car.
"Sorry." She sent him a wince, genuine apology thick in her voice. "I got tied up with a client."
He stood, stiff and erect, shoulders unyielding as she paused to lean back into the BMW and retrieve her briefcase. He held his breath when her long skirt pulled taut across her backside. Then she shimmied back out, and he gritted his teeth, a muscle in his cheek bulging dangerously.
Taking in his rigid stance, she pinched her eyebrows together. "I tried to hurry," she offered, sounding less apologetic this time and more defensive. "I even called the sheriff's department, but you were already gone, and no one would give me a personal number to reach you."
He couldn't seem to unclench his teeth as he muttered, "Fine, whatever. Let's just get this over with."
Willow scowled at his unforgiving attitude and whirled away from him to march toward the house.
Raith shook his head, realizing once again how naïve she was to put her back to an upset man. That would be lesson number one, he decided, and stormed after her.
The interior of DeVane's place was just as fancy as the exterior. With some kind of motion sensor in the foyer, the lights blinked on as soon as she stepped over the threshold. Raith followed.
"Give me a minute," she said as she sashayed across the room. "I want to change into something more comfortable."
Raith skidded to a stop. More comfortable? He didn't even want to let his mind guess what that meant.
DeVane kicked off her shoes and lifted both arms to pull a few hairpins from the auburn heap on top of her head. With her arms up, the tiny buttons keeping her starched, pale blue blouse together threatened to pop off. Holding his breath in the vain hope they did just that, Raith was already a little lightheaded by the time her hair came free of its confining pins. Then she shook it free. He nearly passed out as all those luscious locks bounced over her shoulders and down her back.
Deciding the woman had to be the sex goddess supreme, he could only nod to let her know he'd heard her when she glanced questioningly at him.
"I'll be right back then. Make yourself at home."
He waited until she'd vanished through a door before letting out a snort. "Not likely." He'd never felt so out of place in his entire life. Welcome to lifestyles of the rich and famous, Malloy. Every bronze knick-knack and crystal-framed portrait of upstanding judges and top-notch politicians only emphasized how much he didn't belong.
At least the place looked lived in. It was cleaner than his own home but not spotless. He discovered dust on one miniature statue of a man fishing with his son and felt a little more confident. She'd even left her high heels lying forgotten in the middle of the floor.
