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When she returned, toting two bottles of water, he had cooled his jets and thought he could function normally again. That was, until he turned and got a look at what she'd changed into.
More comfortable my ass.
The outfit might be more comfortable for her, sure, but it made him extremely uncomfortable. Although she wore loose but short jogging shorts, her black tank top could've passed for a second skin. It molded to every curve and dip, showing him more than he'd ever seen of her before.
After she handed him one of the water bottles, he twisted off the cap and guzzled, hoping to rehydrate his mouth, which had gone bone dry.
Too much flesh available for the touching.
Couldn't think properly.
He took another drink, gulping as his eyes scanned the toned, creamy expanse of her disproportionately long legs. The only thing to top off such perfection would be if he could tear out the ponytail holder she'd put in her hair when she'd gone to change.
She stepped toward him, and he once again stopped breathing. The closer she came, the tighter his jeans fit.
But a beep he'd been hearing since they'd entered the house halted her. She glanced behind her and switched directions. "Do you mind if I check my phone messages before we start?"
Raith sighed as if the delay irritated him, when in truth he welcomed a second to collect his scattered wits. He leaned against a wall and crossed his arms over his chest. DeVane pushed play, and the list of messages began.
Five in all, they began with some guy named Kit. "Hey, Will," he called through the speaker. "It's Kit. Tina's out of town with the kids. So... I need some food. What've you got to eat over there?"
Raith frowned, not caring for the jab of jealousy prodding his belly over hearing the man's voice. "Who's Tina?" he asked, when what he really wanted to know was who this Kit guy was and how much of Willow he had seen and tasted.
But the damn woman had to be difficult, because she answered, "She's Kit's wife."
He rolled his eyes. Well, who the hell was Kit?
"Will, honey," the next message started, and thank God, this one owned a woman's voice. "This is your mother. I was just calling to remind you your father's birthday slash retirement party is next month. I need to get invitations out soon, and I'd like your help. Call me."
Raith crinkled his eyebrows. "The judge is retiring?"
Willow sent him an annoyed scowl, obviously not caring for the fact he openly listened to her messages. He lifted a challenging brow. Well, why was she playing them in front of him if she didn't want him to hear?
She sighed and gave in. "He's not going to announce it for another f
ew weeks, so don't go spreading that around. Okay?"
Raith nodded, amazed he actually knew the inside scoop on something political for once in his life.
The next caller—some asshole named Scott—left a message, confirming lunch reservations with Willow the next day. Raith's gut burned, and the indigestion only doubled, for the next voice came from Cole— whoever the hell he was—canceling his date with her on Friday.
Wondering what kind of moron would ditch out on her, Raith's gaze slid DeVane's way. But she didn't seem distraught over the cancellation. She merely shrugged, pushed delete, and moved to the next recording.
Three messages from three guys and one of them even married. Raith decided the gossip he'd heard about DeVane was probably true. She went through men like toilet paper, which drove him crazy because it still didn't mean he would have a chance with her himself.
"Willow, damn it!" The first guy—Kit—called from the machine. "I'm starving. Where are you?"
As Willow pushed delete, the phone rang. Raith sighed; she speared him with a look, telling him to hold his horses.
"Oh, hey, Mom," she said after answering. "Yes, I got your message. But I just walked in the door, so—what's that... oh, okay... uh huh... Sure, I can manage." She opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a pen and pad of paper.
When she began jotting down notes, Raith threw his hands in the air and turned away. To keep himself occupied, he wandered through the front room, reexamining all the knickknacks. When he got to one—a small bronze figurine of a man with a little girl on his lap—he lifted it to study the amazing detail. His host was close enough, however, that she snapped it out of his hand and gave him a dirty look before setting the statuette back where it belonged, all while answering her mother's questions without missing a beat.
Raith shoved his hands in his pockets. He glanced around for something else to absorb his time, until he heard a noise from the rear of DeVane's house. It sounded like someone had just come in the back door.
He glanced toward her, but she didn't act as if she had heard anything. Suspicious, Raith decided to check things out. He crept down a short hall and came to a doorway that led into a bright kitchen. Pausing, he watched some guy lean over the opened fridge and fish around inside.
The guest whistled as he browsed. When he straightened, he held a leftover food container tucked under his arm. Raith scowled as the new arrival shut the door and turned. The man jerked to a halt when their gazes met.
