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Neither did he. The thought had him pulling her tighter against him. Standing here in the middle of this bedroom carnage wasn’t helping his or her nerves, but before he could suggest waiting for the Governor downstairs, her gaze lifted to meet his and all sanity slid away. It didn’t matter that the Barons had been burglarized or that Siobhan’s room was targeted. Beautiful, pink, plump lips called to him. Leaning in, he kissed her the way he’d wanted to all night.
“Siobhan?” The Governor’s voice carried up the stairs, followed by multiple sets of footsteps.
He knew he should back away, stop, catch his breath, but he needed just one more second. And then a lifetime.
“What the hell?” the Governor’s voice boomed.
Who separated first, him or her, he wasn’t sure, but he took another step in retreat, loosening his hold of Siobhan, but not fully letting go.
The next thing he knew, before he or Siobhan could say a word, Chase’s voice bellowed through the small room. “Son of a…”
A hard grip pulled him into a spin about two seconds before a very firm, angry fist slammed into his jaw.
“Chase!” The single name ripped from her throat louder than the scream at the sight of her room. “What the hell are you doing?”
Fists clenched at his side, Chase’s gaze darted to the unmade bed and back to Jack. “You have one helluva a nerve coming into our home—”
“Stop,” the Governor ordered. “Have you taken a good look at the room?”
“It’s a mess.” Chase continued to glare at Jack.
“Chase.” Grams’ hand settled gently on her grandson’s arm. “Your sister is upset that someone has violated her room.”
“From where I stand, more than her room has been violated.” Chase seemed to be daring Jack to give him a reason for taking another swing.
To her surprise, Jack simply stood there, almost bracing himself for the next punch.
“Chase,” the Governor repeated, “call the police. Obviously, we’ve been burglarized.”
Like a glass of cold water to the face, the Governor’s words had Chase looking around the room more slowly, and then his eyes settled on Siobhan, still in the beautiful but snug evening gown. Sucking in a deep breath and slowly blowing it out, he nodded. “I’ll call the police.” Pausing in the doorway, he waved a finger at Jack. “I may have overreacted, but I’m not wrong. We need to talk.”
Jack bobbed his chin.
“If there’s anything that hasn’t been thrown on the floor,” Grams scanned the mess, “you might want to go ahead, change clothes, and join us downstairs.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Getting out of this sausage stuffing dress sounded great, but she didn’t want to leave Jack’s side. Not knowing what else to do or say, she reached out and grabbed hold of his hand.
The stern expression on his face slipped away. His gaze lowered to meet hers and he managed a weak smile. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
“You owe him an apology.” If there was one thing that James Ernest Baron was good at, it was judging character. He could not have had a successful military and political career without it. “He was consoling and caring for your sister.”
“He was kissing her,” Chase practically spat.
“That too.” His beloved Lila smiled at their grandson.
“She’s our baby sister.”
Lila handed Chase a short glass of bourbon she’d poured for him. “She may be your youngest sister, but there’s nothing baby about her.”
Accepting the glass, Chase sighed. “She’s too young.”
“For what?” Lila asked.
When it came to matters of the heart, James had learned a very long time ago to let his wife take the lead.
“Everything.” Chase took a slow sip of his drink.
Lila shook her head. “She’s a legal adult well past twenty-one.”
