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“Come on in.” Claire stepped back to let Jake inside. The dog followed behind, his ears perked up into perfect triangles. “Et tu, Brute?”
Onion’s tongue lolled out of his mouth. Without even stopping to be petted, he followed the pizza scent into the house.
Jake, already in the kitchen, popped open two bottles and handed her one. The dark, porter-style beer slid down her parched throat like bitter honey. Heaven. Her body unwound all the way to her toes. She couldn’t have been more relaxed if she was neck-deep in a vanilla bubble bath, a glass of Malbec wine balanced on the tub’s edge and Chef Anthony Bourdain’s latest book in her hands.
They ate in companionable silence, standing around the kitchen island. The setting sun filtered in through the window and acted as their candlelight. Onion wandered from one to the other, occasionally successful at begging a piece of pepperoni.
“So…” Claire watched the string of cheese connecting a pizza slice to Jake’s delectable mouth. “Is this how your days normally go?”
He laughed and swiped at the wayward cheese. He swirled it around his finger and deposited it in his mouth. Claire’s knees turned to jelly.
“No. Normally, I spend most of my time in the office working on computer investigations for businesses dealing with corporate spies. Every once in a while I’ll spend the afternoon tailing a cheating spouse, but that’s rare.”
“Really? I kind of pictured you always up in someone’s personal space.”
“Nah, I prefer to let my brain do the work.” He paused, looking Claire up and down. “But when it comes to play, I’m all about being in someone’s…personal space.”
Heat raced up from her toes. There was no missing the meaning behind that. The dinner’s easygoing vibe dissolved into heated anticipation. Would it really be so bad to touch him? They were comrades in arms facing off against the Voice of Doom.
And man, it would be amazing to be wrapped up in his arms.
Claire licked an errant bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth. “So why are you here on a murder investigation?”
The leer slid off his face, blank affability taking its place. “It’s the old story of money and power. Kendall’s dad has plenty of both and uses them to ensure things turn out the way he wants. Like having me on this case. His company is our biggest client. We weren’t going to turn him away when he asked for a favor.” Jake polished off his second piece of pizza and reached for a third. “Now it’s my turn. How’d you end up at Harvest?”
“Long story.”
“I’ll be here all night.”
The idea made her insides whirl, picturing his tan legs twisted in her white silk sheets, the bed rocking beneath them. One bold move and she could make it happen. Contemplating, she nibbled on her crust then dipped one end in the marinara. “I grew up wanting to be a chef. As a kid, I had the hat, the white jacket, everything. But I cannot cook to save my life. I went to business school instead. After graduation, I managed a restaurant in Denver.”
“How’d you end up back in Dry Creek?” He flicked a pepperoni slice to Onion. The dog snapped it out of midair.
Her stomach lurched at the thought of Brett. Handsome. Funny. Smart. Scumbag. They’d been together three years, lived together for two. She’d made him the center of her world, turned down job offers at restaurants in New York to stay close to him.
She’d found out how misplaced her trust in the shit had been when she’d discovered him in bed with another woman. She’d kicked him to the curb. In retaliation, he’d emptied their joint bank account and gotten engaged. The asshole probably used her last paycheck for the engagement ring. Pissed off all over again at the unfairness of fate, she took in a cleansing breath.
“Old story. Girl meets boy. Girl falls in love. Boy sleeps with another girl.” She shrugged as if it didn’t still hurt. “I came home, opened Harvest and here I am.”
Jake had inched closer to her while she talked. Her hip touched his thigh. His body heat seeped in, scattering her thoughts.
“What’s the idiot’s name?”
“Brett Green, why?”
“That way I know who to slug if I ever meet him.”
She laughed. Pounding Brett was a fantasy she nurtured herself. Jake reached for a napkin, his elbow grazing the side of her breast.
“How about you?” Her voice squeaked. Hoping to distract herself from his hard body, she swept the pizza crust crumbs scattered across the island into a small pile.
“No, I haven’t fallen in love with a boy recently.” He chuckled. “So, do killers tend to stalk you on a regular basis?”
> She shrugged. “I’m just a boring restaurant owner. Half the time I think Harvest owns me, I’m there so much. No excitement in my life except when a customer’s car gets towed.”
“Too bad. You seem like a woman who enjoys stimulation.”
Right now, she had too much stimulation, judging by the dampness between her legs. Desperate to put something in her mouth before she said something stupid, Claire reached for another slice of pizza but hesitated. Her hand hovered over the only piece left.
