round him up, rope him in and drag him back to the beach house, where she planned to stand over him all day. Likely with a whip.
“I, um, wanted to let you know I’m leaving now. I’ll be gone until evening.”
Surprise had him sitting up and blinking. Yes, it was Jane standing nearby, he hadn’t been wrong about that, but she wasn’t wearing her usual resolute expression. She looked, actually, a little unsure of herself.
Curse him for finding it kind of almost adorable.
And definitely curious.
He stared at her, taking in her outfit. It was a short-sleeved, stiff khaki shirtdress that sported a collection of pockets, grommets and zippers. “What’s on your schedule for the day? Lion-taming?”
She laughed a little, and one foot moved to twine with the other, causing his gaze to lower. Huh. The safari suit was paired with perhaps the silliest shoes he’d ever seen. Cork wedges were topped by khaki fabric printed with pink flowers. A paler pink ribbon was threaded through loops in the material and tied in a big bow at the top of her foot. They were…whimsical. A little weird. Very girlie. The complete opposite end of the spectrum from the tailored dress.
Business on top, and oh, baby on the bottom.
It made Griffin wonder how closely that described Jane herself. Scratch the professional surface, and what feminine fire might he find beneath? But he wasn’t interested in digging for that, he reminded himself as he slouched lower in his seat, any more than he was interested in excavating his own emotions. What would he do with that fire anyway? As much as he hated to admit it, his sex drive had driven off, gone AWOL on him, sometime, somewhere, between Afghanistan and California.
Sure, he’d been a little fixated on Jane’s mouth, and they’d shared that single sizzling kiss, as well as that almost torrid moment of awareness when Tess had arrived, but…but, fine, he could admit it to himself. He hadn’t had a real, full-fledged, like-a-flagpole erection since before Randolph had come back from patrol drenched in Erica’s blood.
As if sensing his disturbed thoughts, Jane made a nervous movement, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He frowned. She’d done something to take the wave out of it. It looked…restrained. Contained, like her tight expression.
“What’s wrong, Jane?” he asked, sitting up again.
“I love my father!” she said, as if he’d accused her differently.
“Huh?”
She ran her palms along her hips and then picked at a nonexistent piece of lint on the starched cotton fabric. “I mean, he called and asked if I could come for a visit. I haven’t seen him in a while, so I think I should go.”
“Okay.” Woo-hoo. A reprieve for ol’ Griff, who had been devising ways to fend her off.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “But don’t forget you’re getting that delivery from Frank today. All the things you need to set up your home office.”
“I can plug a few cords in.” As if he would.
“So that’s your goal for the day?” She regarded him with a disappointed expression, reminding him of Mrs. Melton, eighth-grade English, who’d thought that Griffin could write a better essay than “I Spent My Summer Vacation Eating Popsicles.” He hadn’t expected she’d actually appreciate “How I Almost Killed My Brother in August.”
Jane crossed her arms over her chest. “I really think you could accomplish more. You need to accomplish more.”
That bossy tone again. Back to General Jane. He scowled at her. “I need another cup of coffee,” he said and got up to make that happen.
Once he’d topped it off from the carafe warming in the kitchen, he decided he also needed some sugar. That took him into a back storeroom, where he remembered seeing the dispensers that sat on the tables during operating hours. It smelled good in the small, shelf-filled space, an interesting combination of cinnamon and pepper. He decided to enjoy it along with his freshened beverage. He
“I, um, wanted to let you know I’m leaving now. I’ll be gone until evening.”
Surprise had him sitting up and blinking. Yes, it was Jane standing nearby, he hadn’t been wrong about that, but she wasn’t wearing her usual resolute expression. She looked, actually, a little unsure of herself.
Curse him for finding it kind of almost adorable.
And definitely curious.
He stared at her, taking in her outfit. It was a short-sleeved, stiff khaki shirtdress that sported a collection of pockets, grommets and zippers. “What’s on your schedule for the day? Lion-taming?”
She laughed a little, and one foot moved to twine with the other, causing his gaze to lower. Huh. The safari suit was paired with perhaps the silliest shoes he’d ever seen. Cork wedges were topped by khaki fabric printed with pink flowers. A paler pink ribbon was threaded through loops in the material and tied in a big bow at the top of her foot. They were…whimsical. A little weird. Very girlie. The complete opposite end of the spectrum from the tailored dress.
Business on top, and oh, baby on the bottom.
It made Griffin wonder how closely that described Jane herself. Scratch the professional surface, and what feminine fire might he find beneath? But he wasn’t interested in digging for that, he reminded himself as he slouched lower in his seat, any more than he was interested in excavating his own emotions. What would he do with that fire anyway? As much as he hated to admit it, his sex drive had driven off, gone AWOL on him, sometime, somewhere, between Afghanistan and California.
Sure, he’d been a little fixated on Jane’s mouth, and they’d shared that single sizzling kiss, as well as that almost torrid moment of awareness when Tess had arrived, but…but, fine, he could admit it to himself. He hadn’t had a real, full-fledged, like-a-flagpole erection since before Randolph had come back from patrol drenched in Erica’s blood.
As if sensing his disturbed thoughts, Jane made a nervous movement, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He frowned. She’d done something to take the wave out of it. It looked…restrained. Contained, like her tight expression.
“What’s wrong, Jane?” he asked, sitting up again.
“I love my father!” she said, as if he’d accused her differently.
“Huh?”
She ran her palms along her hips and then picked at a nonexistent piece of lint on the starched cotton fabric. “I mean, he called and asked if I could come for a visit. I haven’t seen him in a while, so I think I should go.”
“Okay.” Woo-hoo. A reprieve for ol’ Griff, who had been devising ways to fend her off.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “But don’t forget you’re getting that delivery from Frank today. All the things you need to set up your home office.”
“I can plug a few cords in.” As if he would.
“So that’s your goal for the day?” She regarded him with a disappointed expression, reminding him of Mrs. Melton, eighth-grade English, who’d thought that Griffin could write a better essay than “I Spent My Summer Vacation Eating Popsicles.” He hadn’t expected she’d actually appreciate “How I Almost Killed My Brother in August.”
Jane crossed her arms over her chest. “I really think you could accomplish more. You need to accomplish more.”
That bossy tone again. Back to General Jane. He scowled at her. “I need another cup of coffee,” he said and got up to make that happen.
Once he’d topped it off from the carafe warming in the kitchen, he decided he also needed some sugar. That took him into a back storeroom, where he remembered seeing the dispensers that sat on the tables during operating hours. It smelled good in the small, shelf-filled space, an interesting combination of cinnamon and pepper. He decided to enjoy it along with his freshened beverage. He
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