Cold Case Affair by Loreth Anne White

him.
    But Jett didn’t return the look, and she couldn’t read his eyes. Yet his hands had tightened on the wheel, and his neck was tense. She studied the lines of his rugged profile, his thick dark hair, his strong arms. And she loved him all over again. Age had been good to him. She wondered what might have been if she hadn’t left, if they’d raised the boy she gave away for adoption. Guilt and confusion twisted inside Muirinn like a knife.
    She was suddenly overwhelmed by a desperate desire to open up, spill everything about the fact she’d had a son— their son —that she’d given him away. But it was all too much tohandle right now. A part of Muirinn even wondered if was better that Jett didn’t know.
    He had his own family now, and she didn’t want to tamper with that.
    The other part of her was afraid of how much he might truly hate her if she told him all these years later.
    “Yes,” she whispered, remorse thickening her voice. “I wanted a son, too.”
    He turned into her driveway, came to a stop and sat silent for a several beats, staring out the windshield. Then his gaze flashed to her, fierce suddenly. “Look, I can’t let you stay here alone, Muirinn. Not after what happened today. You need to pack a bag and stay at my place until…until we’ve figured this out.”
    Fear, anxiety, attraction erupted in a dangerous cocktail inside Muirinn. She could not be forced into such close proximity to this married man, alone with him in his house, his wife away. “I…I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jett.” Her voice caught, turning husky as his eyes bored hotly into hers, the intense stare of a hunter. Anticipation rustled through Muirinn like a wild and lethal thing.
    She swallowed. “I just can’t do it. I…cannot be with you, not in your house…I still have…”
    “Still have what, Muirinn?” His voice was low, gravelly, his gaze drifting down to her lips.
    “You know that I still have feelings for you, Jett,” she whispered.
    His eyes darkened, and lust etched into his face. Heat arrowed through her body, her world swirling to a narrow focus, logic fleeing.
    Jett raised his hand to touch her face. He wanted her. To feel her hair, her skin, her body wrapped around his. But he couldn’tgo down this road again. Not yet, not before both of them had confessed the secrets between them. He exhaled slowly, lowering his hand.
    Her body sagged visibly at his rejection, and her eyes glistened sharply with hurt. The pulse in her neck was racing, the emotion in her face so raw. “Muirinn, I—”
    He just couldn’t stop what came next. Cupping her jaw, Jett bent down, sliding his hand under her hair and he lowered his mouth to hers. His heart pounded as his lips met hers. There was no rational thought at all, as he felt her mouth open under his.
    A small sound came from her throat as his tongue entered her mouth. She kissed him back, hard, desperate. And he felt the wetness of tears against his skin.
    She hooked her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, her tongue tangling with his as she melted into him. Jett felt her pregnant body press against his, and something inside him cracked. His body burned as he kissed her harder, deeper. And they moved faster—urgent, hungry, angry, digging down deep for something neither of them seemed to be able to reach in the other.
    Jett pulled back suddenly, rocked, breathing hard.
    Muirinn stared at him in wide-eyed shock, chest rising and falling fast, cheeks flushed, panic flickering in her features.
    Her hand covered her mouth, horror dawning in her eyes at the reality of what had just happened.
    He didn’t say a word, didn’t move. Couldn’t.
    “Jett…” Tears streamed fresh down her face. She turned suddenly, flung open the door, slammed it shut, and stumbled up the stairs to her house.

Chapter 9
    M uirinn’s hands were shaking too hard to get the key into the lock.
    Jett’s truck door banged behind her. She heard his footsteps crunching on