Smokin' Seventeen by Janet Evanovich Page B

bathroom.”
    Ranger nodded. “I have photographs and preliminary floor plans. You can take a look at them later.”
    “If you employed a woman you wouldn’t need to bring me in like this.”
    “If I could find a woman with the right qualifications I’d hire her. In the meantime, you’re it.”
    “Have you asked Ella to help with this?”
    “Yes. She thought my client made bad choices on kitchen appliances. And she’d change the carpet color in the master bedroom.”
    The photos were stacked at the end of the table. I finished eating and shuffled through them. I got to the bedroom photos and grimaced. “Ella’s right about the rug in the bedroom.”
    Ranger cleared the plates and spread the blueprint out on the table. He stood behind me, leaning over my shoulder, pointing out security cameras. “Every exterior door is under surveillance, plus there are roof-mounted cameras scanning the yard and driveway. The windows are impact glass but they maintain security only if they’re closed and properly locked. With three teenagers in a house that size it’s likely there will be security breaches. My client would like more interior cameras, but I’m worried I’ll be catching his daughters sneaking down to the kitchen for a midnight snack in their underwear.”
    “That’s very sensitive of you.”
    “Sensitivity doesn’t have much to do with it. It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen if one of those kids thinks their right to privacy has been violated. I don’t want my technicians accused of spying on a thirteen-year-old.”
    “Does the video feed into your monitoring station?”
    “No. It records for a set amount of time and recycles, but a technician could have access to it on a service call. The client can also have select locations available to him for monitoring.”
    I was trying to concentrate on the security system, but I was already a little buzzed from the wine. Ranger was close, and I wanted him even closer. He was warm, and he smelled faintly of something unbelievably appealing.
    “Babe?”
    His face was inches from mine. “Mmmm?”
    “Are you listening?”
    “Yes.” No.
    My relationship with Ranger is well defined. We both acknowledge the desire existing between us. Ranger’s made it clear he’ll take advantage of any opening given. And I’ve struggled to keep my openings closed. My position has more to do with self-preservation than my allegiance to Morelli. Morelli chose to back off on commitment, and I agreed. Maybe some day that will change, but for now we have a comfortable working arrangement. My arrangement with Ranger isn’t nearly so comfortable. It’s frustrating at best and borderline scary at its worst. Ranger lives by his own code of conduct. He’s an honorable guy … just not by normal standards.
    “What did I just say?” he asked. And the corners of his mouth almost smiled.
    I leaned into him a little. “I love the way you smell. It’s sweet and citrusy and clean and very sexy.” My lips accidentally skimmed across his ear when I spoke, and I think I might have sighed a little.
    He lifted me out of my chair, pulled me into him, andkissed me. His lips were soft on my mouth, his hands were firm on my back, his tongue touched mine, and heat swirled through me and went straight to my doodah.
    Ranger is good at just about everything, but Ranger is outstanding at making love. He knows when to go slow, when to be gentle, when to stop being gentle, and best of all … Ranger instinctively knows when he’s on target.
    His hands slid under my shirt and moved to my breasts. He was hard against me, his mouth at my ear, his breath warm on my neck. He stripped my shirt off, and then my bra. His mouth returned to mine. The kisses were hotter and deeper. And then my jeans were gone, tugged over my hips and discarded. We moved from the dining room to the bedroom, both of us naked. His hands were everywhere on me. His mouth followed his hands.
    I had a whisper of a thought that this