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“And I see you earned her phone number in the process.”
“You were watching me, baby doll?” I retrieve the business card the woman gave me and hand that over, too. “This is in case you have any problems with the sizes.”
“Sure it is.” She eyes me with derision, before opening the first bag to glance inside. “There has to be enough clothes here to last a week.”
“Good.” I start the engine and pull from the curb. “I’m not sure how long we’re going to be hanging out together, so at least this gives you some options.”
She leans down, toeing her feet into a white skirt, then dragging it up her legs to shimmy it over her ass.
It’s an impressive show I pretend not to watch from the corner of my eye. “We passed a diner on the way in, is that good enough for breakfast?”
“You don’t want to get a shirt first?”
Shit. My stomach rumbles in protest. “I’ll have to leave the shopping spree until later. I’m too hungry.”
“Thank God. I don’t think I can last much longer without sustenance.” She tugs the hem down her thighs, covering perfect skin before she moves her attention to the buttons of my dress shirt.
“Do you want me to pull into an alley to give you privacy?” I drag my gaze over the passing cars, willing the passengers not to pay her attention.
“It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”
I may have seen it, enjoyed it, and committed it to memory, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with her sharing the goods with any Tom, Dick, or buck-tooth Bill in the vicinity.
“It’s not me I’m worried about.” The thought of someone else looking at her makes me edgy. Goddamn twitchy.
I tighten my fingers around the steering wheel and pull up to a set of traffic lights. My jaw locks while I glare at the approaching Chevy in my rear-view that stops in the lane beside us.
The male driver is young, with shaggy hair and a fla
“You’ve got an audience.” I inch forward to meet the asshole’s gaze, shooting him a look so scathing a smart man would contemplate his mortality.
He doesn’t take my expression for the warning it is. Instead, he grins like he’s about to blow in his pants.
“Keira,” I growl, “you might want to cover up until the light changes.”
She ignores me. The peeping tom, too.
She doesn’t care at all. Not about the perfect chest she has on display or the smooth stomach as she shimmies out of my shirt and reaches down to pull out a light pink blouse from one of the shopping bags.
My palms sweat. My pulse fucking pounds.
I don’t know why I give a shit, but I do. The anger coursing through me is unwarranted and fucking toxic.
To make matters worse, she struggles to maneuver her arm into the sleeve, her cleavage gaping as she bends forward.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
The shaggy fucker is practically laughing at his good fortune while my skin crawls.
“I’ve got something else you can look at, asshole.” I reach for my gun.
“Don’t you dare,” she warns, finally working one arm into the sleeve. “Just ignore him.”
Ignore him?
Ignore him.
I can’t fucking breathe through the need to kill him.
I check the lights. Still red. Then I glance around the intersection.
“For fuck’s sake. What is taking so long?” Apart from Grandpa Joe driving his white van past at five miles an hour, nobody else is on the road. The universe is mocking me with this bullshit. “Fuck this.”
I press my foot on the accelerator. Hard. The tires screech as we surge forward. At this point, a ticket is better than a murder charge.
“What the hell, Decker?” Keira scrambles to clutch her belt and the door handle for support.
“The guy beside us was practically jerking off at your strip tease,” I snarl.
“And ru
“Fuck yes.” I ease off the pedal and cut down a side-street, not willing to trust my waning restraint if Chevy Boy decides to follow. “Somehow I think your brother would approve of my actions.”
“I think he’d be more likely to kill you for endangering the Porsche.” She wiggles, repositioning herself in the seat as she fixes the first button, her gaze heating the side of my face. “And besides, it’s my modesty to protect. Not his. I’ve got more concerning things to worry about at the moment.”
“You could’ve figured that out before I pimp-walked through the clothing store on your behalf. Minutes ago, you were all shy and i
“Are we really arguing about this?”
Yes, we fucking are, and no, it doesn’t make sense. I’m acting like a jealous little bitch over Cole Torian’s sister. “I’m here to protect you in whatever way necessary.”
“And I appreciate that, officer, but you can cut the crap when it comes to anyone not wielding a gun.”
I grind my teeth and focus on the road, wishing the asphalt would open up and swallow me whole. “It’s the lack of sleep,” I growl. “And I’m fucking hungry.”
She snickers. “Don’t worry. I get it.”
No, she doesn’t. She has no clue I’d love to whisk her away from this shit, like a badass Prince Charming. But I’m still not sure if she needs to be saved. Or wants to be, for that matter.
“You can pull back onto the main road. I’m done.” She tugs at the front of her shirt and grins. “All censored for your approval.”
“Not fu
“Come on.” Her grin turns to a smirk. “You’ve gotta admit it’s a little fu
“Nope. Unless you want me waving my dick around in public to distract attention from you, let’s agree to keep our clothes on.”
She presses her lips tight, her chest vibrating with silent laughter. “Who says I’d be opposed to you taking your clothes off?”
Fuck. Me.
The last thing I need right now is more complication. Increased temptation. I still have the crystal-clear recollection of her in the shower last night.
Half-naked.
Wet.
Vulnerable.
“For the sake of your brother not killing me, I’m going to take that as a fucking cruel joke.”
“Okay.” Her laughter fades as she grabs a pair of black flip-flops from the bag and slips them on. “For the sake of my brother not killing you, I’ll pretend I was joking.”
Jesus.
I cling to the steering wheel while I drive to the diner, then park the car and reclaim my shirt. Seconds later I’m striding inside, her soft footfalls following behind me.
I don’t face her until we reach the counter. Even then it’s hard not to stake a claim on all the perfection that Chevy-driving asshole was trying to visually violate. “Can you order me whatever you’re having, along with enough food to take home for the rest of the day?” I hand over my wallet. “I’ve gotta make some calls.”
“Okay…” She frowns. “Sure.”
“You’re going to be fine on your own for five minutes, aren’t you?”
“I think I can handle it.” She stares up at the billboard menu. “But don’t be too long. I might get bored and start stripping for tips.”
I scowl, pissed off that the creative side of my brain can conjure up a visual faster than I can form a comeback.