Stepping onto the bus, he took a spot near the driver. That didn’t stop him from remembering her smooth skin beneath his fingers only moments before. Speaking of...
He twisted his hand around, confused by the long, shallow scratch that ran the length of his finger. The zipper on her skirt must have a bent tooth.
Ignoring the burning cut, he let himself sway with the bus as it moved, all the while considering his next move. It would have to be both cautious and bold. Never an easy combination.
He grinned. That only meant whatever he came up with would be memorable, hopefully in all the right ways. It would have to spell things out very clearly.
He wasn’t about to give up on her.
10
GRACE’S HANDS SHOOK. She couldn’t get them to stop as she put together the client file for their one-thirty meeting. The second time she dropped the two-prong clasp, she shut the folder and dropped her hands to her lap. This...this...thing with Justin had to stop. He couldn’t keep rattling her, taking her to lunch at an emotional haven and then kissing her senseless at the bus stop. The bus stop, for heaven’s sake.
Her fingers absently stroked her parted lips as she remembered the way he’d taken over, taken responsibility from her and allowed her to simply experience the kiss. He’d tasted like bacon. The faintest facial hair had begun to grow in on his jaw, brushing her soft skin and making her that much more aware of him. His hands had woven through her hair, claiming control of even the way she tilted her head. Her heart had crashed against her ribs, and heavy pulses had landed between her thighs with undisguised physical craving. She’d wanted him.
She still wanted him.
He’d left her unfulfilled. The unapologetic bulge in his pants said he hadn’t been unaffected, either. Had they been somewhere more private, she probably would have pulled a King Kong and scaled him like the Empire State Building. Thank God they had been in public. She couldn’t let this get any further out of hand. She couldn’t get more involved and maintain her sanity. She couldn’t let him derail all she’d worked for over the years by feeding the fierce attraction between them.
“Get it under control, Cooper,” she whispered, reaching for the folder.
“Who’re you talking to?”
She jerked so hard she sent the container of two-prong clasps flying. They scattered across the floor, some sliding under the desk while others gently wedged themselves under Justin’s shoes.
“Office-supply rebellion?” One corner of his mouth curled up in a lopsided smile as he closed the door. “That doesn’t strike me as your speed, Grace. If you were going to throw something at me, I would have expected something more in line with, oh, the chair.”
“Duly noted. ‘Boss expects physical abuse and property destruction.’”
He snorted and shook his head, bending over to pick up the file clasps. “I went over the notes for our one-thirty. The patient’s got some serious anger issues. He’s being courted by one of Seattle’s most violent gangs and already has an impressive arrest record. Assault, destruction of public property, possession of a stolen firearm and possession with the intent to distribute. The last is what landed him here.”
Grace grabbed a pad of paper and began taking notes. “Which gang?”
“Deuce-8.”