It was unimaginable. However, Burke had told him that Lance had an airtight alibi. Why couldn’t he shake the feeling Jayna was in trouble?
Serious trouble!
Lance was too polished, too well-dressed. He drank cranberry and vodka! There’s no way the guy could handle a round of wing roulette. What did Jayna see in him?
Lance Romance was not the man for her. She needed someone who appreciated her rough edges, as she had referred to all her incredible traits. Incredible traits? He had once found them completely annoying, too. When had he changed his mind? When had he started thinking that he was the man for her?
He hadn’t changed his mind, had he? No!
Hell, NO!
Yet here he was, standing in her front hallway, trying desperately to convince her to dump the paramedic.
“Jayna, please.”
“Leave, Derek.” She pointed at the front door.
“You are so infuriating. I don’t know if I want to scream at you for being so dense or just kiss you senseless.”
“Neither.” She stepped back further. “Don’t even think about kissing me. You have no right.”
“Really?” He stepped forward.
“Really!” she hissed as his boots touched her toes.
“I don’t like being told what to do.”
“Neither do I.” She sucked in a breath as he reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
“I never noticed,” he chuckled and moved his head toward hers.
“Don’t,” she whispered as his head dropped.
“Don’t what?” His lips were inches from hers.
“Just don’t,” she said, breathless.
“Don’t do this?” he questioned, his lips brushing across hers.
“Yes.”
“Yes, don’t? Or yes, do?” His tongue flicked out, tracing the lines of her full, gorgeous lips. “I better not then.”
He stepped back, breaking the spell. His only motive was to talk some sense into her. Kissing her had not been the plan.
The same confusion he felt was mirrored in her eyes before it was replaced with a flare of anger.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” She moved around him and opened the door.
He shook his head. “I may have called you many things, but never stupid. Until now.”
Moving past her, he brushed his fingers across his mouth and then touched hers. Just to annoy her even more, he told himself. Not because he wanted to touch her one more time.
He paused as he walked toward his parked truck. Peaches. Her hair smelled like bloody peaches today. Seriously, that woman needed to pick a shampoo and stick to it. Then maybe she’d be able to think clearly. It could help her to be more decisive, and to realize that dating a murder suspect was probably not the smartest choice.
And if she had hair that smelled the same, then maybe it would stop wreaking havoc with his equilibrium.
He started walking briskly to his truck.