Page 12 of Hunted

“Thanks. It’s just me, so it’s easy.”

A swell of joy crested inside her before she tamped it down.Don’t care. Don’t care. You have no right to care.

Except shedidcare, more than she wanted to admit.

With the help of the directions, Leila grouped the assorted pieces and parts into piles while Clint assembled it all together. Theyworked well as a team, she noted, despite their different styles. Before long, the crib was ready to go.

Clint stood and held out his hand to help her up from where she was kneeling on the floor. She took his offered hand, and for just a second, she allowed herself to enjoy the frisson of awareness that sizzled up her arm from their point of contact. He met her gaze and she’d swear she saw an answering heat in his eyes before he hid it away again. It was the same heat she’d sensed back in the parking lot when they’d shaken hands the first time, the same heat she’d felt at the shooting range the day before when she’d turned and found him close—so close, that they’d nearly kissed…

Oh, Lord. She was in major trouble here.

Clearing her throat, she busied herself by walking around the crib and checking it all for safety. “Thanks for helping me get this together,” she said at last, her voice gruffer than usual due to the constriction in her throat. “Would’ve taken me hours by myself.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and helped him maneuver the crib over against the wall. “That’s perfect. We’ll try and stay out of your way now.”

Clint stopped fussing with the crib placement. “You’re not in my way.” He watched her, the length of the crib between them. “It’s nice having someone else here besides me for a change.”

Did he mean that? Or was he just being a good host? She studied him, and a pang of sympathy stabbed through her at the hint of loneliness in his expression. She knew that feeling. Most nights she was so busy with her son or so exhausted from work that there wasn’t the time or energy for socializing or dating. Didn’t mean she still didn’t stare at the ceiling late at night,remembering what it was like to have another warm body beside her in bed.

Time seemed to slow, and her breath hitched as he leaned in, closer, closer, so close she could see his pupils blown wide, nearly obscuring the blue of his irises, could feel his warm breath stir the hair near her temples. He was going to kiss her. She was going to let him. This was going to happen…

“Mama!”

Thomas’s plaintive cry came from the bed and snapped Leila from her sensual haze in a second. She switched from wanton woman to devoted mother instantly. “Oh, Thomas. Baby. What’s the matter?”

She leaned down to pick up her son, aware of Clint walking out of the room. Leila exhaled slowly, the tension inside her easing as she held her son close, feeling like she’d dodged a bullet of forbidden temptation once more.

7

What was that sound? Clint woke instantly. It was early, daylight barely creeping around the shades. Something was off. He held still, listening until he could finally identify what he was hearing. Music. A lively, fast beat and singing.

Right. His house guests. He scrubbed a hand over his face and put his feet on the floor. It had been late by the time he’d gotten to sleep. Having a woman with glowing skin and sexy curves in his house had taken a chunk out of his night as he’d stared at the ceiling asking himself two questions.

One, what the hell had he been thinking by inviting Leila to stay with him?

Two, would she have let him go ahead with that kiss if her son hadn’t woken up?

Question two brought him to a third question. Were her lips as pillowy soft as they looked?

He groaned. Not helpful. And not appropriate. There was too much at stake for him to be thinking with the wrong part of his anatomy.

“Mama?” Thomas’s voice drifted to Clint. The kid didn’t seem upset, just confused maybe. Where was Leila? That’s when he clued in that she was singing in the shower. Not a mental image he needed right then. He shoved it away as he yanked on sweats and a T-shirt. Putting himself on kid duty should kill any wayward sexy thoughts about the woman in the shower.

His bathroom was en suite, but the guestrooms shared one down the hall. When he passed the door, he heard her voice more distinctly. It was low and sweet sounding. He willed himself not to listen as he pushed open the door to the room where she and Thomas were staying. The bed was rumpled as if she’d had a restless night, too. Couldn’t blame her after the day she’d had.

“Hi,” Thomas said. He was standing in the crib, holding onto the top rail. “Me up.”

“I can see you’re up.” Clint reached for the boy, lifting him from the crib. He wasn’t a natural with kids, but he had some experience from his foster home days. The older kids had been expected to help out with the little ones. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. How about we find you some food?”

He carried Thomas out of the room. As they passed the bathroom, Clint heard the water shut off. He was tempted to yell to her to take her time since he’d watch Thomas, but Clint was afraid that it would make her rush since she seemed concerned about taking advantage of the situation. She’d thanked him countless times the day before, and it wasn’t necessary.

“What’s good for breakfast?” Clint pondered aloud as he crossed the great room on the way to the kitchen.

“Me play,” Thomas said and started squirming in Clint’s arms. He looked around. A laundry basket with toys in it was sitting near his coffee table, and Thomas had spotted it. “Play.”

“Message received, little man. Play first, breakfast later.” Clint put the kid down near the basket. He’d figured out already that the kid like cars. Apparently, trains were high on the list of favs, too. The boy yanked a blue train engine with a smiling face on the front from the basket and began running it along the couch cushions.

“Choo-choo,” he said and zoomed the engine across Clint’s thigh. “Me train.”

“Yeah, it’s your train. No one’s going to take it.”

---