Harris accepted the invitation and slipped his tongue in for a deep, hot, wet kiss that lasted just long enough to get him semihard.
“I missed you,” he growled against her mouth.
Speaking must have broken the spell, because she blinked and shoved him back. She was breathing fast and her lips were slightly swollen and very pink. She readjusted her crooked glasses, then scowled. “Yeah right. You missed me so much that you’re following strange women around, desperate to meet your secret admirer.”
“Not desperate.” Harris wasn’t all that steady on his feet at the moment. The idea of laying her out on the desk, pushing up her sensible jumper and indulging in a little office sex tempted him. But she didn’t look too receptive to that idea. “Just curious. If some guy was in love with you, wouldn’t you be curious?”
A myriad of expressions—anger, frustration, hopelessness—crossed her face before she sighed and flopped back in her seat. “Maybe.” Her chin lifted. “But not if I was interested in someone else.”
Harris propped his hip on the desk. He needed the support. “I’m more than interested, Clair.”
Eyes flaring, she caught her bottom lip in her teeth. “Really?”
Was she in love with him? As to that, was he in love with her? Harris had always figured that when he fell in love, the realization would hit him over the head. He wouldn’t have to wonder about it, he’d just know. But Clair was so different, he couldn’t figure her out. And that meant he couldn’t really figure himself out either.
Choosing his words carefully, Harris hoped to talk her around to his way of thinking, without looking too pushy or, God forbid, desperate. “I like being with you, Clair. Even before all this sexual teasing started between us.” That brought another thought, and he asked, “You won’t go changing on me if we get involved, will you?”
Clair was as still as a statue. “What do you mean?”
“You tell me what you think and what you feel. But you don’t get hung up on little stuff. You’re always honest with me.”
She’d closed her eyes and Harris wasn’t sure if she was listening. “Clair?”
Leaving her chair to pace, she said, “We’re already involved. We just haven’t slept together. If you like me how I am now, well, I can’t see why sex should change anything.”
“Sex changes some stuff.”
She turned to face him, one brow raised in an attitude of skepticism. “How?”
How? Harris shook his head and rethought his words. “I should say that sex between us will change things. If you were a different woman—”
“Your secret admirer?”
“Don’t sneer, Clair.” He liked her show of jealousy. It sort of tickled him, because he’d never thought of Clair as a jealous woman. “All I’m saying is that with another woman, I might not care. But if we do this, I’ll expect some rights.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What rights?”
Somehow, this was backward, Harris thought, almost laughing at himself. Here he was, a man who avoided commitments, now trying to pin her down. But what had seemed so appealing just days before, now felt too open-ended. Clair never pressured him, never wanted to know where he was or when he’d be back or if he’d call. He was a firefighter, yet, to his knowledge, she never worried. And that had been cool—till now.
If she cared, shouldn’t she show a little concern every now and then? Shouldn’t she want to know if he was with another woman? Damn right, because if she didn’t demand that special consideration, how could he demand it of her? And he wanted to. All this talk about her past boyfriend had him feeling his own dose of jealousy. He didn’t want her with anyone else.
Harris pushed away from the desk. “I won’t want you to ever jog at night without me.” He warmed to his topic, moving closer to her. “Hell, I don’t want you to do that now. If I can’t make it, you’ll skip it.”
Her mouth fell
“I missed you,” he growled against her mouth.
Speaking must have broken the spell, because she blinked and shoved him back. She was breathing fast and her lips were slightly swollen and very pink. She readjusted her crooked glasses, then scowled. “Yeah right. You missed me so much that you’re following strange women around, desperate to meet your secret admirer.”
“Not desperate.” Harris wasn’t all that steady on his feet at the moment. The idea of laying her out on the desk, pushing up her sensible jumper and indulging in a little office sex tempted him. But she didn’t look too receptive to that idea. “Just curious. If some guy was in love with you, wouldn’t you be curious?”
A myriad of expressions—anger, frustration, hopelessness—crossed her face before she sighed and flopped back in her seat. “Maybe.” Her chin lifted. “But not if I was interested in someone else.”
Harris propped his hip on the desk. He needed the support. “I’m more than interested, Clair.”
Eyes flaring, she caught her bottom lip in her teeth. “Really?”
Was she in love with him? As to that, was he in love with her? Harris had always figured that when he fell in love, the realization would hit him over the head. He wouldn’t have to wonder about it, he’d just know. But Clair was so different, he couldn’t figure her out. And that meant he couldn’t really figure himself out either.
Choosing his words carefully, Harris hoped to talk her around to his way of thinking, without looking too pushy or, God forbid, desperate. “I like being with you, Clair. Even before all this sexual teasing started between us.” That brought another thought, and he asked, “You won’t go changing on me if we get involved, will you?”
Clair was as still as a statue. “What do you mean?”
“You tell me what you think and what you feel. But you don’t get hung up on little stuff. You’re always honest with me.”
She’d closed her eyes and Harris wasn’t sure if she was listening. “Clair?”
Leaving her chair to pace, she said, “We’re already involved. We just haven’t slept together. If you like me how I am now, well, I can’t see why sex should change anything.”
“Sex changes some stuff.”
She turned to face him, one brow raised in an attitude of skepticism. “How?”
How? Harris shook his head and rethought his words. “I should say that sex between us will change things. If you were a different woman—”
“Your secret admirer?”
“Don’t sneer, Clair.” He liked her show of jealousy. It sort of tickled him, because he’d never thought of Clair as a jealous woman. “All I’m saying is that with another woman, I might not care. But if we do this, I’ll expect some rights.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What rights?”
Somehow, this was backward, Harris thought, almost laughing at himself. Here he was, a man who avoided commitments, now trying to pin her down. But what had seemed so appealing just days before, now felt too open-ended. Clair never pressured him, never wanted to know where he was or when he’d be back or if he’d call. He was a firefighter, yet, to his knowledge, she never worried. And that had been cool—till now.
If she cared, shouldn’t she show a little concern every now and then? Shouldn’t she want to know if he was with another woman? Damn right, because if she didn’t demand that special consideration, how could he demand it of her? And he wanted to. All this talk about her past boyfriend had him feeling his own dose of jealousy. He didn’t want her with anyone else.
Harris pushed away from the desk. “I won’t want you to ever jog at night without me.” He warmed to his topic, moving closer to her. “Hell, I don’t want you to do that now. If I can’t make it, you’ll skip it.”
Her mouth fell
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