“I couldn’t stay away,” he said with no apology. “So are you packed?”
Claire cringed, grateful he couldn’t see her. “Not yet,” she said, carefully.
“Claire, what are you doing? You’re not still on the job, are you?”
She heard the thread of control in his voice and rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to figure out how to answer so she caught the least amount of shit.
“No, I left your job hours ago,” she said and waited to see if he’d let her slide.
“God damn it, Claire!”
Guess not.
“You’re at your flip, aren’t you? Fuck, woman,” he said not waiting for her answer. “Tell me you are not in that neighborhood by yourself at this time of night.”
Her anger flared. There was nothing wrong with the neighborhood – not much anyway – and how the hell did he know where the house was? Fucking controlling Neanderthal. “It’s not a bad …” she started.
“Fuck.” He bit out the word, and she heard him banging around. “Did you bother to eat anything? Yes or no, Claire?” he snapped when she didn’t answer.
“No.”
“Stay inside with the door locked until I get there.”
“I’m fine,” she started, but he hung up before she finished her sentence.
“THANKS, MAN,”LUKE said, taking the paper bag from Eric’s hand.
“No problem,” said the chef. “Claire’s hot and she liked my food. I’m happy to provide her food or anything else she needs.” The double entendre was heavy in his voice.
“Not going to happen.” Up until last night with Claire, some of the best sex of Luke’s life had been when he and Eric fucked a woman together. It was not going to happen with Claire. She belonged to him, at least until he managed to work her out of his system and could think again.
“Pity,” said Eric, rubbing his chin. “I would love to get in that sweet ass of hers.”
“Again, not going to happen.” Luke fought the urge to pound the man who’d just done him a favor.
“If you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
Luke spent the drive to Claire’s property trying to talk himself out of murdering her. What the fuck was she thinking? Just yesterday, he’d pulled her off the job because she was so tired she was falling off ladders. Working at eleven o’clock at night, the woman was a fucking menace. He’d bet money she hadn’t bothered to eat anything all day. If she didn’t kill herself, he was tempted to do it for her.
Luke pulled his Veyron into the drive behind Claire’s truck and hoped it would still be there when he came out. It wasn’t a terrible neighborhood. Things were moving in the right direction and she should be able to sell the house when it was finished. But it was nowhere he wanted her to be by herself at night. He grabbed the paper bag and made his way to the front door. Inside he heard a job radio blaring in the background.
Christ, he could pick the lock on the door and be in the house without her ever hearing him. The idea of someone touching Claire made the blood run like ice in his veins, and he let some of his anger bleed into his fist pounding on the door. The music shut off and a few moments later she stood on the other side of the door, staring through the glass panel at him looking angry and gorgeous.
“Fuck Masters, are you trying to break my door?”
“Not me, but anyone who wanted to get in here could, and you’d never hear them trying over the racket.”
She rolled her eyes at him and he fought the urge to turn her over his knee. She made him fucking crazy.
“I need to finish the drywall and painting,” she said. “In fact as nice as it is to see you, the sooner I can get back to work, the sooner I can get finished.”
Yep, before they were through with each other he’d have her bent over his lap, her naked ass in the air under his bare hand.
“Shut up. Cleanest spot in the house?”
“Upstairs,” she said, rolling her eyes.
