Page 21 of Sexy Bad Daddy

Chapter Six

GARRETT

“Is she a real princess, Daddy?” Abby clings to my arm as she points out a woman in an expensive cocktail dress.

“Sorry, Abby, she’s not a princess.”

“But, Daddy, she’s wearing a princess dress.” Eyes wide as saucers, she scrunches the blue tulle in her hands and lifts it to show me. “See, it’s like mine, and you said I was a princess.”

“Because you are a princess.” Outside the open doors to the ballroom that’s set up for tonight’s charity dinner, I set Abby on her feet and crouch to chuck her under the chin. “Now, do you have your goat?”

“Uh-huh.” She nods solemnly. “Erin said it was in my bag. Why am I a princess and that lady’s not one?”

“Um.” Why does child logic have to be so infallible? I can work my way around a golf course with less time spent in the rough than I do when trying to deal with my daughter’s unfailing reasoning. “Well—”

“Every girl is a princess, Abby.” Erin joins us, scooping up Abby’s hand in her own as she bends as close as she can. “You ask any daddy and they’ll tell you their daughter is their princess. That’s why your daddy doesn’t see anybody else here as a princess. Only you.”

“Even your daddy?” Abby turns her attention to Erin.

“Even mine.”

I probably should get to my feet the minute I turn my gaze on her. It would be smarter than lingering too long at a height that brings me in direct eye contact with the diaphanous blue-gray dress that ends above her knees. I shouldn’t imagine scraping my hands up her tanned skin, hiking the sheer material inch by torturous inch off her thighs so I can slip my fingers between them. I shouldn’t want to touch her at all. I definitely should not want to pull her closer by that inconsequential skirt and stick my head under it so I can lick her.

And another thing I have no business considering is whether the nanny is wearing any panties. Or what kind they are. Or if that sloth of a boyfriend she’s with has any idea how to make a girl like her scream his name. I bet he doesn’t. That kid has no idea. I climb to my feet and pray that my erection isn’t too out there and proud.

She smiles at my daughter and then turns to me. The color of her eyes deepens against her auburn curls messily gathered up on one side of her head, and the beaded top of the dress makes them sparkle.

I’m a perfectly healthy thirty-seven-year-old guy, and based on the erratic rhythm of my pulse, it’s possible I’m having a heart attack.

“What do you think, Daddy? Is Erin a princess?”

She’s something all right. Beautiful. Sexy. Arm candy. Abby’s sensational nanny. The pain in my chest increases, and the back of my neck feels a little damp. Rolling one shoulder and then the other, I fiddle with the knot in my tie and clear my throat.

“Here.” Erin steps closer and straightens my tie.

“Da-a-d.” A small hand tugs on my jacket.

She’s so close I note every single eyelash smudged dark with mascara as it kisses her cheek. “Y-yes. Erin is a princess too.”

“Thank you.” She finishes with my tie, but her fingers stay glued to the silk as she glances up at me. The fine lines of her lips that give texture to her lipstick draw my attention. I want to kiss them, taste them, suck the color off them. The more I try to fight this attraction, the harder it gets to ignore.

Want is such a funny word, isn’t it? One minute I had this perfectly acceptable life with no kids, no responsibilities beyond the game. I didn’t want anything. The next a tiny stealth ninja is making all my decisions and holding me ransom. And the things I want are multiplying. “We should go in.”

“Of course.” Erin steps back and touches the small bead pearls at her ear with one hand while she takes Abby’s in the other. When they turn to lead the way into the ballroom, I adjust the front of my tuxedo and repeat the periodic timetable backward.

“There you are.” Callum strides toward us before we’ve made it more than a few steps. “We’ve been waiting for you. I’ve spoken with Fiona Davenport from PEOPLEMagazine and Kalvin Cooper from Golf Digest. They’re already seated at our table, and they’re all worked up to get the exclusive on the little miss’s formal introduction to society.” He drops his hands to his knees and bends down to Abby. “How’s my favorite golf prodigy?”

“Uncle Callum, when are you going to buy me a goat? You said you were going to get me my very own goat.”

“That’s right.” He stands and straightens his tie then runs a hand through his strawberry- blond hair while he grimaces an apology. “Didn’t think you were going to remember that. Um, some deals just take a little longer to come to fruition, girly. I’ll keep working on your dad.”

“No, you won’t.” I clamp a hand on Callum’s shoulder and drag him into the ballroom. “No goats, no pigs, no ducks. No farm animals of any kind. I’m not running a circus.”

“Well, then you aren’t going to like this.” Callum’s green eyes sparkle as he rubs his hands together, claps me on the shoulder briefly, and powers ahead of me toward the paparazzi he invited.

***

“Garrett, I’m going to take her home. All the excitement has tuckered her out.” Erin gets up from the table and reaches for Abby, who is fast asleep on my lap, her little fists balled up around the lapels of my jacket. A hot spot under her cheek that I’m immediately suspicious of seeps through my shirt as Kalvin drags out an antiquated recording device he places on the table along with a notepad.

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