Page 31 of Twisted Fate

“I, uh, stayed here last night.” Both brows shot to her hairline, and I hurried to clarify. “Vance got in late because of the storms. The rain was coming down hard, and some of the roads were flooded. He didn’t want me to drive in it.” She eyed me skeptically as though he’d left the imprint of his kiss on my skin. “Thank goodness he has a guest room, so I didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” I added just in case. Was that too much? Did it make me seem more guilty or was it just the right amount of explanation? I fought the urge to fidget under her assessing gaze until she relaxed and spoke again.

“Well, it’s a good thing because there were wrecks everywhere. I heard on the radio this morning they had to rescue a woman from her car after a flash flood nearly swept it away.” She shook her head and stepped around me to go inside. Before shutting the door, she turned and spoke to me again. “You be careful going home, Delilah.” It could’ve been my imagination, but her words were tinged with warning. What for, I wasn’t sure.

The events from last night played over and over in my head on my drive home. I didn’t believe Vance had been drunk, but he’d certainly had enough to lower his inhibitions. The control he usually held on to had snapped, and he acted on impulse.

Why he’d been drinking in the first place was beyond me. Was that something he did every night? Did it help him sleep? He seemed like he had a lot on his mind. Maybe it threw him off having me in his house. Either way, I couldn’t help but wonder if he would have acted the same if it had been something else in his glass.

An ache settled in my chest at the memory of the regret written all over his face when he pulled away. He’d wanted to kiss me. I knew it from the way he’d desperately and feverishly devoured my lips, from the way he’d ground his erection into me with an almost animalistic need. Had that been all it was? Just a need for release that drove him to do what he did? Was I just an itch he needed to scratch? Was it simply because I looked so much likeher?

By the time I pulled up to my house, I had more questions, and I wasn’t sure I’d like the answers.

* * *

My heart racedas I turned on to Vance’s street the next morning. I’d seriously considered calling in sick—something I hadn’t done since I started working for him—but I didn’t want to leave him high and dry without a babysitter.Or look like a coward who was too afraid to face him again.I couldn’t let my anxiety over the awkwardness that was sure to be present keep me from doing my job.

And seeing my daughter.

I let myself in with the key Vance had given me when I started working for him. It took me a long time to get used to using it rather than knocking like a stranger, but Vance had said it made more sense for me to be able to let myself in rather than having to wait on him. It was a sign of his growing trust in me, something I wouldn’t squander by questioning it. That day, I’d felt a shift in our relationship. He’d started to see me as someone he could trust and rely on and not just the nanny he hired as a last resort.

There was an even bigger shift two nights ago when he had his tongue in my mouth and his fingers in my hair. I wasn’t sure how we'd come back from that. I wasn’t sure Iwantedto come back from it. My body craved more of his touch, more of that fire that scorched my soul and set my skin ablaze. Just thinking about it now had me fanning myself and taking a calming breath to keep from panting. That man knew how to kiss and exactly how to touch me. It had been far too long since I’d had someone who knew just what to do to get my motor running.

Face flushed and heart pounding, I pushed through the door that led into the kitchen and came to a halt. Vance was leaning over, pouring coffee into a travel mug with his phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear. His gaze snapped up at the sound of me entering the kitchen, and his eyes fixed on me briefly. Distracted, he overflowed his cup, not realizing until coffee began to flow over the edge of the counter and splash onto the floor.

“Shit,” he cursed and placed the pot back into the coffee maker. “Nothing,” he barked at the person on the other end of the line. “Just spilled my coffee.” He reached for the roll of paper towels and tore off a long strip, dabbing up the spilled drink on the counter first and then the floor. “No, it’s fine,” he assured the person on the phone. He listened for several long seconds as I stood motionless by the door, unable to command my feet to move. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he promised, not sparing me another glance. Finally, he hung up and grabbed his mug and headed for the exit.

“Charlie’s still asleep. I have a meeting to get to.” Before I could respond, he brushed past me, leaving out of the kitchen like the hounds of hell were at his heels. Clearly, he regretted what happened the other night and didn’t want a repeat. That was fine. It had been a mistake, anyway.

So why did it feel like my heart was being squeezed inside my chest?

31

Vance

I heldmy breath as I brushed past Delilah on my way out the door. If I inhaled her scent, I’d crack. I would turn around, grab her by the waist, and pull her against me just so I could hear her gasp before crashing my lips down on hers. It was all I could think about this morning while getting ready. I wanted more. I needed to taste her lips again and feel her soft skin against my palms. I longed to graze her silken heat with my fingers just to see how she would respond.

My yearning would have to go unanswered. I needed to put some distance between us and maintain clear boundaries. As badly as I wanted her, it would be a mistake. My wife hadn’t even been gone a year, and I wasn’t certain my attraction to Delilah was purely about her or if it was simply because she reminded me so much of Sarah. Guilt ate at me with that thought. Not only did Delilah deserve better—not a man grieving for his wife who just so happened to look like her—but I'd also played a part in Sarah’s untimely death. It was my fault she was gone. The doctors had warned us she needed to keep her blood pressure down, but when I found an inappropriate message on her phone from another man, I’d lost it. The fight that ensued after that was the last time I saw her alive. She was gone, and I only had myself to blame.

I didn’t deserve to be happy. I didn’t deserve to move on with another woman, certainly not Delilah. I’d probably end up hurting her too. It was best if I kept my distance, for both our sakes.

* * *

The house smelledlike vanilla and sweet cream when I came through the door that evening. I followed the sound of music to the kitchen where I found Charlie and Delilah singing as they piped pastel colored frosting onto sugar cookies. There was white powder all over the counters, their faces, and in their hair, but Charlie’s smile was well worth the mess. The two sang in unison to Charlie’s favorite Disney song. Delilah leaned over as she piped the last row of cookies, shimmying to the beat of the chorus. Her ass moved back and forth beneath her cut-off denim shorts, and I fought back a groan. Here, I'd resolved to stay away from her, to quit lusting after the woman caring for my child, and all I could think about was running my hands up the backs of her thighs and under her shorts.

I cleared my throat as I tried to get ahold of myself, and two sets of matching blue eyes snapped to where I stood in the doorway. “Daddy,” Charlie squealed. It was a sound I would never grow tired of. She hopped off her stool and ran to me.

“Charlie, wait! You’re covered in—” Delilah tried to warn her, but it was too late. Charlie slammed into my legs, and a cloud of powdered sugar erupted between us. I didn’t care, though. My little girl was excited to see me. I scooped her up and held her close. At least I wasn’t wearing my suit jacket, so the white powder blended in with my white dress shirt. My pants hadn’t fared so well, but that was what the dry cleaner was for.

“We made cookies!” Charlie clapped excitedly.

“I see that,” I replied with a playful grin. My gaze moved to Delilah, and she looked away, returning her focus to the cookies. I swallowed hard, knowing I’d hurt her with my dismissive attitude this morning. I felt like the world’s biggest jerk. She went above and beyond for Charlie and me. She didn’t have to bake cookies with her or set up playdates or do the laundry on occasion, but she did it anyway. She was fucking wonderful, and I’d practically ignored her instead of being an adult and talking to her about what had happened.

“Can I have one?” Charlie asked, batting those ridiculously long eyelashes at me. “Pwease,” she pleaded, pressing her hands together like she was praying. She knew she wasn’t allowed to have sweets before she ate her dinner, but she caught me at a weak moment.

“Just one,” I said, holding up my pointer finger. She wiggled with excitement, and I set her on her feet. She went to the counter to make her selection, deliberating over what color frosting she wanted. Finally, she plucked a pink one off the parchment and held onto it with both hands as she took a bite. She bounced with sheer delight as she chewed, and I watched as a soft smile formed over Delilah’s lips. I couldn’t imagine what went through her head in moments like these. It was clear she loved Charlie. Did she regret missing out on the first few years of her life? Was she trying to make up for it now?

“I’m going to start on dinner. Do you want to help?” Charlie’s head rose and dipped in a dramatic nod, her mouth too full to speak. Delilah giggled, and the sound went straight to my groin. Everything this woman did felt sensual, even the most mundane actions. I was secretly overjoyed that she hadn’t started cooking yet because that meant I had more time to prepare what I’d say to her. We’d get a chance to talk after dinner. I just hoped I could stay focused with her long tan legs on display.

I snuck away to change out of my work clothes while Delilah set out the ingredients for dinner. When I returned, she was helping Charlie whisk an egg.

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