Page 299 of Tempted By her Daddies

“Of course not. Unexpected, but not wrong.”

“Although you might want to remember she’s five-foot nothing next time and not lean all your weight on her,” Roman said, walking back up to them. “I had to quickly catch her before you both toppled to the floor.”

Tamsyn groaned and leaned forward, placing her forehead on Salem’s chest. See? This is why she didn’t want to come in.

“Roman, I nearly had her calmed down,” Salem scolded.

“Oh. Sorry. I thought she was wanting feedback.”

“I was. I am. I’m sorry. Should I apologize?” she asked.

Salem rubbed his hand up and down her back. “Definitely not. I’m sure my mum loved that hug. It was enthusiastic and real. I’m sure she appreciated that.”

Right. Yeah. She wasn’t sure that his mum had really appreciated nearly being pushed over from a stranger’s hug.

This right here is why she needed to do some research first.

You’re an idiot.

“What are the four of you doing in here? First, you stand on the pavement giving the neighbors a show, now you’re allcrowded into the entrance, surrounding that poor girl. She probably can’t even breathe. Big brutes are taking up all of her air. Come here, dear. Come with me and meet my husband, Salem’s father.”

“Oh, thank you.” She stared down at the hand that his mum held out. Was it all right to take it? What if she hurt her?

“You can take it,” Salem whispered to her.

All right.

His mum wrapped her hand around Tamsyn’s. Her hand was warm and dry. It was strange. The only hands she could ever recall holding were these three guys.

Salem’s mum led her through a well-worn but homey house. All of the walls of the hallway were covered in photos. The carpet was worn and looked like it had once been a deep red but was now faded.

It was so welcoming that she could spend hours just in this room. But then they came out into a living room. There were two men who looked a bit like Salem. Both of them were sitting on the couch. Two women were sitting on armchairs across from them, talking to each other. And an older man was seated in a recliner. It was the older man who looked up first.

He stared at her from eyes that were so like Salem’s that they held her frozen for a moment. He ran his gaze over her.

Did he . . . was there something wrong? Had she spilled something on her? Or not worn something appropriate?

Salem had dressed her, though, so it was his fault if she was.

“If I’m dressed wrong, it’s his fault.” She pointed at Salem. “He chose everything I’m wearing.”

There was silence.

That didn’t seem to be a good sign. What had she said wrong?

“He chose everything?” one of the women asked.

That was the problem? Was he not allowed to choose what she wore?

“Uh, yes. Salem bought them all for me. Is something wrong with them?”

She had a limited wardrobe of her own. None of which she’d actually chosen herself. When on a job she simply wore what blended in and what was comfortable. She glanced down at her comfortable fitted black pants and cropped white sweater with the gold buttons.

“Look, I know it’s a bit boring and staid, but he did his best and I don’t think we should be mean to him just because he got it a bit wrong. Yeah?”

Now they were all staring at her with wide eyes, their mouths slightly open.

Alexei started to cough again and she whirled on him. “You are sick! I’m not sure you should be here.” She turned back to Salem’s mum. “I’m so sorry, I would never have let him come if I knew he was ill.”

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