Page 17 of Reckless Temptation

He dragged his intense gaze up me slowly, as if now considering how different I had to look from earlier when I bumped into him. Gone were my wet clothes clinging to my skin, my “professional” attire second-hand and soggy. Now, in short cutoffs and a threadbare Pink Floyd shirt, my hair loose and untamed, left down after my shower, I felt so bare. Without my office-like clothes as a mask to hide behind, it was almost like he could seeme. The real me, not the obedient scholarship student overly eager to please and fall in line.

“Where are you hurrying off to this time, Sabrina?”

I frowned, unnerved that he’d know my name. Never mind how it sounded, so gritty and sensual like a rough caress that tempted me to get closer to him. That smoky rasp wouldn’t work on me.

He was a bad boy, a jerk who’d stoop to teasing me like everyone else.

And he would have no place in my life.

“None of your business,” I replied, tipping my chin up before I moved to get around him.

I refused to be any of his business. Even if he rocked his shoulder into me, body-checking me as I stepped by. He could push and bug me, and I wouldn’t engage in anything with him.

Whoever he was—other than another bully out to torment me—I wouldn’t let him interfere with my plans.

As I dodged him, fearing another, harder push, I didn’t fall. He didn’t trip me either. No fountain waited nearby for me to tip into it.

Yet, as I hurried away to reach the library, I felt the wicked burn of his stare branding my back every step of the way.

6

NICK

Acouple of days later, Diego came through for me and hollered out that I’d be late.

“Nick!” He shouted it from the other side of the studio, working on a sketch. “Six thirty, amigo!”

Fuck.I sighed as I set my paint brush down. “Thanks!” I yelled back, not sure he’d hear me over the old alternative rock blaring from the speakers. It was a godsend that Diego had an in with the art department. They never gave us a hard time in here, and it was strictly my studio space to share with him.

Sometimes, it paid off to know the right people. It was the same reason I hurried through cleaning up to speed home for another dinner. George Lorsen would never be a replacement to my dad. He didn’t try to be a father figure, either, seeming to respect that he and I would never be close. But hewasthe man who was giving me and my mother a place to live. I wasn’t aware of all the details about Mr. Lorsen being an old friend of my dad’s, but I wasn’t so stupid as to treat him like he didn’t matter.

Don’t bite the hand that feeds.

I rushed home, not bothering with a helmet again because I forgot it this morning. Normally, it didn’t matter. But this time, my mother spotted me parking and setting my bike on its stand.

“Nick. Where is your helmet?” she asked from the front steps to the mansion. She was out there with George as they appeared to be leaving.

“Um. Sorry. I forgot it.” I shrugged as I approached them.

“That’s not good enough, Nick,” she said softly as I leaned in to kiss her cheek. “You’re all I’ve got left now.” Then as if remembering it wasn’t just me and her out here, she smiled—almost—at George as he stood behind her and straightened out his jacket. “Well, notallI’ve got,” she amended.

He smiled at her, not taking offense. Sometimes, I had to wonder if he and Mom were more like roommates, like Tiffany and I were. Their affection was… mild. I didn’t want to see my mom with another guy because it felt like dishonoring Dad, but I understood that she was at least trying to move on.

“What’s going on?” I furrowed my brow as a car was brought closer. “Is dinner pushed for later?”

“We’re going to a fundraising gala tonight,” George said, holding his hand out for Mom to take.

She did, but then she removed her hand from his grip to check her hair. “I might not have mentioned it,” she told me. “There is plenty of leftover BBQ from lunch for you, though.”

“Tiffany ordered takeout for herself and Rachel,” George added.

I nodded. Then I smiled at my mother. “You look nice.” It wasn’t often that she got dressed up like this, the whole nine yards.

“Thanks, Nick.” Again, her smile seemed forced. Weak. Like she wasn’t really here or invested in the present.

Dammit.

As much as I wanted to say something else, I stared back at her and wished that things could be different. That I could help pull her out of this depression.

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