Page 2 of Filthy Rich Temptation
Boxers.
Her mouth parts in a soft, stunnedoh, and every exhausted cell in my body sits up and pays attention. A memory from seven years ago launches into the present. Those lips. My mouth. Her tongue. My?—
Double shit.
Clothes, next time. Clothes!
I make a break for the kitchen, needing to put a counter between her and my misbehaving body stat, when a tiny, pink trainer sails past my face. It smacks the wall with a soft thud and lands in my untouched fern like a sad little flag of surrender.
My youngest new roomie appears alongside her mother in a riot of blonde curls, her suspiciously sticky hands shooting into the air as she lets out a victorious squeal.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Sadie says, clambering to her feet and hefting a nappy sack the size of an unexploded bomb into view. ‘She’s still adjusting.’
Adjusting?I scan the mountain of chaos that’s been building over the last week and shake my head. Penthouse Daycare, anyone?
And I thought living with my ex Katie was bad – she had more serums than a pharmacy, took over my closet one hanger at a time, and turned every room into a freaking candle orgy – but I’d take her measured madness over this trainer-flinging, couch-jumping dictator any day of the week. Probably. Maybe.
‘I thought you said a few things,’ I croak, stepping over a rogue juice carton as I make it to the kitchen unscathed-ish. ‘This is a full-scale invasion.’
She blows her hair off her flushed face, and I pretend not to notice the way her bottom lip juts out – full, thoughtless, stupidly inviting – or how her oversized sweatshirt slips off one creamy-white shoulder.
‘You said we could stay for the summer,’ she blurts, yanking my eyes back to hers. ‘You didn’t say anything about a baggage limit.’
I open my mouth, then close it again as Lottie clambers over my nubuck leather sofa with a delighted shriek, those suspiciously sticky hands everywhere all at once.
‘But if it’s a problem, we can find somewhere else,’ she says, tossing the bomb aside so she can snatch a psychedelic backpack from Lottie’s fresh grasp just before the kid can hurl it at the wall-mounted TV. ‘ItoldTaylor this was too much.’
Taylor’s her big sister – well, half-sister. Same shit dad, different mum.
Taylor’s also my best friend. Though the best-friend status might be coming under question. I’m not sure what’s worse: the whirling dervish of a child or the very unwelcome and entirely prohibited desire I have for her mother.
‘Too much?’ I repeat, trying to focus while in the background, Lottie giggles and bounces on my furniture like she’s auditioning for the toddler Olympics. ‘Not at all.’
I didn’t think having them move in would turn me into a liar too.
‘Look, I know it’s not easy having us around,’ she says, lifting Lottie into her arms and coming closer, ‘especially when you’re used to…’ She waves a weak hand around.
Peace. Tranquillity. Bachelorhood. All of the above.
‘It’s fine.’
She stares at me like she doesn’t believe me. Hell,Idon’t believe me. But I’ve made my peace with the temporary situation. It’s bachelorhood out, toddler-geddon in. And I’m here for it. Honest.
It’s the least I can do for Taylor. The least I can do for Sadie too. After all the girl has endured at the hands of her no-good ex, she deserves a place to lie low and keep out of trouble. But who’s going to keep me out of trouble in return?
‘Is it safe to get coffee… or is today’s plan “death by flying rucksack”?’ I grin, making sure she knows I’m teasing.
She blinks, cheeks flaming, making the strip of freckles along the bridge of her nose stand out. Cute. And so not my thing. Meanwhile,mynosegrows another inch. Bloody Pinocchio.
‘Coffee! Yes! Absolutely!’ Suddenly, she’s far more focused on adjusting the toddler trying to climb her like a deranged koala than on looking at me. ‘Very safe. No more projectiles. I don’t think.’
‘Great.’
She passes me a mug from an overhead cupboard – the glossy black door now sporting more fingerprints than a crime scene – and nods towards the pot. ‘There’s some ready for you. Extra strong, just how you like it.’
She sets Lottie down on a stool and moves to get the cereal next, rolling onto her toes to reach the top shelf, that damn sweatshirt lifting with her. The tiniest pair of shorts come into view, hugging the globes of her arse like a second skin, and my palms burn.Fuck.
Then I feel a very different kind of burn. The kind that comes from a pair of big, blue eyes at waist height, judging me. My eyes flit to Lottie –yeah, yeah, I know.
