Page 3 of Filthy Rich Temptation
‘Coffee,’ I mutter, hurling myself at the machine and pouring a mugful. ‘You want a top up?’
‘No, I’m good, ta.’
I turn and lean back against the counter, take a grateful sip. Focus on the rich aroma, the satisfying taste… andnotthe way Sadie’s lips press together as her eyes linger on my chest instead of the cereal she’s supposed to be pouring.
Tiny wheat hoops make a break for it, scattering across the marble countertop much to Lottie’s high-pitched delight.
‘Messy mummy!’ she giggles, scoffing up the strays within reach.
And I give a soft laugh with her, because truth is, I’m getting a kick out of this mess too. Until I remember all the reasons why I shouldn’t.
She’s Taylor’s little sister. A woman who’s been through hell and back courtesy of a man. A woman who’sstillgoing through hell because of him.
She needs stability and security. Not me, bloody well objectifying her.
One week. Has it really only been a week?
Because if the chaos doesn’t kill me, the temptation sure as hell might.
* * *
Sadie
I need to get a grip.
Like, immediately.
Because one more look at Theo Tanner – dark-blond hair a mess, semi-naked body a full-on study in temptation, coffee mug dwarfed by one big hand and those specs giving him a serious andoh-sosexy edge – and I’m going to do something monumentally stupid.
Something I swore I would never, ever do again.
Something that breaks the ultimate houseguest rule, and sets the worst possible example for Lottie.
But then…
I’ve been setting bad examples since the day she was born. Making bad decisions long before then too. It’s my forte. Why change now?
I shove some bread in the toaster – anything to keep my eyes off him – and take a breath. Remind myself that I’mtryingto be better. That Iwantto be better.
For Lottie, as much as for myself.
‘Uncle Feo want some?’
From the corner of my eye, I spy her offer out a sticky palm full of cereal hoops and I wait for him to politely decline. This is Theo, after all. Billionaire bachelor Theo. He may have grown up above the corner chippy, feasting off scraps, but these days, he’s all about the cold-pressed juice and the caviar. I’m exaggerating, of course… I think.
Instead, he steps forward, his heady scent drifting towards me as he selects one hoop. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’
He pops it in his mouth and mine hangs open, his exaggerated chew-turned-hum reverberating through my over-sensitised body. Did he just… is he just…?
‘Mmm, that’s good.’
I think my ovaries just imploded.
Watching the man drink his coffee half-naked is hard enough. Watching him humour my daughter and share her cereal like it’s the best part of his morning… It’s not just my libido waking up, it’s my heart too.
He flicks me a conspiratorial wink before going back in for another and I’m just as spellbound as Lottie.
I swear he doesn’t even notice the way he looks, which only makes it worse.
