A part of him that was male and ripe nodded at her appearance. Smalls ripples of awareness coursed through him, slowly but surely reminding him his body still recognized a beautiful woman—even if he preferred not to. At least, not this woman.
“Hi. How’s it going?” she asked.
“Well. Please come in,” he said, gesturing for her to enter his home.
She did as told, and he followed her. His gaze strayed to the sensual sway of her hips. Images of him slamming her against the wall and kissing her neck, nipping her ear or cupping her ass invaded his mind.
A powerful stir traveled through him, continuing to awaken parts of him that should be dormant—at least when it came to his daughter’s tutor. He squared his shoulders and stretched to his full height.
He took her to the living area. “Marcelle,” he said. “Come on.”
He skimmed around the area, gesturing for Violet to stay put. Sighing, he made quick work of checking his home office, the guest rooms and kitchen. No sign of his daughter, anywhere. Of course she’d hide somewhere.
He returned to the living area, and looked up at the stairs. “Marcelle, if you don’t come down in five seconds, you’ll lose iPad privileges for a month,” he said in a voice that left no doubt.
Within three seconds, Marcelle came down the stairs, frowning. God, what would the teenage years be like? He needed to get her under control. “Fine,” she said under her breath.
“Meet… I’m sorry, how would you like to be addressed? Mrs…?”
“Miss Violet will do,” she said.
Single. The realization shot a rush of adrenaline through his system.
“I’ll leave you two to it.” He showed her the formal dining area. He’d played with the idea of giving them more privacy, but he’d be better off knowing his daughter would be more likely to pretend to care if she were in full view.
Watching them certainly had nothing to do with the blonde, petite woman in his view. Nothing at all.