Page 27 of Baby By my Best Friend's Daddy

A small smile played around her lips.

The coffee machine buzzed, letting us know the coffee was ready, and Rebecca turned to the counter, giving me her back. I took in her form—her dark hair hanging in waves over her shoulder, her perfect curves, and her delicious ass. God, I wanted to bite that ass like an apple.

Everything about her was intoxicating.

After she poured two cups of coffee—black, with no sugar or creamer because Kopi Luwak was perfect in itself—she came to the breakfast nook. She sat down next to me and pushed my cup toward me.

I took a sip and watched her over the rim of my cup.

Rebecca took her first sip, and she rolled her eyes shut.

“Oh my God,” she said. “Perfection.”

“Yeah,” I said. But I wasn’t talking about the coffee.

7

REBECCA

IsatwithLandonat the breakfast nook in his state-of-the-art kitchen, and I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was here because Brad had asked me to come, not because I had pursued Landon.

There was nothing wrong with that, was there?

Landon shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m just uncomfortable. I’m not in pain—you don’t have to look so worried.”

I shrugged. “Force of habit, it’s my job to take care of people.”

“I hope you don’t see me as a job,” Landon said.

I smiled at him. “No, you’re a favor for a friend.”

Landon laughed. “Wow. That sounds so much better.”

I giggled. “Let’s move somewhere more comfortable. The living room?”

“Do you want to watch a movie with me?” Landon asked.

I nodded.

“I have a television in my bedroom,” he said. “It’s more comfortable than on the couch, you know, with my foot…”

I couldn’t decipher the expression on his face. I hesitated, trying to tell myself all the reasons why going to Landon’s bedroom with him was a bad idea.

“Okay,” I said. The little voice in my head wasn’t convincing enough.

Landon hoisted himself up on his crutches, and I put our empty cups in the sink before I followed him back to his bedroom. He made sure the sliding door was shut properly this time before he looked over his shoulder and grinned at me.

“I leave this thing open way too often. I like the fresh air at night.”

“That doesn’t seem very safe for someone who’s into security,” I pointed out.

“The idea is that the perimeter is safe enough that the garden can be a sanctuary.” Landon frowned. “You know how they say a cobbler doesn’t have shoes, a dressmaker doesn’t have clothes… it’s like that.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked with a laugh.

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