Page 54 of Under Daddy's Spell

Seth was on his heels. “Can you catch a flight in the morning?”

He shook his head. “We’ve got advance pregame shit I can’t bail on. It’s week one, and the Panthers are preseason favorites this year.”

“Charlotte isn’t all that far. Come back after the game,” Seth suggested.

“There isn’t time. My flight to Tallahassee is at nine tomorrow night. I can’t skip out on the opening of the new location, either. I’ve got live media spots scheduled and VIPs coming in.”

The timing on this was terrible.

“Adding a full plate of broadcasting to gym expansion and your charity gigs”—Seth lowered his voice before he went on—“where are you going to find time to squeeze in being a daddy?”

“I didn’t expect to be one when I renewed my contract for three years. Dammit. How pissed off did she look?”

“I’d say shocked and hurt more so than pissed.”

“After last night, it’s no wonder,” he muttered.

“What happened last night?”

“Let’s say I made my intentions clear.”

“And the next morning, she hears something that makes her think you were playing her.” He whistled. “This isn’t good, Coop. You’d better do something quick. If you wait until Wednesday, she’ll have time to plan your castration.”

Like he didn’t know that already.

Running because the clock hadn’t stopped ticking, he got in his Audi and started it up. There was no time, but he called Tessa before pulling out. When it went straight to voice mail, he hit the wheel with the heel of his hand.

“Baby. Seth told me what happened. We need to talk. Unfortunately, I’ve got back-to-back meetings and appointments all day. I’ll try you again tonight, before bedtime.”

He left it at that but, when he disconnected, he stared down at his phone in frustration. He’d been looking for someone like Tessa forever. She was perfect for him, a combination of sweet but sexy, naughty but nice, and lost. She needed a daddy to step in and take care of her as much as he needed a grown-up little girl to take care of.

Dropping his phone onto the passenger seat, he peeled out, and after a few turns, hit the I-10 westbound, doing twenty over the legal limit. After the morning he had, a ticket was the last thing he needed, but he’d have to risk it.

When he returned on Wednesday, he had to hope her misconceptions of who he was hadn’t hardened in her head and her heart, like concrete.

***

IT WAS LATE. SHE HADto be up in five hours, yet she was scrolling through hundreds of pictures of Rebecca Harlowe. The B-list actress was a willowy brunette who looked like she’d been born to wear red lipstick.

Tessa had tried every shade from cherry to garnet, including some with pink, orange, and even blue undertones. With her fair skin and red hair, she always seemed to resemble Bozo the Clown. She had to stick to pinks and nudes, steer clear of corals, and could occasionally pull off a plum, depending on her outfit. But it would never be a slinky sheath-dress Rebecca Harlowe, the human hanger, wore so effortlessly.

She stopped scrolling when she came to a picture of the thirty-year-old beauty on Jordan’s arm. They were at a New York City movie premiere, posing for photographers as they walked the red carpet. She kept scrolling through several more shots. The cameras had captured candid moments, too, with them laughing, him bending to hear what she was saying, and, in general, looking stunning together.

With a sigh, she scrolled on, but it didn’t get any easier or lessen the ache in her chest. More photos at other events followed, of them holding hands as they emerged from a restaurant, walking arm in arm down a crowded city street, or with her plastered against his back, her hair streaming out the bottom of a helmet, as they rode off together on a motorcycle.

When she noticed the dates were over three years ago, Tessa searched further. It only took a few clicks to find the viral video Owen had mentioned. Locating Rebecca’s bathing suit top, although she zoomed in and squinted to see straps or something other than bare, wet skin through the steam and bubbling water, was a different story.

She resumed searching and found it wasn’t the only time the thirty-second candid short had made the rounds on social media.

Why would she repost an old video now? Were they back together? Or did Jordan have a stalker? Again, it posed the question of why a gym owner, no matter how hot, would have a movie star stalker.

Okay, maybe not a “star,” since Rebecca hadn’t had a leading role in anything other than a slasher movie in a while and her IMDb filmography listed mostly guest appearances lately.

The screen changed with an incoming call from Jordan.

Tessa hesitated. She’d listened to his voicemail earlier. It didn’t confirm or deny anything; it merely stated they needed to talk.

Should she answer and let him explain? Would she believe what he said? Did she even want to?

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