Page 11 of Tempt

“That and I get silly when I drink.”

My head cocks. “Silly like funny? Are you a trivia machine, Daniel?”

His slow grin is self-deprecating. “Silly as in I’m not nearly as buttoned-up as I pride myself on being.”

The light falls across his face, and I want to trace my finger across the angles.

Now I’m thinking of that night again.

The buzz of alcohol in my veins.

The music and the dark.

The feel of his body close to mine, his woodsy scent.

“Thanks, but I’ll walk. I’m only a few blocks away.” I reach for the door.

“Kat, wait.” A hand finds my arm, and a shiver runs along my skin.

I turn back to meet his dark eyes and determined expression.

“I said I need help with Andy. I meant it.” He leans back over me to replace the keys.

“Like a babysitter?”

“More like a nanny. Someone who could live here.”

When he straightens, he’s closer than before. I’m staring at the exposed vee of skin above the second button on his shirt—which I’m noticing only because I always figured him as a buttoned-all-the-way guy. His dark eyes have flecks of gold in them I’ve never seen.

“Someone who would help mornings and afternoons and before bed,” he goes on, oblivious to the fact that I’m building a mental shrine to him right now. “Just until the end of the semester.”

He’s looking for a recommendation. Another student, maybe.

Focus, Kat.

“No one comes to mind, but I can ask around—”

“You,” he blurts. “I want you.”

4

DANIEL

Iwant you.

There’s no way I said that.

I’m deliberate, thoughtful, measured.

But now I’ve asked a student to be my nanny.

To move into my house.

A student I fed wine to and caught myself looking at far too intently.

“Me,” she echoes, blinking up at me with those bright, clever eyes. “I’m not a babysitter.”

“Nanny,” I correct, as if that’s what matters.

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