Page 44 of Reckless Desire

“No, no. Caro’s mother died last year.” I look toward the door to make sure Caro can’t hear us. It’s ridiculous, but part of me wants to shield her from that brutal reality even though she has to live it every day.

“I’m so sorry. And a bit relieved…” Sydney slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. “That came out really wrong. It’s just when you refused to visit her mom earlier due to rain, I thought you were being a real asshole.”

I chuckle. “Fair enough. Though I try to limit our visits to the cemetery. It’s a weird balance, but Caro’s therapist suggested she needs to decrease her frequent visits in order to move on with her life, not remain stuck mourning her mother. Last year we were at the cemetery three to four times a week.”

Sydney walks around the little desk toward me, but stops, her eyes bouncing around like she’s trying to decide what to say next.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” I blurt.

She snorts. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding the school?”

Suddenly, the room feels smaller. The air zaps with sensual energy. I become hyper-aware of my breathing, of Sydney’s shallow pants, of the singing somewhere down the hall and the silence between us.

She holds my gaze, challenging me.

“Yes,” I admit, the short word coming out like a gurgle.

She whips her hand to her face, her fist closed, her ring finger outstretched. It kind of looks like she is flipping me off with the wrong finger and I’d deserve the gesture. The lack of the ring pleases me way more than it should.

I step closer to her. I want to tell her I’m glad she’s not engaged, but I don’t want to sound like an asshole. Even if she said no to the principal, they might still be together. And they must have been together when she didn’t try to stop the almost-kiss in my kitchen. Thank God Caro interrupted us that morning.

Suddenly we’re too close, our bodies mere inches from each other. Sydney’s scent of a citrussy rainforest reaches my nose and spreads through me like a potent drug. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

My eyes fall down to her luscious lips. She swallows hard with a shudder. Her eyes flicker with desire. It’s as strong as mine, I’m sure of it. The moment is so charged that I might explode with frustration if I don’t follow through.

I want to kiss this woman so badly, I stop thinking about where we are, who we are and all the potential complications.

“I’m sorry you lost your wife,” Sydney whispers and I jerk out of my state. What?

“My wife?” I blink a few times.

“Caro’s mother.” She frowns, probably assessing my mental faculties.

“Caro isn’t my daughter.”

Every time I’ve admitted that to a woman—there haven’t been that many—they are pleased. Like it’s a burden lifted. Mind you, I haven’t seen many women in that sense since I adopted Caro, but Sydney’s reaction is totally different. One of horror. She’s shocked.

“She’s my sister’s daughter. She started calling me Dad after Julia died and frankly I’m her dad in every senses of the word. Her biological father bolted before she was born.”

Sydney steps back like my words hit her physically. She puts both hands over her mouth. It’s a sad story, but her reaction seems extreme. Or she really is emotional and loves Caro already enough to care this much.

“Can we go now?” Caro says as she comes back in the door.

“I’m coming, sweetheart.” I call after her and turn back to Sydney. “I’m sorry this is so distressing to you.”

She gasps with horror. “You have never been married?”

ChapterFifteen

Sydney

“Why would someone propose in a classroom after school? That is the world’s worst proposal.” Lo takes a sip of her champagne. “Stupid for a headmaster, isn’t he?”

I close my eyes so the esthetician—a stunning, model-like blond—can lower slices of cucumbers to my lids. It’s Saturday and my funk over the past two weeks convinced me to accept Paris’s invitation for a day of pampering.

Not that I can afford The Ritz-Carlton spa, but I desperately need to relax and London badgered me into letting her pay. She joined us because she’s pissed about something in her life, which is more or less her usual attitude.

“I really believe he was hoping for a logical, adult conversation to confirm what we both planned, but never discussed.”

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