Page 31 of Falling for the Nanny

“Let the kid get some quality time with her grandmother,” Cat murmured. “She already knows every step of her routine for the recital.”

“Let me decide what my kid should spend her time on and what she shouldn’t,” I countered under my breath. Cat may have been sick, but that didn’t mean she got a pass. Like I’d told her, I decided what was best for my daughter.

I knew my mom couldn’t have heard us, but she glanced back and forth between us with avid interest. When it came time to clean up, she sprung up before Cat could get all the way to her feet.

“No, no dear. You need to go back to bed. You might be feeling better, but you’re still weak.” She waved a hand imperiously at me. “David, make sure she gets back all right.”

“I will, but I’ll be back to make sure Lily’s getting her homework done,” I said, a warning in my voice that had no effect whatsoever on my mother. I’d be lucky if she wasn’t using the evenings without me to teach Lily how to play Blackjack or Five Card Draw.

Again, I saw the ghost of amusement on Cat’s face as we stepped out onto the deck.

“Don’t laugh, Cat,” I warned. “My mother isn’t funny.”

“I think she is.”

“You’re wrong.” We went down the stairs slowly. Cat’s limited energy slowed us down so that it took a few minutes to get the short distance back to the pool house. I unlocked the door myself and gestured for her to go in ahead of me.

I expected her to go straight into the bedroom and crawl into bed, but to my surprise, she stayed in the center of the room. She turned slowly to face me. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

I’d just pulled the door shut–the knob was still in my hand. A warning flashed through my mind. If I was going to get out of here without breaking the rules–now was the time.

“No problem,” I said expressionlessly. “You were an easy patient.” Unable to help myself, I stared back at her. Her hair had dried in rumpled waves. Her eyes didn’t look too big in her face anymore–they looked heavy-lidded and direct. She’d bitten some color into her lips, and even without a stitch of makeup, in shorts and a T-shirt, she was stunning.

“Will you wait here while I change?” she asked unexpectedly.

Surprised, I let go of the knob and nodded. Maybe she was feeling worse than I realized. There I was, eye-fucking her, reading into shit, and all she wanted was for someone to bring her her medicine and a glass of water in bed. After she went into her room to change, I went to the kitchenette and filled up a glass, then extracted two pills from the pack.

I was still feeling like a real asshole until I turned around and realized she hadn’t waited for me in her room. She was back in the center of the living room, her head tilted, her lower lip pulled between her teeth. But before I could ask why the hell she wasn’t in bed, something stopped me. Something that was a Mack truck of lust slamming into me, making my cock instantly hard as a rock.

Cat hadn’t changed into her pajamas.

She’d changed into that little black dress she’d worn the first night I kissed her.

The one that said that all bets were off.

CHAPTER 19

CAT

I’d been in the living room long enough to watch him fill the glass with water and wrestle with the impossibly difficult to open blister packs the cold medicine came in. It had mixed tenderness into my lust for him–a debilitating combination.

How could I have him without wanting all of him?

But then, how could I walk away from the chance to have what I could of him?

I never seriously considered darting back into the bedroom to throw my robe over the little black dress, but when he turned around, the chance was lost anyway. My heart sped up as his face changed. It morphed from careful neutrality to faint aggravation that I hadn’t waited in bed, and then to shock as my message registered.

David raked his eyes over my body, taking in every curve. He set the glass of water down on the counter and met my eyes. His were gleaming, but instead of walking over to me, he leaned back against the counter. He threaded his fingers together, like he needed something to do besides reach for me.

That was fine. I’d come this far…I might as well be the one to do the reaching. I walked closer, the tile cool on my bare feet, until I was standing right in front of him. I knew no one could see in because I’d made sure to close the curtains earlier, before I left.

There was nothing and no one to stop us.

Except him.

I put my hands on his chest, wondering if he would push me away or pull me closer. He did neither, and I took that as a good sign. If he was dead set on resisting me, he wouldn’t let me touch him like this. I ran my hands up to his broad shoulders, down the lengths of his tensed, muscular arms. My breath started to come faster, and I forgot that I was still walking the fine line between the best night of my life and the worst. I just wanted to keep touching him. I wanted to feel his hair between my fingers and put my lips against the throbbing pulse point in his throat.

Though I hadn’t had the cold medicine he’d gotten out for me, I felt drugged as I did the things I wanted. It wasn’t strange to be touching him like he was a statue, incapable of touching me back. It was…erotic. I felt how tightly wound every tendon and ligament and muscle in his body was, and I felt drunk with power. I was the one who had wound him this tightly. His lips were pressed together so tightly they were turning white because of how badly he wanted to kiss me.

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