Page 25 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

Maybe I’m just a weak, horny, shameless man, but I can’t help but steal glances at Audrey as she blots the water from her front. She gathers her hair on top of her head and turns her back to me, squeezing the fabric of her clothes to get some of the moisture out.

There’s nothing sexy about the way she’s moving. She’s not trying to seduce me. She’s not paying me any attention at all…but every movement winds me tight and tighter. I wash quickly and shut the hose off, then grab one of the cloths from the ground and wipe myself down.

My head is a mess. I’m breathing more heavily than I should be, trying not to think too closely about the curve of Audrey’s butt in her leggings or the way the wet fabric of her bra lets me see the outline of her nipples so clearly. In my haste to get away from her—away from this situation—I end up rushing through the narrow doorway at the same time as her. My shoulder bumps hers, and we both turn to face each other at the same time.

Her face is level with my chest. “Sorry. You go,” she says, cheeks pink.

The whole weekend, I’ve told myself that whatever attraction I feel for this woman is a flash in the pan. I’ve reminded myself over and over again about not wanting to get involved with anyone beyond a casual night or two. I’ve looked at my nephew—my kid—and reminded myself that he’s my top priority, always.

All these thoughts have been mainstays of my last three years. I’ve lived my life in order to do what’s best for Danny, in order to serve my sister’s memory.

But three years of priorities and thoughts and reminders evaporate the moment I feel Audrey’s soft body pressed up against my chest. She tries to take a step away, but my arm snakes around her back without my conscious permission.

Her hands land on my stomach, and they’re like two brands, reminding me of everything I want. Everything I could have if I just gave in to temptation.

And why shouldn’t I?

Here’s a beautiful, successful, intelligent woman who blushes prettily when she’s pressed up against me. I’m not hurting my nephew by indulging in this moment. I can have a bit of casual fun—get these urges out of my system—and then go back to my regular life. Right? It wouldn’t be any different from Anna or any of the other women I’ve tangled with.

My hand tightens across her back. “Audrey,” I say, voice rough.

But it would be different with her. It would be good. She’d whisper my name with her siren voice, and I’d fall to my knees on instinct.

She blinks at me, tongue darting out to lick her lips. “Uh-huh?”

I’m not sure what I want to ask her. There are too many thoughts swirling in my head. Do you want to give in to temptation with me? Do you want to explore the heat that’s flared between us since the moment we met? Do you want to feel my lips on your body as badly as I do?

She gulps, those wide, green eyes dropping to my lips. Her breaths are jagged, every inhalation pressing the cold, wet sports bra against my skin. I want her so badly I could scream. I dip my head—

And my phone rings.

Audrey jerks back. “I should go clean the office,” she says, then darts away.

I swear violently, then fish my phone out of my pocket. There’s a brand-new crack splintering across the screen. Wonderful. That probably happened when I fell face-first into a puddle of strawberry milkshake because I couldn’t handle the sight of two inches of cleavage.

“What,” I bark into the phone.

“Mr. Campbell? This is Miranda from the Heart’s Cove Outdoor Day Camp calling.”

I straighten, vision suddenly sharp. “Is everything okay?”

“Danny’s developed a bit of a stomach bug. He’s thrown up once already, so he’s with our lead counselor right now. Are you able—”

“I’m on my way.”

“Great, we’ll see you soon.”

I hang up the phone and stuff it into the front pocket of my coveralls. No time to change into street clothes. I jog across the garage, then make a hard left turn toward the office. Audrey is on her hands and knees, mopping up the mess I made.

“Danny’s sick,” I tell her. “I have to pick him up.”

She glances over her shoulder, nodding. “Go. I’ll handle things here.”

Hesitating for a moment, I meet her gaze. Then I make a snap decision. I fish the keys out of my pocket. “If you need to leave, lock up before you go.”

She catches the keys in midair and gives me a nod. “No problem.”

Guilt twinges in my heart as I leave her with the mess I created, but my kid is sick. Heart thumping, I hop in my truck and head for the community center, where the day camp is headquartered. When I get there, Danny is pale and listless. The lead counselor tells me it’s probably just a stomach bug, but I should give him as many fluids as I can and monitor him over the next few hours. “If he keeps throwing up, take him to the emergency room. Dehydration can be dangerous.”

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