Page 18 of Temptation

She smiled, but then the blanket slipped, revealing more of her torso. I tried to keep my eyes on her face. Tried and failed. She rushed to grab it and cover herself. “Sorry. I, um, wasn’t expecting anyone.”

I chuckled. “I’ve seen you in far less.”

And I’d imagined her in absolutely nothing.

Her cheeks pinkened, and she dipped her head.Shit.She might be my son’s ex-girlfriend and the star of my fantasies, but she was now my employee. And I was making her uncomfortable.

I pressed my palms to the marble countertop, the cool, hard surface setting a clear boundary. Drawing a line that I should not—could not—cross.

Boss. Employee.

Older man. Younger Woman.

My son’s ex.

The fact that she’d dated my son was the biggest line I shouldn’t cross. Much as I might want her. Hadalwayswanted her.

And yet here we were. Completely alone. Sipping whiskey in my kitchen. Her in her sexy fucking pj’s.

I should’ve said goodnight. I should’ve let her go. But instead, I found myself trying to make her stay.

“Did you see the game live?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Tickets were crazy expensive. But Emmy and I watched it on TV.”

I made a mental note to get her tickets to the next Leatherbacks home game. And any other game she wanted to attend. Hell, I’d fly Kendall there personally on my private jet if it meant she’d smile again like she had earlier.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why?” She frowned.

“I didn’t realize Emerson was a big soccer fan.”

She laughed. “She’s not. Not really. But she can appreciate the athleticism that goes into it. And she’s a fan of parties and watching hot men run around the field.” Kendall held up her hand. “Her words, not mine.”

“Now that sounds more like the Emerson I remember. Most of the women my son hangs out with are more interested in the players than the game.”

She scoffed. “Right. Of course.”

“I’m sorry.” I held up my hands, wondering if it had been a mistake to mention Jude. But I’d been curious how she’d respond. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended. I’m also not surprised,” she said. She didn’t seem bitter, but I couldn’t get a read on her thoughts where Jude was concerned.

“Trust me. I don’t include you in that group,” I said. “You were always…different.”

She arched one eyebrow but didn’t push me on it. “Since you’re here, does that mean you plan to move in sooner? If so, I’ll need to let the Hartwell Agency know so they can start looking for another placement for me.”

“No,” I said quickly, too quickly. “No need for that. I assume it will still be a while before the house is completely finished.”

The only reason I wasn’t staying at the presidential suite tonight was because it had been reserved—for the actual president. Of the United States. Graham had offered me another room at the Huxley Grand, but I hadn’t wanted to deal with all the extra security precautions. Especially not after just flying back from the SuperDraft.

“Oh. Okay.”

Was she disappointed? Surprised? I wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

And I found myself saying, “It would be nice to have you here. Living in my house.” I shouldn’t like the sound of that so much.

“Right. Of course. Well, that’s why I’m here.” She straightened. Brightened. “You have a beautiful home.”

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