Twice Tempted (Bad Boys Erotic Tales)

by Arden, Susan

  “A-ha! There you are, missy. It’s your turn to put away your shoes, Miss Cainwright.”

  Cainwright. The sound of the name hit him like a kick in the gut. Isabella Graham, he silently corrected. From his shoulders down, his muscles contracted into knots. He watched them go into the bathroom, and he overheard Cynthia as she helped the giggling Isabella brush her teeth.

  “Like I explained, we always read a book before bed,” Cynthia said when they finally came out.

  He relaxed his shoulders. “May I read one tonight?”

  She whispered, grinning up at him. “Sure. You can even pick the story, if your daughter lets you.”

  He fingered several books before selecting a red one. He displayed it for Isabella to see. “This one okay?”

  “Clifford! Please,” she exclaimed, as if it was her favorite of all time.

  The covers were turned down, and they sat on the bed with Isabella between them. By the time the book was over, Isabella yawned, snuggling into her mother’s arms. Cynthia recited a child’s version of a prayer that included blessing for Mommy, Daddy, and Isabella. His chest tightened. He watched as Cynthia kissed their child, and then it was his turn.

  Isabella raised her slender arms. “Nighty-night, Rob,” she said.

  He kissed her forehead and squeezed her in a hug. This wasn’t possible, he thought. No way would he continue this lifestyle of traveling for months at a time. He’d missed the first four years—he’d not miss any others.

  “Sweet dreams,” Rob and Cynthia said in unison.

  He waited at the doorway while Cynthia turned out the light but left a nightlight shining.

  Cynthia led the way back to the kitchen, and she took out two mugs. It was impossible not to stare at her. Since he’d kissed her, all he could think about was climbing into the bed and making her writhe beneath him. The way she laughed and said his name had him running on empty in self-control. A hunger swam in his bloodstream, boiling—demanding that he kiss her, possess her, and make her shudder in pleasure.

  He longed to hear her scream his name again and again as he plunged deep inside her. Cynthia was his, and it was only a matter of time before she and Isabella would change their names and their residence.

  He forced himself to turn around and look at his surroundings instead of at her. Her house wasn’t anything like the condo he’d visited. It was childproof and child centered, and it was comfortable.

  “Do you take cream or sugar?”

  “Black, thanks,” he exhaled. This was a new beginning. They didn’t even know how each other took their coffee. He noted that she poured milk in hers, forgoing sugar. It was a start.

  “Here you go,” she said.

  Their fingers touched and he wanted to feel more of her. Her face turned a shade of pink. Every one of Cynthia’s curves drew his attention. They’d shared an intense physical attraction once, and as far as he was concerned, love tasted sweeter the second time around. Exponentially sweeter based upon the kiss they’d shared earlier. His power button to desire was irreparably turned on standing next to this woman.

  “Does your father know?” Rob asked sipping his coffee.

  “I talked with him after we met the other day. It was the first time since I quit working for him. He didn’t take my decision to leave at all well. When my mother died, our relationship became strained. But when we spoke, he was genuinely pleased to learn of Isabella. He said he wasn’t surprised you were her father, only that you weren’t involved.”

  He did a double-take but didn’t comment. He stood against the counter, coolly contemplating her before speaking. “Why did you call him after we met?” he asked, taking a long sip of his coffee. “You hadn’t talked with him for years, so why now?”

  “Well, I just thought it was time and—.” Cynthia stopped, and stared up at him.

  “What?” He watched her closely. “What happened?”

  From her rapid-blinking expression, he discerned nervousness. Whatever she had to share, it wasn’t going to be easy. He studied the way she wrapped her hands around the mug and licked her lips. Her uneasy, abrupt pause signaled that she required a few moments to form her words. Considering Randall Cainwright, he could only imagine the conversation.

  “I was worried. Extremely worried. I thought you would…that you wanted to take Isabella away from me. At that moment, I think I overreacted when I called my father and said you were prepared to hire an attorney and fight for custody.” She rubbed her forehead, glancing down into her cup.

  Rob was floored. “Your father’s a man who wields a ton of power. His wealth and his pull are substantial. Yet, it was he that you turned to when you worried. The man who cast you out. Even after I explained and said I only want to help you and our child.” He clenched his jaw, waiting to hear her response.

  “Yes. I know that now. But after we spoke the first time, I didn’t know who else to call. It’s been hard. My mom’s sister, Sonya, and my cousins are the only people who have helped me.”

  He put his cup down, leaned against the counter, and folded his arms over his chest. His brows knitted together, and he couldn’t help drawing his lips tight. “I still haven’t heard why you called him. Cynthia, we’re both trying for a clean start. Just tell me.”

  “I asked for his help.” She rushed through the words and waited for his reaction.

  He shook his head. “What kind of help?”

  Her confident demeanor faltered. As their gazes caught and held, a visible shudder seemed to run through her. “I asked that he help me secure an attorney because you were back in the picture.” Her words rushed out filling the space between them.

  He uncrossed his arms and stiffened, as though she’d struck him. He didn’t have time or presence of mind to keep his emotions in check. He could feel his face tighten.

  Cynthia may have noticed the betrayal storming within him, or perhaps she had a bout of sudden guilt. Either way, she set her cup down, and gripped the counter, quickly adding, “But that was before tonight. Don’t worry, Rob. I’ll fill him in.”

  “Jesus Christ! You unleashed your father on me. I can only imagine what he’ll do. Hell, I’d be damned upset if Isabella grew up and some idiot left her alone with a baby. Truthfully, I’d be less than forgiving. Heck, I’d hunt the man down, in fact. I wouldn’t expect any less from your father. You’re still his daughter, estranged or not.”

  “My father isn’t that protective.”

  “Then why’d you call him? You’re father’s got a reputation in the business world. Well-known for getting back at those who cross a line.”

  His heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. He walked back to the bookshelf, tunneling his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t explain the rage or helpless that consumed him in hearing she now had her own attorney. More than likely, a whole downtown law firm that specialized in severing unwanted parental rights.

  “He doesn’t care.”

  “I think you’re wrong. Most men can be vindictive when it comes to a daughter. What exactly do you think your father will do now? Welcome me with open arms? Yeah. I can only imagine the team of attorneys he’ll retain. Just like the time when you left. Do you honestly believe he’ll be less malicious with the man who supposedly ran out on you?”

  “I said I wouldn’t go forward with an attorney. I see no need now. I only did what I felt was right when you said you would get one, and I responded in kind. Please don’t blame me for not taking you at your word. My thoughts and concern are for Isabella.”

  “For Isabella. Don’t you also mean the granddaughter of Randall Cainwright? I don’t think you understand a man like your father. This isn’t merely between you and me. I can guarantee he’ll take this as a personal affront. Tell me, did he offer to help you immediately or did you have to beg him?”

  The slight widening of her eyes was answer enough. “I didn’t have to beg,” she said softly.

  “Exactly.” He strode back to the counter, careful to keep his voice do
wn. He scrunched the words out “I’ve seen the behind the-scenes of World Travel. Vindictive doesn’t cover his ability to teach a lesson. You yourself said what a tyrant he was with your mother. Don’t play as though this is a minor concern. I thought we were trying to build trust.”

  “We are. But, you can’t pretend we don’t know much of one another.”

  “I believe that’s what we were doing. Maybe it’s good we find out where we stand and who we have in our respective corners. Yours, I must say, is getting larger by the moment. Anyone else I should know about? You aren’t planning to leave the country, are you? Perhaps a short hop-skip-jump to one of your father’s resorts halfway around the globe?”

  “Don’t do that, Rob. What do we know of each other beyond our one evening together? Our foundation isn’t just shaky. It’s downright nonexistent.” Her eyes and tone blazed.

  From the set of her jaw, he could tell that she had no intention of losing that argument or backing down anytime soon. He grabbed his keys off the counter, squeezing the metal between his fingers. “Cynthia, so as long as everything goes your way, you won’t go forward. Is that what you mean? Should I venture to ask if you’ve prepared a list of how you’d like me to perform my fatherly duties?” He bitterly laughed. “I can already see that the second I don’t do exactly as you wish, Team Cynthia will be ready to haul me straight into court.”

  “May I remind you again who first mentioned attorneys and legal rights? It certainly wasn’t me, Rob, when you barged in on us at the kiddie pool that day. Why am I being punished for being honest with you now?”

  “Truth and honesty aren’t the same. We both know that, don’t we? Sweetheart, don’t cloud issues with manipulation. I’m more than aware you’re very clever. Do yourself a favor and don’t take me for being stupid. I suppose I’d better leave now, before I say something I know I’ll regret.” He began to walk out of the kitchen toward the front door, but then stopped short. “Tell your father to have his attorney get in contact with me. Well, it looks like you have changed after all. Christ, you really aren’t the same person I once knew. Or maybe I never knew you at all. You’ll do anything to win. But, then, that is the Cainwright way, isn’t it?”

  He opened the front door swiftly, pivoting around. She must have thought he’d just continue walking, and they nearly collided. They stood close enough for him to see her lashes flutter in confusion. Before him she resumed her defiantly lifted chin. “Well?” she asked impertinently, unwilling to back down.

  God, it took everything in him to control his desire to push her back against the wall and peel away the anger they both had going on.

  Except, he reminded himself, she played a wicked game that included all was fair in love and war, especially when it came to winning. No, he’d better learn fast. She might be hot enough to kiss, but she was also vicious enough to walk all over his heart in order to get her way.

  “Be prepared. The first thing I’m going to do is to make certain my child has my last name.” He had to leave, to get away from her before it was too late. She didn’t need to know how much he craved the taste of her skin. One more second, and he would have to take her into his arms, to crush her words and mouth until all she could do was moan his name. Fuck, the only way they communicated without resorting to insults required mouth-to-mouth, hip-to-hip contact.

  * * *

  Rob was better than his word, because the very next day, an attorney called to ask Cynthia if she would be available for a court hearing. He also requested the name of her attorney so he could send proper notice and court paperwork. Rob was seeking joint custody, and he’d hired a lawyer who was well known in procuring the rights of fathers. A high-powered man who didn’t seem to mind billable hours one bit.

  She sighed after giving him her email address. Sitting at her desk she reviewed the documents, which included discovery—a set of questions that asked if she had a live-in boyfriend and demanded to know the extent to which her daughter was exposed to her male friends. The questions almost implied that she was some sort of tramp. Rob was not playing nice, or at least his attorney wasn’t above hitting below the belt. She sat there stunned, too shocked to contemplate how to handle such an ordeal.

  She’d been honest, and it had gotten her nowhere. Ironically enough, if she had lied, he never would have known she’d considered hiring an attorney and engaging in some version of pained civility as Rob and she negotiated custody.

  Painful as it was, better to have found out he had only been willing to listen to a story that was nicely formatted. No conflicts or bumps, but some sort of cartoon variation of parenting. If he’d wanted to paint her as being manipulative and vindictive, she couldn’t see how she’d prove him wrong. Other than time would tell. But that might take years.

  Confusion, frustration and hurt descended like a lead weight in her belly. Now, her anger began to burn, and her whole body heated. Crap, if he wanted a fight, she was damned well willing to give him one. She might not know much, but she did know that a man who was a drinker and had to “give it up” had issues. Her father knew plenty of people, including private investigators.

  Her temples pounded and she gazed across the room toward the bookcase with Isabella’s nursery school pictures. She flinched.

  Where was she going with this line of thinking? Did she really want to drag her daughter’s father through the mud? In doing so, she’d destroy any possibility of them being a loving family.

  She held in her hands the ability to have family dinners, go on outings, and spend holidays and Isabella’s birthdays together. Bedtime stories and nightly prayers. So many, many moments. All those potential cherished memories were within her grasp to create. Or she could act out of vengeance, just as Rob said she would. Like her father. She held her child’s future—their future—and with one move, one way or the other, she could destroy those possibilities. Or heal the wound. She didn’t need to remind herself, most of those wounds had been caused by her own hand.

  With trembling fingers, she punched the number into the phone; she knew it by heart.

  “Hola?”

  “Tia, I need your help.”

  “Que pasa, mija?”

  “I’ve got man problems.”

  “Didn’t it go well? Men. What did he say?”

  “I told him I went to my father.”

  “Ay, Cynthia! The mention of your father would make a bull charge.”

  “That’s not the worst. I think I’m falling for him, again. I don’t want to lose him.”

  “You’re sure? So soon? Mija, if it’s about catching him, you’d better talk to women with fresh experience. I’ve not tried to cast a net in decades. You should talk to Carolina for a second. Alina’s baby is here and needs to be changed. Should we come and get you?”

  “No, not unless you think you need to change me too,” Cynthia said with a halfhearted laugh.

  “You silly girl. Here is your cousin. Never fear. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  “Hey, what’s up?” Carolina asked.

  “Caro, I’ve messed up. Badly. Uhh, remember the guy I told you about—”

  “Rob ‘the Jackass’ Graham. Umm, beyond the fact he’s the only one you’ve ever talked about. Still gorgeous and a hunk? Photographer. Curled your toes tight. No, not much. Fill me in.”

  “Well, he came over to spend the evening with Isabella. He was perfect with her, and she loves him. I almost told her that he’s her father.”

  “So? What’s the problem then?”

  “I don’t want lose him. I’m falling for him again, Caro, but he thinks my father is going to string him up.”

  “We’ll need reinforcements. Hold on.” Her cousin spoke loudly beyond the receiver. “Olga! Isabella’s father is back in the picture. We need a game plan.”

  Carolina had yelled the information, and from what Cynthia could overhear from her end of the phone, a female uproar was now in full swing. She rolled her eyes, wondering if it would help. Her crazy cousins c
ould very well form a lynch mob and go after Rob in some estrogen-charged frenzy, trying to make him see the light and the error of his mannish ways.

  After she talked for an hour and a half with her aunt and cousins, a plan was devised. Carolina was on her way over with Olga, an official miracle worker, and clothing. They were prepared to glam her up. Cynthia would contact Rob to lure him to meet with her once she was dressed to the nines, though she feared what his reaction would be to her when he saw her in all of her made-over glory.

  Cynthia inhaled, opting to text him rather than to call him and get shut down. She almost dropped the phone when he texted her right back and agreed to meet.

  “Where?” she sent back.

  He texted the address to her, and she stared at her phone before sending back affirmation that she’d be there at the appointed time.

  * * *

  After hours of what felt like her hair being pulled out of her scalp and a pound of makeup, she gazed at herself in the mirror. “Holy Moses! I look like a…woman of the night.”

  Olga snapped, “No, you don’t. You look sexy. Shoot, Cynthia, you dress like you’re going to church most of the time. Let a little flesh see the light of day, would ya?”

  “Ugh…isn’t this a little revealing? Everyone can see from my chest down to my navel if I move suddenly.” She took a deep breath, and her breasts pushed up and nearly over the edge of her dress. When her cousins weren’t looking, Cynthia pulled the neckline up to a decent point.

  Carolina stood with her hands on her hips. “Go. Isabella is will be fine. And don’t you dare rush back. For once, go have a crazy night. So crazy you can’t sit down for days.”

  “Shush.” Cynthia’s face blazed. They all laughed. No matter what she felt, hearing her cousins say it was okay to cut loose gave her all the permission she needed. They were the kind of women who trampled men with their stilettos and didn’t have a qualm about it. Except Carolina—she stomped in boots.

  “Sam, just do what you feel. Don’t give into your fear of tomorrow. Live in this moment. Hell, the rest of us do,” Carolina said.