He goes from hungry to visibly upset before he can hide it. He closes his eyes for a moment as if a thought just hit him hard, then says, “Did you—?”
I cut him off. “Does the invitation to accompany you to the event tomorrow still stand?”
“Absolutely.” He nods.
All I want to do is get out of here before she emerges and my courage dissolves.
“What time will you be picking me up then?” I sound like a freaking robot.
A smile hints at the corners of his mouth. “Six o’clock.” Then he adds, “Would you like to come in for a drink?”
My breath hitches in my lungs and catches in my throat. “Um …”
“It’s no fun being alone after a party.” He opens the door all the way, turns and walks back into the room, leaving me at the threshold.
I take a cautious step forward.
“Close the door behind you,” he says without looking back as he saunters to the bar.
I press my back against the door and lean on it as it latches closed.
Good God, I should leave, go right back to my room, because this … thing … right here and now … has nothing to do with business or casual … ness, or anything but pure want.
Josh walks back—still in the towel, mind you—and hands me a drink. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ve seen me in less.”
A small sound escapes my throat. Hoping he didn’t notice, I quickly tip back my head and consume almost half the drink.
“What did you do tonight?” He sits and makes a triangle with his legs by resting one ankle against his knee. He sips at a glass of ice water.
He’s baiting me! As soon as I realize it, my awkwardness evaporates. Two can play at this game.
I stride across the floor and perch on the edge of his tightly made bed. “I got in a little sightseeing.”
“Hmm.” He nods. He seems to be momentarily flustered by the sight of me on his bed, but he regains composure fast. “What made you retire so early?”
“Just because I have Mary Poppins with me doesn’t mean my job as mom is trumped. I’m getting up early to spend the day with Charlie.” I lean back a bit and cross my legs, swinging at the knee.
“How about a tag-along?” he asks.
“A what?” I’m confused.
“I get finished up with promos around noon. Let me take you and Charlie to the aquarium,” he suggests.
“Aquarium.” I’m in a daze.
“It’s one of the best in the country.”
“Really?” Here I am trying to play some sexy game of sharks and minnows and trying to be the shark, when he up and asks me and Charlie to spend the day with him? “Why?” The thought in my mind just slips out of my mouth.
“Because it would be fun,” he answers matter-of-factly.
“Fun.” My leg stops swinging and I sit up. Both feet are firmly on the floor. He’s adding Charlie to the mix. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“Charlie’s an extension of you. She’s what makes you who you are. Why wouldn’t I want to hang out with the two of you?” And again, stone cold fighter Josh North is tender.
I think of how he played with Charlie on the plane, and how she wanted to hold his hand.
He can’t possibly imagine what I’m going through right now. The overwhelming desire to jump, to say yes, to give it all to him and let the cards fall. But how can I subject Charlie to that kind of heartbreak? If … when he turns out to be an asshole, she’ll be the one who hurts the most. Single mothers have hard choices.
I could lie to myself, trick myself into believing we’d just be going as colleagues and that Charlie could get just as emotionally injured by a nanny she grows attached to and has to leave as she could be by a man. I take a cleansing breath and stuff down the potential dad screaming violently against my brain. It’s not how I want to think.
Then a realization spreads through me like sweet, warm caramel. He invited me in to show me he was alone in here.
I stand up and head to the door before I change my mind. “Tomorrow at noon, then,” I say as I leave.
Before I close the door behind me, I watch the smile that comes over his handsome face. It’s enough to bring me to my knees in surrender.
Chapter Nine
Josh
This photo shoot is not ending fast enough.
“Come on, Josh. Where is that sinful, sexy grin every woman’s panties drop for?” Darla, my photographer for the past decade, is trying to find me somewhere in the mess that I’ve become.
What the fuck? This should be fun. I have two models in little blue bikinis on the floor, each wrapped around one of my legs.
Oh shit! It hits me that I’m glad Sophie’s not here to see this. Or Charlie!
“Oh God, I’m in trouble.”
“What, Josh?” one of the models says, looking up at me with wanting eyes.
“What time is it, Darla?” I feel like I’m ready to jump out of my skin.
“10:30. Got a date?” she teases.
Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.
“Perfect!” she cries. I can hear the camera shutter take a thousand photographs. “That’s the smile I needed.”
I’ve worked with a lot of photographers, but Darla’s the best. She does all of my exclusive shoots and usually works with the different magazines when they’re looking for the best pictures of me. I’ve known her since I was a teenager and she’s easy to be around. It helps that she’s family—Uncle Cade’s wife’s sister.
“That should be enough. Do you want to break?” she asks.
“Yeah, but I need to be out for the day.”
“Great, I love a day off.” She replaces her lens cap. “We’re done, people! Have an awesome day.”
When she announces it, the models whine in protest.
I beeline to the showers, since my body is covered in a greasy oil that gives my skin a sheen for the photos. Scrubbing until my skin is clean, I quickly dry off and dress in the clothes I brought for my date with Sophie and Charlie—dark blue jeans and a nice, dark blue button up with a white t-shirt underneath. As I walk back into the studio to get my coat and things, it’s all cleared out except for Darla and a couple of people on her camera crew.
“So who is she?” She breezes past me and speaks it like a secret.
“How can you tell?” I pull my coat over my shoulders.
“Because I haven’t seen you this happy since your brother came back from Afghanistan.” She stoops to lower equipment into a foam lined case.
“That was … a long time ago,” I quip. “Are you telling me I haven’t looked happy for over a year?”
“Happiness is subjective,” Darla explains. “You’ve appeared happy in that time, but there’s an excitement in your eyes that hasn’t been there before.”
“Damn, woman! Don’t you have a husband you should be giving shit to?” I crack a playful grin.
“Yup, he’ll get an earful in a few hours. Guess you’ll just have to be his replacement for the time being.” She stands with her hands on her hips, like she’s scolding me. “Now, who the hell is she? I need to know in case she breaks your heart.”
“My heart? Who says that’s at risk?”
“No one has to, Josh. It’s written all over your face.”
*****
The limo finally pulls into the Four Seasons. The moment the driver stops I’m going through the lobby two strides at a time. My destination is the gift shop.
I have to play this smart—too much and I’ll look like an ass, not the right gift and I’ll still look like an ass.
Think.
It doesn’t take too long to figure out; the gift store has a good marketing plan.
I scoop up the little gold bag and head to Sophie’s room.
Deep breath, Josh. This is just a fun outing.
This is not just a fun outing. This is a deliberate, thought out, intentional scenario to see what it’s like.
Being an older brother, I have some understanding
of family dynamics, but I’ve never been fully responsible for a kid before.
Are you sure you’re ready for that kind of responsibility? Caleb’s words echo through my mind.
I don’t know!
All this time I’ve been very content with my models in bikinis or taking out two women at a time and the fun and notoriety that came with that. None of it was real, meaning my emotions were never invested, I was just having a gluttonous, rowdy time. And upholding a bad-boy reputation worked well with the fans. Win-win all the way around.
When I first met Sophie, all I wanted to do was throw her down fast and hard and work out that insane craving she’d created.
I’d be a fucking liar if I said I still didn’t want to eat her alive, but since we’d been working together so intimately—our talks, her open, kind and inquisitive personality … I want more. I’ve never wanted more.
I want to know more. I want to know everything about her. I want to experience everything with her. And I feel the strongest, most compelling urge to protect her, to possess her and maybe even love her like nobody else.
At her door, I listen in for a sec before I knock. I hear Sophie singing a song with Charlie about tying her shoes. It’s so cute that I wait, and in a moment the song changes to buttoning her coat. Being a loving mother is suddenly and automatically at the top of my list of desirable qualities in a woman.
I rap my knuckles twice against the door and call out, “Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?” Charlie’s happy, high pitched voice rings out.
“Cows go,” I answer and listen for her response.
“Cows go, who?”
“No, silly, cows go moo!”
I hear Charlie break into a fit of laughter and Sophie opens the door, smiling.
“Clever,” she tells me with a sweet expression.
She is naturally and amazingly beautiful. I think she might be wearing a little bit of mascara, but that’s all. Her face is freshly scrubbed, and her complexion is porcelain and rose.
She turns and grabs a backpack then speaks out loud, “We have Goldfish and apple slices for snacking, a fresh set of clothes, a couple pull-ups, Kleenex and wipes. Oh, and three bottles of water.”
She pulls the strap over her shoulder.
“I can take it,” I offer.
She smiles. “I know. But I’ve got it.”
She’s wearing a pair of jeans with low-heeled black boots, a grey button up coat and a lilac scarf that wraps around her neck a couple times while the ends hang haphazardly. Her hair is pinned up in a bun with a set of red, black and gold wooden chopsticks. Her deep brown hair has streaks of auburn that seem as if they don’t want to stay in the bun. Her lips are a soft pink. I can tell she’s wearing a colorless gloss or moisturizer. Oh, how I want to kiss her right here and now.
“Are there really sharks, Joshy?” Charlie takes my attention. I notice that she’s wearing the same pink wristband pouch that she was wearing when I saw her on the plane, and I wonder what she’s got inside. Probably some cute little treasures—it’s the perfect bag for a three-year-old girl since she can’t lose it.
“Just wait until you see everything. There are sharks and colorful fish, and I’ve heard that there are even”—I squat down to get on her level, and she comes closer, sensing special info—“mermaids,” I whisper.
“MERMAIDS?!” she screams. “Really, Mommy, mermaids?”
“I guess we’re just going to have to see.” Sophie picks Charlie up and props her on her hip.
“You know, Sophie, I can take the bag. You don’t have to carry it all,” I say as we walk out into the hallway. As a single mom, I’m sure she’s used to doing everything herself. I wonder if she’ll let me in. It’s a small gesture really, just letting me carry a day bag, but I Googled the psychology of single moms—tough, independent, do it themselves and by their own rules—and I respect her strength.
She considers me for a moment.
“Mommy!” Charlie whines impatiently.
She fists the duffel’s strap and hands it to me as if it’s a test.
I think I’d better not lose it.
*****
The aquarium is huge, and keeping pace with Charlie is mind-blowing. We look in one tank for a moment and, if it doesn’t completely enthrall her, we’re racing to the next.
“This is a good workout,” I laugh to Sophie. “No wonder you’re in such great shape.”
“MOMMY, LOOK! IT’S NEMO!!”
We both laugh as Charlie yanks Sophie’s arm to drag her to the Finding Nemo exhibit.
“That’s Dory, and Gill, and Nemo’s daddy …” Charlie points to each fish.
“Nemo is her favorite. This was a really great choice, Josh. Thanks.” As Sophie says this, she doesn’t actually look at me, she keeps her gaze set on the tank.
I wonder what’s going through her mind, because she looks happy and deeply thoughtful at the same time.
We stroll through the underwater tunnel. Charlie sets her hand on the tank as if to touch the sea turtle that swims over to greet her.
“Do you have a favorite?” I ask Sophie.
“A favorite aquatic animal? Hmm … maybe the turtle.”
“Why?”
She laughs lightly but nervously as she watches the huge turtle that is seemingly playing with Charlie. “When they’re first born, they don’t have much of a chance in life. Everything is set up against them, and it’s do or die. They have no mother or father turtle to show them the way. They have to break out of a constricting shell, crawl up through the sand they’ve been buried beneath and then run like hell to the sea before they’re torn apart by some waiting predator.”
“They really are underdogs,” I agree.
“Joshy, what are these?”
While Sophie and I were talking, Charlie had moved down the tube, so we catch up with her.
“Those are moray eels.”
“They look scary,” she says with a dramatic shiver.
In a second they swim away and Charlie screams! Both Sophie and I jump.
“SHARK!”
I try to calm my racing heart. “Does she always scream this way?”
“Always.” Sophie giggles. “Wait till she catches sight of the mermaids.”
Another half hour into our trip and I learn three-year-olds have two volumes, loud and louder.
At the touch pool, Charlie simultaneously screams and laughs while trying to get the courage to lay a hand on any of the creatures who circle by just under the surface.
“The triangle fish is going to bite me!” she says, sure of herself.
“That’s a ray. They feel rubbery, a little like a Barbie doll’s legs.” I keep one from swimming further and stroke the rubbery flesh with my fingers before I bring it a little closer to her. “See, it’s safe.”
Her smile is so alive when she stretches her little hand over the ray’s body. She laughs, “It does feel like Barbie legs.”
Her giggle is contagious. Sophie and I catch it.
“Charlie, you’re so brave!” Sophie praises her.
“Joshy keeps me safe,” she decides, petting the creature I’m still holding.
How does such a simple, innocent statement from a child pierce through my heart and anchor itself there?
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND CHILDREN OF ALL AGES, THE MERMAIDS HAVE ARRIVED!” an announcer booms through the overhead speakers.
Charlie squeals and pulls on Sophie’s arm, then grabs my hand as well.
“We have to go this way.” As I lead us down the corridor, I’m very much aware that Charlie’s small, tender hand is in mine, holding it excitedly, trustingly. The comparison isn’t lost on me; on the contrary, it’s all I can think about. My hand is huge, monstrous and deadly, rippled with muscle and scars, while hers is soft and pure, tiny and loving.
I’m not the only one experiencing something deep and profound. Sophie is trying to secretly wipe her tears. The pain in her visage is so clear; I want to take her pain an
d eradicate it.
Another emotion I see in her eyes is hope as Charlie stands between us, holding each of our hands.
The three of us are linked.
Chapter Ten
Sophie
There is nothing sexier than a rough, dangerous man who can humble himself to play on a little child’s level.
Charlie’s absolute acceptance of Josh is unraveling me. Part of me screams, get away from him! Another part of me wants to reach out and take his hand with as much ease and trust as Charlie did this afternoon.
And what the hell is Josh thinking anyway?? I’m not a mind reader. Just because he’s sweet on Charlie, doesn’t prove he has any substantial feelings toward me.
How could I ever even think I could compete with the gorgeous and influential women he’s always hooked up with, who can give him so much more than me? I’m not walking down any red carpets. They hang all over him like ornaments. They boost his playboy reputation. That’s fine for them, but I am not an ornament.
I can’t be.
I know I’m pretty and intelligent, but I don’t have a celebrity’s face or body. I keep healthy, but … I giggle out loud over the idea of Josh undressing me in a fit of passion then getting spooked by the odd purple lines that run in rivulets down my abdomen.
Ah, stretch marks.
“Are you wearing stockings?” Britt calls from the other room, distracting me from my idiocy.
“Thigh highs,” I answer.
As I roll them on, all I can think about is Josh rolling them off.
I can’t help it! He’s too gorgeous. I want his hands all over me. What woman wouldn’t? What woman doesn’t?
The event is supposed to be fun and … Oh God, who am I kidding? There will be models and starlets, and if I could just get over the fact that Josh is accompanying me, maybe I could enjoy it.
I’d read the magazine articles and the internet news about how he often goes to a party with one woman and leaves with another … or both.
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