Broken Daddy: A Single Dad & Nanny Romance

by Blake North

  “Why do you think I hired you, Reva? Instead of any of the others? Because you stood up to me. Because I wanted her to see in her own life and her own home that it’s good to stand up for what you believe in, that no man no matter how much money he has or how much control he has is a god who shouldn’t be contradicted. I want her to speak up for herself, even when it’s against me. It’s aggravating as all hell when you do it and when she does it, but I won’t raise her to be sweet and silent. I could have had any number of very compliant nannies, but none of them were the kind of person I want her to take as a role model.”

  I’m so moved that he says this, that he wants a strong outspoken daughter, that he admires something about me that I thought just irritated the hell out of him. I shake my head, feeling somehow unworthy of such regard. Of such a compliment.

  “Oh, Ridge. There are so many reasons she needs a better role model than me. I let someone take advantage of me last year—”

  “The boyfriend with the credit card?” he says. I’m stunned. He knew all along and trusted me anyway, with his daughter and with his money.

  “I was irresponsible and too trusting, and it was a huge mistake.”

  “Obviously, but you’ve learned from that situation, I presume.”

  “Yes, I’ve learned to keep my credit cards to myself for one thing, and to ask questions. I thought it would be insulting or hurt his feelings if I questioned him. I should have asked anyway and checked up on him, whether it made me uncomfortable or not.”

  “Yes,” he says, “and he wrecked your credit, which will make it harder to get a bank loan for your learning center.”

  “So I’ve paid dearly with my reputation as well as my FICO score. A less credulous role model would be good for her. Someone more skeptical and smarter,” I admit.

  “It’s a nice counterpoint to me. I don’t trust anyone.”

  “Not even yourself,” I say without meaning to.

  “Least of all myself. It’s funny though,” he scoffs, “I think I’m the only one who can keep Lydia safe, but I can’t even trust myself around you. I make the stupidest choices and say the very worst things.”

  “Maybe we bring out the worst in each other. I think that’s a personality conflict,” I say a little sadly.

  “I think it’s worse than that. It’s a case of opposites attracting, which is—”

  “Explosive?” I say.

  “Destructive,” he corrects, “I think that was the problem my parents had. They were too different so they made each other miserable. And me too.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again, and I uncross my arms and hug him.

  It was supposed to be comforting and friendly. I forgot for a moment that the attraction between us, which I’ve grown accustomed to as background noise when we’re in the same room, flares white hot at the slightest touch. The embrace that was meant to be a clasp of my arms around his shoulders, brief and reassuring, phases into something fiery once our bodies are in contact. I try to pull back, to draw away from him as soon as I realize what I’ve done. It’s too late. Nothing that is merely friendly or polite can exist between Ridge Carter and me.

  His hand catches my wrist, hauls me against him. I feel the electricity, the inevitability of what is happening. I promised him to be professional, to keep my distance. This is my doing. I touched him and set this off. It’s bigger than both of us and unstoppable. I feel the tug low in my belly, the need for him, the thirst that is slaked no other way than this. I look at his fingers around my wrist. My eyes flick back to his. They are dark with purpose, as I knew they would be.

  He’s impossible to resist. His face dips toward mine. I part my lips in anticipation because he’s going to kiss me and I don’t want to waste a single second. As soon as his mouth brushes mine, I’m lost. As if I weren’t lost already. I touch his face with my free hand, the rasp of his unshaven cheek making my palm tingle. The tip of his tongue is in my mouth and, oh yes, I had forgotten how good this part can be. The part where he kisses me. I would do almost anything if he’d just keep kissing me this way forever.

  Ridge pulls me to him, his arm around my waist. He released my wrist so I hold his face in both my hands. His gorgeous, handsome face. I kiss him back with all the passion, all the yearning I’ve felt for him. His hands on my body are glorious, making me feel alive again. I try to pull him toward the couch, the scene of the crime as it were. He shakes his head.

  “Not this time, Reva. This time I’m taking you to bed like you deserve,” he says against my lips, his voice primal, a growl that sends a delicious chill through me.

  He knows what he’s doing, what we’re doing. He means to have me, and to take me to his bed. I feel a jolt of pure happiness at what lies ahead. Because he won’t be stopping to change his mind or say he got carried away. I know he hates himself for succumbing to our attraction the first time. This time, we have our eyes wide open.

  “I want to do this,” I tell him, half breathless as he moves me to his bedroom.

  “So do I. It’s all I’ve wanted for as long as I’ve known you. There’s no getting around it, Reva. If we’re going to live in the same house, this is going to happen. We can try to keep it a secret. We can try to avoid it, but I’m not sure how successful that will be.”

  “Not very, if this is any indication,” I laugh shakily as he does away with my shirt and pulls down my leggings. He kicks the door shut.

  “Why are you always wearing these damned leggings?” he mutters.

  “Blame your personal shopper. She picks them out. So comfortable.”

  “They’re a menace,” he says, and I laugh.

  Then it’s my turn to unbutton his shirt and slide it off him, to take off his belt and push down his pants. I love how gorgeous he is, how every bit of his incredible body is a testament to his self-discipline, his drive and determination. It’s the first look I’ve had at all of him. Our hasty coupling on the couch was more about getting quick access to all the necessary bits than it was about stopping to admire him. So I do. I pause to look at his body and appreciate it. I kiss his shoulder, his neck. My hands travel across the expanse of his chest. I kiss his shoulder again.

  “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than that spot right there,” I say.

  His palm curves around the back of my neck and guides my head to his shoulder. I fit there so perfectly that I sigh and relax against him for a moment.

  “I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have in that spot,” he teases.

  I tilt my face up to kiss him. He moves me to the bed, but slowly, with kisses and caresses. I want him as breathlessly as ever, but I don’t feel rushed this time. I feel savored. So I take my time with him, running my hands over his arms and back, grabbing his butt as he kisses me.

  “I think groping me is considered a form of harassment,” he says, playfully nipping at my top lip.

  “No, you’re my boss. So if there’s any harassment going on, it’s your fault,” I tease him. I know the power imbalance has bothered him, the forbidden nature of our tryst. So I play with that a little to tease him. “The way you look at me, the way you’ve got your mouth—ahhhh—on my nipple right now—totally inappropriate,” I say.

  “Do you think you should call human resources?” he says, his teeth lightly scraping my nipple, “Or should you just tattle to Caroline so she can poison my coffee tomorrow.”

  “I thought I’d see if you can do more than harass me. I think if you can go all night, I could be persuaded to drop any claims against you.”

  “What about what I want to hold against you?” he says, nipping at my neck, “Or inside of you?”

  “Yes,” I say, breaking character, hands in his hair.

  He is above me now, Ridge’s face inches from mine. I can feel his chest heaving as he breathes hard—the chemistry between us is insane. I feel like if he touches me, I’ll be lost completely. I hold his arms, my hands on his biceps. “Wow, these are nice,” I say stupidly as I squeeze them.r />
  “I’m glad you like them.”

  “I’m sure you lift weights so you can, I don’t know, intimidate people, but there are other benefits.”

  “Like the stamina to hold myself up for a long time while I drive you to the edge,” he says. A thrill runs through me at the words. I look up at him and smile.

  “Yeah, I’d like that,” I say, making the worst understatement of my life.

  “Then let’s get started,” he says.

  Ridge sits back on his heels and runs his hands up my legs as if he has all the time in the world. I never thought of my legs as being particularly sexual. I use them to run, so I guess they’re in decent shape, but I didn’t think they were my best feature. But Ridge seems to like them as he strokes the curve of one calf, lifting my leg and kissing behind my knee. That’s a new sensation, and one I’d like to have more of. It’s wildly good. He goes so slowly, pressing his lips to my thigh, then taking time to trail his fingers up my legs and along my belly. It’s driving me crazy. I’m practically thrashing on the bed with frustration. It’s the pent-up desire plus my natural impatience, probably.

  I give in to my impulse and sit up, bringing me face to face with him.

  “I know you want to take your time, Ridge,” I say, my voice high and breathy, “But I need you. I can’t wait.”

  “Anticipation is half the fun,” he says archly.

  “Then we have different definitions of fun,” I accuse.

  “We are opposites,” he says, crawling up the bed and leaning me back down, “Now be good and don’t move.”

  “What?”

  “I want you to lie still and enjoy,” he says.

  “You’re so bossy,” I grumble.

  “I’m your boss, remember,” he says.

  Then his mouth is on my neck. It’s instant pleasure, a distinctive tingle starting between my legs as he kisses my neck, in no hurry at all. I’m dragging my hands through his hair, mumbling something that makes no sense. Ridge slides one hand along my rib cage, his thumb stroking the underside of my breast. I reach for him, for the hard length of him I know awaits me. There it is, his erection jutting stiff and ready for me. I take him in my hand, one long stroke, and I meet his eyes.

  “Don’t you want me,” I say, my whisper playful against his lips.

  The time for play seems to be over. He hitches my leg up to his hip. I feel him move the head of his cock to brush my aching, needy cleft. I try to push down, to open for him, to coax him inside. He holds infuriatingly still, so all I get is the tantalizing brush of the flaring head of his cock, the tip wet and hot and everything I want right now.

  “I want you,” he says against my lips in response, “I never stopped wanting you.”

  “Then take me,” I say, a challenge in my voice, “show me.”

  “I’ll show you that you belong to me. You’re mine,” he says through gritted teeth. A thrill zips through me at the words. I want to be his, to belong to him.

  The slow push of his first thrust parts my soft, eager folds. The heaviness of him, the pressure in my body makes me catch my ragged breath. I reach between us, slide my hand down my belly.

  “I can feel you inside me,” I say as I press my fingers into my pelvis. I dip my fingers down to the place where we join. It feels amazing to touch his cock as he moves in and out, amazing to touch my own wet flesh as I receive him. I revel in it, in this rhythmic movement of his thrusts into my body, the way I stretch to accommodate his size. He feels huge within me. I whisper, “You’re so big,” in wonder. He kisses behind my ear.

  “You know what a man likes to hear,” he says. I laugh at him then.

  “No, it’s true. You’re so big. I wonder every time if it’s more than I can take.”

  “You can take it,” he says, punctuating his words with a harder thrust. I moan as he brushes some spot inside me that makes my whole body start to tremble. I hold on to him, my arms going around his neck to anchor myself as I start to come apart. He kisses my cheek, kisses my lips. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says, “Just hold on to me.”

  With his next thrust, I’m gone. I spiral out into a screaming jolt of ecstasy. He’s kissing me to stop me from making noise. I hold on to him, feel him come fast inside of me. His arms go around me. He scoops me up and rolls onto his back bringing me with him. I’m in his arms, panting in his bed. He kisses me, short, breathless kisses. Then he pulls a blanket up over us as I start to shiver. He strokes my hair. I love it. Even if the sex had been less amazing, this moment in the afterglow, in Ridge’s arms is the best feeling I’ve ever had. I’m completely safe and wanted here, his lips pressing against my hair. I nestle against his chest and shut my eyes.

  I must fall asleep because I wake to the sound of what I think at first is a siren. It’s his phone.

  “You don’t have to be careful not to disturb me. It’s a nice idea, but that alarm would wake anyone.”

  “It’s meant to,” he says grimly.

  Ridge slides me onto the pillow, pulling away. He reaches for the phone while I burrow under the blanket thinking how cold I am outside of his arms.

  “I have to go,” he says, “there’s an intruder at Carter Security.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ridge

  I am asleep with a beautiful woman in my arms. Then I get the app alert and all hell breaks loose. I spare a glance for her, one of regret. I wish I could stay here in this bed, in her arms, and block out the world. I wish the devil wasn’t on my doorstep tonight.

  “You can go back to sleep. I have to go down there and see what’s going on. It could be a vandal or a burglary. Or it could be someone from the syndicate. Lock the doors. There are guards on the perimeter.”

  I’ve got my clothes back on by now. I see her face in the moonlight, the fear marring her beauty. I do something I never thought I’d do in an emergency. I stop to comfort her. With one shoe on, I turn around, bend over the bed and kiss her softly on the lips.

  “It’s okay, Reva. I’ll take care of it,” I tell her. She nods. I can tell she’s trying to resist reaching for me, pulling me back into bed to hold her.

  She looks so young right now in my bed without her makeup and her sarcastic armor. This is a lot for her to take in. I feel for her now, a wave of compassion. I hug her. I, who have never hugged anyone but my own child. I give her a reassuring hug and kiss her again.

  “Come back to me?” she says, her voice quiet, hopeful.

  “Yes,” I tell her, putting on my other shoe, “I will.”

  “I’ll get dressed and go in with Lydia.”

  “There’s no need to wake her. You can go back to sleep yourself. It’s just a break in at the office,” I say. I want her to stay up, be vigilant, be dressed and ready.

  “I won’t be able to sleep until you’re back.”

  “Okay, then you’re right. Get dressed. Wait up. Make some hot chocolate,” I try to smile at her as I leave.

  I drive across town to the office. The police are already there, summoned by the same alarm that I got on my app. They’re holding two big guys. I charge into the building, unnerved by the sight of my heavily secured offices standing wide open. I go straight to my office to see what’s missing or compromised. A cop already in there tells me to leave.

  “This is my office,” I say, “I want to inventory—”

  “This is a crime scene in a police investigation, sir,” she says, “you’ll have to step outside.”

  “No. You can fingerprint whatever you want, but I have to see if the firewall was breached. Your job is to catch the perpetrators, which you’ve clearly done. Now let me investigate what damage was done to my property. The taxpayers, myself included, don’t pay you to get in our way.”

  She escorts me out while I argue. What right do they have to keep me away from my own property? Her partner rolls his eyes at me. I’ve dealt with this jerk before. Local law enforcement isn’t exactly on my Christmas card list, and I’m not their favorite either. I have better tech,
more money, and the city hired me to do an audit on internal affairs last year that got a couple of pretty popular officers fired. So they’re basically all out to get me.

  “Buddy, all they had was a couple of laptops and a tablet, one printer already loaded in their car. It was small time,” the officer tells me.

  “No way,” I say, “Why would they break in to a heavily secured office to steal something they could knock off at a Walmart?”

  “Criminals are pretty stupid, or didn’t you know that? That’s why they get caught,” he laughs.

  Breaking in to my company would be more trouble than it was worth. Any idiot knows that if there’s a keypad and a retinal scan, there’s a silent alarm as well. That law enforcement and private security would be on site before they had five minutes inside. Two small time crooks could never have gotten past the nine-digit code on the keypad or faked a retinal scan without some seriously advanced tech. They had to have help, big time help. And why would anyone who could afford that expensive and specialized tech and knew how to use it want two laptops and a table off my secretary’s desk?

  Easy. They didn’t. They wanted me away from my house at two in the morning with a distraction.

  “We’ll need you to walk us through the offices and make a statement,” the cop is telling me.

  “I can’t,” I say, “They’re at my house. That’s what this is. You have to come with me. Or send a patrol out to my house. I live in Seven Hills gated community, like five minutes away. It’s the Rativan family—they’ve been targeting me since I did some contract work—please,” I say.

  “No way, buddy. I’m on this call. You need help, call 911. I think you’re just too high and mighty to do the walk through and file the report.”

  “No, look—I’m begging you. My daughter is there. Send someone—”

  I see I’m getting nowhere with this guy. I probably got his brother fired last year or something. I get in my car and take off.

  My blood is pounding. I know this is it. This is the threat I’ve been dreading, trying to prepare for. It’s here, and I took the bait, left my daughter alone to check on my goddamned office. Just like they knew I would. I want to be sick. I run a red light and don’t even look back. The app on my phone is shrieking alerts about the house being breached.