What he needed was a little quiet time with Maria followed by something he could easily nuke in the microwave for dinner. Add a glass of wine and maybe he’d finally be able to relax.
First, he needed to iron out the babysitting details with Yaz. The thought of that stressful conversation made the knot of tension in his neck tighten all over again.
He’d called Yaz as soon as the agency had let him know they couldn’t get someone full-time out here for a few more days. Thankfully she’d agreed to fill in.
Now, his feet dragging, he opened the garage door and stepped into the dimly lit kitchen. Silence greeted him.
“¿Hola?”
He glanced at the neon numbers on the stove’s glossy black display panel: 8:45. Damn, fifteen minutes past Maria’s bedtime. He’d counted on her still being up. Especially with her knack of bargaining for more time, asking for one more book.
Unless . . .
With her favorite dance instructor on nanny duty, no doubt Maria was on her best behavior.
Leaving his wool coat and briefcase on the kitchen island, Tomás strode through the formal dining room, then skirted the navy leather couch in the family room, loosening his tie along the way.
“Hello?” he called out again.
“Yay, Papá’s home!” Maria’s high-pitched voice rang out from the back of the house.
He grinned, catching a whiff of her bubblegum-scented soap when he passed the hall bath.
As he neared the end of the hall he heard their chatter, a different sound from the usual one that greeted him at the end of the day. Mrs. B’s wheezing laugh didn’t call to him like Yazmine’s husky chuckle. He pictured Yaz’s enticing grin and his gut tightened.
Pausing outside Maria’s door, he peeked around the corner into her little girl sanctuary.
Fresh from a bath, wearing her Little Mermaid pajama dress, Maria nestled comfortably under her Pepto-pink princess comforter. Her dark curls were the perfect halo for her angelic face.
That quickly, the stress of the day melted off him like butter on a hot tortilla.
This is why he worked so hard. Why he stopped at nothing to be the best at his agency, landing the longshot deals that brought in the big bucks. Anything to afford him the opportunity to come home to his precious little girl and find her happy and healthy. Unburdened by financial strain, and the stigma of its brand.
“Buenas noches, señoritas.” He eased into the room, grinning like a fool at Maria’s whoop of joy.
“Oooh, you’re in time for another story!” she squealed, clapping her hands with glee.
“Did Mrs. B get off okay?” Yaz looked up at him from where she knelt on the floor in front of a corner bookshelf. Barefoot, dressed in skinny jeans and a red form-fitting sweater, her hair falling in a satiny, black sheath to the center of her back, she looked comfortable, at home. Inviting.
His blood instantly heated.
He nodded mutely in answer to her question, not trusting his voice.
“Good.” Two books in hand, Yaz padded over to sit on the edge of the bed. She finger-combed Maria’s hair out of her eyes, and his child looked up at her with an adoring expression.
Tomás relaxed against the doorjamb. It felt so natural, watching the two of them together, as if Yaz reading a bedtime story with Maria was an everyday occurrence.
Only it wasn’t. And with her resolve to move back to New York City it never could be.
He flinched at the reminder.
Don’t get too used to this.
Across the room, Yaz tilted her head as she brushed her hair off her shoulder, exposing the length of her elegant neck. A primal urge to taste her olive skin, feel her pulse on his lips, nearly knocked him to his knees. He pressed his shoulder against the door frame, determined not to move.
“Any news on Mrs. B’s daughter?” Yaz asked.
“Uh, not yet. I haven’t gotten an update.”
He tugged his tie off and unbuttoned his top button, itching to move closer to the bed, to her.
“How come she didn’t called us, like we do when we get home from Abuela’s?” Maria fluffed her blankets, scooting over to make more room for Yaz next to her.
“She did, on my cell phone. But she was hurrying to get to the hospital, m’ija,” he said. “Now, how about you? Did you have a good day with Ms. Yazmine?”
Maria bobbed her head with enthusiasm, setting her black curls bouncing. Her eyes lit up as she began regaling him with the story of an afternoon split between baking cookies at Yaz’s house and practicing at the dance studio.
“And then Señor Fernandez said I made the bestest chocolate chip cookies he ever tasted! I told him he had to try Mrs. B’s when she gets back.”
Maria continued jabbering away, and for the first time all day he felt a measure of relief. As far as she was concerned, nothing earth-shattering had happened. Mrs. Buckley had simply left for a trip and Yaz had stepped into their nanny’s shoes. No big deal.
“Vente, Papá, read with us.” Maria gave her bed a pat.
His gaze strayed from Maria to Yaz, perched on the right side of his daughter’s bed, Dr. Seuss’s One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish in her lap.
The two olive-skinned, dark-haired beauties looked like mother and daughter, snuggling in a warm bed, enjoying quality time together. A bedtime story. Nightly prayers. Shared hugs. A cocoon of family love.
His mamá’’s usual nagging for him to find a wife to warm his bed and help raise Maria mocked him.
All he had to do was join them and the picture would be complete.
Complete, but a lie. Their situation was temporary. Yaz was here as a favor. Nothing more. He couldn’t afford to let himself forget that.
“Come on,” Maria repeated.
Self-preservation kept his shoulder glued to the doorjamb. “That’s okay. Three’s too crowded. It’s almost time for Ms. Yazmine to head home anyway.”
He forced a smile, trying to soften what had inadvertently come out sounding more like a dismissal. Probably because his mom’s words kept goading him. Torn between accepting his daughter’s innocent invitation and maintaining his distance from the one woman who threatened to scale his defenses, he’d come across like an ass.
Yaz stared at him for a moment, questions flashing from her dark eyes. Then her smile faded, a curtain of reserve draping across her face.
“You know what, mamita?” Yaz brushed a hand over Maria’s curls again, and then rose from the bed. “Your dad has been waiting all day for his special time with you. I’m going to let you two snuggle before bed.”
“Will you be here in the morning?” Anxiety touched the edges of Maria words.
“Um, I think so.” The glance Yaz sent Tomás let him know she harbored some doubt. “But I’m always only a phone call away. Remember I put my cell number on the fridge, okay?”
Maria nodded solemnly, no sign of her enthusiasm from moments ago.
“Buenas noches. Sleep tight.” Yaz pressed a kiss to Maria’s forehead.
Tomás angled his body, making room for her to pass when she reached him. It wasn’t enough. Yaz’s arm brushed against his chest as she walked by. Fire flashed through him.
“Excuse me,” she murmured.
The touch of disappointment in her voice pricked his conscience. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, merely protect himself and his daughter.
“Yaz, wait.”
She paused several steps away from him, but she didn’t turn around.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“She’s been asking about you since dinner. Tuck her in. I’ll wait in the kitchen so we can talk.”
She continued down the hall without waiting for his response—her shoulders stiff, her steps purposeful. Still, he couldn’t help noticing the seductive sway of her hips.
Tomás bit back a frustrated sigh.
What was it about this woman that continuously knocked him off kilter? Erasing whatever good sense he’d managed to acquire over the yea
rs.
Hell, he’d been lauded for his people skills, praised for his ability to sweet-talk the toughest of clients. Yet with Yaz, he couldn’t seem to stop sticking his foot in his mouth.
She had pitched in today without any qualms. The right way to thank her did not include making her feel uncomfortable.
He moved to go after her, intent on apologizing again.
“You ready, Papá?”
Maria’s call stopped him.
This is where he should be. With her. Not following a woman who tempted him without even trying.
“For you, princesa, always.” He stepped across the tiara-shaped throw rug in the center of her room. “What are we reading tonight?”
The bed dipped as he sat down and Maria leaned over to rest her head on his chest.
Tomás closed his eyes, letting the day’s stress seep out of him.
Right now, with his daughter safely cuddled in his arms, her bubblegum-scented shampoo floating up to him, he could almost pretend that everything was right in his world.
He hugged Maria tighter. Time with her never failed to recharge his battery, soothe his soul. More importantly, it kept him focused on his priorities as he reached for the life he wanted for them.
So his family portrait wasn’t necessarily the one he’d envisioned years ago. Maybe the sexy temptress waiting for him out front belonged on a different canvas. None of that should matter. He couldn’t allow it to.
* * *
Alone in the kitchen, Yaz refilled her glass with cold water from the refrigerator dispenser. The stream of liquid flowing into her cup was the only sound in the dimly lit room, making the thoughts clamoring for attention in her head obscenely loud.
Fifteen minutes ago she’d been content, happy even, sitting alongside Maria, surrounded by her pink frilly bedsheets. Then Tomás had shown up, his tie loosened, his hair mussed after a hectic day. His face tired, but his grin still electric.
Suddenly she’d been swamped by a contrast of emotions.
Desire, for this man who, despite his workaholic reputation, seemed to truly care about his kid.
Peace, at the idea that she could really belong in his home, caring for his precious child.
Fear, that for her, a life like this was impossible.
Her head and her heart had gotten caught up in the undertow of feelings, unsure which way was up and which was down. Or which emotion she could trust, if any.
Ultimately, she’d seen the discomfort in Tomás’s eyes when Maria had asked him to join them and reality had barged in to crash her pajama party.
She had no business playing house with Tomás and his daughter. She knew better.
The sound of Tomás’s shoes on the hardwood floor signaled his approach.
Yaz stayed near the fridge on the far side of the kitchen, leaving the island as a barrier between her and the doorway. Reminding her of the distance she needed to keep from Tomás.
For all their sakes.
“Did you get her settled down?” she asked when he entered.
“Out like a light.”
“She reminds me of Lilí at her age. A ball of energy always on the go.”
Tomás chuckled, the deep rasp brushing against her keenly tuned nerve-endings. “Yeah, she keeps me on my toes.”
Their hushed tones lent an air of intimacy to their conversation. One she tried to ignore.
“I appreciate you being here tonight,” he said, opening a cabinet and reaching for a glass. “Sorry for being so late. It happens from time to time, and my meeting couldn’t be rescheduled.”
“Not a problem. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to help. Did you hear back from the nanny agency about a fill-in?”
“It’s a little dicey.”
Tomás dragged a stool out with his foot and sat down with a sigh. Moonlight filtered in through the window above the sink, casting shadows throughout the room and leaving his figure in sharp relief. “They have a variety of nannies who can take turns for the next few days, but they don’t want to commit a full-time fill-in until I know when Mrs. B will be back. Problem is, I really don’t want Maria dealing with a revolving door of new people.”
Yaz leaned back against the fridge, considering their options. Knowing what she wanted to offer, afraid to say the words.
She took a deep breath, then stepped off the cliff. “Why don’t I watch Maria until we know what’s up with Mrs. B?”
“I don’t know . . .” Tomás speared a hand through his hair, leaving it more mussed than before. “It might be more than a few days.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I know today threw off your regular schedule.”
“It’s okay. We made it work.”
For some reason Yaz didn’t want to delve into, it felt vitally important that he allow her to do this. That he have the confidence in her to trust her with Maria.
Tomás rose from his stool and stepped toward her. “It’s a lot to ask. I owe you already.”
“You do. So say yes.”
“You want me to pay you back by asking you to keep disrupting your life to care for my daughter?”
“Sí.”
He stopped less than a foot away from her.
Yaz gazed up at him, straining to read his expression in the darkness. That crazy side of her, the one she silenced more often than not, cried out for him to keep moving. Come closer.
The quiet of night. The intimate atmosphere. The dappled moonlight filtering through the window casting muted shadows around them. It all created the perfect romantic setting for him to lean down, brush his lips across—
“Excuse me.” He raised a hand out to her.
“Hmmm?”
He wiggled his cup in her direction.
¡Ay Dios mío, que idiota! She scurried aside, giving him access to the fridge behind her.
“Sorry!” She laughed, the sound nervous to her ears, as she rounded the kitchen island, putting distance between them once more. “Today was a little out of the norm, but Maria handled it well.”
“She didn’t give you any trouble?”
“Are you kidding?” Yaz waved off his question, glad he hadn’t noticed her momentary slip into dreamland. “Maria’s an angel.”
“But she’s a five-year-old angel. She has her moments.”
“We all do.”
Tomás filled his glass from the water dispenser in the door, then took a healthy drink before setting his glass back on the island countertop. “Speaking of moments. Back in Maria’s room, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Forget about it.”
The last thing she wanted was to explain why or how his words had hurt.
It was her own dumb fault for wanting what she couldn’t have. “If you’re agreeable to me watching Maria until you hear back from Mrs. B, we should go over our schedules. I might have to move a couple things around at Hanson’s, but I’ll do my best to keep Maria’s normal routine.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Oh, the ways in which she wouldn’t mind him taking advantage of her. She just couldn’t go there.
“I’m positive.”
Tomás grinned. His dimple shot her a teasing wink and she found herself free-falling for his charm all over again.
“Okay then, let’s do this.”
Nervous excitement fluttered in her belly.
“Mind if I make myself a sandwich while we talk?” Tomás tugged on the fridge door. “I haven’t eaten anything since a Danish at my desk around ten this morning.”
“Actually, I saved you a plate from dinner. It’s in the microwave. Unless you don’t like roast with potatoes and carrots and a side of mac n’ cheese.” She pointed past his shoulder into the open refrigerator. “There’s a bowl of salad on the top shelf.”
“If I like?” Tomás blew out a breath, giving her an are-you-crazy glance over his shoulder. “You’re a godsend. With Mrs. B gone, I figured I’d have to fend for myself. Thanks.”
> Moments later Tomás motioned for her to join him at the kitchen island.
While he devoured his dinner, they went over his work hours and Yazmine’s commitments at Hanson’s. With Maria in kindergarten from eight to twelve Monday through Friday, Yaz would still have her mornings free for her own dance training or to take Papi to any appointments. Afternoons and evenings they could split between their houses and the dance studio when Yaz taught lessons or Maria had class.
“It’ll be a bit of a juggle. But I’m game if you are. I’m sure Maria will be thrilled.” Tomás set down his fork and used a napkin to wipe his mouth. “With me working from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays, that’ll help. We might be okay. Thanks to you.”
“Quit saying that.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “I know Maria would be uncomfortable if I had a parade of strangers rotating in and out. With my mom taking care of my sisters’ kids, there’s no one else I can call. Like I said earlier today, you’re a godsend.”
“So, for tomorrow,” she said, uncomfortable being the subject of his gratitude. She wasn’t this man’s savior. No matter how much that crazy little voice in her head cheered at the idea. “Since tomorrow is Tuesday, you’ll drop off Maria at school, and I’ll pick her up at noon. Same thing Thursday. Right?”
“Right.”
“Seems like we’ve covered everything then. It’s been a hectic day. I’ll get out of your hair so you can relax.”
She rose from her seat at the same time he did, plate in hand. They sidestepped around each other—him moving to the sink, she to the counter where she’d left her purse—and her hip accidentally bumped his. Heat sizzled through her, leaving a trail of smoldering sparks.
“Dinner was delicious,” he said. “But you don’t have to cook for us like Mrs. B did. I can grab takeout on my way home.”
Yaz huffed out a breath, irked that he didn’t seem to be affected by their close proximity.
“Don’t be silly. Papi and I cook every night, what’s a little more? I’ll see what Maria likes and as long as you’re not picky, we’ll be fine.”
She slid her purse strap over her shoulder, but Tomás grasped her hand and she froze in surprise.
His Perfect Partner Page 10
