Take Your Time (A Boston Love Story Book 4)

by Julie Johnson

  “Still waiting on an answer, Delilah. One way or another, I’m finding out tonight.”

  Shit.

  I totally should’ve worn panties.

  The drive is tense. Silent. Saturated by unrelenting sexual tension so thick, I can barely breathe around it. When we pull to a stop in a free space about a half-block down from my building, I’m unbuckled and reaching for the handle before the truck is off.

  “Delilah.”

  One word, full of so much meaning.

  It stops me in my tracks with a shiver. I glance over my shoulder at him, a goodbye poised on my tongue…

  It never comes out.

  I’m not sure why it happens, or how, but something inside me simply snaps. Gives way, like a levee washing out beneath a flood. Maybe it’s because, when I first met him, I thought the attraction I felt was just about getting him into bed, screwing him out of my system with sheer force of will.

  But now that I know him… now that I’ve seen past the hard exterior to the man beneath, the fighter who infuriates me one minute and instills me with passion the next… who constantly challenges me, yet also thrills me in a way no man has ever really done before… who sends me reeling half the time, but knows exactly how to ground me again when I’m spiraling out of control…

  I can’t hold it in anymore.

  Can’t stop myself. Won’t stop myself.

  To hell with the consequences.

  Much as I’d like to tell you I suffered some kind of mental break, I think my true motivations were less psychological and more…

  Physical.

  Unlatching my belt, I’m out of my seat and over the console in a flash. My legs straddle his lap, sending my skirt up around my waist, and then my mouth is on his. Which is crazy, since a half hour ago I was ready to kill the man.

  It just so happens that the only time I actively don’t want to murder him is when my mouth is pressed to his.

  In the past, he’s always been the initiator. I feel a rush as I turn the tables on him, as I see the flash of surprise in his eyes the second before we collide. He groans as I grind down against him, his mouth hard and hot as it moves under mine. His arms slide around me instantly, so tight I soon find myself plastered against his chest, and I gasp against his lips as I feel how hard he is already. I’m ravenous, needy, damn near desperate to touch him.

  If I’m honest with myself, I’ve been like this all day — all raw nerves and untapped passion, chafing in my clothes. Itching to be back in his arms. Last night, his lips sparked a need inside me that hasn’t been fulfilled, and it’s been gnawing at me with unrelenting teeth ever since.

  My hands grip his face, tracing stubble and sharp cheekbones. I angle my head to deepen the kiss, loving the way his lips feel on mine. Giving and demanding, soft and hard, all at the same time. When I duck my head to kiss his neck, he lets out a growl that rattles his whole chest.

  “Delilah.” His hands find my chin and he angles my face up to his. I see the strain in his eyes and know it’s taking monumental effort for him to push me away. “Go get the damn dog. I need to fuck you and I’m not doing it in my truck.”

  My mouth goes so dry at his blunt admission, I can’t speak.

  “You still with me, babe?”

  I give a nod, eyes still locked on his mouth.

  “Christ,” he mutters darkly, reaching around me to push open the driver’s side door. “Go, before I change my mind about the truck. The windows are tinted, but the things I’m planning on doing to you require a bit more space.”

  I make a pathetic sound, half-moan-half-sigh, and clamber off his lap, down onto the street, straightening my dress and smoothing my hair as soon as I’m upright. He smirks at me, a dirty look in his eyes.

  I’ve got you now, his gaze taunts cockily.

  “Right, so, have a pleasant night, then!” I say, just to screw with him. “See you at the wedding!”

  His glowering eyes move from the massive erection he’s sporting over to me, a lethal look in their depths.

  “Are you fucking kidding?”

  Darting up onto my tiptoes, so my face is an inch from his, I breathe, “Why yes, I am, actually,” against his lips, depositing a playful peck on them before lowering myself back down to the road.

  “Careful, Delilah. You play with fire, you’re gonna get burned.”

  Gulp.

  His eyes are torn between amusement and desire as they scan me from top to toe, lingering on all my good bits. I feel breathless beneath the weight of his gaze.

  “Just teasing,” I murmur weakly. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Good. Because, babe? We’re going back to my place.” His smile is wolfish. “And then it’s my turn to do the teasing.”

  My blood pressure spikes in anticipation. Closing the cab door, I bolt down the empty stretch of sidewalk as fast as possible, heading for the entryway to the Macombers’ townhouse. I’m eager to get back to the truck, and the man inside it. More than eager.

  The things I plan on doing to you require a bit more space.

  My pace increases.

  On their stoop, I do my best to catch my breath. When I’m somewhat more composed, I knock lightly, not wanting to wake the kids. I hear the pitter-patter of paws against their hardwood floors and when the door opens, I’m immediately bombarded by Fenway. His paws hit my knees and he whines excitedly. I know it’s impossible, but I swear he looks bigger than he did when I dropped him off.

  “Hi, buddy,” I say, bending to greet him. My face is only in range for about six seconds but he manages to get several good licks in before I straighten to meet Joyce’s eyes. “Thank you so much for watching him.”

  “Oh, it was a blast.” She grins at me. “Hey, can you come in for a second? The kids are sleeping but Ted and I want to run something by you. It won’t take long. Unless you’re in a rush…”

  Actually… there’s a rather pressing need sitting in that truck down the block…

  “Of course!” I say brightly, internally slapping myself. “No rush at all.”

  Luca is going to kill me.

  I follow Joyce into the kitchen with Fenway shadowing my every step. As soon as I sit down at the kitchen island, he whines until I scoop him into my arms and hug him close, rubbing his ears rhythmically the way I know he likes.

  “Any accidents?” I ask, looking around for signs of destruction.

  “No, he was great. It helped that it was such a nice night — we played in the yard with him until the kids went to bed, so he didn’t have much of a chance to wreak havoc.”

  I blow out a relieved sigh. “Oh, good.”

  Ted walks into the kitchen wearing striped pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt, a paperback poised in front of his face. “Honey, do we have any of that gelato left— Oh!” He finally looks up and notices me. “Hi there, Lila. Didn’t see you.”

  “Good book?” I ask.

  He nods and looks at his wife excitedly. “Did you tell her yet?”

  She shakes her head, looking equally thrilled. “I was waiting for you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Joyce’s face is split with a smile so wide, just seeing it makes me smile too.

  “I’m pregnant!” she blurts.

  “Oh my god!”

  “I know! It was totally unexpected. Obviously. I mean… I’m forty-two. This was not the plan.” She looks at her husband. “Thought Ted was going to have a heart attack when the stick turned blue.”

  “A stroke, actually,” he jokes. “But once I recovered, I was thrilled.”

  “We both are.”

  “I’m thrilled for you!” I exclaim, hopping down from the stool and hugging them both in quick succession. “This is amazing! Do the twins know, yet?”

  Joyce shakes her head. “Not yet. We’re waiting a few more weeks. But… well, that brings us to what we wanted to talk to you about.”

  “You have more news?”

  “Not news, exactly.” Ted shrugs. “More of a… prop
osition.”

  “A proposal,” Joyce echoes, staring at me intently.

  My brows shoot up. “Gotta say, you two are really starting to freak me out.”

  “Jesus, Ted, now she thinks we’re going to suggest some kind of weird Indecent Proposal arrangement.” Joyce snorts. “No. We don’t want to have a threesome with you… We want you to be our nanny. Full time. For all three kids. Once the baby comes, I won’t be able to do it all — juggling the law practice and also being a good Mom. I love my kids to pieces but… I also love my job. This would be an ideal solution.”

  My mouth falls open. I can’t think of a thing to say except, “Are you sure? I mean… I’ve never been a nanny. I’d never even been a babysitter, until I met you guys, and that was more of an accident than an intentional career move…”

  Ted laughs. “Sorry about that. My fault, for commandeering you against your will.”

  “Look, Lila…” Joyce grabs my hands in hers. “We don’t care that you don’t have a long childcare resume. The twins adore you. We adore you. It’s like you’re already part of the family.”

  My stomach clenches.

  Ted clears his throat. “We know you’re losing your apartment. We have a back bedroom — it’s nothing fancy but, if you want it, it’s yours should you accept the position. You and Fenway are more than welcome once we fix it up a bit.”

  “You want me to live with you?” I can’t help the incredulity in my tone.

  “We hate that we’re losing you as our neighbor.” Ted frowns. “But I have to tell you, we broke the news to the twins today… and they’re absolutely heartsick over it.”

  My heart pangs.

  “But… I’m just a babysitter,” I murmur.

  “Not to them,” Joyce interjects. “To them, you’re irreplaceable.”

  “A big sister,” Ted adds, almost as an afterthought.

  A big sister.

  My eyes start to sting at the thought of me being anyone’s big sister. Anyone’s Mimi.

  “We haven’t known you for that long, but we really do think of you as family, Lila.”

  My throat feels alarmingly tight.

  “Oh, no. Did we freak you out? Come on too strong?” Joyce wrings her hands. “Ted, I told you we should’ve invited her over for dinner instead of ambushing her. People are much more receptive when you ply them with carbohydrates.”

  I laugh. “No, no, you didn’t scare me. Though I never turn down dinner rolls.”

  “Me neither,” Ted concurs.

  “I’m so happy for you guys. And I’m so honored you’d ask me to be part of your home… part of your family. But—”

  “You need time to think about it,” Ted guesses.

  “Just promise you’ll consider it.” Joyce’s eyes are so hopeful. “Please.”

  “I will absolutely think about it.” I stare from husband to wife. “Thank you.”

  “Trust us — we’re the ones who should be thanking you.”

  With another round of hugs and a promise to call when I make a decision, I usher my sleepy pup toward the front door. My mind is churning over the proposition as I walk out onto the stoop, Fenway’s doggie bag slung over my shoulder and his leash coiled around my left wrist. I close their wrought-iron gate with a low squealing sound and peer into the dark night. Luca’s truck is idling halfway down the block — I head for it in a daze, still lost in thought as I pass my front door.

  Former front door, I correct. Come Monday morning.

  I’m so preoccupied with the possibility of becoming a full-time nanny — something I never in my wildest dreams would’ve considered doing six months ago, let alone six minutes ago — that I don’t see the massive figure lurking by my stoop until he detaches from the shadows and steps into my path.

  “Delilah Sinclair.” His voice is full of menace. I can make out an ugly birthmark shaped vaguely like an eggplant on his face, even in the dark.

  My feet freeze on the pavement. Fenway growls, sensing sudden danger.

  “No, you’ve got the wrong girl,” I murmur, backpedaling away as fast as possible. I don’t make it far — another shadow materializes behind me. I bump into a broad chest and feel two hands land on my shoulders with Herculean strength, fingers biting into my flesh hard enough to bruise.

  “Don’t think so,” the second man — who I’d bet a zillion dollars is bald as a cueball — hisses in my ear. “Think you’re exactly who we’ve been looking for. You and your asswipe of a brother.”

  “LUCAAAAA!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME PLE—”

  I don’t get the rest of my plea past my lips, because a giant hand slaps over my mouth from behind, cutting off my air supply. Not about to go down without a fight, I clamp my teeth down into Cueball’s palm until I taste blood.

  “Fucking bitch!” he curses, hold loosening for a fraction of a second.

  In that brief window of time, I execute the same maneuver I used to evade Luca during our maple syrup battle: an elbow to the ribs and a limp-limbed slip out of his iron-clad grip. I’m rather impressed with myself for actually managing to escape from his hold, as I start running.

  Unfortunately, I forgot there are two of them — a fact that’s slammed back into my mind quite literally, when Eggplant extends his arm out and clips me straight across the chest in a classic “clothesline” move. It’s like running into a steel bar.

  I bounce off faster than a rubber ball on concrete, lungs screaming painfully from the impact, and ricochet back onto the pavement. My tailbone slams into the sidewalk, followed by my shoulder blades and the back of my head, hitting so hard I see stars swimming in my vision. I moan, incapacitated by the pain of it. It feels like every bone in my body is broken.

  Get up, get up, get up, I scream at myself.

  My limbs refuse to comply.

  I think I hear Fenway growling again, but it’s hard to focus through the haze of pain. When I feel a small furry body drop down close to my side, I force my eyes open. Immediately, I realize Fenway is not the one doing the growling.

  The noise is coming from Luca.

  He’s standing on the sidewalk with one hand wrapped in Eggplant’s shirt, punching him repeatedly in the stomach. There’s so much rage on his face, I worry he actually might kill him.

  They have no idea who they’ve messed with.

  He may be outnumbered… they may be huge and well-trained… but Luca fights like a man possessed, like someone who has nothing left to lose. If I had to guess who’ll win this altercation, I’d bet all the money in my checking account (all forty-seven dollars and sixty-two cents of it) on Luca coming out on top.

  With considerable effort, I prop myself onto my elbows in a half-sitting position and blink rapidly until my eyes refocus. Through the darkness, I catch sight of Cueball sneaking up behind Luca, attempting to trap him in a headlock.

  “Luca, behind you!” I croak, my voice breaking.

  He somehow hears my warning. With a brutal shove, he tosses Eggplant against the brick wall of my building. The man hits with a sickening thud, all two hundred and fifty pounds of him crumpling against the ground like a rag doll. It’s a strangely incongruous sight, seeing a man like that broken on the pavement. Like a cat swimming laps or a bear blowing bubbles.

  Girl, how hard did you hit your head?

  After dispatching Eggplant, Luca never pauses; spinning around, he delivers an incredibly powerful roundhouse kick to Cueball’s chest. The thug goes flying backward into a nearby parked car and falls into the gutter. He does not get back up.

  I blink and try to scramble to my feet, Fenway’s leash still gripped tight in my hand. A wave of wooziness crashes through me — I hit my head hard, if the spinning is any indication.

  Luca appears, arms going around me to support my weight. His eyes are intense with worry and something else, something that looks a lot like fear. When his hand slips into my hair, it comes back out covered in blood.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, scooping me
up into his arms and sprinting toward the truck without waiting another instant. I can hear the jangling of Fenway’s leash as he trots along beside us on his short little legs, every now and then letting out a low whine that tells me, in no uncertain terms, he is not a fan of what’s been going on for the past few moments and would very much like to return to regularly scheduled cuddle time, thank you very much, humans.

  Luca yanks the passenger door open so hard, I worry it’s going to come off its hinges. And yet, his hands are unspeakably gentle as he deposits me in the seat, cradling my head with care and placing Fenway on my lap. He’s not even winded from running with me in his arms.

  “Stay here,” he barks gruffly. “You will not move from this car without me, do you understand?”

  I nod. My voice is tremulous. “Yes.”

  The door slams and he’s gone, the locks clicking firmly behind him. I turn my head to watch him disappear into the night, racing back toward the men who jumped me. My heart is slamming against my ribs so hard I think it might leap from my chest. My fingers sift into Fenway’s fur, hugging him close.

  He whines lowly.

  “I know, boy,” I whisper, the words shaky and thin. “I’m worried about him, too.”

  As it turns out, our worries are for naught.

  Less than a minute after leaving us, Luca climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. We race away from the curb and barrel down my street, the air thrumming with barely-leashed violence.

  “What happened to them?” I ask, almost scared to know the answer.

  “Gone,” he grits out. “Took off.”

  Shit.

  That means they’re still out there, somewhere. That they’ll very likely try again, in the future.

  The thought shakes me to my core.

  “Where are we going?” I whisper when Luca takes an unfamiliar turn.

  “To the fucking hospital,” he snaps. “You’re hurt.”

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” I look at him, at his hands curled around the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, at his clenched jaw and furious eyes, and realize he’s still consumed by rage from the fight. “Luca.”