Enticed

by Ginger Voight

  We spent the rest of the day at the science center, and then chatted about the things we learned on the way home tangled in rush-hour traffic. I didn’t expect to beat Drew home, but as it turned out he had never left.

  Whether or not my comment had anything to do with it, or if he wanted to oversee and micromanage my lesson plans, Drew had taken the rest of the week off to spend Spring Break with his son. We learned this when we walked into the kitchen and found Drew with a red checkerboard apron around his hips. He had barbecue tongs in one hand and a platter of steaks in the other.

  “Dad?” Jonathan asked as he processed this unexpected turn of events.

  “You think you’re the only cook in the family?” he asked with a playful smirk. His eyes met mine. “How do you like your steak, Miss Dennehy?”

  I didn’t know what to make of this any more than Jonathan did. “Medium rare,” I answered finally, and watched dumbstruck as Drew headed back outside to the barbecue pit. Jonathan and I shared a glance before we followed him.

  “How was the science center?” he asked Jonathan once we stepped outside.

  “It was great,” Jonathan gushed, before he launched into a full monologue on all the things he saw and did.

  Drew smiled at his son. “I guess we’ll just have to go back so you can show me all you learned.”

  Jonathan immediately brightened. It made me wonder how long it had been since they had done anything fun together. No wonder the kid was so miserable.

  “Is there anything you would like us to do?” I asked.

  Drew shook his head. “Almost completely done. Plenty of time for you both to go freshen up for dinner. Nothing fancy, of course. I figured we’d eat outside.”

  I nodded and guided Jonathan back into the house.

  Jonathan clasped my hand in his as we ascended the stairs together. “See why you have to stay?” he asked when we reached the second floor. “Dad’s cooking.”

  He laughed so I did, too. But I was definitely dumbfounded by Drew’s about-face. Was this really my influence? Or was this another game?

  I supposed the evening would tell the tale. Only the Lord knew why I was apprehensive as to what it might bring.

  Jonathan shared no such concerns. He was as happy as I had seen him, even more than when he was frolicking in the yard with Alex. He shadowed his dad at the grill, and Drew taught him about finer barbecuing technique.

  As it turned out, this business titan grilled a pretty mean steak. And I was from Texas. I knew steak. The outer crust was perfectly charred, while the inside was slightly pink and velvety on the tongue. It was seasoned simply with sea salt and peppercorn, and complemented by the grilled veggies on the side, a mixture of onion, sweet peppers and plump cherry tomatoes that popped when I bit into them.

  I didn’t say much through the meal, but I really didn’t get a chance to. Jonathan monopolized the conversation as he shared all the things he had learned and done at the science center with his father. Drew listened with rapt attention to every word. He asked questions here and there, but mostly allowed his son to chatter away.

  I got the sense that was an anomaly as well.

  “Sounds like a very productive day,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Maybe tomorrow I can tag along on one of your field trips.”

  It was as if he knew I was trying my level best to avoid him. Even worse, Jonathan was overjoyed at the idea. It was clearly two against one as they both turned to me for my answer. I forced a smile. “That would be lovely.”

  “How do you feel about a fine arts lesson at the Getty?” Drew asked.

  How did I feel about strolling around a grand accomplishment of architecture, standing mere feet away from the priceless masterpieces by the greatest artists that ever lived? “Count me in,” I said.

  Drew looked mighty pleased with himself as he turned to Jonathan. “Why don’t you go get the rest of that pudding for dessert?”

  Jonathan nodded happily and bounded back into the house. Drew turned back to me. “How was your steak?”

  “Not bad for a non-Texan,” I said.

  He grinned. “Didn’t think I could cook, did you?”

  “After our conversation yesterday, I didn’t expect it would be at the top of your list, no.”

  He shrugged as he gathered the plates. “I can’t take too much credit. I mean, it’s barbecue. I think every man was born with the gene.” I said nothing as I watched him clear the table. “I do want to apologize for my behavior yesterday. Is it possible to chalk it up to jet lag and start over? Genuinely.”

  I shrugged. “I agreed to that yesterday,” I pointed out. “But the steak was a very generous olive branch.”

  He sent me a playful wink. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

  I chuckled in spite of myself. “If there is a ‘next time,’ it’ll take a little bit more than a steak.”

  He laughed. “You do say what is on your mind, don’t you?”

  “Life’s too short to live any other way,” I replied.

  He gave me a slight bow in agreement. “Well said.”

  Jonathan reappeared with three bowls of banana pudding, topped high with whipped cream. He had made it fresh, which impressed Drew. Gone were the underhanded insults about the menial task of cooking. Instead he praised his son’s efforts and encouraged his newfound interest.

  Drew had also snagged a screener copy of a new release from one of his business clients, so we spent the evening laughing over a family movie that was due to be released that summer. By nine o’clock, Jonathan was ready to head to bed and I rose to join him.

  As lovely as the evening had been, I didn’t want to ruin it with further small talk with Drew.

  He made no objection, and in fact disappeared into his study to catch up on the work he would be missing this week.

  By the following morning, he once again put business aside to spend time with his son, and, by extension, me. We headed to the Getty Center, a museum in Brentwood founded by J. Paul Getty. We parked in the garage before taking a tram up the hill toward the museum. The architectural wonder sat atop a hill, giving visitors dynamic panoramic views of the sprawling Los Angeles basin, as well as the Pacific Ocean. It was home to varying exhibits, permanently housing some classic works of art by Monet, Van Gogh and Gaugin, among others.

  I was awestruck from the moment I stepped through the doors and entered the rotunda.

  Though I was the teacher, Drew served as our host as we meandered through the museum. He offered a knowledgeable take on the different paintings and sculptures, even the building itself. Both Jonathan and I listened with fascination as he spoke about the lives of the different artists. He knew things I didn’t know and made a conscientious and well-informed guide for our visit.

  After lunch we strolled through the 134,000-square-foot sculpted garden. No words were needed. It was a feast for the soul just to be amidst such natural beauty. The Pacific sparkled off in the distance as the sun blazed high through another cloudless afternoon.

  “This is beautiful,” I whispered as I walked along the path.

  Drew smiled down at me. “Do I get an A for the suggestion, Miss Dennehy?”

  I returned the smile. “A+.”

  By the time the museum closed at five o’clock that afternoon, they practically had to drag me away from the Masters collection. I could have stared at those paintings for days. I bought a few postcards from the gift shop, just to have a piece of them with me. Though I was still miffed at Nancy, I bought her a few trinkets as well. I knew I’d get over our spat by the time I got back to Texas. Her motives were genuine, though misguided.

  Plus I needed a peace offering if I was going to pull up roots and move to Los Angeles for the indeterminate future. As each day passed, I realized that was becoming more and more of a possibility.

  We stopped at a vegan restaurant on the way home. Though I was a happy omnivore, I was willing to try new things, especially when it came to food. I was surprised to find that I
actually liked the food so much I didn’t even miss the meat or the dairy. We split a pizza and topped of the meal with a brownie bowl for dessert, dripping decadently with a dairy-free ice cream alternative.

  This time I was the one practically licking the bowls clean. Both the Fullerton men at the table found this hilarious, and teased me mercilessly as we drove back to the house.

  Drew had opted to take us personally in his luxury SUV, which was a sight better than being driven around by Harrison. As sweet as he was, it was slightly embarrassing for me to exit the back seat of a car driven by my own personal chauffeur.

  I was still a teacher, for God’s sake. This was not my life.

  But it could be, I thought to myself. Sands were falling in the hourglass and I would soon have to make a decision on whether or not I wanted to take this job permanently.

  After days like this one, it was a no-brainer.

  Jonathan begged us to play a game of Scrabble, and of course neither Drew nor I would have denied him. We played for nearly an hour before Drew soundly whipped both our butts. By then, we were all exhausted and ready to call it a day.

  Again I started to follow Jonathan from the room, but this time Drew halted me.

  “Miss Dennehy, may I speak to you privately before you retire for the evening?” Drew asked.

  I glanced down at Jonathan, who was equally baffled by the request. Finally I nodded that Jonathan should go on and I lagged behind, following Drew out into his paneled study. He closed the door behind me before heading to his ornate mahogany bar with a marble top and brass accents. “May I pour you a drink?” he asked casually.

  I shook my head. “No, thank you,” I declined politely.

  He nodded toward the leather couch that overlooked the tall windows facing the garden. “Please. Have a seat.”

  “Am I in trouble?” I asked as I did as he directed.

  He shook his head. “To the contrary, in fact.” I held my breath as he joined me on the sofa. “I thought we could speak privately about the future.”

  This was it, I thought. I was either going to get a job offer or one-way ticket back to Dallas. I clasped my hands in my lap and I waited.

  “Obviously I had some concerns when I first arrived,” he started. “It’s always a risk bringing someone new into the home, and we’ve been burned before.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “But after watching you interact with Jonathan, I do see a connection there that has been missing up until now. It’s a connection that he desperately needs, and I think you can agree.”

  Again I nodded.

  “Any remaining concerns I have about your taking a permanent position with the family tie directly to this connection. While it is a positive thing now, I worry that he might become too attached to you in the future. He’s not an entire class full of children that will move up a grade at the end of the year. What happens in a year or two, if you decide you want to return to Texas or settle down with a family of your own? I just don’t think he can handle that type of abandonment again. Not after what his mother has done.”

  I nodded. I understood what he was saying. “You want a long-term commitment.”

  “I want what’s best for my son,” he corrected. “Right now that means you. But if you don’t see yourself staying with the position long-term, then perhaps it would be better if you just leave now, before he gets more attached.”

  I found the thought of leaving Jonathan unbearably depressing. He wasn’t the only one who had become attached over the past few days. I knew my world was richer for having Jonathan in it. I said as much to Drew. “I don’t know what the future will hold. But I do know that I would never do anything to purposefully hurt Jonathan, or any child.”

  His eyes were piercing as he examined my face for any hint of insincerity. “But what happens when you have children of your own?”

  I looked away. “That is not an issue.”

  “Why not?”

  I looked back. It was an intensely personal question, but I answered it anyway. “I won’t be having any children.”

  He appeared taken aback by my declaration. “May I ask why?”

  “No,” I said quietly.

  He was even more confused, but did not pry. “I would like to offer you this position, Miss Dennehy. The first contract, as you are aware, sets a term of one year, at which time we can reconvene and renegotiate as necessary.”

  I nodded that I understood. “I can commit to a year,” I said.

  “Good,” he said as he rose to grab a folder from his desk. It was the contract, with other specifics spelled out, such as medical benefits and the eye-popping salary of $150,000 payable in advance. It seemed astronomical to me. Even when I researched what private schoolteachers made in some of the wealthier parts of Los Angeles, it nearly doubled what many could expect in the same profession.

  Given that I wouldn’t have to pay room and board, this put nearly all of that money in my pocket, truly making it an offer I would have been an idiot to refuse.

  But I was quick to learn it came with a significant catch. Now attached to that contract for employment was a non-disclosure amendment. Anything that I learned while living in the house, whether personal or business, I was bound by the contract to keep to myself or be sued for the entire sum of my salary. “Loyalty is a main priority for me, Miss Dennehy,” he informed me. “I reward it handsomely. And I have zero tolerance if it is broken.”

  “I understand,” I said as I glanced over the agreement. It was clear that, especially with his high-profile divorce proceedings, he wasn’t about to risk any critical information leaking to the public.

  “Like I said, I’ve been burned before,” he said.

  It made me think of the starlet who had tried to extort money from him. Clearly this wasn’t a mistake he was going to make again. Still, a red flag went up immediately. This didn’t feel like just a job anymore. I felt like I was joining the military, the mafia… or a cult. “I would like time to think about it,” I said.

  It was his turn to nod. “Take your time. Consult with a lawyer if you wish. But I would like an answer by week’s end, just so I can find a replacement if you decide to decline.”

  I gathered the folder and retired to the guest room. I was up until well past midnight reading the fine print of the contract. It looked straightforward enough.

  So why did I feel I was signing away my soul to the Fullerton family?

  It took two days of deliberation before I finally made my choice, and it had everything to do with Jonathan. The closer I got to leaving him, the more painful it was.

  For the second time in my life, I was willing to risk it all for a child that had completely and utterly captured my heart.

  The signed copy of my contract was on Drew’s desk by that Friday, when I flew back to Texas to tie up loose ends and officially close that long, painful chapter of my life at last.

  Chapter Nine

  “May I pour you a drink, Rachel?” Drew asked as I sat on the supple leather sofa in his warmly paneled study. I offered a small smile as I nodded. Normally I didn’t drink, but I felt like celebrating. Everything was going well in my new position as Jonathan’s teacher, so well that Drew and I had gone back to calling each other by our first names.

  I watched him as he stood at the bar in one corner of the room, his back to the French doors that led off toward the sculpted gardens in the back yard. He wore a snug pair of dress pants and a white dress shirt opened at the collar. I could see just a hint of dark hair on his chest, which his unbuttoned shirt no longer concealed.

  I felt something in my belly fire to life like an old furnace. Out of sheer embarrassment, I looked away, but it was a second too late. I knew from that victorious smirk on his face he had caught me staring at his body.

  Why he felt this was funny, I had no idea. So I asked. “What’s so funny?”

  He walked around the bar and headed toward the sofa with two crystal snifters of brandy. “You think that�
��s the first time I caught you staring at me, Rachel?”

  I flushed hot as I looked away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He rested his arm along the back of the sofa, near enough to touch a tendril of my hair with his long fingers. “I think you do,” he said softly.

  I gulped back a swallow of that strong amber elixir, which helped me look him in the eye… eyes so blue I thought I could see forever. When his eyes traveled across my face to light ever so briefly on my lips, I felt my stone cold resolve start to slip. I moved away from him, but he caught my ponytail in one hand and released my hair in a chestnut curtain around my shoulders.

  “I’ve been waiting to do that since the day we met,” he murmured before he ran his fingers through my hair. I shivered in spite of myself.

  “How long has it been, Rachel,” he asked softly. “How long has it been since you were touched… held… kissed?”

  I couldn’t answer. I was frozen stiff within his gaze. I couldn’t move as his head tilted toward mine.

  Worse, I didn’t want to move. I felt the heat of his body as he sat so close to mine. Those strong arms were a heartbeat away. I ached to feel them around me. I ached to feel his warm mouth cover my own.

  The minute he kissed me, I nearly melted into a pool of goo. My mouth opened and his tongue probed deep within my mouth, toying with my tongue until my arms slipped around his neck and I was kissing him back.

  How long had I wanted to do this? I couldn’t even begin to remember as I felt him press me back against the sofa.

  Our drinks were forgotten on the table as we tangled together, his hands in my hair, my fingernails dug into his powerful back, as he fit himself between my legs. I felt him hard against me as he ground against me.

  My insides immediately went up in flames, and heat threatened to consume me. Alarms went off in my head, strident buzzing alarms that demanded I stop this behavior at once before it got out of control.

  This sense of urgency pulled me right out of that study in Beverly Hills and landed me square in my single bed in Grand Prairie, Texas.