I read until Momma falls asleep, then I set the book aside, give her a kiss on the forehead, and leave her be. She needs her rest if she’s going to get better. If there’s any way at all for her to get better. I keep hanging on to that hope.
Carefully, I pick up Emma, who has also dozed off—apparently Wuthering Heights isn’t the most exciting read for infants. Her head lolls a bit as I slide her back into the carrier, facing me this time so she can curl up against my chest. She makes a few soft sounds but doesn’t wake up.
As I head out into the hallway, I’m so caught up thinking about Momma and Emma that I almost slam right into a woman coming the opposite way down the hall. I swing to the side just in time.
“’Scuse me,” I say and offer a smile, and then she turns to acknowledge the apology and freezes in her tracks.
I freeze too. It’s Chloe. She’s wearing a grey pencil skirt, nude pumps, and a white blouse. Her black hair is piled on her head in a messy bun. It’s as though she heard my unspoken prayers for her to wear a sexy librarian outfit. Goddamn.
“Austin?” she says, eyes wide.
“Nice to see you, Doc.” Or should I call you Teach?
“Um…yeah.” She collects herself a little more quickly than I do and smooths a hand down the front of her skirt. “What are you doing here?”
To visit my dying mom.
Her question punctures the happiness growing in my chest. The truth is just too damn depressing to say out loud. Before I can consider what I want to tell her, I’m already answering, and I’m not telling her the truth. I’ve also moved all the way out of the space where everything comes out Southern fried.
“I come by every once in a while. It’s a thing for charity. You know.”
She doesn’t look convinced. “Doesn’t the team usually do that as a group?”
“Sometimes. I like to do it on my own from time to time. You know—keep it on the down low.”
“Charity visits with your baby?” She glances at Emma with a smile.
“Why are you here?”
“I volunteer here. I do twice a month here and then twice a month at the long-term rehab facility downtown.”
“You sure are busy. No wonder you never answer my text messages.”
Her eyebrow quirks up. That’s why I like to piss her off—she’s damn sexy when she’s giving me that look.
“I didn’t answer your messages because they weren’t appropriate.”
I lean a little closer. “What about the other day in the hot tub? Was that appropriate? I’m thinking no.”
Her face goes bright red—God, I love it when she blushes like that—and she pushes past me, heading for the lobby. I follow her all the way out as she heads through the front door and into the parking lot.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
She rolls her eyes. “Austin.”
“What? It’s an innocent question.”
“Nothing’s ever innocent with you.”
“What about Emma?”
Emma makes a babbling noise at the sound of her name, capturing Chloe’s attention, who melts at my baby’s smile. “Are you using your baby to get on my good side?”
“How’s it working?”
Pretty fucking well, from the look on her face.
“You’re not playing fair.”
“All’s fair in love and war.”
Chloe lets out an exasperated sigh before stepping away from Emma and turning back toward her car.
“Are you hungry? There’s a nice diner a couple blocks from here. We could have lunch. Or they have a great Sunday brunch if you want to try that.”
“No.” She continues toward her car.
Emma lets out a plaintive cry the moment Chloe takes a step away.
“Come on. You’re making my baby cry.”
Her eyes narrow. “Not cool, Sherwood.”
“She’s insulted that you won’t join us for lunch. Can you blame her?”
She whirls around, hands on her hips. “Austin, the answer is no.”
“They make an awesome eggs Benedict.”
“Too high fat.”
“Live a little, Doc.”
She chews her lip, her eyes softening whenever she glances at Emma. “Fine. Just promise me you’ll behave yourself.”
I make an exaggerated “X” over my heart. “I promise.”
Her pumps crack loudly on the pavement as we begin the two-block walk toward the diner. I can’t take my eyes off the sway of Chloe’s hips. Something about the knit of her skirt makes them cling just right to the curve of her pert little ass every time she takes a step. Her heels are just high enough to add a sassy little sway, but not so high that she looks awkward or unprofessional. Not that I would object to a pair of six-inch stilettos on her.
She still seems hesitant when we walk in and take a seat at one of the tables. Emma babbles as I take her off the carrier and settle her down on the booth next to me. I open a menu and glance over the offerings.
“You’re serious about the eggs Benedict?” she asks.
“Of course. I never joke about eggs and Hollandaise.”
“What kinds of sauces do you joke about?”
Did she make a joke? “Well, there’s a sauce I use all the time that’s frequently the butt of jokes.”
She leans across the table, interested. “Oh yeah?”
“It’s homemade. Thick. Juicy. I’ve been told that it tastes creamy and salty.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Like Alfredo sauce?”
“Sort of. Except you have to tug on the bottle real good to get the sauce out.”
She makes a face as she finally realizes I’m talking about my cock. “You’re disgusting.”
But one corner of her mouth tucks back in a half-grin before she lifts the menu in front of her burning face. The waitress comes back, and Chloe orders the eggs while I order a turkey sandwich.
She glares at me. “I only came here so we could talk.”
“What’s up?”
“You made me a promise that you’d lay off, but you’re still sending me nasty text messages and staring at my ass when I walk in front of you.”
“How would you know I’m staring at your ass? Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”
“I assume a guy who signs his texts with heart emojis is probably staring at my ass any chance he gets.”
You’re not wrong. “Can I point out the obvious? You kissed me back.”
“It was an accident!”
“What, like you tripped and fell?” I try a shit-eating grin, but she’s not budging. “Why are you so stubborn about this?”
“I need my job. And frankly, I don’t like football players. At all.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t just dismiss everybody who’s ever touched a football.”
“I can and I do. Okay, I don’t hate football players. But I’m not dating one ever again. And that includes you.”
I jump on that little revelation. “Oh, so you—”
“—I explained this to you. If I date you, or do anything unprofessional with you, my boss could fire me, and he’d be right. I’m a professional, and I need to act like one. That means no flirty text messages with a dozen different fucking heart emojis, no impromptu lunches, and definitely no sex.”
“How am I supposed to express myself if I can’t use emojis?”
“You’ve done plenty of expressing yourself.” Red spots rise high on her cheeks again.
“I don’t think so. For starters, I haven’t told you that your librarian outfit is smoking hot.”
Her mouth parts. “Austin.”
“Why do you hate football players?” I break in, then, before she can protest the interruption. “Or maybe the better question is why do you do PT for football players if you hate us so much?”
She’s quiet for a moment, playing with the edge of her napkin. “It was an ex-boyfriend.”
“Ah. Well, that makes sense.”
Her gaze meets mine, h
alf hard, half sad. For a second I regret pushing her, but only for a second. I need to know what’s going on with her.
Finally she blurts, “I used to date Mason Carter. Is that enough information? Or do I need to go into details?”
“Oh. Wow.” Yeah, I recognize the name. He used to be pretty hot shit. “That must have been…a few years ago?”
“Yeah. I was his physical therapist, too.”
She’s looking me dead in the eye now, and I know she’s going to hit me as hard as she can with this story. Fine. Let her get it off her chest.
“And he damn near destroyed my career.”
“I know he got hurt…”
“Yes. He did. And I worked on his rehabilitation. I was his PT for that entire season. We worked together so well, and we ended up dating, and then when he really got hurt, he refused to follow my regimen. He blew his knee to hell and back, and then he blamed it on me.”
She stops dead, blinking hard. This time I don’t say anything at all. I remember Mason’s retirement, and I saw the press conference where he threw his PT under the bus. Of course, I had no idea that was Chloe. A few things start to make sense now.
“But…you’re still a PT. You’re doing great, right?”
“It took me a long time to recover from that. Personally and professionally. I thought I was never going to get a job in the sports field again. So I had to start over from scratch. If he hadn’t had that car accident, I’d still be fighting to get my credibility back.”
“The one where he was over the limit?”
“Yeah. Booze and pot.” She shakes her head. “He never did anything halfway, that’s for sure.”
I reach over and take her hand, and surprisingly, she lets me. Her fingers squeeze mine lightly.
“After that, people didn’t believe him as easily, and some of the hubbub around me died down. A couple of the team doctors even spoke up for me when I was looking for work after that, and I finally got back on an even keel.”
“I’m glad you did. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here, right?”
She pulls her hand back a little sharply. “Come on, Sherwood. You’re refusing to do what I tell you, and you’re coming on to me like you think I should just crawl right onto your dick. Because of course you do. You’ve got women in every city, just like he did. And if anything actually happened between us, you’d go right on to the next game and call the next name out of your little black book, just like he did.”
“Chloe, not everybody’s like that. Believe it or not, some football players aren’t Neanderthal-like hunchbacks with shit for brains. Some of us know a good thing when we see it.”
I wonder if I told her a little too much there. I decide I don’t care. I do know a good thing when I see it, and Chloe’s one of the best things I’ve seen in a long time.
“I can’t risk it, Austin.” She actually sounds a little regretful. Maybe I’ve gotten to her, after all. “Not professionally, not personally.”
“So just because one guy was an asshole to you, you’re never going to allow even a little bit of fun into your life? You’re what, going to take a vow of chastity?”
Her mouth turns up, almost into a smile. “I can have fun. Just not with you.”
We’ll see about that.
At that point, we’re interrupted when Emma starts wiggling and trying to sit up. I have to divert my attention since I don’t want her to roll off the booth and hurt herself. She’s fussy—pretty natural after a good long nap. I try to get her to settle in my lap, but she’s having none of it.
“Can I take her?” Chloe asks, holding her arms out.
I hesitate. Not because I’m afraid Chloe won’t know how to handle Emma, but more because I’m afraid if she realizes what a chore babies really are, she might double down on her irrational desire to not date me. Then Emma looks up, sees Chloe, and her little arms shoot out. It’s like there’s a magnet pulling her across the table. If she gets any wigglier, she’s going to wriggle right out of my hands and into the eggs Benedict.
I get awkwardly to my feet and pass Emma across the table. Chloe takes her, and Emma immediately calms down, laying her head on Chloe’s shoulder and playing with her hair while she says, “Ba ba ba,” over and over again. I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, but from the way she’s acting it must be a compliment.
The waitress comes by just then, bringing our bill. She takes one look at Emma and gets googly-eyed, as many women tend to do when they see babies.
“Aww, she’s precious!” she says. “The two of you must be so proud.”
“We’re—” Chloe starts, then she stops, smiles a little, and instead says, “She’s a great kid. Really.”
Emma reaches a hand out to the waitress, grinning wide, and the waitress takes hold of one finger and shakes solemnly. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
She drops our bill on the table. “I hope you guys have a great day.” She gives us another adoring look. “What a beautiful family.”
Again, Chloe looks like she might be about to say something, but in the end she doesn’t. She just smiles and says, “You have a great day, too.”
I can’t help but smile. They look perfect together. Almost like mother and daughter. Something warm moves in my chest. I’m pretty sure it’s not a heart attack, so it must be sentiment.
Or something stronger. I shake that thought aside. The one that follows isn’t much less intense. I want this woman in my family. And so, apparently, does my daughter.
I pay the bill, overriding Chloe’s insistence that we go Dutch. She’s occupied enough with Emma that she doesn’t put up much of a fight. While I’m signing the credit card slip, my phone dings.
I glance at the message—it’s an alert from my daily calendar. “Shit,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong?” Chloe asks.
“I just forgot I’m supposed to meet Emma’s nanny. She’s expecting me back at the hospice.”
“Oh. We’d better get going then.”
“Yep.”
I think about asking for Chloe to hand Emma back, but she seems content, so I just grab the carrier and we head out. Chloe plays with my baby, pointing out the trees and birds, a cloud that looks like a hippopotamus. I’ve never seen Emma so engaged with a woman before other than my mom. Emma likes my sister, but it’s nothing like this. And with Megan—well, it’s like my baby already knows Megan isn’t all that invested in being her mom.
It’s amazing to me that this woman could come out of nowhere and become important so quickly, not just to me, but to my daughter. I have no idea what I’m going to do about that.
As we approach the nanny’s car, Genevieve gets out and comes to meet us. She’s French, in her mid-twenties, and came very highly recommended. She’s also expensive, but that’s fine with me as long as Emma’s well taken care of.
Emma loves Genevieve. But now, when she sees her, Emma’s lower lip starts poking out.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Chloe says as Genevieve reaches to take the baby.
“She likes you very much,” Genevieve says, giving Chloe an approving glance. Then she looks at me, and the expression in her dark eyes is inscrutable. I don’t really speak French, but it seems to me like that look is telling me I need to man up and do something about the fact that my daughter has bonded with an adult woman who cares about her.
As if to confirm Genevieve’s statement, Emma starts to cry. When Genevieve eases her from Chloe’s grip, the crying rises to a strident wail.
“Oh honey, I bet you’ve just got a nap hangover,” Chloe offers as she pats Emma’s back.
“She will be fine,” Genevieve says, and then gives me another look.
Don’t worry. I’m on it.
Chloe makes a sound with her tongue. “Poor thing.”
“She and Genevieve get along great.” I pause. “She just…really seems to like you.”
“I like her, too.”
We watch as Genevieve buckles Emma into her car seat, and then we wave as
she drives away. The sound of the car’s engine fades as it disappears from view. Silence hovers between us like an electric cloud.
I fall into step beside Chloe as she walks back to her car, our footsteps echoing in the deserted parking lot. A breeze plays with her hair, tossing black strands over her face. She stops and turns around, her pink lips parted. Her pleading eyes tug at my heart. Before she can say anything, I take her arms and crowd her back against the driver’s side door.
“Austin—” she starts, but I cut her off with my mouth on hers. Whatever she was going to say, she tries to still say it, but it disappears against my tongue.
I can taste the coffee in her mouth, and I press closer. My hands go to her waist and then slide under the edge of her shirt. Her skin is warm and soft, and I want more of it under my hands. Her breasts mound against my chest as she presses closer, and then she utters a soft moan in my mouth.
She kisses me back, digging her fingernails into the back of my neck. Every touch of her soft lips is like a small explosion, bursting fire across my chest. I’m going to yank her inside that car to rip off every strip of clothing.
She pulls back as though she heard my thoughts. “We can’t. We really can’t.”
I stroke her hair from her slightly swollen lips, looking down into her eyes. God, she’s so beautiful. “Sure we can. No one from work is here.”
She pushes me away, but she’s not trying very hard, and I don’t move. Her tits are still smashed against me, and I reach up, stroking the side of one. We’re in broad daylight, but there’s nobody around, and we’re so close together I doubt anybody could see what I’m doing anyway.
“We both could benefit from a little fun.”
She shakes her head, looking anywhere but at me. “I can’t get involved with you.”
“Look, Chloe.” I manage to ease my fingers under the curve of her breast, stroking. “It doesn’t have to be serious. We don’t have to get engaged, for God’s sake. We can just have some fun. No strings.”
“No strings?”
“Yeah. I think you need some fun. Something that’ll take you out of your head and let you relax. Like…dragging you into the back seat of this car right now.”
Hot as Sin (Contemporary Romance Box Set) Page 9
