We’re forehead to forehead, both of us covered in perspiration and panting like we’ve run a marathon. The sliver of light makes out a few planes of his silhouetted face while I’m desperately trying to find some cooler air to breathe under the heat we’ve generated. “Please,” I say again, my voice is embarrassing, gravelly gasps. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m really sorry.”

“Why are you being so polite? Please don’t be so polite, and for Christ’s sake, do not apologize.”

“Look,” I whisper, leaning my back against the wall.

“Look at what?” he whispers and a new wave of shivers hits my neck. “Hard to see anything straight with the bright stars you just put behind my eyes, girl.” He trails the back of his hands over both of my cheeks. “But I bet if I could see you right now, I’d lose it.” He brushes a knuckle over my mouth, pulling away a strand of my sweaty, curling hair that had clung there. “And damn those pouty sexy lips have got to look twice as hot now that they’re are all swollen. Bet that faraway, dreamy look in your eyes would undo me. Christ…one more kiss. Just one, or two more. This time with the lights on.” He’s suddenly raining kisses down my neck again, and my head’s already fallen back, my hands are already finding his waist as he pulls me up against him hard as he asks, “Don’t you want to try a little more, see where this goes??”

“Oh. No,” I croak. “Please. I, uh don’t want to, so…no, thank you. Please. Let’s not. Please.”

It’s the biggest lie I’ve ever uttered in my life.

He pulls back away from me again, groaning like he’s in pain. “Do you know I’ve never had a girl beg me not to have sex with her? You just sounded like you were passing at a plate of spinach.”

I try to speak louder and make my voice sound true and clear. “Well, I’m not just a random girl. I’m Robin.”

“I know.” He chuckles. “I’ve known all along. I was only pretending not to know you.” He steps closer so our bodies are fitting together again. His hand moves more hair off my face. “Robin.” His lips come dangerously close to mine so I can feel his breath on them when he whispers, “Robin…who’s an amazing kisser. Robin…who was robbin’ my leather jacket out of my closet.” He chuckles at his own bad joke. “Do you think you’re the first staff member to try to take my stuff, or trade sex for—special favors?”

“Whoa-no-I-wasn’t,” is all I can say trying to back away from him, but the wall is in the way and his arms hold me fast.

His arm snakes to the side and gets the door to open a little wider. More light filters across his beautiful face as he stares down at mine like he’s trying to read my expression. “What’s your deal? I caught you red handed. Sue me for having a little fun.” Releasing his grip on me, he crosses his arms over his chest, making him more intimidating. “You’re the one who snuck in here, and you won’t deny that you’d meant to keep my favorite, Spanish leather, hand-sewn, three-thousand-dollar jacket! I hate when my shit disappears and then shows up on eBay for sale.”

I shake my head, trying to get my words to turn into sentences and the bones back into my legs. “Three thousand dollars…for one jacket?”

“That’s what I paid for it, but at a charity auction my last favorite leather jacket went for thousands. Rolling Stone had already called the jacket you were taking from me iconic, so it’s probably worth much more. My wardrobe team wants me to retire it though. I’m getting a whole new look in a few weeks for the next tour, so I guess you can have it, thief.”

“I wasn’t stealing! Nor would I ever sell your things to strangers. I was getting some clothing of yours to wrap around the baby. How was I supposed to know it was so valuable? I was only looking for something that smelled just right. Something with your soapy, manly-musky scent imbedded all over it. The jacket fit my requirements and then some. I—I—told you. When you asked me what I was doing? B-b-before we. Uh. Kissed.” I feel my cheeks heat to fire and my voice drops to a whisper, “I told you that I was smelling it.”

“What? Why?” He’s scratching his head, looking at me like I’m mental.

“I wanted the baby to be able to smell you up close all day long, so she could subconsciously, like—memorize you. So maybe she would think you were holding her. Even if you don’t want to bond with her yet, she’s so little that she might not know the difference and lock on to your smell. Yesterday, you said I was the one in charge of the baby bonding. You said to do my job.” I drop my voice and the words tumble out too fast, “Maybe in hindsight, I do sound crazy, but this is what zookeepers do for abandoned baby animals. Because if a parent just abandons a baby like how you’re doing, it could stop eating, fail to thrive, and maybe fail to grow and all kinds of terrible… things.”

He blinks down at me like his brain function equals mine on its levels of max-overdrive, but I can only hope he’s heard what I’m saying.

“What you must think about me, Robin Love.” He blinks more. “That…that… I’ve abandoned my baby, that I’m the kind of guy that would make out with the nanny.”

I shrug, not denying his words and his expression collapses some. Suddenly he’s not so fierce looking at all. Like we both know it’s too depressing to go forward with the direction he took the conversation, I go on, lamely talking about the jacket, “I thought the leather would be perfect because it’s like real skin. As I was holding it for a few seconds it became warm and soft against my cheek, which made it smell even more amazing, and I had this sensation that you were right there, so I thought it was perfect. I r-r-really wasn’t stealing it.”

The shaking in my legs has transferred to my voice as I realize what I’ve just done in this closet, with my boss. And then I’m thinking about he thought about me. That he thought I was the kind of girl who would make out with him to trade him for a jacket and so I strive even harder to explain myself. To justify my actions. “You m-m-must know that how y-y-you s-s-smell is really distinctive. I’ll bet you purposefully f-f-force-field yourself daily in that cloud of attractive, reel-them-in, girl-bait that’s on your skin. Forgive me if I’m not immune to that stuff, because despite the part where I’m a staff member, I am only human, and just a normal g-g-girl, after all.”

I put my hands over my heart to try to still the pounding and the fight goes out of me as I whisper again, “Oh. God. I’m so sorry.”

He makes this strangled sound, and when his eyes go over me with that unreadable silver gaze of his, I’m instantly covered in goose bumps again. I press the back of my hand against my lips because I think he’s staring at them, and I’m suddenly too aware that they feel swollen, raw. Hot.

When I look to see if maybe his lips look how mine feel, I think he groans like he’s in pain again, then drags me out of the closet with him. “Your story is so whacked that I actually believe you. And if that’s the case, I’ve made another huge mistake where you are concerned, and I probably owe you yet another apology. Okay? I’m the one who is sorry. Not you.”

I squint as he flips on the light in his entryway.

“I should have asked,” I say, getting control of my shaking and my voice. “But since we did promise not to speak to each other again after our last argument, I thought I could tiptoe in here and handle my business while the baby slept. Although you never seem to really worry about her, please know, I’ve got the baby on a monitor. I’m still watching after her even now, and your daughter is just fine.”

He puts his hands up to the sides of his head, those lightning-hot eyes locking on to mine, as his own realizations and impacts of what we just did, seem to finally slam into him. “We…we…we almost. You know. Shit!”

“I know, but we didn’t,” I say in my lightest voice, trying to play it all off with a shrug and a little “oops” expression. “Like everything else that involves interacting with you, I’ve once again proven I’m out of my element up here in this penthouse. If only we could rewind the clock, huh? So sorry.”

“Stop trying to apologize!” he yells, still holding my gaze hostage. “You call what we just did interacting? Why did you kiss me like you just kissed me?” He shakes his head when I shrug again. “What we just did in there was beyond. Explain to me what in the hell just happened, because this kind of shit does not happen to me, my body or my mind.”

“You think I can explain it? You’re the one with the mind-bending make-out skills, and you’re the one with those lips and hands that were just everywhere, making me melt. Unable to think. And then you had me up against the wall. And that was so—um, well…” A nervous, shaking laugh escapes me, and I start trying to smooth my tangled hair. “I guess I can be honest, it was exciting and astounding because no one has ever—and I mean ever done that kiss-me-against-a wall-thing to me before and, I read it in books once or twice and so...” I glance up at him and the way his eyes are going over me makes me forget what I’m saying.

Which is good, because what in the hell am I saying to him? That I read books? Oh. God.

“Would you stop looking at me like I’m some sort of alien?” I ask, instead.

“I’m not. Am I? Christ. I just feel really bad right now.”

I'm blushing so hard again the tips of my ears hurt. I get a little more angry with him, and then, I get even more angry with myself. “Think how bad I feel that I almost handed my V-card to a guy who I can hardly stand.”

“What?”

“I’m saying this stuff doesn’t happen to me, either. I’m a master at control and planning.” I give up on fixing my hair and fling my arms wide. “I have years and years of stockpiled dreams about how I want my first time to be, and….” I shove a thumb over my shoulder toward the closet. “And it’s not supposed to be like that.”

“First time?” he whispers.

“Yes. It’s supposed to be magical, and full of actual love. White rose petals should at least be somewhere if not everywhere in the room. A room with the exact right music playing, some candles lit, and I think I’m supposed to be in Paris. London or Barcelona, slightly tipsy on a bubbling wine, all while wearing sultry perfume and a great outfit like a red dress or a little black dress even, but definitely not bad shorts and a t-shirt that’s half covered in baby formula, okay? And it will happen after I’ve had an amazing perfect date with my long-term boyfriend who, by the way, won’t be anyone’s baby-daddy, and he will have just escorted me up the Eiffel Tower or to that fancy church that Gaudi built. You know? The one that looks like melting sand? La…La…”

“I don’t think you should drop your V-card after visiting La Sagrada Familia. It would ruin the mood. That’s one strange looking church.”

I gasp. “You know the name of that church?”

“I have other interests beyond music. You like Gaudi?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, and yes, I love Gaudi.”

I look up at him and his expression flashes just as wild and confused as I feel, and suddenly he and I are both laughing a little, but in truth, we both sound slightly hysterical.

“Whatever!” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “And wherever. But with much more set-up than what we almost did, for what is supposed to be one of my most meaningful and epic life events. Okay?” Another half-hysterical laugh escapes me as he nods. “That was about to be a zero-love, on the floor of a closet, sex with an almost stranger, pressed into a whole pile of smelly man-shoes, regret-fest.”

“Regret fest…” He nods, and he’s looking at me so oddly again, and I could swear he’s gone pale under that golden skin of his.

“So you agree. On the regrets?”

“Yes. Of course. I…have… regrets.”

I try to nod just as confidently as he did, hoping he can’t see through my mask, because if I’m being completely honest, the regret I’m feeling right now has nothing to do with what just happened and has everything to do with how we didn’t keep on kissing!

I busy myself with trying, then failing, to wind my damp tangled hair up into knotted bun. Just when I think I’ve got it, it all flops out to roll instantly down my back into a long mess again.

When the silence between us stretches out too long, or maybe it’s when his damn silver-icy-hot eyes feel like they’re about to finally burn my skin, he turns away and places his forehead against the wall and pounds it there a couple of times. “What the hell is wrong with me?” He asks, but he’s not talking to me, he’s talking to himself. “After countless promises to the guys, Gregory, and my own grandmother, I just made out with the jailbait nanny, who apparently is also a virgin. Do you understand, that where you’re concerned, I am now going to hell. Straight to hell.”

When the baby monitor goes off as the baby turns and squeaks one of her adorable little half cries, then settles again, he turns back.

“Straight to, hell,” he only repeats, shaking his head.

My heart tightens as I come all the way back to reality—his and mine. “Um…how about how I’m going straight to hell, too? I made out with the boss. I’m a cliché, nanny home-wrecker! There’s a whole crappy movie genre about girls who did what I just did. Worse, I’ve betrayed a baby girl who I love and now I’ve hurt the baby’s mommy. A girl who’s probably counting on you to make things right by her. A girl who’s counting on me to not…suck.” I look down at the floor. “Please don’t tell anyone? Mrs. Felix or Gregory especially, because they would be so disappointed in me. And please don’t fire me. Okay? I’m supposed to get paid Friday and, I know you have every right not to pay me now, I know that. But I really need that money. It’s wrong what I did. You’ve got a kid and an unresolved baby-mom situation going on—so—again—I’m so-so very—”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me again. It’s wrong what I did. I knew it was you and it was so wrong. Okay?”

Nodding, like I agree so we can end this conversation, I turn to leave when this gorgeous, all-legs, perfect hair, and super-curvy girl, one who I don’t recognize wanders into the entryway where we’re standing. But she hasn’t come in from the main door.

She came in from Royce’s back bedroom suite!

She’s wearing this shiny black dress that’s so tight, strapless, and small that I could swear she made it by stitching together two washcloth-sized pieces of see-through shiny fabric and inching it onto her body.

“There you are, Royce.” She gives me a glare, but keeps her voice all sultry. “I was waiting in your bed. Adam told me that would be the best place to surprise you. He even gave me the key.” She giggles. “But you took too long, so surprise.”

“Adam? He did? Well. Shit. I’m not sure what you mean.”

“He said you’d be so surprised,” she purrs out.

Royce’s eyes go wild again, and he gives me a panicked look that I think is telling me not to panic, before calming his expression and layering on the charm for this girl. “Call me surprised, yes, I am. But, hello there, beautiful.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, because I did wait for a very long time.” She licks her pouting lips. “Way too long, but…then you never came. That’s when I heard you here in the closet with this one.” The girl flicks me this scathing, judgmental, but also jealous glare. “I’m not into doing any sort of kinky threesome. I’m also tired of waiting for you two to come out, so I’m going to go. Or…” Her eyes snake over me again, like she finds me lacking. “Or I guess if you’re done slumming you could call me to come back later?” She wrinkles her nose at me. “After you shower, of course. I left my number on your pillow.”

“Wow.” I shake my head at the girl.

“Don’t act all upset,” she says, staring at me and scrunching her nose like I smell bad. “You had your turn.”

“Oh, I’m not upset. Just amazed.”

“So am I,” Royce’s voice stays sexy-low-rumbling, but his eyes have turned deadly. “Can you tell me again, how did you get in here?”

She giggles again. “I met Adam Marcus yesterday on his way to the limo. He was all tipsy and so adorable. I offered to hook up with him, but he told me you needed someone like me. Told me where to go and when to come up here. He even gave me his own special lanyard to show to security so I could get up the elevator and so I got right in, no problem. Look.” She pulls it out from her shiny purse.

“Oh yes. Look at that.” Royce’s entire body has gone rigid, so I can tell he’s freaked, but with a very straight face, Royce gently takes it out of her hand.

“Hey,” she pouts, trying to reach for it back. “He said I could keep it.”

“I’ll get you a special one of your own, with your name on it.” Royce pockets the lanyard. “Our Adam, he’s going to need this one for the show tonight.” Royce manages what looks like a molar-cracking smile. “Which reminds me, I’ve got to get ready, ladies. I think we’re done here for now. Can I escort you both out?”

The girl pouts more as Royce shoots me a wink that I think says play along, something’ that’s really hard to do when all I want to do is punch him. “I’d let you help me get ready,” he says, stroking his hand up the new girl’s arm, before tossing me another look, “but she took everything out of me.”

I gasp. “Oh. My. God. Did you say that, really? You are the worst person alive. Aren’t you?”

Royce nods. “As long as you remember that about me, and not any of the other stuff. Deal?”

“What other stuff did you two do?” Misunderstanding, the girl stamps her foot. “Oh, do I want some of that other stuff to remember, too. It’s not fair. Not fair at all. This was supposed to be my turn.”

It’s all I can do not to put my finger down my throat and gag at this girl. Ew. Ew.

As if Royce can read my mind, he reaches over and pulls the girl under his arm. “Don’t be jealous, gorgeous. I have to save some of myself for the stage. I’ll get you a special VIP backstage pass with your name printed on it for tonight to make up for this mix-up, though. You can hang out after the show. There’s also going to be special front row seats for you. I’ll give you the works, baby. How about that for other stuff to remember. You give me your name and cell, and I’ll be sure you’re on the will-call list. Arrive early, okay?”

“Aw. Really? That’s so nice. Okay.” She gives me another scathing glare, clearly not completely pleased with the consolation-prize he’s offered her.

He winks at her and, I can’t help myself, I blurt out one, loud, “Ew.”

But like he didn’t hear me, he’s whispering stuff deep into her ear, calling her so pretty and telling her thanks for coming up while stroking her cheek with the back of his hand—with the same hand that he used to stroke my cheek while he says, “I’ll walk you out personally. You know, we don’t usually let any girls up here at all. You’re lucky.”

The girl flips her hair and then glares between me and Royce. “But then…why was this girl up here?”

Royce answers, “Her? She’s on the payroll.”

Misunderstanding again, the girl twists her lips and opens her eyes wide at me. “Oh my God. You sleep with all of them? You stay up here?”

I’m shaking my head about to go off when I notice that Royce’s face has paled, like he might regret what he’s said. Worse, I wonder if he thinks I’m going to clarify that I’m the nanny for a baby that no one knows about.

Instead, I do just what my nondisclosure agreement said I’m supposed to do should anyone question me about why I’m here. I don’t disclose. I only shrug and shake my head, waiting for Royce to fix this.

Before he can say anything, the girl slides up to Royce again saying, “You’ve got all of these extra suites up here. I could move in, too. You won’t even have to pay me. And look at me compared to her. Time for an upgrade?”

The girl’s expression changes from pure hatred to one that’s like she’s earned a whole new respect for me as she asks, “They say Royce is like the crystal meth of sex. One time is all you need to become addicted. I’ve heard girls need therapy after they’ve been with him, because no other guy measures up—and I mean in every way.” She moves her pencil drawn brows up and down. “Truth? Or lies?”

“Truth. I do need therapy. So much therapy, and I need it right now. And yes, it’s all because of Royce Devlin,” I answer, my comment gaining a small laugh out of Royce.

“Okay. Well. Let’s not get too personal with any details, okay?” Royce says as he turns into some sort of ninja and manages to disentangle himself from the girl’s roving hands while steering her in the direction of the door by pushing her ahead of him. “Please know the VIP pass doesn’t mean things are going to happen between us as a guarantee. But it does mean I think you’re a really beautiful and a dedicated fan who went the extra mile to help out the band—and—”

Startling both of us, the girl pulls a 180, latches a hand on Royce’s crotch and whispers, “I’m begging you, Royce. Just a few minutes with this.” She jerks her hand hard and he flinches. “It’s all I need. You’re the only Grammy winner from this year I haven’t slept with yet.”

It’s my turn to laugh. And it’s a real laugh. Because for the first time ever, Royce looks shocked, embarrassed, and horrified all at once. Finally, he says, “No time, baby. No time.”

Like it’s not a big thing that she just groped someone and begged to spend time with their body part (as it’s obvious she’s not interested in anything inside Royce’s head) the girl pouts, releases his crotch and grabs her phone out of her purse saying, “I almost forgot. Can we do a selfie, Royce? At least one for all of my wasted time up here?”

Royce reaches out, tugs a long lock of her over-sprayed hair, and manages to deflect the photographs she’s trying to take. “How about one by the elevator? Not here. It’s too dark.”

My stomach feels like it’s a rolling mass of twisting eels. I’m so disgusted by this girl and the way Royce hasn’t yelled at her or anything for how she’s acting, but I cover it by stalking around them both. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just get what I came in here for…”

There’s no un-awkward way to do this, so I square my shoulders and head back inside the closet with the last shreds of my pride. I immediately trip on the discarded jacket and cashmere sweater. I have no memory of how or when these items slipped out of my hands. No memory of that at all. But if an art teacher asked me to sketch the exact planes of each muscle on the front and back of Royce’s amazingly cut torso—even though all of what happened went down in the dark—well, that I could easily remember every bit.

I stumble back out, gritting my teeth as hard as I can and say, “I’ll be keeping these items indefinitely, if you don’t mind,” Flipping my tangles out of my face, making sure to keep my voice cold and impersonal.

“Yes. Sure. Please—” Those glinting, impossible devil’s eyes rake over me as though he’d like to say way more.

Well so would I, starting with: You’ve won. I hate you, Royce Devlin!

“And thanks for the fun.” He winks.

“Smile!” The brunette holds up her phone, again trying to snap selfies. Royce expertly ducks to avoid each and every shot as he propels her out of his room.

I have no other choice but to traipse awkwardly along behind them, because running ahead would just make it all worse. At the end of the hallway, he pushes the brunette toward the elevator.

She glances back at me, glaring even more. “How come I don’t get to have a jacket or something from your closet?”

Rolling my eyes, I turn and head back into the quiet nursery.

I hear his sexy, teasing voice call out loudly in a way that lets me know he wants me to hear his answer: “Plain and simple. She earned that stuff, but you…well…you didn’t. Yet.”

“Yet.” She giggles. “But I will.”

Leaning on the wall just inside the nursery door, I’m upset with myself when his chuckle sets off a new round of shivers down my spine, even though he’s not chuckling with me.

“Okay,” he says. “Fine. For you only, because you’re so beautiful, I’ll agree to a couple. But only once we’re inside the elevator.”

A couple of what? Is he kissing her now?

The girl peals out a bunch of twittering, breathless giggles. “Oh, look at us being all cute in these. Best selfies ever taken for my Instagram.”

Royce chuckles again, and the girl’s voice goes all baby-talk disgusting as she says, “I’ll tweet you this so you can follow me back on all platforms, ‘kay?”

“Kay,” Royce answers, copying her voice.

“And I’ll be backstage waiting tonight. Don’t forget me there.”

“Who could forget you?”

“Not me,” I mutter to myself.

I hear the elevator doors close, and after a long pause, enough time to ensure the elevator is long gone, Royce thankfully does not come into the baby’s room to restart a conversation with me. Instead, from far across the penthouse I hear muffled door slamming, and then, “Adam! Goddamn you, Adam. Where the hell are you?”

The baby makes a little sound, and when I walk over to her crib, my heart breaks in half when she smiles up at me, happy as usual. Because…yeah. Poor little baby. Her life sucks, her dad sucks, and now her nanny sucks, too. So much for me wondering if her dad was the kind of person who had honor, when in fact I’ve also got none! I’ve lowered myself to Royce’s level.

Lower.

Putting my fingers over my kiss-bruised lips, I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better,” I mutter.

When the baby laughs next, moisture crowds the edges of my eyes. “What have I done?”