Chapter Eight
When Tuesday rolled around, Adam felt like he’d been a week without sleep. It took everything in him not to bail on Cara. At lunchtime, he made a list of goals for his future, and since giving Charlie a family was on it, he arrived at Mario’s just before eight o’clock. Adam pulled one of the double doors open, letting an older couple go first. The man thanked him before putting his hand to the small of the woman’s back. Watching the gesture reminded him of how he missed the little things in a relationship: the hand holding, kisses good night, and casual touches taken for granted.
He let the door close behind him, and on his sentimental thoughts, and waited for the host to greet him.
Dressed in black pants and a dress shirt, a man smiled welcomingly. “For one?”
“Actually, I’m meeting someone, so I’ll just head to the bar,” Adam said, looking to the left and seeing that other than two guys and the bartender, there was no one else sitting there.
“Certainly,” the host said, gesturing for Adam to go ahead.
He sat on one of the stools and breathed deeply. Hell of a day and he still didn’t know how things were going to turn out with William Barton. He’d managed to run into the restaurant owner accidentally on purpose. They’d had drinks at the hotel bar and talked briefly. He’d snagged Yankees tickets and left them for Barton the following day, and the man had texted a thank you. Adam was waiting another day before following up. He needed this account.
“Get you a drink?” The bartender was dressed the same as the host but looked closer to college age.
“I’ll wait, thanks. I’m meeting someone.”
The kid nodded and went back to the other end of the bar. Mario’s had great Italian food. If the drinks went well, he wouldn’t mind grabbing something to eat. He’d missed lunch, and his stomach was angrily voicing its protest to that.
He checked his phone. Eight oh three. Not too late, but still late. He started a text to Megan but deleted it. It was becoming a habit, texting her more and more. One he needed to break. It was hard enough for Charlie to be attached to her. Not that he was getting attached in any way. It was just…surprisingly easy to talk to her, to bounce ideas off her. But she was still pissed at him for his behavior on Friday. Adam realized he didn’t like when Megan was mad at him but didn’t want to examine why too closely. Besides, he couldn’t apologize for wanting his son to be safe, for needing to know he was safe the way he needed air in his lungs.
Seeing Charlie on the horse had dropped his stomach to his shoes. Megan didn’t understand because she wasn’t a parent. And maybe she’d never fallen off a horse she hadn’t wanted to be on in the first place. Bitterness swept through him at the memory.
He forced his mind back to Megan. It wasn’t a difficult push…his thoughts seemed to wander to her more often lately. Which irritated him because he was supposed to be finding a suitable partner, not thinking of ways to thank his nanny for doing her job. This is above and beyond her job. She deserves your appreciation, and that’s all this is. Gratitude coupled with respect.
The downside of getting more comfortable with her was he found himself crossing the line now and again, snapping at her instead of giving polite, professional requests. He didn’t like being at odds with her or knowing he’d upset her. Especially when he was asking so much of her.
This morning, she’d left another list of candidates on his desk, not only checked out but starred in order of opinion on which would suit him best. The table she sorted the women into amused him. It was a perfect blend of cheeky and effective. Like Megan. He stared at his phone, firming his lips together. He sent a quick text.
Adam: Charlie in bed?
Megan: Why wouldn’t he be?
Of course he was. Despite it being summer, Adam had insisted that Charlie’s schedule stay much the same. In a couple of weeks, he’d be with Reece, and God knew that woman didn’t keep regular hours. Even before she’d gotten a role on a prime-time soap opera, she’d been a night owl. Adam used to tease her that she’d been born one.
Adam: Just checking.
Megan: Your date is so boring you have to check in?
His jaw tightened. How could he feel both appreciative and infuriated by the same woman?
Adam: She’s not here yet.
Megan: Minus ten for being late. Maybe her outfit will make up for it.
Adam: Minus seven for now. One point for every minute she’s late.
Megan: That’s a very generous system.
Adam: I thought so.
Anticipation beat quickly in his chest. He ignored it as his thumbs hovered over the screen: What are you doing?
Megan: Curled up on the couch watching Gilmore Girls. Don’t be on your phone when she gets there. That’s an immediate minus fifteen.
His burst of laughter caught him off guard, even as the image of Megan snuggled into his oversize, cozy couch cushions popped into his mind. Far too easy to picture her there.
He smiled. He started to reply when he heard his name. Looking up, he saw that Cara, blond and blue eyed, just as her profile had pictured, was smiling tentatively at him. Wearing a low-cut black dress that hugged her curves, he was undecided if the dress made up for lack of punctuality. He slipped his phone in his pocket and slid off the stool.
Extending a hand, he shook hers. “Cara. Nice to meet you.”
“Same. Sorry I’m late. I thought I knew where it was, and then I took a wrong turn.”
They stood facing each other after they shook hands. Gesturing to the stools, Adam asked, “Is here all right or did you want a table?”
She sat on one of the stools. “This is fine.”
Taking a seat beside her, he tried to swallow down the nerves rising inside him. The bartender strolled over.
“Get you two a drink?”
Adam looked at Cara. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.”
“Cola, please,” Adam said.
The bartender nodded and went to fill their order.
Adam angled his body toward Cara, second guessing the choice to sit at the bar. It made conversation slightly awkward.
“Not a drinker?” Cara asked.
“Not on work nights.” Or on weekends really. But perhaps he should have ordered a beer or something so she didn’t feel weird.
“Disciplined. That’s a good sign,” she said with a small laugh.
When the bartender dropped off their drinks, Cara took a small sip of hers and then picked up the napkin, fiddling with it. She’s nervous, too. Put her at ease. Do you even remember how to do this?
“You look very nice. I was worried you’d be a sixty-year-old man with no hair and a beer gut,” Adam said.
Awesome. Way to go. Perhaps you’d like to never date again?
Before he could apologize for how that sounded, Cara laughed. A bit too loud, but genuine. “I was worried about the same thing. You never know, and you hear all those awful stories.”
“Exactly.”
“And thank you. I wasn’t sure what to wear. It’s been a while since I’ve had a date,” she admitted, picking up her drink again.
“Any particular reason?” He only asked because she opened the door.
She shrugged. “I was in a pretty serious relationship for seven years but got tired of waiting around for a ring. It’s not even that I wanted to get married that badly; I was just tired of standing still. I wanted to feel like we were moving forward. Like we had a plan.”
Adam folded his forearms on the bar, his face turned toward her. “That’s not an unreasonable thing to want. How long ago was this?”
Cara set her drink down. “It’s been six months. But it was over way before that. How about you?”
Six months wasn’t very long. But she was attractive and genuine, so he pushed the concern aside. “I was married for about two years. I have a son. Charlie.”
“I love kids. Can I see a photo of him?”
He hesitated. It was a normal question, but giving up a little piece of his privacy caused a hitch in his breath. Shrugging it off, telling himself he was being weird, he pulled out his phone. She was interested. That mattered.
He scrolled through and found one of Charlie laughing at something, looking up at Adam. His heart clenched. Damn, he had a great kid. “This is him.”
She leaned in to look and put one hand to her chest. “Oh my. He’s a handsome guy. What a great smile.” She looked up at Adam. “He looks like you.”
Most people said that, but Adam could see Reece’s nose and cheekbones. Every now and again, he saw her mannerisms, which, frankly, felt weird.
Pulling him out of his thoughts, she asked, “Is this your first online match up?”
“It is. You?”
Shaking her head, she picked up the drink and finished it off. “Fourth. You’re the first one who isn’t a disappointment.”
He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment. The bartender came by and asked if she wanted another. She shook her head, which pleased Adam. He had no issues with drinking but liked to know he wasn’t the only one who thought ahead and drank responsibly.
Shifting on the stool, Cara pulled her very large purse onto the bar and dug out her phone. He thought perhaps she was going to show him a picture of something, but instead, she readied the camera app and leaned into him.
“Smile,” she said. She snapped a picture then frowned. “You didn’t smile.”
“I actually don’t love having my picture taken,” he said, hoping she’d take a hint.
“One more. That’s all. I have four hundred followers on Snapchat. I promised an update.” She held it at arm’s length again and tipped her head onto his shoulder. She slipped the phone back into her purse, and Adam wondered two things: why would any woman need a bag that big and how could he get her to delete those photos?
You haven’t dated in forever. This could be the new thing. Run with it. And relax. Channel your inner Declan. The thought of his friend reminded him of the jolt—and irrational anger—he’d felt when Dec had answered Megan’s phone the other morning.
“How old is Charlie?”
Adam blinked and focused on his date. Tendrils of hair teased her neck, but most of it was pulled up in a loose bun. “He’s seven.”
“Great age. I have two nephews. They’re six and four. My sister is pregnant again and hoping for a girl. It’s a nice spread in age, I think.”
“Would you two like to see an appetizer menu?” the bartender asked as he stacked glasses.
Cara looked at Adam. “You hungry?”
“Not really,” he replied.
…
It was just after ten when Adam let himself into the house. He quietly removed his shoes and put them in the closet. Fatigue seemed to have laced itself through the muscles in his shoulders. Leaving his briefcase in his office, he shrugged off his jacket and hung it at the kitchen table. Other than the light over the stove, the kitchen was dark. He headed down the hall to check on Charlie, who was sprawled sideways on his twin bed. His heart actually jumped at the sight of his kid. It took a bit of maneuvering to straighten him and get him under the covers. Charlie didn’t wake, which made Adam smile.
The door to the guest room where Megan slept was open. Peeking in, he was surprised to see she wasn’t in bed. If she thought she was staying late, she typically went to bed in the main house. His stomach growled, and he detoured back to the kitchen to grab something to eat. He’d just stepped onto the tile when he saw Megan walking unsteadily, nearly weaving toward him.
Worry raced through him, making his heart constrict as he rushed toward her, arms out to catch her if she fell. “You okay?” he asked.
She screamed. Full on, scare-the-hell-out-of-him screamed. The sound was accompanied by a flurry of arm flapping and hopping.
“Holy hell on a stick. What are you doing here?”
Her breath hitched, and Adam’s heart played a wicked drum solo in his chest. “I live here! What’s wrong with you?” He grabbed both of her arms to stop her from flailing around and hitting him, which she’d already managed to do twice.
Hands on the smooth, toned skin of her biceps, holding her close, he looked down to see she was only in shorts and a tank top. Short shorts. Where’s-the-rest-of-them, how-did-he-not-know-her-legs-were-so-long shorts.
She dropped her head forward onto his chest, pulling in deep, uneven breaths, and her voice came out shaky. Sensations pummeled his chest, and the tension in his shoulders had nothing to do with being tired. The feel of her against him like she belonged there blocked his throat.
Voice husky, she mumbled, “I fell asleep on the couch. I was making my way to bed. Why are you skulking around in the dark? What’s wrong with you?”
Like she suddenly realized she was resting, flush, against him, she stepped back and pointed her finger at him.
The feel of her was imprinted on his chest, making his voice harsher than he intended. “Do you always wake up like you’re drunk? Seriously, you were weaving like a race car driver.”
Her eyes were still half asleep, and now that his own had adjusted to the dim lighting, he felt ridiculous. And turned on. What? No. Hungry. You feel hungry.
A shiver racked her body, and not thinking clearly, Adam stepped toward her and reached out to rub his hands briskly up and down her chilled arms. He knew, the second he touched her, that he shouldn’t have. It messed with his head. And other parts of his body.
He spoke in a low, even tone. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It was probably me coming in that woke you. I was checking on Charlie, who thankfully sleeps like a hibernating bear.”
Her eyes were locked on his, but she said nothing. Her mouth opened, pulling his focus down to her lips. When her tongue snuck out to wet them, his stomach tightened. Was it his imagination or did her skin feel warmer than a moment ago? The sleek silk of her arms teased his palms. Neither of them moved. Adam’s heart was gearing up for a fantastic finish, and for one second, he worried it might beat out of his body entirely.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You said that. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” she said, her voice low. Because she was still waking up? Or because she was as aware of their proximity and the feel of their bodies moving closer as he was?
“I deserved it. If not for now, then for the last few days.”
He couldn’t make himself drop his hands. He liked the feel of her. Her scent was warm honey. Desire ripped through him with such intensity his fingers tightened, and she gasped.
He stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t. At all.”
Hungry. He was hungry. For food. He needed food. He turned toward the fridge, wondering where his brain had gone in those brief seconds. Starvation could do strange things to a man. So can a gorgeous, warm, half-naked woman. No, not a woman. Nanny. She was his nanny. His son’s caregiver and almost seven years younger than him. She was hearts and moonbeams, promises and whispers in the dark. Adam was…not. Which you damn well need to remember.
Rooting around in the fridge, he grabbed some cheese, sandwich meat, lettuce, and mustard. “Want one?” he asked over his shoulder because he wasn’t ready to look at her again.
“No thanks. How was your date?”
He grabbed the loaf of bread from the drawer in the island and met her gaze briefly. Long enough to see her eyes were wide-awake now. Kind of like his body. Stop it. Make your sandwich and go to bed. Alone. As usual. Which was exactly what he wanted.
“Fine.” He’d ended up saying he had to work early, which wasn’t a lie. It also wasn’t the reason for him not sticking around.
“Fine. Wow. That good, huh?”
She snagged a piece of cheese he’d just sliced and popped it into her mouth. He almost—almost—got stuck staring at her lips again but stopped himself and focused on his task. Thankfully, he believed in discipline or he wouldn’t be able to school his reactions so well. Yeah, you’re being real smooth.
“There won’t be a second. She snapped two pictures of us. We hadn’t talked for ten full minutes and now she has my picture. Said she had followers on Snapchat. It was weird. And she was late.”
“Hmm. Minus thirty then. She took your picture?”
He looked up. “Yes. Very strange. Is that what people do on dates these days?”
Megan snorted out a laugh, and the sound made him smile. “You say that like I’d know. The closest thing I’ve had to a date was breakfast with Declan and Charlie the other morning.”
Adam put the knife down with a clang. “Speaking of that, how’d that come about?”
When Dec had answered her phone, every possessive cell he didn’t know existed in his body had stood up, ready to fight. The feeling had shocked him nearly speechless. He didn’t like it. Even less so now that he was thinking of it again. Why did it bother him so much? Declan was the next best thing to a brother. He was Charlie’s godfather and had been there for Adam for every good and bad thing in his life.
Taking another piece of cheese before he could put it on his bread, Megan grinned. “We just ran into each other at the comic book store. He thought he was pretty funny. He wanted to mess with you.”
“Idiot.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Or he just wanted you to loosen up.”
“I’m plenty loose,” Adam said, though at the moment, his clothing felt rather restrictive. Could you just focus? He squirted mustard onto the cheese.
Megan pointed at him. “Why do you put it there and not the bread?”
“Less soggy this way,” he replied, closing the lid. He put a few slices of ham on and closed the sandwich.
She nodded as if this made perfect sense, which, of course, it did. While he put the sandwich fixings away, she slid off the stool and grabbed a plate from the cupboard and put it on the counter for him.
“Thanks.” He cut it in half, set his half on the plate, and then held out the other half to her.
She bit her lip. Fuck. Stop looking at her lips. Everyone has them. Hers are nothing special. But they sure as hell pulled his attention. Made him wonder what they’d feel like under his or running over his—
“You sure?”
“I’d rather give you half than have you take it out of my hands,” he said.
She laughed and grabbed herself a plate. He pulled two waters from the fridge and passed her one.
“Living room?” he asked.
“Sure.”
They sat beside each other on the couch, and Adam realized it was oddly comfortable, in an electrically charged, heart-stuck-in-his-throat sort of way.
Megan tucked her feet under her and took a bite of the sandwich she’d claimed not to want. Her toenails were bright pink. They were feminine and flirty. And it felt intimate to know.
“So we’ll add no selfie taking to the list?”
He nodded, chewing. She scrolled through her phone, her eyes scanning whatever she was reading. She wouldn’t like it if he was on his phone during the conversation, but he let it go because it gave him the chance to look at her. Her honey-colored skin matched her auburn hair. It hung loose and messy around her shoulders. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an unattractive-messy. More sexy-slumberous.
“Uh-oh,” she said, frowning.
“What?”
She showed him her phone, and he nearly choked on his sandwich.
“What the hell?”
He set the plate down and took the phone from her. Apparently, Cara had updated her social media status to “hopeful” and had included the picture she’d taken. The caption underneath read, “Went out with this guy tonight. Fingers crossed for a second date.”
Megan’s lips were curved inward, and her face was scrunched. Adam scrolled down on Cara’s page. He wasn’t on social media because who the hell had the time? And even if he did, there was no need. If he wanted to talk to someone, he called them. If he wanted to see them, he did. He didn’t need to update his status or know what anyone had for breakfast to go about his day.
“I’m sorry,” Megan whispered.
“You can add check social media to the list of ways to screen candidates,” he said. He wasn’t shy, but he didn’t particularly need his life splashed across a computer screen. If he’d wanted that life, he would have tried harder to convince Reece not to leave.
“I should have thought of that,” she said.
It was then he noticed the way her shoulders were hunched. He passed her back the phone. Their fingers brushed as she accepted it, and the look in her eyes mirrored the pull he’d felt earlier.
“It’s not your fault.”
He’d been a prick the last couple of days. Between worrying about her leaving and Charlie and his idea to build the perfect future, the stress had boiled over. Directly into Megan’s lap.
“I’ll double check all of the suitable profiles with social media and make sure they’re not wackos.”
Adam gave a gruff laugh. “Wackos?”
A hint of a smile touched her lips but not her eyes. “Just be grateful you’re not seeing all of the crazies lining up for you. I’m trying to protect you, but that one slipped through. It won’t happen again.”
“I feel very safe now. Thanks.”
She laughed then covered a yawn. “I should go. Thanks for the sandwich.”
Restlessness zipped through his veins. He didn’t want to be alone, which was new for him. Normally, he kept himself busy enough he wouldn’t notice. But right now, he didn’t want her to leave. Which was different than just not wanting to be alone. Pressure crammed his chest like an over-packed suitcase when he realized he wanted her company. The reasons for her to leave were mounting. This wasn’t attraction. Just edginess. He wasn’t attracted to her—she was the girl in the fairy tales, the one who kept her nose in a book and knew with certainty that her Prince Charming would come.
Adam was no Prince Charming. He was a realist and wasn’t looking for happily ever after. I’d be happy with content until death do us part.
She stood up, bringing him back to the moment.
Adam rose as well, much less gracefully than she did. He nearly fell into her in his haste to stop her from leaving. Their bodies were too close, and he heard the snag in her breath.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
She searched his face, and he waited, his breath caught in his lungs, painfully. After what felt like ten minutes but was probably only thirty seconds, she nodded slowly and sank back down to the cushions. He moved the plates onto the coffee table and sat beside her. Too close. He told himself to move over into his own space. Instead, he leaned forward and picked up the remote.
When he turned to ask her what she felt like watching, her eyes were already on him.
“You okay?” Gaze hooked on hers, his voice came out lower than he intended.
“Sure. You?”
He nodded slowly, unable to tear his eyes away.
“Adam?” She looked at his lips.
“Hmm?”
Silence and energy hummed between them, a live wire shooting off sparks, rooting them to their spots. Even the slightest movement could be dangerous. He did not act spontaneously. There was no room in his life for spur-of-the-moment desires. There was no room in his life—in his heart—for her. Megan’s gaze came back to his, and the space between them disappeared by achingly small degrees.
Megan’s breath fanned his lips, and his eyes drifted shut. Rational thought slipped away even as his fingers threaded with hers on the cushion between them. The first touch was soft and slow, their lips meeting and sweeping over each other. Her fingers tightened around his, and she pressed closer, opened her mouth a little more, and Adam was lost. His other hand found its own way into her hair. All that luxurious, soft hair that he could easily imagine trailing over his body.
Tilting his head, he kept his eyes closed, losing himself in something he thought he was no longer capable of: sensation. An overload of feelings pummeled him, making each breath a strange mixture of pleasure and pain. Her tongue grazed his, and her hand stroked his chest before settling over his heart. It beat so hard and fast, he was certain she could feel it through his shirt. He needed to know hers was every bit as out of control as his own.
Out of control. Something he never let himself be. Yet he didn’t pull away.
He couldn’t.