Mari helped Harper into her pajamas, her mind on Hank. Dinner had given her a chance to gather herself. He’d kept his attention on Harper, and as she’d watched him interact with her and she’d thought about the way it had felt when he’d pressed against her while showing her how to play pool. She fantasized that he would invite her to play pool again, maybe after Harper went to bed. The idea thrilled her, and she kept waiting—and hoping, so desperately hoping—that he would suggest it.

But they finished dinner without him saying a word about that. The only thing he’d promised was that he would come upstairs and tuck Harper in when she was ready for bed. In fact, he’d said he needed to work in his office for a bit, and then he’d come up at eight.

It was now seven thirty. Mari sent London a text to let her know Harper was ready to FaceTime, and a few minutes later Mari’s phone rang. She answered it, and there was London. It was three-thirty in the morning where she was, and she looked tired. Even so, she was as gorgeous as ever.

That’s Hank’s ex-wife. Don’t forget that.

After greeting her, Mari gave the phone to Harper. She half-listened to the conversation, her mind refusing to stop thinking about Hank. The way his clothes fit his body, the look on his face when she’d turned around after trying to hit the ball on the pool table, the way it felt to have him so close to her.

“Daddy teached Mari how to play pool,” she heard Harper telling London.

“He did?”

“Yeah. And Mari got a funny look on her face.”

Oh boy. Harper noticed more than I thought.

“Let me talk to her, baby girl.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Harper handed the phone to Mari, then picked up her favorite doll to finish putting the doll’s pajamas on.

“What’s Harper talking about?” London asked, her eyes slightly narrowed.

“We were…we were just hanging out in the game room.” Deflect, deflect. “We set up an art studio out there. You should see the beautiful paintings Harper created.”

“That’s great. But what about playing pool? Hank teaching you?” Her head tilted. “What did Harper mean you had a funny look on your face?”

Mari’s mind went blank.

London’s eyebrows shot up. “Nothing’s going on between the two of you, is it?”

“No! No no no.” Mari forced a laugh. “This is only my third day.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what Harper’s talking about. Probably the embarrassed look I had when I did so bad trying to play pool.”

London’s lips compressed. “I don’t know why you’re playing pool with my ex-husband, Mari. You’re there to tend to Harper. Nothing more. That’s why I hired you. I’d hate to…change our arrangement.”

The subtle threat was like a slap in the face. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Like I said, we were just hanging out. Harper was painting and…” There was no point in trying to defend herself. “I’m sorry, London. Truly.”

London smiled. “All right. Let me say good-night to Harper.”

Mari gave the phone to Harper once more, and after they’d said their good-byes, Mari ended the call and put the phone away.

“Read me a story, please, Mari,” Harper said.

Glad to do something that might take her mind off of Hank, Mari smiled. “Which story do you want me to read?”

Harper went to the small bookshelf tucked in the corner and pulled out her favorite princess story, then carried it back to Mari. They climbed on her bed and snuggled against the pillows as Mari opened the book and began reading.

Ten minutes later a knock sounded at the door.

“Daddy!” Harper squealed as she launched herself off of the bed and toward the door, then she flung it open and jumped up and down until Hank swept her into his strong arms.

Mari watched all this from the bed, her heart pounding and her mind racing. As much as she was attracted to Hank—and she was beyond attracted—she had to squelch it and squelch it hard.

* * *

Mari looked awfully comfortable sitting on Harper’s bed and Hank had to suppress the impulse to join her.

“Tuck me in, Daddy,” Harper said, and he tore his gaze away from Mari and focused on his daughter.

“That’s why I’m here, Princess Pink Rose.”

He carried her to the bed, and Mari climbed off, standing on the opposite side. After pulling back the covers, Hank laid Harper on the sheets.

Mari leaned over the bed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, Harper. See you in the morning.”

Harper smiled at her. “Goodnight, Mari.”

Mari threw him a tentative smile, then she left. Watching the door close behind her, he wondered why her expression seemed downcast.

Pushing aside his question, he read Harper a story, then tucked her in and left, going into his room to get ready for his date with Simone.

* * *

Mari was having a hard time getting into the book she was reading. After rereading the same sentence for the fourth time, she gave up, setting her eReader on the table beside the bed and leaning against the pillows.

What had London meant when she’d said she’d hate to have to change their arrangement? Would she fire her? Would she make them go back to Los Angeles even though London was out of the country? Would she do that just to keep Mari away from Hank?

Why was Mari even thinking like that? There was nothing between her and Hank. Hank was Harper’s father, for heaven’s sake. Not a romantic prospect.

Sighing, Mari threw back the covers and decided to go into the kitchen and get a glass of ice water. Wearing a pair of shorts and a tank top, her face scrubbed clean of make-up, Mari made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. She took a glass out of the cupboard, went to the refrigerator, then pressed the button to get crushed ice. The machine rumbled as the ice maker crushed the ice and dispensed it into her glass, and then she filled it with water.

“I wondered who was in here,” a voice said behind her.

Mari jumped, nearly dropping her glass as she spun around to find Hank standing there looking incredibly handsome in a green button-up shirt that emphasized his eyes, along with a pair of black slacks.

Was he going out? At this hour? Where was he going? Who was he going with?

Wait. It was none of her business, but jealousy slammed through her nonetheless and she had to know.

“Sorry,” he said with a chuckle. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“That’s okay.”

* * *

Hank noticed she’d removed all of her make-up, which made her look eighteen. But she wasn’t anywhere near being a teenager. She was only a few years younger than he was. And even though she wore a simple pair of shorts and a tank top, she was as stunning as ever. More than usual, actually. She looked innocent and vulnerable.

He needed to turn his thoughts in another direction. Immediately.

Her clear-eyed gaze swept over him. “Are you…going out?”

Maybe this would be a good time to mention that he was seeing someone. Maybe it would be a step to cool his attraction to her.

“Yes. Simone and I are going out. I’m sure you’ll meet her soon enough. We’ve been dating for a few months.” Was that really necessary? Yes. Yes it was.

The open expression on Mari’s face dimmed. Or maybe that was his imagination.

“Oh. Well, have fun.”

I doubt I’ll have as much fun as we had in the game room earlier.

The thought jumped into his head, taking him by surprise. But he shoved it away quickly and forcefully. “Thanks.”

“Good-night.” Then she turned and walked away.

Gaze going to her retreating body, Hank enjoyed the view, then he spun around and walked toward the door.

* * *

Dismay flooded Mari. Hank had a girlfriend. Why was she surprised? A man like him? Undoubtedly, he had to fight them off.

Stop. Just stop. You can’t have him anyway.

Still, when she got into her room she immediately Googled “Hank Parson and Simone” on her phone and got several hits. Her name was Simone Greenwood and she was stunning—tall, slender, blonde, gorgeous. Mari didn’t expect anything less.

And Hank was going to see her right now.

Sliding down in her bed, Mari threw the covers over her head and wallowed in self-pity. She’d finally found a man she could fall for, who seemed perfect in every way, but he was unavailable on so many levels.

How serious were he and Simone? He’d said they’d been dating several months. Not that it mattered. Even if he was single, he was out of reach.

She turned off the light and closed her eyes, but the only image in her mind was Hank Parson.