If I didn't know any better, I'd think he set this up. The whole thing. Dog, kid, un-freaking-believable house on Beacon Street, the whole nine yards. Because any woman who's immune to going weak in the knees at seeing Emmett Swan in caretaker mode has an estrogen deficiency or something.
Yeah, he can be an ass. He's grumpy as hell, and I have a feeling I haven't even seen the worst of it. But the way he knelt and slid Dany's sandals off, then tucked the blanket around her before tiptoeing out of the room made me all kinds of melty inside.
And he hit on me.
I can't wait to tell the girls and dissect every little move he made.
But nope, no way, no how can I sleep with him. Nope.
It will muddy the situation. The… investigation and whatnot.
And I'm not going to allow myself to be seduced so easily. Nope. Newp.
I can, however, take him up on his offer for dinner while I pry every detail I can from him.
So I follow him out of the room, not entirely sure what I'm going to do about the fact that my dog's tucked under Dany's arm.
Emmett fixes the doorknob, then switches a button and winks at me. My heart does a little flip.
"Now she can't lock it."
My stomach growls in the most unladylike manner. "Perfect. Alright, so I'm starving. Are you still cooking, or should we order pizza or something?"
Or maybe steak and salad, or… shrimp? What do rich chefs eat, and does this count as a date?
Kathlyn would tell me it totally counts.
"Happy to cook."
"I'd appreciate it and return the favor sometime. I need to ask some questions and hop on a computer while she naps."
He looks thoughtful. "I don't think she's napping. She slept like shit the night before. I bet she's out for the night."
"Maybe."
What will I do about Prince? If he wakes up in a strange place and I'm not here, he'll freak.
We head to the kitchen, his very gorgeous, very spacious, all white-and-steel-like-a-showroom kitchen. I hop up on a barstool, and he slides a laptop in front of me.
"Password's 'let me in.'"
"You know that's like the second most common password used in the world, right?"
He frowns. "What's the first most common?"
"Probably 1234. I bet you could improve on that."
He nods, spins it around from me, taps away on the keyboard, and spins it back.
"There ya go."
It's still password-locked.
"You gonna tell me your password now?"
"Guess."
Oh, so we're playing games now?
I roll my eyes and type stay the hell out, and the screen comes to life.
"Did you really just guess it on the first try?"
I want to remind him I'm an investigator, and I've got him all pegged, but think it's probably best not to push things.
Instead, what comes out is, "Maybe you should stop being so predictable."
Oh, dear.
Emmett does not like to be told what to do, I know this when his eyes flash and a muscle ticks in his jaw. He turns to me, and I wonder if this time I've pushed him too far. I can't help it, though.
He's right in my space, all muscles and stubble and raw masculinity, and you don't really realize how tall a guy is until you're sitting on a stool staring up at their armpits. I note he has very nice armpits, not those hairy gorilla types. Why does no one ever talk about those? So masculine. And… oh, God, those biceps, all round and muscled and strong.
So, overpowering a girl is sort of his signature move. I'm not complaining.
No, no, please don't dominate me, Sir.
I think that needs a sir.
He plants one hand on the counter next to me, then reaches for the back of my head with the other, threading his fingers through my hair.
My lady parts squeal. He's touching me. Oh my God what is he going to do?
He gives a tug, and my mouth drops open in shock while my heartbeat thunders, seconds before he captures my mouth with his.
Oh, God. No way!
I melt into the kiss, my body thrilling from head to toe. This man knows how to kiss. His lips are gentle but insistent, and he grips the back of my head while he plunders my mouth. I stifle a moan, trying to enjoy this kiss without melting into a puddle and handing him my V-card, but did I mention he knows how to kiss?
All too soon, he pulls away. He's breathing heavily, his eyes a fraction wider, and when he speaks, his voice is a little ragged.
"There," he says, satisfied with himself. "Is that unpredictable enough for you?"
I think I've forgotten how to talk. I stare at him dumbly, wondering if it's really possible to orgasm from a kiss, because tingles have exploded all over me, especially in the nether regions. He's done more than set me to pre-heat.
And then I remember how to make my vocal cords work again.
"Do it again," I whisper before I can stop myself, like he just performed a circus trick. And for once in my life, I'm glad that I don't always think before I speak, that the uncensored me is on a mission to get me some.
Before I know what's happening, he's lifting me straight up off that little stool. My legs wrap around him, and he cups my ass. Those big, strong hands of his just grab my cheeks like they're handles custom-made just for those delicious palms, and the feel of his powerful grip on my ass makes me squirm. He squeezes, a little warning of how strong he is and how easily he could manhandle me, and man, I want to be handled.
Then I'm on my back on his couch, he's kneeling beside me, and we're kissing like two teens in the back of a pickup truck after prom. His lips are on mine, his tongue sweeps my mouth, and one of his large, warm hands feathers over my breasts, sending bolts of electricity and need between my legs.
Oh, God.
Yes.
Yes, this, this is what I've needed all my life and didn't know until now when I feel exactly how alive I am under his touch. I sigh when his thumb brushes over my hardened nipple, and even through a bra and dress, the touch is exquisite. I want his hands on me, his mouth all over my body, I want to be tied to his headboard while he—
What am I doing?
I freeze, and he senses my hesitation. He pulls his mouth off mine and looks at me, blinking in surprise, as if he just realizes what we're doing, too.
"You alright?" he asks, his voice all rough and tumbled like he's gargled with broken glass, and why does that make my breasts swell?
"No," I whisper. "What the hell are we doing? I'm here on official business. Dany could come down those stairs at any moment, and this is so, so inappropriate."
He doesn't move.
I don't either.
Kinda have to admit, I like the feel of his weight on me.
Like, a lot.
My gaze roves over the hard angles of his face, so ruggedly masculine. There's a pucker between his brows, like he's thinking things over, his lips pursed. I take in a deep breath, steadying my nerves, when his doorbell rings. It's like the sounding of a gong.
I knew this was too good to last.
He pushes up and off of me, and I quickly sit up myself, brushing down my dress and running my fingers through my hair. Which of course doesn't do anything because my hair already has a mind of its own. I stretch, ignoring the way my body whines in protest at the sudden loss of him, of the flirtation with ecstasy I've denied myself for way too long.
So close, Regina. So close. Why'd you stop now?
I need to move. Work. Maybe take a cold shower.
I hop back up on the barstool, staring unseeingly at the laptop on the counter. Where was I again? What was I doing?
Who am I?
I open the laptop because it feels like the professional thing to do, when I spy a bar to the right of his kitchen, beckoning to me from beneath gentle overhead lighting.
Oh, yes. Yes, that is exactly what this moment calls for. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, and if I don't have something to relieve the tension that thrums through me, I'll crack.
I hop back down from the barstool and head to the bar, and I hear him curse just before he opens the door.
"Emmett," a woman's voice says. I freeze, my fingers gripping a glass at the bar. It's a nice woman's voice, all sensual and seductive, and doesn't exactly sound like it might be his mama.
I can't see anything from here, because the kitchen's tucked away and the entryway door's paces behind the doorway. I reach blindly for a bottle at the bar and tip something into my glass. I don't even see it, I'm too focused on the sound of heels clicking on the tiled floors, heading my way.
"Lilith," Emmett begins.
Lilith? That's a… woman's name, right?
There's the low hum of a female voice accompanying the sound of those heels clicking on tile. I freeze.
"I'm sorry, I'll have to cancel our plans for tonight," he says, just as the heel clicks enter the room and freeze in place when she catches sight of me. We stare at each other, and make no mistake, we're sizing each other up. She's gorgeous, tall and lithe and fit, a slinky black dress gliding over her perfect body like it was custom designed just for her. She has long, raven-black hair cut stylishly, accentuating the line of her jaw and her high cheekbones. Her makeup is flawless, pouty red lips frowning at me as she takes me in.
I look down as I take me in, too, and see what she sees.
Frumpy T-shirt dress I picked up on consignment, that fits me well but has seen better days. Worn black flats, bare legs. A body that's passable but hasn't seen the inside of a gym in way too long. My hair's all over the place, I'm not wearing any makeup, and I'm pretty sure my eyebrows need a good pluck.
Oh, dear.
Who is she? Oh, God, who is this woman? Can't be his sister, because no one goes to see their brother dressed like that.
Does he have a girlfriend? Like a dope, I just let the man stick his tongue down my throat when he's claimed?
Oh my God. What if she's his wife?
I pull myself together, though, because only a fool jumps to conclusions like that.
Or maybe only a fool assumes a man who kisses her is single?
Emmett walks into the room, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he looks all pissed again.
"Lilith," Emmett says, "meet Regina."
She tips her head to the side curiously, still eyeing me.
"Nice to meet you, Regina," she lies, because I can tell by the tone of her voice there are plenty of things she'd rather be doing, like perhaps dusting ceiling fans or de-boning fish.
I swallow. "Pleased to meet you, too," I also lie, wondering how exactly one walks in heels that high without pitching forward and chipping a tooth. When an awkward silence falls on the room, I decide to swig my drink. It's sweet and decadent with cherry undertones, and my tastebuds come to life. Whoa. This shit's delicious.
I look at the glass, thinking I definitely didn't pour enough.
"Careful with that," Emmett says, and when I look up, he's staring straight at me. Lilith shoots him a furious look she quickly quells, like he isn't allowed to boss around anyone but her.
A warning bell chimes in my head.
"Emmett," Lilith says, turning to him gracefully, though her jaw's tight and she's clutching her clutch like it's personally offended her. "Is this your… house help?"
Oh no she didn't, the bitch.
"Friend," I mutter. "We're friends."
More like frenemies, but whatever. Do you make out on the sofa with frenemies? Is frenemies-with-benefits a thing? It should totally be a thing.
My cheeks heat, and I want to smack her. She's dismissed me as anything even slightly romantic, either because she's in denial, or because I don't look the part.
And for the first time since I've met him, I'm grateful Emmett's a total grump, because his eyes flash at her accusation, and it's kinda nice he's directing that anger at her.
"Lilith, you need to leave," he says, gesturing to the door as if to underscore the leave part. My heart does a little hop. Maybe she isn't his girlfriend, or did I just break shit up?
"Excuse me?" she says, and her face does this thing where it, like, morphs. One minute she looks all graceful and gracious and gorgeous, and the next her eyes narrow, her face contorts, and the pretty little thing looks almost troll-like. Oh, wow.
I tip some more of the delicious drink into my cup and sip, watching the scene in front of me play out like I'm watching Shakespeare in the park. I should rummage through his cabinets and scrounge up some cheese and crackers, maybe pop some popcorn.
"We had plans!" she says.
Oopsie.
"Ah, right. I'm sorry about that, I've made a mistake and have other obligations this evening," he says, taking her by the elbow. I sip my drink, lean back against the bar and cross my ankles, then spy a little bowl of salted nuts. I lean over and pop a fistful in my mouth. Oh, these are the good kind. No peanuts.
She halts in the doorway and plants her hands on her hips.
"My parents are waiting for us!"
Oof. Parents. That's a complication, I think, picking out the hazelnuts.
He runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up all over the place. He'd look boyish, if not for that firm jaw and the scruff of his beard that's all man.
"Excuse me," he says. "Again, my apologies. I've had a long day and didn't know I'd be given custody of my niece. Regina here has come to help me get her settled in."
Lilith scrunches up her nose even more, looking like a putty-colored pig. I shiver and pick out all the pecans, savoring every buttery, salty one of them, and follow them with another swig of the sweet ambrosia.
"So she's your… nanny? Because of that child?"
"Very much not the nanny," I say. Why does everyone keep trying to force that on me?
She whips her head around to look at me. "I wasn't speaking to you. Weren't you ever taught it's rude to address someone out of turn?"
I snort. "Oh, right, I forgot. This is the nineteenth century, and I should know my place."
"Precisely."
I don't know if it's the insane day I've had, the decadent alcohol that's got to be like one hundred ten proof coursing through my veins, or the fact that I just made out with this guy and I'm not exactly ready to give him up that easily, but I've had enough of her high-handed bullshit. I shake my head and stalk toward her.
"Ah, Lilith, you're one of those, aren't you?"
She blinks. "Those?"
"Yes, those, one of those who thinks that the numbers in their bank account or the clothing they wear makes them somehow better than everyone else."
She doesn't contradict me. The bitch actually believes this to be true.
"So tell me, Lilith, who are you?" I ask. I make a show of letting my eyes rove over her clothes. Time to put my detective skills to good use. "Well-dressed, but with those fuck-me heels, I'd think you're looking to get laid." I tip my head to the side, mimicking her. "A paid escort, perhaps?" I wink lasciviously at Emmett. "Wouldn't put it past you, big guy. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am. Seems the tabloids get it right every once in a while, eh?"
"Regina," Emmett growls, but I think I see a twinkle in his eyes.
Lilith's jaw drops open. "You little bitch."
"That's enough." Emmett's tone's implacable as he tugs Lilith toward the door.
"I'm just getting started, though," I say on a whine.
He points to the door. "You, out." Lilith stalks with him on her heels as he calls to me over his shoulder, "And you, stay put and stop drinking that fucking amaretto before you make yourself sick."
Amaretto. Oooh. I like the sound of that. Amaretto sounds like ambrosia, a gift from the gods.
Funny that he thinks he can boss me around. Don't remember getting a paycheck from him, so as he turns the corner to escort her out of the house, I pour myself another shot. Who gave him the right to tell me what to do?
"The amaretto pairs perfectly with the salty decadence of the pecans," I say to myself in the haughty tone one might use on a high-end cooking show. "One might also consider imported cheese, such as a rich Manchego, or perhaps a creamy Stilton from the northernmost parts of England, to pair with this delicious liqueur."
I hear muffled words in a high-pitched voice followed by Emmett's deeper register, then the door opens and slams a lot harder than it should. I polish off my amaretto and pour myself a fourth. It's delicious, I'm stressed, and I'm starving.
"I thought I told you no more," he growls behind me. "What the fuck are you doing?"
I turn to him, and for one delicious moment, there's three of him, and I imagine what it would be like to be bedded by all of them at once. One licking my breasts while the other fingers my pussy, and the third puts me over his knee—
Jesus.
I blink. "Excuse me?"
He reaches for my glass and smacks it down on the bar. "That shit's strong, and you haven't eaten."
"It's like a liquid meal. You know, like a smoothie, or a protein shake," I say, making my grabby hands. "Gimme, goddammit."
"No."
"Who do you think you are, taking that away from me? And did you cheat on her with me, because that, my friend, is low, like snake-in-the-grass-on-his-belly low." My voice is all slurred, but I don't care.
"She's a friend of my parents who happens to be in town, and they managed to strong-arm me into escorting her to a bullshit benefit thing I don't even want to go to. I don't want to go so badly, I actually forgot all about it. Which is perfectly fine with me, because I had a distinct feeling she was using me, and I won't allow myself to be used."
"Well. Now that's a thorough answer," I say out loud, while in my head, I tell him all the ways I would absolutely love to use him.
"I'm sorry about the interruption," he says, stepping toward me, and once again his masculine scent wafts over me, his voice vibrates straight through me, and liquid heat pools at my core.
"Oh, you anything didn't interrupt," I say, then frown because that sounds wrong. "You didn't interrupt a thing. I was just opening up the laptop and we were not making out anymore."
I tap in the password on his keyboard and open a browser.
"So you're not angry?" He sounds incredulous. "How could you not be angry?"
He comes up behind me on the barstool and reaches for my shoulders. Oh. Oh, wow. Those strong fingers massage my shoulders and my eyes flutter closed. It feels so good.
"Why would I be angry?" I manage to slur out.
"It was rude. I didn't know she was coming. She was a bitch to you."
I snort. "Whatever. Bitches are so last Tuesday."
He brushes a strand of hair off my forehead, then slides a finger under my chin so I look up at him. My heart does a little thump. I like that move. I like it a lot.
"I told you not to drink any more," he says, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "And you did it anyway."
"Mhm." Why yes, yes I did. Maybe he'll punish me. Why does that sound hot? "I did, didn't I? Although," I say through thick lips and is my tongue swollen? "I don't recall giving you permission to boss me around."
He leans in and kisses my cheek. Stubble pricks gently.
Zing.
"You gave me permission to boss you around by stepping foot into my house. Your words, remember? His house, his rules."
I did say that, didn't I?
I lean toward him. "And what, pray tell, would you do to a girl who broke your rules?"
Spanking? My mind suggests helpfully.
He shakes his head sadly. "I'm sorry to say," he says in a tone that isn't sad at all, "I'd have to punish her."
Oh my God that sounds so hot.
"Doesn't it, though?" he says.
"Doesn't it what?"
"Sound hot."
So, yeah, didn't mean to say that out loud.
He takes a step back and rolls up his sleeves like that stern professor I have in my mind, the one that plays on an endless loop when a girl needs a quick and dirty fantasy.
"Do you have a pair of glasses?"
A corner of his lips quirks up. "Glasses?"
Oops. Said that out loud, too.
"Yes," I say in a breathy whisper, all semblance of professionalism gone. "Glasses. You'd look like a stern professor ready to paddle me for being late to class."
Shiver.
His eyes blaze. "I have a whiteboard in my office," he adds, then lowers his voice. "Young lady."
I squeeze my eyes tight and ball my fists in excitement. "Oh my God. And do you have a desk you could bend me over?"
He nods soberly. "I do. I so do."
No. I can't do this.
I shake my head, clearing my foggy brain. "No, we have work to do."
He clucks his tongue. "It's been a long day, Regina. But we could—"
"No," I sigh.
It has been a long day. Oh my God, it so has. But I can't let this happen. I'm basically using him, and that's not okay. Plus, I'm tipsy as fuck.
"And tomorrow, we'll sit down with Dany and get all the information we can."
He sighs and nods. "I have to admit, I don't know much of anything at all about her and her mother. I really don't."
Right, so that makes sense, and totally frees up the rest of the evening.
I slam the laptop shut and yawn widely. The stairs seem so far away. Steep. Distant. Work. I lay my head on my arm on the counter.
"You're tired," he says. Good thing I'm the one doing the investigating here because his detective skills are kinda entry-level.
His hand rests at the small of my back. I close my eyes. I like the feel of it there, all warm and comforting.
His seduction skills, however…
"So. Tired." I yawn so widely my eyes water.
"Then for today I'll excuse your tardiness to class," he whispers in my ear.
I grin. "Are we doing this? Tell me we are so doing this… sometime."
"We are so doing this sometime."
Squeee!
I yawn again, and my eyelids feel so heavy. "I need to go home," I say. "I can get Prince in the morning."
He brushes my hair off my back and gives my shoulder a gentle kiss.
Why does that feel so good?
"We haven't even had dinner."
I nod. "God, I'm starving."
"So at least let me make you dinner, then you can crash in the guest room and take Prince home in the morning." He cringes. "I'm afraid she'll wake up if you take him tonight, and what do I do with a kid who wakes up in the middle of the night?"
I think it over.
"Okay," I say, in what is probably the shortest end to a protest in the history of ever. I raise my index finger and point it at him. "But no sleeping with me."
"Wow, so you mentally went there."
I snort. "As if you didn't?"
A knowing look.
Zing.
"Deal."
"And I ask you everything you know in the morning," I counter.
"Fine. But I get up at six to work out, and I'm in the office by seven."
I open one heavy eyelid. "You monster!"
His unyielding dark gaze meets mine, and my own wanders down to those large, powerful hands I imagine holding me down.
"My house," he begins.
I so regret those impulsive words.