Twice Tempted (Bad Boys Erotic Tales)

by Arden, Susan

Only because he comprehended that parenting was far from easy did he remain silent, and put aside the need to defend his ability. “What do you propose?”

  “What about dinner? Isabella eats early, so it would have to be about five o’clock.”

  “Let me take you both out.”

  “Why not come over here? You can see where we live and what it means to have a child in your house.”

  She spoke as though he might live in a swinging bachelor pad decked out in mirrors and a disco ball. He slowly responded, “I have a house on the beach with plenty of room. I live alone. I have more than enough room for Isabella. I intend on setting up one of the bedrooms for her.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  He began to pace across his living room, speaking as patiently as he could. “Because one day, my little girl will spend the night here. That’s what children do with their parents. Isabella has a room in your home, and she should have a room in my house as well. If you want, you can choose which room and how to decorate it. I’ll get whatever you think is appropriate. Would that make you feel better about my den of iniquity?”

  “So you’re not married? And no live-in?”

  “No. You?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then tell me when.” He paused. “I’m out of the country week after next in Africa. This was all pre-arranged before today. But I’ll return as soon as possible. I’ve already spoken with my agent. I’ll try to cut it back, but that’s the original schedule.”

  She didn’t say a word.

  “It was planned before I even knew about Isabella. You have to believe me. I tried to get out of it, but I can’t. I have to go.”

  “Rob, after this one, you’ll still have work assignments. I don’t expect you to completely change your life. No matter how committed a zebra may think he is, he still can’t change his stripes.”

  “I’ve no intention of being a jackass. Not some distant, deadbeat dad, unless it’s your intention to make me out to be one. The Pygmalion effect is pretty powerful, Cynthia, and it runs both ways, sweetheart.” His patience was wearing thin. For a moment, he considered how he might force her to stop being so bossy, to prevent her from unleashing her smart mouth on him every time she saw fit.

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Christ. What’s with this woman? He kept recalling how it felt to press into her soft body, and the force of the kiss they’d shared four years ago. So far, no kiss had measured up to that one or any of the things they’d done in Palm Beach. His skin heated across his body. His cock was getting swollen. In seconds, he was fully hard just thinking about making love to her again. Good thing she wasn’t in front of him now.

  “Just tell me when and where?” he whispered, on the cusp of groaning.

  Chapter 11

  The sound of his deep, masculine voice provoked all sorts of feelings. Her body had gone piping hot; her girlie parts absolutely refused to listen to reason. With every word he spoke, an ache unleashed with her. Either she could ride the river of denial or face the facts.

  Fear snaked through her veins. Confused butterflies swarmed inside her belly. If she didn’t act, her ability to protect Isabella would be impacted by a man who’d shown her once already that leaving was far too easy. Didn’t he just say he was headed out of the country? Again.

  Cynthia didn’t waste another minute. Rob sounded like he had plans. She’d better wake up and smell the coffee. Her hand shook as she dialed the all too familiar number.

  “Hello?” her father answered.

  She knew he had caller ID, and she’d dialed before without ever getting him. Either he picked up by mistake this time, or he was willing to listen. “Dad,” she said, “can we talk?”

  “So, I have a grandchild?” He never said ten words when five would suffice.

  What else did he know? “Yes. Isabella is three. She was born March eleventh.” Cynthia started with the basics.

  “I’d heard that you named the child after your mother.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “Long enough.”

  Her head pounded. This was no different. He was no different. Only she had changed. “I’m certain you’ve a wealth of information. Is there anything I can tell you about Isabella that you don’t already know? Do you know what she looks like?”

  “I didn’t hire somebody to snoop around your life. I was only told in passing, by someone who thought I already knew. I was shocked at first, but we both know you’ve chosen to live your life without seeking my approval or advice for anything anymore.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve called and left messages, and I’ve sent you emails that you never respond to. What else could I possibly have done to get in touch with you?” She waited for him to respond.

  He didn’t, which made the purpose of her call all the more difficult. “You have a security gate around your house. I’m not going to drive all the way out there with my daughter, only to cause a scene and be humiliated. I won’t do that to my child.” She’d seen enough scenes as a child, and if she had anything to say about it, her daughter would never be a witness to such emotional confrontations. Her stomach churned, thinking about her own mess that was brewing.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said finally. “Now, why are you calling me? Did you just want to pick a fight?”

  Cynthia sank into an armchair, and a bleak tiredness fell over her. “No, Dad. I called because I need your help.” She held her breath, expecting him to launch into a lecture.

  “I see. What’s wrong?”

  At first she couldn’t believe his taciturn reply. “I need to hire an attorney. The best.”

  “An attorney? What for?”

  “Isabella’s father wants custody of her, and I think it best if I don’t wait to find an attorney.”

  “Who is Isabella’s father?”

  “You don’t know?” she spluttered. Her father had always been a tower of knowledge. Just this once, she’d wished he resumed that all-knowing version she’d long held. Now, it was on her to fill in the gap. A wave of heat billowed from a point between her shoulders, moving upward and settling across her face. She closed her eyes, struggling to sound unbroken. “Rob Graham.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised. Why does he want custody all of a sudden? Is he getting married?”

  Cynthia nearly choked. Not surprised. What did that mean? “No, Dad. Rob never knew before today that he was a father.”

  “What? You never told him? Jesus, Sam, what were you thinking?”

  And, here we go. She gripped the armrest with her free hand and stared at the wall, unsure how to respond.

  He continued unabashed. “Pregnant and unmarried. My God. I told you that once you left, your life would go to hell in handbasket. But to this extent?” His voice softened without warning. “All alone, raising a child. It’s just…heartbreaking. I was wrong to not contact you sooner. I suppose I thought…well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” He abruptly changed the course of the conversation. “Does your Aunt Sonya know?”

  “Yes,” she said. Will wonders ever cease? Her father was acting like a father. “Aunt Sonya sees us regularly, but I made her promise not to say anything.”

  “She’d never tell me a thing anyway. She must think this is all perfect retribution. The two of us not speaking. I hold her responsible.”

  “I don’t think our problems are her fault,” Cynthia murmured.

  “I’ll let that one lie,” he said stiffly. “When can I see my grandbaby?”

  “When would you like to? Shall I bring her to your home?” she asked gently.

  “If you come by the office, I’ll arrange to have an attorney present for you to speak with while I visit with Isabella. I’m prepared to help you.” Her father’s voice went hoarse, and he paused. He cleared his throat. “But, Sam, any melee begun in court, you of all people should realize, each side will come prepared for a skirmish. Court isn’t a place for civility�
�its society’s arena for what about amounts to a civilized brawl. And things can get dirty fast. If you open this door, you’d better be prepared for a free-for-all. The only way to prevail in court is to have more ammunition. Are you prepared for this type of hullabaloo?”

  She’d considered the money required, but not the emotional cost. She swallowed, wondering how far Rob would be willing to go to prevail. In an instant, she knew to the depth of her being, she’d fight tooth and nail for her Isabella. And Tia Sonya would help, just as she’d done before.

  Oh God. Suddenly, Cynthia’s shoulders tightened painfully. She rubbed her forehead, tamping down the wall of tension building. “I don’t have a choice. Rob is getting an attorney.” Her father was right, and she chided herself for being naïve. “Thanks Dad. How about Monday?”

  “I can’t wait. Good to hear from you. Marcia will be so pleased to see you. Sam, I—” His voice became unsteady. “I never stopped loving you. Anger has a strange way of…locking doors.”

  The break in her father’s voice threw her. A wave of tears threatened to flood her eyes. “Me too, Dad.”

  She hung up and sat motionless for a moment, then shook her head to clear the intensity of the tumultuous emotions churning within her. The pressure bore down, threatening to lay her to waste. Maybe because she was so on edge, so ready to burst apart, the sound of her father’s voice cracking shattered her reserves. She was tapped out, and a tear slid down her cheek, followed by another, and then the whole dam broke, and she sobbed. She hadn’t cried so hard since the day Rob had left her in the condo without looking back.

  She stopped wailing when, finally, she crash-landed. Her eyes stung, and her nose was clogged. A buzzing pervaded in her head. A sense of being completely drained overtook her. Being a crying mess wasn’t how she’d pictured herself…not as Isabella’s mother. I’m not going to cave or overreact when the going gets tough. She muttered to herself, “I can’t always dissolve in tears because of him. This is positively the last time.”

  She got up and checked on Isabella. She pulled up Isabella’s blanket, tucking in her little girl and kissing her soft hair. Her daughter was asleep, with her arm curled around a stuffed tiger. Her child’s innocence stabbed at her heart. Cynthia kissed her daughter on her cheek again.

  Isabella reminded her so much of Rob. Seeing them together, it became even more obvious that their expressions mirrored each other. The resemblance was undeniable. As she thought of him, her chest heaved uncomfortably. The huge door she’d kept locked and bolted over her heart no longer felt as secure as it had these past four years.

  She had no desire to go to war, but she had no idea about Rob or his life. He was still a gorgeous man, and now a successful photographer from what she could tell. So far, she’d refused to keep tabs on him for her own peace of mind. And that had meant no trolling. Only once had she considered searching for him on the Internet. Back when she’d briefly considered telling him during her pregnancy. It must have been during a transition in his life, for she’d found very little about him online. Now, the man apparently had risen like a phoenix out of the flames. This time, she prayed he wouldn’t burn her again.

  Thinking about Rob brought a wave of memories rushing back. Not all were dismal. In fact, some made her shift as though her skin were the wrong size.

  There was no denying he still had the power to heat her body and make her clench. Her breath actually caught at the thought of his mouth and hands on her skin. A ripple of elicit pleasure broke free. Oh, no. Don’t go there. Closing her eyes, she pressed trembling fingers across her eyes, throwing up every ounce of control over her emotions, forcing herself back to the real issue. Her child’s welfare was at stake.

  She’d not let Rob take Isabella if he wasn’t fit to parent their child. She walked down the hall and into her office. Drawing a long inhalation, she booted her computer, convinced she was back in control, immune from his charm. Wasn’t she?

  She typed his name into the search box and clicked her mouse. Holy Moses! This time she found out he worked from home. A rather nice South Beach spot. She scanned the Internet posts. His list of features ran for pages on the search engine. Everything from Vogue to Newsweek and even a feature in GQ. She imagined the type of life he had to lead. Glamorous parties and beautiful women—scads of them—came to mind. She gritted her teeth at the possibility of him being a regular playboy.

  Her skin absolutely crept thinking about his home. A beach house. She’d seen some pretty unusual houses in the ever-changing South Beach neighborhood where he lived. The Internet verified that he did teach some courses, and he was apparently doing very well with his Manhattan gallery.

  She gazed at the images on the computer screen. The pit of her stomach dropped. Rob was no stranger to glitzy cocktail parties or startling, out-of-the-way exotic locations. Dressed in a tux or cargo pants, he was enthralling. This was becoming the torturous event she’d known it would but she couldn’t stop. Not yet.

  Clicking through more images, she gritted her teeth, staring at the pictures of young women swarming around him. It was foolish to expect he’d become a monk since they’d last...spoken.

  He was an unmarried man. She didn’t know if she felt worse or better. She gazed back at the screen, studying his smile. Her heartbeat tapped out a fast beat. Better, better, better!

  * * *

  The sound of his car pulling into the driveway kicked her pulse into overdrive. She glanced around the living room. Everything was in order. There should be no reason to fuss. Jesus, if only her body would listen. She smoothed her skirt as though it might help her ravaged nerves.

  She’d changed her outfit more than a dozen times, and ended up settling on business casual. Proper since this verged on being a type of interview.

  Right. Oh sure. She moaned. Ogling Rob online had unlocked a few rusty deadbolts. Dusty doorways she’d almost forgotten except in her fictional romance world. To say her appetite was whet—Christ, it was aroused to the needling pinpricks shooting up her spine.

  “Exactly what is the open position?” her aunt had asked when she announced her intentions.

  The tone of Tia Sonya’s voice forced her into a moment of truth even if she couldn’t come right out and admit it. Things had rapidly changed. No matter how successfully she’d managed to keep her emotions under wraps these last four years, seeing Rob face-to-face at the hotel had turned into a reunion too hot to deny.

  The knock on her front door reverberated in her chest. Walking from the playroom, she felt herself coming undone. For goodness sake, at this rate she’d be ready to throw herself at him.

  With the doorknob in hand she fought for control. She exhaled, promising herself not to fall. No. Not again.

  Opening the door, she paused, unable to make sense of how handsome Rob looked standing there, and the line of fire she was supposed to maintain.

  “Please , come in.” She stood back, allowing her stomach a couple of backflips at the sight of him in a button-down shirt and jeans. He wore loafers without socks. Her gaze traveled up his pants, stopping at his groin. Heat licked up her neck. His masculinity shook her. Hard.

  She lifted her eyes. Their gazes locked, and without warning, a skittering of tingling pulses shot straight to her belly.

  Standing on her porch, he smiled back at her with an easy-going manner. It was all too easy to focus on his masculine presence. Tan and powerful…but, he was also the man who was trying to take Isabella. She jerked upright and closed the door.

  He held a bouquet, a spray of pink and crimson flowers that, thank goodness, were not red roses. She gave him credit. It would be horrid if either of them attempted a round of false promises, pretense, or bait-and-switch tactical maneuvers.

  “For you and Isabella.” He held out the flowers with a boyish look of uncertainty. “I didn’t know if you let her eat sugar, so these are made from natural juice and pectin.” He displayed a small cellophane bag with a tiny purple bow on his palm.

  The sig
ht of his large hand sent a shiver to all the wrong places in her body. If she didn’t backtrack and find safe ground, this would end badly. For her.

  Time to set the tone. The right tone. And that didn’t involve violins, or sexy candles—or naked flesh. She had to get hold of herself. Cynthia forced herself to see lawyers, manila envelopes, court documents. Not a gorgeous man who’d made her scream his name as she climaxed. Hard.

  She straightened her posture and met his eyes. The same eyes that had left her without returning.

  Check. Cynthia was back to holding a hard line until Rob proved otherwise. “Yes, Isabella loves candy. I keep an eye on her sweets, of course, but I don’t go overboard. She’s in the playroom. I told her you were coming.”

  “I hope she was pleased to hear it.”

  “Anything novel is pleasing to a preschooler. You’d probably do well to get some books to acquaint yourself with the needs of a small child. There are a few I can suggest.” She stopped in the kitchen and set the flowers down on the counter. Lifting her chin, she motioned toward the hallway. “Right this way.”

  The kitchen and hallway shrank immensely with his indomitable presence next to her. Her house was built in an L-formation. One side had two bedrooms, and the other a kitchen, living room, and her office.

  “This is Isabella’s bedroom,” she said, casting him a cool glance. “I don’t know about your house, but it’s easier to keep her toys, games, books, and activities in a separate playroom rather than fighting to keep things in order before bed. I try to pick my battles.”

  She didn’t want him to use Isabella as a learning tool. If she could give him the pearls of wisdom she’d picked up along the way, it would be better for all of them. It wasn’t as if she could force him, if he decided upon another way or even in the event his life came with a girlfriend. Her breath hitched. All of sudden, the hallway receded. She glanced over her shoulder at him, pressing her lips.

  “Before we go in, I’d just like to share some pointers.” Outside the playroom door, she stopped to volunteer a few suggestions, even though she longed to give him a piece of her mind. She reeled in errant thoughts, biting her tongue for a beat. “I’m well aware that this is all new to you. Things boil down to structure. Keeping things from getting out-of-hand. This is the playroom. Soon you’ll see why I’ve contained the Isabella-cane, as we’ve come to know her. You’ll have to quickly learn what you can and cannot do. I don’t suppose you have any experience with small children, do you?”