Nodding once, he left the room, his shoulders sagging. The guy was a lovesick puppy when it came to my sister.
I took a deep breath and let it go. It was time to man up and do what inevitably needed to be done—pride, nerves, forever blue balls be damned. I’d gone through interviewee after interviewee, yet none of them were good enough for my girl. Which meant Max and Lia were right, no matter how much I didn’t want them to be.
The sexy woman I couldn’t stop thinking about might just be the answer to my biggest problem.
Chapter 8
Addison
When I didn’t recognize the number on my phone, I jumped to answer it, thinking it might be about one of the twenty jobs I’d applied for. But when my loud and obnoxious ringtone earned me a dirty look from the librarian, I was forced to answer with a soft “Hello?”
A throat cleared as I half ran, half walked to somewhere more private.
“Addison?”
I stopped, frozen in my tracks right in the middle of the travel and tourism section. Eyes squeezed shut, I pressed my palm against my neck, nervous. “This is she.”
A breath of air shot through the phone. “Come back for a real interview, would you?”
I cradled the phone between my chin and shoulder, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms across my jeans. “Um, who is this?”
Of course I knew who it was. I’d recognize his voice anywhere. But his demand left me feeling not so gracious. So bossy and arrogant, like I’d just up and do what he wanted, when he wanted, where and how he wanted it done.
“Collin Montgomery. Met you at the bar. You know my sister, Lia.”
“Uh-huh.”
He cleared his throat again. “So, would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Come over for a second interview. I’d like you to meet Chloe. I’ll cook dinner.”
Trailing my finger over the book spines, I thought about his proposition. No way did I want to give in so easily—not even when I was coming up empty on the job search. But to drop everything at his beck and call wasn’t something I envisioned happening either.
Still, I was desperate.
“You there?”
“Yep. I’m here.” I popped my lips on the p, pulling out a book. The title was Twenty-Five Tropical Houses in the Philippines.
“Soooo…you good for tomorrow then? Tuesday. I don’t work Monday and Tuesday nights. They’re my only nights off. Your hours would be six at night until six in the morning, Wednesday through Sunday.”
“That so?” I paused, shifting the book back into place. The coolness of the books’ covers calmed me as I moved my fingers over their spines. “Not sure.”
He said something then—something soft. An apology, maybe?
“What was that?” I leaned my back against the wooden bookcase, sliding down to the floor. Pulling my knees to my chin, I tried to smother the grin in my voice. There was something pretty fabulous about making this guy squirm.
“I said I was sorry. Damn it.”
“For what, exactly?”
He groaned. “For being an ass the other night.”
“Okay. But…which night?” I nibbled on my thumbnail.
“Which night,” he snorted to himself. “Fine. The night we met and the night at my house. That good enough for you?”
As good as I could expect, I supposed. “Okay.”
“Okay? What do you mean, Okay? Don’t you think you owe me an apology too? You ditched out on me and Gav the night at the bar after we helped your friend to the car.”
I had run out on him, sure, but what did he expect me to do? Fall to his feet and say thanks to the Big Guy for bringing Number Six into my life?
No. It didn’t work that way.
“I did, yes, but you’re too overwhelming and abrupt. Cornering a woman in a bar and basically feeling her up. Who does th—”
He laughed. “Feeling you up? Oh, don’t think so. You’d know if I were feeling you up. And you would like it.”
My face grew hot, and I threw a hand over my eyes to hide…something. Damn. This guy. The simple thought of his hands on my skin, doing what he said I’d supposedly like, wasn’t an image I could escape either.
“But I am sorry if I overwhelmed you. I have that effect on people sometimes.”
I pursed my lips. “No doubt you do.”
He laughed again, the sound warm and much too inviting. “Won’t happen again though. An oversight on my part.”
I nodded, because my voice had pretty much gone extinct. Sure, this guy, Mr. Macho Number Six, was hotter than Hades, but he was also ornerier than a porcupine with a bad temper. And for him to know my truth, how just the thought of him made my skin tingle, would give him power over me that I’d never hand to anyone.
“We can pretend we never met. How ’bout that? You’re just a woman in need of a job, and I’m just a guy in need of a nanny.”
Ah, there it was. The official title: His Daughter’s Nanny.
“Fine. When? Give me a time, and I’ll be there.” For an interview only, of course.
“Tomorrow night at sex.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Um, excuse me?”
He grunted. “I meant six, not sex. Shit.” Something fumbled on the other end of the line, like maybe he’d dropped the phone. Unable to help it, I giggled.
“You still there?” He sighed. “And that fuck-me comment… You know I didn’t actually mean for you to—”
“Yes. Duly noted. Not what you meant. Got it.” I lowered my forehead, slowly knocking it against my knees twice. Knowing he wasn’t all-the-time suave made him more human to me. And that made him even more attractive than he already was.
“You there?”
“I’m here,” I whispered back.
“Yeah. Fine. Tomorrow, six. Chloe will be here, and my roommates will be working. They work nights too. It’ll just be us three. That good for you?”
No. “Yes. Six is perfect. I’ll be there.”
“Fine, good,” he snapped. “I’ll be…here.”
Snappy and clumsy Number Six was a lot more entertaining than broody, moody, I’m-the-boss Number Six.
“Collin?” Saying his name felt intimate. But it’s not as though I could continue calling him Number Six—especially if I got this job.
Wait. Did I even want this job? I mean, I knew I needed this job—
“Yeah?”
I sighed. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”
For a good ten seconds, he didn’t say a word. And neither did I. Other than the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, the whirring of the heating units above was the only sound around. After another moment passed, he finally sighed too.
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow night, Addison.”
“Addie,” I cut in, sitting up straighter, wincing at my abruptness and not even sure why it mattered. “Call me Addie, please.”
More silence.
“Collin?”
His voice was low, sensual. I shivered at the sound. “Yeah, okay, Addie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
For a good ten minutes after I got off the phone, I sat there, backside numb from the hard, carpeted floor, shoulders aching from leaning against the wooden shelf. Still, the only thought on my mind as I twisted my hands around my cell phone was: Have I just sold my soul to the devil?
And if so, how much would he charge me to give it back?
Chapter 9
Collin
This wasn’t right, this nervous tension coiling inside my stomach. I’d been through shit no man should go through, yet never once had I felt the need to puke my guts out like I did now.
I paced the length of my kitchen, hands sweating.
So what if I had a sexy-as-sin woman coming over to my place? I knew what to do, how to talk to her, how to ma
ke conversation. I wasn’t a moron when it came to women. But then Chloe babbled from the kitchen floor, and I remembered what this was really about.
“Not a date.” I repeated those words in my mind a good number of times as I pulled my casserole mess from the oven. Cheese oozed over the top and I burned my finger, cussing as I dropped the pan on the countertop. Cook dinner, my ass.
“All right, little girl. You ready for this?” Chloe’s fist was wrapped around a wooden spoon she’d been using to pound against the tile floor. Smiling, I scooped her up in my arms and brought her with me into the living room to sit on the couch…and wait.
Fuck, if I didn’t hate waiting.
“This is for the best, ain’t it, girl?” I leaned us back against the cushions. Chloe immediately started crawling up my chest until she had her hand in my hair. Her tiny fingers grabbed the ends, and I leaned my forehead down to touch hers. “Yeah, baby. We’ve got this.”
A soft knock rapped against the door a second later, and Chloe jerked away from me, arching her back like some sort of gymnast. Heart pounding in my chest, I wrapped my arms around her and stood to set her in her playpen.
I felt like a damn fourteen-year-old kid about to go out on a date for the first time. Half-hard, knees weak… If I’d had on boots, there’s no doubt I’d have been shaking in them.
I opened the door, struck in the chest by the beauty standing before me. “Addison.” I exhaled.
I leaned my hand against the frame, needing the stability to stay upright.
Tonight she wore a knee-length, striped skirt and a fitted white sweater beneath her unbuttoned, pink coat. I could easily make out the outline of breasts, her body like an hourglass that I never wanted to end. I swallowed once before meeting her gaze.
Not a date. Not a date.
Even in the near dark, I could see the flush on her pretty skin. The way she wrapped her hands anxiously around her purse at her waist had me realizing something important: I made her nervous too.
Good.
“Hey, can I come in?” She smiled and lifted one hand to wave, like I stood twenty feet away instead of two. It was cute. I could deal with cute.
“Yeah, shit, sorry.” Other than a quick nod and those three words, I didn’t say anything else.
Struck wordless by a woman. Gav and Max would’ve had my ass for that.
I moved back, arm to the side in invitation. Raindrops stuck to her clothes and hair. There was one on her cheek, just below her right eye, and I had to tighten my hands into fists so I didn’t reach up and brush it away.
She wore a beanie hat and those same pink, fingerless gloves that looked like something my grandma would’ve sewn back in the day. “It’s getting nasty out there.” She shivered.
I nodded, helping her take her coat off, my fingers grazing the back of her neck as I did. She watched me the entire time, eyes hooded as I hung her coat on the closet door.
She cleared her throat. “You have a nice home.”
Shrugging one shoulder, I started to lead her into the living room, my hand hovering by the small of her back. She shivered. Again. The soft smile grazing her pretty, pink lips about messed me up. But I decided I liked it more than I hated it, so it could stay.
Not sure what that meant, but I’d figure it out later.
“How long have you lived here?” Those big, brown eyes batted, her dark lashes brushing slowly against her cheeks.
I blinked.
Two times.
Then three.
“Collin.” She snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“Eight months.”
She nodded and bit down on her lip, and all I could think to myself was, Let me do that for you.
My stomach dropped at the thoughts raging through my head.
Not a date. Not a date. Not a date.
“Chloe’s in there.” I motioned toward her playpen, needing this beautiful, forbidden creature to stop looking at me like she thought I was the chocolate to her sundae. One snap of her fingers, and I would’ve been exactly that if she’d ask me to—no hesitation.
I think I liked her better when she hated me. For my sake, I hoped she still did.
Her shoulder brushed against my chest as she moved into the living room. The scent of warm vanilla came off her hair, filtering through my nose and hitting me like a sledgehammer. My throat went dry as I watched her move, all ballerina steps—fluid, natural, graceful—but with something else I couldn’t describe. Something all Addison.
I squeezed my eyes shut. This is fine, right? Thinking the thoughts but not acting on them? I wasn’t doing anything but admiring a pretty lady who was also a prospective nanny for my daughter.
Not a date.
“Hey, peanut.” There wasn’t a lick of hesitation in her words as she crouched down next to my girl in her playpen. Right away, I liked that about her a whole lot. It’s something a good nanny would do.
“We call her Chloe Bean, or sometimes Beaner.” I took a few slow steps toward the couch. “She was a month early, looked all shriveled when she was born.” At least from what I could tell in the pictures.
“Bean, huh? That’s cute.” She pressed her palm flat against the webbed material of the playpen, grinning. Chloe lifted her little hand and did the same. “How old is she?”
“She’ll be one at the beginning of January.”
“Can I…?” She stood and motioned down toward Chloe.
I froze, not sure how I felt about letting this stranger touch my girl. Knew it was going to happen eventually, yeah. Just didn’t expect it to be so soon. All the other interviewees I’d brought in didn’t even look at Chloe, let alone want to hold her.
Still, what else could I do?
“Go ahead. She’s weird around people she doesn’t know. Might cry.”
But I ate my words, watching in awe as Addie picked her up, carried her to the couch next to me, and plopped her on her lap like it was the most natural thing to do.
“She’s gorgeous, Collin. Looks just like you.”
I stiffened. No, she didn’t look like me. At all. Blue eyes, yeah, but her pale skin and blond curls were both from her mother.
Needing off the subject, I turned to Addison and asked, “Hungry?”
“Starved, actually. I haven’t eaten all day.” On cue, her stomach growled, making her face turn all pink once more. I glanced down at her stomach.
Her sweater slipped off her shoulder as she moved. My gaze snagged on her collarbone. Tan skin, smooth, perfect…likely the rest of her body was just as stunning.
She didn’t seem to notice my looking, thank God. Instead, she had my girl on her lap playing peekaboo. And giggling.
Jesus, if she could handle this, why couldn’t I?
I thought back on my last months in the marines. Training with my men for combat, gathering and evaluating intelligence on the enemy—I developed offensive and defensive battle plans, for Christ’s sake, so what was my issue with this one woman?
I rubbed a hand over my face, flustered and screwed.
Orders…I needed to give orders. That’s what I was used to, what I had to do to keep myself in check.
“Bring her in there, and put her in her seat.” I lifted my chin and pointed toward the dining room. When she kept playing with Chloe, ignoring me, my jaw clenched. “Did you hear me?” I stood and walked toward the kitchen to grab the casserole I’d nearly burned my hand off on before she got here.
“Ever hear of the word please?”
I glared over my shoulder at her, finding a smug smile on her face as she stood. Chloe clung to her hip and side like a spider monkey, already mesmerized as she grabbed and pulled on the end of Addison’s ponytail.
“You do know the definition of that word, don’t you?” Her lips twitched.
I narrowed my eyes. “I know it enough.”
At my words, she winked at me—winked at me—only to waltz into my dining room like she owned the place. On the way to the table, she patted my arm and whispered, “Good. Because without manners, there are no life rewards.”
And with her ponytail swinging back and forth behind her back and her cryptic tone still ringing through my mind, she set my girl in her chair and then sat down next to her—in my seat, damn it.
How the hell I’d ever survive this night—let alone the nights to come—was beyond me. With all the training I’d gone through, all the combat I’d seen, from boot camp to the desert, to the throes of war and the sight of constant death, there wasn’t a single thing I could’ve done to help me prepare for this woman.
Chapter 10
Addison
Two hours is what it took for me to get an emotion out of Mr. Broody Pants that wasn’t irritation or rudeness. And that was only because I’d dropped a glob of tomato sauce down the front of my sweater. Apparently the errors of my unfortunate ways gave Collin the sudden gift of laughter. And man, did the sound both make me mad and bring out the flutters of something unfamiliar in my stomach at the same time. Because seriously, any man with a laugh like that was a seductive demon in disguise.
Now I was sitting on his couch, dressed in some oversize rugby hoodie, while my sweater ran through his dryer. My fingers twitched in anxiousness on my lap as I waited for him to tuck his daughter into bed. His amazing, adorable, cherub-faced daughter with whom, after five minutes in her presence, I was already wholeheartedly in love.
As Collin shut the door to Chloe’s bedroom a few minutes later, I sat up straighter, burying my hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt. His lips were tight; his head was down. I almost asked if he’d eaten something sour, but I thought better of it as he frowned at me.
Seriously. What had I done to tick him off now?
The arrogant, playful—albeit still broody-looking—Number Six I’d met at the bar was MIA. This sweet father and mean-mugging man was someone I didn’t know what to do with.
Reckless Hearts Series, Book 1 Page 6