by M. S. Parker
A few people gave me appraising looks, but I ignored them, drinking my beer and playing deaf to the conversation going on behind me.
Not for the first time, I found myself thinking…She must be crazy.
Brinke had taken off. Even though I was trying not to listen, it was impossible not to pick up on that much. She was crazy. She had a guy like Paxton. How could she not appreciate him? And their daughter was amazing. I knew that from just one day.
If I had a family like this, I might not have minded the thought of settling down.
Chapter Thirteen
Leslie
“Thanks for asking me to come with you, Carter.” I rubbed my cheek against her hair. Her shampoo was strawberry-scented. “I had a lot of fun.”
“Me, too. New York isn’t too ter’ble, I guess.” Her voice was a sleepy mumble, a smile on her face as we pulled up in front of their building.
“Gee, thanks.” I rolled my eyes at Paxton. He sat watching us, his expression unreadable. The car stopped and I eased Carter upright, stealing a look at the time. After midnight, whoa. No wonder she was all but asleep on top of me. “Well, sweetheart, it’s about time for me to go. I’ll turn into a pumpkin soon.”
The driver opened the door, but before I could slide out, Carter found her second wind, grabbing my hand. “You can’t go yet!”
“Carter, honey…” Smoothing a hand down her hair, I smiled at her. It was impossible not to fall in love with her. “It’s late. I need to go, and you need to sleep.”
“But…” She squeezed my hand and watched me with big, imploring eyes. “Just a few more minutes. You…you didn’t get to see my bedroom!”
Paxton remained silent throughout the exchange, and I finally shot him a look. I didn't want to intrude, but I also wasn't sure I could say no to Carter either.
Our gazes locked and he hitched up a shoulder. “It’s up to you, Leslie.”
Great. I gave Carter a smile. “Sure, honey. I’d love to see your room.”
Although I was exhausted, saying no seemed impossible. I could face the angriest people on the stand and face down the most hard-ass judges, but one six-year-old child made me crumble. As we climbed out of the car, a thunderous crack tore through the sky overhead, bouncing off the buildings and echoing through the concrete canyons of New York City. Lightning followed closely after.
A split second later, the rain started. Although rain wasn't entirely accurate. It was a downpour.
We all rushed for the awning just a few feet away, making it under just in time to avoid being completely soaked as the skies opened up. A doorman rushed out to meet us halfway, an umbrella already open in his hand.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Gorham.” The doorman lowered the umbrella once we were all under the awning. “That blew up out of nowhere.”
Paxton shook his head, flicking some rain out of his eyes. He’d shoved Carter and me under the umbrella, racing to the awning ahead of us in the rain, so he got the brunt of it. With an easy smile, he shrugged at the doorman. “No problem, Pete. It’s just rain. We don't melt. At least, Carter and I don't.” He slanted a look in my direction.
I rolled my eyes. “I'm pretty sure I’m still intact.”
Carter giggled. “People don't melt, Daddy.”
“People don't,” he said. “Witches do. Haven't you seen The Wizard of Oz?”
Following them into the elevator, I made a face at him, making Carter laugh again. “Are you calling me a witch?” I made my voice sound indignant.
“What makes you think that?” he asked easily, leaning back against the wall and meeting my eyes.
My heart lurched, then started to race. Licking my lips, I dragged my gaze away and looked at Carter. “Okay, let’s see this awesome room of yours.”
As we exited the elevator, the lights flickered. Carter barely noticed, her hand clasping mine as she tried to drag me to the door, but both Paxton and I stared out the window as rain lashed and wind howled.
Dread curled inside me as I thought about driving through this, and I struggled to keep my voice calm as I told Carter that we would have to make the trip to her room a fast one.
She sounded unconcerned as she called back, “Okay,” over her shoulder.
We were halfway up the steps when Paxton caught my hand, tugging me to a halt. Sensations raced across my nerves. Damn.
“Why don’t you stay?” he asked, his voice low.
I gaped at him, but he just shoved his phone into my hand.
Bemused, I looked down. It took two read-throughs to make sense of the message. By the time I’d read through a second time, my phone was buzzing, and I suspected it was an identical message, a severe weather alert text.
Severe weather blah blah blah torrential rains blah blah blah flash flooding could occur blah blah.
I pushed the phone back into his hand. “That’s kind of you.” I was damn proud of myself, the way I was able to look at him and hold his gaze without completely melting. The rain wouldn't do it, but Paxton Gorham could. “But I’ll be okay. I’ll catch the subway instead.”
“You want to go outside, down into the subway, with a flash flood warning going on?” He raised an eyebrow. “Thought you were a native New Yorker. You know what can happen in the subway during a flash flood, right?”
Groaning, I turned around and continued on up the steps after Carter. “It’s not going to keep up long enough for that to happen.” Although the subways had flooded not that long ago, it wouldn’t happen again.
But the rain continued to pound down and lightning flickered in sporadic intervals as I rounded the corner where Carter had disappeared.
It would stop soon enough, I told myself. Just enough time for Carter to show me her room.
Except, twenty minutes later, it was still coming down.
Torrential rains indeed.
Brooding, I stood downstairs at the floor to ceiling windows while Paxton finished tucking Carter in.
I should have just taken the subway from where we'd watched the fireworks. I would have already been home before the rains hit. My car would have been fine here in valet parking. But Carter had been curled up against me and it'd been too hard to let her go.
I’d hoped the rain would lighten up. It had, for maybe five minutes, but now it was coming down in a hard, driving rhythm, showing no signs of letting up. My stomach sank with the realization that this storm wasn’t going to pass any time soon.
The lights had flickered a few more times, but Paxton told me there was no danger of them going out. The building, naturally, had backup power.
“Have you seen reason yet?”
Looking back, I saw him jogging down the stairs, his feet bare.
For some reason, the sight struck me as unbearably sexy. He had a light growth of stubble on his face, and his hair was messy. I wanted to mess it up even more.
Dammit.
“Reason?” I asked.
“Yeah.” A smirk curled his pretty mouth and he shrugged. “You would think that a lawyer, of all people, would be reasonable.”
I shot him a dark look before turning back to the window less than a foot in front of me. “Staying here would be, well, let's just say beyond the boundaries of what would be considered professional.”
In the reflective service of the window, I could see him as he moved up behind me, so I had some warning. Still I had to take a steadying breath, disguised as a sigh, as Paxton came to stand next to me, muscled arms crossed over his chest.
Jutting his chin out toward the lightening show taking place outside the window, he said, “In my opinion, it may not be professional, but this is what I think would be considered extenuating circumstances.”
I had to admit, he was probably right. Still…
Shaking my head, I said, “When Brinke comes home, the cat may be out of the bag.”
At least that was a better reason than I don't trust myself not to jump you.
“She's not coming home.” His voice was flat. Without saying anyth
ing else, he turned on his heel and strode away.
After a moment, my brain processed, and I turned to follow.
I caught up with him in the kitchen, found him standing at the counter, splashing some whiskey into a glass. He tossed it back and then lowered the glass to the counter, setting it down hard enough that I was almost afraid it'd break.
“Was that Brinke who'd called earlier?”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Yeah.” He turned those angry eyes toward me before he continued, “Apparently, my dear wife had to rush to a friend’s side due to an emergency. Her friend had to have an appendectomy, and she doesn’t have any family so somebody just had to be there for her.”
The look on his face was so cold and cutting, it almost hurt me – and he wasn’t even angry with me.
“Any chance it’s the truth?” I asked.
“Hardly.” He lifted his empty glass and studied it, almost mesmerized. “Unless of course her friend has the ability to regenerate body organs. She fed me the same excuse, with the same friend less than a year ago. That time, it was Carter’s first day of kindergarten. Carter was heartbroken.”
Silence fell between us, and he slowly lowered the glass. I watched as his eyes moved back to the bottle.
For a moment I thought he was going to pour himself more, but to my surprise, he simply put the bottle away. Then, with slow, methodical precision, he washed the glass out and put it in the dish rack.
“I know what it’s like to be addicted.” His voice was a monotone. “I know how hard it is to fight that demon. I also know you can beat it...if you want it enough. Brinke doesn’t want it enough – want us – enough.”
I had been staring at the cabinet where he’d put the whiskey. He turned and saw me watching. My face flushed as I looked at him.
He asked softly, “You think I’m tempting fate?”
“Yes,” I said bluntly.
“Alcohol was never my poison,” he responded with a shrug. “Cocaine was my addiction. Tried heroin once or twice. Hell, it’s a wonder I’m even still alive.” He paused, and then added, “It’s a wonder Brinke is still alive.”
This was one thing that I could discuss from a professional standpoint, I knew that. But why didn’t I feel like I was doing it for those reasons?
“You know, for Carter’s sake, you probably shouldn’t drink it all. At least not in the house.”
Paxton’s eyes narrow to slits. Lifting a hand, I held his gaze. “Look, she’s got a rough deal already. You know that. Some part of her knows that her mother is lying to her, and as she gets older, she’ll understand more and more. It would be better for her if her father didn’t drink around her.”
“Do you see her down here?” Paxton glared at me.
Choosing my words carefully, I took two more steps into the kitchen and stood behind the island. “No. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know. Kids see more than people think. I’ve been a lawyer long enough to learn that lesson, and I see it time and again in court.” I hesitated then, not wanting to add to the weight he already carried, but he needed to know. “Look, there’s another thing you need to consider. Let’s look at this from another angle. Let’s say I was representing Brinke. If you were trying to claim you were the steadier parental figure, and yet you drank while you had her in the house, I would dig into your history, and use it against you.”
Something flashed in his eyes – it almost looked like hurt.
He took another step toward me while that hurt burned into anger. “I’m not a fucking drunk,” he growled.
“You’re not listening to me,” I said gently but firmly. “I’m telling you how a good lawyer would argue it. I’m a damn good lawyer, and that’s what I’d do. Whether you have a problem or not – and I don’t think you do – that wouldn’t be the issue. Divorce is all about mud-slinging.”
“I’m not planning on slinging mud!”
“You won’t have to.” Sighing, I braced my hands on the counter. “She’s covered in it, and she likely knows that. And I'm sure she's not an idiot, am I right?”
“What’s your point?” he demanded.
“She’ll find a good lawyer. Her lawyer is going to know that Brinke is a disaster, and the only chance Brinke has is to make you look like even more of a mess than she is.” His face tightened and I held up a hand. “The opposing counsel will have to go to the wire to even have a fighting chance. Trust me, I'm good at my job. But, you can’t have any dirt for them to find right now. Period. In court, all it can take is the suspicion of doubt. Especially for the father. Is that what you want?”
A moment later, he turned away and moved back to the cabinet. As he did so, the t-shirt he wore rode up, baring a flat, lean belly. My fingers itched to touch the cut muscles, and I busied myself with the fascinating surface of the island’s smooth surface. Marble, I wondered?
Something splashed.
Jerking my head up, I saw him pouring the whiskey down the drain.
His eyes held mine the entire time.
When he headed in my direction, I started to back away, but he cornered me against the island. Frozen in place, I stood there, unable to move. The heat of his body reached out and caressed me.
Something clunked.
Then he was gone, striding out of the room.
Dazed, I looked down and realized he’d dumped the bottle in a recycler. Over his shoulder, he called out, “Are you going to stay?”
There was another thunderous crack.
The lights flickered.
Lifting my eyes to the skylight far overhead, I blew out a breath.
Despite my better judgment, I said, “Yes.”
Chapter Fourteen
Leslie
The room Paxton showed me to was along the lines of what I might have found if I’d given in and indulged myself to a five-star hotel. But unlike a hotel, this place was clearly a home. A guy’s home. I’d almost swear that no woman lived here. Well, other than Alex, but she was Carter’s nanny, and her apartment was one floor below. That was different. I knew she was off for the next few days too. She'd had a recent death in her family and he hadn't wanted to push. Paxton apparently believed in treating his employees well.
And his guests. There had been fresh, brand new pajamas for both men and women in several sizes in the closet, as well as toiletries, and now I was back to standing in front of yet another window. “He does like his views,” I murmured, watching as rain pounded the city.
Such a panoramic scene usually would have made me smile, especially in this weather. I liked storms.
Tonight, however, it made me melancholy, and I turned away, staring at the bed. I needed to get some sleep, but I was strangely energized. “Strangely.” I snorted at the fanciful thought because there was really nothing strange about it. I was too worked up at the thought of sleeping so close to Paxton.
So close, but so far away…
“At this rate, I’ll never sleep.” As I turned away, my purse sitting on the chair caught my eye, and I remembered the antihistamines I kept in there in case my allergies flared up. There was bottled water in the fridge. I’d go get some, take the medicine, and in thirty minutes, I’d be out. And probably dreaming of Paxton, but at least I’d sleep. Then I could wake up, leave this living temptation before I got myself into trouble.
It was the first smart thought I planned on following all day. Opening the door, I listened, but everything seemed quiet. Slowly, I made my way down the hall. The penthouse was large, the layout relatively simple, but I’d never been here before, and with all the lights out, it was definitely confusing.
Once I found the kitchen, I got myself some water from the mammoth refrigerator, then took a moment to crack the bottle open and take a drink. And on the way back to my room, I promptly got lost.
Swearing under my breath, I backtracked, and stood at the hall I thought led to the guest quarters. It didn’t look familiar, though.
A door opened and I spun around, heart racing.
Paxt
on stood framed in a wedge of light, a bathroom behind him, and a towel slung around his hips. Water rolled down his chest and I found myself thirsty, as if I’d been wandering the desert for days.
“Um…”
I couldn’t get anything else out.
“Everything okay?”
All my life, words had come easy to me, but now they seemed frozen in my throat and all I could do was lift the bottle of water. “Got lost.”
Paxton stepped forward, and my gaze followed a bead of water as it rolled down his throat to his chest. I stared, mesmerized, before jerking my gaze up to realize he was staring at me just as intently.
I didn't think it was my imagination that his voice was a little rough when he spoke. “Back to the end of the hall, right, then past the living room, and left.”
“Right.” I swallowed. “Right, then left.”
His lips curved. “Don’t go right twice.”
“What? No, I was just…”
He jerked his head. “Come on. I’ll walk you.”
“I don’t…” But he was already walking, and if I stared after him, I’d be tempted to grab that towel and yank. My hands were practically itching.
Catching up with him, I busied myself with taking the lid off the water, cooling my burning throat with another sip.
“Thanks for being so cool with Carter. Alex is great with her, but she…well, Brinke is really starting to do a number on her head. Her teachers have talked about how needy she is.” His jaw clenched a little.
“She’s a sweetheart. It’s not hard to have fun with her.” I stared straight ahead, seeing the open door of my room.
“You wouldn’t be able to tell by the way her mom acts.” His bitterness laced every word.
“Her mom has problems. You know that.” I made the mistake of pausing in front of my door, looking up at him as I spoke.
He looked down at me, that cold anger flashing in his eyes. It faded as he reached toward me. When he touched my cheek, all the oxygen in my lungs seemed to disappear.