by Abby Gaines
Then there were those touches. He didn’t know what it was about that woman, but every time she touched him, he felt as if he’d been set alight. It had taken all his willpower just now not to react to the featherlight touch of her hand against his jaw.
Her hand…his jaw…
Tyler sat bolt upright. Dammit, Bethany had given him the signal.
He leaped out of bed, fatigue forgotten, only one thought in his mind.
Get to Bethany. Now.
He barged into her room without knocking, cursed when he stubbed his toe on what felt like a book. It was pitch-dark; he heard scrambling movements as she sat up in bed. “Tyler? Is it Ben?” She sounded alert, worried.
He reached the bed, fumbled for the lamp on the nightstand, snapped it on. She blinked at him, her face flushed, tilted toward him so that a minimal movement would join his mouth to hers.
“You gave me the signal,” he said.
She dropped her gaze. “What signal?”
“I was tired, it took me a couple of minutes to click. I’m sorry.”
“Oh…that.” A forced laugh. Her fingers plucked at the duvet. “I’d forgotten already.”
“I’m here to take you up on your offer.”
Panic widened her eyes. He might have known she’d get cold feet. She’d had such difficulty getting this far, when from day one Tyler had seen it as their obvious destination.
“It wasn’t an offer.” She pulled the bedclothes higher, up to her neck. “I changed my mind.”
He tugged the duvet so sharply that the unexpectedness made her let go. “Oh no you don’t.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, stopped her moving away from him by simply putting a hand at either side of her. “I’ve been waiting forever for this.” Bethany snickered nervously. “I’ve been here not quite two weeks. That’s hardly forever.”
“It feels like ten years.”
“That’s because I nag you.”
“It’s because I want to do this,” Tyler corrected her. He leaned in, kissed her, wanted desperately to devour her. But that would likely scare her off, so instead he took it easy. Which had the unexpected and very pleasant benefit of allowing him to fully savor the sweetness of her lips in a way he didn’t remember doing since he was a teenager. He murmured against her mouth, “You don’t get to change your mind now.”
All the same, he pulled back a little.
“I suppose it would be rude,” she agreed, her eyes fixed on his lips.
Yes! He kissed her again, harder, felt the response of her mouth to his. Her lips parted and he went in. This was what he’d been waiting for; it felt even better than he’d imagined…and he only realized now just how much imagining he’d done.
She made a mew of pleasure as her tongue met his. He pushed her back against the pillows and lay down so he was half on top of her, pressing into her delicious curves, soft against his hardness. Her arms went around his neck.
Bethany abandoned herself to the delight of Tyler’s kiss. His hands stole beneath her pajama top, caressed the skin of her waist, sending her arching against him. His thighs were hot against hers, combustible.
If she didn’t stop right now, she wouldn’t be able to stop at all. She didn’t want to stop. Then she remembered, and suddenly, stopping was easy. She shoved hard against Tyler’s chest.
“Hey.” He pulled away, surprised. “What’s wrong?”
“You went out tonight. With Miss Georgia.” She pressed her palms to her cheeks, but her hands were as hot as her face and didn’t cool her.
“And?” he said impatiently.
“Did you think you’d go straight from her bed to mine?” Bethany swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, to erase the imprint of his two-timing lips.
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t treat women like that. I told you, Sabrina’s not my girlfriend.”
So, Miss Georgia had a name.
“Do you really think I’d kiss you like that if I was dating her?” he demanded.
Who would have thought playboy Tyler Warrington had a streak of decency? He looked so offended, Bethany decided it would be impolitic to answer. “So you’re certain she wouldn’t be upset about…what we just did?”
He laughed, incredulous. “You’re worried about her feelings?”
Bethany shifted up the bed, so she was semi-upright. “I don’t steal other women’s men.” Not that she’d ever been in a situation where that was even a remote possibility. But it seemed like a sensible rule.
Tyler wanted to laugh at the seriousness with which Bethany was treating a kiss. A great kiss, a hot kiss…but just a kiss.
Trouble was, Bethany didn’t take anything lightly.
“So,” she said, “you’re not dating her, and you’re kissing me like that…”
She wanted to know if she and Tyler were dating.
Did he have to decide that right now? Before he’d even finished kissing her?
Typical of Bethany to complicate matters.
One part of him wanted to say yes, then take her to bed to seal the deal.
But maybe having a baby in his life was making him more cautious, because what stopped him from acting on that impulse was the thought of tomorrow and the day after.
If he was honest with himself, he’d admit that his attraction to Bethany was just a little out of control.
He thought about her all the time. About kissing her. And other things. Disturbingly, not all of those things were physical. He wasn’t used to being preoccupied with a woman, and it didn’t seem a smart place to be.
Especially not with Bethany, when they were living under the same roof. Things could get tricky.
He measured her lips with his gaze, resigned himself to the fact he probably wouldn’t taste them again anytime soon. He shuffled down the bed a bit. “I’d rather not overanalyze what just happened,” he said. “We kissed, it was nice.” Understatement. “Let’s not suck all the fun out of it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think talking takes the fun out of a relationship?”
Definitely. “You think we have a relationship?” he countered.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “We have an attraction,” she said tentatively.
“Agreed.” He watched her face in the lamplight, the progress of her thoughts across her face.
“But in your mind that doesn’t lead to a relationship, not even if we kiss and…stuff?”
Tyler shifted at the thought of stuff. “A relationship is based on more than attraction.” He felt the way he had when he’d talked to the divorced dads about parenting—out of his depth.
“That’s true,” Bethany said. “And the fact is, I’m here to ask you for money, nothing more than that.”
Couldn’t she forget the damn money?
“Getting close to you emotionally could screw things up.” She bit her lip. “And chances are, you and I don’t have anything in common, apart from that attraction. A relationship would be an unnecessary risk.”
“You could be right.” Had he misread her question about relationships? Was she saying she was up for no-strings sex? Tyler’s entire body went on alert. He moved so he could see inside her pajama top, the first few buttons of which were undone. He got a glimpse of an enticing, pale swell of breast.
“I mean,” she said, “you’re rich and famous.”
He dragged his gaze up from her cleavage just long enough to shoot her a wary look.
“And I’m intelligent, hardworking and caring. So, Tyler—” she paused and the silence made him look up again “—I don’t think this is going to work, do you?”
She held his eyes as, with deliberate movements, she refastened all the buttons on her pajama top.
CHAPTER NINE
ON MONDAY MORNING, Olivia set an unsolicited cup of coffee on Tyler’s desk. Since he usually had to ask her to bring coffee at least three times, her consideration inspired suspicion rather than gratitude. He sat back, waited.
“I’ve met someone I like,” she said.Tyler
stuck his fingers in his ears. “I don’t want to know.”
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is,” Tyler said bitterly. He couldn’t believe Bethany had ended up giving him the brush-off on Saturday night. No matter that common sense told him it was the right thing to do. “You’re always meeting men you like,” he reminded Olivia. “You’re worse than I am. With women,” he clarified.
“I like this guy more than the others,” Olivia said.
Tyler looked at his secretary. She was very attractive, slim, always well groomed, her graying hair carefully highlighted. Olivia was a class act. “I’m sure he’ll like you back.”
“I doubt I’m his type. I think he’s looking for someone…deeper.”
“Ouch,” Tyler said. Because neither he nor Olivia was good at deep. He had the same problem with Bethany, who was—He pulled himself up. “Don’t you have girlfriends you can have this conversation with?” he said. “Like my mom?” “I don’t want your dating advice,” she snapped. “I need a favor.”
“I’m not going to ask him if he likes you.”
She laughed, but without enthusiasm. “It’s Silas Grant.”
It took a moment. Then: “The frog weirdo!”
Olivia didn’t object to having her romantic crush referred to as a weirdo. Tyler figured that was for obvious reasons.
“Olivia, have I been putting too much pressure on you?”
She plunked herself down in a chair with none of her usual elegance. “As if I’d let you. I know it’s crazy, Tyler, but I like the guy. Now, are you going to do me this favor, or do I have to call your mom and have her order you to help me?”
“You’ve told Mom you like Frog Guy?” he said, incredulous.
“Of course I haven’t.” She shuddered. “Please don’t make me.”
He sighed. “What’s the favor?”
“Let Silas pitch to the PhilStrat Committee.”
She’d never tried to influence how the foundation spent its money before. They both knew she was overstepping the mark. But Tyler couldn’t get angry. Sometimes, you met someone who made you want to act out of character. He was strong enough to resist that temptation, but Olivia obviously wasn’t.
“You think that’ll impress him?” he asked.
“It’s the only thing I’ve got.” The words fell out of her, startling both of them.
“Take it easy, Olivia,” Tyler said.
She grimaced. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. It seems like only yesterday you were—”
Tyler held up a hand. “This had better not be about my bare baby bottom again.”
She clamped her lips together. But only for a moment.
“Did you know Susan asked me to be your godmother when you were born?”
“No,” he said, surprised.
“I refused, told her it wasn’t my thing.”
He nodded. Olivia had doubtless been too busy partying.
She crossed her legs, flexed one black patent-leather shoe. “It wasn’t true. I just didn’t think I’d be a very good godmother.”
“Of course you would,” he said automatically. He couldn’t see that godmothering was too difficult a task.
Olivia took his assurance more seriously than he intended. Her smile might have been skeptical, but her eyes lit up. “You really think I could have done it?”
“I wish you had,” he said, and realized he meant it. “Instead, I had Lyddie Hudson telling Mom that, ‘dear Tyler would look so adorable wearing a suit and tie to church, you really must have him fitted.’”
Olivia shuddered. “You were only six—I never saw a kid look so uncomfortable. I couldn’t convince Susan to get rid of that suit until after you put a hole in the pants, climbing a tree.”
Tyler narrowed his eyes. “You dared me to climb that tree.”
“Did I?” she said innocently.
He grinned. “I definitely wish you’d been my godmother.”
“If I’d known how fond of you I would eventually become, I might have accepted,” she said, surprising him again. He had a lot of affection for Olivia, and he’d assumed she felt the same, but it wasn’t something they talked about. “Truth be told,” she added, “I didn’t like you much at first.”
“Even with my cute little…?” He waved in the direction of his behind.
“Even with that,” she said dryly. “Your mother was so besotted with you, it was painful. She loved Max, of course, but I’ve never seen anyone as potty about a baby as she was about you.” She laughed. “Susan couldn’t think or talk about anything else after you were born.”
“Sounds horrible.” One thing about Bethany, no matter how devoted she was to Ben, she had plenty of time and energy to tell Tyler where he was going wrong. He chuckled at the thought.
“I was jealous,” Olivia admitted. “I’ve known your mom longer than I’ve known anyone else—she’s the person I’m closest to in the world.”
Tyler shifted in his seat. “I guess we’ve all matured since then.”
Her smile was wry. “Right now, I feel about twelve years old. I don’t know what to make of this thing with Silas. I’m so confused.”
“Sounds like it.” He couldn’t imagine what the attraction was.
“When you’re twelve years old,” Olivia said, “you’re so hopeful. Dreadfully naive, but there it is.”
Tyler sighed, spread his hands on the desk. “Fine, tell your boyfriend he can pitch to the committee. As long as he gets a haircut.”
Olivia beamed, and for a second she did look like a girl, a hopeful, happy kid.
“Maybe you should trust your instincts,” he said abruptly.
She stood, considering him. “Maybe you should trust yours.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? He wasn’t the one who felt like a twelve-year-old. “This conversation is not about me.”
She tutted, but she was still smiling. “That makes a nice change.”
Troubled, Tyler watched her walk out of the office. Olivia had fallen for Silas hard and far too fast, which she had a habit of doing, as he knew from her multitude of past engagements.
But he’d never seen her put herself out for someone before. He’d never heard her talk about her fears, her hopes.
The world was turning upside down, and Tyler didn’t like it.
WHEN OLIVIA CALLED Silas with the good news that he could pitch to the PhilStrat Committee, he didn’t say anything about her presence outside his house last Friday.
So maybe he hadn’t seen her. Had he been wearing those glasses?She made herself believe he hadn’t, because otherwise she’d be too embarrassed to proceed with her plan. It would be so blatantly obvious that she’d checked out his material wealth before she took this step.
“There’s not a lot of time before the pitch meeting,” she said casually, “so I thought I might…help you.”
“Hmm,” he said, neither encouraging nor discouraging.
“I know how the committee makes its assessment, so I can make sure you cover all the bases,” she said. “And I’m a whiz with PowerPoint.”
She was learning not to rush him through the silences he seemed to enjoy.
“That’s very kind of you,” he said at last.
Was it Olivia’s imagination, or did a thread of amusement run through the words?
She was glad she couldn’t see him. She clutched the phone tighter. “Would you like to come to my place on Wednesday night so we can plan your campaign?”
He thought about it. “Yes,” he said, “I believe I would.”
TYLER HAD BEEN out of sorts the past couple of days. Ever since that kiss.
Since Bethany felt the same, though in her opinion she was doing a better job of hiding it, they didn’t talk much. And they definitely didn’t touch. They passed Ben from one to the other without the slightest contact.As she fed the baby his dinner late Tuesday afternoon—Ben had graduated to rice cereal or pureed vegetables served in his high chair for his evening meal—Be
thany admitted that, as far as the baby was concerned, Tyler was shaping up better than expected. He gave his two hours every day, without argument. He took Ben out with him, often to a media interview. Bethany never heard him speaking to Ben in a way that was anything but kind, if disinterested. And he changed diapers, if not with enthusiasm then with tolerance.
“I think he likes you,” she told Ben.
Tyler had shown less tolerance toward the pamphlets about kidney disease that she’d taken to leaving around as part of her new stealth campaign. She found a bunch of them in the wastepaper basket in his den. And the Your Kidney and You poster she’d pinned to the back of the bathroom door was unceremoniously torn down within hours. She never found it.
The head of Bethany’s research team had called her yesterday to see if she would be rejoining them anytime soon. But while he was hopeful the team’s budget might be expanded in the second half of the year, right now there was no money to pay her beyond what she could get out of the Warrington Foundation.
Which was big fat nothing. Nagging Tyler hadn’t worked. Not nagging hadn’t worked. And her strategy of getting him to fall in love with Ben and throw cash at her research was…well, that wouldn’t succeed overnight.
The doorbell rang, interrupting the dismal inventory of her progress.
“Just a minute, sweetie,” she told Ben.
On the porch stood the most gorgeous specimen of womanhood Bethany had ever seen. A blond, bronzed bombshell. Tall, slim, but with curves. Enticing curves, by anyone’s standards.
“You must be Miss Georgia.”
The smile was wide, warm, wonderful. “Sabrina Merritt,” she said. A magical name for a magical creature. “Also known as Miss Georgia. And you’re Bethany. May I come in?” She held up a small Tupperware container, as if it was some kind of admission token.
Doubt—and guilt—assailed Bethany. Could Tyler really not be dating this woman? And what if Miss Georgia was in love with him? What if she’d guessed about that kiss and wanted to confront the woman who was after her man? Maybe Bethany should just confess now that she’d forgotten the beauty queen’s existence when she’d issued that reckless invitation to Tyler to kiss her. Let the woman club her to death with the Tupperware, and be done with it.