by Eve Langlais
Moore stepped closer, and she didn’t move away, even though he invaded her space. This close, she was forced to tilt her head to maintain eye contact. She felt electricity in the air, snapping between them. Breathless anticipation.
Her heart raced, and she, who was never nervous, had butterflies.
“I lied. I didn’t come out here because of Nico.” Moore lifted a hand and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I noticed you wandering and had to come see you.”
“Why?” The word escaped on a whisper.
“Because I wanted to do this.” He leaned in and kissed her. His mouth slowly caressed hers, a cautious exploration.
She could have shoved him away. Slapped him. Bitten his lip.
However, his touch ignited something within her. A flame started low in her belly, and it tingled. Warmed. Made her yearn for more.
She grabbed the back of his neck and drew him closer, deepened the kiss, caught his lower lip for a suck, letting her tongue slip between for a taste.
He made a sound—half-groan, half-sigh—and chased her tongue back, sucking on it. His arms came around her, his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to him, close enough that the rigidness of his erection pressed against her lower belly. His hand skimmed upward, tracing the lower edges of her ribs—
Reality slammed into her. If he kept touching, he’d find her gun. He’d ask questions. She’d find out how deep the koi pond was.
She pulled away. “We shouldn’t do this.” A lie that ignored the fact that her lips tingled, her sex throbbed, and she wanted nothing more than to sit him on the stone bench and straddle him. She did none of the above. She stepped around him and headed to the house, expecting he’d act at any moment. Grab her. Demand more.
Instead, he chose to murmur, “I know we shouldn’t. I just can’t help myself.”
Chapter Nine
Hands in his pockets, Philip watched Carla walk into the house, a habit he’d fallen into. A nice view each time.
He’d probably lose his man card for admitting it, but damn if he didn’t feel tingles when she was around. As for the kiss they shared? Explosive. At least for him. She, on the other hand, didn’t seem as affected given she’d left.
Probably for the best. Getting involved wasn’t the brightest thing he could do.
So why had it happened? He should have stayed inside, yet something had possessed him to track her down when he spotted her from a window. An urge—no, a need—to talk to her. Be with her.
When he found her, he heard her on the phone and shadowed her steps, waiting for her to finish. He’d caught some of her conversation and saw her shoulders slump as she’d discussed moving. Obviously, not an option that pleased.
Defeat wasn’t a good look on her. It made Philip want to make promises that he couldn’t be sure he could keep. Made him want to tell her not to worry because it would turn out all right. A dumb thing to vow since he couldn’t be certain of that.
Seeing those slashed tires on her van had made him wonder if something sinister was afoot. First the drive-by incident, and then the vandalism. Maybe someone had it out for her.
Was that why she’d called him out of the blue and said “yes” to his offer of getting Nico an invite for tryouts? A trip out of town provided a convenient escape.
It sure took Mr. Oliveira by surprise when Philip had called him to mention the news.
“She agreed to bring him for a tryout. We’ll be arriving late-afternoon. I booked a room at the Hilton for them.”
“Cancel it. I want you to bring them here,” his boss had ordered.
“I can’t do that. She’ll refuse.”
“Then convince her.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
In the end, it had proven easier than expected. Philip had walked in and out of a few hotels, claiming they were booked solid. Luckily, Carla hadn’t caught on that he lied.
Still, he had to wonder if he’d done the right thing. When he’d taken the job, Oliveira had made it sound simple.
“I need you to do something for me. I’m interested in a specific boy for the academy.”
“Then why not send him an offer?”
“I don’t think the mother will agree.”
“Then send Kyle to convince her.” Kyle being the main coach at the academy.
“I can’t spare him, not with finals coming up.”
Hence how Philip had ended up taking over for Coach Mathews—who’d been more than happy to leave once a higher-paying position opened up near his girlfriend. Philip had expected it to take longer to convince Carla. The incidents played in his favor, which made him wonder…
Surely, Oliveira wasn’t involved in her recent issues.
He stared at the house. The massive mansion owned by a man who didn’t let much get in his way. Even a little thing like morals.
After all, look at what he had Philip doing for him. Security was only part of his job. The other part would land him in jail if he ever got caught.
Coaching and convincing a woman to bring her son to Oliveira, though? That was new. Strange. Concerning even.
It was too late now to wonder what his boss really wanted with Nico. Also too late for Philip to come clean with Carla. She probably wouldn’t react well to finding out that he’d lied to her about Oliveira and everything.
She was right. They shouldn’t be kissing.
Even if it had been a most excellent kiss.
Chapter Ten
Carla woke the moment her door opened, then relaxed, easing her fingers away from the gun hidden under her pillow. Nico bounced in with a grin a mile-wide.
“Wakey, wakey, Mami!” he crooned.
She feigned a grumpy mien. “Wake? Are you insane? It’s the crack of dawn. An ungodly hour.”
“It’s almost seven o’clock.” Which, in a child’s mind, was plenty late.
“What’s the rush?”
“I wanna check this place out.”
The curiosity brimming in her son didn’t mean she allowed free rein. Carla sat up in bed. “This isn’t a place for us to go running around in.”
“Then I’ll walk.” Spoken with the stubborn insistence of a child.
“How about we don’t go poking our noses anywhere we shouldn’t.”
Nico’s lips turned down. “I wasn’t going to break nothing.”
“I know, mijito, but until we meet our host, we need to be good guests. Not everyone wants sticky fingers touching their things.”
“My hands aren’t sticky!” Nico exclaimed, holding them up for inspection.
Carla held in a sigh and was saved from replying by an interruption.
“Don’t worry about the boy.” Moore appeared behind Nico, already dressed, hair brushed. How dare he look so impeccable when she’d spent part of the night tossing and turning. For more reasons than her current problems. The man had wormed his way into her thoughts and affected her body. A body that craved something more than sleep.
Her irritation showed in her response. “I will worry because I don’t need to get a bill for something that costs more than I make in a month.”
“Mr. Oliveira wouldn’t charge you. So stop worrying. Besides, Nico is light on his feet. The whole reason we’re here. He won’t knock anything over, will you?”
A rapid shake of Nico’s head and a hopping dance from one foot to another was her son’s reply.
“Why don’t you head downstairs and see if breakfast is served,” Philip said. “They make the best fresh waffles with whipped cream I’ve ever had.”
“I love whipped cream.” Nico’s eyes lit up, and he was gone before she could open her mouth.
Carla turned a glare on Moore. “Really? You’re going to encourage sugar this early in the morning?”
“A little bit of sugar won’t hurt.”
“Says a guy with no kids. Sweets make kids hyper.”
“He’ll burn that energy off soon enough with his roaming.”
“I don’t want h
im roaming,” she reiterated.
“Why not?”
Was Moore being purposely obtuse? “Because this isn’t our home,” she exclaimed.
“It’s also not a museum. Let the boy be a boy.”
“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” she grumbled, swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress. The sleigh bed sat high off the floor, lofty enough that her short legs didn’t reach. She did a hop and stretched as she landed, only realizing a moment too late that he watched, his eyes trained on the strip of skin between her T-shirt and her jersey shorts.
She was decently dressed, yet her entire body flushed with heat, her nipples hardening. Something she couldn’t hide. Her arms didn’t cross her chest fast enough. He noticed.
His gaze, when it met hers, smoldered. Carla couldn’t help recalling the kiss. Moist heat pooled between her legs. Treacherous body.
“About last night,” he said.
“It never happened.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” He stepped farther into the room but left the door open. “Don’t you dare pretend there isn’t something between us.”
“No need to pretend. There is nothing.”
“That kiss wasn’t nothing.”
No, that kiss was a smoldering fire waiting to ignite. “I’ve had better.” At her obvious lie, his brow arched.
“Is that so? I hear a challenge.”
“Don’t you dare kiss me again.” Said with a breathlessness very unlike her.
“Or what?”
“I should get dressed and find Nico.” She gave Moore a verbal nudge to get him to leave.
“The boy will be fine for a few minutes. I, on the other hand, am feeling a need to prove you wrong.”
“How?” Said in a soft murmur as he stepped closer. She should move away. Yet her body betrayed her.
“I think that kiss did mean something.” He moved close enough that she had to tilt her head. Close enough she could lift on tiptoe and nibble that firm jaw.
“I meant what I said last night. We can’t get involved. You’re Nico’s coach.”
“Only until the big game, which is days away at this point. And you’re making excuses. Don’t tell me you’re scared to kiss me again?” Moore said with a mocking tone.
The dare was obvious. It didn’t stop her from acting. She rose to the challenge and pressed her lips to his, a tingle spreading through her body. Her lips parted on a sigh as he kissed her back.
Oh, how she wanted to take the kiss one step further, but she remained in control. She shut down her desire and stepped back, uttering a husky, “Happy now? I’m not scared of kissing you.” She was frightened by the things he made her feel. Emotions were the problem. “But I’m also not about to bang you in your friend’s house.”
His gaze smoldered. “Then I guess I’ll wait until we’re elsewhere.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she exclaimed, even as more heat pooled between her legs.
“Maybe not, but I did. I’m going to kiss you again, Carla Baker.”
“Not now, you’re not. I need to get dressed and find Nico.” She used her son as a shield against Moore’s allure.
“I’ll go wrangle him. Grab a shower, take your time…” His lips curved knowingly.
Asshole.
Pretend-hating him didn’t stop the quiver between her legs.
Moore shut the door as he left, and she almost followed. Wanted to open that door and drag him back in, perhaps see if she could tempt him into taking a second shower.
The very idea made her freeze.
The last time she’d let her panties make the decisions, she’d ended up in an abusive relationship.
She’d also ended up with Nico.
It had gotten her family killed.
But Philip was nothing like Matias. The guy wore collared shirts for God’s sake. He drove a sedan that still held the new car smell. He worked. And not as a drug dealer or enforcer.
Still, it was a rule of hers not to casually fuck people she might have to deal with in the future. As Nico’s coach, even if temporarily, Moore fell under that heading.
But I am planning to move, and even if I don’t, he’s not sticking around.
She shook her head to clear it of the naughty thoughts trying to sway her. She wasn’t so hard up or horny that she needed to break her own rules, good rules, to get laid. If she wanted some cock, she could hit a bar and get lucky in an alley within twenty minutes.
Problem being, that thought didn’t appeal, so obviously she wasn’t as horny as she thought. Blame it on Moore’s good looks and the fact that seeing him being nice to Nico had messed with her hormones. Must be getting close to that time of the month.
A half hour later, her damp hair pulled back in a ponytail, she skipped down the stairs, gun tucked safely away in her suitcase, leaving her armed only with the knife in her ankle sheath.
The stairs were a grand affair, polished wood with black wrought iron railings, all of it gleaming, scratch-free, and large enough to handle an army of debutantes. Hitting the foyer, the floor was comprised of large tiles—marble she thought, although she could be wrong. Stone and décor weren’t her fortes. Another reason she didn’t work for KM Design. She would wager that whatever it was, came with a hefty price tag, as did the console table of ornate wood in the middle of the entryway, adorned with a fancy bowl of fresh flowers.
The only flowers she owned was a colourful plastic bloom in a flower pot that Nico had painted for Mother’s Day a few years ago.
Matching arches led left and right from the foyer, living room on one side, formal dining on the other. She was relieved to see no one in that staid room. The dining table, set up to seat more than thirty people, intimidated.
Not spotting Moore or Nico, Carla started to walk down the wide hall. Halfway down the massive corridor, she heard a familiar giggle.
What mischief was Nico getting into? Given she’d raised her son to have manners, Moore had more than likely done something to make her boy smile. Philip did have a way with her son, which only improved his appeal.
Jerk. Carla didn’t want to like him. She really needed to work on finding something to ruin the attraction. Maybe he scratched his balls and didn’t wash his hands. Or chewed like a cow when eating.
Walking in the direction of the giggle, Carla abruptly stopped as an older man emerged from a doorway. Not much taller than her, slightly heavyset, wearing a crisp suit in a steel gray color. His tanned skin was offset by the white of his hair.
He stared at her, his dark eyes not revealing anything.
Her hand itched to grab her knife, even though the man made no menacing movement. Yet something about the way he held himself set off her danger radar.
“Who are you?” she demanded, never mind the fact that he probably had more right to be here than she did.
His thick, white brows rose. “Your host. You must be Carla Baker.”
Shame at her rude query almost made her apologize, but Carla didn’t give in. She held herself tall. “I am. Which means, you’re Mr. Oliveira.”
“Call me Luiz.”
The offer appeared friendly, yet something about this man bothered Carla.
“Thank you for your hospitality. I hope to be out of your hair by the afternoon.” As soon as she had a chance to go online and hunt for a hotel.
“No need to do that. I’d prefer you and the boy stay here.”
“Prefer?” She arched a brow.
He tried to smooth things over. “I’d like for him to stay so I can get to know him. And you.”
Know them? That was the dumbest excuse she’d ever heard. Being blunt by nature, she didn’t throw any punches. “Drop the bullshit. Why are we here? What do you want with Nico?” Because this was obviously about her son.
For a moment, his expression flashed with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. Regret. Anger. Then a placid mask with a hint of humor took over. “Who wouldn’t want to tempt an up-and-coming soccer star? I want him to
play for the academy.”
“Do you offer all your potential recruits a free place to stay?”
“Would you prefer I charged you?”
“Yes,” she said without thinking.
“Sorry to disappoint. There won’t be a bill. As you can see, my home is more than large enough to host a child and his mother.”
“A child who is curious, and at times noisy.”
“Your point being?”
Her lips flattened. “I’ve already told him to keep his hands to himself, but you might want to set some boundaries. He’ll take it more seriously if it comes from you.”
“What if I don’t want to set any? He’s a boy. Boys are curious and daring by nature.”
“Sometimes, things get broken when they’re too daring.”
The man shrugged. “Things can be replaced. It’s important for children to explore and test boundaries. Even if, sometimes, it involves going against their parents’ wishes.”
She frowned. “Nico’s a good boy.”
“Never said he wasn’t. Speaking of whom, where is he? I’d like to meet him.”
The man said all the right things, and yet there was something off about his replies. About this whole situation. Until she knew more, Carla would watch him. Like a hawk. Especially around her son. “You want to meet Nico, then find the waffles and whipped cream.”
“Breakfast of champions,” Oliveira exclaimed. “Shall we?” He swept his arm, gesturing for her to go ahead. As if. Leaving anyone at her back, even a man as old and seemingly benevolent as Luiz, went against her nature.
“You know the way. I’ll follow.”
With a shrug, Oliveira moved with quick steps down the hall to an archway at the far end, saying over his shoulder, “They’re in the breakfast room.”
How many rooms did a person need for meals?
The man disappeared, and she took a moment before following, standing in the doorway, taking in the scene. The sun-dappled space was framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the morning sunlight and gave a glimpse of the pool, its waters gleaming and pristine. Beyond the fencing around it, she caught peeks of the garden she’d wandered.