by Madison, Mia
But then I saw it… the amused glint in his eyes. The sexy smirk on his lips. He was playing with me. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want a glass of water?”
Without thinking about it, my hand rose to my breast, cupping it through my shirt, trying to recapture the feeling of his touch. Then I flushed, seeing the hungry way he was looking at me. Hastily, I dropped my hand. “Umm yes, sure.”
Luke strode into the kitchen, and after a few moments, I followed him. He was putting some ice in a glass and filling it from the door of the fridge. The clunk of the ice hitting the glass was almost as loud as the dishwasher I’d started earlier. “Here you go.”
He handed me the glass of water, and I automatically raised it to my lips. And missed. By a lot. The cold water and a few cubes splashed down the front of my shirt. I yelped and lowered the glass, looking down at the front of my now-translucent white shirt.
“Well, that’s one way to cool off,” Luke observed wryly. His eyes were on the flesh-colored balconette bra visible through my shirt. “Let me get you a towel.”
He turned, searching for something to dry me off with, but since I’d reorganized his kitchen, he was looking the wrong drawer. “There are some towels in the—”
“Shh.” Luke put his finger to my lips. “Just stay put and let me take care of you. In fact…” His eye swept up and down my body. Then he bent down, his hands going around the backs of my thighs. The next thing I knew, I was in his arms, my feet dangling off the ground.
I shrieked as he walked me over to the counter, setting me onto it. He grasped my hips, sliding me back so I wasn’t too close to the edge. He winked, his handsome face nearly eye level with mine and then he resumed his search for a towel.
It wasn’t until he stepped away that I realized where he’d placed me—right on top of the counter over the dishwasher. I could feel it vibrating lightly under my ass, a small tingling feeling. Holy crap.
Luke returned, holding out a small dishtowel. Without breaking eye contact, I pressed it against the wet fabric of my shirt.
“It’s strange to be eye-level with you.” Luke’s voice was husky.
“For me, too.”
“I like it, though.” Luke’s hands were on my knees, parting them so that he could press up against the edge of the counter, my legs on either side of his torso. “It makes you easier to kiss.” He wrapped his hand around my neck and pulled me in. Our lips met, and I dropped the towel I’d been holding.
This kiss went from zero to sixty and then some—I was still quite turned on from his hands on my breasts before. And from this playful, masterful way he was teasing me today.
Luke’s tongue pressed against mine, teasing my mouth open wider, making my whole body tremble with need. With his free hand, he groped for the towel I’d dropped, finding it on the counter between my thighs. God, having his hand there… his fingers there…
I moaned, squirming a little. Luke pulled back enough for his lips to curve up into a smile before he claimed my mouth again. He had the towel in his hand, and he rubbed the slightly scratchy material over my inner thighs, both the bare skin and the parts my jean shorts covered.
It felt amazing and made me feel all shuddery and weak, but the next time we came up for air, I murmured, “I didn’t spill any water down there.” Then I winced, cursing myself. Why had I said that? I didn’t want him to stop.
He didn’t exactly stop, but he pulled his head back to gage the expression on my face. “Just because you didn’t spill any water there doesn’t mean you’re not wet.”
Redness rose to my cheeks as I gaped at him. I’d never seen this side of him. The side that could tease me and turn me on so masterfully.
Luke’s fingers had stilled, and I could feel their warmth even though the towel and my shorts. “Too much?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I said instantly and truthfully. “I just… I’ve never seen you like this before.”
His fingers withdrew, and I worried I’d said the wrong thing. He leaned back a few inches so I could see him better. His hands were on the tops of my thighs and I wiggled contently under his touch.
“I haven’t had much chance to play like this in a long while.” He shook his head slowly, his gaze growing reflective. “To tell you the truth, I almost forgot this side of me existed.”
“I’m glad it does,” I said softly. This close, his eyes looked even more whiskey-like than ever.
“Me too. Do you want to—”
But he never got to complete that sentence. The sound of the front door opening threw us both into a panic. Luke hastily stepped back, but he held a hand out for me to help me get down. The twins’ cheerful voices called out as they entered the house.
“I need a minute,” Luke said, and as he stepped away, I could see the bulge in his pants. It looked big—very big. If I hadn’t already been wet that would’ve done the trick.
Hastily, I patted my shirt dry. It was already less damp and no longer see-through. Apparently the body heat between Luke and me had done wonders.
“What smells so good?” Brandon said, bursting into the kitchen.
“It’s bread, right? Homemade bread?” Ava followed him, still pulling off her pink backpack.
And just like that I had to go from full on lust to babysitter mode. I’d never thought before how hard that must be for parents, but I could appreciate it now.
Soon, however, the twins’ cheerful prattle had me back in a G-rated state of mind.
“Are we really having BLTs?” Brandon asked excitedly.
“Your dad says it’s one of your favorites. We’re having BLTs and corn on the cob and salad. Do you guys want to help make it?”
“Yes,” came Ava’s enthusiastic response.
“Except the salad,” Brandon said.
I laughed. “You’ll like this salad. ‘Cause we’re going to make a delicious dressing and you get to decide what kind.” I smiled as the children asked more questions, grateful that Luke had suggested I prepare one of their favorite meals. I brought in my laptop and showed them the dressing recipes I’d found that I thought they might like. “I have the ingredients for raspberry, citrus, or balsamic maple.”
“Raspberry,” Brandon said.
“I want atomic maple,” Ava added.
“Balsamic maple,” I corrected.
“What’s your vote, Gabi?” Brandon wanted to know.
“I actually like the sound of the balsamic maple, too. How about we make that this time and try raspberry next time?”
“Okay,” Brandon said, giving in good-naturedly.
I gave him a high five. “Just for that, you can be the master chef when we make the dressing. Ava and I will be your sous chefs.”
“What’s that?” Brandon said, looking proud at the mention of a master chef.
“Like assistant chefs. You read each step of the recipe, and Ava and I will gather the ingredients and follow your instructions.”
Behind me, the timer went off, and it was time to take the bread out. The twins were intrigued by the perfect-looking loaves and begged for a small sample as soon as it had cooled off enough to try.
But when it was time to make the dressing, Brandon apparently had lost interest in the cooking process. “I want to watch cartoons.”
“Don’t you want to be the master chef?” Ava asked, sounding puzzled.
“You do it. You like cooking more than me.”
The little girl exchanged a quizzical look with me as her brother walked off.
Neither Luke nor Brandon joined us until dinner was ready. But then they were both enthusiastic diners, especially when it came to bacon.
“Excellent meal,” Luke said after he’d finished two sandwiches.
“I made the dressing,” Ava said happily.
“You did?” Luke said, his voice conveying both surprise and admiration. Ava beamed, and I held my hand up to hide a smile. He was wonderful with his kids. “Didn’t you have any help at all?”
“Maybe a littl
e,” Ava admitted, with a quick glance at me.
“Then excellent work, Ava and Gabriel—er, I mean Gabi.”
He flashed a wink in my direction, acknowledging his mistake. No, we definitely weren’t in Gabriella mode, but that was okay. Though I longed to spend more time with Luke, hanging out with his children was generally the highlight of my day.
There’d be time for more adult stuff later—at least I sincerely hoped there would be.
12
Gabi
Things quickly fell into a pattern—one that was lightyears away from the way my days used to be. A couple of mornings a week, I worked for the temp agency. When I had a free morning, I helped around the house as much as I could. Kait had recently gotten fanatical about fixing it up. Working was much more fun when it was the three of us plus one or both of their boyfriends, but I did what I could when they were gone.
Privately, I wondered if Kait was trying to rush through home repairs so that the place would look nicer when Liz moved in. It wasn’t one hundred percent certain that she would, but Sierra had been talking with her and it sounded likely. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Kait and Sierra knew me as well as siblings would. Some days I feared that having another person living with us might mess with that bond.
At Luke’s place in the afternoon, I was mostly in Gabi mode, not Gabriella. He had an interesting and important job, and his income from his books was what his family lived on. As much as I loved being naughty with Luke, I knew he needed time to write and research. Besides, helping him with that and other author tasks was interesting. It certainly engaged my mind—and my English degree—far more than any other job I had had.
Since we didn’t have much time alone during the day, Luke often called me after the twins were asleep. That was one of the many ways he was different than past boyfriends. They’d been content with exchanging the occasional text. But Luke was older, and he still used his phone for calls. Though that wasn’t usually my style, I wasn’t about to argue. I loved hearing his low, rumbly voice in my ear at night.
One Wednesday evening in October, he called at eight—earlier than usual. “Ava wanted to talk to you before it’s time for bed,” he explained, and then handed his daughter the phone.
We had a nice chat for about ten minutes before she put Luke back on the line. “I’m going to tuck them in and then I’ll call you back, okay?”
While I waited, I passed the time by looking up beverages enjoyed by pioneers. Luke was getting farther into the first book of his new series and he needed that information soon.
I answered on the second ring when he called back.
“What did Ava want?” he asked straight away
“She was upset with something her best friend did at school,” I said.
“With Sarah?”
“No, Kylie. Apparently she said something bad about Ava to Devin.”
There was a pause. “Last I heard, Sarah was her best friend, and I’ve never even heard of Devin.”
“Kylie’s the one who gave her that friendship bracelet last week. Didn’t she tell you that?”
“No.” Luke’s voice was clipped.
“Is that a problem? She mentioned it to me when I helped her take it off when we were cooking.”
“I saw it but didn’t ask where she got it.”
I didn’t quite understand the tone of his voice. “Nothing bad happened, Luke. Just a little squabble between schoolgirls. It happens all the time.”
Luke was quiet for a moment. “I guess I’m not used to not knowing what’s going on in her life.”
“But you do,” I protested. “You ask the twins about their school day every time they come home.”
“Yeah. Sorry if I sound surly. I’m just surprised that Ava confided in you instead of me.”
Now it was my turn to hesitate. “Maybe she felt this was something a woman might understand. Does that bother you?”
“Of course not. It’s a good thing, actually.” Luke’s voice was but I was worried I’d upset him. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about their school. Each month, one of the grades hosts a bake sale to raise money for a class project of their choosing. On Friday, the third graders are going to have a bake sale. Do you mind making some things for it?”
I grinned. “I never mind baking. You know that.”
“My waistline knows that,” he said, and he sounded normal again. Except for being a liar. His waist was trim and his abs were firm. I’d felt them pressing against me when he kissed me. It wasn’t a feeling I was likely to forget. “So no research tomorrow, you can just get the ingredients and do your thing. And I suspect I know two people who’d be happy to help once they get home from school.”
“And I suspect your kitchen will soon be coated in a light dusting of flour.”
“Your treats are always worth it,” he said.
I grinned. He was right, but it was nice to know that he’d noticed.
* * *
As predicted, our bake-a-thon Thursday afternoon was messy, but it was also very fun. The twins and I didn’t even stop for dinner. Luke ordered pizza, and by six-thirty, we had lemon bars, chocolate chip cookies, brownies, and chocolate-covered pretzels all boxed up and ready to go.
Which made it all the more annoying when Luke called Friday morning. “Gabi? Are you working this morning? Please tell me you’re not working this morning.”
“I’m not. What’s up?”
“I forgot to take the things you baked when I dropped the kids off at school.”
“They were sitting on the table right by the front door,” I protested.
“I know, but I hadn’t had any coffee and I just walked right past them.”
“Didn’t Ava or Brandon say anything?”
“None of us are what you’d call morning people.”
I had a sudden vision of the twins with the covers pulled over their heads, their bleary-eyed father trying to coax them out of bed. In my imagination, Luke was shirtless and wearing low-slung pajama pants. Mmm… it was a very nice visual.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got a call with my editor, it’ll take the whole morning, and if I cancel, it’s going to put the whole book off schedule. Is there any way you could swing by here and take the treats to their school?”
“Sure. When do they need to be there?”
“As soon as possible, if you can. Each grade level will be able to buy treats when it’s their lunchtime.”
“Okay, let me get dressed and I’ll head on over.”
There was a short pause, and then Luke said, “What are you wearing now?” His tone was deeper than it had been a moment ago.
I laughed. “Nothing nice enough for Ava and Brandon’s school.”
“Come on, tell me. Otherwise, I’ll just picture you in some exotic lingerie.”
Grinning, I said, “Didn’t you just ask me to hurry over there? So be good. Oh, and call the school so they know I’m coming and that I’m not a random stranger delivering sweets.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Luke said, with a sudden drawl, and I laughed again.
“You owe me, cowboy.”
“I’ll definitely make it up to you… Gabriella.”
Mmm… I liked the sound of that.
* * *
The twins’ school was one I’d driven by many times. The receptionist at the front desk checked my ID and then notified Ava and Brandon’s teacher, Miss Finch.
“Her class is at music, she’s coming up here.”
A few moments later, I was greeted by a pretty woman with blonde hair who looked to be just a year or two older than me. I shook her hand, wondering how on earth she handled a whole classroom of eight-year-olds when dealing with just two wore me out some days.
“Thanks for bringing those,” Miss Finch said. “All of the other treats are in the cafeteria, so I’ll take yours down—whoa. You made a lot.”
I glanced down at the stack of boxes. It had taken me two
trips to bring them in.
Miss Finch smiled. “We kind of expected Ava and Brandon’s dad to send something store-bought.”
I grinned. “It was a logical assumption. Can I help you carry these to the cafeteria?”
“That would be great.” We each loaded up with half the boxes and I followed her down the hall. “I’m Maggie, by the way.”
“I’m Gabi.”
She glanced over at me. “Are you… a nanny? Or are you and Mr. Pearson…” She bit her lip and trailed off.
“I’m his assistant,” I said. That was the simplest way to put it, and it actually was one of the roles of my job.
“That’s good. He, umm, seems like he can use it.”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow as she turned to push open a wooden door with her back.
“Yeah, he often forgets things like this.”
“He’s pretty busy,” I said.
“I know, a writer. I heard from the twins’ teacher last year that all the PTA moms tried to get him to reveal his pen name and he wouldn’t.”
Hmm… Luke didn’t exactly shout it from the rooftops, but I hadn’t realized it was a secret. Or maybe he just didn’t want them to know. He’d shared it with me before I even started working for him. It made me feel special to find out he didn’t do that with everyone.
Maggie led the way toward a long table already covered with platters of goodies. We cleared some space and I started arranging the chocolate chip cookies.
“You made all these? They look delicious.”
“Only one way to be sure,” I said, nodding toward the brownie she was eyeing.
She gave me a quick grin. “Thanks. I could use a pick-me-up. How long did it take you to make all of this?”
“We worked for a couple of hours on it yesterday.”
“We?”
“The kids and me. Luke’s not the type to cook. I mean Mr. Pearson.”
Maggie glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. I had a feeling she was interested in knowing the exact nature of my relationship with Luke, but she was too polite to ask. Instead, she said, “Even Brandon?”