Undercover with the Nanny

by Cathy Skendrovich

  Taking advantage of the alone time, he clenched his fists and opened them, relaxing the muscles that had tightened at the thought his men might actually get some new intel on Cabrera and Ortiz tonight. Now, it was his turn to investigate Kate. He couldn’t help the zing of eagerness that thought brought.

  Sawyer followed the sound of Bobby’s high-pitched voice and Kate’s sultry one, right into the great room. They were in the open concept kitchen, both their heads bent over what looked like two plain pizza dough rounds. Bobby was smearing sauce on one, while Kate covered the other.

  They hadn’t heard his approach, so he stood in the background and weighed the danger of sneaking off into other rooms on this floor and planting his surveillance devices. He decided to wait. Bugging Cabrera’s office was a coup, but he needed to tread carefully. If the opportunity presented itself, hell, yeah, he’d bug the crap out of the place, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t gain entry farther into the house tonight. Not with Cabrera’s plan to return.

  Besides, he’d already decided he would play hard to get and decline even if Kate asked him back to her place later. He needed to build on their attraction, make her crave his company. Once he had her where he wanted her, so to speak, then she might lower her guard, and the truth of her ties to Cabrera and Ortiz would be revealed. He was sure he could maintain his professionalism when that moment came.

  …

  “Mr. Hayes, we’re making pizza.”

  Kate looked up as Sawyer approached. When she’d found him in Mr. Cabrera’s office, her heart had jumped into her throat. Why was he there? Was he looking for something to steal, perhaps a safe behind the painting? He seemed like an upright kind of guy, but perhaps she’d let her attraction to him obscure her better judgment.

  For example, when Hayes said he was a fan of modern art, she had a hard time believing it. Although her boss ate up the coach’s adulation, it didn’t convince Kate. Contrary to his words, Hayes didn’t seem the type to like indeterminate scribbles. He was too precise a guy. She didn’t know how she knew it. She just did. Should she be suspicious of him? Or was she being stupid? She didn’t know, and, now that he was close, she didn’t care.

  “I noticed. A very healthy-looking one.”

  She forgot the question of Hayes’s behavior and jumped into the current conversation. “Do you have a problem with eating healthy?”

  “Not at all. I even put something green on the menu every once in a while. But the words healthy and pizza should never appear in the same sentence.”

  God, was he appealing. Tawny hair curled on top of his head, and his cheeks and chin shimmered with a golden five o’clock shadow. Once again, she noticed how the jersey he wore molded to his arms and chest like neoprene, emphasizing muscles that invited Kate to run her hands over them. She clenched her fingers against the temptation. Instead, she pursed her lips and studied the pie in question, inhaling deeply before speaking.

  “I’ll just add some fresh spinach, peppers, a little bit of parsley and oregano, and then top it off with pineapple and mushrooms. Oh, and goat cheese. A truly healthy pizza.” Forgetting her questions of a moment ago, she met his gaze without blinking.

  His bottle-green eyes searched hers, his lips parted, and she could barely contain her amusement. He glanced around, spying Bobby, who’d been a spectator during this exchange.

  “We don’t want no stinkin’ pizza that’s good for us, do we, Bobby?”

  The boy shook his head, looking from his coach to Kate. She automatically backed up, sensing uneven odds as Sawyer continued.

  “You grab one arm, I’ll grab the other, and then we’ll tickle her until she says ‘Uncle,’ okay?”

  Kate snatched Bobby and used him as a human shield while he squealed, keeping him between her and a grinning Sawyer. She’d never liked being tickled, had always figured it was a guy’s way of copping a free feel. This time she avoided it because she thought she might enjoy it too much. Sawyer had large hands that she liked, the kind that could pull a woman close and make her feel…wanted. Needed. Protected.

  “Chicken,” he accused, stalking them while Bobby wiggled in her grasp. “You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.” He feinted to the left, and she stupidly dodged. He reached out with his right hand and dragged Bobby out of her clutches. The boy turned traitor and began digging his little fingers into her sides, while Sawyer pulled her back against his front, tickling her waist with his free hand.

  “Stop,” she shrieked, giggling against her will, gasping for breath as his forearm brushed the underside of her breast.

  “Not until you promise to throw some pepperoni on that pizza. And bacon and sausage. Got it?”

  He must have given some signal; Bobby quit tickling her and stepped back, grinning from ear to ear. She’d make him pay, the pint-size accomplice. He was enjoying this too much. She growled and twisted in her captor’s arms, not ready to give in yet. Then she froze, and his fingers stilled. Something rigid nestled against her butt. She realized what it was as a hot blush spread up her chest and throat, into her face.

  OMG. He had an erection as hard as granite, and dear God, it turned her on. Before she thought about it, she pressed back into him, stifling a groan. He dropped his hands from her body like she’d burned him, and backed away. She whirled, gulping a shuddering breath at the molten desire that flashed his eyes from cool jade to radiant emerald.

  She bit her bottom lip and caught her breath, willed herself not to collapse onto that broad chest that heaved up and down with each of his labored breaths. His gaze dropped to her mouth. She licked her lips as if he’d kissed them. He tracked the movement.

  “We want pepperoni, we want pepperoni,” chanted Bobby, ripping through the sensual spell weaving around them. Kate dropped the hand that had found its way to her throat, and she heard Sawyer clear his. He shook his head and broke their visual connection. She looked down at the pizzas on the counter, tried to slow her staccato breaths.

  My God, what had just happened? Her body thrummed like she’d indulged in foreplay, only to be sent away before the final act. She hardly ever wanted sex, yet Sawyer made her hot and bothered after a simple round of tickles in the kitchen. With a child present, no less. Speaking of which—

  Kate interrupted her sexual thoughts by lunging at Bobby with claw-like fingers. He provided the perfect escape.

  “You’re going to pay for your defection, my pretty!” She called on her inner Wicked Witch and chased the boy around the island and into the great room, with him screeching all the way. As she ran by Hayes, she told him to toss whatever meat he wanted on the pizza.

  When she and Bobby returned, him panting while she draped an arm across his bony shoulders, she found Sawyer had decorated the pizzas with the pepperoni, as well as sliced olives. He’d left all her veggies on, showing that he wasn’t as allergic to healthy food as his earlier comments had implied.

  She turned on one of the two professional grade ovens and soon had popped the pies in to bake. Bobby set the table, and in no time, they were seated around it, munching on pizza, carrot sticks, and cold milk. Sawyer teased Bobby about having a milk moustache, while he sported one just as big. He had the boy giggling through most of the meal with silly talk, and she was amazed at their easy camaraderie.

  Bobby got along better with adults because he hung around them predominately, but she was surprised at how well Sawyer communicated with the child off the field. He teased and joked, and didn’t talk down to Bobby. Not only was he sexy as sin, he also knew how to handle children—a potent combination.

  She thanked her sensible self for seating the child between Hayes and her. After that embarrassing moment when she’d pressed her butt against his rigid length and moaned, she didn’t think she could sit beside Sawyer and maintain mild conversation. What she wanted to do was reach out and grab him beneath the table, see if he was still sporting a hard-on for her. Find out if he would lose control again like he did during last night’s kiss. And those thoughts
were so wrong, she lifted her glass of milk with both hands, just to keep them occupied.

  After they’d cleaned up the kitchen without any sensual explosions, the three of them settled onto the larger of the two white leather sofas facing the sixty-inch TV. Kate allowed Bobby to be the host, setting up the Blu-ray before plopping between the two adults with the large bowl of popcorn Kate had popped. Sawyer stretched his long legs out in front of him and his arms along the couch back, nearly touching her neck. She fought the urge to lean back, brush against his fingertips. Would he caress her skin, or pull away? She swallowed the lump in her throat and sat still.

  While Bobby pointed the remote at the TV, he chattered endlessly about the Peanuts gang. He’d missed the movie when it had been in theaters. Sawyer conversed back, evidently having been a fan of the characters when he was young. Kate closed her eyes to the sound of their voices, which faded away as the cartoon commenced. She tried to follow the story, but since the two males all but ignored her, she soon found herself drifting off.

  “Hey, Munroe. Wake up.”

  Kate surfaced from a dream where she was skinny dipping with Charlie Brown, while Lucy yelled “Blockhead” from the shore. She blinked herself into the present to find the movie credits rolling on the TV screen and Sawyer Hayes standing before her, the popcorn bowl cradled in his large hands. A heavy warmth plastered against her side drew her attention. Bobby had fallen asleep as well and was curled alongside her. She looked at Hayes again.

  “You two passed out before the halfway point. I ended up watching the whole thing by myself and eating way too much popcorn. No one was awake to stop me.”

  She stood, sliding Bobby to the couch. He grunted but didn’t awaken.

  “Sorry about falling asleep. Was the movie any good?” She gathered their glasses off the coffee table, and Sawyer followed her into the kitchen. She bumped the refrigerator with her elbow, not fully awake. As she rinsed and placed the glasses in the sink, Sawyer put the bowl on the counter next to her.

  “It was okay. I like the original cartoons better.” His breath wafted across the nape of her neck, warm and slightly buttery smelling. She risked a glance at him. His face was so close she could count his eyelashes. Her hands stilled in the sink.

  Oh, crap. His eyes gleamed with good humor while his lips tilted up in a half smirk. His expression, his stance, those shoulders, tempted her to reach out and touch him, and she was too groggy from her sleep to fight the invitation.

  She couldn’t remember why she was so wary of him. All she could think was how wildly attracted she was to him, and how much she wanted to kiss his lips again. She reached out with her right hand, cupped it behind his head, and pulled him toward her.

  His hair was thick and springy to the touch. He let her pull him toward her, his gaze arresting hers. Now that he’d acquiesced, Kate lifted her other hand to Sawyer’s shoulder, felt the muscles bunch under it, and closed the distance between their mouths.

  Chapter Ten

  Kate was kissing him. Sawyer didn’t know why this fact stunned him, since they’d kissed before, but it did. She’d leaned forward and planted her lips on his, and his head spun like he’d just gotten off a carnival ride.

  Her palm at the back of his head anchored him, luckily, but it burned where she touched. The image of her handprint seared into his scalp would’ve been funny any other time. At this moment, all he did was grunt and move closer. She stumbled against the kitchen counter, but didn’t release their lip lock.

  Warning bells clanged, but he ignored their chime, like he’d been disregarding them since he’d met her. His boss had told him to get close to her, and he couldn’t get much closer than he already was, except if they were naked. At this moment, he was willing to strip for his country.

  What was he thinking? She’s a suspect. This was wrong, on so many levels. He’d told himself that all along, had been sure he could pull back, but with her lips covering his, her tongue demanding entrance, he capitulated with barely a struggle. Her scent overpowered his convictions, what she was doing to his mouth scrambled his brain. He couldn’t fight what he’d wanted all along.

  Accepting his weakness with relief, he dove into the kiss like he did most assignments: all in. He opened his mouth, a blatant invitation. Her tongue hesitated at the entrance, flicking about like she was lost, so he took control.

  He raised his hands, cupping her face. Her hands slid down to his chest. He held her still, while plunging his tongue into her mouth. She gasped, her breath fanning around them. God, she tasted good, better than before, when he was fighting the attraction. His surrender made this moment so much hotter. Their tongues mated. He sucked. She moaned.

  His body was on fire. Every part of him strained toward her. He wanted to dominate her in the most primal way, cover her body with his, take her, over and over, until they screamed their release. The strength of his desire staggered him, made him rough. His fingers kneaded her scalp, then dropped to her hips, pulling her into his body.

  He pressed her against him, so she could feel how hard she made him. She moaned and ground herself against him. He thought he heard her mutter, “Oh my God,” but he wasn’t sure. Her reaction spurred him on, as did her hands, sliding into the waistband at the back of his shorts and cupping his buttocks.

  His hips bucked as her fingers molded his ass. It was his turn to gasp, “Christ, Kate,” while he thrust against her, in time with the rhythm of his tongue in her mouth. God, her touch made him wild. He reached back, grabbing her wrist and sliding her hand to his front, wanting, needing her fingers to encircle him, squeeze him—

  She tugged her hand free, pulled it out of his shorts. He almost threw a tantrum. Couldn’t she tell he’d given her the green light, that there would be no hesitation on his part? Damn, another second and he would have been in heaven, but now he was so stiff he ached. He opened his eyes, and their gazes collided. Hers was filled with passion, laced with a surprising amount of sorrow. It was the sorrow that stopped him.

  He had to bite his bottom lip, hard, to keep from begging her to reach back in his pants and pump him dry. His body wanted that, hell, yeah, it did. But, in a moment his brain would start functioning again, and he didn’t want to regret anything more than he already did. And he knew he would. Because of that sadness.

  It took him by surprise, for it made her seem vulnerable, immature, unsure. And Kate was none of those things. That knowledge cooled his ardor, had him reaching once more for her hands. Not to place them over his fly, but instead, to lift them to his mouth. He kissed the palms of each of them, tucked her fingers in to form dainty fists. He covered them both with his larger ones.

  His breathing slowed as he studied her face, watched the passion in their depths leech to suspicion, and then to disbelief. She’d expected him to fight her, perhaps even use force? What kind of schmucks had she dated before?

  He inhaled, steadying his careening pulse. His mind, which had indeed creaked into gear, warred with his libido. Be a gentleman, he silently recited. Even if she shoved her hands into your pants and grabbed your ass, she’s changed her mind.

  But, damn, it had felt so good while it lasted.

  “I’m—I’m sorry,” she began. He shook his head, holding her gaze, but she continued. “I don’t know what came over me. I don’t usually act like that. Not with someone I haven’t—”

  “We need to quit apologizing for how we feel. First me, after dinner the other night, and now you. We’re hot for each other, Kate, yet for some reason we don’t want to act on it. Well, at least, you don’t want to. I think we both know I damn well do.” Here he cocked a half-grin. She glanced down and then back into his face, biting her bottom lip. Yeah, it wasn’t going away anytime soon, not when he was around her.

  The sadness returned to her gaze, and his heart dropped in his chest. He wanted to pull her close, tell her he cared about her beyond the sexual attraction. Reassure her that she didn’t have to be alone. He would stand beside her, face her prob
lems with her, and hold her tight when life knocked her flat. It was a beautiful scenario, until he remembered he couldn’t promise her any of that, not as long as she was a suspect in a case he was actively investigating.

  He swallowed the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he lifted her hands again and began kissing the individual knuckles on each. He may not be able to tell her how he felt, but maybe he could show her.

  She jolted, but she didn’t withdraw. Taking that as a positive, he singled out a pinkie and sucked it between his lips, watching her reaction. She gave a tiny moan. He sucked again. This time she pulled it from his mouth, and the resulting pop was loud in the silence.

  “Stop it. You’re right, Sawyer. I like you. A lot. And I don’t go for smooth Southern boys, which beats the heck out of me.”

  Her sour tone was like water splashed in his face. He’d been on the verge of making promises he couldn’t keep, but she’d brought him back to earth. It stung, knowing she was still fighting their mutual attraction, but it was for the best. With silent thanks, he reached out and stroked her rumpled hair behind her ear. She reared back with a glare. He grinned and raised his brows.

  “But I’m not looking for a man, and for sure not a bed-warming relationship.”

  His smile widened at the description. They wouldn’t just warm the bed; they’d set it on fire, if they ever reached one. She frowned.

  “Stop grinning. I’m kissing you off, here, Hayes. The least you could do is look hurt.”

  He barked a laugh. This was such a non-kiss-off, and she didn’t even know it. Relief swamped him. Her mouth said one thing, but her eyes, those big baby blues, told him the complete opposite. Them, and the way her body swayed toward him. Now that he wasn’t fighting their mutual attraction, it was easy to see how hot they were for each other.

  “You’re saying those words for your benefit, Munroe, not mine. I wasn’t looking for a ‘bed-warmer,’ as you so colorfully stated, either. But, I can tell when I’m fighting a losing battle. I want to be with you, and not just for a casual hook-up. I want to get to know you. Do you like walks on rainy days? Is it picnics or black tie? Not just whether you prefer sex fast or slow. Hell, yeah, I want to get naked with you. That’s a given. And, so do you, if what you did a minute ago is any indication. But that’s not the sum-total of my interest.”