Undercover with the Nanny

by Cathy Skendrovich

  He broke their kiss abruptly and scooted on his elbows farther onto the bed, pulling her out of her nest of sheets and onto his prone body. He’d startled her, he could see it in her face, but he wanted to be in her. This kiss had shot him from foreplay to main act in a hurry. He hoped he wasn’t acting like one of the rubes from her past, but damn, she was built for sex. With him. Now.

  He wanted her in a take-charge position. Her lack of confidence in the bedroom was out of character. She should be bossing him around, like she did in every other aspect of her life. Frigid, his ass. He’d meant what he’d said. Only men without skill blamed the woman. Kate practically exploded whenever he touched her, and the same went for him.

  But, at the moment, she straddled him, motionless. He was going to cry like a baby if she didn’t get into gear soon. He raised his hips slightly, his erection nudging her through his shorts.

  “We going to waste this?” he asked, earning a quick grin as she met his gaze. He did it again, and she reached for one of the foil packages splattered across the night table. She’d gotten the message at last.

  He wiggled his shorts down his hips and then stacked his hands behind his head. They’d come together countless times last night, but whenever she laid her hands on him it felt like the first time. He almost hoped it wouldn’t be as good this time, just so he could snatch back his equilibrium.

  But, no, as she rolled that piece of protection over him, after muttering, “Waste not, want not,” as she took him into her body with that little hitch of breath that turned him on, the fireworks started all over. Holding back wasn’t an option. He couldn’t do it to her, not after she’d exposed her fragile self-doubts. And he couldn’t do it to himself, because he was a selfish, greedy bastard.

  Instead, he ran his hands over her body, loving the feel of her satiny skin under his fingertips. He skimmed every rib, explored every indent between them. He found every beauty mark, and every blemish. He cupped her breasts, molding and sculpting them to fit his palms, thumbing her responsive nipples until they tightened into mouthwatering peaks. And then he leaned forward to taste them.

  She bucked and began riding him to the rhythm of his sucking, up and down, faster, faster, the glide of her body over him acting like a whip to a mount. He thrust into her quicker, as she accelerated the tempo. Her hands massaged his chest, and he grasped her buttocks for something to hold onto.

  It was happening again, that spiral out of control, where he nearly blacked out from the intense sensations rising in him. Their harsh breathing battered his ears, rising to a crescendo along with the unexpected orgasm that plowed over him like a rogue wave. He gave a giant thrust into her, in hopes of carrying her along with him, and was relieved when she began keening, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over, her muscles clenching around him at last.

  They rode the storm out, prolonging it until the last little quiver of pleasure left their bodies. Only then did she curl against him on a contented sigh, her hand over his rapidly thrumming heart and her legs twined with his. As he pulled the sheet up and over their bodies and wrapped his arms tight around her, he wondered one more time, what the hell he was doing.

  Sometime later, after two showers, since he ended up with company during the first one, Sawyer left Kate taking her do-over, and refreshed his coffee. He double-checked the office, which looked secure and innocent, and checked his phone. And grimaced. Ramirez wanted an update. Thoughts of what he could and couldn’t say bombarded him. He’d been told to get info on Kate anyway he could, but he knew damn well that hadn’t meant in bed.

  A knock on his door startled him out of his guilt fest. Shoving his phone into the pocket of his shorts, he opened the door to find Ian standing on the mat. Shit. He’d forgotten the guy was coming over today. Kate was scrambling his brains.

  He stepped out with the younger officer, forcing him to back up. Ian frowned when Sawyer met his look, then glanced away.

  “You got company, boss?” His glance behind them would reveal nothing. Sawyer had pulled the door almost shut.

  To lie, or not to lie. There really was no question. He hadn’t lost all his principles, especially when it came to his team. If they couldn’t trust him to tell the truth, they wouldn’t work with him. With the current bend to his standards, they might not anyway, but let that decision be made because of his choices, not his truthfulness.

  He leaned his shoulder against the porch wall. “Yes, I do.” They stared into each other’s faces for long seconds before Ian looked away, swearing like Gordon Ramsey on a bad cooking day. He paced down the walk, pivoted, and returned to the porch, running one hand through his short-cropped hair.

  “Geez, Sawyer, what were you thinking?” The fact that Ian had used his first name, instead of the usual title of “Boss,” spoke to the younger man’s state of mind. A few beats of strained silence stretched between them as loud as a shout of disapproval. Sawyer answered truthfully.

  “I couldn’t fight it any longer, Ian. As soon as I met her I was attracted to her. I thought I could separate that from my job. I can’t. I don’t know what it is about her, but I can’t resist her. When I’m with her, nothing else exists.

  “I went into this with my eyes wide open. I know what’s at stake. And I can still do the job.” God, he sounded pompous, like all those procedural police dramas clogging the TV at any given moment. But, it was true. He’d made his decision knowing full well the consequences.

  “Can you, boss? What if she’s guilty? Can you put her in jail? What if she’s telling Ortiz all your pillow talk right now? You gonna hang us out to dry for a game of grab-ass? Is this case, is Guerrero’s near-miss, all going to go down the tubes because you had to go down on her?”

  Anger pulsed through Sawyer, a dam burst of fury that had him clenching and unclenching his fists, choking on the nasty bile rising in his throat. Even if he had done exactly what Ian said, they were fighting words. They made last night cheap, a mutual itch-scratching session when it had been so much more.

  He glared at Ian, who raised his chin as if welcoming the chance to slug it out. But then Sawyer noticed the hurt hiding in the back of his teammate’s eyes, the pain lurking in the shadows, and he sighed, shoulders sagging.

  He’d disappointed Ian, not just as his leader, but as the younger agent’s idol. He’d known Ian looked up to him, had liked the fact that someone wanted to emulate him. And he’d taken pains to show the younger man the right way to do things. Until Kate had come along. Now he was a Who’s Who of bad ideas.

  He opened his mouth to say…something, anything that might stop the cloud of disappointment from eclipsing Ian’s whole expression. But, through the closed door, they both clearly heard Kate call, “Sawyer? Where are you?” And they froze.

  Ian started backing off the porch. Sawyer raised a hand.

  “Ian, wait—”

  The younger man waved him off. “You’re busy, boss. I get it. Don’t worry. This doesn’t go any further than me. I’ve still got your back. We all do. But you’d better start thinking, and thinking hard. Instead of getting head, you’d better use your head, and figure out where this case is going. You owe it to us, and to Guerrero. And especially to yourself. Make sure your career is worth a piece of ass. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Sawyer watched Ian leave, and that nasty taste in his mouth threatened to roll his stomach. He spat in the bushes. There had to be more than two choices. He refused to believe it boiled down to either Kate or his career. He wasn’t sure he could make that decision if it was. There had to be a third option, a winner-take-all alternative. He refused to accept anything less.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Run, run, run!”

  The opposing team’s parents screamed in unison as the outfielder missed the ball and began chasing it like a lazy dog. It was the weekend Little League game after Kate and Sawyer’s initial hookup, and everyone on both sides was pumped. The season was winding down, so every game, and every win, counted.

  Since th
e outfielder who’d missed the ball was Bobby, Kate didn’t join in with the rest of the shouting spectators. She remained silent while she listened to under-the-breath groans from the parents on Bobby’s team. No one criticized, that was taboo in Little League, but the feeling of dismay was palpable. It didn’t help that Mr. Cabrera had decided to grace the game with his presence. His frown told everyone he wasn’t pleased with his son’s performance.

  “He’ll get it next time,” Mary consoled Kate, who gave her a weak smile in reply. She shot a look at Bobby’s dad, who stood along the third base line with a look like he’d swallowed a lemon plastered on his face. He glared at his son across the field, and Kate felt like punching him in the nose.

  How dare he act disappointed in the boy? He, who never gave the child any of his precious time. Sure, Bobby should have had that ball. It was hit to him, after all. But, he’d made the attempt of a catch, which was more than he’d done before. Besides, his coach wasn’t yelling at him.

  Kate’s insides cartwheeled when she looked at Sawyer. He wasn’t frowning. He was yelling encouragement to Bobby, telling him to “shake it off,” that he’d get it the next time. Since Bobby was nodding and punching the center of his glove, the pep talk seemed to be working.

  Didn’t the man have any faults? Kate sincerely doubted it, as he hunkered down by first base, adjusting his hat over his eyes while he watched the pitcher wind up. He was tall, handsome, a magnificent sexual partner, and kind to kids. The epitome of her perfect man.

  They’d spent every night together this week at his place. It was amazing how easily they’d fallen into a pattern. She’d come over after taking care of Bobby, or meeting with one of her clients. She’d give him a quick call to let him know she was on her way home, and he’d tell her the door was open. Being at his apartment suited her fine. It didn’t seem right to have him over at her friend’s place while she was out of the country.

  Sometimes he followed her home after coaching Bobby. One night Mr. Cabrera had been out until midnight, but Sawyer had texted her to come over anyway. He’d made it worth her while.

  She was playing with fire. Sawyer wouldn’t be here forever, but she refused to think about that. Being with him made it very easy to forget that their time together was temporary. Besides the phenomenal sex, they connected on a personal level, as well.

  She’d told him about her parents, how much she missed them as well as how she was trying to pay off their debts. He’d countered, by revealing that his dad had been a workaholic, and never had time to spend with his son. He’d held her close while she’d fought back tears at his kindness, and he’d kissed her senseless when she’d stroked his hair and told him she’d bet he’d been a sweet little boy.

  “Roll that tongue up in your mouth, girl.”

  Kate blinked, and looked over at Mary, who seemed to be watching her son’s pitching, though the telltale smirk on her face told Kate she’d been talking to her. Kate flushed even as she demurred.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, you do too. You’re looking at our handsome coach like you’re the cat and he’s the delicious mouse. Is he?”

  “Is he what?” Kate dragged her gaze away from the very fine-looking Coach Hayes and tried to act nonchalant.

  “Is he delicious?”

  Oh God, was he. He’d coaxed her to do things with him she’d never done before, and every one of those things was mouth-watering. Her thoughts must have paraded across her face, because Mary started laughing. Kate averted her gaze. When she looked out to the field, the first person she spied was the man in question, leaning in and whispering advice to the base player.

  She envied the child. She’d love to have Sawyer whispering in her ear right now like he had last night, telling her to let go, to fly with him—

  “I guess that answers my question. Good for you, girl. The rest of us are married. We can recognize a good man, but it’s you who can actually sample his wares.” She chuckled again, but Kate was saved from answering when their first baseman caught a fly ball for the third out. The team began running in.

  She watched as Bobby jogged toward Sawyer, who slowed his pace and reached out to tap the child’s hat bill affectionately. Whatever he said to Bobby made the boy smile, and Kate caught herself grinning too.

  “You should have had that ball, hijo.”

  It was Mr. Cabrera, walking parallel to his son and coach. Bobby paused and looked up at his father. Kate held her breath, but it was Sawyer who answered easily, “He’ll get it next time. Get in the lineup, kiddo.” He gave Bobby a pat on the back, and the boy ran to the dugout. Sawyer continued on his way, leaving Bobby’s dad standing on the sideline.

  She couldn’t believe that, after all the games and practices that he’d missed, the first thing out of Mr. Cabrera’s mouth was criticism. It wasn’t the end of the world that Bobby had missed a ball, and it hadn’t been the only mistake out on the field. Kate kept her eyes trained on Sawyer, who jogged out to the infield after announcing the batting lineup.

  She fumed over how Bobby looked worried now, instead of excited. His father had been a jock in his youth; his son wasn’t. He needed to get over that fact and be supportive. Ugh. She hoped she would be able to control her feelings by the time she had to speak to the man.

  That time came too early. She’d made the mistake of sitting on the end of the bleachers, and Bobby’s dad strode over to her while the teams traded places on the field. He began speaking before he reached her, not bothering to lower his voice.

  “I don’t think Coach Hayes has helped him at all. Do you, Ms. Munroe?”

  Mary and a few other moms turned toward him, but he was oblivious. What should she say? If she were honest, she’d be out of a job. But he needed to know he was being too hard on the kid.

  “Um, I think Bobby is a lot more confident than he used to be, sir.”

  Mr. Cabrera frowned. “Confidence is good, but if he can’t hit the ball, he’ll be back sitting on the bench.”

  “Oh, I don’t think Coach Hayes would do that to Bobby.” She glanced at Sawyer, who stood near home plate, where he gave pep talks to the less talented players before they batted. He looked at her, and she quickly turned her attention to Bobby’s dad, who was scowling.

  “You have a better opinion of Coach Hayes than I do, Miss Munroe.” His gaze narrowed on her, and she fought the urge to squirm. “I think I’ll talk to him after the game.”

  She barely concealed her gasp with a cough. No, he couldn’t do that. It was demoralizing for Bobby, especially in front of his teammates. She leaned forward.

  “Let me handle it, Mr. Cabrera. You’ve let me up to now.”

  If his gaze had been piercing before, it was positively penetrating now. Did he know she was sleeping with Sawyer? She met his look squarely. After several seconds, he spun and stalked away, down the third base line. She let out the breath she’d been holding, and faced the field.

  Sawyer was watching them. Though his sunglasses hid his expression, she could tell he was curious about what they’d been saying. She shook her head, trying to convey that now wasn’t the time for a discussion. Hopefully he would take the cue better than Bobby’s dad.

  Her concern cast a pall over the rest of the game. Swinging low and too early, Bobby struck out when he got to bat. Kate glanced at his father, saw Mr. Cabrera rock his head irritably and bark, “Keep your eye on the ball, Roberto.” Kate clenched her fists, even as she heard Sawyer yell, “Shake it off, Bobby.” The difference between the two men was like night and day.

  “I like how Coach Hayes only gives positive input.” It was Mary speaking, giving her opinion on Mr. Cabrera without ever naming him. Kate wished she could be that clever. Right now, she wanted to deck Cabrera and kiss the coach senseless. Maybe marriage tempered one’s intensity. Kate didn’t know.

  While she wished she could be more diplomatic when dealing with others, she hoped she never lost her passion in the bedroom. She’d just foun
d it. And thinking about who had awakened that sleeping lion had her going all hot and cold again.

  The rest of the game went by pretty much in the same way as earlier. Bobby got on base with a grounder, but then was tagged out running to second. She heard Mr. Cabrera mutter under his breath, and it didn’t sound complimentary. She refused to get up and go stand by him. She didn’t want to be his sounding board any more than she already had. She should leave, since her presence wasn’t needed for Bobby now that his dad was present, but she enjoyed watching the children play. And she enjoyed watching the coach even more.

  Pretty soon the game ended, with the opposing team only winning by two. After Bobby’s team congratulated the other team, they stampeded toward the mom who’d provided snacks, chattering like magpies. Bobby was right in the middle of the crowd, comparing batting and catching stories with his teammates. His after-school practices with Sawyer had improved his skills enough so that he fit in with the other boys on his team.

  Like every other afternoon, Sawyer was pounced on by all the moms, who discussed everything from when the next game was, to lost hats or mismatched socks. Knowing she would get to go home with him, Kate hung back. She noticed that Mr. Cabrera did too. She saw how he studied Sawyer and his groupies, and realized the man was going to address him anyway about Bobby’s performance. She vowed not to let the boy hear his father’s complaints.

  As soon as Sawyer was alone, Mr. Cabrera approached him. Kate jumped up and called to Bobby.

  “Let’s get your gear in your dad’s car, Bobby.”

  He wouldn’t budge from his dad’s side, however, acting as though she hadn’t even spoken to him. She opened her mouth to repeat her request, but closed it when Mr. Cabrera spoke to Sawyer.

  “I think Bobby needs more instruction, Mr. Hayes. Perhaps a professional coach, instead of a part-time one such as yourself.”

  “But I like Coach’s lessons,” Bobby interjected.

  “Stay out of this, Roberto. Let the grownups talk.”