3. Alex
There’s a man in my house. There’s a fucking man in my house. From what it looks like, a very sexy man. But a man that I do not know is in. My. House! Okay, my parents’ house, but sort of my house. Oh my god, I’m freaking out. I am freaking out.
I scream again as I press my bare ass against the cool sink, using my arms to try to wrangle my boobs that are falling out from the sides of the too-small apron. At least I was smart enough to put it on in the first place. Not that I thought a man would show up to find me mostly naked, but I didn’t want to get oil burns.
Why the hell am I thinking about oil burns? A stranger is in my house.
I open my mouth to scream again, but he holds up a hand. “Please don’t scream,” his warm voice pleads. “I swear I’m not going to hurt you.”
My eyes dart from his large palm to his salt-and-pepper beard and perfectly styled silver hair. Then I do the thing he asked me not to do—I scream then grab the first thing I see: a wooden spoon. I hold it up and stare at the stunned man in the dining room, glad there’s at least some space between us.
“Who the fuck are you?!” I yell, my question a high-pitched screech.
His stunning blue irises that remind me of the lake stare into me, unblinking. I shake the wooden spoon at him and try to ignore the way his penetrating gaze sends a zing straight to my lady parts.
“Hello! I asked you a question. Who are you?”
His attention travels from my face to the wooden spoon, the corners of his lips tilting up slightly before he looks back at me. He shifts on his feet, and I wave the spoon at him.
“Don’t come any closer! Answer me; who are you?”
He holds up both his hands and doesn’t move, his eyes still trained on mine. At least he’s keeping his gaze on my face instead of my almost naked form.
“My name is Elijah. I’m friends with Oliver Martin, the owner of this house.”
My dad has friends? I mean, of course he has friends. And I guess this attractive silver fox is his friend. But I’ve never heard him talk about an Elijah. I repeat his name again and again in my mind, but I don’t know any Elijahs.
“How do you know him?” I ask, confused.
“I’m the Vice President of Client Relations at Spark Life Creative.”
Elijah. Vice President of Client Relations. I repeat it again and again until it finally clicks. My body flushes pink when I realize who he is.
“You’re Astor?”
The man nods, his perfectly angled jaw flexing along with the well-developed lean muscles in his arms that he has clenched at his sides. “Elijah Astor,” he confirms. “Oliver likes to call me by my last name. But we’re close friends. He gave me access to this house for the weekend. I swear, I’m not going to hurt you.”
My body still tense, I gently lower the spoon and place it on the counter, crossing both my arms over my chest to give me more coverage. “My mom said it was going to be empty this weekend.”
I watch Elijah’s brow pinch as he processes my words and drops his head back to look at the ceiling. His mouth moves silently as if he’s praying or maybe he’s cursing. When he drops his head down to his chest, I hear him ask, “Are you Oliver’s daughter, Alexandra?”
“Yes, I’m Alex.” This time, I do hear him curse. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. I watch his chest move up and down in heavy breaths, the muscles of his biceps ticking beneath the fabric of his fitted gray T-shirt. “Elijah?” I ask when the silence becomes too much.
“I’m sorry, I should go. This is highly inappropriate,” he says, his tone tight and eyes on the ground.
A smile tugs at my lips. This is highly inappropriate I want to mimic back in a British accent, but I don’t. I find it amusing that he sounds so proper for a man who looks like he does, someone who’d take you over his knee and call you a bad girl. Not a man who averts his gaze and apologizes for doing nothing wrong.
He turns to leave, taking a few steps forward with his hands still clenched at his sides. I don’t know why, but I find myself going after him. “Wait!” I call.
As if he forgets the reason he turned to leave in the first place, he spins on his heel to face me. But as soon as he sees my apron-clad form, he spins back around.
“Sorry,” he apologizes again.
“It’s fine. Let me go put something on. Don’t leave.” Before he can say anything, I rush out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the master bedroom. Breathing harder from my efforts, I untie the apron and lay it on the California King before grabbing the first thing I see in my suitcase. I pop the emerald sundress over my head and tug it down. It’s a skimpy thing with thin fabric and a short hemline that I’d normally wear over a bathing suit, but it will have to do for now. I’m in a rush to get back downstairs.
Why? I don’t exactly know. But I don’t want to keep Elijah waiting. I have a feeling if I left him down there long enough, he’d leave without a word. I want to at least talk to him about what happened so he doesn’t tell my dad about this. It would be awkward as hell.
Once I’ve slid on a pair of underwear with more coverage, I’m running down the stairs. When I don’t see Elijah in the dining room, I panic. I hear the jingling of keys and rush to the front door, completely out of breath now.
When his tall form comes into view, a nice duffle bag over his shoulder and a leather messenger bag in his hand, I frown. “I told you not to leave.”
He tenses at my voice and turns, his sapphire gaze looking me up and down. It’s hard to tell if he likes what he sees because his bowed pink lips are pursed and his forehead is still pinched. Not that it should matter. I shouldn’t want this man to like what he sees, right?
“This is your family home, and I’m intruding,” he says. “I’ll go find a hotel for the night and head back to LA in the morning.” When he grasps the doorknob, I jump into action, placing my hand over his. My fingers touch the skin of his knuckles, and static electricity zips up my hand. We both gasp. I pull away and shake it out.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, those damn blue eyes boring into mine as if he’s genuinely concerned that I’m hurt.
I shoot him a small smile. “Dry mountain air.”
He nods, standing to his full height in front of me. My head hits the upper part of his chest, and my skin prickles from how close we’re standing. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear and take a breath in an attempt to calm my fast-beating heart. It doesn’t help that Elijah is a very attractive man.
From far away, I could see he was good-looking, but up close? Holy wow. With a jaw that could cut glass, high cheekbones, a well-manicured beard, and not a single hair out of place, this man could be a model. And now that I can see his face more clearly, I’m going to guess he’s not as old as I initially thought. Probably quite a few years younger than my dad. Which excites me more than it probably should.
Elijah swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his stubbled throat as his gaze darts to the V of my dress. I have large boobs, so anything I wear that has a lower neckline will show cleavage. But the longer he looks, I realize that, in my rush, I forgot to put on a bra. My nipples go hard under his attention, and I cross my arms over my chest.
Elijah clears his throat and glances down at his watch. He’s flustered to the point that I can see a tinge of pink on the apples of his cheeks.
“I should leave before it gets dark,” he says.
I reach out and take his bicep in my hand. The skin is warm under my touch, and I swear he shivers. “Sorry,” I say, pulling my hand back and giving him space. “Just stop trying to leave.”
I laugh lightly.
“I don’t understand how my parents double-booked us here, but you’re here already. And you’re my dad’s friend. You can’t stay at a hotel.”
“It’s fine. It will be one night.”
“The hotels are probably booked,” I counter. “It’s their busiest time of year. I doubt you’d be able to find one. Just stay here for the night. It’s totally fine.”
“I should at least try to call and see.”
I press my lips together, wondering if I should be offended that he’s so determined to leave. Though my rational brain understands why he wants to.
“If you feel like you need to, go ahead. Though it’s really not a problem for you to stay here. I bet if you text my dad, he’d insist you stay, too. He wouldn’t want you to waste your money when we have plenty of perfectly good rooms here.”
Elijah looks at his bags and then back at me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I promise you’re not. But if it makes you more comfortable, you can sleep in the theater room downstairs. That’s as far as you could possibly get from me and the master bedroom.”
His eyes soften. “Please don’t take my wanting to leave the wrong way. This is”—he makes a small gesture between us—“complicated and awkward.”
I twirl a piece of my wavy hair around my finger. It doesn’t escape me that Elijah watches the movement with interest. As if my body has a mind of its own, I pop my chest out a bit so his attention wavers back to my cleavage before he quickly looks into my eyes. Could this man really be attracted to me?
I paint a warm smile on my face and cock my hip, placing a hand on it. “This doesn’t have to be complicated. Or awkward. Stay the night, and if, in the morning, you still want to leave, feel free.”
Elijah swallows again, and I’ll admit I love the way his stubbled throat flexes and the veins in his neck pop as he does it. Wow, Alex, I internally scold myself. Maybe I should drive thirty minutes across the Nevada border and go to a club. Apparently, I’m horny and need some attention. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be actively eye-fucking my dad’s friend-slash-employee. But I mean, who can blame me? This man is gorgeous.
Finally, after what seems like forever, he stops the war he’s having with himself and nods. “If you’re really okay with it, I’ll stay for the night.”
“Oh, great!” I clap my hands and do a silly little excited jump. Elijah’s eyes go straight to my boobs at the motion, and I bite my lip to keep from smiling. I know I shouldn’t, but I like that he’s looking. I like that it seems our attraction to each other is mutual. Even if it’s a little naughty given who we are.
“Thank you for offering,” he says, “but please let me know if at any time you want me to leave.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “That won’t be happening. As you said, it’s only for the night. And really, Elijah, no thanks needed. Though I wouldn’t suggest sleeping in the theater room, especially when we have perfectly good beds.”
He chuckles, and I’m relieved to hear the sound. “A guest room sounds wonderful.”
“Then follow me! I’ll show you where they are.” I grin at him, moving toward the staircase that leads upstairs. He smiles back as he shifts his bag over his shoulder, then he falls in step behind me.