Chapter 13
LIZA
My heart was breaking for this man. This big, strong, successful man who built an empire from nothing was terrified he might lose the one thing that actually mattered to him.
Watching him pour his fears out in this old boathouse made me actually feel sorry for him.
The man could have anything, but he couldn’t buy the one thing he wanted the most.
Although I had a feeling if he offered enough money, Sasha would take it.
I didn’t get the feeling she was capable of loving anyone other than herself.
And that was totally judgmental, considering I didn’t know the woman.
But I didn’t like her. I didn’t like her when he told me about her, and after meeting her, I knew she was not a person I would ever willingly want to be in the same room with.
Something shifted inside me. At the end of the day, he was just a man.
He worked himself to exhaustion trying to be the father his daughter deserved.
He was restoring a boat with his own hands so he could share something meaningful with a seven-year-old.
And he worried every single day that he wasn’t enough.
I stepped closer, closing the distance between us without thinking about what it meant or whether I should. We had made it abundantly clear that we were going to keep our distance in every form of the word.
But I felt bad for Darek. He was just a human. All humans suffered from anxiety and worry. I wouldn’t call myself an empath, but I wasn’t a psychopath either. I could offer comfort.
“You’re not going to lose her,” I said. I needed him to believe it as much as I believed it. “I promise you, Darek. You’ll figure this out. The truth about that photo will come out, the evaluation will go well, and the judge will see what I see.”
He looked at me, asking me with his eyes what I saw.
“You’re an incredible father who would do anything for his daughter.”
“We can’t know how the evaluation will go.”
“Maybe not. But I’m sure it will be great anyway.
” I put my hand on his arm, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles.
“You and Daisie are going to get through this together. You’re going to find a way to do what’s best for her, because that’s what you always do.
And she trusts you with every cell in her body to take care of her because you always have. ”
He looked down at me. Something in his eyes made my breath catch. Gratitude, yes, but also something deeper. Something that had nothing to do with custody battles or fake relationships or any of the reasons I was supposed to be here.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, and then he was hugging me.
Not a casual hug, not the kind of embrace you’d give someone you were keeping at arm’s length.
His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close.
I could feel the rapid beat of his heart against my cheek.
His hands splayed across my back like he was trying to anchor himself.
And I was almost certain I heard him inhale my hair.
I hugged him back just as tightly, breathing in the scent of him, too. Damn, the man smelled good even when he was sweaty. Of course, he would.
The air shifted between us. Changed from comfort to something electric, something dangerous.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me. One of his hands came up to cup my cheek. His thumb brushed across my skin, and I felt that touch everywhere, a current of heat that spread through my entire body.
“Liza,” he said, my name rough in his throat.
I tilted my face up toward his, my lips parting slightly. It was happening. We were going to kiss, and I didn’t care about the contract or the boundaries or any of the very sensible reasons we’d agreed nothing physical would happen.
I just wanted him.
He leaned in, his eyes darkening, his hand sliding from my cheek to the back of my neck. My heart was beating so fast I could feel it in my damn toes.
A massive crack of thunder exploded directly overhead, so loud and sudden that we both jumped apart like we’d been shocked.
My heart was racing, and not entirely from the thunder. I let out a shaky laugh, pressing my hand to my chest. “Shit! That was loud!”
When God himself was warning you not to kiss your boss, you listened. I took another step back. I could not get involved with him. It was stupid and reckless and I wouldn’t do it.
He ran a hand through his hair, looking as rattled as I felt. The lights flickered, and the rain intensified, coming down so hard it sounded like a million little drummers were on the roof. Through the open door of the boathouse, I could see the water churning, dark and violent.
“We should get back to the house,” he said. “Before the storm gets worse.”
“Right. Yes. That’s a good idea.”
I kind of wanted to be trapped in the boathouse with him.
Stop it.
Bad thoughts.
I would not think like that.
Another rumble of thunder. He grabbed my hand, which I told myself was just practical. He was making sure we stayed together in the storm. “Run,” he said.
We bolted out of the boathouse into the downpour. The rain hit me like a wall, immediately soaking through my clothes, cold and shocking and somehow exhilarating. Darek kept hold of my hand as we ran across the lawn toward the house, both of us already drenched.
I should have been miserable. Instead, I felt alive. Free. Like something wild had been unleashed inside me. Something that had been locked away for too long.
We were running through the rain together, hand in hand, and I was laughing despite the cold water streaming down my face. Darek glanced back at me, saw my expression, and started laughing too, both of us giddy with adrenaline and proximity and everything we weren’t saying.
Too bad it all had to stay fake. Too bad we had to maintain boundaries and keep things professional. Because right then, running through a storm with Darek Sullivan, I was ready to throw every sensible thought out the window.
I was ready to ride him like a jet ski on full throttle.
The thought hit me with startling clarity.
I almost tripped over my own feet. Where had that come from?
I didn’t think things like that. I was a serious PhD candidate who studied whale migration patterns, not someone who had wildly inappropriate sexual thoughts about their employer in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Except apparently I was, because I couldn’t stop thinking about it now. What would have happened if that thunder hadn’t interrupted us? What if we didn’t stop with a kiss?
We reached the house and burst through the back door into the mudroom, both of us dripping water all over the expensive tile. Darek finally released my hand to close the door behind us, shutting out the storm.
In the sudden quiet, broken only by our heavy breathing and the muffled sound of rain against the windows, the air felt charged again. We were alone in the house and soaked to the skin. I could see the way Darek’s wet shirt clung to his chest, outlining every muscle.
I forced myself to look away.
“I should change,” I said, my voice coming out breathier than I’d intended. “Before I catch pneumonia.”
“Right. Yeah. Me too.” But he didn’t move, just stood there looking at me with an intensity that made my skin feel too tight.
“Darek—”
“I know. We can’t.” He stopped, seemed to struggle with something. “Go change.”
I practically fled to my room, leaving a trail of water behind me. Once inside with the door closed, I leaned against it and tried to catch my breath.
What was wrong with me? I had almost kissed him. And I’d wanted to. God, I’d wanted to so badly I could still feel the phantom pressure of his hand on my cheek.
I peeled off my soaked clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water as hot as I could stand. I needed to get my head straight and remember why this couldn’t happen.
There were so many reasons I had to ignore the ache in my body.
For one he was my client. We had a professional arrangement.
Secondly, I needed this money. Needed it desperately. I couldn’t afford to screw up this contract because I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
The third reason was Daisie. Getting physically involved with Darek would make everything more complicated. When I left—because I would leave—it would hurt her even more.
Fourth, I was definitely leaving. In three weeks, I would pack up my suitcase and go back to my real life, and whatever this thing was between us would end. Getting physically involved would only make that ending more painful.
Lastly, complicating things with sex would blow the whole arrangement up. It would dissolve the moment we crossed that line.
Darek was hot as hell. That was an objective fact. He was gorgeous and successful and devoted to his daughter, and yes, I was attracted to him. Powerfully, overwhelmingly attracted to him.
But it couldn’t happen.
For all the reasons I’d just listed and probably a dozen more I wasn’t thinking of.
I finished my shower and got dressed in dry clothes, deliberately choosing something loose and unsexy. Faded jeans and an oversized hoodie. Not designer. Not name brand. Just stuff I picked up at the thrift store.
I sat at my desk and tried to focus on my research. I had notes to review, data to analyze, and a chapter outline that desperately needed work. I was doing this so I could finish my dissertation.
Not to develop feelings for Darek Sullivan.
I pulled up my files and forced myself to read. I had to force my brain to think about something other than the memory of Darek’s hand on my cheek and the way he’d been about to kiss me.
It was a couple hours later when I heard Daisie’s voice floating down the hall. They were back from school.
I saved my work and headed downstairs, bracing myself to see him again. I didn’t want things to be awkward. So I acted totally normal.
They were in the kitchen, Daisie chattering about her day while Darek made her a snack. He looked up when I entered, and our eyes met for just a second before we both quickly looked away.
“Liza!” Daisie ran over to hug me. “Daddy says we might go out to dinner!”
“Awesome!” I replied.
Daisie grabbed her snack and headed out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna go play in my room until dinner. Come get me when it’s time!”
She disappeared upstairs, leaving Darek and me alone in the kitchen.
“About earlier,” he started.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” I said quickly.
“I think we do.”
“Darek, we both know what almost happened. And we both know it can’t happen again. So maybe we just… don’t. Don’t analyze it, don’t discuss it, just move forward and keep things professional.”
“Is that what you want?”
What I wanted was to cross the kitchen and kiss him the way we’d almost kissed in the boathouse. “It’s what’s smart. For both of us. For Daisie.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re right. Of course you’re right.”
“So we’re good?”
“We’re good.”
We weren’t good. We both knew it. But we were going to pretend we were because that’s what adults did when they couldn’t have what they wanted.
“I’m going to go finish some work before dinner,” I said, already backing toward the doorway.
“Liza?”
I stopped. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. For what you said in the boathouse. About being a good father. I needed to hear that.”
My heart squeezed. “You are a good father. Don’t ever doubt that.”