Chapter 3
Jo’s stomach sank.
Chelsea. Sugar.
He had a girlfriend. Of course he did. Men who looked like him and could fuck like that were never single.
She swore under her breath and climbed out of bed, slamming open drawers in her search for clean underwear while Derek whispered into the phone on the other side of the room. As if she couldn’t hear him. Goddammit. She’d thought he was one of the good ones.
He glanced over his shoulder at her, his brow furrowing as he watched her hop on one foot in an attempt to step into her underwear, because like hell was going to stand there naked while he talked to Chelsea. She stumbled and fell to the side, catching her shin on the edge of the bed with a curse.
Not that she cared who he talked to. It was just a one-night stand. Just sex.
Albeit really great sex.
The kind of sex that would require at least two margaritas to tell the girls about. Sex so good she wasn’t sure she had words to do it justice.
And now he’d gone and ruined it by being a lying, cheating cheater.
“No, I’m listening.” Derek turned away from Jo and rifled through the pile of clothing at his feet until he found his boxer briefs.
“Chels, I’m on my way to the airport. I’ll be in California all week.
You know this.” He pulled up his underwear and stepped into his pants.
“Is she alright?” Another pause while he hunted for his shirt, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder.
“No, of course you have to. I’m sorry. I’ll figure it out. ”
Jo yanked an oversized t-shirt over her head and leaned against her dresser, arms crossed as Derek finished dressing.
“Sugar, don’t cry. Meet me at the airport in two hours. Yes, I— It’ll be okay. I’ll take care of it. See you soon.”
He hung up the phone and dropped his hand to his side, his head drooping forward.
No. He did not get to look crestfallen when he was the one who had a girlfriend or wife or whatever he forgot to mention before climbing into her bed.
She was the one who got to be crestfallen, dammit.
Jo grabbed a pillow from where it had fallen off the side of her bed and lobbed it at him.
It bounced off his muscled back and fell at his feet.
He spun around to face her, his forehead wrinkled. “What was that for?”
“You have a girlfriend?”
“What? No, I—”
“A wife then?” She glanced at his left hand. No ring, just like she knew there would be no ring. Jo always checked for rings. Fool me once, and all that. "What, did you take off your ring before you came to the bar so you could pick up unsuspecting bartenders?”
“You’re the one who propositioned me.”
She stormed across the room and poked him in the chest. “Who’s Sugar?”
He grinned, the confusion falling from his expression. She wanted to smack that stupid grin off his face, or kiss it off, or sit on it, or—
“Didn’t take you for the jealous type.”
“I’m not— Why would I be—” Her cheeks flamed, but she refused to be embarrassed.
He should be the one who was embarrassed.
“Shut up! I’m not jealous, and I don’t appreciate being made the other woman!
You’re the one who has a wife. You probably have a different woman in every city.
I’ve got news for you, bucko. I’m no man’s dirty little secret. ”
She turned to walk away, but he caught her around the waist, tugging her back against him and banding his arms around her. He pressed his lips to her ear. “You are so jealous.”
She squirmed in his arms, but his hold was too tight, and the more she squirmed, the more her ass rubbed against his groin, the more she could feel the growing bulge in his pants. It was a really great bulge. Perfect even.
Not a helpful observation, Jo.
“I’m not jealous,” she spat, and fuck him because she was mad at him, dammit, but now she was also wet again, and the asshole was smirking like he knew. Not that he could possibly know.
“I don’t have a wife.” His beard scratched lightly along her shoulder. “Or a girlfriend. And I definitely don’t have a woman in every city. Until last night, I hadn’t been with a woman in years.” She scoffed in disbelief. A man like him? Celibate for years? “Dating isn’t exactly easy since—”
She stopped fighting him, intrigued despite herself. “Since?”
“Since my divorce.” He dropped his arms and took a step back, putting distance between them.
When she turned around, he’d set to work buttoning his shirt, the humor gone from his face.
In its place, the scowl from the night before had returned, frown lines and all.
“Chelsea is my ex-wife. All her friends call her sugar. I’m not really sure why. We’ve been divorced for years.”
Jo watched him warily. It really wasn’t any of her business. This had been a one-night stand. She knew how to have a one-night stand. Get in, get off, get out. She’d probably never see Derek again.
So why did she care so much about what he might say next?
“Why is she meeting you at the airport?”
He brushed his hair back and she realized the scowl he’d worn at the bar wasn’t about being grumpy—it was exhaustion.
“So she can drop off my daughter.” If he noticed Jo’s surprise, he didn’t show it.
“Annie. She’s seven. She was supposed to be with her mother this week while I’m on the West Coast, but Chelsea’s mom is sick and she can’t take care of both of them at the same time. ”
“You’re a dad,” Jo said, rearranging everything she knew about him, re-examining it through the lens of this new information.
He looked so...defeated? Like the weight of his responsibilities were literally pulling his shoulders down, and all she wanted to do was ease that burden.
She cocked her hip and arched an eyebrow at him.
“I mean, I knew you were a daddy but I didn’t realize you were a father. ”
He snorted and shook his head, a soft grin pulling up the corner of his lips. “You’re such a menace.”
Warmth burst in her chest at the affection in his voice, at the knowledge she’d been able to get him to smile, to shake off the grumps even for a moment. She tilted her head towards the kitchen. “I’ll make you a cup of coffee for the road.”
Jo opened and closed cabinets in a fruitless search for coffee, all the while far too aware of Derek’s eyes on her from his position leaning in the kitchen doorway.
The top button of his shirt was undone, his clothing wrinkled and his hair messy from where she’d tugged on it. Disheveled. It was a good look for him.
“I know I have a bag around here somewhere,” she said.
Or at least she thought she did. Then again, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d made coffee at home.
Lately Tessa had been supplying her daily caffeine fix, a free latte and a croissant slid across the counter at the bakery when Jo stopped in to pick up Tessa’s daughter Julie for her morning babysitting.
But Julie was starting daycare this week, having finally gotten off the waitlist at Miss Maria’s. Not only would Jo be out the extra cash from babysitting, now she’d also have to start buying her own coffee and croissants again.
That was a problem for future Jo, though.
She grabbed the open carton of orange juice from the refrigerator, sniffing at the opening.
“Okay, so I don’t have coffee, but I can get you a glass of only mildly questionable OJ.
No pulp,” she sing-songed as she waved the carton.
His eyes flickered to the clock above the stove.
“Have a glass of OJ with me before you go. You must need to rehydrate after…”
He smirked as he stalked across the kitchen towards her. “I think we both need to rehydrate after.”
She bumped him with her hip and retrieved two glasses—well, bright pink plastic cups dotted with purple and yellow flowers from the dollar store, but close enough. Their fingers brushed when she handed him his cup, the contact sparking like static electricity.
He took a sip of the juice and made a face. Okay, fine. It was a little past its best-by date.
“Tell me the truth.” He took her cup and set them both back down on the counter. “You can’t read palms.”
A surprised laugh bubbled past her lips. “I’m not saying anything. That’s personal.”
He grasped her hip, her t-shirt bunching beneath his palm. His voice was warm and lush, like velvet slipping over heated skin. “I’ve been inside you multiple times in the last twelve hours, but this is too personal?”
She pushed lightly at his chest and bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling. “I’m very good at reading people. Whether that comes from their palms or—”
He cut her off with a kiss, so casual and chaste it caught her off guard.
Like they did this all the time. But Jo had learned a long time ago not to wish for things she couldn’t keep, and a man as serious and put together as Derek definitely fell into that category.
She turned away, flashing him a smile she didn’t entirely feel, and busied herself with pouring the orange juice down the drain.
The playfulness fell from Derek’s face and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I should go. The band will be waiting for me, and I still need to find a nanny service.”
She carefully rinsed the cups. “I can’t imagine how much nannying in California must cost.”
“For three days plus nights? Four, at least.”
“Hundred?”
“Thousand.”
Jo dropped the cup she was holding, the cheap plastic clattering in the sink. She turned off the water and spun around to face him. “You’re going to pay someone four thousand dollars to watch your kid for three days?”
He cuffed the back of his neck, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Plus nights. They’ll have to stay with us at the resort. Round the clock care. It’s a lot to ask.”
“Hold on. Someone gets to spend three days playing with your kid at a resort in California, plus they get to stay in one of those fancy-ass hotel rooms, and you’re going to pay them four thousand dollars for the privilege?
” Jo stared at him incredulously. Four thousand dollars would pay her rent for three months, and someone was going to earn that kind of money in three days on what amounted to a vacation. “I’ll do it.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ve been babysitting my friend’s daughter for over a year and—”
“I thought you were a bartender.”
“I am a model-slash-bartender-slash-nanny extraordinaire.” Jo shrugged. “Girl’s gotta eat.”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. That feels like crossing some kind of line.”
She planted a hand on her hip. “You’ve been inside me multiple times in the last twelve hours, but this is crossing a line?”
He shook his head. “That’s just it, Jo. I’m not in the habit of sleeping with my daughter’s nannies.”
“I wasn’t her nanny then,” Jo said. Then, in a small voice, “I could really use the money.”
And if being his daughter’s nanny meant she also got to spend some more time with Derek—at a resort in sunny California, no less—that was icing on the cake.
“It would be easier than trying to find someone in California on short notice…”
“Exactly.” She stepped closer. “You already know I’m not a serial killer.”
“I don’t know that. You have a bookcase full of shoes.”
She waved away the comment. “Those are just the ones that are too beautiful to put in a closet. I have excellent references. I’m sure Tessa and Jamie would tell you I’m great with their daughter. The little squirt loves me.”
He paced away, dragging his hand over his jaw. “I must be crazy for considering this.”
Jo’s heart raced, but she was determined not to let him see how desperately she needed this job. “It’s perfect. You need a nanny and I just so happen to have an opening in my schedule.”
He gestured between them. “This… we couldn’t… I mean, this would be strictly a business arrangement. Annie is very observant for a seven-year-old. She doesn’t miss anything. And her mother and I have an agreement not to introduce her to anyone we’re seeing unless it’s serious.”
“No telling the kid I banged her dad. Gotcha.”
“Jo,” he warned.
“Kidding. I’m kidding. We’re both adults. I’m sure we can keep it professional when Annie is around.”
“Not just when she’s around. She’s always going on about—” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. If she even suspected… It would be too confusing for her. I won’t hurt my kid like that.”
Jo’s chest ached. He was standing there telling her they couldn’t be together again, not even a quickie after his daughter went to bed, and somehow she’d never wanted a man more. What is wrong with me?
She straightened her spine, determined to seem as professional as she could without pants on. “Understood. No confusing Annie. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good you won’t even know what to do with me.”
Lust flickered across his face and Jo had a feeling he was picturing exactly what he’d do with her. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Three days—plus travel days—all expenses paid, four thousand dollars cash, and we keep our hands to ourselves.”
She stuck out her hand to shake his but he stared at it, arching an eyebrow at her. She pulled the hand away. “Right. Hands to ourselves. You’ve got a deal, Derek von Silver Fox.”
He frowned. “My last name’s Owens.”
“I’m going to be such a good nanny, you’re never going to want to let me go,” she said as she backed out of the kitchen.
He blinked back the startled expression on his face, the red in his cheeks deepening again, but she spun away before she did something stupid like kiss him and cost herself the job she’d just talked herself into.
She called over her shoulder as she darted down the hall towards her bedroom. “Give me five minutes to pack.”
“You have three,” he called after her. “And put on some pants!”