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“You’re saying you don’t need the help?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the kids, her expression softening before she turned back to him. “We always need the help. Sure. But this job means a lot to me. These kids mean a lot to me. And to be frank, I don’t have time to cater to some celebrity who’s here to put in time with the poor kids for the sake of a press clipping.”
He frowned, all playfulness draining out of him. “You think that’s what this is about?”
She shrugged. “Why else would you do it?”
He opened his mouth but then shut it again. If he said he was doing it for the sake of the kids, that’d be a lie. It’s not like he would’ve strolled down here on his own out of the goodness of his heart. But he sure as hell wasn’t doing it for the press. “I couldn’t give a shit what the media says about me.”
She crossed her arms, unconvinced.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m doing it as a favor to my friends, all right?”
She considered him a moment longer then gave a brief nod. “Fair enough. You really want to help, then I’ll be done at six. We can go to the Italian place on the corner. But I need to be home by eight.”
“Hot date?”
She leaned closer than he would’ve expected, right near his ear. “Yeah, with my daughter.”
She gave him an angelic smile when she stepped back, then turned on her heel to head back toward the kids, leaving him staring after her. When she passed mini-Benatar, who was cross-legged on the floor, she ran her hand over the child’s head and smiled down at her.
Well, hell.
Oakley had a kid.
At least now he knew which mom thought tattoos were dumb.
FIVE
Oakley smiled to herself as Pike rattled off timelines and tasks in between bites of calzone. He’d been all business since they’d sat down in the back corner of the little dive restaurant. Her tactic had worked. It usually did. Childless men found out she was a mom and ran away like their ass was on fire.
Pike seemed to be no exception. Since she’d informed him that she had a daughter, he’d turned off the flirt. A small, selfish part of her was disappointed. Not that she had any interest in pursuing anything with anyone right now, especially with someone like him, but it had been kind of heady getting that kind of attention thrown h
er way. If nothing else, it had reminded her that the sexual part of herself wasn’t totally dead. Even now, that warm energy hummed through her as she surreptitiously watched Pike lick a dollop of red sauce off his thumb. He had a pouty bottom lip that would look feminine if not for the hard angle of his jaw and the scruff. She kind of wanted to bite it—see if it felt as plump as it looked.
He glanced up, caught her staring, and smiled. “So, wanna screw in the bathroom?”
She startled and stiffened, instantly yanked out of her less-than-PG thoughts. “What?”
He leaned back in his chair, vague confusion on his face. “I asked if you wanted to keep working in that back room? We could rehearse at the studio once they’re close to being ready to record. But until then, it’s probably more trouble than it’s worth to cart everyone over there. It’s not that big of a place.”
“Rehearse in the back room?” she repeated, running the words back in her head to make sense of them. “Oh, right, yes, that’s fine. I’m sorry. I thought you said something else.”
She eyed the small Bellini she’d ordered with her meal. Maybe that had been a bad idea. She was hearing things now.
Screw in the bathroom? How the hell had she gotten that out of what he’d said? Of course, now all she could think of was him doing just that—taking her by the elbow and leading her to that dark alcove at the back of the restaurant, pushing her up against that wall with the faded Italian flag on it, and putting his hands all over her. She licked her top lip, tasting the sweet remnants of her drink. Pull it together, woman.
Apparently, once her libido had been brave enough to peep its head out, it had decided it was Groundhog Day and needed to run around, declaring spring was coming early. She hated to break the news, but nothing and no one was coming anytime soon.
“What did you think I said?” Pike took a long sip from his drink, his snake-charmer eyes never leaving hers.
She followed suit, hoping the fruity drink would cool off more than her throat. “Doesn’t matter.”
His lips twitched. “You’re all red.”
“I think it’s the Bellini. I don’t drink very often.”
“No way.” His expression turned smug. “You thought I said something dirty, didn’t you?”
