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“Oh.” Mel drew back, then turned to Blake. Tears swam in her eyes. “So I know we said six weeks, and I’m not going back on that, but it’s more imperative now than ever that—”
“About that—” Blake raised a hand, trying to talk over her. “I’m not—”
“I’ll give you the most spectacular, glowing review to your future in-laws,” Mel continued despite his attempt at interrupting. “I just need to get through this tiny probation period first. And you did say you also needed me too.”
“Yes, but—”
“I need someone reliable now more than ever,” she continued, ignoring his attempts to speak.
“Which is why I—”
“Everything depends on me getting this position. Everything. Stability, a new house, a better future for my kids . . .”
Was she not listening? “Right, but there’s got to be someone els—"
“There’s no one.” Mel stepped forward and clasped one of his hands in hers. It was warm and soft. A zip of energy coursed between their fingers, rendering him temporarily mute, as she blinked up into his eyes with desperation.
He glanced down at their clasped hands. Maybe she had been listening, after all. Maybe she just didn’t want to hear it.
“I have no one else, only you,” she confirmed. “In a little over a month, we should be accepted back at KidzCare.”
Yeah, if she got Peter’s accidents under control, he wanted to say.
Blake’s gaze lifted, landing on her full mouth. Her lips were rose-bud pink and looked so soft they could drive a man wild. He swallowed, forcing his gaze back to hers.
“I can’t miss any more work,” she said earnestly. “I have to be totally focused and at the top of my game for the next few weeks.”
Blake shook his head. Her desperation was nearly tangible. Still, he prepared himself to shoot her down, to tell her, Sorry, but I’m not cut out for the job, when she licked those rose-bud lips of hers and his gaze flew back to the now slick pout and his stomach tied in knots. And he knew he was a goner.
He glanced around at the tiny living apartment, with the scuffed paint, the one bedroom with two beds, and the ripped couch.
“I need to get us out of here,” she said as if reading his thoughts. “I need to make a better life for us . . .” She shook her head and glanced away from him, her throat bobbing with emotion.
How could he say no?
Blake’s pulse drummed, a siren in his chest, and before he could think it through, he nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”
CHAPTER SIX
Blake
The door swung open. Jen stood there, dressed in sleek black pants and a silk blouse with red stilettos the same shade as her lipstick, platinum hair swept back in a knot at the nape of her neck. She was a welcome sight, and Blake soaked her in as he stood outside her door.
“Oh, you poor thing,” she crooned. “Come in and let’s get you a drink, shall we?” Grabbing his arm, she guided him further into her brownstone. “What would you like? Scotch on the rocks? Vodka soda, perhaps?”
“Whatever you have is fine,” he said.
She swiveled around to him, tipped her head up, and pressed her lips to his before pulling away and smiling. “Look at your clothes, all rumpled. Must’ve been rough.”
Blake glanced down at the slacks and shirt and tie he changed into before coming. If she’d only seen me before . . .
“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll whip something up, hmm?”
Blake smoothed a hand over her hair, then bent and kissed her cheek. “Thanks,” he said as he turned for the great room.
He flopped down onto the couch, the supple bleached leather was a welcome relief. He barely made it all the way from Mel’s place to his, then to Jen’s SoHo townhome alive on his bike. Fatigue settled in about five minutes into his ride and had him throttling the clutch, weaving in and out of traffic just so he’d make it before his eyes drifted closed.
Now that he was there, he sprawled out on the pristine white sectional and glanced around him, unable to help but notice the differences between her place and Mel’s. He’d always known Jen’s place was extravagant, while his own apartment was average. After having spent the day at Mel’s, though, it was magnified. At five thousand square feet, it was massive by comparison. Mel’s entire apartment could easily fit Jen’s living room alone. With twenty-four-foot ceilings, it made Mel’s seem like the roof was closing in. Everything about this place was sleek and modern, shiny and new, while Mel’s was livable. Yet as cramped and in need of TLC Mel’s place was, it had felt warm, lived in, while Jen’s felt a bit . . . cold and impersonal. He hoped when they were married, they could somehow meld Jen’s desire for the finer things with his contentedness for simplicity and comfort.
