AllFreeNovel
Share Us
1
MARY-BETH
The top floor apartment door opened, my breath caught in my throat and some kind of powerful energy crashed like waves between me and the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life.
‘”Alex,” I murmured.
“Mary-Beth.”
He’d drawn his breath in sharply too. I hadn’t imagined that, had I? I drank him in as he stood there, in flip-flops, a faded Buffalo Bills’ t-shirt and battered cargo shorts. Well, I had not been expecting that. Not hot, knock-you-off-your-feet attraction. No way. What a nightmare – for three reasons. One, he was about to become my employer. Two, he was old enough to be my dad. Three, I was absolutely, one hundred percent sworn off romance until Maddy was at school – so three years, at least.
Alex and I held each other’s gaze for just too long, his deep blue eyes searing into mine, searching, questioning. I found myself biting my lip as I gazed at his well-built shoulders and the defined abs under the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Then I found myself smiling in embarrassment, and, just for a second, his eyes flashed with humor and mischief too. The moment passed – his shoulders relaxed (yes, I was still looking) and I breathed out at last.
His voice was as gruff and deep as when we’d spoken on the phone. “Have we met before?”
I pulled myself together enough to answer. “I don’t think so. Maybe around town, I guess. But I think I would have remembered.” Oh God, shut up, Mary-Beth. That sounded like a corny chat-up line. “I mean, because you’re so famous and everything, I would have probably remembered, that’s all I was thinking,” I quickly explained.
He stood back from the door, more formal now, making no effort to put me at ease after my awkward rambling. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” I’d gotten a hold of myself, thank goodness.
I stepped inside and inhaled as I walked past him. I couldn’t help myself. There was some kind of almost feral attraction between us, and I wanted to breathe him in. He smelled of cedarwood and cinnamon. Oh, my goodness, if my response to him didn’t dial itself down, it was going to be so awkward living here. He was the last man on earth that I could fall for. The absolute last.
Much as I did not want this job, or any job working for someone else - I needed it, and the place to live. Last Friday had been a big day, and not in a good way. I’d had to finally close my business, which also meant losing my apartment. Luckily, my dad had mentioned one of his best friends from college desperately needing a live-in nanny and put us in touch. Or perhaps unluckily, if I was going to be this attracted to Alex. Alexander Harper, the Buffalo Bills’ starting quarterback, to be precise.
The bone-shaking attraction I was wrestling with (while trying to act normal and look like a good employee) came as a shock, too. That’s because I hadn’t even thought about anyone in that way since I split up with Caleb, Maddy’s useless piece of shi-. Sorry, deep breath… Maddy’s father.
That was three months after I found myself pregnant with her, so almost two years ago now. I’m only twenty-two, so a couple of years still seems like an eternity, LOL. I got over Caleb, which didn’t take long. To be fair, we hadn’t exactly been soul mates. But I hadn’t even thought about dating anyone else. I had not glowed during pregnancy and got an extra lease on life, lets put it that way. I’d given up on love, and the last thing on my mind was sex - I had been too sick, tired, and in pain (thanks, lower back) for any of that jazz.
Sex never got itself back on my mind after Maddy’s birth either. Hmm, let’s think… The birth included the fun highlights of a three-day back-to-back labor and seventeen internal stitches. So, it’s pretty obvious why I wasn’t rushing into bed with anyone. Oh, and Maddy’s a bad sleeper too, so I’ve basically been awake for twelve months solid. That’s been a fantastic kick in the nuts for any thoughts of love and sex that might have tried to creep back into my mind and lead to me getting hurt again. It’s the only advantage of walking around like a zombie all day and doing things like putting my toothbrush in the fridge and forgetting to shower – I’m just too damn tired to get my heart hurt again.
Nope, no men for Mommy.
My idea of a hot night these days is a cup of decaf coffee, chocolate chip cookie dough, Netflix, and one hour straight of Maddy sound asleep. That’s just about long enough to get any romantic fix I might need a couple of times a week – it’s currently in the form of Jack Sheridan in Virgin River. That man is hot, no kidding, as well as safely unavailable.
I pulled my thoughts back to the present - that’s another thing about exhaustion, lack of concentration, and a wandering mind. I just couldn’t pull my business back from the edge when it hit the rocks last month… I mean, maybe there’s nothing I could have done, but still – hard to swallow, when I’d worked so hard at building it up.
Anyway… Alex’s apartment was huge and stunning, although clearly newly renovated, with only the bare minimum of furniture. It was also flooded with light from the original leaded glass windows. It had been the grandest general store in Buffalo, back in the 1920s. This floor, with walls removed, was like a huge loft apartment now.
I gasped when I saw the grand art deco fireplace at the other end of the room. ”Wow, this place is incredible! I absolutely love what you’ve done with it.”
“Thanks,” Alex said gruffly, coming to stand beside me.
I tried not to show that his presence, so close to me, was sending hot waves of desire shooting through my hips, pelvis, and, yes, ladies, my pussy. My legs almost gave way underneath me as I breathed in his scent again.
“And how’s your dad? I haven’t seen him for a while,” he asked then. That was helpful, him reminding me that he was my dad’s best friend, and old enough to be my father. That would kill any passion trying to make it through my defenses.
“He’s good.” An edge crept into my voice even though I tried really hard to sound light and casual. Me and my dad did not get along – we never had, really.
I made myself walk across the room to admire an art deco bookcase. That gave me some time to compose myself – even just the mention of my dad could have me caught in a horrible emotional place between anger and tears. “Is this a Charles Rennie Macintosh?” I asked Alex, to keep the subject off father dearest.
‘Yes, it is. It was made in 1895,’ he told me. ‘I bought it in an auction in Dunkeld and had it shipped all the way from Scotland.”
He came and stood beside me, stroking the front of it.
“It’s really beautiful,” I breathed. It was. Pieces like that sent a tingle up my spine.
“Thanks. I love it,” he said. “These curves are just beautiful.”
