“I realize that you don’t have a lot of respect for me and don’t particularly trust me,” she started. When he began to make a halfhearted protest, she raised a hand to stop him. “No, don’t. You made your position very clear Tuesday morning. But that doesn’t give you the right to deliberately set me up to fail.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
From the poorly executed note of surprise in his voice, she could tell he knew exactly what she was talking about. “Your son,” she said deliberately, “hates to bike. And when I say hates, I mean, would rather burn in the fires of hell than put his butt on the seat.”
“Oh. That.”
His failure to even look chastened emboldened her. “Yeah. That. See, having just met the kid a few days ago, I didn’t know that. All I knew was that Julia thought he wasn’t very good on a bike. Even I know you don’t trust a six-year-old to assess her brother’s skill level. I figured if it had been a big problem, his dad would have mentioned something. Which you didn’t.”
He shrugged. “Luke’s a big boy. I figured he could tell you himself.”
“Bullshit,” she snapped. “You knew once I mentioned the ride to Julia and Matt, they wouldn’t let it go. So not only did Luke have to go for a bike ride, he had to be forced to go after fighting about it with his siblings.”
“Parenting’s a bitch, isn’t it?” he said.
She marched over to his chair and poked him in the chest. “You are one sick bastard if you think that’s funny. You with all your talk about keeping your kids safe. Safety apparently wasn’t much of a concern when you sent Luke off to the park with me, knowing he rides like an unsteady preschooler.”
He grabbed her hand and sat up slowly. “I would never, ever put my kids in jeopardy,” he said, suddenly stern. “Luke’s a crappy rider, yes, but there’s zero traffic between here and the park. He goes so slowly, I knew the worst that would happen would be he’d fall over and end up with a few bruises.”
“So you admit you knew I was headed for disaster?”
“Maybe just a little.” He pulled his mouth into the barest hint of a guilty look. “I probably should have warned you.”
“Probably?”
“Okay, I almost definitely should have said something. But you were all ‘I’ve got a gold medal in cartwheels, what do you have?’ and ‘I’ll check the brakes and make them wear helmets.’” He raised his voice to mimic her, then dropped back to his usual deep baritone. “I was provoked.”
“You provoked yourself.” She pulled on her hand, but he made no movement to release it. Tingles shot up and down her arm, goose bumps springing up in their wake. “You were being an asshole.”
“You could be right about that,” he admitted. He stood up then, in one fluid motion, bringing them just a few inches apart. She couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t let go of her hand. “I suppose I owe you an apology.”
“Ross,” she said, swallowing hard to clear the lump from her throat. “I realize I’m not the traditional nanny, and I know I was your last choice for a babysitter. But I can’t do this anymore.”
His gaze flickered from her mouth to her throat.
Her bones began to melt. All at once, her skin seemed to tighten, and her stomach began to fall as her brain fogged over.
He shook his head. “You’re absolutely right. I can’t keep doing this, either.”
“What?” She narrowed her gaze suspiciously.
“Looking at you.” His voice dropped. “Staring at your lips. And wondering if they can possibly taste as good I remember.”
Chapter Seven
Kelsey swayed. His words sent heat racing through her body, flushing her face and sending a rush of warm honey between her legs. “Don’t say that.” Her voice was little more than a whimper, as she fought the urge to melt against him. “We decided to forget about that night, remember? It never happened.”
He finally let go of her of her hand, but instead of stepping away he moved even closer, raising his hand to brush her hair back behind her shoulder and caressing the soft skin along her collarbone. “That’s what I keep telling myself. This is all wrong. You’re all wrong.”
Alarm bells sounded in her head, but they were strangely incapable of forcing motion into her legs. “That’s right,” she heard herself say, as if from some great distance. “Exactly right.”
“I have three kids,” he continued, his eyes pinned on the hollow at base of her throat. “If I’m going to be with someone she needs to be boring. Reliable. Predictable.”