My Father's Best Friend(3)

We didn't talk much as we enjoyed our desserts. Ethan looked like he  wanted to lick his plate clean when he reached the bottom, making me  giggle.

"I have plenty left if you'd like to take some with you," I offered.

"As delicious as it was, I have to say no. I don't have a fridge in my hotel room."         

     



 

My heart dropped at the reminder that he didn't live here. "You're welcome to raid my fridge tomorrow if you'd like."

"How about I take you out to dinner first?"

"Yes!" I accepted before he could change his mind. I was probably a  horrible person for setting up a date on the same day as my mom's  funeral, but I had a feeling she would have wanted me to say yes.  Although I'd never seen her go out on a date-ever-she'd always sounded  hopeful whenever she asked me about boys. She was addicted to reading  romance novels, and I'd always thought my mom didn't date because she'd  had her one true love and was pining for him. My father. The man who'd  broken her heart, only I'd only never known what had happened until she  was on her deathbed. But this wasn't the time to dwell on that, not with  Ethan smiling at me from across the table.

"I'd love to have dinner with you tomorrow night."

"I can't do tomorrow." My heart dropped, only to pick right back up again. "How about the day after?"

"Yes, please."

He twisted his wrist to look at the gleaming watch strapped to it, his  forearm muscles tightening attractively. "I should probably head back to  the hotel since I have a conference call in about thirty minutes."

"But it's Saturday."

"In my line of work, every day is a business day," he explained as he rose from the chair.

"What do you do?" I asked, following him into the living room.

"I own a security and investigations company." I wasn't surprised to  learn he was his own boss since he had an air of authority about him.  One which wasn't due to his age, but the way he carried himself.

He paused at the door, and then leaned towards me to place a gentle kiss on my cheek. "I truly am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

"I feel like I'm taking advantage of you when you're vulnerable," he murmured.

"How so?"

"Asking a pretty girl out on a date on the same day she buried her mom isn't exactly the right thing to do."

"Then don't be nice," I interrupted. "Because I'm glad you asked me out. And that you stopped by."

"Let's just hope you stay that way," he said, reaching up to tuck the  pesky lock of my hair that was always falling in my face back behind my  ear.

"Ouch!" I cried out when he pulled his hand away and his watch tugged at my hair.

"I'm sorry, baby girl. I didn't mean to hurt you," he rasped as he  carefully untangled his watch from my hair. "Never want to hurt you."

"Then don't," I answered simply, earning me a quick kiss on the lips before he turned and walked away.





Chapter 3


Ethan


Fucking strawberry shortcake.

It was a weakness of mine and with the temptation of two such sweet  treats in front of me, all rational thought had fled. Still, taking her  to dinner was harmless. And, I'd given myself two days to get my head on  straight.

I debated whether to use my connections to get a rush on the DNA test  from the hair I'd snagged off of Lilah's head. I was stuck between a  rock and a hard place. Almost literally, considering the state of my  dick since I met her. If the test was positive, then I was lusting after  my best friend's daughter-teenage daughter.

If it was negative, then I would once again be no closer to finding Samuel's child and hopefully, closure.

Either way, I knew taking her to dinner was a bad idea. Especially  without telling her who I really was, which I couldn't do until I had  the results anyway. I was being stupid and selfish, but I wanted time  with her. Before the realities of our situation intruded.

I worked from the hotel the next two days, digging into the lives of  Hanna and Delilah Brooks. I kept telling myself I would do it, but I  never did end up making the call to put a rush on the test.

Monday night approached, and I'd almost convinced myself that I would be  able to keep my distance from her. Even while taking her to dinner. I  was simply being a good friend, caring for Samuel's daughter, making  sure she was all right.

It was utter bullshit and at some point, I was going to have to stop  lying to myself. That point stabbed me in the chest the moment Lilah  opened the door for our date. Damn, she was beautiful.

Her hair was pulled to one side and wrapped in a bun thing, exposing the  length of her elegant neck. She wore a pale-pink sweater that did  everything for her generous breasts and a swishy black skirt that showed  far too much of her creamy thighs when she backed up to let me in. Her  knee-high, black, high-heeled boots begged to be the sole piece of  clothing on her luscious body when I fucked her.         

     



 

Her blue eyes sparkled with delight and plump, glossy lips lifted in a  welcoming smile. Even with her womanly, practically sinful curves, there  was an innocence about her that kept me from losing all control.

Instead of following her inside, I retreated a few feet. Not going into  the house alone with her was a miracle. Two more and I'd be eligible for  sainthood, I scoffed to myself silently. I didn't see that happening in  this lifetime because this was the moment when I knew the struggle was  pointless. I was going to do whatever it took to make Lilah mine.

She looked confused and I stepped forward again, reaching out to run a  finger down the soft skin of her cheek. "Grab your coat, baby girl," I  told her with a smile. "I'm starving."

Her grin lit up her whole face, and I nearly groaned in pain as my gut  twisted and my balls tightened from the sight. She disappeared for a  moment before returning with a light coat and joining me outside, then  locking her door. I snatched the coat from her hands and held it open  for her to slip her arms inside. My head drifted down and I inhaled the  scent permeating from her bared skin. The spicy aroma was intoxicating.

A growl of protest slipped from my chest involuntarily when she moved  away. Lilah flipped around to face me and once again, I was bowled over  by her enchanting innocence. If only she knew the thoughts that were  flooding my mind.

"Ready?" she asked sweetly. I nodded and took her hand, lacing our  fingers together. The blush that stole over her cheeks was going to be  the death of me. I'd taken a cab and instructed him to wait, so I led  Lilah over and helped her in before sliding onto the cracked, leather  bench seat beside her.

The cabbie dropped us at a quaint little Italian place a few blocks from  her apartment on the Upper East Side. She laughed as we climbed out of  the vehicle.

"We could have walked, you know."

I frowned as I opened the restaurant door for her, glancing down at her  sexy, impractical footwear. She giggled again and something warm  exploded in my chest.

"I'm a New Yorker and a woman. My feet have long since stopped trying to  convince me to wear comfortable shoes." She winked, then sashayed past  me. My hand itched to smack her sweet little ass, but I stifled the urge  and followed her to the hostess podium.

Once we were seated and had ordered, I went back to her previous  comment. It was the perfect opening. "You grew up in New York?" I asked,  knowing full well that she hadn't. Once I knew her name, I learned  everything there was to know about my girl.

"No, we moved here from a small town in Florida when I was fourteen."  The twinkle in her eyes dulled slightly. "My mom had been fighting  cancer for a couple of years and they started an experimental drug  treatment at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, so we moved here."

"I'm sorry," I murmured, covering one of her hands with my own. "It must  have been hard to move away from your home and then lose your mother so  quickly after."

Lilah nodded and took a sip of her water with her free hand. "Yes, but  nothing that is worth anything is easy. I've kept in touch with my best  friend, Maggie, and I'm thinking about moving back there to be near  her."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that would be happening over  my dead body, but I didn't want to scare her. She was so young and naïve  that I knew I needed to tread carefully.

Our food arrived and as we ate, she told me more about her friend and  childhood. Genuinely interested in anything my girl had to say, I sat  back and simply enjoyed listening. However, near the end of our meal,  there was a lull and I took the opportunity to steer the conversation.  "And"-I hesitated, trying to find the right words-"what about your  father?"

Her expression had begun to lighten again as she talked, but at the  mention of her father, I was shocked to see anger rush over her face.

"I don't want to talk about my father," she uttered darkly. "As far as I'm concerned, I don't have one."