He made the turn and stared down four blocks of gridlock. He didn’t say anything, not because of the traffic—he didn’t care about that—but because it bothered him she was shooting him down. He was trying to help.
“Listen, he’s not interested yet, that’s all.”
“It’s not just that. Apparently, he’s disruptive in class.”
“He’s living a disrupted life.” Anyone could see that would affect a kid.
“Well, there’s nothing I can do about that, is there?”
“No, there’s not, so will you save some of that temper for the friggin’ principal and quit taking it out on me?” The last thing he wanted to see was Dayton on pills if he didn’t truly need them.
“I’m sorry! They just made me feel like the most worthless person.”
“Who did?” He heard a honk and inched forward through an intersection, then stopped again and turned to Mercedes. She was back to looking high-strung and worried, brow puckered and her nostrils pinched. He hated seeing her like that. “How many people were in this meeting?”
“Only Dayton’s teacher, the principal, the vice-principal, the school nurse and the learning assistance teacher,” she said with a persecuted glitter in her eyes.
“That kind of bullshit pisses me off. Where is this school?” He hit the signal and shoulder-checked.
“What? No!” She reached out for his wrist. Her grip was warm and feminine and powerful, sending an electric charge resonating clear through his chest.
“We can’t go now,” she said, suddenly the voice of reason. She let go with a small, self-conscious closing of her fingers into a loose fist, as though holding onto something invisible. “We have to see the guy about the appliances,” she reminded, and took a big breath, then said, “But thank you. I’ve never had anyone want to beat someone up for me. It’s weirdly sweet.” Her crooked smile held some of the warmth she’d been revealing at odd moments since day one.
“What makes you think I was planning on hitting anyone?”
“Oh, try telling me you’re not a scrapper, L.C.” There wasn’t a whole lot of disapproval in her tone. She sounded more ruefully indulgent.
“That turn you on?” He saw it kind of did.
Mercedes didn’t answer, just smiled a secretive smile while she propped her elbow on the open window and watched a woman jog to catch the bus.
L.C. shook his head, trying to find his brain. “These days, I usually just swear and yell. I’m maturing.”
“Looks like you’re maintaining a fighting weight.” Her gaze flickered to his chest and thighs, silently complimenting. “Do you work out?”
“No, I work.” He draped his arm along the seatback, unable to resist issuing the invitation. Come here, pretty lady.
She noticed, hesitated. Her expression sobered and she looked out her window again.
“I still need to have Dayton assessed. They want to send me to this community clinic where the doctor writes the prescription based on the teacher’s advice. That’s not right.”
“No, it’s not.” He pulled his arm back, shifted and crept through another block, trying to focus on her problem, rather than the twitch between his thighs. She was out of her depth and he might not be the greatest swimmer, but he’d seen the same grade of rapids. “You know, I’ve seen kids way more wired than Dayton. If he’s showing a bit of aggression, put him in team sports.”
“Like I have time or money for that.” She pushed her hair off her flushed face. “I wouldn’t know what he even likes.”
“Baseball’s probably starting. He’d run out some energy and learn to follow rules. Maybe if he got some baseball cards, he’d be motivated to read them.”
“These kinds of problems aren’t resolved by signing up a kid for baseball, L.C.”
“They’re not resolved by giving him a pill, either. Damn it, I took pills as a kid. Look how I turned out. I’m afraid to take an aspirin in case I like it too much.” He waited until they got past the worst of the snarl, then geared up, maybe a shade too aggressive. “You don’t have to advertise that.”
“I wouldn’t.” She rolled her rings. “Turn right up here. See the sign?”
He turned into the parking lot for the wholesale appliance outlet, parked, and they both stepped out of the truck into the warming day. He waited for her in the shade in front of the building while she shouldered her purse and gathered some papers. When she approached him, he took her arms to get her full attention.
God, she felt good. A tremor washed through him, enticing and addictive, but he only stroked her soft skin with his thumbs and said, “Give it time. Tell them you want a chance for him to get settled. I know you think you’re ‘only’ their aunt, but you’re not a stand-in. Don’t let them treat you like they know better. You’re the one in charge.”
Her mouth trembled. “Thank you.”
Her voice was barely there, the way it might sound against his ear in moments of intense need. She looked past him, her hand came up, he started to loosen his hold on her, and her gaze found his.
And she blew him away with the helpless want in the depths of her eyes.
He was trying, damn it. He was really—
He let himself touch her hair, finally, finding it soft and springy. It tickled his palm until he pressed through the textured mass to cup the side of her head.
She tilted her head up and stepped into him. He went for it. Dropped his mouth on her parted lips and let out a gratified groan of relief.
Oh God, she had known this man would know how to kiss. His mouth was firm, but capable of being tender, possessing and retreating, taking in a bold pressure, then easing to something almost like comfort before he wrapped his arm behind her and pulled her in to be devoured.
She consumed him right back, flattening her hand on the hot, thin cotton across his back and jamming herself against all that muscled heat. Their tongues met and the jolt of excitement tore of sob of want from her throat. He hitched her closer still, tilting her head back a little more, so her mouth was fully under his. He moved his tongue in a slow penetration and retreat. His hand brushed past the open edge of her top and cupped her breast through her tank, massaging with firm pressure.
A rush of dampness wet her panties and she arched into him, rubbing against the ridge she could feel like a log pressing into her abdomen. Fuck me, she thought, wanting him like that. Basic and thorough and animalistic and oh, so satisfying.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling away, kissing her again, wet and hard, then a little softer. “You wanna go somewhere?”
“No,” she moaned, dropping her forehead into his collarbone. “We shouldn’t have done this. You know that, right?” She lifted her head, making herself face what she expected would be a peeved expression. If he called her a tease, she would hate him, but she wouldn’t blame him.
His mouth formed a dismayed line, but there wasn’t any censure there. His gaze stayed flinty and he continued to hold her waist even when she moved her hands to his forearms.
“Are you mad?” she had to ask.
He snorted. “Babe, I’ve been turned down as often as I’ve been waved in. I’ll survive.”
She wasn’t sure she believed that. She had a feeling he’d been waved in a lot.
“Look.” His hands moved restlessly against her waist. “If you need to let off some steam, I get it. I am more than willing to be your release. But for what’s it’s worth, I’m not just looking to get laid. Which doesn’t mean I’m looking for a relationship. I’m definitely not. But I’m not trying to get you into bed because you’re the only woman under eighty in my neighborhood.” His mouth quirked, but she could tell he was being sincere. “I like you. You turn me on. I think we’d cause some needle jumps on the Richter scale. But if you don’t want to do that, that’s okay. We can still talk about the kids and I’ll still fix your house.”
She swallowed, fingers unable to resist stroking the smooth skin of his strong forearms. “I don’t care what Mrs. Garvey says about you. I think you’re nice.”
She was being cheeky and he smirked in response.
“Nice?” He gave a fake spit and dropped his hold with mock disgust. “If you’re going to stand here and insult me, I’m going inside.”
She liked him, too.
But she couldn’t have a man in her life right now. It was so Porsha. Especially a recovering... Good grief, she didn’t even know what all he was recovering from. A hard life, she guessed.
If only she didn’t have the kids.
But she did.
So she couldn’t have him.
She wanted him, though. Bad.
Mercedes tried not to think about him, but he was there in her mind anyway, all week. When she spoke to the school, she felt as though L.C. stood beside her while she stood up for Dayton. Every time she spoke to Zack, she wanted to ask if he had worked things out with his dad. Then L.C. brought home a ping-pong table, balanced it on the wall between their two patios, and played for an hour with the kids while she painted and pushed the unit another step toward livable.
He wasn’t trying to score points, either. He genuinely thought the kids would enjoy playing and they did.