Taming A Fortune. Nancy Robards Thompson
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And while her sweet face still looked confused in the aftermath of her unnecessary panic attack, the snug workout pants sent his testosterone soaring, and he nearly dropped the platter of grilled chicken he was holding.
Damn. If he didn’t have his hands full, he’d pull her to him, wet Lycra and all, just to offer his comfort and whatever else he could.
“Salad’s ready!” Brian yelled out the side door. “I’m starved. Can we start eating?”
“You go ahead and eat with the kids,” Angie told him. “I’m not hungry. I need to go home and get out of these wet clothes. If you want to talk more about it, we can do that in the morning.”
Then she turned toward her car.
“Wait!” Toby called to her back.
When she turned around, he said, “I’ll give you some dry clothes and a glass of wine. You look like you could use both. And after dinner, you and I can sit down and enjoy some quiet time—adults only. Then you can tell me what happened. Or, if you’d rather, you can forget all about it.”
Whatever would make her smile again.
That was, unless she wanted to get the hell away from him and the kids as fast as her toned legs would carry her.
And quite frankly, he wouldn’t blame her if she did. After all, he’d known all along how it would end. And he’d implied as much to her a few days ago when they’d discussed his nonexistent love life.
Women saw him as some sort of Captain Rescue at first. And then they ran for the hills as soon as they came face-to-face with the reality of dealing with three kids, each of whom still had some issues after living in a dysfunctional household with their aunt Barbara. But they seemed to be getting through all that, especially since Angie had started coming around.
“You know,” she said, “a glass of wine sounds great. Besides, if I go home now and run into Mr. Murdock, I just might ring his little ole leatherneck.”
Toby laughed. At least her sense of humor was coming back.
He shifted the plate into his left hand, then slipped his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, and he gave her a gentle squeeze.
A guy could get used to comforting her, even when she was soaking wet. In fact, Toby might have just stood there, holding her all night, except he had children to feed.
“Come on,” he said, as he led her to the kitchen, where the kids had gathered.
Once inside, he assigned them all chores so they could eat sooner. “Check the rice steamer, Brian. Kylie, set a place for Angie. She’s staying for dinner.”
Kylie, who was down on her hands and knees, looked up from the floor, where she was picking up some dropped silverware. “I already set the table. Well, all but the forks and spoons.”
Toby was about to warn her to get fresh utensils from the drawer, then he figured he may as well forget it since the housekeeper had been here today and had mopped the floor. So at least for tonight, the three-second rule for germ-free drops had become a three-minute rule, as far as he was concerned.
While the kids did as they’d been asked, Toby took Angie to his bedroom, where he began opening drawers, looking for something she could wear, something that might fit.
When he caught her looking at the king-sized bed in the center of the room, he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was.
And just what was he thinking?
Right now, he didn’t dare put it into words. Instead, he haphazardly handed her a worn-out Houston Texans T-shirt, along with a pair of his old cross-country shorts from Horseback Hollow High, which he figured would be too big.
If he had his way, he’d prefer to see her stay in those tight pants and sports tank. But they were wet. And even if they were dry, he had to find something else for her to wear—and quick.
It was killing him to see her looking so sexy and so vulnerable at the same time, especially since she was just an arm’s distance and mere steps away from his bed.
“While you change,” he said, “I’ll get the wine.”
Minutes later, everyone was sitting in their places when Angie came to the table. The kids must have picked up on her solemn mood, because they were so quiet you could hear a pin drop—or a man’s heart beat, his blood race.
She’d rolled his shorts up at the waist to make them fit her. The shirt barely reached the hem of the shorts, making it look as though she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
Man, he needed to get a grip. There were kids present.
And thankfully, the kids soon began to chatter, because Angie remained quiet through dinner, sipping her wine and picking at her food.
When everyone else had eaten their fill, Toby said, “Okay, guys, no TV tonight. It’s already time to pick up your rooms, take your baths and get ready for bed.”
It really wasn’t all that late, but Toby had waited long enough to get Angie alone.
With her being as pensive as she’d been at dinner, he hadn’t expected her to help out with the evening routine the way she’d done the other night she’d been here. But she surprised him by stepping right up to the plate, which was nice. The kids liked having her around.
He did, too. But he’d have to be careful that nobody got too attached. Especially him.
When Toby finished reading the next chapter of Treasure Island, Angie was still with Kylie, so he went to the kitchen and started to clean up. He’d just loaded the dishwasher when she entered the room, her shoulders slumped.
“Come on,” he said, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “The rest of this can wait until tomorrow.”
After refilling her wineglass, he grabbed a cold beer out of the fridge for himself. Then they walked into the living room. The house was noticeably quieter with all the kids tucked in.
She took a sip of the chardonnay before practically collapsing on the sofa. He recognized the signs of an adrenaline dump. Or maybe she was just emotionally exhausted.
He sat next to her, and it seemed only natural to reach out, to touch her shoulder, to finger her hair. “Okay, tell me what’s bothering you.”
She let out a ragged sigh. “I feel as though I’ve let you down.”
“Why would you think that? The way I see it, you took your responsibility seriously. I’m actually impressed.”
“Thank you, but I never should have let him out of my sight in the first place.” She closed her eyes.
“Don’t blame yourself. The same thing happens to me at least four times a week. Justin is impulsive. He has a history of running off and doing his own thing, which led to some of the behavioral problems he was having at school. We’ve been working on correcting it, but he’s eight. It happens. I should have better prepared you.”
She shuddered, and he adjusted his body so he could pull her even closer. He reminded himself that she was upset and vulnerable now, but she felt so good in his arms. He stroked her back, his fingers unhampered by any bra straps. And with those long, tanned legs bare to her thighs, she was practically naked.
Aw, man. It would be so easy to take advantage of the situation. But should he?
Then what?
She had her head cradled against his shoulder, and he was tempted to kiss the top of her head—a gentle kiss meant to comfort. But something told him he wouldn’t want to stop at gentle.
Or at the top of her head.
And kissing her would take their relationship to a level neither of them was ready for, not when three kids stood in the balance.
So he reined in his lust and didn’t kiss her at all. But he probably should have taken the opportunity while