“Yeah, I’ve never been in a heated pool before.” She started to dry off her arms. “It’s incredible!”
“Honestly, right now? The one out there is probably just as warm.” I chuckled under my breath. “It rarely gets cold in California.”
“Where I’m from?” She raised both eyebrows. “It’s cold in the summer—well, windy.”
“Yeah, I remember.” I smiled and nodded. “That’s one thing about Chicago and London that I definitely don’t miss.”
“I could definitely get used to this weather…” Chrissy turned and started drying off her legs—giving me a perfect view of her heart shaped ass in the process.
Yep, I should turn around and leave—I shouldn’t stare—fuck!
I didn’t turn around. I watched as she bent down to dry her legs—watched as her bikini slid towards the crevice of her ass and left little to the imagination. She was no kid. My cock started to stiffen in my pants and I still kept staring. I finally broke my gaze and just looked towards the pool. I could still see her out of the corner of my eyes, but at least I wasn’t looking at her like some kind of pervert when she turned around. I reminded myself that she was Sam’s daughter over-and-over, but it was really hard to tell myself that the beautiful woman in front of me was the same little pigtailed kid I saw a couple of times before I moved to Los Angeles. She was all grown up, that was for damn sure.
“I need to swing by the college tomorrow and pick up some stuff. Are you still cool with me borrowing one of your cars?” She wrapped the towel around her body and started walking towards the door.
“Yeah—of course.” I nodded quickly. “You could always have John drive you if you want.”
“I think…” She turned back towards me and bit down on her bottom lip. “I kind of want to drive the Porsche.”
“Then consider it yours while you’re here.” I walked ahead of her and held the door open. “Unless you just want to drive a different car every day of the week…”
“Except the Maserati, right?” She gave me a quick wink.
“Right…” I nodded and followed her into the hallway that led back to the main part of the house.
I made arrangements for dinner and was relieved when she walked downstairs to eat in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. That—kept me from
staring at least. Unfortunately, seeing her gorgeous curves opened a door in my head that I couldn’t close. I started noticing how her sky-blue eyes shimmered when she laughed—how her lips were perfectly pouty, which made me think about how good they would feel if they were pressed against mine—or wrapped around something else. I felt like I was losing my mind. She didn’t just open a door in my head—she was snuggled up on the couch in my mind and ready to put her feet up. I had to get her out of my mind, and the best way to do that—was with a drink.
“Hey, that theater downstairs…” Chrissy walked into the living room as I was pouring some Scotch into a highball glass.
“Yeah?” I looked over at her.
“Does it have Netflix?” She raised her eyebrows inquisitively.
“Um, no…” I shook my head back and forth. “I don’t have much time for television. I could probably set it up, if you want, but I’m pretty sure there’s an app on the television over there though.”
“Ah okay. I don’t get to go to the movies much, so Netflix is about all I have.” She picked up the remote. “Do you mind if I watch something?”
“There’s nothing at the theater right now that you want to see? No good movies out?” I lifted my glass and took a sip.
There we go. The alcohol will get my head screwed on straight.
“There might be…” She shrugged. “But I don’t really want to go to the movies. I just thought it would be fun to watch my shows on the big screen.”
“No, I mean—if the theater has it, so do I.” I tilted my head slightly.
“What? How?” She blinked in surprise.
“Think of it like…” I raised an eyebrow as I pondered how to describe it. “Netflix for those who know the right people.”
“Okay, well—then yeah. I’d much rather watch something down there!” She smiled and nodded.
We went down to the theater and Chrissy decided that she wanted to watch a horror movie that had just been released. It wasn’t my favorite genre—but I didn’t care. I fired up the popcorn machine and made a batch. It really didn’t go with Scotch, so I just let her fix what she wanted. Everything in the theater was controlled with a remote, so I set up the movie, got the lights dimmed properly, and walked over to take my seat.
“This is—kind of like a date.” She giggled slightly, but then her eyes opened wide. “I mean, not that we’re on a date.”
“We’re definitely not on a date.” I exhaled sharply.