Coolly, I come to stand in front of her, blocking the sun’s rays, and she frowns a bit. She lifts sunglasses to shoot me an inquiring look from beneath those dark lashes. But before I can ask her about her job search, she smiles and cuts me off.
“Will you do me a favor, Clancy?”
Internally, I groan. Oh no, what is it this time? Will she be asking to move into my bedroom? Not that I’d say no. Instead, I frown and keep my reaction in check.
“What’s the favor this time?” I growl.
Smiling happily, Selena hands me a bottle of suntan lotion and rolls onto her stomach on the lounger.
“Would you mind applying sunscreen to my back? I can’t reach, and I really don’t want to get burned. When you’re fair, like me, it just takes fifteen minutes and then I look like a piece of overdone toast,” she giggles.
I grin despite myself. I really don’t want to do this, but I also don’t want her to think I came out here just to berate her about her job search by jumping down her throat about it. So reluctantly, I sit and take the tube of lotion from her hands.
“Okay sure, but why don’t you tell me about your job search while I apply the lotion?” I manage in a normal voice while squirting some of the liquid on my hands. Then, I begin kneading the back of her calves in circular motions.
Her breath hitches, but Selena smiles a bit.
“It’s going okay,” she says. “Well, actually, it’s not. I’ve sent out so many resumes, but I haven’t heard back from anyone.”
I nod with my eyes glued to those creamy calves. She feels so good underneath my hands and I begin squeezing her legs, enjoying the soft, moist smoothness of her skin.
“It takes a while,” I growl, although I can hardly hear my own words now. “You’ve only been at it a week.”
Selena smiles sadly as I massage up to her thighs.
“Not exactly,” she admits. “I was looking for a job before I came to you, Clancy, so actually it’s been about three weeks of rejections. It sucks.”
“Okay,” I manage in a neutral voice. “Well, keep at it. I’m sure something will work out.” A silence descends and I’d be happy to never talk again, but instead some garbled words come out of my throat. “You’ve got toned legs,” I growl almost involuntarily.
What? Why the fuck did I say that?
But Selena just giggles.
“I run regularly,” she informs me. “I have for years. It was something I started doing in college, and I really like it. I try to get out most mornings, but with everything that’s happened with the move and the job, I’ve been slacking a little, so I haven’t had the chance since I moved in here.”
That makes sense. “Yeah, running’s good exercise,” I growl. “But there’s an alarm system in the penthouse that’s on from midnight until 6:30 in the morning, so remind me to give you the code if you’re going for an early run. That way, you won’t set it off by accident.”
Selena nods, stretching a bit on the lounger, and my hands still. God, she’s gorgeous and I watch as her bottom quivers a bit from the movement.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I don’t want to summon the Fire Department by accident, so I’m glad I didn’t try to go out before you told me that.”
I laugh slightly although the chuckles sound hoarse. “I guess that’s a good thing.”
Another silence descends, but it’s comfortable this time as I move from her legs up to her back. Her curves are soft under my fingertips, and I’ve never touched a woman’s bare body like this, unless I was sleeping with her. But I force my thoughts into check. This is no way to think about a woman who’s literally the daughter of my deceased wife, no matter how gorgeous she is. Yet, it’s also impossible to ignore the flame raging in my groin as I make another half-hearted attempt at conversation.
“You know, too much sun is bad for your skin,” I say in a casual tone, and I can almost see Selena roll her eyes behind those dark glasses.
“I know, I know. When I get skin cancer, I’ll call you and let you know you were right.”
“Not just that,” I growl. “It also causes early wrinkles. You’ll look older faster. I mean, look at me. I’m a weather-beaten piece of used leather, and it’s because of the sun.”
A smile tugs at one corner of her lips.
“No, you’re not, Clancy,” she murmurs. “You look good for a man of your age.” Did I really hear that? But then she jerks abruptly as my hands reach up to the straps of her bikini. “Oh wait, hold on,” she says quickly before undoing the back clasp and allowing the sides of her swimsuit to fall away. Of course, my stepdaughter is face first on the lounger, so I don’t actually see anything, but still. Is this really happening? Is this gorgeous woman dressed in nothing but a g-string, laid out like a goddess begging to be ravished?