‘Was that one of those minimum wage jobs you were talking about yesterday?’ she asked. ‘In the small town near Lafayette?’
‘Sure, but this was in Lafayette. Nobody would hire me in my hometown,’ he said, trying not to get fixated on the memory of how sweet she’d tasted when he’d...
‘Why not?’ she asked, sounding upset, and the indignant tone interrupted his wayward thoughts.
‘Because of my old man’s reputation.’ He picked up the whisk and dragged his gaze away from the danger zone.
You’re not jumping her again, Broussard, this booty call is over.
‘That seems very unfair.’
‘Huh?’ he said, having totally lost the thread of their conversation.
‘Why should you be blamed for your father’s bad reputation?’
He stared at her sympathetic expression as the guileless question registered and the slow throb of his pulse became a gallop.
Hang on a minute? He’d told her that? What the...?
He never spoke about his father, or that time in his life. Certainly not to a hook-up. Because he’d gone to some pains to cover it up when he’d been starting out. He hadn’t wanted his father’s crimes tarnishing his company the way they had tarnished so much of his childhood and adolescence. But now, as she stared at him, the concern in her gaze had his ribs feeling tight. The way they had during the night, when he’d held her in his arms as they’d both dropped into sleep.
His galloping pulse charged into his throat.
Hell, no. They were not going to have this conversation. Talking about his old man was off-limits.
‘How about you go find yourself something to wear in the housekeeper’s annexe while I get these done? Mrs Mendoza’s about your size—you can get to it through the mud room.’
He had to get her out of that thigh-skimming T and into something a lot more substantial before he got so damn distracted he ended up blurting out his whole life story.
‘I’m guessing the gold dress is a write-off,’ he added.
‘Um...yes—yes, it is.’
Her eyes widened, and a flush rose up her throat—making him almost feel bad for changing the subject so abruptly. Almost.
‘Won’t Mrs Mendoza think it’s a bit odd that I came all this way with no clothes,’ she asked, as the blush hit her cheeks.
And then he figured out the cause of her embarrassment. This had to be the first time in her life she’d ever done the walk of shame after a booty call.
His ribs contracted again. Bingo, buddy! Now you feel even more invested. Terrific.
‘Mrs Mendoza’s not here,’ he said, his tone gruffer and more impatient than he had intended. ‘I get the staff to vacate when I’m on the island,’ he added. ‘Like I said, I prefer my privacy. Take whatever you need and I’ll make sure she’s reimbursed.’
‘Oh, okay...’
Her gaze flickered away from his face and he felt like a jerk, which didn’t improve his mood at all.
She slipped off the stool, and her unfettered breasts bounced enticingly under the soft cotton of his old T. A shaft of heat hit him square in the gut. It came with a brutal side order of regret that he wouldn’t be able to feast on those ripe, responsive nipples again.
‘I’ll go and see what I can find,’ she said, flicking a thumb over her shoulder. ‘And be back ASAP.’
‘Don’t rush on my account,’ he said, going the full jerk and trying not to care. Better she knew this was the end of the road. ‘The batter needs to sit for a while before I start flipping.’
She’d complicated things with her possible virginity. Made him feel responsible in a way he never had before and blurt out stuff he’d never told anyone. Not to mention deal with the worst case of FOMO known to man as his gaze tracked the sweet, sultry sway of her hips under the butt-skimming T-shirt as she headed for the mud room.
The journey back to the city in his seaplane, surrounded by her scent and tortured by memories of last night, was going to be an hour-long lesson in sexual frustration.
He’d just sprinkled some more flour into the egg and milk mixture, trying to concentrate on getting through the next couple of hours without losing what was left of his mind, when he heard a rattling hum and spotted Cassandra’s cell phone, vibrating against the granite countertop. He picked it up, intending to switch it off, but caught sight of the notification that flashed onto the home screen.