“It means you’re the boss,” he explained, straightening and giving Bex the kind of hopeful, optimistic smile that made her want to strip her panties off and toss them at him. “Unless your mum says otherwise.”
Izzy whirled around. “Mummy?”
She laughed. “You can be boss for a while longer, baby.”
“Yay!” She spun around and around, her dress twirling with her, then steadied herself, gripping onto her tiara to make sure it hadn’t fallen off. “Can we have a tea party?”
Bex sidled over to Michael and brushed her hand against his, unwilling to be any more obvious in view of her daughter, but needing whatever skin-on-skin contact she could get.
“Why don’t you ask Michael if he’ll have a tea party with you while I finish making dinner?”
Izzy’s pleading brown eyes shifted from Bex to Michael. “Pretty please. I have the best teacups and scones, and you can pretend to be my servant.”
Bex hid a smile.
Michael laughed, the sound rich and pleasant, then bowed again. “Give me two minutes with your mother, and then I’ll be there.”
Izzy dashed off to get her things ready. Michael pulled Bex aside and she leaned in for a kiss, but stopped short at his expression.
“Mum and Dad have been harassing Wesley about getting back to Wellington before his visit to meet Izzy becomes a ‘problem,’” he said, tone serious. “I just thought you should know.”
Her stomach sank. She should have known the Briggston parents wouldn’t keep their noses out of Wesley’s business. Especially at a time like this.
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
He squeezed her hand, and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Everything will be all right.”
She hoped so. At that moment, Izzy reappeared and held a hand out to Michael. He took it, and she led him to her miniature table, where a plastic tea had been set out. Bex watched them, her heart swelling with affection. Michael Briggston was a remarkable man. He happily agreed to Izzy’s edict that he sit on the floor while she took the chair, because she was liege after all, and proceeded to pretend to eat her plastic scones and pick up a tiny teacup between his large forefinger and thumb.
If she hadn’t already wanted to jump him, she would now.
She finished preparing dinner—chicken enchiladas—and they ate at the big table, although Izzy tried to get them to join her at the miniature one. Afterward, Michael cleaned up while she brushed Izzy’s hair and got her ready for bed. She’d just tucked Izzy in, when her daughter wriggled deeper and murmured sleepily.
“Can Michael read me a story?”
Huh. Her daughter had never asked for anyone other than Bex before, and while she was pleased Izzy liked Michael, something in her chest pinched uncomfortably. She tried to ignore it. If he and Wesley were going to be in Izzy’s life, she’d better get used to it. Having them around would be good for her daughter, wouldn’t it? Even if it felt like control was slipping out of her grasp.
“I’ll go get him, sweetheart. Wait here.” Pacing back down the hall, she found Michael in the living room, sprawled on the couch. He smiled up at her, his expression tender but promising plenty of naughty things. “Izzy is asking for you,” she told him. “She’d like you to read her a bedtime story.”
He came upright, running a hand through his hair, his face lit with excitement. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She bent and kissed him, feeling guilty for her earlier hesitation. She lingered, enjoying the softness of his lips and his masculine scent. “Help her pick one from the shelf beside her bed. I’ll wait out here.”
His brows drew together in concern. “You’re not coming with me? What if I screw it up? I haven’t read a bedtime story before.”
His uncertainty only made him more freaking adorable. He actually cared about how well he read a simple children’s book to a five-year-old.
“Michael, sweetie, she knows those books back to front and inside out. She just wants to spend more time with you.” Moving closer, she kissed him again, wondering how she could ever begrudge him a role in Izzy’s life. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. I’ll come with you, if you like.”
Relief washed over his features. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Slipping her hand into his, she led him to her daughter’s bedroom and made herself comfortable on the floor while he perched on the edge of the bed and took the book Izzy had selected. He glanced at her, as if for reassurance, then opened the book and started to read. He’d only made it halfway through the story when Izzy started snoring softly. He closed it, but Bex gestured for him to continue.
“If you don’t finish, she wakes up,” she whispered.
With a grin, he reopened the book and kept going until the last page. Then he set it down and studied Izzy. His expression was soft and adoring. When he looked at her daughter that way, Bex’s ovaries went crazy. He smoothed Izzy’s hair off her forehead, pulled the blankets to the top of her shoulders, then tiptoed to the door after Bex. As soon as it clicked shut behind them, she tugged him into her bedroom, closed the door, and pressed him against the wall. Her thoughts were whirring out of control, and she needed to act. To feel like she was in charge of something. Anything.
Michael’s arms looped around her waist and he tugged her close, then dipped his head and claimed her lips. Heat seared between them, blinding in its intensity. She clasped her hands either side of his neck and rose onto her toes, straining to eliminate any and all space between them. They tasted each other, teased each other. Lips pliant, but each touch not enough to satisfy them.