Heat of the Moment (7 page)

Did she? “It's fine.”

Janie didn't look convinced. She didn't say anything, but then Janie could say more without words than anyone Erin had ever known, except maybe for Cam. His every look spoke volumes.

The night before Erin had barely kept her guard up while Cam did his best to knock it down. And when he held her, it was all she could do not to melt into him. The only thing that kept her from doing just that was fear.

Fear that she was the only one moved by their shared experience. Cam's exclamation and the look of terror on his face was enough to make her consider entering a nunnery.

Fear of the pain—she'd known Cam a week, she'd slept with him once, and the free fall she'd experienced was one she never wanted to repeat. In the span of a few seconds she went from the stratospheric pinnacle of elation and feeling connected to someone like she'd never imagined possible, to the depths of despair that left her stomach in her throat, her mind reeling, and her heart shattered. The landing was a bitch.

Fear that she was one of a long line of women who had made that same free fall had overtaken her. At first she thought being together had been as meaningful and special for him as it had been for her, but then, what did she know? She didn't have much experience when it came to sex, but what little she did have couldn't be compared to her experience with Cam. She'd slept with two men. Neither had looked into her eyes and seen her, connected with her, touched her mind, her body, and her soul. No man before Cam had ever satisfied her, but then no man had ever hurt her before either.

Telling Cam to release her and pulling away from him both physically and emotionally had taken all her strength.

“Erin.” Janie's impatient tone broke through the brain fog the coffee had yet to burn off.

The coffee might do the trick if she were to actually drink it; she'd been staring at her mug, which wasn't much help. “I'm sorry, what did you say?”

Janie just shook her head as if resigned. “Dad's been acting the same way you are now. Maybe you need to say you're sorry too.”

“For what?”

“For whatever you did or said that's making you sad.”

“Sometimes it's the situation, and nothing you say or do can change that.”

“There's always a way to change things.” Janie sounded so much older than her years; it was hard to remember she wasn't even eight yet.

Could she change the situation? Yes, she could leave, but that wouldn't change the fact that she was miserable. If she left, she'd also be leaving Janie, whom she'd had grown to care for more over the last week than she'd ever expected to. And leaving Janie would make her even more miserable than she was already. Plus, Erin had never walked out on a job for personal reasons. She was a professional as well as a woman of her word, and she'd told Cam she'd stay. She just needed to get past this uncomfortable made-a-mistake-and-fell-into-bed-together stage. She was sure she could, if only Cam would stop touching her and looking at her like he wanted to pick her up and drag her off to bed again. That so wasn't going to happen.
Screw me once, shame on you. Screw me twice, shame on me.

Erin ran a hand over the peach fuzz on Janie's head. “It's nothing for you to worry about, kiddo. I'm very happy to be here with you, and that's all that matters. The rest of it will work out too.”

Janie didn't look as if she believed it, even if it was the God's honest truth. And unfortunately, there was nothing Erin could do to speed up the process.

***

Cam had come home late off a bad job. The cause of the fire was arson—no question. The only thing left to discover was whether the poor sucker who'd been in the building had been murdered on purpose or if he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. In Cam's mind, it didn't much matter—dead was dead.

Instead of heading home and finishing up the report the next morning like he normally would, he'd called Erin and told her he'd be late. He'd have much rather eaten dinner with Erin and Janie, but the Boston PD had a case to work, and his report would become part of a homicide investigation, and in his mind, that took precedence over going home. He wanted to do everything he could to make sure the guilty party got good and nailed. So he'd sucked it up, finished his work, and turned it all over to the detective in charge.

By the time Cam returned home everyone had been tucked into bed. Not that he'd checked on Erin. No, Erin in bed or out of it was off-limits, much to his dismay. He tossed his shirt and jacket in the laundry and headed to the shower to wash the stink of fire and death off him.

He pressed his hands against the cold tile, stretching his neck, shoulders, and back, and let the hot water beat away the tension. It had been five days since Erin had come home looking like a 1940s starlet. Five days since he'd held her in his arms. Five days of tiptoeing around each other, which, shit . . . wasn't exactly the truth. He scrubbed the soot and smoke and sweat from his body and turned the hot water down enough to discourage his dick, but not enough for his balls to duck and cover. He'd been the one tiptoeing around Erin. He wasn't sure what she was doing around him, other than keeping him awake at night. And as awful as it sounded, he knew she wasn't doing it on purpose. It was in the tilt of her chin, the way her eyes shone when she talked to Janie. It was in the way she totally immersed herself in whatever she was doing, whether it be reading a bedtime story, cooking dinner, reorganizing his home and his life, or making love with him.

Erin Crosby gave one hundred percent with no thoughts of self-protection—she couldn't help herself. And that was what made Erin Crosby the sexiest, most incredibly loving woman he'd ever known.

He understood why she'd left nursing. Sure, she'd told him at the interview, but after getting to know her, he realized the true depth of the problem. If Erin became one-tenth as attached to her patients as she was to Janie, then losing one would be devastating. And after his disastrous pillow talk, he understood why she'd kept her distance from him. It wasn't because she didn't want him; it was because he'd given her good reason not to trust him with her body or her heart. He'd given her good reason to feel the need to protect herself from him. Shit—just the thought of it was enough to make him want to bang his head against the wall, and not for the first time. He'd spent so much time kicking his own ass he probably sported bruises.

From what little Erin had shared about her life before coming there, it sounded as if she and her mom never had anyone in their corner. They had no one they could trust to care for and protect them. He'd do just about anything to prove himself worthy, to be that man for Erin.

Janie was thriving under Erin's care, and for that matter so was he—except for the lack of sleep. He couldn't blame his sex drive on Erin. She didn't do anything to encourage it. She did just the opposite, in fact, but all it seemed to take was her nearness to get him going. He'd spent the last two years without so much as a thought about sex, but after Erin Crosby knocked at his door, he'd been able to think of little else.

He turned the water to frigid and did his best to think positive even though his balls were shrinking to the size of peanuts. In the last day or two, things with Erin had been looking up. He'd almost teased a laugh out of her before she remembered she was supposed to ignore him. And there were a couple of times when Janie said or did something cute and Erin would catch his eye and smile like one parent might to the other. Like they were connected.

Slowly but surely she was letting her guard down, and he was going to do everything he could to blast it out of existence. He just needed some time and he'd prove himself to her. Between now and the day Mrs. Truman returned, he would be the perfect gentleman if it killed him. Then once Erin was no longer his employee, he'd ask her out and, if he had to, he'd get down on his knees and beg for another chance.

With that thought firmly planted in his mind, he shut off the cold water, stepped out of the shower, and dried off, all the while trying to keep his thoughts off of Erin sleeping just down the hall.

His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He tied the towel around his waist and considered checking out the leftovers, but couldn't scare up the energy. No, he needed to sleep, so he grabbed his toothbrush, squeezed too much toothpaste onto it, and took his frustration out on his teeth.

When he opened the bathroom door, he walked right into a very sleepy Erin. Her hair was all over the place and her oversize boxers were slightly twisted as if she'd been tossing and turning.

“You're home. I heard the water running and I thought it was Janie.” Her gaze traveled from his feet, pausing at the waist, and then continuing slowly up to his face. “I came to check on her.”

“I'm sorry I woke you.” It was a lie. Waking her was the highlight of his day, but he hoped she was too tired to notice. Still, the sight of her all warm and sleepy and sexy, with those boxers hanging crookedly off her hips, made it a pretty sure bet he would be doing anything but sleeping soundly.

“It's really late.”

God, she was beautiful. “You should go back to bed.”

She shook her head—her hair flying around her face. “That's not what I meant.”

“Okay, what did you mean?” Was she trying to kill him or give him reason to become hypothermic? He couldn't help himself; he tucked the strand of hair that fell in her eyes behind her ear. She didn't shy away. Progress.

“I've been worried. You've been gone so long—longer than usual. The investigation—was it bad?”

“It was as bad as they get. Arson and murder. We don't have enough information to know if it was premeditated.”

“Oh, Cam. I'm sorry.” She ran a hand down his arm, slipping it into his palm and squeezing.

“I needed to get the report to the detective taking over the case so I didn't hold up the investigation.”

“Are you okay?”

He'd never had anyone worry about him before—well, he supposed his dad worried about the physical job, but not about how any of them felt. Men were supposed to buck up and take it. He hated that he'd worried her, but he loved that she'd cared enough about him to worry. He didn't release her hand, and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and crush her against him. She looked fragile, and as she stared at him, her eyes glassed over like she was fighting tears. God, she was sweet. “I'm fine.”

She stepped closer and looked up at him as if she were trying to decide whether or not to believe him. “Are you sure?”

Hell no, he wasn't sure. He took a deep breath of Erin-scented air, and all he knew for sure was that he wanted to wrap his arms around her and bury his nose in her hair, her neck, her cleavage. He'd thought he was fine, but maybe he'd been wrong. Standing half naked in the hallway, whispering to her and holding her hand, loosened what he thought were permanent knots in his neck and shoulders. Stress he hadn't realized he'd carried slipped away, only to be replaced by a very different kind of tension. Damn, he needed to get away from her bedroom eyes, sexy tank top, crooked boxers, and long, long, long legs. The woman was enough to tempt a eunuch. “I'll survive.”

“Do you want to talk about it? Have you eaten? I can heat up your dinner or fix you an early breakfast.”

“Thanks, but no. We both need to—” Go to bed. Together. And not get a wink of sleep for the next few hours. But since that couldn't happen again, he blew out a breath. “Get some sleep. Janie will be up with the birds.”

“Cam.” She reached over and cupped his cheek in her hand, while her other hand squeezed his.

God, the way she said his name, all low and throaty and sounding softly intimate, mixed with the touch of her hand to his roughened cheek had his dick searching for a way out of the towel.

“I'm here if you need me.”

He kept telling himself she didn't mean it the way it sounded. His throat was raw and tight. He wasn't sure if it was from the smoke he'd inhaled or the look in her sea-glass green eyes so full of compassion and something else he refused to label. The last time she looked at him like that, he'd kissed her.

He didn't trust his voice, so he nodded, dropped her hand, walked to his room, and forced himself to close the door. Sleep was a fantasy and apparently, so was Erin.

“Cam, Janie, come inside and wash up. Dinner's almost ready.”

Erin identified two sets of footsteps running through the mud room. “Take those muddy shoes off and make sure you stop in the bathroom and wash your hands. Both of you.”

She'd spent half her time preparing dinner and the other half watching the two of them wrestling with a tire and trying to turn it into a swing. Janie was having a great time helping Cam, and he seemed to enjoy her antics, even though she did everything but help. The man had the patience of a saint. He'd bundled Janie up so she looked like a pink version of the Michelin Man along with a scarf and gloves, or as Janie called them, glubs. Cam had gone out in a T-shirt, albeit a long-sleeved one. He only sported a hoodie because Erin had brought it out, insisted he wear it, and threatened to stand out in the cold, refusing to return to making dinner, until he'd donned it. Stubborn man.

She stepped out of the kitchen and watched them together at the sink of the half bath. Janie stood in front of Cam, her armpits hitting the edge of the sink. Cam's hands surrounded her smaller ones and scrubbed. Janie's giggling floated down the hall.

Cam caught her spying and winked. “Good enough for you, Nurse Crosby?”

“Make sure you wash your faces too—they're both covered with mud.” She turned to leave and heard Janie's muffled laughter and wished she'd stayed to watch Cam try to wash her face. The girl hated it.

A minute later Cam stomped into the kitchen carrying a still squirming Janie. “I did the best I could. The towel's toast though.”

Erin pulled it off Cam's shoulder and swiped a spot close to his ear that he'd missed. “Who would have thought that installing a tire swing would be such a dirty job?”

Janie jumped in her stocking feet. “It was fun. I got to try it out and everything.”

“I saw.” There was dried mud on Janie's jeans—Cam's too, now that she was looking. “It's a good thing it's bath night.” Erin pulled the platter of fried chicken out of the oven and set it on the table with the rest of the dishes.

Cam and Janie's eyes widened.

“What is it? Don't you like fried chicken?”

Cam smiled at Janie before returning his gaze to Erin. “It's our favorite. You made it?”

Erin wasn't sure why he asked. “Where do you think it came from?”

“The grocery store, or KFC.”

“No, sorry to disappoint, but it's homemade. I used my grandma Jean's recipe. I never met her, but I have all her recipes and I went home to get her fryer too.” She motioned to the deep cast iron skillet on the stove. “You didn't have one, and that's the secret to perfect fried chicken, or so I'm told.”

Cam stood there next to her chair, as if he were waiting for something.

“What is it?”

He just took her hand and helped her into her chair.

“Oh, thanks.” She felt like a stupid debutante. Her cheeks flamed.

Janie climbed onto her seat and grabbed a leg while Cam spooned potato salad and green beans with ham onto her plate, passing the food to Erin before sitting down.

For some reason, she felt suddenly nervous. As if this dinner were some sort of test. She filled her plate, passed the serving bowls back to Cam, and watched him put more food on his plate than she thought it could hold.

He took a bite of a chicken thigh and groaned. Her mouth went dry, her cheeks felt flushed, and she took a big gulp of ice water. The last time she'd heard that sound, they'd been making love.

“This is amazing.” He scooped up a pile of potato salad and shoveled it in with another groan of appreciation.

A phone rang.

Cam pulled his cell off his belt, looked at the caller ID, and swallowed. “I'm sorry, but I have to take this.” He was out of his seat and heading down the hall on his way to the office. “Cam O'Leary.”

Janie put away three chicken legs and even ate her green beans without prodding. “Erin, this is the best meal ever. Could you make it for me on my birthday?”

Erin wasn't going to be there for Janie's birthday. “Sure, maybe you and your dad could come over to my apartment and have dinner. I'll even make a cake.”

“Why do you want to go to your apartment?”

“Because that's where I'll be, sweetie. I'm only going to work here for another couple of weeks until Mrs. Truman comes back to take over, remember?”

“You're not going to stay with us?”

“No, Mrs. Truman will return and I'll have to move back into my apartment. You know that. I need to get back and start looking for a job in my field. That's why I'm working so hard to get my thesis done.”

“I knew Mrs. Truman would be coming back, and I knew you were going to look for a job, but I didn't think you were going to leave us. I don't want you to leave.”

Erin didn't want to leave either, but she wouldn't say it. “Janie, I'm not going very far away, and we'll still be . . . friends.” God, that sounded so lame, even to her ears. “You can call me whenever you want.”

“But you won't tuck me into bed every night, and you won't be here in the morning.” Big tears filled Janie's eyes and leaked down her sweet little cheeks.

“No, sweetie, I won't.” She would not cry. “Janie, it'll be different, but—”

“You'll be gone.” Janie slid off her seat and ran down the hall.

Erin wanted to go to her, but what could she say? Everything Janie said was the truth—Erin was going to be gone, and Janie and Cam would become part of her past. Maybe they'd talk a few times, meet for dinner, but it wouldn't be the same. Mrs. Truman would come back in two weeks and Erin would be nothing more to them than a pleasant memory for Janie. For Cam, she wasn't sure what she'd be. And for the first time in her life she wanted something she had no chance of obtaining. She wanted Janie and Cam. She wanted a family. God help her, she'd gone and fallen in love with them both.

***

Cam hung up the phone and rested his head on the high back of the leather chair at the desk that used to be his. It was cluttered with Erin's work and Janie's scribbles. There was a book on bees, one of the Magic School Bus books, and a Junie B. Jones paperback that looked like it had been read a thousand times. The room even smelled like Erin. What the hell was he going to do now? He stood, feeling twice his age, and headed back to the kitchen.

Erin looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“I'm sorry I ruined dinner. Mrs. Truman called and I had to talk to her.”

“Cam, Janie's upset and I'm not sure how to handle it. She asked if I would make fried chicken for her birthday and I told her I wouldn't be here and that Mrs. Truman would be back in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, about that.” He turned the chair around and sat with the back between his legs, his arms resting on the top. “Mrs. Truman's mother fell and broke her hip.”

“Is she going to be alright?”

“I think so, but Mrs. Truman has decided to stay down there permanently to take care of her mom.” He shrugged. “I know it's a lot to ask, but I need to find another nanny and I was hoping you'd help.”

“You want me to help you hire a nanny?” She looked at him as if he'd asked her to hire a hit man.

“I know you only have a couple more weeks here, so I was thinking if we could find someone to replace Mrs. Truman, you could work with her the last week, get her used to the routine, and ease Janie into the change. I'd do it myself, but I'm on call for the next few days and you know what that's like.”

Erin still had a weird look on her face, but he had no idea what that particular look meant. He'd never seen it before.

“Oh, okay. If you tell me what agency you got Mrs. Truman from, I'd be happy to make the call, go through their resumes, and check references. I can even set up interview appointments.”

He nodded, proud of himself that he hadn't begged her to stay. It wouldn't have been fair to her. And hell, he wanted to date her, not employ her.

“What are we going to tell Janie?”

“The truth.” He took one last look at his plate. “I'll go up and talk to her.” He stood and Erin did too. “She'll be fine. I'll call you if I need backup. And I'm really sorry about ruining dinner.”

“Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?”

Yeah, he was sure. “Just leave everything and I'll take care of the dishes later. I'm planning on eating this just as soon as I get Janie calmed down. She's had a big day—she's overtired. I'll give her a bath, we'll talk, and she'll be fine.”

“I'll put the food away while you're up with Janie, but I'll leave your plate.”

He knew Erin and that tilt of her chin well enough to know nothing he could say would change her stubborn mind. “Okay.” He leaned over to give her a kiss before he realized what he was doing.

Erin's eyes widened and her lips parted.

Then it hit him that he had no business kissing her and he pulled back. “Thanks for dinner. What I tasted was incredible.”

He didn't know if the look she wore was disappointment or relief. Maybe a mix of both. Unfortunately, he didn't have much time to think about it. He had a little girl waiting for him upstairs, and he had to somehow explain to her that her daddy didn't want Erin for a nanny; he wanted Erin for a girlfriend. Erin couldn't be both.

***

Erin scheduled a full day of interviews and had even called Cam's dad and made sure he could take Janie for the day. Frustration bubbled beneath her breastbone. With every interview, that frustration turned into anger. She showed the ninth interviewee—the fifth and last of the day—to the door, thanked her for coming, and stomped back to the office to confront Cam. “Well?”

Cam looked from the desk chair he filled and shook his head. “No.”

“No?” She placed her hands on her hips to keep from strangling him. “That's all I'm going to get?”

He rolled a pencil between each digit of his hand, over one finger, under the next. It was driving her nuts. “
No
doesn't cover it? What is it you want?”

She wanted to smack him upside the head and tell him to snap out of whatever funk he was in. “I want you to make a decision. We've interviewed nine perfectly good applicants, seven of which I'd hire on the spot. Two of those even have medical experience, not that I think Janie needs it, but they're available if you want it. There was nothing wrong with any of those women.” Except for the two who looked at Cam like they wanted to eat him for dessert; she'd taken them right off the list. She wanted someone more interested in Janie than in Cam. “What do you want?”

Cam looked her up and down. After the last day of interviews, Erin put a little more thought into her outfit. She'd never make the mistake of interviewing possible nannies wearing a sweatshirt and yoga pants again. She'd pulled on a soft black wool V-neck sweater dress—professional, comfortable, and just tight enough to be sexy.

Cam's gaze traveled from her new heels to her cleavage and locked in for what seemed like a very long minute before looking her in the eye. “I'll know it when I see it; I haven't seen it yet.”

“No?” She tamped down the feelings his once-over always invoked in her. Instead she focused on the anger boiling over the surface of the latent sexual excitement that always simmered whenever she was in the vicinity of Cameron O'Leary. The last two and a half weeks had been a real test of her intestinal fortitude. Damn him. Only Cam could make her horny and angry at the same time.

She turned to pace the small room. “
No
is all you have to say?” She hit the wall and headed back to him, stopping just a hairsbreadth away from being threatening. It helped that he was seated. “Well, thanks, that explains so much.” She crossed her arms and tapped the toe of her pump. “Has it occurred to you that I'm only contracted to work another five days? I'm supposed to be training whoever you hire, remember?”

Cam stood, took a step forward, popping her personal space bubble, and looked down his nose at her. “Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot.”

He'd just crossed the line. She stepped forward, rose to her toes, and got in his face. “If you don't want to be talked to like an idiot”—she poked his chest with every word—“stop acting like one!” She shoved him hard. The brute didn't even sway. “I have done everything you've asked of me. I vetted thirty resumes, checked every one of their references, set up nine interviews, and all you can say is
no
. No reasonable explanation, no nothing. You won't even tell me what the hell it is you think you want.”

“I know what I want and they're not it.” The vein in his temple throbbed and heat radiated off him like a freakin' furnace.

“If you know what you want, why don't you tell me and then we can go from there.”

“Fine, I want you, dammit. I want you.”

She landed on her heels, took a step back, and tried to get her balance—both physical and mental. “Oh right, like I believe that.”

“It's the truth.”

“That's why your first reaction to the news that Mrs. Truman wasn't coming back was to ask for my help in hiring my replacement. You never offered me the job—not that I'd take it, but still, you never even asked.”

“I—”

She poked him again. “If you think you can make me stay because you refuse to hire eminently qualified candidates, you've got another thing coming. When my contract is up, I'll be out of here so fast, I'll leave skid marks.”

Cam grabbed her poking hand in his big paw, caught the other as it neared his chest to take over poking duties, and brought both of them behind her back, which only tugged her body flush against his.

“What are you doing?”

Cam nearly groaned when Erin's body met his. “My chest can only take so many direct hits. It hurts.”