So Far Away (California Dreamers #2) (7 page)

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” he urges. “I’m very impressed. And I’m not that easy to impress.”

We both stare at each other for a long moment.

“I wanted to ask you a question.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“How would you feel about me using the pool?”

It’s literally right outside the door of the guesthouse and I’d really love to take a dip. I just hope I haven’t overstepped my bounds by asking him if I can use it.

He waves away my concern like a gnat. “I should have mentioned that. Help yourself. I don’t use it, so somebody might as well enjoy it.”

“You don’t swim?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. Why would someone buy a house with a gorgeous pool if he doesn’t swim?

He laughs. “Try buying a house with an oceanfront view without a pool. They don’t exist. My wife had to live by the ocean, so we got a pool with the view.”

I nod. “I love to swim. I was born and raised in California, so I guess it comes with the territory.”

“Use it all you want,” he tells me.

We both look out the window at the same time.

“You’d better get down there if you want to catch the last of the daylight.” He glances at his watch. “It’s already past six o’clock. Earl usually works from nine to six, when she’s here. I know she told me when she was coming back, but I can’t remember what she said. I forgot it was Spring break. Maybe she’s spending the break with her granddaughter.”

“Thank you,” I tell him. “For everything.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You’ve already done more than my last three assistants combined.”

Once he disappears down the hallway I hurry out of the office and down the hallway in the opposite direction.

I look around to make sure Knox is nowhere in sight before I open the back slider and slip outside.

I practically run back to the guesthouse and quickly change out of my clothes and into my bikini.

It gets chilly as the sun goes down so I throw on an oversized sweatshirt over my swimsuit then slip on some flip flops.

I grab a large towel and head out to the pool.

Shit.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice Emerson in swim trunks and a t-shirt heading from the main house right for the pool.

I think about turning right back around before he notices me, but I’m not quick enough. He waves in my direction.

Now what
?

I was hoping to relax and have some time to myself.

His words start to echo in my head again:
You know I’m not a fan of vanilla
.

“You don’t look so thrilled to see me,” he observes.

I realize I’m scowling. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I swim every night. It’s great exercise.”

“Maybe I should go.” As I turn to leave he puts his hand on my arm. My entire body heats with his touch. 

I pull away from him. “I didn’t think you were a fan of vanilla.”

His mouth opens and closes a few times, but no words come out.

“I’m not
vanilla
,” I spit.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Even though he sounds sincere I’m still angry at him.

“But you still think I’m vanilla, whatever that means.”

He rubs his chin. “You’re not the type of girl I’m usually attracted to.”

“And why is that?” I challenge.

He gulps. “I usually go for girls with more style and soul.”

My eyebrows lift so high I can feel them practically reach my hairline. “You think I lack style and soul? Seriously?”

He nods.

“Like you’re the type of guy I’m attracted to,” I fire back.

“Let me guess. Every guy you’ve ever dated was a blond with a surf board.”

“Not true,” I shoot right back.

“I’m not buying it.”

“I dated guys at Yale who didn’t surf.” Admittedly I’ve never dated anyone who wasn’t blond, but he doesn’t have to know that. 

“So we’re not each other’s type,” he throws back at me.

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”

When our eyes meet every part of my body gets shivery. Why is that happening if we’re not each other’s type?

I decide to ignore him and go about my business. Jackson said I could use his pool and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

I remove my sweatshirt and toss it on to the lounge chair next to me.

Emerson’s jaw drops when he sees me in my bikini. Not his type my ass. He’s practically drooling.

I ignore him and dive into the pool.

He practically rips his t-shirt off, tosses it onto the lounge chair with my sweatshirt and jumps into the pool right next to me.

Luckily the pool is heated so it’s not the least bit chilly. Although the heat that is being generated between us right now may be enough to melt ice.

Emerson can’t seem to take his eyes off of me.   

“You don’t think my swimsuit lacks style?” I tease.

He shakes his head.

“I’m not soulless,” I tell him.

He doesn’t reply. He just continues looking into my eyes. Is he trying to see if I really do have a soul somewhere deep inside of me? That’s what it feels like.

“What kind of music do you like?” I ask him. I always thought you could tell a lot about people by the music they listen to.

“I’m kind of old school. I listen to jazz mostly.”

“Me too.”

His eyes narrow like he doesn’t believe me. “Who are some of your favorite artists?”

“Nora Jones. Madeleine Peyroux. Melody Gardot. Dianna Krall.”

He nods. “Okay. I like where you’re headed. What about Billie Holiday and Nina Simone? Bessie Smith, Etta James, Shirley Horn?”

“Edith Piaf?”

He grins. “
Parlez-vous français
?”

“
Oui
.”

“
J'ai pris quelques cours de français au Lycée
.”

“
J'ai étudié le français à l'université
.”

He closes the small distance between us. I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“I’m a physicist, not a chemist, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say there’s definitely some chemistry between us.”

“Some?” I mutter.

“A lot,” he corrects.

“What now?” My eyes search his.

My heart starts to beat wildly as he moves his mouth towards mine.

When our lips touch it’s like a little jolt of lightening. I’ve never felt anything like it before. It takes my breath away completely.

My lips are still buzzing when he opens his eyes and looks at me.

For a few moments I feel like I’m lost in a fog. Then I remember I just kissed Emerson.

My boss’s son
.

I did exactly what I was instructed not to do.

Shitballs
!

I paddle as far away from Emerson as possible.

“Was the kiss that bad?” he asks.

“No, it was amazing. That’s the problem.”

“I don’t understand.” He sounds as confused as I feel right now.

I paddle back over to him. “Your dad is my boss,” I remind him. “No hanky-panky. Remember?”

He frowns. “It was just a kiss.”

“You’re okay with just one kiss?” I raise an eyebrow. “Someone waves a candy bar in your face and you’re okay with taking one tiny bite and throwing the rest away because you’re not allowed to eat it? Even if it’s the best chocolate you’ve ever had in your life?”

“I’m the best
chocolate
you’ve ever had?” he teases.

I shake my head. “I wasn’t even thinking about you being black. I was just trying to make a point about the kiss being fantastic and I just happen to adore chocolate.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“And you called me vanilla first,” I point out.

“Not because you’re white,” he clarifies. “Because I thought you were a little generic.”

I glare at him. “And do you still think I’m generic?”

He grabs me and pulls me close. “Not at all.”

He kisses me again. This time his tongue roams my mouth and every part of my body is awakened.

I’ve only had sex once since I’ve been back in California, and it was a huge mistake. I hooked up with a guy I knew from high school at a small reunion at a mutual friend’s house. After that I was so focused on getting a job that I sort of went into sexual hibernation.

Now my body seems to want to make up for all of the lost time. 

As much as my body might want to be with Emerson I can’t have my sexual reawakening with him.

I place my hand on his chest and push him away. “I can’t do this. I need this job. I really can’t afford to get fired.”

“I’m sorry.” He bites his bottom lip. He actually looks pained.

I don’t feel so great about the situation either. 

“It took me a really long time to get this job, and I just started. I don’t want to lose it. I’ll never be able to work again.”

He furrows his brow. “You have two Master’s degrees. From Yale I might add. You should be able to find another job.”

“Not anywhere near LA. My degrees are in Literature and Humanities. That really doesn’t qualify me to do very much. I could teach at a college, but only as an adjunct because I don’t have a doctorate. That doesn’t pay enough for me to support myself. The only two things I’ve been able to do are work as a nanny or as a personal assistant. I’ve already been fired from my first and only nanny job. And it’s not like many people were willing to hire me after that.”

“Why do you have to put it on your resume?” he asks.

“I guess you don’t watch the news.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been working on my dissertation for the last year and a half. I’m in the lab seven days a week nearly twenty-four hours a day. I don’t have much time for anything else.” He tilts his head and looks into my eyes. “What does the news have to do with you anyway?”

“When you have a chance do an online search for
Naughty Nanny
. I worked for Dannabelle.”

The moniker doesn’t seem to make an impression on him.

“You don’t watch movies?” I ask.

“I watch movies. Mostly science fiction. I couldn’t tell you who any of the actors are though.”

“Daniel Robinson and Annabelle Miller. They were a Hollywood power couple. He’s one of the post popular actors in movies right now and she’s America’s sweetheart. She accused me of having an affair with her husband, which I did not. I think he might be gay, which is beside the point anyway. She used me as a scapegoat so she’d have an excuse to divorce her husband and not look like the bad girl. I got to play that role. The scandal made national headlines and my photo with the title
Naughty Nanny
was plastered everywhere for months. When I’m in LA the paparazzi still follow me. The point is that every time I went for a job interview and the person doing the interview figured out why they recognized me I was quickly dismissed. No one wants to hire
the whore
who broke up Dannabelle. I was very lucky that your dad gave me a chance and I don’t want to blow it.”

He nods. “I understand. I’m not going to lie and say that I like it, but I definitely get it.”

“Good.”

We both stare at each other for a long moment. Unfortunately my attraction to Emerson is only getting stronger. If I stay anywhere near him I’m not sure I’ll be able to resist the so-called
forbidden fruit
any longer.

“I’d better go,” I tell him. “It’s getting dark anyway.”

As if on cue all of the lights inside of the pool turn on illuminating the water around us. It’s absolutely stunning.

“Did you do that?” I ask, even though it seems unlikely. We’re both in the middle of the pool.

“They come on automatically,” he replies. “Good timing though.”

“I’ve still got to go,” I tell him.

“I know.”

I make no motion to get out of the pool. I’m not sure what’s stopping me.

Nothing can happen between us, but it’s like part of me still wants it to. Getting fired because of Nannygate wasn’t my fault, but if I fooled around with Emerson and lost my job because of it I would be completely responsible.

“I’m leaving now.”
Am I trying to convince myself?

“I can see that.” He grins.

He paddles over to me. “One last, last kiss.”

When he puts his mouth on mine I’m completely undone. Then he puts his arms around me and pulls me close. I melt into him.

There isn’t much material between us. Just two swimsuits. I can feel him getting hard as he presses his body against mine.

And I’m so turned on it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to go any further. It would be so easy for us to slip out of our suits and for him to slip inside of me.