Triple Trouble (14 page)

“Doesn’t matter. Even if I was the type to consider marriage, Charlene is too young for me—and way too smart.”

“I get the age difference thing, although I don’t agree with it. But what do you mean, she’s too smart?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t asked her how many college degrees she has, but it wouldn’t matter. What she’s got doesn’t come with a degree.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She’s very intuitive—she knows a lot about people. I haven’t seen anyone yet that doesn’t love her at first sight, including my dog.” And that idiot ex-fiancé of hers, Nick thought. Despite Barry’s hostile attitude, Nick was sure he hadn’t misread the possessive vibes from Charlene’s ex-boyfriend.

“All the more reason to marry her.”

“I’m not getting married. I’m not serious about the nanny. Besides,” he continued,

“I’m her boss. She’s strictly off-limits as long as she’s working for me.” Nick refused to consider the possibility of keeping Charlene in his life permanently. But thinking about how much he wanted her only drove him crazy with frustration.

“Sounds to me like you’re blowing smoke,” J.R. said. “Who are you trying to convince? Me? Or you.”

“Let’s change the subject. What’s new with you?”

“I’m actually planning a trip to Red Rock—not sure when, but fairly soon. I’m thinking of making a few changes in my life, and since you and Darr like Texas so much, I thought I’d check it out.”

“Damn, that’s great news. Have you told Darr?”

“No, I haven’t been able to reach him, remember?”

“Well, keep trying. If I see him, I’ll tell him to call you. It would be great to have you living here.”

“No promises,” J.R. said. “I’ll let you know when I have a firm date to visit. I want to meet your nanny—see if she really is anything like Mom. If you’re really not interested, maybe I will be.”

Nick ground his teeth but let the comment pass. Arguing with J.R. would only convince him that Nick was serious about Charlene.

And I’m not. Not even close.

Some small portion of his brain whispered that he was suffering from serious denial, but Nick refused to listen.

With both Charlene and Nick determined to keep their relationship strictly platonic and each other at arm’s length, the next few days went by uneventfully. They focused on the girls while they were awake and retreated to their own rooms when the babies napped or went to sleep in the evening. Since the triplets were now consistently sleeping through the night, there were no more middle-of-the-night encounters in the babies’ room.

On Thursday morning, Charlene woke early. It was still dark outside her window, the eastern sky only faintly beginning to brighten with dawn. Unable to fall back to sleep, she tossed and turned for another half hour before throwing back the covers and rising to take a quick shower, dress and apply light makeup. Moving quietly into the hall, she eased open the door to the triplets’ room and peeked inside to find the three sleeping soundly. Certain she had an hour or two of uninterrupted quiet before the girls woke and her day began in earnest, she tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

She halted abruptly just inside the doorway.

The rich smell of brewing coffee filled the room, lit only by the small light over the stove. Nick stood next to the coffeemaker, his hips leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over his bare chest. Faded Levis covered his long legs, his feet bare on the tile floor. The muscled width of his chest was smooth, with only a narrow strip of black hair that started at his belly button and arrowed downward, disappearing beneath the low-slung waistband of his jeans. His shoulders and biceps, chest and abs were California tanned, padded with toned muscles that shifted and flexed when he moved.

He looked up and saw her. His eyelids lowered, shielding his eyes behind the thick screen of black lashes and making it impossible for her to read his expression.

“Morning.” His voice was rusty, gravelly with sleep. His dark hair was tousled and damp, as if he’d rubbed it dry with a towel after his morning shower, then ran his fingers through it before heading for the kitchen and caffeine.

“Good morning.” Charlene forced her feet to move. She crossed to the island and turned on her laptop. “You’re up early.”

“I have a meeting in San Antonio this morning.” He yawned, dragging his hand over his eyes. “Thought I’d get an early start.” He nodded at the coffeemaker. “Coffee should be done soon.”

“Great.” Charlene walked to the counter and opened an upper cabinet. She took down two pottery mugs and paused, glancing over her shoulder at Nick. “Do you want your travel mug?”

“Sure.”

The metal mug with the UCLA logo Nick carried to work each morning was on the top shelf. She stretched, going up on tiptoe, but the mug was just beyond her fingertips. “I need a ladder,” she murmured, trying to stretch another half inch.

“Here, I’ll get it.”

Before Charlene could step back and out of his way, Nick was behind her, bracketing her between his body and the countertop when he reached above her. She was surrounded by him. The scent of clean soap and the faint tang of his aftershave enveloped her while the warmth of his body narrowed the brief distance between them even more. He leaned forward slightly as he picked up the mug and his bare chest brushed her shoulderblades.

Her breath caught in a faint, audible gasp, and she froze, immobilized as she struggled to deal with an overload of emotions.

Nick heard the quick intake of breath, felt the swift, slight press of her shoulders against his chest as she inhaled. He fought the fierce urge to claim and possess, his muscles locking with the effort. But then her rigidly held body eased slightly against his and his control slipped a notch.

He set the mug down and planted his palms on the countertop, bracketing her between his arms. The faint scent of flowers teased his nostrils and he bent his head until his lips nearly touched her hair, closing his eyes as he breathed in the smell of shampoo and warm woman.

She turned, her shoulder brushing against his chest, faced him, her back to the counter. Her green eyes were dark with awareness when her gaze met his, the curve of her mouth vulnerable. A spray of small freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and the arch of her cheekbones, golden against her fair skin. Nick clenched his fists against the counter, muscles bunching in his biceps as he fought to keep from touching her. A lock of hair slipped out of the narrow clip holding it away from her face. Tempted beyond reason, Nick lost his battle and gently brushed the strand away from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Her skin was as soft and silky as the bright threads of hair. Lured by the warmth under his hand, he traced his fingertips over the tiny freckles on her cheekbones then followed the smooth curve of her jawline. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat and he tested the fast beat with the pad of his thumb, his fingers and palm cupping the curve where shoulder met throat.

His gaze flicked up, met hers. Her green eyes were nearly black, a faint flush heating her throat and coloring her cheeks. Her lips were fuller, slightly parted, her breathing quicker.

The moment spun out, tension thickening the air between them.

“Tell me to step away,” he rasped, his voice rougher, deeper than normal.

“I can’t,” she murmured.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to.”

“We shouldn’t do this.” His thumb stroked slowly, compulsively over the fast pound of her pulse point.

She lifted her hands and laid them, palms down, on his chest. Her fingers flexed and he groaned, his fingers tightening reflexively on her shoulder. Her gaze fastened on his mouth and she slid her arms higher around his neck, going up on tiptoe, her body lying flush against his.

Nick lost the struggle. He bent his head, meeting her halfway as her lips sought his. Determined not to lose control, he pressed his fists against the countertop, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her and press her close. Equally determined not to give in to the raging need to devour her mouth, he brushed her lips with his, refusing to deepen the contact when she opened her mouth under his and licked his lower lip.

“You taste like honey and mint,” he muttered against her mouth, changing the angle to taste the corner of her mouth. Primal satisfaction seared through him when she gasped and pressed closer.

“Stop teasing and kiss me,” she demanded, frustration in her voice. She cupped the back of his head in her palms and refused to let him move away as she crushed her lips against his with pent-up desire.

Nick lost the ability to reason. He wrapped his arms around her and pinned her between his body and the counter behind her. Their mouths fused in a heated exchange.

On some distant level, he knew he had to stop this—stop them—before he lifted her onto the counter and slipped off her clothes. He reached for control, struggled to bring them back from the precipice, until at last their breathing slowed. He took his mouth from hers, her lips clinging in protest, and rested his forehead against hers while his heartbeat continued to slam inside his chest and thunder in his ears. “You’re killing me,” he murmured.

She eased away from him, just far enough to look up and search his face. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve wanted this since I looked up and saw you walking down the plane aisle,” he told her.

“Really?” Her face glowed. “Me too.”

“Don’t tell me that.” He groaned when his body leaped in response. “I’m having enough trouble keeping my hands off you. And you’re off-limits. You work for me. I don’t kiss employees.”

“Then maybe I should quit.” The bemused smile she gave him held a hint of mischief.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he said grimly. “But for God’s sake, don’t. The girls need you.”

Her smile disappeared. Her thick lashes lowered, screening her eyes.

“Of course,” she said, her voice cooler, more distant. “For a moment I forgot the circumstances.”

She eased back, separating their bodies and putting a bare inch of space between them.

Somehow, Nick felt as if she’d moved across the room.

“I think I’ll take my coffee upstairs. I have a few things to do before the girls wake up.”

He wanted to drag her back into his arms and kiss her until the cool remoteness dissolved under heat and she was once again pliant and eager. But he knew it was far better that she’d put distance between them. He’d reached the limits of his control. If he spent much longer with her in his arms, he doubted whether he could make himself let her go.

“Right.” He shifted away from her, leaning his hips against the counter, arms crossed, while he waited for her to pour her coffee and leave the room. She didn’t look back, her murmured goodbye and “have a good day” spoken over her shoulder, her face half-turned from him.

Then she was gone and he was alone in the kitchen.

He couldn’t be sorry he’d kissed her. But now that he knew what she felt like in his arms, what her mouth tasted like under his, he knew keeping their connection strictly employer-employee was going to be damned near impossible. Frowning blackly, his temper on edge, he filled his coffee mug and headed upstairs to finish dressing before heading for San Antonio.

Once safely in her bedroom, Charlene slumped against the wood panels and closed her eyes to blank out the light.

Stupid. That was so stupid, Charlene.

She never should have given in to the need to discover what it would be like to kiss Nick.

And it was mortifying to admit he would have walked away if she hadn’t turned to face him, hadn’t been the one to wrap her arms around his neck and instigate that kiss.

She nearly groaned with embarrassment. He was her boss. He’d said he didn’t kiss his employees.

And it’s against every principle I believe in to have an affair with my boss, she told herself. So why didn’t I stop?

She’d never been tempted to break her own rules before. What was it about Nick Fortune that blew all her good intentions to dust?

She pushed away from the door and crossed to the bathroom. Running cold water, she pressed a dampened washcloth to her still-flushed cheeks, lowering it after a moment to stare at herself in the mirror.

“Nick is off-limits,” she said to her reflection. “From now on, act as if this morning’s kiss never happened.”

Just how she was going to do that, she had no idea.

She hoped she was a better actress than she suspected, otherwise, Nick would know with one look that she was playing the role of disinterested woman. And nothing on earth could be further from the truth.

On Saturday evening, two days after their fateful encounter in the kitchen, Andrew Sanchez telephoned. Nick and Charlene were in the upstairs bathroom, taking turns bathing the triplets before tucking them into their pajamas.

Nick left Jackie and Jenny chortling, happily sitting naked atop their damp towels on the bathroom floor, and stepped into the hall just outside the bathroom, covering one ear with his palm as he talked.

When he hung up, Charlene knew by his solemn, faintly grim expression that something had happened. Despite her vow to keep their conversations to business issues only, concern compelled her into speech. “Is something wrong?”

“The attorney in Amarillo found Lana and her husband.”

“Oh.” Charlene stared at him, torn between relief and dread. “Are they all right?”

“Yes.”

“Where were they?”

“At the privately run clinic. The investigator used the information we found in the photo, flew to Africa and tracked her down. She’s been out of touch because a river flooded and cut off the clinic from contact with the outside world.”

“Are they on their way home?”

“Yes.”

“How long before they arrive?”

“Sanchez wasn’t sure—probably a few days, maybe a week, at most.”

Which meant their time with the triplets was growing short, Charlene realized. Her arms tightened unconsciously, protectively around Jessie’s chubby little body.

“I’m going to miss them,” she said, her voice husky with emotion.

“Yeah. Me too.” Nick’s eyes roiled with emotion.

Playing on the floor at his feet, Jackie grabbed a fistful of Nick’s jeans just below the knee and pulled herself to her knees. Nick broke eye contact with Charlene and went down on his haunches next to her. Jenny immediately crawled toward him too, babbling imperiously.