Page 25 of Filthy Rich Temptation

So much for contained.

Her tiny fist shoots skyward, narrowly missing Sadie’s chin but clipping her sunglasses and sending her reeling. The boat lurches. Lottie teeters forward like a pint-sized sailor three sheets to the wind?—

‘Whoa. Easy there, Blackbeard!’

I lunge – one hand grabbing the straps of Lottie’s life vest, the other flying out to steady Sadie before she hits the deck, or worse, the lake. The oars jam into my chest and thighs, and for one breathless second, we’re a human knot of limbs, chaos, and very questionable nautical safety.

I hold us still as the boat rocks and groans back to steady.

‘We good?’ I ask, looking up.

Sadie lets out a breathless laugh, her sunglasses now tangled in her hair. ‘That was almost the shortest voyage in history.’

Then she looks down.

To where my hand is still very much on her thigh, just beneath the frayed edge of her denim shorts.

Time stops. My pulse doesn’t.

Heat rockets up my spine, awareness crackling through me. I release her like she’s radioactive and drop back into my seat. My heart’s hammering. From the near-capsize? Or the soft, sun-warmed skin I can still feel on my palm?

No idea.Liar. And I need more deflection and distraction.Fast.

I grip the oars with one hand and scoop Lottie into my lap with the other.

‘Less jumping, more pirating, kiddo.’

And like the medal winner she is, she scrabbles for the oars with all the subtlety of a caffeinated squirrel. Distraction, personified. God love her.

I guide her small hands around the wood and lock mine beside hers.

‘All right, Pirate Princess. Slow and steady wins the race. Eyes sharp for the treasure!’

I’m in full storytelling mode, which is great, because Sadie reaches behind her head to retie her hair and my brain flatlines.

Her pink tee rides up just enough to flash a sliver of midriff, and its cheerful slogan stretches right across her chest:Sun’s Out, Fun’s Out.

I swallow.Yeah, it is.

I try not to stare and fail heroically.

Another note to self: next time, insisteveryonewears a life vest. For safetyandsanity.

Then – slap! – Lottie’s hands smack mine. ‘Faster, Uncle Feo! Faaaaster!’ She twists to glare up at me, her frown as serious as only a three-year-old can be. ‘We need to find the treasure!’

I clear my throat and adjust course. ‘Aye aye, Captain–Princess–Pirate!’

Sadie glances over, eyes hidden behind her shades again, but I bet they’re full of silent laughter. Her lips certainly are.

‘I just hope the treasure’s worth the whiplash.’

‘Oh, I’ve got a feeling it might be,’ I murmur, doing my damnedest not to look at the curvy-cotton culprit, though that vision’s seared into my retinas anyway.

Go to the park, I said. It’ll be fun, I said.

Forget a life vest – I need an ejector seat and a lobotomy.

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