Page 4 of Filthy Rich Temptation

Cocky-hot is one thing. Oblivious-hot is a whole new level of dangerous.

And he’s been like this for as long as I can remember. Hot. Unattainable. Taylor’s best friend, which means I’ve been relegated to ‘baby sister’ since forever… the hanger-on, the one you put up with but don’t really notice. Though I forced him to notice me –reallynotice me – seven years ago.

The most embarrassing moment of my life…

I bet he doesn’t even remember it, while I wish I could forget. The way my lips bumbled up against his, the heat of him kissing me back, then the searing shame as he leapt away like his life depended on it.

Hell, maybe it did. I certainly died a death that day, and so did the bond I thought we’d built after his dad passed away.

I was the shoulder he cried on. The one person he could be real with. He didn’t have to be Theo Tanner: the strong, dependable one. The trader people trusted with their hard-earned cash. The loving son holding it together for his mother. The best friend with all the answers. He was just Theo. The man.

And I loved him for it. More fool me.

Like I said, bad decisions, bad examples – they’re my forte. And they all have one thing in common: men.

First Theo, then Danny.

Though saying their names in the same breath feels wrong on every level.

My ex was an abusive prick. Theo… well, Theo just knew better than to want me.

And I should know better than to want him now. Which Ido.Honest.

He takes another hoop from Lottie, who’s now doing her favourite ‘one for you, one for me’ and I give a flustered laugh. ‘You want some milk with those?’

‘Nah.’ He grins. ‘Coffee is perfect.’

‘I want coffee!’ Lottie declares and Theo chuckles, the sound as invigorating as his hum. More so as his eyes light on mine in question. Does he seriously think I’m about to feed my toddlercoffee?

Better than him thinking you’re ogling the boxers off him!

‘I think you already have enough beans in you, kiddo,’ he says.

Lottie wrinkles her nose. ‘I don’t have beans.’

‘You do have juice, though,’ I say, hunting out the carton I gave her earlier and finding it, complete with juicy puddle on his fancy kitchen floor.

Balls. I swear this place was spotless not ten minutes ago. I made it so. Every surface wiped back to glossy perfection. Every stretch of varnished floor gleaming. Sofa cushions, plumped. Filter coffee set to go.

Then I suggested a nappy change and all hell broke loose. Or rather,Lottiedid.

We started potty training back in Ireland, but with the chaos of the past few weeks, it’s fallen by the wayside. Now she’s out of routine and proudly refusing to wear pull-ups, like she’s outgrown them entirely.

Which would be great… if I wasn’t watching her climb all over his terrifyingly expensive designer sofa with the bladder control of a fruit fly and a glint of rebellion in her eye.

I thrust the carton at her and reach for the cloth at the sink just as Theo moves to refill his coffee, and bam! We collide. Chest to chest. Or, more accurately, my forehead to his bare chest.Holy smoking…

Lottie gives a timely, ‘Uh-oh!’

‘I’m so sorry!’ I blurt, jolting back so fast, I slide on the spilled juice and would have perfected the splits if not for Theo’s arm shooting around me. He pulls me up against him, saving both me and his coffee that I almost upend in the process.

‘You good?’ He growls it out, his green eyes as hot as his body pressing into mine.

‘Yup.’ It’s virtually a squeak. Because I’m not. Not even a little.

Not when every bit of me is on high alert, humming like I’ve licked a battery and his mouth is so close, all I can think about is lickingit. Which would make my seven-year-old mistake look like a PG blunder.

‘Great!’ He drops me like a hot potato, which is pretty much how I feel, and goes back to pouring his coffee. Staring at the rich, dark liquid like it holds the answer to his biggest problem. Which, let’s be honest, is us.