Page 72 of Filthy Rich Temptation

He does a double take, and I grin.

He shakes his head, muttering something about my sister, I think. I can’t be sure. I’m too distracted by his hand, still closed around mine, guiding me down the hall. And I instantly miss it the moment he lets go.

He grabs a glass from the kitchen cupboard, and I tear my gaze from shamelessly ogling his behind to take in the room.

Wowzers.The place is spotless. Like, seriously spotless.

Lottie’s toys are stacked neatly in bins along the wall. Her books are arranged in a perfect little row on the coffee table. Her colouring paraphernalia is laid out on the kitchen island like a miniature artist’s studio.

There’s not a single speck of glitter in sight.

Nowthat’sa miracle.

‘I can’t believe how tidy it is in here,’ I say as he presses the glass – now filled with water – into my hand, steadying it with both of his. Double the treat. ‘You put me to shame.’

‘I had help.’

‘Help?’

He backs away, more’s the pity. And leans against the counter, arms folded, eyes watchful. Like he’s unsure whether I’m going to faceplant or pounce.

And I’m not sure which he’d prefer, but I know which one I’d choose.

‘My mother came.’

I snap to attention. ‘Yourmother? Did she… did she know we were here?’

‘She does now.’

‘Oh…’ I swallow, already picturing the drama. She was always one to wear her heart on her sleeve. Kind of like someone else I know. Lil’ ol’ me.

It’s probably one of the reasons we got on so well.

‘How did she take it?’

A smile tugs at his mouth. ‘Let’s just say, she took great delight in watching Lottie run me ragged.’

‘Oh God,’ I groan. ‘Was she a handful?’

‘No more than usual,’ he says, the obvious fondness in his eyes making my heart melt with my undies. ‘Less trouble than my mother at any rate.’

I laugh softly. ‘I wish I’d been here to see her.’

‘She was sorry to miss you too.’

I sip my water. ‘We’ll have to organise something.’

‘She’d like that.’

‘How was Lottie with her?’

‘They hit it off straight away.’

‘Like mother, like son, hey?’

His smile builds, drawing my eye to the fullness of his lower lip, the well-defined cupid’s bow to the top, the dark shadow of tantalising stubble shifting with the gesture…

And his smile isn’t the only thing building. That dull, pulsing ache is back, stronger than ever. We might betalkingabout parents, tidiness, and toddlers, but my body’s carrying on an entirely different conversation.