Page 154 of Nine Week Nanny

Nothing about Pope Carrigan has ever been casual.

I slip into my coat, grab my keys, and take one last look at my apartment. The safety of my carefully constructed new life seems to shrink behind me as I step toward the door.

I grab my bike and head towards King Street.

I know I'm heading straight toward danger. I know this could shatter everything I've rebuilt.

I know, and I'm going anyway.

I spothim immediately on the rooftop bar of Hotel Bennett.

Even among Charleston's well-heeled weekend crowd, Pope stands out. He's broad-shouldered, jacket draped over his chair, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned, perfectly strong and veiny forearms.

Two glasses already wait on the table. One is clear and sparkling with lime, and one is amber. He hasn't seen me yet.

My heart hammers so hard I wonder if the couple beside me can hear it. I could still turn around. Walk back to the elevator. Pretend I never suggested this.

Then his eyes find mine across the sea of tables, and the choice evaporates.

He stands as I approach, his gaze holding me with unnerving intensity. The city skyline spreads behind him, but it's Pope who takes my breath away.

"You came," he says simply.

I sink into the chair opposite him, half wanting to bolt, half unable to move under the weight of his eyes.

"I said I would." My voice sounds steadier than I am currently.

He pushes the wine toward me. "I ordered a bottle of La Crema for you."

"You remembered." I take a small sip, welcoming the burn. "How's Lennon?"

Pope's face softens. "He's good. I just talked to him. He's taken up a new hobby: teaching my mom's parrot to talk in Spanish."

"That's so cute. He loves animals."

"He does. Someone at this table helped foster that as a way to help him heal. And that person isn't me."

The honesty catches me off guard. I study him, the tightness in his knuckles around his glass of sparkling water, the careful way he's holding himself.

"I just followed his lead," I challenge.

"That's what makes you so special." His voice drops.

"Are you nervous at all about the adoption? That's a big change in a short amount of time, to go from bachelor to a temporary guardianship, to deciding to adopt him forever."

"I'm terrified. But Warren has been amazing. He handles the hard stuff.”

My heart stops and then jumps into my throat. The glass nearly slips in my damp hand, and I set it down before I drop it.

“Did you say Warren?”

“Yeah. Warren Carter. He’s my family law attorney who has been with me since Chris showed up and challenged my temporary guardianship. He is the one who convinced me that adopting Lennon was best for him.”

How did I miss this? Warren Carter, the attorney I met at the bar that night with Angela, the one I flirted with, is Pope’s attorney. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

My mouth is dry, and I don’t have words as my brain tries to make sense of these two worlds colliding. I swallow hard, but it does nothing to ease the tight knot in my throat.

“Are you okay, Sloane? Your face is looking a little pale.”