Page 60 of Nine Week Nanny

I shouldn’t want this. Not with him. Not here. But reason has nothing on the pull of his body near mine.

One heartbeat. Two. His eyes catch mine, steady and unguarded.

Then his hand finds the small of my back. A shiver shoots straight through me.

That touch says everything we can’t.

My answering gasp is everything he needs.

His mouth crashes onto mine, hard and demanding. I grab his shirt, pulling him closer as he falls into me on the floor. There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue and pent-up want.

It's almost like it's the kiss that was supposed to happen last night, but was cut short.

We break apart, breathing hard. His eyes are dark, questioning. Suddenly, I'm kicking myself for going there with him. I should stop.

Instead, I put my hand on the back of his neck and pull him to me, kissing him again. He lifts me, three quick steps until my back hits the wall. His body presses against mine, solid and warm as his hands slide under my shirt.

Like muscle memory, I immediately remember the feel and weight of him on me. I hook one leg around the back of his thighs and draw him closer.

His teeth graze my neck, and I gasp, threading my fingers through his hair and tugging.

A sharp ringtone cuts through the room. Pope freezes against me, his breath hot on my skin.

The phone rings again.

I untangle myself, straightening my shirt with shaking hands. "You should get that."

Pope's eyes stay locked on mine, something wild still lurking there. "Sloane?—"

"I need to pick this up and go get Lennon." I gesture at the scattered cards, my voice steadier than my legs feel.

I don't look back as I slip from the room, my lips still burning from his kiss.

SIXTEEN

Pope

The air conditioning bites through my suit jacket as I follow Warren Carter into his office. After the soupy Palm Beach heat outside, the chill is jarring, not at all unlike this entire situation.

"Take a seat, Mr. Carrigan." He gestures to the chair across from his glass desk. No small talk, no coffee offered, which I appreciate.

I settle into the leather chair, already liking Vic's recommendation. Warren's tailored black suit and strong jaw signal exactly the kind of no-bullshit approach I need.

"Please, call me Pope."

“Alright, Pope.” He flips open a folder. “I’ve reviewed the preliminary paperwork, so let me make sure we’re on the same page. You’re currently serving as Lennon’s temporary guardian. The arrangement was meant to last until Camila Reyes finalized her divorce and secured housing big enough for her, her two children, and Lennon. She figured about nine weeks. Once she’s ready, she intends to petition the court to adopt him.”

"That's correct."

His gaze sharpens. “That would have been a fine idea until Chris, Lennon's biological father, decided to step in."

“Yeah. The court already named me temporary guardian, so he’s been with me a little over two weeks now. That’s what I was told. The plan was to hold steady until Camila was ready. She just needed time to get settled so she could give him a stable home.”

"Exactly. But now that we have a third party involved, and he’s petitioned for custody, the court has to weigh him as the biological father. That automatically shifts the landscape.”

"Fantastic. So what does that mean?"

"It means that Chris is asking the court to end your temporary guardianship and name him sole legal guardian. To fight that, you’ll need to show not just why Lennon is better off with you right now, but also that your temporary role leads to a stable, permanent plan. Judges don’t like uncertainty."