Page 29 of Undeniably Unexpected (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires #6)

L oomis has been strumming on his guitar and singing for the last half an hour.

I’ve noticed he does this especially when he’s got a lot on his mind, and right now, he’s bleeding from one song to the next with hardly a break.

Fen doesn’t mind. He likes it when his daddy sings, and he’s oblivious, adorable, and happy as always.

He and I have been building block towers, and then he cracks up when I knock them down and say, “Oh no.”

“Where did you learn to play and sing like that?” I ask, knocking our latest tower over. “Oh no!” On cue, Fen laughs and tries to rebuild it, so I’ll do it again.

“My father,” Loomis replies somewhat bitterly, though his fingers haven’t stilled on the strings or frets. “He used to play pubs on weekends for extra cash, though he’d end up drinking most of it away that same night.”

“He taught you to play? I mean, your voice is incredible, but I’m not sure something like that can be taught. I’m shocked you and Tinsley don’t sing more in your films or record something together.”

A hint of a grin tickles the corner of his full lips.

“When I was a lad, I had dreams about being a rock star. I’d imagine myself playing to sold-out venues and touring the world as Tinsley does.

Acting wasn’t my life’s goal or aspiration.

I started with it to spite my father since it was his and found I loved it.

Music soothes me, and I have no aptitude to write my own.

Maybe someday Tins and I will do a musical together. Who knows.”

“Can you play her songs?”

He smirks and shifts right into a Tinsley Monroe song that perks Fen’s ears.

“What about Taylor Swift?” I taunt.

That smirk grows into a cocky grin, and he transitions right into…

“Willow.” Holy shit. Loomis Powell is playing freaking Taylor Swift like a god, and he’s doing it all from memory.

No sheet music. It’s in his head. And then he practically impregnates me when he starts to sing it.

I’ve never had a rock star swoon moment, but yeah, he just got me wetter than if I fell in the pool.

“Any other requests?” he quips, and after that kiss and now this, my vagina is screaming, yes! Me!

“Nope. You’ve more than proven yourself.” I clear the wanton slut from my voice and completely change the topic. “Is it weird when you have love scenes with Tinsley? I’ve always wondered.”

He glances up, his eyes sparkling a bit where they had been flat and empty all morning.

It’s nice to see. “Yes and no. Love scenes are very scripted and rehearsed. Thankfully, Tinsley never gets naked in films. Even during some of our hotter scenes, she was always wearing something. When I kiss or touch her, we’re typically surrounded by at least a dozen set crew and the director.

Plus, I’ve never felt anything when I kissed her.

That’s not always the case, regardless of the massive audience, which is yet another reason why I love filming with Tinsley as much as I do. ”

“You’ve never felt anything with her? Not once?” I ask dubiously. Tinsley is nothing if not gorgeous, and I’ve seen some of their scenes. They are hot and full of passion.

“No. Never. She’s not my type in the least.” He gives me a slow once-over before he returns to his guitar. “I like my women a little older and with curves to spare.”

Naturally, my cheeks heat, and I swear, one of these days, I’m going to have corrective surgery for that.

Loomis starts playing and singing again, and I continue to play with Fen.

Per Loomis’s attorney, Child and Family Services doesn’t typically travel out of state to make house calls, which isn’t shocking.

Loomis’s case is special, and I know he’s reimbursing the state for the expenses.

I’ve had experiences with CFS before as a doctor. I’ve had newborns I’ve had to place calls on, which is heartbreaking and tragic. I know Loomis is nervous, and I understand why. But he’s not a danger to his son, and as of right now, no one is challenging him for custody of Fenric.

To me, this is a formality.

Still, I’m glad I’m here to help him through it.

Right now, he needs a friend.

The kissing the other morning rattled me until I realized he was proving a point and nothing more.

How many times has he told me he doesn’t do relationships and that he’s all wrong for me and blah, blah, blah?

I got the message the first time. He’s a bad boy, and I’m a good girl, and they don’t mix.

He wanted me to know he thinks I’m beautiful, and it’s nice to hear.

Alden used to tell me that too, despite what Loomis intimated.

Alden was never short on praise for me, and he was a great boyfriend.

But now that I’ve had some distance, I’ve come to realize something was missing, and that something was a spark.

It was chemistry and butterflies. It was, I want to tear your clothes off every second of every day .

Do I have that with Loomis? Yes. I can deny it and push it away, but I feel it burning in my belly every time he looks at me or smiles a certain way. And when the man walks around without a shirt? Yeah, we have it. Or at least I have it with him.

But my mother always taught me never to tie my self-esteem or sense of worth to a man, and I’m not about to start now. Especially with one who doesn’t believe in love or romance. I’ve settled for less than that before, and I won’t do it again just because he says I’m beautiful.

“You know,” he muses, not looking at me as he plays a complicated version of a Beatles song, “I’m going to have to touch you while they’re here today.” Now he glances up. “Perhaps kiss you again.”

And there it is. That spark. Those butterflies. It’s as if he’s reading my mind.

Before I can answer, we hear a boat out in the water drawing closer to the island, and we both still, our eyes locked. Nerves transform his mischievous expression, and I stand, lifting Fen and holding him close on my good side.

Loomis smirks at me. “Already a mama bear, eh?”

“They’re on our turf.”

“Is that a threat? Are you planning on throwing down?”

My lips twitch. “If I have to, yes. Isn’t that an American term?”

He’s smiling at me now, his fingers twirling the strands of my hair as he likes to do. “So fierce, my little mermaid. My attorney promised it’s just an initial meeting so they can feel me out, so I think it’ll be all right.”

“I know.” I blink at him. “I wasn’t nervous about it until now.”

“Funny, I’ve been nervous about it nonstop, but looking at you holding him like that, I know everything will be okay.” With his eyes locked on mine, he leans in and places a soft kiss on the corner of my lips before he switches to the other side in the exact same place. “For luck.”

A moment later there’s a light tapping on the door, and Loomis tenses, sucks in a deep breath, plasters on his Hollywood smile, and answers the door.

“Loomis Powell?” a stern-looking woman greets him. “I’m Jacinda Levi from Child and Family Services in Boston. This is my colleague, Austin Powers.”

I choke. On nothing. I expect Mike Myers to come in wearing some ridiculous ’60s getup with his chest hair showing and for him to say, “Yeah, baby,” in an exaggerated British accent.

No such luck. Instead, the dude is about seven foot a million, built like a truck, and you can tell he has no patience or sense of humor for Austin Powers jokes. Likely because he’s heard them all.

“Lovely to meet you both.” Loomis shakes their hands, exuding cautious charm. “Please, come in.”

Their discerning eyes cast about the room and land on me, and in that moment, a smile hits my lips like a tank.

I hadn’t recognized her name at first. But I know her face.

“Jacinda?!” I cross the room in six strides, Fen clinging to me and squealing since I’m moving fast—something the kid loves. “Oh my gosh! Hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but?—”

“Of course I remember you, Dr. Fritz. You were instrumental in the Baby James case.”

My breath hitches, thinking about him. “Do you know how he is?”

“I can’t speak on a child’s progress, but I hope my expression tells you what you want to know.

” She smiles, and my chest feels lighter for it.

Baby James was one of those cases, one of those patients you never forget.

His mom was addicted to all kinds of drugs, and when he was born, she tried to drug him to keep him from crying and having the doctors look at him further or take him from her.

I noticed it, saw her do it as a matter of fact, and alerted family services. The fact that Jacinda is here puts my heart at ease and Loomis is beaming at me in a way I’ve never seen before.

“This must be Fenric,” she says, coming closer and examining the baby in my arms. “Should we sit and chat for a while?” She turns back to Austin Powers and Loomis.

Two hours later, they leave, and not with Fenric in their arms. It was intense, and they didn’t mince words about how they didn’t like that Loomis hid Fen for so long or that he doesn’t have any legal information on him.

They asked a lot of questions about Fen’s care in the months from when he was discovered on his mother’s doorstep to now.

Loomis answered every question they asked, was earnest and heartfelt, and most of the time had his hand on me, either on my shoulder or squeezing my thigh where they couldn’t see it.

They asked how long Loomis and I have been together, which we couldn’t lie about since Loomis hadn’t been back in America long and I was with Alden before that.

It didn’t look great, but we went on to explain we were rekindling something that had been on and off over the years we’ve known each other—including when I went to LA—and that things were serious between us.

With that, they went on to ask a lot about what Fen’s daily care will be like when Loomis is working on set, and a lot of those Loomis couldn’t answer with certainty.

Still, I think they were satisfied enough with Fen’s care and said they’d follow up when we got back to Boston pending anything unexpected happening. By the time they leave, we’re all a mess. Fen starts to get fussy, rubbing his eyes and wiping his face back and forth on Loomis’s shoulder.

I follow Loomis upstairs, eager to talk about our intense last two hours. I don’t think my heart slowed down once. I’m shocked I didn’t have a stroke.

Loomis changes Fen’s diaper, tucks him into a onesie, and sets him in his crib.

Fen doesn’t even fight it. It’s as if he’s just as exhausted as we are.

He faceplants—as he always does—and Loomis takes my hand as we leave.

Within seconds, he’s dragging me down the hall to my room since it’s the farthest from Fen’s and shuts the door behind us.

Then he rounds on me, taking me by the shoulders and walking me backward toward the french doors, where he practically pins me.

“What did you do?”

“What?” My jaw goes slack, shocked by his reaction.

“You knew her? She loved you.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be her. I testified in a case when I was an intern for a newborn boy whose mother was drugging him. I worked with her for a couple of months on the case, but that was years ago. I’m shocked she even remembered me.”

“Except she did, and I think that made all the difference. They weren’t thrilled, but it didn’t sound like they were anxious to take Fen from me.”

“No, and I didn’t think they would be. Imagine the backlash that would cause them. You’re a very well-liked celebrity.” I pause, wondering if I should say anything or not. “You told them you loved me.”

He blinks at me. “I did… no. I didn’t.”

“You did.” I almost laugh at his horrified expression. “It worked on them.” I give him an indifferent shrug, though hearing him say it, even with knowing he didn’t mean it, still hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting. It was more of those damn butterflies and sparks igniting in my stomach.

“Fuck,” he hisses and turns away from me, his hands dragging like race cars through his hair.

“Fuck!” he bellows only to temper his voice because his son is sleeping just down the hall.

“I hadn’t…” He spins back around, his gray eyes wild.

“I hadn’t realized. I mean, they asked about our relationship, and I…

” He stops here, his hand on his jaw, half covering his mouth. “I said I love you.”

“I know. I was there,” I deadpan. “Whatever made you say it, they ate it up. Plus, I mean, Fen reached for you and snuggled right into you without any prompting. If that doesn’t melt hearts, I don’t know what would.”

But he’s not registering my words. He’s too busy staring at me as if he’s seeing the second coming of Jesus before his eyes. With a big step, he’s before me again, his hand on my cheek, holding me steady and my gaze up to his.

“Kissing you again would be the worst sort of mistake.”

My breath hitches, not having expected that as a response.

“Disastrous” drips like a siren’s song from mine.

I don’t even know where this breathy hussy comes from, but she’s running the show and picturing Loomis’s mouth back on us.

Even if my response is true. It would be disastrous.

Because it wouldn’t just be a kiss. It would be more, both physically and emotionally—the latter part only for me.

“That’s why we shouldn’t. You’re too good for me, and I’m all wrong for you.”

I roll my eyes. “So you like to remind me.”

His eyes search mine. “Are you sick of it then? Are you past my warnings?”

“I’m just saying I’ve already heard them all, and I’m not the good girl you think I am.

I can handle my own.” That’s a bit of a lie.

I mean, I’m not a total good girl. I write paranormal romance under a secret pen name.

But I don’t know if I can handle my own with him, and knowing that about myself, I should retreat, but I’m not sure I can make myself, even knowing the consequences.

“Oh, love.” His thumb drags along my bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh with it. “You are such a good girl, but I have a feeling you were meant to be bad.”

My pulse goes haywire, and my blood dances in my veins like a drunk chick at a club.

“But I still shouldn’t kiss you.”

“Totally agree.”

He stares into my eyes and then down at my lips. “Fuck it.”

“Fuck it?” I squeak hastily. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m going to kiss you so good we’ll both forget all the reasons why this is a bad idea.”

With that, his lips slam down onto mine, and my body goes back into the glass, and any protest I had been forming goes right out the doors and straight into the ocean.