Heated Rush

Plus, oh, joy, she’d just noticed that her bright blue Baby Daze uniform shirt had what appeared to be a spit-up stain on the sleeve and a smear of red finger paint on the hem. Pathetic.

“Hi.”

“Hello.” He looked amused, as if he’d read her thoughts.

He’d probably read her next one, too, as she studied him, top to bottom, wondering how on earth she was going to convince anyone she’d landed someone this good-looking. Guys like Sean didn’t know places like Green Springs existed, and they most assuredly never hooked up with girls from them.

That fact was made more obvious by his appearance. Even without his evening wear, he still looked too hot for her, no matter what his resume said about his profession. Although, in terms of his clothes, he couldn’t look much more different than he had last night.

Sean wore soft, faded jeans that clung to his lean hips and rode every lump and angle of his body. Some lumps were incredibly obvious, given her position, seated and looking almost directly at his middle.

Lord have mercy, could the man fill out a pair of jeans. She shifted slightly on the hard wooden bench, suddenly very aware of the pressure against her bottom and her thighs. And the very tender spot between them.

Taking in a slow, shaky breath, she forced herself to lift her eyes, noting the crisp white dress shirt. It was unbuttoned at the throat and folded up at the sleeves to reveal thickly flexing forearms. They were roped with muscle, lightly covered with dark, wiry hair, hinting at strength and power that hadn’t been as obvious beneath the tuxedo. She imagined he’d have to be powerfully built, if he spent most of his time responding to accident scenes, saving people’s lives.

Tonight he seemed the antithesis of the tux-wearing sophisticate she’d met at the auction, but the attitude, the half smile, the gleam in his eyes revealed the innately sexy, confident man inside. No matter what he was wearing.

She grabbed her wineglass and sipped deeply as he sat down across from her.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, I don’t often get ‘round to this area when I’m in Chicago.”

Her brow went up. “You don’t live here?”

“Not usually.”

Interesting answer.

“Where do you live? Usually.”

He waved a noncommittal hand in the air, evading a question that most people would consider extremely simple. The reaction was confirmed by his words. “That’s complicated.”

“For escaped cons on the run, maybe. Not normal people.”

“I’m not exactly normal people.”

Undoubtedly.

“But my mailing address doesn’t really matter, does it? All that matters is that I’ll be around this weekend.”

“Just this weekend…” she murmured, before she could think better of it.

Sean nodded once. Though his voice remained friendly, his smile diminished the tiniest bit. “Yes, Annie. One weekend. I’ll be leaving Chicago on Monday.”

Annie heard what he was saying, and what he wasn’t. She had to give the man credit—at least he wasn’t making empty promises. He was laying it out on the table, what he could offer her, what she might expect from him. His terms.

He didn’t say “Take it or leave it.” He didn’t have to.

She’d take it. How much of it, she wasn’t sure yet. But, at least, she knew the rules going in and could decide whether or not that weekend would end at her front door when they returned from her family’s place, on Sunday afternoon.

Or in her bed, much later that night.

“I understand,” she finally replied, forcing herself to sound casual, completely unaffected by the unspoken agreement they’d just made. “Through this weekend.”

“Okay,” he said, though, surprisingly, he didn’t sound entirely comfortable about her ready agreement. “Now we have to decide how we’re going to spend it.”

They were going to spend it perpetrating a fraud. But that seemed a little too honest to start out the conversation.

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“That’s not complicated. I have an apartment in Lincoln Park. Not far from my day care center.”

“And you live alone? No roommates?”

She knew he was trying to get more information, possibly even open the door to discuss her romantic past. But no way was she going there. “Just me and Wally.”

His jaw stiffened. “Who’s Wally?”

“My cat,” she explained with a soft laugh. Remembering something she hadn’t cleared with him, Annie added, “He’ll be coming with us on Saturday. I hope that’s all right.”

“I’m allergic.”

Oh, no.

“Kidding,” he said, holding a hand up, palm out, as he saw her panic. “Lord, girl, but you’re easy to get a rise out of.”

“I warned you about that catfish,” she said, unable to keep herself from laughing. He was…charming, that was all. Even when he was trying to get her back up, he was entirely charming. Easy to talk to, amusing, flirtatious but also courteous, his teasing sounding even more lighthearted with his lyrical accent.

She’d never met another man like him. And she wanted him with a kind of desperation that she’d never experienced before. The lust bubbling up inside her almost made her shake with its intensity.

Lust. She, little Annie Davis, whose brothers had put out a bounty on any guy who dared even think about relieving her of her virginity in high school, was seriously in lust.

The things she wanted to do with this man probably hadn’t even entered the heated imaginations of the guys she’d gone to school with.

“Maybe I should meet Wally before we’re stuck in a car together for a few hours on Saturday.” The mischief in his smile negated the seriousness of his suggestion. “Perhaps you ought to invite me to come home with you.”

Oh, yeah, that’d be a great idea. Once she got him inside and shut the door, she’d immediately try to come up with some excuse to tear her clothes off—like, maybe because she got splashed with acid or something. And then she’d find a reason to leap naked into his arms.

That would be easy…she could just tell him the truth. She was so damned attracted to him, she couldn’t help herself.

Too soon. Annie never acted on instant attraction. That had saved her ass with Blake. So she wasn’t about to question her own judgment now by leaping into this man’s bed within twenty-four hours of meeting him.

This Sunday, though? Within six days? Well, she’d give it some serious thought.

Not even bothering to answer his question about coming home with her, she asked, “Want a drink?”

He nodded, letting her change the subject. Signaling the waitress, he ordered a pint, which sounded perfect coming out of his Irish mouth.

His very kissable Irish mouth.