Maxime huffed, and my lips bowed at the sound. I’d got used to his dry equivalent of a laugh.
“You have a history of making rash decisions?”
“You heard? And disastrous consequences usually follow.”
His lips twitched. “Like?”
I waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I don’t want to bore you. Or put you off paying me a lot of money to look after your daughter.”
Maxime studied me for what felt like an age. Finally, he shook his head. “No, that’s not fair.”
“What?”
He tugged on the net, adjusting its position in the water. “I told you about my history on the cliff. I think payback is in order.”
My chest fizzed at the intensity of his gaze. “A secret for a secret?”
“No. A truth for a truth.”
I swallowed. He wanted a truth? How about the fact thatright now, I’d happily jump his bones? Then, of course, there was the whole:“You don’t know this, but you employed a dyslexic nanny to help your daughter with her English essay.”Would that be a bridge too far?
“What do you want to know?”
He looked at me like he’d melt my very soul. “You’re smart, beautiful.”
My heart skittered.
“You could do anything. What are you doing here?”
“In a boat?”
Maxime sent me his most sizzling scowl yet, and I pressed my legs tighter together. Did I really want to go into why I was here? What scared me about going back home? If I told him, he’d know why I was wholly unsuitable to look after his daughter.
No. I’d deflect. It was one of my go-to tactics for hiding the way words tied me in knots. It’d served me well so far.
I eyed the rope in his hand. “Truth? I’ve always wanted to learn to fish.”
He looked at me like I’d asked him to swap heads.
“No, really. It would be comforting to know that, should a zombie apocalypse come, I could at least be self-sufficient. Show me.”
A muscle pulsed in his jaw.
Something tapped on the door of my memory. I’d asked the same thing before. That night, he’d been tying his net, and I’d offered him my wrist. Did he remember it, too?
“Please,” I said, aiming from bright and breezy—definitely not bondage-lite. I didn’t think I’d survive another night of the frustration our last fishing-net foray had wrought.
“Watch,” he said.
My inner smut-queen perked up.
Yes, Daddy Maxime.
I rolled my eyes at myself. Honestly, even when Itriedtokeep things innocent, the damage was done—Iris’s romance novels had well and truly ruined me.
“Are you okay?”
The question caught me off guard. “Oh, totally. I was just thinking about the wind direction. Does that affect your tossing?”
