She leaned in. She couldn’t help it. “We do work together, you know.” Teasing. Cajoling. A little closer. “And we are…friends, right?”
All the relaxation left his body as he shuddered. It had been too long since she’d had this effect on a man. It was heady and fun. And in a few more weeks, it would be entirely above board. For now, she would have to walk the line carefully.
Someone bumped into her from behind and she collided with Owen, his hands wrapping around her body as he shielded her from the pulse of the crowd. Strong, warm fingers slid over the bare skin on her back, and that line she’d been worried about walking carefully got very hard to see.
Electricity arced between them as he held her close for the second time, as she breathed in the scent of his nice clean shirt, and the skin on his arm that was right there. She had an up-close view of his tattoo for the second time, and it reminded her of bumping into him in the grocery store and the way he stalked off.
A lifetime ago. Since then, they’d shared laughs, and secrets, and forged a tentative friendship that put a lot of weight on pretending they didn’t want each other when obviously they did.
She wanted Owen so very much. It had been too long since she’d had a no-strings-attached fling.
Against her back, his hand shook for a second, then he skated it down her hip in a surprisingly sure move, landing his electric touch on her upper thigh. Her head swimming, she glanced up and found him staring intently at her, his eyes glittering in the dim club lighting. She found the rail at the bottom of the bar and she hoisted herself up with his help so she was leaning against him, closer to meeting his impressive height.
His one hand was hot and steady on her leg, and the other started to roam up and down her back. Neither of them said anything. He touched, she held still, and inch by inch, he explored all the bare skin her halter top revealed. When he got to her shoulder, she shivered, and the groan he made was dangerous. She knew the risk of tangling with him. But she also knew she wouldn’t get him out of her system any other way.
It was the t-shirt, she told herself. The way it rode up on his arms, baring too much of his biceps. Showing off that damn tattoo, that delicate ink that was nothing like the rest of his personality. She’d been tricked by worse in the past. And Owen was the opposite of the worst—he was, underneath that gruff exterior, a lovely, funny man.
But he was the father of her client, and this was inappropriate. She fought through the cloud of desire and pressed her hands against his hard chest. “Owen, stop.”
He dropped his hand from her thigh like she’d just burst into flames, and stepped back. Not far—he kept her shielded from the rest of the club. They were both shaking.
“Jesus,” he rasped. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. I’m—I—”
“I don’t know what came over me.”
Lust. It had consumed her as well. “I wanted you to hold me.” Want. It was a present-tense desire. She wanted him to still kiss her right now, right here, again, even as she told him no, as she insisted they couldn’t. “But we can’t do this here. Or now.”
His hands tightened on the edge of the bar and he nodded.
The music changed again. “Livin’ La Vida Loca” started pulsing through the air, and Kerry wanted nothing more than to slide against Owen, get his hands on her bare hips, and dance as close together as humanly possible.
Instead she grabbed the bottles of water from the bar and swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I have to get back out there,” she whispered. “See you later.”
Chapter Fourteen
The cry wastiny and ragged, but it still woke Owen from his sleep. The creak of floor boards in the hallway told him he wasn’t alone in being woken up, either.
Pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he quietly eased open his bedroom door—and came face-to-face with his daughter’s wide-eyed ex-boyfriend. Hayden had a fussing Charlie up against his chest and was trying to awkwardly calm him.
“What are you doing here?” Owen rumbled.
Hayden’s mouth flapped open, then closed again. He visibly swallowed hard, then turned and bounced his way into the living room, where Becca was passed out on the sofa. Next to her, the empty baby swing was still moving back and forth, the tinny rainforest music a bizarre but perfect soundtrack to this three-in-the-morning party they were having.
Owen turned off the baby swing arm, leaving the music playing. He quietly moved past Hayden. “You want coffee?”
The kid followed him into the kitchen, Charlie protesting the whole way.
“How about you make it, and I’ll take him.” Owen reached for his grandson.
Hayden didn’t move.
“I won’t—” Owen cut himself off. “What’s wrong?”
Hayden gave him an embarrassed look. “I don’t know how to make coffee.”
He didn’t know how to soothe a crying baby, either. Owen sighed. “Turn Charlie over and hold him with your arm against his belly. It’s probably gas, and that feels good.”
