Chapter Seven

B urgess could confidently say he’d never been happier to walk into his apartment.

Perhaps a little too happy. And he blamed Tallulah’s skirt.

When he got off the elevator on the floor of his building, he was met by the sound of music. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the unbearable wailing of his daughter’s favorite band, Raskulls. There had never been any love lost between him and the British pop group who wore giant phony heads on stage with freakishly happy faces painted on front. The first time Lissa played them in the car, he’d contemplated crashing into a wall just to end the torture. He was dreading the day she asked him to bring her to an actual concert.

They didn’t make strong enough earplugs.

Apparently, Tallulah could put up with the lead singer’s high-pitched warble, but he was only going to last approximately three minutes once he got inside.

Burgess pushed his key into the lock and twisted, opening the door and wincing slightly as the worst music ever recorded got even louder. He opened his mouth to complain, but only silence came out. Because there was Tallulah, bent over his kitchen table in a black leather mini skirt and sheer stockings that ended a few inches beneath her ass. She was holding a dirty dinner plate in one hand, as she’d obviously been on the way to the kitchen to put it into the sink when she must have been derailed by Lissa asking for homework help. She appeared to be leaning across the table in order to see a problem in Lissa’s math workbook and the timing of him walking into the apartment couldn’t have been worse. Or better.

Both.

He was frozen in place, yet burning up with a fever.

She... he... could see the undercurve of her ass cheeks. The black lace of her panties. The incredibly smooth section of her rear upper thighs. She was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life, no question about it. Especially when she laughed and it caused her to fall forward onto the table, barely catching herself on a forearm and the tight curve of that backside got even more dramatic and... dangerous. Very fucking dangerous. Because he was imagining the chafe of those stockings against his palms, the supple weight of her ass cheeks in his hands, how she’d shiver and look back at him over her shoulder when he pulled those panties down to her knees.

These were not the types of thoughts he should be having when they were not the only two people in the apartment. Hell, he shouldn’t be thinking about taking off her underwear at any time, right? She’d given him no obvious indication that she was interested in that. He’d simply walked in at the wrong time, and now he’d be haunted for the rest of his life by fantasies of those stockinged legs wrapped around his neck.

Where was she going in that outfit?

Out?

One thing was for sure, Tallulah couldn’t know he’d seen her like this. Their relationship as boss and employee was fragile to begin with, as was her ability to trust men, in general. Getting caught ogling her absurdly hot ass would not help matters. Don’t think about how it would look slapping off your stomach.

Too late.

Burgess backed out of the apartment as quietly as possible, making an unnecessary amount of noise when he entered the second time, coughing and ramming his knee into the door, jangling his keys as he locked and unlocked it again. This time, when he walked inside, Tallulah and Lissa were well aware of his presence. Tallulah gave him a light smile on her way into the kitchen and Lissa waved to him from the kitchen table.

“Dad!” Lissa shouted over the music. “She made the chicken again!”

Burgess raised an eyebrow at Tallulah, who gave him a prim sniff—or at least he thought she sniffed, the band from hell was doing everything in its power to drown her out. “We had all the ingredients left over from last night. I didn’t want them to go to waste.” She turned on the water in the kitchen sink to rinse her dish, casting him another quick glance over her shoulder. “Left you a plate, if you want it.”

If he wanted it. Was she serious? The only thing Burgess wanted to eat more than her lemon chicken with a side of Saksuka was... her.

And wow, you are disgusting. Obviously, the rookies were rubbing off on him.

Burgess dropped his duffel bag just inside the door, took off his jacket and draped it over the hook. “How was school today?”

“Good. No volleyball practice.” Lissa’s concentration was back on her homework. “Tallulah moved in, but she’s already going out.”

“Out?” Burgess asked, casually as possible, while leaning down to untie his boots—and his back spasmed. It was like someone had stuck a plucked tuning fork in his kidney, a painful vibration zooming through the right side of his lower back. His breath lurched out of his lungs and he had to slap a hand against the wall for balance, a guttural sound escaping him before he could lock it inside. Dammit.

“Dad?” Lissa called from the table, obviously alarmed.

His daughter’s panicked tone was the reason he immediately tried to straighten up, even though his contracting muscles weren’t ready for it. Too bad. He pushed through the strain and sent his kid a tight smile. “I’m fine. Just sore.”

Burgess looked toward the kitchen to find Tallulah watching him closely.

Too closely.

In her mini skirt and makeup, all dressed up to go meet someone who could bend over and untie their boots without needing painkillers. Lissa still looked worried, so he fought through the pain of leaning down and picking up his duffel bag again, tossing it over his shoulder. “I’m just going to throw these sweaty clothes in the laundry. Keep working on your homework and I’ll be back.”

His daughter relaxed somewhat. “Okay.”

Burgess passed through the living room to the other side of the apartment, down the short hallway where the bedrooms were located, along with one of two bathrooms in the residence. The other was his ensuite. Despite the lock he’d installed this morning, the guest room door had been left slightly ajar, so after checking to make sure no one was watching, he craned his neck to look through the opening and saw Tallulah’s suitcase open on the queen-sized bed, her sneakers untied on the floor, jacket hanging on the knob of the closet door.

Had she tried the pillows he’d bought? Were they too firm? Too soft?

They were . . . on the floor, actually.

In place of them, there was a balled-up sweatshirt.

Is that what she preferred to lay her head on at night?

The slightest hint of her orange and basil scent drifted out, diverting his thoughts and making him swallow hard.

Inhaling quietly, Burgess continued a few steps to his bedroom door and nudged his way inside, flipping on the light with his elbow. Now that he was alone, he allowed himself to grind a curse through his teeth, dropping his duffel onto the bed and unzipping it quickly, in search of the white bottle of Advil. The damn music was still on full blast out in the living room... which was why he didn’t hear Tallulah enter the bedroom behind him. Not until her shadow cast itself over the bed and he turned to find her quietly closing the door, but very deliberately leaving it open a crack.

The pulse at the base of her neck was fluttering slightly, her fingers linking and unlinking in front of her. Being alone with him still made her a touch uneasy, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being rageful at the man who’d turned her world into a scary place, but he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it wouldn’t be that way for long. Still, no amount of pain in his back could distract Burgess from the fact that he was alone with Tallulah in his bedroom and she looked like a fucking smoke show.

His hookups had been few and far between since the divorce, mainly because they made him feel lonely. The aging bachelorhood of it all was pathetic. But Jesus, if he encountered this woman on the road, or anywhere for that matter, he would beg, cheat, and steal to bring her home and sleep with her. The irony of her already being in his home—and off-limits—was not lost on him whatsoever.

“Hey.” Her gaze flickered down to the white bottle in his hands. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just run-of-the-mill stuff,” he said smoothly. “I get body slammed for a living.”

Her lips jumped. “So you do.”

“Lissa seemed happier today.”

“Yes.” Her smile made his stomach flip over. “She did.”

“Thanks for helping her with her homework.”

“You don’t have to thank me. That’s my job. ”

“And cooking.”

“Now, that isn’t my job. Tonight was definitely the last time.”

“Understood.” He tried really goddamn hard not to look below her neck, but the strain of making it thirty seconds was taking a toll on his self-control. Burgess made himself a deal. Just her hips. He’d just memorize the line of her hips in that skirt and he’d go back to making eye contact. One, two, three...

God.

That leather had been licked onto her by the devil. Cursed with the knowledge that she wore stockings underneath made his balls feel heavy, his hands itchy to touch.

Eyes up.

“Are you going out?” he rasped.

“Yes. That’s what I was going to speak to you about.”

“You’re going to tell me your plans?” She was volunteering them without him having to ask? Awesome. Saved him from looking too interested. Which he was. Way too interested in where she was going in black lace panties.

“I mean, no? I wasn’t going to inform you of my plans. Should I?” Humor crackled in her eyes. “I was actually wondering if you had keys for me, so I don’t have to sleep in the hallway.”

“Keys. Right.” This wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. “They’re hanging by the door—the ones with the pepper spray attached.”

Her smile dimmed, her expression growing more curious than anything. “You bought me pepper spray?”

“Did I overstep again?”

“I think so?” She shook her head slowly. “There are a lot of gray areas with you, boss. And I already have some spray attached to my keychain.”

“Good.” She’d definitely put a little extra emphasis on the word boss . “I would want my daughter to carry pepper spray.”

Why did he say that? It made him sound old enough to be her father, which thank fuck, he wasn’t. Still. Could he call any more attention to their eleven-year age difference?

“Since we’re already operating in the gray areas, maybe you should let me know where you’re going. Just in case.”

She studied him, half amused, half searching. “I’m meeting some grad students at a club near the harbor. I met them at orientation, and we share a class.” She brightened. “Actually, Chloe is coming, too.”

That caught him off guard. “Chloe. As in Sig’s future stepsister?”

“Yes.”

“How did that come about?”

“Well...” Her amusement deepened. Why? He couldn’t recall ever amusing anyone before Tallulah. “When I made plans to meet for drinks today, I figured the more the merrier, so I texted Chloe to join us.” Burgess couldn’t help it, he was completely fascinated by that mentality. Making plans with people she’d just met? Mixing friend groups? Where did the chaos end? “If I let too much time pass after meeting Chloe, we’ll never hang out. Making friends in a new place means taking initiative.”

“How do you know that?”

She tilted her head, causing dark hair to skim against her bare arm... and his mouth to go dry. “Are you asking me a lot of questions to stall me from going out, Burgess?”

Was he?

Maybe.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was softer than before, almost flirtatious. “You tell me.” A fraction of a second after that flirty opening left her mouth, she started, seeming almost surprised at herself and rushed to fill the ensuing charged silence. “I’m trying to relearn how to create... social networks, I guess. I need them, you know?” A shadow danced in the brown of her eyes. “I can’t stay inside and avoid the world forever.”

“Pretty rude of you to call me out like that. First day on the job, too. Is this the kind of abuse I should expect from you?”

A dimple popped in her cheek. “Do you stay inside and avoid the world, Burgess?”

“Happily,” he replied, no idea if he meant it or not. In the not so recent past, he would have been more positive of his answer. Yes, avoiding people and annoying situations made him abundantly happy. Or at least comfortable. But he wasn’t sure if happy was the word to describe him anymore. Existing was more like it. Coping.

“Hmmm.” She definitely wanted to say more, but her gaze traveled past Burgess and landed on something behind him. “Does that sweatshirt say ‘Orgasm Donor’?”

It took him a moment to comprehend the question, because he was so distracted by her incredible lips moving in such a way that they released the word “orgasm.” In his bedroom. With that sexy leather skirt on. Had he really set himself up for this kind of continuous torture?

Oh. Shit. The sweatshirt.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I can explain.”

“No need.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I already know how orgasms are donated.”

Could his eyes really be blamed for homing in on her incredible thighs? His sex drive was beyond healthy and he’d been celibate for over a year. Now he was facing the overstimulation of this knockout flirting with him one second, drawing back the next. His cock had no idea what to do, so it just got hard by default. “You don’t know how I donate them.”

“I don’t think I’ll be finding out,” she blurted, sounding suspiciously breathy. “Will I?”

Mother of God, he wanted to chance a step forward, and he came right to the edge of his willpower before reminding himself why she needed boundaries. And how badly he wanted her to feel safe around him. But he would have gladly given his MVP trophy to look down into her upturned face when he said, “Your call, Tallulah.”

Because son of a bitch, it turned her on.

No mistaking that.

It wouldn’t matter if he went six months or six years without sex, he knew what it meant when a woman looked at him the way Tallulah did just then. As if mentally trying him on for size, perhaps against her better judgment. Her gaze meandered down to his stomach, teasing the button at the top of his fly, flitting across the breadth of his shoulders, dragging up his neck. All within two seconds. But it was enough to make him wonder what if . What if they were closer in age and he wasn’t a divorced, burned-out has-been hiding an injury? Would it be understood that she was safe with him at all times?

Would he be the one peeling off that tight little skirt at the end of the night?

Yeah, all right. He really needed to quit this line of thought before the situation downstairs got any worse. His back wasn’t the only part of him throbbing.

“That’s not my sweatshirt, by the way. We stole them off the rookies today.”

“Who is we?”

“Me and Sig. Chloe’s soon-to-be stepbrother.”

A smile danced around the edges of her mouth. “Why did you do that?”

He snorted. “They showed up in matching sweatshirts , Tallulah.”

“Technically, you all match when you wear your uniform.”

“Our uniforms don’t say ‘Orgasm Donor.’”

“Maybe they should. Think of the crowds.”

Softly, she mimicked the sound of an explosion, and he found himself wanting to laugh. Also to ask her to stay home and talk to him just like this. All night. The apartment already felt better with her there and she’d only moved in a few hours ago.

“Um...” She looked kind of surprised to still be standing there. “Lissa is almost done with her math homework. She did her English on the bus. There’s a science packet due next week, so she should work on that a little bit tonight—kind of bummed I’m missing it. Science is my thing.” She drummed her fingers against the side of her thigh. “Break any noses tonight?”

“I considered it.” He thought for a second. “The season opener is three weeks from today. If it doesn’t interfere with your schedule in any way, maybe you could bring her?”

No doubt about it, the invitation to his game had caught her off guard. “Oh.”

It caught him off guard, too. “You don’t have to answer now.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.” After a small hesitation, she backed toward the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Tallulah.” Watching her disappear into the hallway, he struggled against the protectiveness that started to whip its tail around inside of him. And even though he told himself she was a capable adult that didn’t need babysitting, he lost. “Be careful.”

“I will.”

Leave it there. “If you get stuck or something happens, you can call me. Two a.m. Whatever.”

Halfway out the door, she paused, studying his face intently. “Good night, Burgess.”