She shook her head. “I don’t really know. And it doesn’t matter. I’m learning so much, and, I hope, I’m doing a good job where I am.”
“I’ve heard as much,” he agreed.
Her brows went up at the same time Oscar finished his bottle. She set it on the table and shifted him to her shoulder. Finn watched every move. She was so careful, so gentle, he could almost feel the tenderness in her touch. He wanted to feel it.
Oscar burped, making her smile.
“It’s a little ridiculous how rewarding that sound is,” she said, still smiling, her green gaze locked with his.
He didn’t have much to say to that. Here he was, sitting in his kitchen, well past midnight, enjoying a conversation. It had been a long time since he’d spent time with a woman outside of a bed. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a woman’s company when some sort of foreplay wasn’t involved.
He imagined her hair spread across her pillows and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Would she feel as soft as she looked? Would she smile and sigh beneath him? Or would she be passionate and vocal? The wolf wanted to know—every instinct demanded he find out. He focused entirely on her, quieting his mind until he was in tune with her.
The flushing of her cheeks.
The pump of her heart accelerating.
The slight shudder of her breath.
The nervous dart of her tongue along her lower lip.
She swallowed.
Did she feel this?
She blinked, severing the connection between them.
“He’ll be down for a few hours now, so I suppose I’ll try to get some sleep.” She stood. “Is there anything else you need me to do this evening, Mr. Dean?”
He swallowed back the laundry list of inappropriate things that sprang to mind. “No, Miss Talbot. Thank you,” he ground out the last words. But there was something. “And you can call me Finn.”
She paused, hesitant. “Good night, Finn.”
His hand clenched around his fork, bending the metal into a knot. He cleared his throat. “Sweet dreams, Jessa.”
She carried Oscar from the room, her scent lingering in the air long after her bedroom door closed behind her.
…
Jessa glanced at the five dossiers she’d compiled, waiting for Mr. Dean’s approval. She wasn’t 100 percent pleased with any of the candidates, but she supposed there never would be someone truly up for caring for Oscar. In the two weeks she’d spent with him, she’d accepted the fact that he was the sweetest-tempered baby in existence. He fussed only when he was hungry, tired, or needed changing. Because of that, she’d been able to sleep well and accomplish the few tasks that needed to be done. Her brothers had stopped by to visit a few times, probably to keep her from discovering the state of the house, and they’d had homework video chats when needed. Since Finn had expressed concern over taking Oscar too far from him, she’d rarely left his apartment. She wasn’t used to having so much free time, but Augustina refused to let her help with household chores.
Oscar was too little to put in a jogging stroller, but she’d taken him for a couple of brisk walks in the morning for a change of scenery. Finn insisted she have a bodyguard, but Greg, the man assigned to her, kept his distance, and after a while, she would forget he was there. Instead, she enjoyed the new city paths and parks, things Oscar would enjoy when he was older. On mornings that were too cold to venture out, she’d do yoga when Mr. Dean left for work.
Mr. Dean. Finn. She’d spent far too much of her free time thinking about her mesmerizing employer.
Worse, he’d taken over her dreams, consuming her with his hands and mouth in a way that made her weak. There was something predatory about him. Something that made her stomach clench and her long-neglected body beg for attention.
In her twenty-eight years, her experience with men was limited. But never, ever, had she felt so…conscious of a man. As soon as he walked through the door, she was hyperaware of him.
&
nbsp; To him, she was a temporary installation, nothing more. After that first night, he’d remained reserved and distant. He came home late and disappeared into his office, reappearing long enough to eat and exchange pleasantries.
Because I’m an employee.
Finnegan Dean would never think of her as anything beyond that. She needed to be careful. Falling for her boss would be a stupid mistake—one she couldn’t afford to make, on so many levels. If her dreams weren’t so real, she’d remember that. But they were, waking her up in a tangle of sheets and sweat, alone and aching, still with the whisper of his fingers on her skin.
She glanced at the clock. “I’m late,” she murmured. But she couldn’t exactly show up for a meeting covered in spit-up and smelling like sour formula. She shrugged out of the shirt and hurried into the bathroom, rinsing the formula from the fabric. She worked quickly, running the stain under water and lathering it with soap. She rinsed the soap and hung it over the shower rail before heading into her room. Only to find Finn staring into the crib at his sleeping son.