There with You (Adair Family 2)

“Thane?” Regan sat forward on the chair, reaching to grip his wrist as realization dawned on her. “No. I … see you in Eilidh. No way. She’s yours.”

“I know she’s mine.” His heart banged in his chest at the very idea of someone trying to take her from him.

Regan relaxed. “You did a test?”

“No.” He yanked his arm out from under hers. “I don’t need a bloody test. No test needs to tell me what I already know in my gut. Eilidh is my daughter.”

She seemed to process that, and whatever conclusion she drew made her expression soften to pure tenderness. The tightness in his chest eased, and he had the seductive thought that it might be fantastic to pull her into his arms and bury all his worries and frustration in her.

But he couldn’t.

Not this woman.

“I’m telling you this because McClintock approached, like I said. He was drunk, and Eilidh was the reason he’d come to me. I quickly shut him down, but it put me in a bear of a mood. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to take the brunt of it.”

Concerned, she sat forward, her elbows to knees. “Did he threaten to take action about this?”

“I’ve worried all week that’s where the conversation was heading, but I think I scared the shit out of him. Haven’t heard from him since.”

“Why now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s not happening.”

At his dark tone, Regan gave him a grim nod. “Agreed. I’m glad you scared him off.”

Seeing her reaction, her genuine fondness for his family, made him feel even worse about his treatment of her. “Do you accept my apology, then?”

She cocked her head and her hair spilled down her shoulders, the copper glinting brilliantly in the low afternoon sun. In the shadows, her eyes often looked dark brown, but today their color was a warm, glossy chestnut with red and gold tones to match her hair.

They’d been dull only a short time ago. The light was back.

Thank God.

“I won’t put up with it again. I’m nobody’s punching bag, Thane.”

He winced slightly. “I know that. It won’t happen again. I’m ashamed it even did.”

Her expression softened and then turned quizzical. “Does that mean you weren’t treating me like that because of … the hands on my ass thing?”

Flushing, Thane rubbed the back of his neck. How did he explain this tactfully without hurting her feelings even further? Deciding she deserved his honesty instead of his avoidance, he leaned toward her. “That can’t happen between us, Regan. Ever.”

Her brow puckered. “You’re attracted to me too. I felt it. In more ways than one.”

At her mischievous comment, he threw her a quelling look.

She grinned wickedly and goddamn it, all his blood rushed south.

“Regan,” he warned. “I’m serious. There’s no point in denying that I think you’re beautiful. I’d have to be half dead not to react to you pressed up against me.” He quickly threw the memory out. “But I’m your boss, and you’re too young for me. It could never be anything but sex between us, and that’s not happening.”

Thane waited impatiently for her reaction. She studied him for what seemed like a very long time, and he worried about her being out in this bloody cold garden with no coat. Finally, she threw a glance over her shoulder at the house, then turned to lean into him. Her voice low, husky, heat in those gorgeous eyes, she asked, “Who said it had to be anything serious? We want each other, and we’re both adults. Why can’t we just satisfy those urges without making a big deal out of it?”

The blood was definitely rushing out of his brain because there was a part of him that wanted to give in, to say screw it, and crawl into her bed that night to bury his loneliness inside her.

Shaking his head at the selfish thought, Thane stood, putting distance between them. He clutched the journal in his hand and gestured with it. “Thank you again for the thoughtful gift, Regan. But I’m going to say this one more time: it can’t happen between us. Now either we agree to put it behind us, or we’ll need to reassess your position as the children’s nanny.”

“Thane.” She stood with a huff of anger and tried to reach for him. He pulled away from her and ignored her hurt expression. “I don’t get how you can be so great one minute and then so cold the next.”

“Probably because every time I’m myself with you, you cross the line,” he snapped. She was pushing him to lose control. He wanted to, and he hated himself for it. “I’m trying to be a good man. A good father. I don’t need to make village gossip the truth and turn this into something sordid. For the last time, I’m asking you to act professionally toward me from now on, to treat me as you treated the other fathers who employed you, unless, of course, you get off on harassing older, unavailable men.”