“Let’s discuss business later.” She nodded towards Alix. She couldn’t talk about the details of their newest client without revealing all the details of her past, something she wouldn’t do without a guarantee of privacy. Now wasn’t the time. The coward in her heart, a shadow of her former self, welcomed the delay.
“Okay, the squirt comes first,” he said, settling himself on the carpet beside Alix.
Chelsie’s heart swelled at the sight of the two people she had come to love frolicking on her living-room floor. Griff and Alix in her apartment created the illusion of a real home, something this place would never be.
Griff glanced up, his gaze locking with hers. “Come join us. We need you.”
His words sent a tingle along her spine. She liked that he’d linked them together in something other than a professional capacity. In fact, she enjoyed the notion too much. Maybe the sound pleased her because he’d said “us” without conscious thought.
She sat between them. After a while, Alix laid her head in Chelsie’s lap. “I love this squirt,” Chelsie whispered. She fingered the dark curls, watching as the little girl’s eyes grew heavy and finally closed.
“Peaceful,” Griff said.
Chelsie smiled. With Alix arou
nd, a moment of silence was rare. “This is nice,” she agreed. Too nice. Maybe it was just as well the end had come. At this point, occasional visits might benefit everyone. Alix shouldn’t come to rely on her any more than she already did, especially since she’d probably be making herself scarce once Griff understood everything about Chelsie Russell.
As if he read her somber mood, he spoke. “Hey.” He tipped her chin upward so her eyes met his. “You are the world’s best baby-sitter. And how many women get this kind of practice before they’re officially called Mommy?” His lips touched hers before he turned his attention back to the sleeping child.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He turned toward her. “For what?”
For reminding me of my place. “For being so understanding,” she said.
He smiled. “I’m an understanding guy.”
Hold that thought. Chelsie wished she felt nearly as confident that his words would hold true.
* * *
Griff lifted the sleeping child out of her car seat and stifled a yawn. Chelsie followed him into the house. While he got Alix settled in bed, Chelsie waited downstairs. He found her in the den. Her feet were propped on an ottoman and she lounged comfortably on the couch.
“You didn’t need to come all the way back with us, but I appreciate the company.” He stretched his arms above his head, feeling every muscle that had worked loading boxes that afternoon. “Mrs. Baxter will be back in the morning and I’m hoping this household will resettle itself into a routine.”
Her eyes followed his every movement, stirring his body to life. Wanting Chelsie had become as much a part of him as breathing. Fantasy had been easier. Now he knew the feel of her silken skin gliding beneath him.
She smiled. “Routines are easy to fall into.” She paused. “Now that Alix is asleep, we need to talk.”
“Personally, I can think of other things to do while Alix sleeps.” Too much time had passed and he couldn’t forget the feel of Chelsie in his arms, couldn’t stop the need to have her again.
Her eyes glazed over at his words and he knew she was remembering. The memories of that one night seared his mind, heated his body, and made treating her in a casual, non-lover-like manner damned difficult. Daydreams as potent as his seemed awfully real sometimes, especially those involving Chelsie Russell.
He stepped closer and placed an arm on either side of her shoulders. Her tongue darted over her lips, moistening them until they glistened.
“Talk, Griff. This shouldn’t wait.”
He kissed her mid-sentence, capturing her mouth with his and slipping his tongue through her already parted lips. She raised her hands to his chest in a half-hearted effort to push him away. Her hands lingered, but didn’t move. Her scent surrounded him.
He needed more. He nipped lightly at her lower lip. Her hands grasped his shirt and pulled him closer, until he ended up lying on top of her on the couch.
Raising his head, he intended to stop only long enough to straighten their awkward position.
“Griff.” Her throaty voice startled him.
“Give us one more night,” he said. “We’ll talk in the morning, I promise. Whatever it is can wait.”
Uncertainty flickered in the depths of her dark eyes. He brushed a kiss over each lid, wanting her to feel gentle persuasion, not pressure. “One more night”