Well, I hope the kid is nice at least. I take a deep, steadying breath and then click the buzzer nestled discreetly on one of side of the door. Lavish potted plants grace the landing, and then a man’s deep voice rings out from inside the townhouse.
“Just a minute.”
Okay, fine. I pick at my fingernails while I wait, going through my mental checklist of questions that I always ask new clients. Meanwhile, inside the house, I hear the sound of feet pounding down the stairs and a delighted little squeal, probably the little girl herself.
A second later, the door clicks open.
“Sorry about that, Vivi was insisting that she wear her new tutu— Holy shit. It’s you,” a huge man says, staring at me.
I stare right back, feeling every ounce of blood draining from my face because … oh no. I’m too dumbstruck to speak or to even move. Instead, I just stand on the porch like a statue.
“Umm, fuck.” He gestures toward me awkwardly but immediately drops his hand, looking simultaneously confused and angry.
It’s the man’s discomfort that finally snaps me back to life.
“Oh my gosh,” I finally mutter. “I am so sorry.”
It’s him, it’s the sexy ass man from last night, I squeal to myself. Outwardly, I think I’m turning every shade of red that ever existed. I definitely don’t know why I apologized, but instinct told me it was the right thing to say.
I think.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the man splutters. “Did you follow me from the club?”
I stare at him.
“What? No! I’m Marcy Hobbs, your babysitter for tonight,” I state. OMG, he thought I was stalking him? As if! I mean, of course I wanted to see him again, but within the confines of Sanctum. Not here, as a babysitter in his family home.
“You’re the babysitter?” he begins, like he can’t even remember.
“Yes. The babysitter you requested from Child Mine Agency. That’s me.”
He blinks again, still trying to process this information.
“Okay, right, yeah, that’s the name they gave me. Marcy,” he says, running my name over in his mouth. “Marcy Hobbs.” For some reason, his words sound very intimate, and we stare at each other once again, still stunned. Oh god, oh god, what should I do?
But before I can act, the man steps aside, and gestures to the interior of the townhome.
“I think you better come inside, Miss Hobbs, because we have a lot to talk about.”
My limbs feel numb as I follow because have I already lost this job? Even worse, is he going to report me to the agency? My heart plummets as the wheels of fate begin to turn.
5
Jared
* * *
I stare at the young woman as she steps into my house hesitantly. Yes, it’s definitely her - the incredibly fuckable woman from last night that I belly-danced with. Although it seems impossible, she looks even hotter in her ass-hugging jeans and scoop-neck tank top tonight. The tight red number does little to hide her massive tits, and in fact, makes them look even more lush and huge. She isn’t wearing any makeup and I swear to god she might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Marcy runs a hand through her thick brown hair and the memory of grabbing her by those curly locks while I fucked her comes rushing back to me. My pants grow unexpectedly tight, and I shift from foot to foot, incensed by the effect this young woman has on me because this should not be happening. My sex life and my family life do not intersect, so what the fuck is going on? This is a city with sixteen million people, so what are the chances that I would bump into her again?
It seems Marcy is just as flustered because she bites her lip and then jerks her head up to stare at me.
“I didn’t know you were the client,” she blurts abruptly, her face the color of an apple. “I mean, I didn’t know that you were my client tonight although obviously I knew that you were my client last night.”
“It’s fine,” I say in a low voice. “Come on, let’s talk about it in the living room.”
I show her into the adjoining living space, and we both take seats on one of the couches.
“Um,” Marcy begins again, quieter this time. “I didn’t mean… I am discreet, about everything.” Her brown eyes flit in the direction of the rest of the house. “I understand how the NDAs work and of course, I signed one as part of my Sanctum employment agreement,” she says in a low voice.
I nod.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that but we’ve kind of barreled ahead without even making introductions. First things first. I’m Jared Michaels,” I say in a low voice, extending my hand. “And you’re Marcy Hobbs. It seems we know each other already.”