The Wrong Man (Alpha Men 3)

God, he desperately wanted to kiss her!

He averted his eyes and shifted uncomfortably, willing his unwelcome erection away. This was highly inconvenient; she was supposed to be growing more sexually aware of him, not vice versa. He forced himself to push away the memory of her beautiful, soft mouth planting sweet kisses all over his naked chest and ran an embarrassingly shaky hand through his hair. It needed cutting—maybe he could convince Lia to do it for him. He nearly groaned at the thought, the idea of her hands in his hair and on his scalp sending a shudder of anticipatory pleasure down his spine.

Rein it in, for fuck’s sake! he commanded himself sternly. This was getting ridiculous.

“I didn’t know you played the piano,” he heard himself say and was grateful that his lizard brain had kicked in and his fight instinct had flickered to life. He really couldn’t continue to sit here mutely fantasizing about stripping that prim little dress from her neatly proportioned body and fucking her senseless. It was adolescent and uncouth.

“I’m a passable player, nothing special. I’m the only one available to do it at this time of the day,” she said with a shrug, grabbing her handbag and letting herself out of the car. Sam fumbled with his seat belt and the door handle, and by the time he staggered out of the car, she was halfway up the path toward the building. She set the car alarm when she heard his door close, not bothering to turn and check if he was following her.

A little disgruntled by this lack of concern, Sam felt his brow lower into an irritable scowl but continued to follow her like a lost puppy. He wasn’t used to having so little control over a situation, and for some reason he’d expected Lia to be fawning all over his injured ass. In fact, he’d placed bets with himself that he’d be irritated with her fretting less than halfway through the day. She struck him as a fusser . . . but there’d been nary a fuss in sight all morning. And Sam irrationally found himself irritated by the absence of what he now considered his due.

He shook his head and grumbled beneath his breath as he trudged up to where she stood waiting by the door. Oh, okay, scratch that, she wasn’t waiting, the door was opening and she was totally going inside . . . without him.

For fuck’s sake!

He hastened his pace and caught up before the door shut in his face. A pretty young woman, with complex-looking cornrows and wearing what looked like a nurse’s uniform, smiled at him questioningly.

“I’m with her.” He nodded toward Lia, who was chatting with another uniformed woman a few paces ahead of them. What was this place? The woman—her name tag identified her as Prudence Magubane—quirked her head as she assessed him.

“With Lia?” she asked.

“The one and only,” he affirmed, and her smile widened.

“Welcome to Sunset Manor. We’re glad you can join us for the afternoon musicale. Our residents will be so pleased to see a new face.”

Residents?

“Happy to be here, I’m sure,” he said gallantly, while wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. He nodded at Prudence before hastening to catch up with Lia.

“Please be nice,” she said beneath her breath once he was beside her, and he frowned, a little insulted by her comment. He’d never aspired to be nice in his life, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to be an arsehole, for God’s sake. What did she take him for? Some callow misanthrope without any social graces? He could lay on the charm when he wanted to. She knew that better than most.

“I don’t do nice, princess. I do charming, charismatic, sexy, fascinating—”

“Conceited,” she interrupted.

“I would have gone with honest,” he said, laying it on thick.

“All right, fine. Be charming and charismatic. Just don’t be dismissive, okay?” she said, stopping outside a pair of large, closed double doors. A sign above the doors read CAFETERIA in bold letters. She threw back her shoulders without a further word and pushed the doors open. Sam followed and came to a complete standstill just inside the room.

The cafeteria was filled with senior citizens. Men and women whose ages appeared to range from sixty-five to ninety, maybe older. They were all dressed to the nines, and they all greeted Lia exuberantly. Lia was smiling, that huge, beautiful, open smile that he had last seen at her sister’s wedding. It had captivated him then and did the same now. He couldn’t take his eyes off her beaming face as she greeted everybody by name, asking after grandchildren, pets, and ailments.

This wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting, and while half of him wanted to flee before the silver brigade caught sight of him, the other half just wanted to stare at her and bask in all that warmth and radiance.