Curves for the Single Dad

“Still. Lila and I both want you to have this.” He handed me a gift bag with a small card inside. “They have to make them and they’ll ship them to you in about a week.”

The photo was four cider mugs with a pumpkin police officer on the front, in four different poses. “Oh wow, what a great gift!” It was a sweet gift and I was truly touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Chris.”

“Thanks for the soup. And cookies.” He flashed a smile that held a bit more than platonic gratitude and I was determined to ignore it. “And thanks for the memories for Lila.”

Dammit, his sincerity was a lot harder to ignore than the heat in his gaze. “My pleasure.” Our gazes connected for a long, heated moment, made even longer by the fact that Lila slumbered quietly at my side.

Eventually it was Chris who looked away and I was grateful. “Want to help me get our loot to the car?”

“Sure.” I stood and grabbed the container of cookies and the other filled with soup while he grabbed his daughter. Together we made our way out to his car, one of those hybrid SUV things that didn’t know what it wanted to be, a truck or a car.

He looked very fatherly and too damn handsome as he settled Lila into the backseat with such tenderness. It was attractive as hell and I took a step back as my arms and legs started to tingle, arousal settled low in my belly.

“Thanks.” He flashed a smile that was as wholesome as it was panty-melting.

“Anytime.” I gave an awkward wave and made my way backinside. Where it was safe.

Far, far, away from Chris and his masculine wiles.

Chris

“Chris! My man, tell me you’ve got more words for me?”

Tom’s excitement echoed down the phone line and I couldn’t help but smile, even if it was yet another interruption when I’d planned several hours of uninterrupted writing time.

“I could tell you that, if you stopped calling me every day.” He’d called every day since Monday, today making the sixth day in a row.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is it tiring to keep hearing how talented you are? How much more money you’ll make with this new series? And that’s based solely on the words you’ve already sent.” Tom barked out a laugh. “I’m just calling to say keep going because this shit is good. Whatever you need to get the job done, I’m here. The publisher is creaming over this hot female investigator with a big brain and enough cynicism for your readers.”

“You said that already.” Almost every time he called, as a matter of fact.

“That’s because its true. Everyone is relieved that the new series will be even better than the last one, me most of all. You need a babysitter for Lila?”

“No, she’s at her Future Officers Training program today. Which is exactly why I thought I’d be so busy writing this morning and into the afternoon.”

Tom sighed and I could just imagine him shaking his head, a sly smile on his face. “Yeah, yeah. I can take a hint. But first just tell me one thing.”

I sat back in my seat and blew out a breath. “What?”

“Who is the hot new investigator chick based on? Because I know she’s not just a figment of your twisted imagination.”

“Goodbye, Tom.” I ended the call and reread the section I was working on before Tom’s call and frowned, because the woman was familiar. A little too familiar right down to her thick brown hair and big green eyes. I knew I would have to change it before the book was published, but for now, Tara was the perfect inspiration for the protagonist. Even though I had a feeling she wouldn’t be as flattered by that fact as most other women.

In fact, I was pretty sure she’d kill me if she realized what I’d done.

That didn’t stop me from spending the next hour and a half immersed in the new story. Getting the feel for the antagonist and why he did the things he did, figuring out all the little quirks of my as yet unnamed female investigator. My fingers tingled at the tips, a sure sign that I was on a roll. The smile on my face didn’t waver, didn’t break, as I typed and typed, created new characters for my readers to fall in love with, knowing they wouldn’t make it to the end of the story.

It was an exhilarating afternoon of writing, and by the time my bullhorn alarm sounded to remind me that Lila needed to be picked up, I was only sad about stopping because I’d made so much progress. But Lila was my priority as much as my writing was,.

And change into something more presentable than sweatpants and a lightly stained t-shirt. Five minutes later I found myself walking into an almost empty room, where Lila and Tara were deep in conversation.