Taming His Tutor

“Brooke and I didn’t get to spend much time together as kids.” He balanced the balls in his hands on auto. “We were separated not long after our mom left. A family wanted her, but not me. Usually the social workers don’t like to break up siblings but in this case… They thought it would be better for Brooke to go.”

Abbi just didn’t know what to say to that. A million questions went through her head but she so wasn’t going to ask them. That must have been hideous. To have been separated? To be the one who hadn’t been wanted? But one question slipped out anyway. “How old were you?”

“Five.”

She gaped. “How could they not want you, too?”

“Oh I dunno.” He forced out a laugh. “I guess I was too much boy. I was always stupidly tall. I looked older. Didn’t act older though. I acted my age. So I didn’t live up to expectations people had.”

“Unfair expectations,” Abbi pointed out.

He shrugged. “Don’t look so horrified.” He tossed one of the balls to her. “It turned out I was the luckier one. But she never told me.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Never once told me.”

“Told you what?”

He sighed and then threw the other ball right across the room, where it hit the wall with a loud smack and then bounced on the floor. He turned back to look at her, his eyes hot, angry. “That family looked so fucking perfect. All apple pie and health insurance. And Brooke was the prettiest girl. I thought she was living the fairy tale, you know? Abandoned girl gets picked by the best and lives happily ever after. But they weren’t the best. And she’d never once admitted how bad it was for her. Not for years and years. Not to me.” He choked the words out. “But I saw the bruises on her arm when we had a scheduled visit one time.” He grimaced.

Oh, dear Lord. Poor Brooke. Poor Joe.

“And what happened?”

“I confronted her. Stormed around there acting the big little brother and decked the father. Brooke was livid. Screamed at me. She didn’t want me interfering in her life. It was her business and she could handle it. So…” He shut his mouth, his jaw more chiseled than ever.

“Oh, Joe.”

“Forget it. It’s old history.”

Was it, really? Not when she’d seen the way he’d looked at her. The only family he had and they didn’t even wave across a bar?

“You should talk to her.”

He shook his head. “She’s fine now. She’s better off without me. I’m okay. It’s all good.”

But Abbi wasn’t letting this drop just yet. She hugged the ball close to her stomach. “Why couldn’t she have come to stay with you and the Burnses? Wouldn’t they have welcomed her?”

He bent his head, his chest rising and falling fast like he was speeding up and down the gym. But he wasn’t. He was still. “Trouble with that was things with the Burnses weren’t so good for me, either. Not by then.” He jerked his head up, caught the appalled expression that crossed her face. “Oh, they never lashed out. At least, Ted and Brigit didn’t. But Zach…”

Abbi remembered Zach. Total jock. Ruler of the school sporting scene. Until Joe had arrived. Joe, who’d had more raw talent in his little finger than any of the others put together.

“He resented your success.” Abbi bit her lip. What a mess it must have been.

“Hated it. Hated me. And fair enough. I stole his scholarship. And encroached on his home. I don’t blame him.”

“I had no idea.” But then, why would she? She’d been studying like mad, heading off for math Olympiads and teen-coder conventions.

“Brigit and Ted sat me down, said they thought it might be best if I moved into the boarding house for the rest of the school year. They were right, of course—their family was better off if I wasn’t there. And it suited me. I spent every spare second at basketball camp. Every weekend. Every holiday.”

Her heart tore. She ached to help somehow. Which was stupid because Joe didn’t want help. He just wanted easy times and carefree fun.

Well, she reckoned she was coming to grips with that. Maybe she was the one going to take the tone back to sex this time. “You know how you said I could ask anything?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’d really like to skinny-dip in your pool, that okay?” She swallowed. “I’ve never swum naked.”

He looked down at her with surprise. “I’d really like to watch you.”

She giggled as he led her over to the door that led to the pool and opened it for her. She shimmied out of her dress and bra and, a moment later, dived in. “Oooh,” she squealed as she surfaced. It was cooler than she’d expected.

He laughed. “People don’t like it too warm when they’re swimming laps.”

“You’re not going to come in?” She smiled back up at him, so glad to see him looking more relaxed. She wanted to splash with him.

“No.” He stood at the edge of the pool. “I never learned to swim until I was an adult, and it’s still not really my thing. The shower, on the other hand…”

“Okay,” she murmured. Yeah, she knew how he liked a shower. But his words tugged her heart—what else had he missed out on as a kid? What had happened to him in all that time before he got to her school?

Had it been rejection after rejection? No wonder he’d played so ferociously on the basketball court. Like his whole life was at stake. It pretty much was.

He stood silent, watching her. She didn’t like that distanced look in his eyes. She wanted playful Joe back. “What about the spa?” she suggested. “Would you like to spend some time relaxing in that?”

His signature grin reappeared. “There’s not enough lubrication if you’re right underwater. And for you to take me, you need lubrication.”

Oh my. There was no point in her trying to be suggestive; he’d top her every time. She slithered over to the edge of the pool.

“It’s my turn for a fantasy,” he muttered as he reached down and hauled her out of the water. “I’m going to fuck you on the floor of the gym in front of the mirrors.”

Her nose wrinkled. She really didn’t want to see her bits wobbling. But she hooked her wet and slippery legs around his waist anyway. “That’s not a good fantasy.”

He laughed and hauled her close. “It is from where I stand.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Don’t dominate the conversation.”

Just after midday the next day, Joe pushed his chair away from his desk and looked longingly out the window at the blue sky. Sitting still and doing paperwork wasn’t his thing. He wondered what Abbi was doing. How long had she been sitting at her computer screen already? It was probably time she had a break from it.

He’d gotten through the morning classes and his first business meeting okay, but Abbi was never far from his mind. But now she was almost the only thing on his mind. He wanted to see her.

But if he was going to play this as easy and light as always, he needed to step back. Too much time together would lead to too much intimacy of the wrong kind—the emotional kind. He knew it worked that way for women, and knew he had to avoid it to keep this okay.

Had he really spilled his guts like that? Telling her things he’d never told anyone—crossing that border from physical intimacy into emotional. Which wasn’t smart. She was too damn easy to talk to. So serene. She didn’t judge. And she’d looked so hurt when she’d caught him looking at Brooke—when she’d thought he was checking out another woman. He couldn’t let her go on thinking it. Couldn’t leave her alone. He’d had to speak, to settle her.

Except she was so quiet about her own life it was almost secretive. And damn it, that wasn’t fair.

He’d never talked to anyone about what those years prior to moving in with the Burns family were like, when he’d gone from one group foster home to another. He’d never talked about the heartbreak of the occasional visit from Brooke, where he looked at the pretty sister who’d grown more and more distant as each visit went by. Or the bitterness and disappointment when Ted Burns had sat

him down and told him it was best if they put him into the boarding hostel at school instead of staying with them at the one home he’d thought he might finally settle into.

Yet he’d talked to Abbi—told her almost the worst thing ever. His heartbreak over what had happened to Brooke. And that stuff the other night about how anxious he’d been when he’d first moved to her school.

He closed his eyes. Regretting it. Because he’d seen the horror in her eyes and he so did not want pity. He was pleased with how his life had turned out. He’d played in the NBA for fuck’s sake.

He’d worked so freaking hard. But he was happy with his life. He’d done okay. More than okay. He didn’t even curse the injury that ended his pro basketball career after only a couple of seasons. There were other things he needed to do. But relationships weren’t part of that.

Yeah. He needed a time out. He still had a week to get the rest of her lessons in. A couple of days’ break would be good.

Except, even as he made that decision, he reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone. He had to let her know, right? Or she’d get all angsty and insecure and he didn’t want to do that to her. She needed the lesson schedule.

What about the art of the flirt-by-text? You game to practice?

He sent the text and waited.

I’m not sending you a sexy pic.

He chuckled at her instant response.

Why not? It could be a good part of your game plan. Tantalize me.

Smiling, he waited again. Again, not for long.

Words are better.

Yes and no. He still ached for the picture. Actually, he ached for the real thing. Not just to look at, not even just to hold. And like she said, words were better.

He wanted to talk to her.

But even as he tried to remind himself about his priorities, his fingers slipped over the touch screen of his phone.

“Hey Joe.”

Pleasure filled him at her rapid answer. At the slight breathiness in her voice.

“How’s your day going?” he asked. Lame.