On the Steamy Side (14 page)

“Son of a bitch,” Devon swore, knocking a barstool sideways. It skidded across the polished wood floor with an ugly noise, and Lilah flinched.

“Stop it,” she hissed at him. “You think he’s going to come out with you cussing and knocking the furniture to pieces?”

“Come out of where?” Devon demanded, pulling his iPhone from his back pocket. “The kid’s gone. We have to call the cops.”

“He’s not gone,” Lilah insisted, starting to look tearful. “He’s just scared. And you’re not helping.” You big brute was how she wanted to end that sentence, Devon could tell.

Hanging onto his precarious patience, Devon flipped through his wallet for the card Officer What’s-Her-Name had given him earlier. He punched in the number and held his phone to his ear, glaring at Lilah the whole time.

“Officer . . .” He glanced back at the card. “Santiago?”

Out of nowhere, a small body hurtled through the restaurant like a Lilah-seeking missile and attached itself to her legs.

Surprise rounding her mouth to a perfect O, Lilah reached a hand down to Tucker’s messy hair.

“I don’t wanna go with the cops,” Tucker wailed, face scrunched, eyes and nose streaming. Jesus, Devon thought through the crashing adrenaline in his bloodstream. At least the kid comes by his dramatic streak honestly.

“Hello? Hello?” came the tinny, cold voice of Officer Santiago in Devon’s ear.

“Wrong number,” he said hastily, hitting the “end” button on the touch screen.

Tucker, not seeming to realize that he was in no imminent danger of being led off in handcuffs, continued to cling to Lilah’s legs and cry.

Devon watched, feeling helpless. He didn’t much enjoy the sensation.

“Oh, sugar,” Lilah crooned, curling her body over Tucker’s protectively. Devon marked it down for future reference—Lilah Jane was a sucker for tears.

“Where were you?” she continued, her voice soft and low. “We looked and looked; it was as if you vanished.”

Tucker pulled himself together enough to point to the corner banquette. It was a round booth with an oval six-top at the end of a wall lined with regular four-top booths. Devon looked more closely and saw a narrow crevice where the square and round booths didn’t match up perfectly. Holy shit. He wouldn’t have given good odds on a rat’s chance of wedging itself in there, much less a ten-year-old boy.

“Why didn’t you come out when we called?” Lilah wanted to know.

“I thought . . .” Tucker got off his knees and wiped his face with the side of his fist. It didn’t escape Devon’s notice that he stayed pinned to Lilah’s side, though. Like he was looking to her for comfort because he was afraid.

Afraid of Devon.

Smacked between the eyes by that little revelation, Devon almost missed Tucker’s explanation.

“I wanted to wait till everyone left. I wanted to go to the train station.”

“For what?” Lilah asked, bewilderment clear in her tone.

Tucker shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms over his chest.

The confusion cleared from Lilah’s pretty face. Sympathy warmed her eyes to the color of summer leaves in Central Park.

“You wanted to find your mom, huh?” she said quietly.

Devon locked eyes with his son for a brief moment. That one look told him everything he needed to know.

Without waiting for Tucker’s confirming nod, Devon turned on his heel and walked a few paces away.

He pulled out his phone to complete the image of a polite man trying not to allow his cell phone conversation to disturb others.

If he waited through several long, deep breaths before he dialed his driver’s familiar number, well, that was no one’s concern but Devon’s.

Dimly, he was aware of Lilah behind him lecturing Tucker on safety and consideration for others, and reassuring him that he didn’t need to run away. This was only for a few weeks and then his mom would be back.

Devon closed his eyes and blocked out everything but the sound of his own clipped voice giving Paolo the order to come pick them up.

Well, if that didn’t just rip your heart right out. Lilah ran her fingers through Tucker’s tangled waves and tried to get her pulse to stop leaping around like a frightened doe.

Tucker had cried himself out. He sat slumped in the barstool next to hers, lashes forming dark crescents on his cheeks. His head rested on the bar, his breathing deep and even.

Lilah watched him sleep and felt a fury she’d never before experienced welling in her throat like a scream waiting to come out.

The good Lord alone knew what could’ve happened to him out there. Such a little boy, for all that he acted so tough. Only a baby, really—he’d wanted to get to his mother. That was all he knew.

Because his father could barely even call him by name, much less take an active role in his life.

Lilah still didn’t know all the specifics—although she’d be darned sure she got the scoop from Grant—

but she knew enough from her own personal observations to hope like heck that Tucker’s mother was a steady, loving presence in Tucker’s life. That DWI and rehab business didn’t give Lilah tons of hope, but she was prepared to reserve judgment on Heather Sorensen.

On Devon? Not so much.

The man was pacing by the front door, watching out for his car and driver to arrive. He hadn’t so much as spoken to Tucker when they found him.

“So what’s going to happen when your big, fancy car gets here?” Devon turned and fixed her with an emotionless stare. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she hissed, jabbing a finger in Tucker’s direction, “are you ready to take him on all by yourself? Since you haven’t even looked at him in the last fifteen minutes, I thought I should check.”

“Why should I look at him? I’ve hired you to do that for me. Which answers your other question. When the car gets here, we’re all getting in it, going to my apartment, and going to bed.” Lilah felt flames leaping up the sides of her face. “Oh, no. You hired me to take care of Tucker—my fee does not include taking care of you, too.”

She resolutely ignored the memory of his skin against hers, wet and hot from that sinful shower.

Devon’s eyes shuttered, making them at once mysterious and seductive. “I assume you’re objecting to the notion that I expect you to ‘take care’ of me in the sack. I assure you, that’s not the case. You’ll have your pick of guest bedrooms for the duration of your stay.” Lilah struggled with that for a moment. On the surface, there was nothing wrong with what Devon was proposing. A live-in nanny, that was a thing, right? And it made sense for their situation, because of the late hours Devon would be putting in at Market. Lilah didn’t really want to be trekking all the way down to Grant’s Chelsea apartment after midnight every night, anyway.

But some innate, feminine sense of caution warned Lilah against putting herself in close proximity to Devon Sparks for any length of time.

That innate sense was proved right when Devon left his post by the door. Perched on her stool, Lilah fought down the tremor that wanted to take her limbs when Devon prowled closer and closer.

He stalked her down until his broad-shouldered, lean-hipped body warmed the air that touched Lilah’s skin. Staring up into his unbelievably gorgeous face, Lilah tried hard to hold onto the anger she still felt over Devon’s handling of his son.

“I don’t know if I want to live with a man who can’t manage to teach his son basic manners like not running off and worrying people sick,” Lilah said breathlessly.

Devon’s eyes flashed with need. “I haven’t had much of a chance to teach the kid anything,” he said, his voice heated and raspy in the silent restaurant. “And I’m not sure I’d be very good at giving lessons in manners. I could probably use a refresher course myself.”

“That’s true enough,” Lilah said, sucking in air when Devon’s hand came up to rest lightly, delicately, on her shoulder. The one point of contact burned like a lightning strike.

“If you come to stay with us,” Devon said, sliding the hand down her arm to circle her elbow briefly before continuing its path to clasp her hand, “you can boss us both around to your heart’s content.” Their fingers interlaced, palm to palm, and for some reason, the simple hold made tears spring to Lilah’s eyes. It had to be the lingering effects of an emotional day, she reasoned, trying to get her mental engine to turn over.

Clearing her throat, Lilah disentangled her fingers. “That, Mr. Sparks, is an offer I can’t refuse. But just so we’re clear. I am not Jane Eyre. And you’re for darn sure not Mr. Rochester.” His lips quirked. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m not going to fall in love with you,” Lilah said baldly. “And there’s not going to be any hanky panky, either. I’m there for Tucker’s sake, not yours.”

“Fair enough.”

Lilah breathed out a sigh of relief, oddly tinged with disappointment she didn’t want to analyze. “So you’ll respect my wishes?”

“Oh, I respect you,” Devon said, one corner of his mouth kicking up in a way that sent shivers cascading down Lilah’s spine.

He leaned closer. His voice was pure, unadulterated wickedness breathed into her ear. “But just so we’re clear? I have every intention of doing my damnedest to seduce you, charm you, and woo you until all you want is to be under me again. In the shower, in my bed, on my kitchen floor—I’m not through with you yet, Lilah Jane. And I don’t think you’re through with me, either. Not by a long shot.” They stared at each other for a long moment until a discreet knock at the restaurant’s locked door startled Devon out of it.

“The car’s here,” he told her. “Can you get Tucker?”

Paolo opened the rear passenger door and came forward to help Lilah negotiate the sleeping child into the car while Devon locked the restaurant behind them.

Jingling the keys in his pocket, Devon stood on the restaurant steps, reluctant to turn around. What if he’d scared her off? What if he’d pushed too hard and she was even now handing Tucker over to Paolo and walking away?

Man up, Devon.

The surge of happiness and relief he felt when he turned to find her already situated in the car, his sleeping son’s head in her lap, compelled Devon to confront the fact that he was already counting on Lilah’s presence too much. And for too many reasons.

Yes, he wanted her, and while the scope of that desire was unexpected, the physical desire itself was familiar and un-threatening. Devon had wanted—and gotten—many women before Lilah, and he was sure there’d be many after her.

What troubled him as he approached the sleek, black car was the extent to which his heart warmed and swelled at the sight of Lilah Jane cradling Tucker’s small body against hers.

They looked safe and happy together, a pretty picture by anyone’s standards, and Devon almost couldn’t bear to get in the car with them and spoil it.

His presence, he felt obscurely, would taint the picture somehow.

And that’s when he realized that as much as Tucker might hate and fear his father, Devon was just as scared of his own kid.

The interior of the car smelled just as she remembered it from the night before, like leather and money. The backseat was roomier than it seemed like it should be for anything other than a minivan; there was room for Tucker to curl up next to Lilah and snuffle back into sleep.

Beside her, Devon radiated heat. Lilah tried not to squirm. His thigh wasn’t actually touching hers, she knew. The bench seat was wide enough that there was ample room for everyone. Still, every hair on her body seemed to stand at attention.

Devon wanted her. For more than a single night. He wanted her enough to risk having her walk out on him and leave him alone with his son—an eventuality Devon was clearly keen to avoid.

Too keen.

Keeping her voice low and even, Lilah broke the silence gripping the car. “Not that I mind carrying Tucker, technically it’s probably in the job description, but is there a reason you didn’t want to?

Because the way you keep him at arm’s length is starting to make me feel like a wet hen. As in ‘madder than a.’ ”

A muscle ticced in Devon’s chiseled jaw. It was the only sign he gave that he’d even heard her, and if she hadn’t been watching for it she’d have missed it.

Lilah wondered if she were truly prepared to be fired twice in one night. A soft sigh from Tucker as the dead weight of his head put her leg to sleep helped make up her mind.

“I swear. If it weren’t for the fact that I know deep down you want your son to stay with you, I’d have headed for the subway and taken Tucker to Grant’s apartment, boss man.” Devon snorted at that. “Sure. My deep-down, carefully masked goodness—and the fact that you have no desire to be arrested for kidnapping.”

There was that.

“Besides,” Devon said, all scrumptious heat and temptation beside her, “I thought we agreed you were going to be the boss.”

Lilah tossed her head, trying to get her curls to wisp some direction other than directly into her eyes.

“Deflect all you want; I don’t hear you denying you wanted Tucker with you. And if you were so desperate to avoid custody, you could’ve let the officer take him away. Or give him to your parents.” Devon lounged back in his seat, every muscle in his long, lean body apparently relaxed. But when he shot her a glance, it was full of shadows.

“My parents,” he scoffed. “Shit. My loving parents have never even come to eat at one of my restaurants. They—well, my dad. He never wanted me to be a chef. The fact that I made a bigger success of my life than he ever did? That’s just salt in the wound. And anyway, think of the scandal.

Heather and I were never married. Trust me, my parents aren’t going to be rushing to introduce their bastard grandson to the whole neighborhood.”

“Keep your voice down,” Lilah hissed, covering Tucker’s ear with her hand. “That’s an ugly thing to say.

And he doesn’t need to hear any more about how no one wants him.” Devon’s jaw went to granite. “He’s sleeping like a rock. If moving from the restaurant to the car didn’t wake him up, nothing will.”

“That’s not the point and you know it.” Lilah was having a hard time expressing her outrage in a whisper. “What is wrong with you? He’s a little boy, not an inconvenience.”