Heiress for Hire (Cuttersville #2)(48)
Author: Erin McCarthy

But tonight, she had decided none of that mattered, and that she was going to enjoy her time with Piper. Her time with Danny.

"Do you think I’ll be able to paint the second coat tomorrow?"

"Yep. Then Brady can get started on the butterflies the day after."

"Cool." Amanda put the butter back in the fridge. "When is your appointment with the school counselor?"

"Tuesday of next week. She’ll assess Piper. It’s too bad we don’t have the records from her previous school, but they wouldn’t release them for me until I have custody."

"How long will that take?"

"We’re going straight to the clinic after the appointment at the school to have the blood drawn. I wasn’t going to tell Piper what the blood was for. I didn’t want her to worry that maybe I’m not her biological father." Danny dropped silverware in the basket and shook his head. "I know the tests will tell the truth—I’m her father. But if she knows, she’ll just worry until the results come back, which won’t be for a week or so. Do you think it’s wrong to lie to her?"

Amanda thought Danny had the most amazing natural instincts for being a parent. He thought things through, from every angle, and he always, always put Piper first. "I think that it’s not lying. It’s simply not telling the whole truth, and you’re right. There is no reason to give her something to worry about."

It should have felt odd, to walk over to Danny and stroke his cheek, but it didn’t when Amanda did. "Trust yourself, Danny. You know what you’re doing."

His arms came around her. He sighed. "Thank you. For everything. All of this has been a lot easier because of you."

Standing in his small kitchen, surrounded by cheap flatware and Danny’s big farmer arms should have felt weird. Like she’d fallen into someone else’s life, or done a reality show switcheroo. But it felt more real than anything she’d ever done in her life.

Nothing artificial, nothing stylish. Nothing artfully arranged, nothing designer.

Just a sense of contentment with a man she trusted more than any she’d ever known before.

Dangerous, scary, bad thoughts that could get her into serious trouble. But she didn’t care. She just wanted to absorb the moment, revel in it, roll the feelings over her so later on, she could pull them back out of her memory and remember that there were good men in the universe, though few and far between. So when she was dating men who thought manual labor was slicing the gouda cheese, she would remember that there were men who sweated for the food on their table.

So she could remember Danny when it was impossible for her to see him again.

He patted her butt in that friendly, affectionate way he had. "You’ve been a big help, Amanda."

"Since we’re passing out certificates of appreciation, thank you for trusting me with Piper. Giving me a job." Then because she was in danger of feeling a little sappy, emotions a bit too close to the surface, she added, "And for trusting me in your home with a paint roller, even though you knew I had no clue what I was doing."

He gave a soft chuckle. Kissed her lightly. Reached into a drawer.

A drawer? Amanda pulled back. She happened to know the oven mitts were kept in there. O-kay. Somehow she’d never pictured Danny having a Betty Crocker fetish.

Until she saw he had a box of condoms in his hand.

"You keep condoms in the oven mitt drawer? I would have thought your dresser would make more sense."

He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes, which was just adorable. He was embarrassed. "Well, uh, I threw them in there and forgot to move them."

"Whatever. Yay you for even remembering them. I don’t have any." She’d dumped the remaining few she had in the pile of Logan’s belongings that she had tossed out of her apartment into the hallway. When he had run swearing after his wallet, she had closed the door and locked it.

It had been satisfying, but not nearly as funny as it would have been if he’d been naked. But he had pulled his shorts on after sex, so he could call his girlfriend on his cell phone while Amanda had been in the shower. Fortunately, she had forgotten her new apricot body scrub and had stepped out of the bathroom and caught his duplicitous conversation.

Not that she wanted to remember her humiliation with Logan when she was with Danny.

"So let’s go use one or two."

Danny didn’t say anything. He just took her hand, turned around, and pulled her out of the kitchen, across the living room, down the short hall. She wanted to say something, to crack a joke, to laugh seductively, to tug her hand out of his. But her heart was thumping hard and her mouth was dry.

Nothing witty was rattling around in her nervous brain so she just followed him, the only sound her flip-flops slapping on the carpet.

Her dusting duties didn’t include Danny’s bedroom. She had walked by a hundred times when the door was open and had never given it much more than a cursory glance. It was like the rest of the house—functional, but lacking in decor. There was a bed, unmade, plaid sheets glaring at her. A dresser with two drawers half open. A fan blowing on high. Lots of dirty shoes lying around, and several crumpled-up pairs of jeans. The closet was open, revealing—surprise!—more denim and enough T-shirts to suggest he needed a support group for cotton addicts.

"It’s not much," he said, kicking two pairs of shoes under the bed.

"It’s fine. But if you ever want to get in touch with your inner-decorator, let me know. I’ll guide you." Amanda kicked her flip-flops off by the door.

"I don’t have an inner-decorator. That wouldn’t leave any room for beer."

She would not laugh. That would only encourage him. But even as she covered her mouth with her hand, she couldn’t stop a wheezy sort of chuckle from slipping out. That petered out when Danny stripped off his shirt and let it drop to the floor.

"Take that shirt off, Amanda. I just want to feel you." He wasn’t waiting for her, but was tugging at her shirt, lifting it over her br**sts.

Which reminded her of her shortcomings. "There isn’t a lot of me to feel. I’m optimistically an A cup. I would buy training bras for the fit if they didn’t have those goofy little pink bows on them."

And why was she doing that? Warning him, turning her chest into a joke. Being defensive, revealing herself to be needy. Now he would feel obligated to give her a compliment. Or worse, tell her it was okay, he couldn’t ask for everything.

He did neither. He just ripped off her shirt. Then popped open her bra and stuck his mouth right on her nipple and gave it a suck.

No talking. Good plan. Amanda dug her fingers into his back. Then promptly dropped them. Logan had said she was a back scratcher and that it was annoying.