Accidental Fiancé (Unintentionally Yours #5)

18. Julian

Chapter 18

Julian

“ I thought Maggie was gonna read to me,” Piper said as I tucked her in.

As if I needed another dagger in the heart. “She had to go help a friend. I'm sorry, sweetie. Do you want me to read to you?”

“No.” But her dismayed tone said otherwise.

“I don't mind.”

“Being read to at bedtime is kid stuff.”

“Well, that's okay because you're a kid.”

Still, she shook her head. “I was gonna let Maggie read to me because she wanted to. Not because I needed it.”

“I see. Well, do you mind if I want to read to you?” Please, kid, I need a win today.

“Okay.”

I scanned through her books and picked one of my old favorites—The Cat in the Hat. She was asleep before Thing 1 and Thing 2 arrived. I wasn't sure why I liked the book so much. Looking at it from an adult standpoint, it was kind of ridiculous. But maybe that was why I liked it.

Things had always been so serious when I was a child. My mother hadn't been able to live her best life until after my father died, and it bothered me to think the same was true for me. Sure, we were a version of upper-crust destitute after his death, but things worked out in the end. My father could be a difficult man. Some days, I worshipped the ground he walked on, and other days, I couldn't stand to look at him. Maybe it was just that way between fathers and sons.

I kissed Piper's forehead and tucked her in a little tighter before leaving the room. I would do whatever it took to make sure that we never had that kind of relationship. It was hard not to spoil her, and I knew I did a bad job of it. But she was silly and fun, an easygoing little girl. I wanted to nurture all of that in her. I wanted her to have the childhood that I wished I'd been able to have.

If that meant reading The Cat in the Hat until she fell asleep so be it. I wanted her to have an active imagination full of whimsical and silly dreams. Everyone needed a little of that in their lives.

When Maggie walked in the door, I knew right away how much I needed it. Though maybe calling it walking was a little generous; she more like stumbled through the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” She leaned on the kitchen island.

I could smell the cheap whiskey on her from five feet away. “You didn't drive home like that, did you?”

“And what if I did? What's it to you?”

“Maggie, come on?—"

“I didn't,” she interrupted me. “I don't do that. Nora drove me.”

“She didn't want to come in?”

“Pfft.” A curly strand fell in front of her eyes, and she tried to blow it back into place, failing. I leaned in and tucked it behind her ear. She recoiled a full ten seconds later. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry, I was just trying to help.”

“You don't get to do that kind of thing. You're not my boyfriend.”

Just what I needed to hear. “I never said I was. I was just trying to help you out, Maggie.”

“Why?”

“Because when my hair gets a little long and falls in front of my forehead it bothers me.”

“No, not that.” Her coffee-brown eyes held warmth again, and I felt less left out in the cold. “Why do you help me?”

“Because you’re my friend. That's what friends do.”

For a long moment she stared at the scar in my eyebrow. I held my breath. What had Nora told her?

Finally she said, “You should have more scars. They suit you. You're too pretty otherwise.”

I laughed, both relieved and because what she said was funny. “Sorry, almost all my scars are emotional. Hard to see those.”

“Not really.” Maggie stepped over to me. I felt her heat through her clothes. She drew a line with her finger down my jaw. “There's a scar here.”

Her touch made it impossible to breathe. “I don't have a scar there.”

“Yeah, you do. When you get mad, you clinch right here.”

“I don’t think?—"

She placed her palm over my heart. “You have one here, too.”

I swallowed hard, certain she could feel how hard my heart was pounding. “More than one.”

“Why am I here, Julian?”

A tricky question. “In what capacity do you mean?”

“Why me? Why this?”

“We're just two friends helping each other out.” The words sounded as hollow as they felt.

“And this business arrangement makes things easier, right?”

No . “Right.”

“I'm sorry about earlier. I know I reacted badly but I'm doing better now. I'd like it if we could put all of that behind us. This is a business arrangement. Basically, we're colleagues.”

Why did it gut me to hear her say that, when that was exactly what I wanted? I cleared my throat. “Right. Colleagues.”

“We had a little indiscretion. It was fun but it's over. Now we can move on to the business part of things.” She poked my chest with her pointer finger then sat down, almost toppling her chair over before sitting properly.

The distance helped me clear my head. “Where are you going with this?”

“Nora says I should get all of this in writing. Our arrangement, that is. And I think she's right. I mean, if we're gonna keep this to a business professional relationship, then we should have some set rules. A written contract.”

This was getting worse. “That sounds like a great idea. That way, we can agree on terms.”

“Exactly,” she said, gesturing emphatically. “I'd like to talk pay.”

“Are you sure you don't want your lawyer present?”

She drew her finger down the kitchen island. “Somehow, I don't think you're gonna screw me on this.”

And now I wanted to screw her on the kitchen island. I rasped, “What do you have in mind, Maggie?”

“I’d like?—"

“What was your take-home pay for a year at the bakery?”

She laughed sharply. “You think my bakery was financially sound? I’m flattered.

“What does that mean?”

“Basically, I took home enough to be able to pay my rent, and that was about it.”

“Fine. Let's figure out what the average baker takes home in a year, and that will be your day rate for a month in case things run long with my family. Deal?”

She stared at me for a moment, her voice coming out in a whisper. “That's a lot of money.”

“I can afford it.”

I tried not to fall into the trap of her giggles again but they were infectious. “Okay. Put that in writing.”

So I did, writing it on the nearest piece of paper I could find. A paper towel. I signed it and passed her the pen along with the “contract.”

“There you go.”

She giggled some more as she signed it. “I don't think this is technically legal.”

“I'll have my legal department draw something up in the morning. This is just a preliminary contract, so we’re both on the same page.”

“If you say so.” She stumbled getting off the chair and I had to catch her before she fell. Our faces were startlingly close together as I helped her stand up. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.” Ever again .

Her words came out slow and slurred. “I'm going to go to bed now.”

I hated myself for what I was about to say. “Can you do that safely?”

“Well, I've been doing it for quite some time so I believe I can.”

“Maggie, you can barely stand. Do you need help getting to your bedroom?”

“Maybe.”

I shouldn’t be doing this . I put my arm out for her to take. “Let me escort you to your room at least.”

As she took my arm her scent about killed me. It was as if every part of her was designed to knock down my boundaries. Her softness, her warmth, her very presence. I wanted it all. Each step toward her bedroom felt like hell.

When she walked in drunk, I thought for sure we were headed either for a fight or to the bedroom. A checkmate either way. But this bizarre stalemate didn't sit well with me. I wanted a clear win or a clear loss. Not a tie.

Once I got her to her room I knew things were about to get worse. She didn't let go of my arm as she walked inside. Instead, she pulled me in with her and closed the door.

“Maggie, what are you doing?”

“I think I need more help.”

“What is it?”

She sighed and turned around, lifting her hair to expose the button on her shirt. It fastened at the nape of her neck. “I don’t think I can unbutton this on my own.”

I laughed under my breath and unfastened it for her. “You're all set.”

“I'm not though.” She lifted her top over her shoulders and threw it onto the floor. My blood pressure shot up like a rocket, among other things. “I need help to get my bra undone, too.”

This woman was trying to kill me. Seeing her take off her blouse was enough to give me a hard-on. Something so simple on its own but I had to aim my hips away from her as I reached over and unclasped her bra.

I'd be fucked for sure if she felt me.

I wasn't sure that was a bad thing anymore.

Before I could say another word, she had her hands over her breasts and turned around, keeping the cursed bra in place. “Thank you, Julian. You can go now.”

Hoarsely, I asked, “Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm. Thanks for all your help.”

I clicked my tongue when I realized what she was doing. “You're welcome. See you in the morning, Maggie.” My pace as I exited was somewhere between a run and a walk. If I didn't escape her, things were going to turn into something that neither one of us could handle.

That wouldn't have been fair to anyone.

As much as I wanted to believe that she was just playing a game, I wasn't sure anymore. Was she flirting with me to punish me? To tempt me? To prove that we couldn't be professional about this? If this was just a game to her, then how did she feel about me?

It didn't matter. I had to do the smart thing for my future, for my daughter, and that was keeping this professional. Nothing more.

I couldn’t afford for it to be anything more.