shook his head and took a much smaller sip of the soda. All he could taste was sugar. It wasn’t so much strawberry flavored, but damn if it didn’t taste like his childhood and all the fun he used to have with Sofia. “I know you may find this hard to believe, but I don’t exactly wander the aisles of grocery stores. I have a personal chef and I dine out a lot.”
Her lips twisted into something that might’ve been a smile. Yes, he knew she didn’t have personal chefs, but he didn’t want to do a side-by-side comparison of their lifestyles.
“That’s true, I suppose,” she said.
“Hey, none of that.” He held out his soda for her to taste. Mrs. Cortés had packed several bottles but he was possessed with the sudden urge to share with Sofia. They always had shared, back when they’d been kids, hiding from his mom’s nutritionally conscious eyes. “We’re going to have a good time this weekend and that’s final. I don’t know if I told you this yet, but you look very nice today.”
She hesitated and then took the bottle from him. “Thank you. I can’t take any credit for this outfit—or anything else. It’s all Clarice.”
“She may have picked it out,” he said, his gaze drawn to the smooth expanse of her creamy skin revealed by the low-cut blouse, “but you’re making it look good.”
Sofia’s cheeks shot bright pink and for a second, he thought she was going to scold him. Instead, she lifted the bottle and placed it against her lips.
Suddenly, Eric couldn’t do anything but watch her throat move as she swallowed. When she handed the bottle back to him, her tongue traced the path around her lips, capturing every drop of sweetness.
He went hard in a heartbeat and it only got worse when she looked up at him through her lashes. So many possibilities. How would she look, her hair undone and her lips swollen from kisses? Would she taste sweet or would she taste more complex, like a fine wine?
He shook back to himself. This was Sofia, for crying out loud. He had to stop thinking about kissing her at random times. About kissing her at all. Or about what she’d look like in a cocktail dress. Or even out of a cocktail dress.
Unfortunately, his thoughts went right back to her children. He dug out his phone and opened the picture and froze. Eddy was clapping, Addy was smiling and as for him?
He looked happy. Happier than he could ever remember looking.
This was bad. No, that wasn’t true. Bad was wanting to strip her down to nothing and spending a long evening in a private hotel suite showing her how much better he’d gotten at kissing since he’d been a kid. He wanted to do bad, bad things to her. Repeatedly. Over the course of a long weekend.
Her babies weren’t bad, because he now knew these twins and might very well keep on knowing them. He could visit them again or have Sofia bring them out on the boat. Hell, he could invite them to his parents’ house because his mother would go crazy for these babies. He didn’t have to cling to this one photo as if that was all he was going to get.
But it was worse, too—because how was he supposed to spend time with those babies and not want more? He could already see it all—the way they’d scream in delight as the boat roared across the lake. How much fun they’d have in the pool, splashing everywhere.
How was he supposed to spend time with Sofia and not think of stripping her down and covering her body with his every other second? How was he supposed to hold himself back from cupping her cheek in his palm, feeling the soft warmth of her skin against his?
He shifted in his seat. What was his problem? He was not thinking about seducing Sofia, damn it. And he couldn’t be anything more to her children than an old family friend, either. As much as he cared for Sofia and her children, it wasn’t like he could just snap his fingers and have a ready-made family come running to his side.
It was one thing to give Sofia a good salary to support her children—but another thing to think he could overcome the loss of her husband and the babies’ father. All the money and power in the world couldn’t replace David Bingham.
A happy ending for Sofia was one more thing he couldn’t buy.
But if he could, he would. Because he did care for Sofia and he could very easily care for her children.
So many possibilities.
She opened a bag of Takis chips and held it out to him. “Thank you for being nice to the kids.”
He snorted and took a chip. “You make it sound like I was forcing myself to endure their company and that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m only sorry we couldn’t hang out more. And,” he went on, cutting her off before she could argue with him, “I was serious about coming out on the boat. I’ll get life preservers for them. Or maybe those little wet suits with the built-in floaties? Marcus had one for his son.”
That set off another round of thoughts. Marcus had married his executive assistant—Liberty Reese, who Eric had tried to poach for his own office.
How had that worked out for the Warrens? They still ran Warren Capital together. They’d adopted a little baby and somehow made a family out of almost thin air.
He shook his head. Those were questions best left for later. “While it’s a little cooler out toward the middle of the lake, the water’s a lot cleaner,” he went on. “The back of my boat opens out almost level with the water, so there wouldn’t be a big jump for them. I think they’d love it.” Then he popped the chip into his mouth.
And coughed again as his tongue caught on fire. “Were these always this spicy?” he spluttered, grabbing the soda and downing the rest of it in seconds. His eyes began to water as sweat popped out on his forehead.
Sofia laughed at him. “No, actually,” she said, studying the bag. “These are a newer flavor. Too hot?”
“I wasn’t prepared, that’s all.” But even as he said it, he swore he could see smoke curling out of his mouth. “I might never be prepared. Let’s not take these out on the boat. I’d never forgive myself if one of the kids ate one by accident.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him—although it was hard to look severe when eating corn chips. She didn’t even seem to break a sweat eating those hellfire chips. “You’re really serious? About the boat?”
“Sofia, when have I ever not been serious?”
She fought against a smile, he could tell. Her mouth twisted before she lost the battle and grinned at him. “Gosh,” she said, taking a pastry from the bag. “I can’t think of a time where you were never not serious.”
He liked that smile on her. He didn’t want to see worry crowding the corners of her eyes, drawing her full lips into a tight line. “Are you going to be okay this weekend?”
She looked out the window. “I think so. Yes. This is a whole different world for me, Eric. Private jets and expensive clothes and chauffeured cars…”
“Don’t forget the boat.”
She rolled her eyes, but she smiled again. “Who could forget the boat? I know we’re going to be working. But I’m determined to have fun. I haven’t had time away since…” She swallowed. “Since before,” she finished decisively.
Although it probably wasn’t a smart thing to do, Eric reached over and laced his fingers with hers. For a long moment, her hand was stiff in his and then, just when he’d decided this was another bad idea, her grip tightened around his. That spark flowed between them, but it was okay. Not a seduction. Here, in the car, they could hold hands and it would be all right.
“Sofia,” he said softly, setting the bag of food on the floor and scooting over to her. “I’m so sorry.”
Again, it was another long moment before she relaxed into him, her head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of her weight on his body. “It’s…it’s getting better. The job helps.”
“Good.”