chef, so whipping up a batch of cupcakes wouldn’t strain her culinary repertoire.
“Can you? And more important, do you want to try and fit making twenty-plus cupcakes into your very busy afternoon and evening?” Tate pertly replied.
Linc’s sigh was heavy. “No, I can’t and, no, I don’t.”
Tate smiled. “Then your part-time, fill-in nanny will make them.”
“My part-time, fill-in nanny is about to get a huge raise.”
“I’m sure we can work out a repayment plan that would be a lot of fun,” Tate replied, lowering her voice seductively. God, what was she doing? She heard Linc’s swift intake of breath and knew that she was playing with fire. Tate slapped her hand against her forehead and groaned. She had to resist him, and she should not be making flirty comments!
“What, exactly, did you have in mind?” Linc asked, his voice low and husky and vibrating over her skin.
Tate closed her eyes, mortified. “Ignore me, I should not have said that.”
“Why is your face red?” Shaw demanded. “Are you sick?”
Tate heard Linc’s wicked laugh in her ear. “Are you blushing, Tate? What, exactly, are you thinking about?”
“I am not about to tell you that!” Tate admitted, lifting her hand to her burning cheeks.
“Spoilsport. But it’s okay because my imagination is vivid enough for both of us. I’m just glad I’m alone and sitting behind a desk.” Linc admitted.
Tate blushed again at the visual that popped into her head and wished that she were with him, touching him, running her hands over the hard-ridged muscles of his stomach and into the back of his pants to push her finger tips into the hard muscle of his butt.
“We can’t do this, Linc. We really can’t complicate our lives by having—” Tate glanced at Shaw “—doing that!”
“I know that. I’ve tried everything to talk myself out of taking you to bed, but I want you, Tate. I’m wrong for you, and you’re wrong for me, but hell... I keep thinking of the patterns I want to draw on your skin, how I want to go about discovering every perfect inch of you. Then I want to make love to you until you forget your own name.”
Oh, God, her panties just caught fire. Tate felt the throb of desire start in her womb and spread through her body, causing sparks to ignite under her skin.
“You’re diabolical,” she wailed. “This isn’t a good idea, Linc. You know it’s not!”
“Screw good ideas,” Linc muttered.
Thinking that she’d plow the stroller into a light pole if they continued with this conversation, Tate tucked her phone between her neck and jaw, gripped the handle of the stroller with one hand and tightened her grip on Shaw’s hand. She had children to get home, cupcakes to make; she wouldn’t manage either if she kept fantasizing about the naughty things she wanted Linc Ballantyne to do to her.
They couldn’t. They shouldn’t.
They wouldn’t.
“Do you have the ingredients for the cupcakes?” she asked him, thinking that they really needed to get to safer ground.
“Changing the subject, Tate?”
“Absolutely. Let’s be smart and keep things simple, Linc.”
Tate clearly heard his frustrated sigh, and when he didn’t respond she chose to believe that he agreed with her. “So, about those ingredients?”
“I have no damn idea what is in the pantry,” Linc eventually replied. “I’ll get Amy to send an intern shopping for whatever you might need.”
“Flour, eggs, icing sugar, food coloring,” Tate rattled off. “Don’t go overboard. And do your interns do any real work or are they just there to make your life easier?”
“Both,” Linc said. “I’ll try and be home as soon as I can. If I’m not home by five, can you let Cady and the photographer into the house?”
“Yep. And I’ll even send you a text message to tell you that we are home safe, just so that you have one less thing to worry about,” Tate told him.
“Thanks, Tate,” Linc said. “I know that you think I’m overreacting and being paranoid but he’s—”
“Your life. The reason the sun rises every morning,” Tate said softly. God, she’d never been that to anyone, not even to her mom. For Lane, her first, most important connection was to her twin, then to Kari, who was all she had left of Lauren. And then, miles behind, was Tate.
What would that feel like, to be the object of Linc’s fierce devotion? His love? Pretty damn awesome, Tate decided. Fully fantastic.
“Tate?”
“Hmm...?”
“You and me? We can try to keep resisting each other, but I suspect it’s going to happen and when it does, we’re going to blow the damned roof off.”
By five that afternoon, Tate felt like she’d run the New York Marathon, fought off an alien invasion and gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer. Twenty-four cupcakes were cooling on the rack, Shaw had a sugar high from licking the sides of the mixing bowl, and Ellie needed her diaper changed. After today, she’d gained a newfound respect for stay-at-home moms and child minders. This job was not for the faint of heart.
Tate settled Shaw in front of the TV to watch his favorite show, then crossed the room and picked Ellie up from her playpen. The little girl’s hand bounced off her lips, and Tate kissed her fingers. Ellie’s laugh, deep and husky, just like Kari’s, rumbled across her skin, and Tate cuddled her close, burying her nose in her silky curls. God, she was pure magic, utterly sweet and ridiculously good.
Looking toward the kitchen, she winced. Shaw had insisted on helping her bake, and the kitchen looked like it was ground zero in the flour wars. She still had to pack the dishwasher and sweep the floor, and then they had to decorate the cupcakes.
Tate cast a dark glance at the three massive bags of supplies sitting on the dining table. If Linc’s intern had merely sent over some icing sugar and food coloring, they could just top the cupcakes with icing and a sweet. But, no, despite Tate’s earlier request, the Ballantyne intern had gone way overboard. There were cutters and stencils, edible flowers and iced animals. Decorating the cupcakes was not going to be a simple affair.
Ellie wiggled in her arms and gave a little wail to remind Tate that she was both dirty and hungry. Tate dropped a kiss on her grumpy lips and, after telling Shaw to leave the cupcakes alone, walked up the steps to the first floor. As she turned the corner, she heard the front door open, and people spilled into the hallway, led by Jaeger Ballantyne, who was carrying a little boy not that much older than Ellie.
“Hey, Tate,” Jaeger said, standing back to hold open the front door. “Rough day?” he asked, his expression amused.
Before she could answer, a slim woman walked up to her and leaned forward to drop a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’m Piper. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Piper put her hand on the little boy’s thigh. “This is Ty, our son.”
“Hi,” Tate said warmly, as more people drifted into the hall, including Beck, Sage and a harassed, petite brunette holding a clipboard.
She exchanged greetings with Linc’s siblings and watched as Beck grabbed the brunette’s arm.
“Cady, meet Tate. She’s...” Beck sent Tate a puzzled look. “What are you?”
“A friend of the family. Also Linc’s part-time nanny,” Tate replied, holding her hand out for Cady to shake. Not wanting to go into her convoluted