He crossed his arms. The muscles bulged. He didn’t even notice. “My mom was also on the deed and utilities. I can handle this one. I’ll get your name on it too.”
I didn’t have time to argue. Or the patience. Or the strength. Hanging near Zach 24/7 wore me down. He was sweet. He was charming.
And he was the sexiest man I ever saw.
I tried to keep the distance between us, but he knew just how to get under my skin. It was better than under my sheets, but just barely. He liked teasing as much as he liked fooling around, but it only wound me up. Zach had more control over his urges than I did.
One good fight and my suppressed emotions and memories would boil over. We’d have another disastrous kiss.
Which would lead to a good kiss.
And then even more.
It couldn’t happen. As far as I was concerned, Zach’s stay in the mansion was a business arrangement. Strictly business until I got my trust and he shipped out wherever they needed superheroes with egos bigger than the country they defended.
“Okay, fine.” I pointed the phone at him. “Make sure I’m listed as the primary contact. I’ll be back in a couple hours after I fix my schedule. Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.”
“You can count on me.”
He mock saluted and then drank straight from the milk carton.
Damn it, I nearly smiled. I escaped from the kitchen as quickly as I could without looking suspicious.
Bad idea. Very bad idea. Worst possible idea.
I repeated the words in a quick cadence. It didn’t help. I sought refuge in my car and headed back to the campus. I tried not to think about Zach. I got to the main gate before his grin popped into my head again.
Not too bad for a first attempt. I made it half a mile, but it wasn’t enough. My fingers curled over the steering wheel as I chastised myself. I’d have to try harder.
“No way,” I murmured. “You are not trying anything Hard. Not ever again.”
No matter how much my idiotic body wanted it.
Step-brother. Stealing your inheritance. Worst possible idea.
God, he was a great kisser.
I rolled onto campus a mess of nerves, stress, and a horrid combination of shame and unfulfilled need.
The few students taking their summer classes stared at my sleek Mercedes, but I swore they glared at me, like they knew what I did. I checked to make sure I didn’t wear a giant sign looped over my body, sandwich-board style.
Come see the amazing brother-fucker. Gaze upon the most regretted life decision since the twerking Miley Cyrus!
I kept my head down and blouse buttoned, trying to look as non-sexual deviant-y as possible. Of course, that meant every hound from the dining hall to the education building tried their luck. But baby didn’t sound as good coming from the twiggy idiots playing ultimate Frisbee in the middle of the admissions hall. I ducked below a wobbly pass and burst into my advisor’s office.
Professor Sweeten was anything but sweet. She graded on favorites, changed editions of the textbook every year so the incoming students couldn’t buy used books, and hated anyone who ever disagreed with her opinions. Granting her tenure was like giving the devil the keys to the church and wondering why the collection plate was empty. And cracked. And covered in sulfur.
“Good afternoon, Professor Sweeten.” I gave her my best smile. “Thank you for meeting with me. How are you—”
“What do you want?”
She couldn’t even bother to raise her wrinkled head to look me in the eye. She hacked—a smoker’s wheeze that sounded like it might have hurt, bless her shriveled heart.
“Um…I emailed earlier this week and asked if it were possible to change assignments for my student teaching position in the fall—”
“Oh, you.” She pushed the plastic frame of her glasses low on her nose and glanced at me. “I remember you. May Franklin.”
“Shay.”
“Right. You listen to me young lady. In any other circumstances with any other students, the answer would be a crystal clear N-O. Is that understood? You are assigned where you’re assigned. If you were a real teacher, this would be your job. You would be expected to move if you wanted to earn your salary and put food on your table. That’s what being an adult means.”
Oh, she was lucky I wore my heels or I would have thrown down right in her office.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
“I don’t care who your father is. Was.”
That made two of us. “What does he have to do with this?”
Professor Sweeten scoffed. “Hard to deny a student’s request when her father donated enough money to build a new wing for the library. You can have your reassignment. The best charter school in Buckhead is a dream job to those who earn the opportunity. Fortunately, with just the click of a pen, it’s yours. Congratulations.”
“Excuse me?”
“Pay attention, Miss Franklin. You may think you can waltz in here and buy your way into whatever position you want, but that’s not how my class works.”
She was kidding. She had to be. Anger prickled at my temples, but the indignation hadn’t hit my mouth yet.
Yet.
Professor Sweeten tossed the reassignment form to me. “By the end of this semester, you’ll be lucky if you can afford a passing grade.”
I folded the paper and tucked it neatly into my purse. “With all due respect, ma’am, you haven’t seen the size of my bank account.”
I didn’t let her speak and slammed the door behind me. Her bookshelves rattled, and I could only hope I entombed her with her educational ethics books.
How dare she?
How dare anyone insinuate that I was buying my way through school?
So my father bought my car. So he paid outright for my tuition. So he ensured I had enough for books and the best meal plans and other amenities.
I sunk into the leather interior of my Mercedes. The HD display lit up under my fingertips.
The car had air-conditioned seats.
I banged my head against the wheel. I knew what it looked like, but I wasn’t buying my way through life. I worked my butt off!
Still, it was going to be hard to convince anyone while I sipped a mai tai from the comforts of a resort-styled infinity pool overlooking my tennis courts and gardens. Not impossible, but the golden spoon in my mouth garbled my defense.
Damn it.
At least I had the reassignment, though a two-hour commute would have been Momma’s way of telling me to take my lumps before the lord himself started flipping tables in my kitchen.
I couldn’t worry about the gig or Professor Sweeten. I still had enough time this afternoon to wrestle with Dad’s investment portfolio. The stocks transferred smoothly but the retirement funds needed a bit of finagling. I had no idea what I was doing with any of it.
Suddenly, lounging in the pool all afternoon didn’t sound so bad. If Zach didn’t steal it. The man was a literal seal and spent most of his time swimming laps. If he could keep to one side of the resort-styled pool, he might have been good company. As much as it pained me to say it, he had been fun so far.
Zach could reach the top shelves in the kitchen for the popcorn. And he didn’t mind binge watching entire seasons of shows at once on Netflix. He also killed a house centipede for me, which should have canonized him as a goddamned saint.
He hadn’t made a pass at me. Hadn’t tried to kiss me. And he let me hold the remote.
So far, the sexual deviant was a perfect gentleman. His promise rang in my head.
The next time he came into my bedroom, he wasn’t leaving till morning.
Thoughts like that didn’t make the trip home any better. I pumped the radio and tried to think of anything but how fun a forbidden all-nighter would be.
Sin. Disaster. Perversion.
Muscle. Power. His lips…
That offer.
I screeched the car to a halt before I made it to the garage. I parked behind a little, red Porsche that hadn’t been there when I left.