Burn For You (Boys of the South) (6 page)

“What you like and what you should be doing are two very different things, Mr. Montgomery,” she says, slipping her hand from my grasp. She crosses her arms in front of her and pins me with a glare.

The wind picks up, chasing a strand of wavy, light brown hair around her beautiful, angry face.  Unable to help myself, I tuck that loose strand behind her ear and let my fingers linger for a moment on her soft skin.

“What I want to do is criminal, Ms. Basnight,” I say softly. So much for keeping
my
distance.

She sucks in a breath, her cheeks flushing again.  No act, far as I can tell. She’s all out of her element. Satisfaction roars. She wanted me then at Kings, and she wants me now.

The knowledge sends a shot of pure lust straight to my cock.

Jesus, I’m in trouble.

––––––––

L
andry

“Then go be all lawbreaking with Mrs. Montgomery,” I say, unsure if I should leave or not. Of all the things I could be in life, being attracted to a married man is not one of them.

His brows crash together. “Wow. That’s...uh, pretty sick.”

“I assume married people, like you and Mrs. Montgomery—”

Another one of those panty-melting grins curve up the corners of his lips, and I suddenly feel like a joke’s been made, only I don’t know the punch line. He leans into me, overwhelming my senses. I clench my fists to keep from touching him.

This is a really bad idea. There’s no way I’ll be party to breaking up a marriage or even if I didn’t break one up, to be complicit in his affairs. I start to back up, but Beau catches me by the elbow.

“You think I’m married?” he says softly, his lips brushing my ear. It doesn’t help that he has in the lip ring. The warm metal is like nothing I’ve ever felt against my skin. The naughty part of me wonders what it would feel like against more sensitive areas. I shiver, my nipples tightening and heat pulsing between my thighs.

Married, Landry.
He’s married
. Snap out of it. “I know you are.”

“What’s my wife’s name?”

Licking my lips, I struggle to remember the name on the paper. “M—Mia.”

He laughs then, low and sensual. The grip on my elbow lessens as he steps away from me. “Why don’t I introduce you to Mia?”

I take a deep breath. “That would be great.” Then I can get this farce of an interview over with and go home to my parents’ house so I can cry into the want ads.

Beau gestures for me to come inside, letting go of my elbow at the same time. Walking inside, I follow him. Today, he’s dressed more casual, in dark jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that shows off the definition in his arms.

He stops, and I step neatly to the side in order to avoid crashing into him. I survey the scene, confused. There’s a baby and a man sitting on a sofa. The man is an older version of Beau, while the baby looks nothing like either of them.

“Landry Basnight, this is my father, Remington Montgomery.”

I wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“Always nice to meet such a beautiful woman,” Remington says.

Beau rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath.

Suddenly, it clicks. The Remington Montgomery, racing legend. My parents are huge fans, though I never got caught up their racing fever. While the races were on after Sunday dinner, I would head to my room and read, watch a movie, or if things got too loud, I’d go hang out with a friend.

Beau walks to his dad and takes the baby from him. She perks all up, even happier than before, and makes babbling noises at him. A soft smile replaces the sexy one he had for me, and I swear I get all melty on the inside. There’s something about a man holding a baby with confidence that makes a woman weak, and I’m no exception.

“And this little beauty right here is Mia Montgomery, my
daughter
.” He holds up a hand and waves at me. “Say hi, Mia.”

My mouth drops open and a cold wave of embarrassment washes over me. This is
Mia
? The baby opens and closes her tiny little hand two times, and my heart flips. I can’t help it. I love babies.

“Oh, you are so smart,” I coo and smile. “And pretty, too. Can you wave at me again?”

Mia throws out her arms and grunts. Beau’s smile falls a little. “She wants you to hold her.”

“That’s fine with me,” I say, already reaching to take her. She goes into my arms easily, and I hold her close, kissing her head. I sway from side to side as I hold her, gently bouncing her and humming a little under my breath.  “How old is she? Mrs. Farnsworth didn’t give me any details because she wants the interview to be preconceived-notions free.” Though that didn’t stop me from thinking Beau was married.

He nods, giving me this look like he knows what I’m thinking, and it’s all he can do to not say something about my assumptions. “She’s seven months old, almost eight.”

“What about her mother?” I can help but ask.

“We have joint custody,” he says calmly, but a flash of annoyance in his eyes makes me wonder if he’s happy with the arrangement.

My curiosity is peaked, but I don’t want to be rude and ask more questions about their relationship. “Will she be here soon, too?” I make a face at Mia, and she just grins. “Are you crawling or walking, sweet pea? Or just taking everything in?”

“She’s an observer. I’m working with her on the crawling,” Beau says. “And no, Paisley won’t be joining us.”

“All my kids were late crawlers and early walkers,” Remington says, and this time, Beau’s jaw turns hard. “Then it was straight to fast cars, women, and—”

“Don’t you need to be going?” Beau asks.

Remington smirks. “Just making conversation, son.”

Beau gaze turns as hard as his jaw. “Ms. Basnight and I have things to discuss in private.”

“In private,” Remington repeats, his smirk growing bigger. “Boy, you don’t have to pretend with me. I don’t care who you f—”

Beau grabs his dad by the arm. “Move it, old man, before I throw you the hell out.”

“Mia won’t like that,” Remington says with a laugh, but I notice he starts moving toward the door.

“Mia’s too young to know what she likes,” Beau snaps, releasing his dad’s arm. He waits for the door to open and then shut before he turns to Mia and me. His expression softens. “Sorry about that. Remington and I don’t have the best relationship.”

“Some men make better grandfathers than dads.”

Beau shrugs casually, but his gray eyes are piercing, like he’s measuring the sincerity of my words. “I guess. Anyway, let’s get this interview over with.”

I sit, wishing I’d worn jeans instead of this too-tight skirt, but I thought it looked professional. Only, none of that matters now, because based on what Beau just said, I’m not going to get the job.

“I
s it
okay for Mia to sit with me, or do you want her back in her swing?” Landry asks.

Mia grabs Landry’s shirt and tugs, making a couple of the buttons on it pop open. The shirt gaps, and I can see the upper swells of her breasts.

I close my eyes, feeling like a complete asshole for ogling the woman holding my daughter.

“Whoops,” Landry laughs, and my eyes open in time to watch her fix her shirt—one handed, I might add.
Impressive.
“Ladies don’t flash men in public.”

“How about in private?” I ask softly, then suck my lip ring into my mouth to keep myself from asking more inappropriate questions. Rolling the warm metal against my tongue settles my brain. I can’t help it. I’ve had the piercing since I was fourteen, and it’s a habit. A weird, yet comforting habit. 

“Do you want your daughter flashing anyone in public or private?” Landry asks.

“Hell no.”

“Then maybe you should treat women the way you’d want your daughter to be treated.”

Annoyed as shit, I take a low shot at her. “Is that why your daddy let you parade around half naked and sit in men’s laps for money?”

Landry glares at me, her eyes flashing gold. I’m pretty sure that if a knife or gun had been handy, she would have used one or both of them to shut me up.

“I thought this was an interview, not your insulting assumptions about my family,” she says, bouncing Mia on her knee. 

Mia starts humming along to the movement. My baby girl looks happier than anything to be sitting with Landry, and that infernal female looks like a natural holding her.  I glance at my watch, thankful for the excuse to do something, and realize it’s past Mia’s nap time.

I stand up and cross the small distance between us, then hold out my hands to Mia. With a sigh, Landry relinquishes her, saying, “Bye, sweet pea.”

“I’ll be right back. Afternoon nap time,” I say, striding out of the room. By the time I change Mia, make sure her favorite baby is tucked by her side, cut on Little Mozart, and close the blinds, fifteen minutes have passed.

I don’t waste any time getting back to Landry, though if it’s because I’m ready for her to be on her way, or because I want to get to know her better, I’m not sure.

She’s not sitting where I left her. Instead, I find her in front of the shelves that run along either side of the flat-screen television. 

I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, coming to stand right behind her. “Snooping, Ms. Basnight?”

She jumps a little, and I can’t help but grin. Putting her on the defensive actually makes me happy. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“Yet you waited,” I point out.

Turning around, she lifts her eyes to mine. I suck in a breath. Up this close and in the daytime, I can see the perfection of her skin, the glow in her cheeks, and the innocence in her gaze.

I drop my gaze to her neck, to that spot where her pulse, I’m entirely satisfied to see, is fluttering wildly. “Do I make you nervous?”

I take a step forward, and she takes a step back and then another and another, until the shelves block her way and her only alternative is to ask me to move.

“I read your resume, thoroughly, and I’m very impressed, Ms. Basnight. You have everything I’m looking for in a... nanny. Intelligence, empathy, and a strong work ethic.  Do you want me to go on?”

Landry licks her plump, pink lips, but she doesn’t answer me.

“Why so quiet?” I bend my knees, dipping my head. “The cat can’t have your tongue, because—” Her mouth parts, a perfect invitation, and I forget what I’m saying.

“Because why?” she asks

What am I doing? I can’t kiss her. I can’t touch her. I can’t do a fucking thing to her. I get myself under control. “Because you’re the kind of female who’s not afraid to say what she wants.”

“You’ve got me all wrong.” She shakes her head, making a tendril of hair fall. “I say what needs to be said, not what I
want
to say.”

I take a step back. “I don’t take your meaning.”

She blows out a breath, scooting around me. I turn, unable to let her out of my sight for even a second. She walks to the sofa and sits down, her long legs sliding to one side and her hands settling in her lap. A perfect picture of sweet, southern belle, and I’m sure sugar wouldn’t melt her in her mouth. Though I’d like to find out. Hell, I want to sprinkle sugar on her tits and lick it off, work my way to her nipples and suck on them, see if I can make her come or if she needs more attention.

Focus, Beau.
I force my attention to her mouth, to her words, and try like hell to concentrate on what’s she says, not how her lips move or...
Jesus
.

“If we all went around saying what we wanted, then we wouldn’t have friends, jobs, or even be liked. So it’s best to— ”

“Not saying anything at all, unless it’s nice.”

She nods once, and I swallow a groan.

Oh, good God.
Landry Basnight is a southern belle through and through. Even Paisley, as high classed as she thinks she is, would laugh at Landry’s little rule for living.  The girl who sat in my lap at King’s is the total opposite of the girl in front of me. She’s prim and proper, and most likely has more rules. Rules that I want to break.

She nods. “Something like that.”

“Montgomerys don’t adhere to that rule... Well, except maybe for my stepmother. And my brother, Chase, but only because Love makes him, and he wants to set a good example for his girls.”

“Love makes your brother say nice things?” she asks, eyeing me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Love is my brother’s wife.”

“Oh.”

I grin at her. “Didn’t you Google me?”

“Was I supposed to Google you?”

I tilt my head to one side. “Might have seen my bare ass if you did.”

Her mouth drops open a little, and her cheeks flush. “Well...ah... that’s good to know.”

It’s really too bad I can’t hire her as the nanny, because I’d make it my life’s mission to get her all flustered as often as possible. “So... about the night we met.”

“I quit my job because everyone heard I got five hundred dollars for fifteen minutes with you. The rumor got around, and men assumed I was fair game,” she says flatly.

Stunned, I run a hand through my hair. “Sorry about that... if I had known, then—” I blow out a breath. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done differently.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Landry says quietly. “Why should it be your problem in the first place?”

“I left because Mia was sick, or I would have stayed. I would have,” I swallow. Protected her? Taken her to a hotel and fucked her brains out?

Since I made the promise of no women, no parties, and no racing to Paisley in return for time with Mia, I haven’t found myself in too many situations where I was tempted to forget about our agreement.  But that night, with Landry, I’m pretty damn sure I would have crossed every line and put my time with Mia in jeopardy.

Which is reason number one why I shouldn’t... or rather
can’t
hire Landry.

Only Paisley’s dating again, back with that rat bastard, Austin, while I sit at home like some wallflower waiting for a prom date who’ll never show. How is that fair?

“I would have done things differently. But I couldn’t stay at King’s with Mia needing me. She comes first, no matter what.” I need Landry to understand the situation I’m in. How important Mia is to me. I’m not this shallow, playboy type who screws women and bails when things turn tough, no matter how I
acted
in the past few years. My future is completely changed.