Heiress for Hire (27 page)

Having another meal with his family was starting to become a habit. One that probably wasn't wise. Because in spite of the overabundance of carbs and starch, she actually enjoyed herself. They were so unpretentious, so honest. So unimpressed by money, status, names.

It made her life feel like a Rubic's cube. Unsolvable. There didn't seem to be a place for her in either the world she'd been born into, or this one here on the Tucker farm.

But tonight, she had decided none of that mattered, and that she was going to enjoy her time with Piper. Her time with Danny.

"Do you think I'll be able to paint the second coat tomorrow?"

"Yep. Then Brady can get started on the butterflies the day after."

"Cool." Amanda put the butter back in the fridge. "When is your appointment with the school counselor?"

"Tuesday of next week. She'll assess Piper. It's too bad we don't have the records from her previous school, but they wouldn't release them for me until I have custody."

"How long will that take?"

"We're going straight to the clinic after the appointment at the school to have the blood drawn. I wasn't going to tell Piper what the blood was for. I didn't want her to worry that maybe I'm not her biological father." Danny dropped silverware in the basket and shook his head. "I know the tests will tell the truth—I'm her father. But if she knows, she'll just worry until the results come back, which won't be for a week or so. Do you think it's wrong to lie to her?"

Amanda thought Danny had the most amazing natural instincts for being a parent. He thought things through, from every angle, and he always, always put Piper first. "I think that it's not lying. It's simply not telling the whole truth, and you're right. There is no reason to give her something to worry about."

It should have felt odd, to walk over to Danny and stroke his cheek, but it didn't when Amanda did. "Trust yourself, Danny. You know what you're doing."

His arms came around her. He sighed. "Thank you. For everything. All of this has been a lot easier because of you."

Standing in his small kitchen, surrounded by cheap flatware and Danny's big farmer arms should have felt weird. Like she'd fallen into someone else's life, or done a reality show switcheroo. But it felt more real than anything she'd ever done in her life.

Nothing artificial, nothing stylish. Nothing artfully arranged, nothing designer.

Just a sense of contentment with a man she trusted more than any she'd ever known before.

Dangerous, scary, bad thoughts that could get her into serious trouble. But she didn't care. She just wanted to absorb the moment, revel in it, roll the feelings over her so later on, she could pull them back out of her memory and remember that there were good men in the universe, though few and far between. So when she was dating men who thought manual labor was slicing the gouda cheese, she would remember that there were men who sweated for the food on their table.

So she could remember Danny when it was impossible for her to see him again.

He patted her butt in that friendly, affectionate way he had. "You've been a big help, Amanda."

"Since we're passing out certificates of appreciation, thank you for trusting me with Piper. Giving me a job." Then because she was in danger of feeling a little sappy, emotions a bit too close to the surface, she added, "And for trusting me in your home with a paint roller, even though you knew I had no clue what I was doing."

He gave a soft chuckle. Kissed her lightly. Reached into a drawer.

A drawer? Amanda pulled back. She happened to know the oven mitts were kept in there. O-kay. Somehow she'd never pictured Danny having a Betty Crocker fetish.

Until she saw he had a box of condoms in his hand.

"You keep condoms in the oven mitt drawer? I would have thought your dresser would make more sense."

He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes, which was just adorable. He was embarrassed. "Well, uh, I threw them in there and forgot to move them."

"Whatever. Yay you for even remembering them. I don't have any." She'd dumped the remaining few she had in the pile of Logan's belongings that she had tossed out of her apartment into the hallway. When he had run swearing after his wallet, she had closed the door and locked it.

It had been satisfying, but not nearly as funny as it would have been if he'd been naked. But he had pulled his shorts on after sex, so he could call his girlfriend on his cell phone while Amanda had been in the shower. Fortunately, she had forgotten her new apricot body scrub and had stepped out of the bathroom and caught his duplicitous conversation.

Not that she wanted to remember her humiliation with Logan when she was with Danny.

"So let's go use one or two."

Danny didn't say anything. He just took her hand, turned around, and pulled her out of the kitchen, across the living room, down the short hall. She wanted to say something, to crack a joke, to laugh seductively, to tug her hand out of his. But her heart was thumping hard and her mouth was dry.

Nothing witty was rattling around in her nervous brain so she just followed him, the only sound her flip-flops slapping on the carpet.

Her dusting duties didn't include Danny's bedroom. She had walked by a hundred times when the door was open and had never given it much more than a cursory glance. It was like the rest of the house—functional, but lacking in decor. There was a bed, unmade, plaid sheets glaring at her. A dresser with two drawers half open. A fan blowing on high. Lots of dirty shoes lying around, and several crumpled-up pairs of jeans. The closet was open, revealing—surprise!—more denim and enough T-shirts to suggest he needed a support group for cotton addicts.

"It's not much," he said, kicking two pairs of shoes under the bed.

"It's fine. But if you ever want to get in touch with your inner-decorator, let me know. I'll guide you." Amanda kicked her flip-flops off by the door.

"I don't have an inner-decorator. That wouldn't leave any room for beer."

She would not laugh. That would only encourage him. But even as she covered her mouth with her hand, she couldn't stop a wheezy sort of chuckle from slipping out. That petered out when Danny stripped off his shirt and let it drop to the floor.

"Take that shirt off, Amanda. I just want to feel you." He wasn't waiting for her, but was tugging at her shirt, lifting it over her breasts.

Which reminded her of her shortcomings. "There isn't a lot of me to feel. I'm optimistically an A cup. I would buy training bras for the fit if they didn't have those goofy little pink bows on them."

And why was she doing that? Warning him, turning her chest into a joke. Being defensive, revealing herself to be needy. Now he would feel obligated to give her a compliment. Or worse, tell her it was okay, he couldn't ask for everything.

He did neither. He just ripped off her shirt. Then popped open her bra and stuck his mouth right on her nipple and gave it a suck.

No talking. Good plan. Amanda dug her fingers into his back. Then promptly dropped them. Logan had said she was a back scratcher and that it was annoying.

Danny pulled her closer and made little murmurs of approval as he moved from one breast to the other.

Amanda moaned. Then clamped her lips shut. She muttered, "Don't you think we should close the door? And lock it? What if Piper comes back? Or your mom?" God, there was a scary thought. Willie Tucker walking in on Danny licking her nipple. Her desire disappeared.

Hot, cold, hot, cold. She was a regular thermostat.

Danny lifted his head and scrutinized Amanda. She looked tense. She sounded a bit on the edge of hysteria.

He was nervous enough himself, as it was, afraid he wouldn't measure up to her previous lovers. Her obvious uncertainty wasn't going to help one bit.

Reaching behind her, he shut the door and pushed the button in to lock it. "We'll hear them come in the kitchen door."

"We will?"

Maybe. "Sure." Danny pushed her bra off her shoulders so it would fall to the floor. Amanda stood there in her denim shorts and nothing else, looking a bit like she'd just decided to sell her soul to Satan and was regretting it.

And he had the most horrible, uncomfortable thought that here he was planning on having sex with Amanda on this bed and he had just told his daughter she would be sleeping there that night.

Danny just stood staring at Amanda, in doubt.

Something wasn't working here.

But Amanda seemed to give herself a mental shake, because she went over to the bed and lay down on her side. The move should have looked sexy as sin, but instead looked practiced to him. Like she was posing, not being spontaneous.

He popped the button on his jeans, aroused in spite of all his random, colliding, doubting thoughts. Amanda was laid out on his bed. It was impossible not to react, even if it was half-hearted. Which meant he was an idiot. He shouldn't be thinking at all. He should just be diving on her. No wonder he sucked at making love to a woman. He was slow.

Feeling like an ox climbing into bed with a gazelle, he managed to climb up beside her without tipping her onto the floor. Her pouty smile was looking a little strained.

He gave her a kiss, a soft one, that didn't lead to anything. It was just a nice, what-the-fuck-are-we-doing? kind of kiss.

Amanda's hand started roaming over the front of his jeans. Around and around and Danny wanted to crawl under the bed and bludgeon himself to death with her flip-flop. She wasn't finding anything.

She sighed. "This isn't going to happen, is it?"

Or maybe he could smother himself in the pillow. "I don't think so." He tried to will himself to rise to the occasion, but there was no cooperation.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault." She flopped on -her back and rested her hands on her stomach above her shorts. "I'm giving off weird vibes, aren't I?"

He was pretty damn sure they both were. "I think we're both thinking, worrying."

"My last boyfriend…" She pulled the bed pillow over her chest and hugged it. "God, I can't believe I'm going to tell you this. But I overheard him telling someone that he wished I'd get a boob job. And that I had a nonexistent ass. And that, uh, my skills in bed were lacking."

"You're kidding." Danny forgot all about his own discomfort and brushed Amanda's hair back from her cheek. He propped himself on one elbow. "That's crazy. And rude, the asshole. You have a fabulous body. Sometimes I think I need a bib when I'm looking at you."

She gave a tight laugh. "You're very sweet, but I know I don't have any breasts. I got implants a few years ago, but I had them taken out nine months ago, right before I met Logan, ironically. I wanted to be me, just me, and thought that would be enough. Guess I was wrong."

"No, you weren't wrong. You don't need bags of saline shoved in your chest to make you attractive and desirable." The very thought made him angry, nauseous. "What a jackass. And he called himself your boyfriend? How could he say things like that about you?"

Amanda turned a little, and he could see luminous tears hovering in her eyes. "Because he didn't give a shit about me. I thought he did, but it turned out he had a girlfriend on the side, the woman he actually cared about. A woman he actually enjoyed having sex with. I was just his meal ticket."

When a tear rolled down her cheek, he wiped it with his thumb, distraught at the pain splashed all over her face. "Oh, Princess, that's just so wrong… I'm so sorry."

"I've never been so humiliated in my whole life. And apparently it's stuck some doubts in my head, because I was standing here and all I could think was that what if I am lousy in bed and no one had the guts to tell me? I didn't want to disappoint you and embarrass myself." She rolled on her side, toward him, and gave a laugh. "Of course, I've already embarrassed myself by dumping all this on you. Here are all my flaws and insecurities—how unsexy is that?"