Take Your Time (Boston Love #4)(49)

Luca’s voice carries to me. “Four oh five.”

I glance back and see he hasn’t moved from his spot. He’s watching me tear through my boxes like a psychopath, brows raised in curiosity. I can see the remnants of desire still burning in his eyes and I know, even from here, that he’s still caught up in the memory of our heated moment.

“Guessing you forgot about some kind of commitment tonight,” he murmurs.

“Harry and Potter.”

His brows lift. “Book or movie?”

“No, no. Harry and Potter. My next door neighbors. I’m supposed to babysit them starting… six minutes ago. I totally forgot.”

“Ah.” His lips are twitching. “Ron and Hermione coming too, or…?”

I hurl a pair of socks at him, which he swiftly dodges, then return to my clothing search. “Don’t blame me. Their parents are diehard Rowling fans. Apparently they met in the fiction section of the library during college. He came up to her after spotting her red and gold scarf from across the shelves and murmured ten points for Gryffindor. The rest was history. It’s actually pretty cute.” I flush. “You know, if you’re into that sort of cheesy thing. Which I’m not!” I add hurriedly. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Luca agrees in an amused tone.

Shit.

I bite my cheek so I’ll stop talking.

Normally, I probably wouldn’t strip in front of him, but I’m in such a rush to get ready before the kids somehow find their way inside and catch me in this flustered state, modesty is the last thing on my mind. I peel the sweatshirt up over my head. I’m about to place it back amongst my belongings when I realize, despite my newfound attachment… it really doesn’t belong to me.

“Um. This is actually yours.” I turn and toss it in Luca’s direction. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

His fingers twist in the fabric as he catches it. “Keep it. Never looked half as good on me as it does with those legs of yours.”

I pointedly ignore that comment, turning my back to him as my eyes scan the piles of clothing. I grab a rust-colored v-neck at random off the top of the stack and tug it over my head.

“LILAAAA!” The kids are yelling again, fists slamming against the wood door without reprieve. “ARE YOU HOMEEEEE?”

“Shit!” I panic, searching for a pair of jeans at the bottom of the box. They’re nowhere to be found. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Two big hands settle on my shoulders. I go instantly still beneath his touch, frozen in place as his mouth moves down to rasp in my ear.

“Babe. Breathe. Put on some pants. I’ll go distract the kids for a few minutes.”

My eyes widen and I whirl around to face him. I instantly regret it, since he’s only about three millimeters away, which means I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes. For the record, it’s hard to make someone take you seriously when you’re staring up at them like one of the munchkins from The Wizard of Oz.

“Do you know anything about kids?” I ask skeptically.

“I was one, about twenty years ago. Does that count?”

“No.”

He smiles, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Relax. Kids like me.”

I wrinkle my nose at him in doubt… and, I shit you not, he actually leans in and kisses the tip of it with a smirk. It’s such a casual move you’d think he did it every day of his life.

My knees lock to keep me from falling over.

When he sees the shell-shocked expression on my face, he full on grins, like he’s in on a joke I’m not privy to, then turns and starts walking toward the door.

“They’re going to be terrified of you,” I call after him.

He ignores me.

Great.

With a renewed sense of urgency, I restart my search for jeans. My hands land on a pair of dark-wash skinnies. Pulling them on as fast as possible, I shove my feet into a pair of rubber flip flops I’d usually never be caught dead wearing outside a spa swimming pool area, and race toward the sound of voices. I’m held up momentarily in my hallway, when I catch sight of my hair in the mirror — it looks like something out of an ’80s porno, thanks to Luca’s hands, and unless I want to be the one to introduce the concept of sex hair to a pair of five year olds, something must be done about it. I smooth the mussed strands into a slightly less hedonistic style, then take off running toward the front door again. As I round the corner into the foyer, I brace myself the worst…

And am promptly stunned to find Harry and Potter sitting on the floor with Luca, totally at ease as they pet Duncan’s puppy. The trio is chatting like a group of long lost friends. They’re so wrapped up in their discussion, they don’t even notice me enter.

“Right now we only have a fishy.” Potter quirks her head at Luca. “Do you fink a fishy counts as a pet?”

“Definitely,” he agrees solemnly. “What’s its name?”

“Dumbledore.”

Luca’s lips twitch as he glances from her to her twin. Harry, the shyer of the two, is staring at Luca’s muscles in silent awe, as though he’s just met a superhero in person. Or Hagrid. As soon as they make eye contact, Harry flushes red and returns his gaze to the puppy.

“I’m sure Dumbledore the fish is lucky to have you two as owners,” Luca says in a sincere tone that makes Potter beam with pride.