Heated Rush - Leslie Kelly [35]
“Time to go, mate,” he muttered. After he’d had her.
That certainty made the desperation to see her even more frustrating. He didn’t want to waste the little bit of time they had left by twiddling his thumbs in his hotel room all evening. And another solitary jack-off session in the shower would do absolutely nothing to cure him of his insane need for the sexy blonde.
Though, honestly, given the way he could still see her sprawled on her back on the couch—her bare breasts jutting toward him in welcome, her entire body shivering with need—he was going to have to do something.
So see her.
Easier said than done, since she was working tonight. He had to wait.
“Hell,” he muttered. He was no good at waiting.
Giving up any pretense that he was going to wait, he started calling Annie’s cell number, which he’d programmed into his. He had a good excuse. After their conversation at dinner last night, he’d begun thinking about the ordeal ahead. Her comment about how much easier things would be if he’d truly been some kind of blue-collar rescue worker had put him on edge, made him wonder about this charade they were going to try to pull on her family.
It had sounded so simple at first. Now, though, the whole thing seemed more daunting. Maybe because he knew Annie enough to know how much this meant to her. And because he already liked her enough to feel the pressure of wanting it to go well.
Whatever the reason, he didn’t want to screw this up. Meaning they should work on their story. If they’d been dating for two months, he’d at least know the woman’s middle name and the way she took her coffee.
In any normal situation, after two months, he’d damn sure know her favorite sexual positions and her most erogenous zones, too. But that might be pushing it for a simple weekend with the folks.
The phone rang and rang, but Annie didn’t answer. Remembering that she said she rarely did while at work, he waited until six, figuring she’d turn the phone on then, even if she was working late. But still nothing.
Finally, at eight, when she still hadn’t responded, Sean began to worry. She had joked about being surrounded by babies tonight, but he hadn’t taken her seriously. Day care centers didn’t stay open late at night. He’d figured she just had meetings or paperwork to take care of. So there was no reason for her to remain unreachable.
Annie’s comment about her family expecting her to turn up violated or murdered had been ringing a little too loudly in his ears for comfort.
He’d lost her card, but remembered the name of the center, and the area where it was located, if not the actual address. So he could have tried information for her work number. But some impulse—half worry, half impatience to see her—drove him from the hotel. Hailing a cab, he had it take him to Lincoln Park.
Fortunately, they only had to drive about twenty blocks before he saw the brightly colored Baby Daze sign in front of a small, well-kept brick building.
“There,” he said, pointing the place out to the driver. Parked outside the front door was a green minivan.
Good Lord, no wonder she’d liked the limo.
Waving the driver on, Sean walked to the front door, cupped his hands around his face and peeked inside. What he saw relieved him—since Annie sat there, safe and sound. But it also terrified him.
Because she was not alone. She sat on a child-size chair, in the middle of a mob of chattery, cookie-clutching, milk-mustached kids.
Every one of whom began to scream when they saw him watching them through the glass-plated door.
ON TWO FRIDAY NIGHTS a month, Baby Daze held a “Mom And Dad’s Dinner Out” event. Three members of the staff would work late, keeping no more than twelve children—age three and up—until nine o’clock. The event had proved so popular, they now had a waiting list stretching