definitely a train wreck!
Sam quickly dropped her shoulder bag onto the floor in order to run down the hallway, reaching Xander Sterne’s side just in time to put a supportive shoulder underneath his arm to prevent him from toppling over completely.
Or, at least, that was the plan.
Unfortunately, Xander weighed probably twice as much as she did. So that when he overbalanced completely he took Sam down with him, both of them ending up on the floor, the fall slightly cushioned by the thick carpet but still eliciting a grunt from Xander Sterne as he landed on his back, Sam sprawled inelegantly across him, her denim-clad legs entangled with his much longer ones.
This wasn’t just a train wreck, it was a disaster!
‘Well, that’s rule number one already null and void!’ he muttered through gritted teeth.
‘Sorry?’ Sam raised her head to look down at him.
‘Why are you and Mr Sterne lying on the floor, Mummy?’ a bewildered Daisy enquired curiously as she wandered back down the hallway to look down at them.
‘Will you tell her or shall I?’ Xander Sterne’s chest —his very muscled chest beneath another fitted black T-shirt—moved beneath Sam’s breasts as he bit the words out.
Sam felt the colour warming her cheeks as she realised her eyes were just inches away from the censorious brown ones now glaring up at her, and that her boss’s chiselled features were twisted in displeasure.
Or perhaps it was pain he was exhibiting rather than censure?
Daisy had just succeeded in knocking this man over when he was still recovering from a broken leg, the very reason that she and Daisy were in his apartment in the first place.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Sam mumbled as she moved carefully, to avoid hurting Xander further, lifting herself up and away from him before standing up. She wondered whether she ought to answer her daughter first or help him back up onto his feet.
She decided to do both as she noted that his face had paled in the last few minutes.
‘We fell over, darling,’ she answered Daisy distractedly as she went back down onto her knees beside Xander. ‘Should I call your doctor before you attempt to get up, do you think?’ she prompted worriedly as he began to roll onto his right side—the side with the leg that wasn’t broken—with the obvious intention of attempting to get back up onto his feet.
Xander turned to give her a cold stare, knowing it was his dignity that was injured more than his leg. Four weeks of hobbling around on crutches hadn’t exactly been good for his ego, and now he had to deal with the fact that he had been knocked off his feet by a child.
Although it hadn’t been all bad, Xander acknowledged grudgingly as he reached for his crutches to help him to his feet; Ms Smith might be a tiny little thing, and her build a bit too much on the slender side for his normal taste, but what little of her there was was completely feminine. A fact his body had definitely responded to as she lay sprawled on top of him. Her body had felt incredibly soft, and she’d smelt of flowers.
It was good to know, after six weeks without sex, that at least that part of him was still in working order, even if the rest of him was still shot to hell.
Even if it was an entirely inappropriate response to the woman being paid to share his apartment for the next two weeks.
‘I don’t need a doctor to know that the only part of me that’s bruised is my ego!’ Xander answered her more harshly than he had intended. Slightly regretting that harshness as she appeared to recoil and withdraw into herself.
What had she expected? That he was just going to laugh it off as childish exuberance?
Damn it, she and her daughter had only just arrived; he hadn’t even had chance as yet for the talk about rules regarding her daughter’s behaviour.
‘Ah, just in the nick of time,’ Xander muttered as the lift doors opened a second time and Paul stepped out carrying several bags, obviously the mother and daughter’s luggage. ‘Paul can help me get up, if you would like to take your daughter with you into the kitchen and make a pot of tea,’ he bit out.
Sam knew it was an order rather than a request, and a means of getting she and Daisy out of the way.
And who could blame the man? He had already suffered the indignity of being knocked off his feet; he didn’t need the further embarrassment of having to be helped back up in front of an audience.
Xander Sterne didn’t give the impression he was a man who liked to show any sort of weakness. Ever. Which didn’t bode well for the next two weeks, Sam acknowledged with a wince, when she was supposed to be helping him, as well as cooking for him.
She gave Paul a grateful smile before leaving him to help Xander back onto his feet, while she and Daisy went down the hallway in search of what turned out to be a beautiful red and black high-gloss kitchen, its numerous and expensive appliances all in gleaming chrome.
The sort of kitchen that she would have loved to explore further, if she weren’t feeling quite so much trepidation about whether or not she and Daisy would be here long enough for her to see any more of this apartment than the kitchen. And the inside of the lift again, as they left!
She lifted Daisy up onto one of the bar stools before finding a carton of orange juice in the huge American-style fridge, and pouring some into a glass for her.
‘I thought we had a rule about running in the house?’ she chided Daisy gently as she moved to put the kettle on before looking for the tea, aware of the murmur of male voices out in the hallway as she did so.
‘Sorry, Mummy.’ Her daughter gave a guilty grimace. ‘I just saw the huge television and I wanted to— Sorry,’ she muttered again contritely.
Sam’s expression immediately softened. ‘I think you owe Mr Sterne an apology for running in his home, don’t you?’
‘Yes, Mummy. Do you think he’ll let us stay now?’ Daisy added anxiously.
It didn’t help that Sam was wondering the same thing.
She raised her brows. ‘Do you want to stay?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Daisy enthused.
Sam had no doubts that the huge TV was the reason for her daughter’s enthusiasm. It certainly couldn’t be because Daisy liked Xander Sterne, when all he had done so far was growl at them.
Xander had just been about to enter the kitchen, with the intention of giving the woman a blistering piece of his mind before then ordering her to leave, when he overheard the conversation between mother and daughter.
At which point his chest gave a tight and unexpected squeeze at how subdued the previously exuberant Daisy now sounded.
Because he had reacted like a bad-tempered idiot. To a five-year-old.
Damn it, he was not turning into his father.
He was not!
It wasn’t as if the little red-haired tornado had meant to knock
