Risk (It's Complicated Book 2) (24 page)

Shooting him a death glare, she marched off, got the ball, and marched back. “I can do it,” she insisted. “Just give me a minute. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

She started again, this time keeping her palms up.

“Good,” he said. “Now slowly roll to the right. You’ve got to ease up on the ball a little so it’ll roll. That’s where the ab strength comes in.”

Screwing up her face, she eased to her right, but immediately began to slip.

Without thinking, he bent and caught her hips to stabilize her.

She jerked away again, eyes flashing.

“Don’t touch me,” she barked. “I don’t know how you expect me to do it when you keep
touching
me.”

Something inside him snapped.

“Don’t touch you? Are you kidding me? I just kept you from falling on your ass!”

“You’re always”—she waved a hand as if she couldn’t quite put his heinous misdeeds to words—“
touching
me. Knock it off!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he roared.

“I told you I don’t want to be here today! I’m too busy.”

“Yeah? Anything else?”

She hesitated before taking a deep breath. “They did my home study this morning. At seven fifteen, when I was already late for court and had just discovered that Maya hacked off a big hunk of her hair, some woman showed up and demanded to meet Maya and see my apartment, which, for the first time in my life, was a disaster.”

His heart sank. “Oh.”

“Yeah,
oh
.” She swiped her nose with the back of her hand. “So I was late for court on the biggest case of my career, and when I got back to the office, my boss reminded me if I intend to make partner in January, I better get my shit together.”

“Angela,” he began, reaching for her without thinking.

“Don’t,” she cried, backing away. “Don’t...touch...me!”

He cursed and turned his back on her, but that only seemed to set her off.

“And don’t pretend you care if I’m upset!” she yelled. “Don’t pretend this isn’t exactly what you’ve been praying for! Now Maya will be yours, free and clear! You’ll have
everything
you want!”

Frustration got the best of him. He grabbed her by the shoulders and leaned down to stare directly into her shocked face.

“I can assure you,” he said, his raspy voice sounding dangerous, even to his own ears, “that I
don’t
have everything I want.”

She jerked away or he let her go. He wasn’t sure which.

Then she collapsed in the folding chair.

“I’m so tired,” she said, burying her head in her hands. “I don’t recognize anything about my life anymore.”

Just like that his anger disappeared, freeing him to empathize with her.

To lose a little bit more of his heart to her.

“Angela.”

Squatting between her legs, he pulled her into his arms. To his astonishment, she forgot her anger, came eagerly, and locked her arms around his neck. He crooned and soaked her in, threading his fingers through her thick hair, feeling her breath against his neck and reveling in the strong warmth of her back and shoulders.

“The only thing you need to recognize,” he said, “is that you and Maya and I are a family now. And I will
always
be here for you—it doesn’t matter who gets Maya and it doesn’t matter whether you make partner or not. You can
always
count on me. Don’t you know how I—”

He stopped, too choked up to continue.

“I—I’m sorry.” Her voice was throaty when she pulled back. Her bright eyes dipped to his mouth before flicking back up to his eyes. “I didn’t mean to take my awful day out on you.”

“It’s okay.”

She nodded and dropped her hands from his neck. Knowing he was teetering on the brink of a catastrophic loss of control, he quickly stood and turned away before she noticed his growing arousal. He snatched his oversized fleece pullover off the table and quickly slid it on.

“I guess we’re done for today?”

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

He shrugged.

She turned away on the pretext of picking up her bag. “What are we doing about Christmas? We need to do the shopping for Maya. And your father called to say he’s having dinner at his house.”

“I don’t know,” Justus said dispassionately. It was hard to get worked up about the holidays when so many places at the dining room table would be empty. “I’d like to be there when Maya opens her presents, so—”

“You could spend the night with me.”

Justus gaped at her.

She stood up. “I mean—we have space on the sofa,” she said quickly. “And there’s no telling what time she’ll wake up, probably the crack of dawn, so—”

“I will,” he said before she changed her mind. “Thanks.”

She smiled happily, and Justus felt his entire being clench with need for this woman. In that tricky moment, desperation felt like his oldest running buddy. If Satan appeared right now, Justus would gladly sign on the dotted line for just one night with Angela.

She was almost ready to surrender; he could smell it on her.

Every time they were together now, he could feel her softening, and there was no mistaking the way she’d looked at him a minute ago.

So...what to do?

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t push her, and no one could claim he hadn’t done his level best to keep his word. But enough was enough. He was a man, not a saint. She was so close, and if a small nudge would push her into his arms a little sooner, well, then...

He’d have to nudge.

* * *

W
hen the meat
thermometer read one hundred and seventy degrees, Angela took her perfectly medium-rare roast tenderloin out of the oven, put it on top of the stove, covered it with a tent of aluminum foil, and surveyed the rest of her Christmas Eve feast with satisfaction. Rich brown gravy. Crisp green beans flecked with pancetta. Her world-famous potatoes, mashed with sour cream, cream cheese, and chives. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.

The dinner was, she decided, a culinary masterpiece.

She only hoped Justus thought so.

Maya twirled by in the living room, singing her off-key, off-lyric version of “Jingle Bells,” putting special emphasis on the part where “Batman smells.” Angela grinned. She couldn’t ever remember Maya being so excited before, but, as her guilty conscience reminded her, she’d never spent Christmas Eve with Maya.

As she watched, Maya stopped in front of the live tree they’d trimmed the other day, gingerly touching the white lights and her favorite ornaments. Then she skipped to the crackling fireplace and, staying well clear of the screen, touched the fresh garland, which was laced with white lights and red-and-green plaid satin ribbons.

Sneaking a glance over her shoulder at Angela—Angela quickly ducked her head and pretended she was too absorbed with wiping the counter to notice what Maya was doing—Maya furtively squeezed the bottom of the white-topped red stocking with her name on it, apparently making sure Santa hadn’t made any early deliveries.

Angela stifled her laugh.

Knock-knock-knock.

“Uncle Justus!” Maya screeched, then spun and raced to the door as fast as her little black patent leather Mary Janes would carry her.

Angela’s insides softened to the consistency of her cranberry chutney. Her heart raced.

Inviting Justus to spend the night had seemed like a good idea at the time.

If only she’d taken a minute to figure out how she’d manage to fight her attraction to him while he was
there
. With her.

Her growing obsession with him had gotten exponentially worse ever since she’d caved and kept her appointment for him to “train” her. She’d known it would be a disaster, and it was. Because now all she could think about was Justus’s flawless brown skin, flexing thighs and calves, and, let’s face it, heavy groin.

Yeah, that’d been a mistake. M-I-S-T-A-K-E.

She’d been lightheaded with desire that day and, big surprise, was lightheaded with desire now. Even her hands were shaking with it as she untied her chef’s apron and swept it over her head. Keeping said hands to herself under the circumstances seemed like an increasingly ridiculous idea, like vacationing in the North Pole. And spending the night in such close quarters with Justus—while keeping her distance, which she still firmly intended to do—promised to be an agonizing exercise in self-control. But she would do it. She had to do it.

You’re not his type, anyway
,
girl
, she told herself.

But the reminder seemed to be losing its potency.

“Hurry, Aunt Ang-la!”

“I’m coming!” Despite her excitement, she managed to walk sedately to the door and unlock it for Maya to swing open.

“Uncle Justus!”

Stooping and laughing, he caught the girl as she launched herself at him.

Angela watched and waited breathlessly for Justus to look at her. She spent the couple seconds trying to regulate her haywire pulse—God, he looked sexy in his black cashmere turtleneck, wool pants, and leather jacket—but, really. What was the point? Who was she fooling?

Where Justus Robinson was concerned? She’d never had a chance.

Over Maya’s shoulder, his gaze found Angela’s and widened with obvious appreciation even as he let Maya go and stretched to his full height. Once again, she’d spent a ridiculously long time on her appearance, even for this new Angela who existed solely to catch Justus’s eye. Now, seeing his reaction, she knew it was time well spent.

Her hair was tousled and free, and she’d worn a red silk wrap blouse that plunged deeply in the front, black palazzo pants, and black stilettos.

Justus noticed all of it.

His slow gaze traveled from her face down over her breasts, hips, and feet, absorbing every small detail of her appearance before it returned to her face.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi.”

“What’s this?” Maya cried from the doorway. “Oooh,
presents
.”

Justus frowned and swung around in time to snatch the shopping bag full of brightly wrapped gifts out of Maya’s eager little hands. “Get outta there!”

Maya hopped from one foot to the other in her excitement. “Are those for me?”

Justus’s brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Have you been good this year?”

“I’m always good!”

Angela coughed discreetly, a gesture entirely lost on Maya. But Justus glanced over Maya’s head at Angela, his grin widening.

“Well, we’ll see,” he told Maya as he went to the living room and knelt beneath the tree, which was already overloaded with gifts. “I’ll just put them under the tree with the other presents.”

“Okay.”

Maya supervised while he removed several large gifts from his bag and arranged them under the tree, then grabbed the hem of her dress and, holding it like she was a waltzing princess, whirled around for Justus to admire her.

“Don’t I look pretty, Uncle Justus?”

Angela had to laugh; Maya did look adorable. She wore a beautiful little dress with a black velvet bodice, cap sleeves, and a green-and-red plaid taffeta skirt that tied in the back. Plus, white dress socks with lace trim. For added flair, Angela had woven fat red ribbons through her braids and subdued the sheared portion of her hair with a barrette to counter its unfortunate tendency to stick straight up like grass.

Justus got up and looked indulgently down at his niece. “You look like a princess.”

Beaming, Maya pointed at Angela. “Doesn’t Aunt Ang-la look beautiful too? Isn’t her outfit pretty even if it isn’t a dress like mine?”

“Don’t put him on the spot, Maya,” Angela said quickly, her face beginning to burn.

Justus took forever to turn his head and follow the path of Maya’s finger, as if he wasn’t quite certain he should look at Angela at all.

But eventually their gazes met and Angela felt a stunning jolt of electricity surge through her body, head to toe. With it came a flash of absolute clarity.

And she
knew
, even before he showed her by letting her see the raw intensity on his face.

Justus wanted her.
Still
wanted her. Had
always
wanted her.

And meant for her to know it.

Which meant that his whole spiel about Angela not being his type had been an act.

A complete act.

This whole time.

Either that, or he’d decided he couldn’t fight his attraction to her, after all.

Either way, she had a huge freaking problem on her hands. Because it was hard enough to resist him when she thought he didn’t want her. And now—

Angela’s knees weakened.

She clutched the nearest chair for support, her thoughts spinning out of control.

“Uncle Justus?” Maya tugged impatiently on his hand.

“Yes, Maya.” His attention never left Angela’s face. “Aunt Angela is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve always thought so. It doesn’t matter what she wears.”

Oh, God
, Angela thought with utter disbelief.
Oh my God
.

Frowning, Maya said, “But what about Mommy?”

A fleeting expression of sadness crossed Justus’s face. He wrapped his arm around Maya without looking away from Angela.