Accidental In Love

By
RaeLynn Blue

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to

be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright© 2009 RaeLynn Blue
Cover Artist: Shara Azod Editor: Lacynda Hill

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and

any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
Turning toward her little Ford, Charlotte unlocked the driver’s side door and
plopped herself inside. Soaking wet from the downpour, she fastened her seatbelt and
cursed the cleaning she’d have to do tomorrow to keep the car from smelling like old,
moldy carpet. Gripping the steering wheel, she listened to the rain slam onto her
windshield and tried to rearrange the sequence of what just happened. It started out so
damn simple—get a job. The drumming of the rain as it fell harder against the car’s
exterior didn’t drown out the disbelief in her head. Nothing could quiet the demons.
She should’ve known.
She slipped the key into the ignition.
The little car roared to life and she headed out onto Hobbs, making a right. She
wanted nothing better than to go home, take a long hot bath, and drown her
humiliation in a few glasses of zinfandel. Sting on the CD player with some Maxwell
tossed in and all memories of yet another day of job hunting would evaporate.
It was these happy thoughts that swirled around Charlotte’s brain. She turned
right, heading north, and reached to turn on her CD player, when horns blared, and the
wet screech of rubber and asphalt tore through her musings. Her head shot up. From
her rearview mirror she saw the sleek metallic of what appeared to be a Mercedes
careening down Hobbs.
“Oh shit!” she screamed and tried to steer her car out of the path of the boat of a
vehicle now hydroplaning toward her. The damn thing blurred with the precipitation. The impact slammed into the rear and sent her face first toward
the steering wheel. Her
car went sprawling into the left lane, into the face of oncoming traffic. More horns
blared as Charlotte turned the steering wheel this way and that to avoid being struck
again. Thin blood trails streamed down her face, but she had to stay awake, to stay
conscious, and avoid getting killed. Thankfully her car jumped the curb and ended up
on the sidewalk, facing the Tanger Botanical Gardens.
Her heart banging in her chest, she turned off the car and put her head on the
steering wheel. Nauseous from the spinning of her car, she closed her eyes to stop the
damn merry-go-round.

God

, she was going to throw up.

She leaned back against the seat and panted. Swallowing the acidic mix of fear
and adrenaline, she reached up to touch her forehead. Wincing, the first stinging licks of
her injury erupted.
“Great and wonderful, I’m bleeding,” she croaked and closed her eyes again.
It could’ve been worse. She could have been killed.
Three hard knocks made her bolt upright.
“Oh shit!” she screamed.
Heart in her throat, she peered at the person staring into her driver’s side
window.
“Are you all right?” came a muffled voice.
Between the heavy shower and the rolled up window, she couldn’t tell if it was a
man or woman. In the distance the wail of an ambulance and what sounded like police
cars wafted up to add to the din. She’d been hit. Right. She’d been in an accident. “Are you okay? Need an ambulance?” the person asked again.
She shook her head no and realized a bit too late that it wasn’t the best thing to
do. Before she could stop it, the nausea raced up her throat, forcing the contents of her
stomach out onto her passenger seat.
Damn.
“Hey, hey, over here!” the Good Samaritan outside her window called.
Everything faded along the edges and she struggled to get the seatbelt off, but
nothing doing. The odor of bile and her late breakfast made her stomach turn and
another whirl of nausea threatened to make her spew. God, she had to get out of the
car!
“Ma’am, are you okay?” asked a masculine voice, followed by the scent of
rainwater.
Crouched down in the V of her now open driver side door, was the most
beautiful man she’d ever seen. She fought back the blackness threatening to engulf her.
She had to stay awake, if only to get his name.

“I, I don’t think so,” she mumbled. She yanked the seatbelt, but it wouldn’t
budge. “I, I think it’s stuck.”
“Shush,” the angel man said. His slanted eyes and warm smile made her relax
even though panic hovered at the edge of exploding. “We’ll get you out of here and
over to Wesley Long Hospital. Ah, Todd, I think she has a mild concussion! There’s a
head injury over here.”
She swallowed again, and this time it was easier. Another man appeared behind her angel, but she didn’t really look at him. Her
gaze kept going to the man with the marvelous voice, kind smile, and sparkling eyes.
He reached over her, leaning into the car. The warmth keening off of him made her go
all gooey inside, and she forced herself to stay awake and her eyes not to droop. This
close, she could tell he was of Asian descent. The arrow straight black hair had been
yanked back into a ponytail, and he didn’t have any facial hair at all. Still, he was
gorgeous. His lips hailed from some other ethnicity—so full, she could tug on them
with her teeth, suck that bottom lip right into her mouth and lick it in abandon. He
smelled good, like a man, but sporty. She inhaled air filled with him and sighed. Wow.
Every man should smell like this one.
Darkness nibbled at her consciousness and her eyes shut leaving her vulnerable
to the approaching black.
*****

“Well, let me help you out of that uniform,” Charlotte teased, the palms of her hands soft
against his torso. Pale, sinewy, and athletic, Mr. Paramedic smirked as she rotated her fingers
across his warm skin.
They made small, circular motions across his chest, and then down to each of his nipples.
Already hard with desire, his nipples tightened even more when her hands slid across them. She
twisted her palms against them and, if possible, they hardened even more. As if she were holding
some invisible string connected to his cock, each pass she made caused it to grow thicker, tenting
his pants below the waist. She’d taken that moment to put her malleable lips onto his left nipple and tug. His arms
grabbed the sofa’s armrest for stability. His mouth tasted like honey, but her lips, they met his
nipple with an electric intensity that bolted through him. Her tongue darted out and flicked the
tortured point. His thigh muscles tensed in response.
“Ah, you like that, Mr. Paramedic.”
“Why yes, Charlotte, I do,” he replied, blithely. “Give me more.”
She nodded, as all efforts to speak had vanished completely in a whirling fit of yearning.
With her free hand, she took his sensitive nub, still wet from her mouth and rubbed it
between her thumb and forefinger, while licking, sucking, and damn the gods, biting his right
one.
Unable to stop himself, he put his hand in her hair and wrapped his fingers in their silky
strands.
“You, you want this, me, Charlotte? You’re certain?”
She stared up at him and scowled. “Absolutely!” She growled and leaned up, grabbing
and greedily seizing his shoulders to pull him down to her from the fantasy bedroom her stressed
and weary mind conjured.
He didn’t have to be told a second time. He curled his arm around her shoulder, holding
her to him. Rising up on her elbows, she thrust her pelvis toward him. Answering her body’s
unspoken demands.
She wouldn’t be denied. Stealing his breath, she shot her hips forward, and captured his
wonderfully steel shaft…

***** “Okay, I think I got your seatbelt, yep, it’s just a little bent,” he explained and
moved back to his original position, outside the car, squatting beside her. “All right,
miss, I’m going to help you out of the car. We’re going to put you right here, on this
stretcher. Do you understand me? Say yes or no. Try not to move your head too much.”
“Yes,” she coughed out her craving and returned to the present. Damn.
She smiled at him, or at least she hoped that was what she was doing, because
her head throbbed with such force, she couldn’t tell what her facial features were doing.
It all hurt.
He leaned forward again, and rooted around her seat until he found the L
shaped bar. He tugged on it and guided her chair as far back from the steering wheel as
it would go. Next, he pushed the driver’s side door until it couldn’t open any further.
When he turned back to her, he sighed and grinned.
“We’ll go slow.”
Yes, slow. Too fast and Charlotte feared she’d puke again.
This time when he crawled into the car, he slipped his hands under her arms
and gently lifted her toward him. Groaning, she fought down the boiling mix of aching
and agony in her stomach. Her head pounded, her back ached, and her world had been
rocked by a Mercedes, but this, this she could get used to—his solid, muscled chest
pressed against hers. His comforting embrace. Yeah. She could spend a lifetime here.
“You’re soaking wet,” he said, surprise making his voice higher. “Get a blanket,
Todd.” She shivered against him and burrowed further into his warmth. He stiffened at

her actions, but didn’t release her. When she gazed up at his triangular face, he smirked
down at her.
“Make it two!” he shouted, making sure he was out of her ear when he did so.
Hugging her to him, he whispered softly, “On the count of three, you get ready to get
out of the car. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“One. Two. Three!”
She pushed herself up, but really, he did all the lifting. He guided her out of the
vehicle and onto the stretcher with haste. It happened so fast, Charlotte wondered how
she’d had time to even blink. Todd, or the man she assumed was Todd, draped first
one, then another blanket over her body. An arctic chill forced her body to quake, and
she couldn’t get warm. Without her angel’s body heat pressed close to her, she couldn’t
stop her teeth from chattering or her body from trembling. All Charlotte wanted was to
be back in that circle of heaven again.
“Close your eyes,” he said, smiling down at her. He pushed the stretcher from
one end and Todd guided it from the other. Drizzles of rain fell to her face, and she
continued to shake, the cold infiltrating the blankets. “You’ll be better in no time.”
“Thank you,” she said, her throat tight, her heart galloping at the sight of him
again.
“You’re welcome,” he said, and patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”
Fine. She took his advice and closed her eyes. Bouts of blackness came and went, but
each time her eyes creaked open, they landed on his face. Being lifted into the
ambulance, traveling in the back, and being rushed into the E.R., all of which she knew
must have happened, but she didn’t see or experience any of them.
“All right, miss, here you are,” her angel said, still smiling down at her. Standing
by her bedside, he put her purse on top of the little table beside the bed. “Here’s your
purse. The police are probably gonna want to talk to you about the accident.”
She nodded numbly. The stitches in her forehead pulled tight and the anesthesia
made her face feel numb. God, she hoped she didn’t drool.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. The doctors and nurses here are good. They’ll take care of you,
Miss Neal.”
Through the cloud of drugs and resonating pain, logic forced the question out of
her mouth.
“Wait, how’d you know my name?”
He blushed a bit. “I peeked at your driver’s license to give your name to the
police officer at the scene.”
She nodded, though giving her consent after the fact was mute.
“What’s your name?” she called as he headed for the exit. Seemed only fair since
he knew hers.
“Ichigo. Ichigo Isamu.”
Chapter Two
Ichigo’s weary muscles groaned as he climbed out of his truck. Rain continued to
pound on his garage’s roof, drumming hard and consistent. Every time it rained people
behaved like they’d lost their minds. It made his day busy—too busy for something as
natural as water. People simply underestimated how dangerous it could be. Those
errors in judgment cost people their lives, their property, and sometimes their limbs,
ability to walk, run, fuck.
“

こんにちはパパ

,”

Hi, daddy,

squealed Kanon, as she zoomed toward him on her

tiny legs.
“Hello, my little flower,” he boomed so loudly, she instantly fell into giggles.
“I not flower, daddy! I a girl!”
Pigtails bouncing, eyes gleaming, and her face glowing, Kanon looked more and
more like her mother every day. The angelic face, the full lips, the free spirit. That
pinched his heart, but he hastily shoved it away. Her mother had left and abandoned
them. He’d give no more thought to the woman and he was damn sure she wasn’t
thinking about them either. He stepped fully into the kitchen, bent down, and swept her
up into the air. The kitchen’s soft, powdery blue walls swirled around as she roared,
powered by her father’s strong arms.
“…and balloons, and bubblegum and cake, and daddy, the teddy fell and…” On and on she talked with fits of giggles in between as his daddy-
induced
turbulence made her peel in laughter.
His daughter. She’d be too big before he knew it. This time, this moment, he had
to snatch, hoard and savor before she sought the arms of a boyfriend. Screw that. Not
ever—not his baby girl. The boy who thought he would be good enough for his
daughter better think again. And so help him if he ever touched her.
“Mr. Isamu,” drawled out from behind him. Ruthless and icy, the voice hinted at
disdain.
Just hearing the voice sliced through the cheery warmth of Kanon’s laughter,

managed to kill it. She got quiet at once. They both frowned, as Ichigo hugged her tight
to his chest and turned to face the somber-toned individual.
Goodness he disliked the woman, and it wasn’t like him to not get along with
most people. When Sybil left, he had had to scramble to get someone to watch Kanon.
He worked nights, and this meant someone had to be here for his five year old
daughter. Funneling through a barrage of strangers wasn’t his idea of finding a good
nanny, and this one had come highly recommended among several choices from his
sister.
He’d have to pay his little sister back for her wonderful reference. But then
Akemi and he never really had the same viewpoints on things. Every bit the stereotype,
his sister had done exactly what his parents had wanted—she was the valedictorian in
high school and college with a damn near perfect G.P.A., she had become a doctor with
a successful practice. Akemi had married a man from Japan, a neurologist, and together they lived in Charlotte in a big house, complete with two
dogs and a private interior
designer on retainer.
He’d taken his own path.
And he’d had to walk it alone, because his parents didn’t want any part of it,
especially when his path involved Sybil.
“Miss Avery.”
Cold. Flat. Dangerous.
She had the humility to swallow hard and clear her throat before she opened her
big pie hole. If only she’d thought before she talked as well, he might be able to stomach
her, but as it was, she spoke.
“Mr. Isamu, Kanon is too wild and undisciplined. I, I thought your, your

people,

were more disciplined than the others. More well behaved, but she, she’s too
energetic…” she rambled off to a whisper.
Perhaps she saw the zip of anger ripping across his face. She stepped back from
him, and nearly tripped over Kanon’s toys. He’d set Kanon down on the floor minutes
ago, she walked across the kitchen, playing with toys. Crossing his arms over his chest,
he took in one deep breath and then met the small, round, rat-like eyes of his nanny. A
tall woman, she barely came up to his chin. The dumpy and strangely oval Miss Avery
had a halo of puffy, bleached blonde hair, and thick meaty arms. She insisted on
wearing tee-shirts and shorts, and sandals. Whatever! Her only job was to make sure
Kanon didn’t get into trouble, and that she was fed and put to bed. Since it was already
after eleven, she’d failed at her job. “My

people

? Do you mean Americans, Miss Avery?”

There, he’d given her a chance to cover up her fuck up. Here, was an out for her.
Idiot woman didn’t take it.
“Uh, Americans,” she managed, and then, finding some source of courage, stood
straighter, and kept going, “your kind, Chinese people are always so…”
“Japanese.”
“What?”
“I’m Japanese American, Miss Avery.”
“Whatever,” she snapped, wiping it away as if his cultural heritage meant
nothing, nothing but cheap words to ignore. Most people only saw his almond shaped
eyes, light ivory skin, and jet black hair and assumed he should be lumped into one
group—Asian. Korean, Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese, and other cultures mashed into
a blog of shit not worth acknowledging.
Screw that. If his only successful thing he did tonight before going to sleep was
educate the terribly ignorant cow in front of him, he would do that.
Kanon’s dark brown eyes bounced between the big woman and him. He couldn’t
tell the woman what he really wanted to say, not in front of his baby girl, but this nanny
had been the bane of his existence for the last six weeks. She had to go.
“I don’t see how my ethnicity has anything to do with you keeping my daughter
safe and fed while I’m at work. In fact, Miss Avery, I don’t even see how it has anything
to do with keeping you employed. Your services, a pathetic as they are, are no longer
needed.” “But, but, I didn’t mean to offend you, Mr. Isamu…”
“You did,” he said, cutting her off and stalking to the front door. “Get out. I’ll
pay you for the rest of the week.”
“Well, if that’s how you see it,” she puffed out. Like a steam engine, she
lumbered around the house getting her stuff together. Scarlet faced, she marched up to
him, and whispered, “Well, Mr. Isamu, I tried to explain that your daughter…”
“Don’t use me as a reference,” he interjected and stepped back, shutting the
door. She had to run to avoid being hit by it.
In the silence of her exit, Ichigo stood beside his coat rack and locked the door.
What would he do now? He had no one to watch Kanon tomorrow night, and he had to
work. After six weeks of her continued babbling and complaining about Kanon’s
enthusiasm, tonight the comment about his people had finally pissed him off. He’d had
enough. Who knew how she treated Kanon during the evening and at night when he
wasn’t around? He checked his girl for marks, bruises, and talked to Kanon a lot at

night, but he didn’t trust Miss Avery. And with her stupid talk tonight, he couldn’t go
another day with that worry in his gut.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
She yawned, her small hands wrapping around his right leg. He smiled, and
scooped her up into his arms. So tiny, so warm, and so vulnerable, she meant more to
him than anything else in the world. She yawned again, and rubbed her eyes. His eyes.
The only thing about her that came from his family glanced up at him as her eyes drooped lower and lower. Long eyelashes stood out against her
caramel skin. The inky
black hair could’ve been his, but then her mother’s hair had been jet black too—curly.
He remembered his fingers getting locked in the mass of Sybil’s soft corkscrews. Along
the edges of Kanon’s pigtails, tight corkscrew curls escaped the barrette’s hold. She’d
have one heck of an afro in a few months.
“Time for bed, baby girl.”
“I’m not sleepy.”
“Yes you are,” he sang back and took the stairs up to her bedroom. She’d put her
head against his shoulder, using it as a pillow. The slurping of her thumb in her mouth
made him smile. Not sleepy? Sure. She’d be out before he made it to her bedroom.
The wash of pink and white had been cast in grays, as her princess nightlight, the
sole arc of illumination, created a few shadowy images. He pulled the bedspread.
Cradling her like he’d done hundreds of times in the last five years, he placed her in
bed. Soft snores rippled up from her and he grinned as he tucked the spread around her
tiny body.
He planted a kiss on her forehead, and she giggled in her sleep.
“Sleep well, baby girl.”
He sighed and headed across the hall to his bedroom. In darkness, he removed
his boots, leaving them at the foot of the bed. Undressing, he wanted a shower and bed.
Dinner could wait until morning. Then it would become breakfast, and he would make
eggs and oatmeal for himself and Kanon. Just as he picked up his uniform and took it over to the hamper, the crumple of paper in his pants’ pocket
grabbed his attention. He
dug in and took out the folded business card.

Charlotte Neal. Elementary school teacher. Joyner Elementary School.

The school’s telephone number, her email address, and the school’s website
address.
Like the queen city to the south of Greensboro, the dark-skinned beauty he’d
help from her car today seemed regal and poised. He liked how she kept trying to avoid
passing out. Fought it like hell. Spunky, she struggled. Her spirit made her sexy. She’d
be a hellcat pinned beneath him, and he liked that in a woman—fire. Charlotte had
plenty of that and he couldn’t deny he wanted a touch of her flame. Let her burn, let her
passion roast him until nothing but his most primal person remained.
“Damn, what have I gotten myself into?”
He tossed his pants into the hamper, but kept the business card out. After pulling
on his pajama bottoms, he sat down at his computer desk, all traces of fatigue gone in
the new excitement of emailing her.
He stopped at the keyboard, his butt frozen between sitting and standing.
She wouldn’t be at school. He’d taken her to the hospital at six o’clock. They
wouldn’t have released her and even if they did, she wouldn’t get the email for days.
He wanted to talk to her right now.

What the hell am I going to say? Hi! Will you be my new nanny? Oh, and by the way, I
like your ass?

Sitting down, he put the business card on the keyboard and rubbed his face. If he
called her at the hospital he wouldn’t have to tell her he went through her purse and
kept a business card. The cops wanted to see her driver’s license and registration.
Charlotte had been out of it, so, he gave it to them. He had no right, and he knew that.
He wasn’t her husband, her lover, or even an acquaintance.
The overwhelming desire to protect her, to keep her safe, to hold her had
overwhelmed him at the accident scene. Yes, she had a fiery spirit, but that caused him
to want to protect it from others who might want to put it out. Ten years as a
paramedic, he’d been to a whole lot of accidents and had seen some shit that made
sleeping difficult, but never, ever, had he wanted so much to hold one person. When he
had her in his embrace, his cock had stiffened to the point he thought she’d notice. He
couldn’t help it. It had to be the most unromantic scene to be turned on in, but
something about her tugged so damn hard on his libido, his cock rose like an obedient
puppet.
“Charlotte,” he said into the dim bedroom.
He liked how her name rolled over his tongue. With his shaft thickening, he
wondered if he’d like how she tasted on his tongue. He licked his lips and tried to
imagine her nether lips. Would they be puffy and wet? Would she taste sweet like
honey?

“Daddy?”
He shot out of his chair and raced across the hall. Kanon sat upright, tears
pouring from her eyes. “Daddy! Monsters!”
He kneeled down beside her bed and held her trembling body to him.
“Shush, baby girl. There aren’t any monsters. Just a bad dream. Shush.”
Her fingers hugged his neck so hard, his heart ached for her.
“Miss Avery…”
He winced and hugged her tighter. “Miss Avery is gone, and she won’t come
back. I promise. Daddy will protect you.”
He’d have to find a damn good nanny. He couldn’t just get anyone, and he
couldn’t rely on references from his ice queen of a sister. With another kiss on the
forehead, Kanon laid back down in her bed. He wiped away the tears still clinging to
her eyes.
“I love you baby girl.”
“Love you too.”
Charlotte had a strong spirit. The same kind of spirit Kanon had. She wouldn’t
expect his daughter to be something she wasn’t because he had a feeling Charlotte
didn’t subscribe to that nonsense. He’d have to call her tomorrow morning.
He wanted a new nanny in more ways than one.
Chapter Three

Three Days Later
The aroma of jasmine wafted the warm air. Lavender blossomed along her skin and
Charlotte sighed in pure unadulterated pleasure, courtesy of her prescription for Vicodin.
Although she knew she was dreaming, she didn’t care. She inhaled the floral scented breezes, and
stretched against the soft grass cushion. Sun poured down from a crisp, cornflower blue sky.
Cotton ball clouds drifted lazily along, as if they too soaked up the wonderful rays like the
flowers, the trees, the grass, and her naked flesh.
Nude in a field covered in a sea of North Carolina wildflowers, Charlotte lay on her back,
enjoying the heat on her nipples, on her face, and along her body. She relished the absence of the
achy pain that had plagued her for the last two days. Feeling both hot and damp, a sheen of sweat
covered her from head to foot. She rubbed her hands across her belly and over her shaved mound,
gently parting her nether lips and smiling as the slick folds glided apart, exposing her throbbing
clit to her fingers. Tickling her love button, she gasped against the still air. She stroked it again,
but to no real relief.
“Don’t,” he ordered, appearing from behind an oak tree’s overcast of leafy green leaves. A
creamy shimmer against the canary sunlight, he walked toward her with determination in his
square shaped face. Ink black hair swirled around him, though there was no breeze. Arrow
straight, his hair whipped about his fine cheekbones and kissable lips when he turned his head, as
if each strand wanted to touch him too. Him. Her angel, her saving samurai. “Let me,” he said and took her hand from her pussy, lifting it to his
lips and licking her
dew from her fingers like honey.
“Ichigo.”
His name summoned more heat to erupt across her flesh, but his cool touch caused the
burning ache inside her to ignite. The triangle between her legs twitched and she shuddered. He
smelled like vanilla and musk, but not at the same time. No, his aroma was all him, a
combination of those two scents mixed with his body’s own chemicals and pheromones.
And she loved it.
Eau de Ichigo.
His hair fell like a curtain to broad shoulders as he lay beside her on the grass. Lithe
muscles glided smoothly beneath his hairless flesh. A thatch of long, ebony eyelashes stood in
sharp contrast to his ivory skin. Chills skated up her spine, making her back arch in yearning as
his hand cupped her breast.
She stuck her free hand between her thighs and raked it over her swollen button.
“Don’t,” he ordered, smacking her hand away as if she’d done something naughty. “My,
what a delightful and gorgeous pussy.”
He lifted himself up and straddled over her. He bent down, and breathed a deep groan
across her love button, making her quiver. He held her hand in his. With his eyes on her, he
opened her hand, took her middle finger, the one she’d used to stroke her fire, and he licked it
again, wrapping his tongue around her digit as if it were a chocolate fudge pop. Then he dipped it
into his mouth, allowing his lips to caress her finger. “Oh, damn,” she heaved, spreading her legs wide, offering a most precious bounty to
him.
“So good,” he said and crouched down between her parted thighs. With nostrils flaring,
he inhaled her, closing his eyes as he did so. “You smell fantastic—feminine and feral. I love it!”
He smiled up at her, a wicked and sinful smile.
Heavenly lips and yet so sinfully seductive slid along the smooth satin of her thigh. They
traveled farther, effortlessly blazing a trail of thirst in their wake. Writhing, Charlotte couldn’t
keep still. She squirmed beneath that frenzied lust his mouth summoned. Gasping, her breath

stuck in her chest, so she couldn’t speak.
Then, a swipe of his tongue, a feather against her stony nubbin caused time to halt. When
he slipped it gently between his lips, her words tore through her and out into the stillness.
“Ichigo! Please!” she panted, as his lovely mouth drifted over her puckered passion point.
“Damn!”
“What? What do you want? What do you desire? Tell me,” he coaxed, before dipping his
head down once more.
His tongue grazed her swollen love button, before sliding along her nether lips. As if they
had an eternity, Ichigo’s mouth sucked at her throbbing bud, before his tongue drifted along her
pussy’s swollen lips.
“You, oh God, you!” she puffed out in a string of syllables. She rocked her hips against
his face.
“Tasty, and yummy,” he said, grinning at her with open longing shining out from his
face. Her juices smeared along the sides of his mouth. “I want you to come for me.” What? Was he crazy? Why did he ask? Didn’t he see her
need? Her ravaging hunger?
“Please…” she gasped.
“What do you need? I want to hear it. Tell me,” he said, voice strained. He pushed on her
thighs to move them off his ears.
With her senses reeling, Charlotte struggled to home on to something solid. Lost, a dingy
tossed about in a stormy ocean of escalating pleasure, she held on, for her little death came closer.
In moments, she had a fistful of his thick silky hair and she thrust her hips against his eager and
quick tongue.
“Please what?”
She moaned. What didn’t he understand? A pool of her desire lay beneath her; surely he
knew what she wanted. Didn’t he hear her moans, her cries of budding ecstasy?
Through half-hooded eyes, she saw his face, full of desire and flushed from his battle with
restraint.
“Yes, and they’re delicious,” he rasped. “Give me more of those sweet, oh, yes, just like
that. More moans and then, I want to watch you come. Come all over my face, my fingers, and
then, you’ll come all over my cock.”
His slender fingers circled her quivering canal. She groaned, and her hips moved with his
fingers, meeting his thrusts with her own. Damn, it felt so wonderful, but she wanted more.
They weren’t enough.
Not nearly enough.
“More!”
“Give me that beautiful cum, and I promise you’ll get more.”

Smack!

He smacked her pussy and she trembled all over. The impact shot fire throughout her
body; raising chills and making her already heavy, aching nipples tighten. She cupped both
breasts and shoved them together before sliding her hands over the nipples. Pulling and pinching
her tips, bolts of pleasure plowed through rational thoughts. She ground her sopping sex into his
face, fucking it.
“Come on,” Ichigo growled. “Come for me.”
“Please! I need you!” she squealed, breathing really hard.
He sucked on her clit so hard, she bucked off the ground. She snatched his head deeper
against her button. His tongue worked her like a whisk, stirring her up into a frenzy, all
emotions melting into one glob of throbbing need. With three, heck, it could’ve been four fingers
fucking her and his mouth nibbling and suckling her button, Charlotte would give him exactly
what he demanded.
“God, I so need your cock!” she confessed.
“Come for me, now!” he cooed, pulling back from her steel hold on his hair. His fingers
drove into her hot core again, and again, and again.
“Oh, fuck!” she shouted.
The rush of orgasm rose up and slammed into her, bowling over her every thought. Her
nails raked his shoulders as her world shattered into a gazillion shards of her self control. They
fell to the wildflower field like diamonds cast amongst a banquet.
Ichigo lay beside her and pulled her into his embrace. “You’re so breathtaking when you’re coming. Makes me wanna fuck your pretty pussy
right now,” he said and patted her ass. “Now is a good time.”
She smiled at him as his lips covered hers…
*****

Charlotte blinked against the bright, stinging morning rays. Stiff and sore, she
rose up on her elbows. Her living room came into a fuzzy sort of focus, clear in the
middle but a bit blurred around the edges. Nothing out of place, the area didn’t seem to
be lived in. Hell, maybe she should just call it a front room.
Yeah, that fit.
She slowly slid her legs to the sofa’s edge, sitting up fully as she did so. Groaning

at the flare of agony in her back and shoulders, she gritted her teeth. Her neck burned
too, and her head throbbed in complaint. Maybe leaving the hospital early wasn’t the
best idea. She felt like she’d been in a car wreck.
Oh wait! She had.
Smirking at her own internal jokes, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on
her knees.
The only part of her that felt good rested between her legs. The throbbing there
felt fantastic. She savored the memory of her dream. Talk about a dream man. Easily
over six feet tall, almond shaped eyes, smooth ivory skin and above all that fall of jet
black, arrow straight hair. Yummy. There, on the coffee table next to her bottle of big
white pills was a card. She reached for the business card. Her business card, with a handwritten telephone number on the back—and a name. His
name. That name. The
one that even now made her button

ping

.

Ichigo Isamu.
One of her hands wrapped around the hard plastic bottle, and the other around
the cardstock. Peering at the number, she took a deep, steadying breath. Why had he
given her his number? The only wording beneath his number were three words—

Call

me, soon.

She picked up her cell phone. What the hell?
It was that kind of thinking that had landed her with a lifetime of losers.
Charlotte paused. The accident came after she and the last idiot ended things, like some
jacked up plot in a novel. Let the mistress get hers. She sighed, thinking back on the
horny dream she’d had of Ichigo. Wrecked, her body didn’t want to move from the
sofa, but she had to get mobile. The accident had to be karma’s boomerang. Her tally
would soon be measured and if her deeds of love were found wanting, then she’d be
hurt all over again—the boomerang’s return. The foolish found her incredibly hopeful.
But this guy, a paramedic.
A handsome, articulate, and damn

fine

paramedic. Would he be as demanding as

he’d been in her dream? Would he be as vocal? Would he smack her pussy and make
her world explode in ecstasy? Hell, would he smell as good as she remembered? Would
he eat her out as heartily as her fantasy version?
Hell, she had to know. The questioning only succeeded in making her clit throb
at the memory and her thighs to become glazed in anticipation of his cock. Her fingers flipped the card over and over again in her hands.
She was due some good luck. Maybe this one was it.
Her curiosity ate up her logic and her better judgment.
The phone rang and someone answered on the third ring.
“Hello?” the hint of an accent disappeared before she even was sure she heard it.
“May I speak to Mr. Isamu?” she asked, sitting up straighter as though he could
see her slouchy posture.
“Yes.”
The timbre raked heat all over her. If he were a salesman, she would buy 10 of
whatever he sold.
“This is Charlotte,” she breathed into the phone. The urge to purr tickled her
throat. She wiped her hands on her legs while the other hand held the pill bottle tight.
“Yes?” he repeated and she thought she heard the briefest chortle.
Frowning, Charlotte looked at the phone, read the number, and then put it back
to her ear. She didn’t know him, but he acted like he hadn’t expected her to call him.
“I, uh, got your number. You left it for me at the ER, so I wanted to know why
you wanted me to call you.” Well duh. Of course he knew he gave her the number.
How else would she be able to call him?
“I need you to meet with me.”
“Why?”
“I will be at Sushi Republic on Tate Street at two tomorrow afternoon. See you
there.” “But, wait, what do you--”
The call had ended.
She stared at the phone with a frown on her face, but a deep throb between her
thighs.
Chapter Four

The Next Day

At two in the afternoon, the absence of murmurs and the buzzing around the bar
and the slow lull of the post-lunch rush wrapped Ichigo and Charlotte in the soft hush
of the warm heated air. Dark ebony tables covered in ivory tablecloths sat coupled with
chocolate leather booths and chestnut wood chairs. Throughout the compacted space,
innocent ivories, bold scarlets, and vibrant verdant abound from framed art to napkins,
to chopsticks. Light music sounded strangely like the same one that played at the
Chinese place over on High Point Road, but still, the singer had a great voice. Not as
delightful as the woman in front of Ichigo.
Not even close.
“What do you want?” Charlotte asked, her voice betraying just a hint of irritation

mixed with curiosity. Her body conveyed more to him than her words. Her arms folded
defensively across the swell of the luscious curve of her breasts. The continued tapping
of her foot against the slick tile of the sushi restaurant, told Ichigo that he’d better start
talking before she bolted out the double doors.
“You called me,” he said, smirking outright at her little tantrum. He couldn’t
help but smile at her. Charlotte again, had begun to put on the spunk she’d shown at
the accident site. She wouldn’t just walk out, not right away. Once he told her what he
wanted, she might, but for now her curiosity held her fast to her seat. He had to admit it. Her being angry made his stomach tighten and stirred his
hunger—not the eating
kind either.
To put it simply, she was stunning and stirring when angry. Those pools of
chocolate brown eyes intensified so much so he wanted to kiss each of her eyelids.
“Just tell me why you left your telephone number on one of my business cards,”
she quipped, re-crossing her legs and sighing loudly. “I’m here.”
Yes, as if her very presence meant that all had to kowtow to her will. Damn.
“I know,

王女

.”

Her bangs brought attention to her eyes, and the slight pout of her mouth made
other parts of his body take notice. She wore jeans and a peach turtleneck sweater that
highlighted the gold undertones of her glowing skin, making him want to lick her,
nibble across her neck, her ears and her full, fabulous lips.
“What did you just call me?” she snapped.
“Princess.”
She glowered at him.
“What is it you want?”
“Are you currently employed?”
“Why?”
Her shoulders stiffened. She sat up straighter, and her eyes narrowed. With a
small groan, she closed her eyes and opened them slowly, as if her eyelids weighed two
tons. “Are you all right?” he asked, reaching for her hand across the table. A drop of
fear blossomed in his chest. “It’s been three days since the accident, I didn’t know…”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s too soon to be 100%, Charlotte,” he said sternly. “Some injuries like
whiplash and hairline fractures don’t show up at first.”
“Everything hurts, all right?” she barked, her hand so casually lying on the dark
surface, balled into a fist. “You happy?”
“No,” he answered, a bit surprised she’d think he wanted her to be in pain. The
anger she directed at him wasn’t really meant for him, but at the pain. “I’m a
paramedic, remember? I don’t want you in pain.”
She rubbed her neck and winced.
“Didn’t they give you a pain reliever?”
“Yeah,” she confessed softly. With her eyes closed, she added, “But, they’re
prescription strength and I…” she trailed off.
“Don’t want to become addicted,” he finished for her. Brave soul because the
rear end collision to her car and the seatbelt whiplash probably left her in a great deal of
agony.
“Yeah,” she said, opening her eyes and sighing. “So, what do you want?”
“Are you employed? Yes or no?” he said, leaning back in the chair.
“No,” she said. “The economy is terrible.”
He figured as much. The business card in her purse had frayed edges and
seemed a bit worse for wear. Maybe she got that a year ago, or something, but still, the fact that she wasn’t working did surprise him. It fell in his
favor because he needed her,
but it bothered him too. He didn’t like the image of her struggling or needing money or
anything. Not his princess.
Listen to him.

His.

Hell, she wasn’t even his employee and he was already way

ahead of himself.
Again that fierce urge to protect her shot through him and he had to make
himself unclench his fists beneath the table. Charlotte shouldn’t have to need for
anything. Ever.
She made things low in his body tighten and tingle.
“It is,” he agreed, trying to keep the heat out of his words. He flashed a smile,
and the wrinkle of worry across her face eased.
“What did you do for employment?” He already knew, but wanted to hear it
from her firsthand. He didn’t want to assume anything.
“Teach,” she said, and her face brightened like a full moon in an inky black sky.
“Elementary.”
“One of the safest jobs in this economy. They don’t fire teachers, cops, or
firefighters,” he said, and sipped his water. His throat had gone dry.
“Normally, yes, but the school district just cut about 200 jobs, mine included,”
she said.

No longer irritated or angry, she stared off in the direction of the sushi chef’s U
shaped heaven. There, he worked on the delight of uncooked fish. Ichigo had arrived at
one and had already eaten a spicy California roll, some eel, and few other items, before Charlotte arrived. Now, only his water with lemon remained
in front of him. Charlotte
hadn’t ordered anything. Not even water.
“I want to offer you a job.”
Her arched eyebrow rose in question and she gave him an intense single up and
down sweep of her eyes. “What kinda job?”
The image popped into his head. Charlotte in a French maid uniform, dusting
his, uh, house, and then, he burst out laughing.
“Oh, what’s funny?” she snapped, her defenses back up, arms unfolded but now
leaning on the dark chestnut table. “Are you some kinda of freak stalker?”
“You called me, remember, princess?”
“Just tell me about the job.”
“Well, I need to ask you a few questions first.”
She shrugged. “Like an interview.”
He nodded, distracted by the flow of curls that fell to her shoulders. Even in the
low lights, the curls’ highlights reflected illumination in her strands.
“Fire away,” she said, and folded her hands together.
“What age group did you work with?”
“Elementary school age children from six to ten years old.”
Good. Kanon was right around the age she worked with.
“Which do you prefer?”
“Excuse me?” she balked. “Is that about my sexuality? What kind of job is this?” Shit! She still thought this was some strange sex recruitment.
Where was her
head?
Probably right in the gutter with his.
“No, no,” he said, a chortle escaping. “I was referring to the age group of
children. Which do you prefer to teach?”
“The little ones are darlings, but I think probably six to eight are the most
precious to me,” she said, her warm eyes took on that faraway look but this time they
showed a joy. She liked teaching and she missed it. Whoever fired her had made a
grave error. Not that it mattered now. It was his gain.
Perfect.
“My daughter is five years old,” Ichigo explained. “I would like to--”
“You have a daughter?”
“Yes, she’s five, and I need a nanny,” he said, blowing out a puff-mixed sigh. “I
work nights, and I need someone to care for her while I’m working. I don’t just want
anyone.”
Charlotte swallowed.
“A nanny? Me?”
He could almost see her wheels turning.
“I want you.”
“Do you now?” she asked coyly, again a hint of a smile graced her sensual
mouth.
Yeah, he did. “Yes,” he croaked around the desire lodged in his throat. “I do.”
The air thickened with tension, but he had to think with his other head.
Manhandling her wouldn’t do. Charlotte deserved better and he’d give it to her. A regal
lady, a princess, he had to be a gentleman and stop thinking of how badly he wanted to
make love to her. He had to reign himself back in because scaring her off wouldn’t get
him any closer to either of his goals: finding a good nanny for Kanon, and making
Charlotte his—permanently.
He tried again to ease her nervousness, though her teasing conveyed he wasn’t
the only one struggling to keep it light and professional.
“You won’t have to live with me,” he began, fear making his belly burn. “I mean,
you are welcome to spend the night.”
She looked at him then, and gave him that arched eyebrow questioning
expression that meant she didn’t believe him, or worse, she did.
“Uh, so, are you interested?” he asked, and instantly groaned. That too sounded
like a pick up line. Fuck. He couldn’t get any of it right. Tongue-tied and perspiring like
some teenage boy at a nude beach, he couldn’t believe the fucking effect she had on
him.
“Ichigo,” she said, now laughing at him. “I believe you’re more handsome with
that soft blush on your cheeks.”
“Thank you.”
He cleared his throat and sipped more water. Damn, was it hot in here or what?
“So, uh, are you interested in the job?” She wrinkled her nose and he smiled instantly. The beautiful slope of her nose
crinkled in thought. She drummed her fingers on the table, her polished fingernails
clicking against the glossy surface.

“Let me hear the specifics,” she said shrewdly. “And after that, I’m going to ask
some questions of my own.”
“Fair,” he said. “The days are Sunday through Friday. It rotates on a five-day
basis. So, sometimes I work Sunday through Thursday, and other weeks, I work
Monday through Friday. You will arrive at my house at 5pm and stay with Kanon until
I come back home around 2am. You are to fix her a dinner at or around 6pm. You are to
help her to bed, which is at 8pm.”
“Pay?”
“What do you make on a monthly basis as a teacher?”
“You can’t pay me what a school district pays,” she snorted in disbelief.
“You dont know what I can and cannot do, Miss Neal,” he replied, and let the
heat of his desire course through those words. Hell, he had to release some of it or
explode, and while climbing over the table and shoving his tongue into her curvy
mouth sounded like a good plan, it would probably land him in prison. So, he allowed
himself ten seconds of delight in thinking about what he’d do to her and with her. He’d
never wanted a woman as much as he wanted the one seated across from him.
And he had no idea why.
It reminded him of sharks. Her scent, her fury, her smile, her laugh, the way her
nose did that thing when she was thinking, and the way her chin jutted up when she was irritated or mad had seized his self control from his grasp
and into her small hands.
He couldn’t think straight.

Sometimes, love just knocks you down, right on your ass, and Ichigo, it’s usually when
you’re not looking

, as his sister’s husband had told him long ago when he married

Ichigo’s sister. Ichigo laughed at him because really, who would love his ice queen of a
sister?
“I don’t,” Charlotte said stiffly, and hitched up her chin. “I don’t think I’m a
good fit for you, mister, uh…”
“Isamu,” he finished for her, his eyes narrowing. What she said didn’t mean she
actually believed it. He could see her nipples like stone points peaking through her silk
blouse, begging for his mouth, his fingertips, his tongue. The thickness of her arousal
meshed with the odor of fresh fish, soy sauce, and Saki. Tiny beads of sweat dotted her
forehead, and they spoke to the fact that he wasn’t the only one feeling the heat
between them.
He leaned across the table, nearly close enough to kiss her. She reared back
further out of his reach, but he could see her lick her lips. She wanted his kiss, she just
fought it down. Sensible.
“I think you’re going to be perfect for the job,” he said slowly, letting his voice
rumble across her face. “I am willing to pay what you made as a teacher.”
“You, you don’t know how much that is,” she panted out, wiping her forehead.
Sitting back into his seat, he pinned her with his gaze and made sure to hold her
eye contact as he told her truth “You don’t understand, Miss Neal. I will have you, regardless of the price.”
Chapter Five

Two Weeks Later

The biting aroma of French Roast coffee hung in the space between the rather
ornate foyer and the lived-in den. A mixture of themes of modern minimalist and urban
contemporary gave the rooms a transitory feel. Like the room was either being
refurbished or had never been completed. Charlotte didn’t know which. The foyer
gleamed, but the parade of toys, balls, and scattered blankets grew in number the closer
she got to the den.
“You have an interesting home,” Charlotte said, standing in the den’s archway.
She tried not to stare too much at her new boss as he came strolling down the hallway.
Dressed like the first time she met him, Ichigo wore the midnight black
paramedic slacks that clung to his muscled thighs and the crisp white uniform shirt that
bore the City of Greensboro symbol and his last name two inches over his heart. That
heavenly ivory lent itself to the divine and he was

damn fine.

He flashed those equally

brilliant teeth in a smile so sexy she let out a puff-mixed sigh of deep-seated longing.
“Eclectic, you mean?” he asked. “Sit down. Drink some coffee, relax a bit,” he
said, and strolled by her into the den.
His scent wafted against her and she bit her lip to stem the moan that rose up
fast against her throat. Damn he smelled so good. She walked to the plaid covered couch and sat down. Lowering herself into the
soft, worn cushions with a thread of nervousness slithering in her stomach. On the
cherry-wood stained end table, rested fine bone china cups of coffee. The dark liquid
steamed. The set seemed too feminine to be in a single male’s home.
He handed her a cup of coffee, and she jumped a bit as his fingers brushed hers.
Beside them, a clear container of sugar, a spoon, and a metal carafe of creamer all had
been neatly placed. She fixed her coffee to her liking, despite it being four in the
afternoon. Without looking directly at him, Charlotte could feel his eyes on her. She
didn’t know when he had poured her cup or made the pot. She’d only just arrived ten
minutes ago.

“So, how goes your recovery?” Ichigo asked, crossing his legs as he sat beside
her on the sofa. His glossy black hair held by a thick rubber band, ponytailed at the base
of his neck.
“I found a good chiropractor and he’s fixing the little kinks,” she said, rubbing
her shoulder. “I’m off the Vicodin.”
“Excellent. I’m glad you’re doing better,” he said.
From the warmth of his voice, she could tell he meant it. It made her stomach
bubble.
Silence, but his eyes stayed on her. He sipped his coffee, the cup seemingly tiny
in his large hands. He stared at her over the rim, and those eyes twinkled. What was he
thinking?
“So, tell me about your daughter,” she said. Damn it. Her voice wavered. “Kanon’s a good girl. Spirited, but she has a kind, loving heart.”
“I’m sure she is.” What else could she say? His tone implied that he’d had to say
that a lot of times. “How many nannies has she had?”
His face closed.
Her belly burned in warning. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t put her finger
on it, but his comment about how wonderful his daughter was, now he wouldn’t even
look at her and his smile had wilted and gone from his face, plus his death grip on his
cup all told her something more was going on here.
“Several,” he answered at last. “She is a good girl. Spirited and a bit
rambunctious, but not bad.”
She nodded. “So, you’ve said.”
He paused, opened his mouth to say something, closed it and then said, “Make a
list of what items you need to cook dinners. I will get them from the grocery store
tomorrow. Her favorites are fruit, pancakes…”
“Pancakes? For dinner?”
“Yes, she is a delightful free spirit,” he beamed, picking invisible lint from his
pants.
“You love her a lot,” she said, her heart warming. The misgivings’ roar grew
faint.
“Yes,” he said. “She’s my world.”
“I can tell.” “Well, you should meet her,” he said, checking his watch. “You can decide for
yourself. Kanon!”
Kanon’s bubbling giggles poured into the den before the raven haired girl.
“Daddy!”
Beautiful. The word failed to truly capture her beauty and the overused word
paled to really explain the darling, button cute little girl. Dressed in girl-pink shorts and
a purple-heart covered tee-shirt, she could’ve been cut out from a catalog.
Ichigo swept her up into a fast hug, before slowly tumbling her down to the
carpet. Giggles flowed from her tiny mouth. She clasped both plump hands around his
legs making him uncross them. She crawled behind and peered outward.
Her dark eyes fell on Charlotte and instantly the laughing stopped. A tiny,
curious grin stayed, but those eyes were suspicious.
Yeah. Charlotte had seen that before—on her father.
“Don’t be shy,” he said down to her. He leaned over so he could look directly at
her. “This is your new nanny, Miss Neal.”
“Call me Charlotte,” she said, getting to a seated position on the floor across
from Kanon. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m happy to get to know you.”
“Be polite, flower, say hello.”
Kanon burrowed further back from Charlotte’s outstretched hand. Big shiny
tears glimmered in her eyes and her lower lip trembled as her grip tightened on her
father’s pants. Ichigo stood up, collecting her into his arms as he did so. She clutched her to
him, clinging for dear life.
“I, I don’t…” Charlotte started, but found her voice trailing off. She didn’t know
what to do or say. Never in her three years of teaching and two years of student
teaching had she seen that reaction to her by a child. Shyness, sure, but the level of
uncertainty, no.
Ichigo cooed and patted Kanon, but his eyes were all for Charlotte. Pain flashed
across them, and then in a blink, it was gone.
“She’s a good person. I won’t leave you with someone who will hurt you, Kanon.
I trust Miss Neal.”
Something garbled by tears and hiccups replied.
“No, uh, my flower,” he whispered softly, his eyes closing as he held her tighter.
Charlotte slowly got to her feet. She felt like an intruder and she didn’t even do
anything. Maybe this wasn’t for the best. The child had gone through several nannies
and where was her mother?
“Mister Isamu…”
“Please, call me Ichigo,” he said, rocking Kanon against him.
“Okay, Mister, uh, Ichigo…”

“Give me a moment.” He walked to the archway. “Don’t leave.”
“Listen, I…”
He hovered in the entranceway, his back to her. Small hands thrown over his
neck clutched the white fabric for dear life. “Don’t leave.”
With that he was gone.
Charlotte swallowed and tried to reign in her emotions. Damn him. The girl was
fragile, and she didn’t know quite how to exit this situation gracefully. She needed the
job. Her rent was already a month in arrears. The accident, the hospital bills, and the
chiropractor each squeezed her for every drop she had and that wasn’t much. Her
savings had edged ever closer to being in the red.
But this child…
In minutes, the soft, cheerful voices flooded the den from some other room in the
house. Ichigo strolled back into the den, and plopped down onto the sofa. He blew out a
low stream of air.
“I apologize,” he said, folding his hands in front of him, lacing his fingers
together. “She’s been through several nannies over the last few years. She’s a bit
cautious.”
Charlotte nodded in understanding. The girl had been through a lot of change.
“Where’s her mother?”
Ichigo’s head snapped up. His eyebrows crouched down over his eyes, and face
became like a stone. Stiffly, he stood up. Without waiting, he shoved his hands into his
pockets. Over his shoulder, he said, “It’s a long story, and I have a short time before I
have to be at work.”
“Of course,” she said, feeling the flush burn across her cheeks. What a damn
dumb question to ask. Sometimes she should think before she opened her mouth. “Telephone numbers for the police, the poison control center, are
all listed on the
fridge. I’ll be back here about one or two,” he plowed on like he hadn’t heard her. “Call
me if you have questions. Leave a message if I don’t answer.”
He vanished into other parts of the house and Kanon’s whimpers could be heard.
Here goes nothing, Charlotte walked to the door and waited.
Before she knew it, Ichigo came down the hallway, stealing her breath once
more. God, he was so damn yummy.
“If you’re awake when I get home, I’d like to talk,” he said, touching her
shoulder and making her panties wet with need. “I want to know how she does.”
“I think we’ll be all right,” Charlotte said, putting more confidence in her words,
than what she actually felt.
His face changed from solemn to relaxed. A small smile appeared.
“Oh, there is no doubt about that at all,” he said, eyes locking onto hers. “You are
the only thing I’m sure about right now. She will come to like you as much as I do.”
Instantly, the warm heat crept up her neck and she knew he saw it. Curse it all to
hell. That’s exactly what she’d been thinking. How was he able to read her so well? She
prided herself on being able to cover and clothe how she felt in a cool, apathetic mask.
Ichigo saw through it without even trying hard. Those slender eyes saw
everything and she felt naked without her clothes.
“…I’m a man looking for a quality woman. Charlotte, I’m certain I found that in
you.” She hugged herself and choked down the gasp. Why did he make her feel like a
bowl of jello?
“Thank you, boss,” she said, emphasizing the boss so that he and she both could
return to their senses.
A major coup unfurrowed inside her. Raw, sore, and vulnerable from her
proximity to Ichigo, she couldn’t afford to give herself to him. Intoxicated, she had
become drunk on his essence. He held her gaze. Fiery lust shone from the cocoa pools
and it caused an ocean to flood her panties.
Damn she wanted his mouth on hers, his hands on her, and she wanted him
inside, deep and pulsating, pounding out that fire until nothing remained of her
hesitation, only ecstasy.
Chapter Six
Balled up beneath his grandmother’s tattered blue blanket on his sofa, a
delightful bon bon, Charlotte slept peacefully. The jangle of his key in the door, the
clunk of his shoes being left in the foyer, and his deep breathing didn’t wake her. Her
chest rose and fell in a rhythm all her own. He was thankful to be able to witness her
sleeping form. Lips slightly parted, face relaxed, only her eyes fluttered like butterfly
wings in the stillness of her visage. Beautiful didn’t begin to describe her, but it was a
start.
He’d already gone to check on his little flower, and he found Kanon tucked into
her bed, sound asleep. How Charlotte had gotten her into pjs and bed was anyone’s
guess. Leaning against the den’s archway, he envisioned himself coming home to
Charlotte and finding her warmth in the dark expanse of his bed, lying beside her body
generating heat. And when his hunger to have her awake, he’d reach for her and touch

her flame.
Weary, worn out, and hungry, Ichigo left her to sleep. Fumbling around the
kitchen, he wondered how well the night went. Kanon’s initial reaction worried him.
Clean dishes, neatly packaged food, hell, she’d even taken out the garbage. All of
Kanon’s toys had been put away in the den’s toy chest and her numerous blankets
folded up and stacked onto an overstuffed chair. Damn, Charlotte should get double
pay for maid duties. He hadn’t expected this. Tortured throughout the night, he couldn’t wait to get home to his daughter, and the little electric zeal of
seeing Charlotte
again.
At only 1:23 in the morning, he’d driven home like a NASCAR hopeful. He’d
clocked out right at one, shocking his fellow coworkers. Screw them. Normally, he
stayed a few minutes later to check that all the paperwork was filed. Kanon was asleep,
so he didn’t exactly bolt out the door toward home every night.
But tonight he’d done just that.
He had new motivation for going straight to his house.
“Hey, welcome home,” came the smoky, husky murmur across the aroma of
coffee and the bubbling of boiling eggs. “You’re noisier than a freight train, you know
that?”
He smiled and turned around. Charlotte stood in the entranceway, the blanket
still wrapped around her beautiful shoulders. The sweater hugged her breasts so well
his hands were jealous. They itched to be cupping those firm pillows, to rip through the
fabric and spy her lovely delights. Jeans skimmed the full flare of her hips and lush
thighs.
She rubbed her eyes and met his smile with her own.
“Thanks,” he managed around the rasp of horniness in his throat.
“Welcome,” she said through a yawn. “It went well tonight.”
“Did it? Tell me what you and Kanon did today.”
He couldn’t believe he had to reel himself back in. His libido fought tooth and
nail against the reigns, but he had to keep it back. He couldn’t say what he meant to say, so he fell back into casual chitchat—for now. Scaring her
off wouldn’t serve his purpose
anyway. No, he wanted her to himself. All to himself, but he’d share with Kanon.
“Well, we watched Dora for a bit, played with dolls and blocks, and the tea party
sealed it.”
He laughed. “She loves tea parties.”
“Yeah. We made little cakes and cocoa,” she explained, with a crooked grin.
“She’s still very reserved, but we covered some ground today. Tomorrow, we’ll try
again.”
“Good,” he said, relieved, and it made her chuckle. Whew! She was coming back
tomorrow. “I’m glad she settled in.”
“Yeah, she’s cute.”
“Uh, huh,” he said over the rim of his steaming coffee. He sipped then put the
cup down on the counter. “Tell me the truth. I can take it.”
“I bet you can,” she quipped and came further into the artificial light. She
climbed up on a bar stool at the center of the room with one hand. The kitchen island
took up most of the floor space in the u-shaped room.
“You doubt it?”
“No,” she whispered.
It sounded like she did. He’d have to fix that.
“I can prove it,” he said, letting the heat roll off him. His walls that shielded his
hunger crashed down with a slow blink from her eyes. To hell with professionalism, he
wanted her pure and simple. And he meant to have her and that was that. “Oh, there’s no doubt about that,” she said with a chortle. “I think you’d
better
check on your eggs, Casanova.”
Shit! He went back to the stove and turned down the bubbling water a bit. Her
laugher mixed in with the gurgling bubbles. The hint of scorching burned his nose.
“Guess they’re ready.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her.
“So,” he said, not making it a question. “You want to eat some eggs.”
She laughed, shattering the tension. She nodded, taking his hand. Clutching the
blanket with one hand, she smiled.
A beautiful thing to behold.
“Yeah, sure.”
A giddy zeal raced over him. Quickly, he transferred the pot to the sink. Cold
water cooled down the eggs, but not the hot flames of his carnal desire. He busied
himself with getting the bowls and a fork. Not that it took a great deal of concentration,
hell the hard part was not thinking about her. In minutes he handed her an egg. She
rolled the eggshell from the egg and went about eating it.
“You’re stunning,” he said. “So, so, wow!”
That sounded like a damn teenager! Why did she make him go all goofy?

“Thank you,” she breathed, “but if you’re trying to take me, you’re going to have
to do better than that.”
Did she mean for him to take her?
He smirked. “I see.” She did too.
He gave his attention back to Charlotte. She was still grinning at him. She knew
she unnerved him. He’d have to spank her lovely ass for teasing him.
“So,” Charlotte said coyly, fingering the fringe of the blanket. “Where’s her
mom?”
Her gaze cut toward him and studied his face for hints or permission that this
line of questioning was okay. It wasn’t what he wanted to talk about right now. Hell he
didn’t want to talk at all, but she deserved to know.
Their eyes met and before he knew it, he stood beside her stool, dangerously in
her personal space. He reached for her, and Charlotte leaned into his open palm
without hesitation. He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to fully face
him. His hand on her chin, he guided her closer, he couldn’t stop himself from tasting
her.
“You’re not going to let me off the hook, are you?” he asked, setting his cup
down, holding her gaze.
“Nooo. I like watching you wiggle.”
“Enjoy it, do you?” he whispered, releasing her chin and circling behind her. He
breathed against her ear, letting his tongue trace the shell of her lobe, tasting the salt of
her flesh. His tongue hummed in glee.
“Yes…” she hissed, her body rising as his lips trailed down the smooth slope of
her neck and on to the hardness of her collarbone and over the round of her shoulder,
the sweater’s fabric getting into his mouth. “Ichigo!” God, he loved how she whispered his name. Yes! He could listen to that forever.
His cock grew heavier as she repeated it and grabbed his shirt. He grinned against her
neck where he’d traveled up again. His teeth glided along her flesh there, making her
clutch him tighter.
“Ichigo!”
“Yes?”
“Stop!” She put her other hand on his forehead to physically halt his progress.
Trembling against him, her breathing began to slow.
“I like watching you wiggle,” he retorted, a devilishly wicked smile curved the
corner of his mouth, widening at the pleasure on her face.
She giggled. “Touché.”
He folded her into his embrace, and she let him, snuggling into him as if cold.
The blanket had fallen to the floor in a hush shortly after he kissed her ear. With her
head on his chest, Charlotte sighed, and it sounded happy and pleased, like she
belonged right here, like she wanted to be there.
Ichigo had no intentions of ever letting her go.
A stranger, but she felt right, perfect in his arms. He had never believed in true
love. And after Sybil, he never thought he’d want to love again or put in the damn
effort, but Charlotte made him want all of those things again.
“How am I doing?” he whispered in a rasp, letting his fingers stroke the smooth
flesh of her chin and relishing how silky it felt.
“Good,” she said, her lower lip trembled. “Let me kiss you,” he said, and without pausing he brushed his lips across the
expanse of hers. His cock jumped at the exquisiteness of her mouth. So lush and soft.
She licked her lips and his heavy phallus thickened.
Damn.
He had to have more.
Her tender hand closed over his and she moaned after the second kiss.
Those delectable lips parted, inviting his tongue entrance. Come taste me, she
seemed to say, and he did. Slow, as if his eternity was created for this sole purpose—
kissing her. His tongue explored her mouth, every sweet corner, every delicious drop of
her sugary essence. She moaned again and the hum of her pleasure made his rod rigid.
So hard, he could probably crack the island’s marble countertop.
“Um,” she mumbled, breaking the kiss. “Wow.”
He smiled.
“I, I don’t uh know what just happened.”
“Well, that’s a kiss.”
“Funny…”she said.
“And a damn good one,” he added, his grip still firm. “If I do say so myself.”
She smiled, pulling her hand free. She squirmed against the ebony leather of the
stool.
“Yeah, it was, but we shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.
“Yes we should.” He kissed her softly on the forehead before she broke completely free of his
embrace. She quivered, the shudder rippling through her. Sliding off the stool, she
reached down to scoop up the blanket.
What happened? Did he push too hard? She was acting strange. Something was

bothering her.
“My wife left me,” he said, the words popping out like a net to catch her from
leaving. The words sounded strange now that he’d aired them in the open. He’d
thought them to himself for years, but now, nestled against the new spark, his hope
rekindled and his doubts burned. “She just packed her stuff, left Kanon at a babysitter,
and vanished.”
Quiet settled around them. Charlotte wouldn’t face him. Pulling away, she
hugged the blanket to her body. He sighed. Might as well tell her all of it. He wanted to
hug her, but she didn’t seem to want him to. She’d asked about his ex-wife, so he’d best
tell her all of it.
“So, about two years ago, I got served divorce papers from her, out of Nevada.
No explanation except the usual. She also gave up her parental rights. She cut us out of
her life.”
“She left her daughter,” Charlotte said, like she couldn’t quite believe it. “Kanon
was three?”
“Or there bouts,” he said, shrugging. The past was past. He wanted to embrace
the present in more ways than one.
“Did you look for her?” “Nope,” he quipped, reaching for Charlotte, unable to fight off the desire any
longer. Enough talk. He had other ideas for what they could do with their mouths.
“No?”
“No,” he repeated. At first, he’d thought to go after Sybil, but didn’t. “If she
didn’t want us, why try to make her? She made her intentions clear.”
“That’s just, just foul. How could she just go?”
He couldn’t agree more. But to be honest, he only wanted to kiss Charlotte, not
talk about Sybil.
“That’s long over,” he croaked, touching her wrist.
She looked at him then.
“Is it?”
Ah, there. That was why she questioned him and had pushed him away. She was
scared. Worried.
“From the moment you puked in your passenger seat,” he said, “You’ve been all
I’ve thought about.”
She snorted in laughter.
Finally, she fell into his arms and he hugged her close. She smiled, and although
he couldn’t see it, he could feel it.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I got you,” he said, dropping another kiss to her brow.
“You think you got me?” “Yes, because you have me,” he explained. He lifted her chin up to his and
kissed her.
Soulful and searching, the kiss deepened, plunging into his soul and stirring it
until it boiled. Unwilling to break the kiss, he gently sucked at her tongue. God, this
woman dropped her anchor into his emotional storm. She would pull him asunder if
she tried to leave. He had to remain tethered to her. He pressed her closer to him,
unable to get enough.
Breaking the kiss, he croaked out a warning.
“I know this, this is new, but damn it, Charlotte, tell me now, right now, if you
want me to stop.”
Instead of answering him, she parted her legs and yanked him to her. Her
salacious and horny grin fed his own ravenous lust. Hot damn!
His eagerness nearly tore though the polyester of his uniform pants, but to hell
with it, he pushed against her, reclaiming her lips for himself. Heaven melded into a
single breath. And he was blessed with each and every single exhale. A gift and glory
all ripe in a sweet chocolate coating, Charlotte begged for him to unwrap her passion.
And he would.
Chapter Seven
Charlotte’s stomach lurched as Ichigo’s lips skimmed along her jaw, drawing
goose bumps in the wake of his soft, butterfly kisses. Her swollen lips throbbed from
the force of his kiss, but his mouth, that luscious mouth had drifted on. He lowered his
face to rub his cheeks, his mouth, and his nose against her skin as if he meant to grind
his exquisite scent into her own, mixing them until she smelled like him. Even when she
left, she’d still be able to inhale him against her flesh.
“You smell like heaven, like angels, and sweetness,” he mouthed against her
collarbone. It wafted up against her neck, tickling under her chin and smelling strongly
of coffee. Up her spine, his hand traveled, stirring her desire into a glowing buzz.
She grinned, and pulled him closer, unable and unwilling to break his hold, to
leave his embrace. Taking a deep breath, she fingered a few strands of his hair, feeling
the satin tresses glide through her digits, bringing shivers to her back, as her spine
tingled. Her heart flipped when he nipped at her collarbone, making her gasp. Her grip
fastened in his hair, snatching it roughly in her fist, he grunted, but his kisses

intensified.
Melting against him, she stopped thinking about anything except the flurry of
sensations shooting through to her core, making her quiver and gush in anticipation.
Her baser instincts roared over the quiet pleading of her logic to stop, to step away, and to halt her path into the dangerous territory she found
herself in. Her clit tightened to
stone. She wanted him and she wanted him now!
“Ichigo! Please,” she moaned, grinding her pelvis against him, feeling the rather
large cock dig into her side.
A rakish grin spread across Ichigo's lips. “Tell me what you need, Char.”
Oh, it sounded easy enough. Just open her mouth and declare what she wanted
from him, but she couldn’t think, let alone talk when his hands cupped her breasts and
rolled her taut, stiffened nipples between his index fingers and thumbs. Through her
sweater and thin lacy bra, the heat of his hunger burned through them. The scratchy
lace of her bra chafed her nipples, making them pebbled into points so steely, she feared
he’d cut his hands if he didn’t release her lust. He plucked the tips as if they were
dainty little bows.
“Ichigo!” she cried, his name snatched out of her throat by the rising lust inside
her. “Please!”
He chuckled, as if her distress, her heat was humorous! Damn him.
She pushed him back, and snatched her sweater over her head in jerky
movements that showed how shaken he made her. Once off, the cool kitchen air swept
across her searing flesh and she shuddered. Ichigo watched her, drinking her in. The
whisper-thin fuchsia lace bra held her breasts up to him.
“Those are the most beautiful, wow,” he whispered, so low she didn’t know if he
was talking to himself or to her. Heat spread across her cheeks, and she sighed, a ball of anxiety lessening,
burning to a crisp before the strong flames of his passion.
Without any more talk, he reached out and gently cupped her breast, using his
nimble fingers to slide the lace over her beaded nipple. He pinched it, drawing out a
whimper from her lips and a pulsating jolt to her clit. He lowered his lips to the
marbled tip, flicking it harshly with his tongue. Her back arched forward, shoving the
cinnamon tip into his greedy mouth.
Exquisite pleasure at the hands of his wickedly agile tongue caused her to cry
out. She didn’t even understand what she said, if anything, intelligent at all. Her hands
ran up his arms, his thickly roped muscles stretched and flexed beneath her fingertips
as if starving for her touch. With his mouth torturing her right nipple, his other hand
slowly manipulated the left, sending dual jolts of lightening straight to her already
hardened button. Already her wanting dew glazed her thighs, and still she gushed
more, so wet. God, she was more than ready to take him inside her. Based on the long,
slightly curved weapon pressed against her pelvis, she would need every drop of
lubrication to take him.
And damn if she didn’t want to take every long, delectable inch.
Her stomach muscles tightened in agreement. Already hard and alive against
her, his phallus bobbed as if trying to spur him on. She wanted that long, thick, steel
buried inside her. Hell, she was more than ready for him to fill every inch of her wet,
aching core.
And she told him so. “Damn, take me, Ichigo!” she purred against his hair. Her hand clenched in his
hair.
He didn’t even hesitate. He stood up; untangling himself from her hands he
snatched off his shirt, buttons popping in his haste. With swift hands he undid his belt
and shoved his pants to his feet, his boxers with them. He kicked off his shoes. Graceful
and smooth like a panther, Ichigo disrobed in seconds. Charlotte’s eyes widened and
she had to remind herself to close her gaping mouth.
His cock jutted out into the soft kitchen light. His ivory shaft curved upward
toward his bellybutton almost guaranteeing he’d reach her G-Spot.
A model of chiseled perfection, Ichigo smirked at her expression.
“Glad you approve,” he said, voice stripped down to a feral rumble.
“Oh, hell yeah.”
His muscular thighs and tight torso spoke of strength. Her mind drifted to a
vision of her straddling those powerful thighs as he pounded into her.
Her pussy clenched at the thought.
“Take these off.”
He snatched her pants at the waist, jerking her to him, and undid her button and
zipper. She lifted up her ass as he roughly shoved them over her cheeks. Tugging with
those wide wonderful hands, he dropped her jeans in a pile beside his.
Left only in her matching fuchsia lace thong, Charlotte molded her breasts and
teased them with light plucks.
“Make me come, Ichigo.” “I smell your need, baby,” he whispered, squatting down in front of the bar
stool. He leaned forward and kissed her mound through her panties’ sheer lace. She
thrust forward as his teeth raked over her swollen pussy lips.

“Oh!” her back arched sharply from the bar stool.
He guided her up to the barstool, and roughly shoved the flimsy material aside.
One bent leg used the stool’s cushion surface while her other one lay pinned beneath
Ichigo’s wide hand. A sigh pushed out of her as his fingers slid down her lips, parting
them in moments before slipping in two delicious digits.
“Oh God!” It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.
Her hips bucked anyway, trying to get more. He flicked her button making her
muscles tighten and body squirm impatiently. He used one hand to clasp her down and
steady her. His other hand buried itself in her ebony heat. Again and again his fingers
found her spot and pressed it repeatedly. His marvelous mouth suckled her clit,
occasionally grazing it with his teeth.
“Please!”
She didn’t care if she sounded like a horny teenager. This was far better than her
dream, but damn if she didn’t want Ichigo’s delicious cock buried to the balls inside
her. Oh, yes, she did.
“You taste so good. I wanna eat your juicy pussy all night.”
The slick press of his tongue made her whimper with want.

Whack!

She was going to die. He slapped her cit and then shoved his fingers back into
her warmth.
“Oh hell!” she shrieked, her leg an iron vice around half of Ichigo’s torso. His
mouth clamped over her throbbing button and his fingers’ pace increased.
“Like that?”
“Yes! Yes!”
Surely, he could tell how greedily her inner muscles milked his fingers, hungry
for more. Hell yes, she loved it, and the approaching orgasm rose high in her belly,
knotting up tighter and tighter.
“Then come for me.”
As soon as he said it, the rasp of his groans, lifted her higher and higher. Using
his tongue to sweep throughout the recesses of her wet garden, Ichigo’s pace became a
frenzy. Slurping, sucking, nipping without pause, so much so, she thought she’d die.
He devoured her creaming pussy.
“Oh my God!”
“That’s it,” he said, “Come for me.”
He went right back to business. She savored his plunging, sliding tongue,
thrusting against his face for deeper penetration. Her orgasm hovered on the edge.
Intoxicating, his actions sped her higher and higher, and soon, she spilled over the walls
of her control.
“Damn!” she managed as her throat closed over the smashing fist of her orgasm.
Her pelvis and hips had a mind of their own, bucking and grinding against his face until she couldn’t maintain any semblance of composure. She
melted into a puddle of
shuddering pleasure beneath his hands. “Oh, fuck!”
Ichigo had folded her into his arms, sweeping her from the bar stool and laying
her on the floor beneath his grandmother’s blanket. With her desire’s dew on his
tongue, he kissed her. Their mouths fused for several hot moments, and he pushed
through her full lips to plunder her mouth. He groaned his pleasure as the kiss
lengthened. Her aching nipples rubbed against his hard chest.
With her quim still quivering from her orgasm, Ichigo pressed the huge swollen
knob of his shaft to her entrance. The feel of his delicious body meeting hers caused her
to shudder violently against him.
“You want me?” he asked, eyes burning through to her heart. “Tell me.”
“I want you! Now!” she croaked, her nails trailing down his muscular back. Her
breathing, labored and harsh, slowed, but Ichigo’s breath, a teasing warmth against her
nipples, set her fire ablaze once more.
“Aw, yes!” he voice smoky with lust, throwing his head back in pleasure.
“Damn, Char, see what you do to me?”
He inched in a little more, slowly, stuffing her. Stars burst behind her closed eyes
and with every stroke they multiplied. He pumped her with languid, corkscrew thrusts,
and he ruthlessly refused to listen to her pleas. The walls of her pussy clenched his
massive manhood greedily. He rammed into her seeping hole without stopping, using
his great upper body strength to support his torso as his hips plunged into her core
again and again. His thrusts became urgent, so rapid his balls smacked against her ass. He bent down and placed scores of kisses down her
collarbone and up the
sensitive side of her neck. A prickling heat rushed over her then, her inner walls
clenching against him, squeezing his cock for more, and the dizzying glimpse of a
release teasingly hovered along the edge of her grasp.
“Ichigo, please…” her perspiration beading along her forehead and slipping
down her face. Above her, her angel seemed to float, his hair, damp from his efforts,
brushed her face against her spiked nipples like a series of feathers.

“Look at me, Char,” he ordered, his eyes dark liquid heat.
She met his stare and held it.
“Come.”
And with that he pounded into her with abandon until her orgasm unfurled,
strumming through like a locomotive and smashing all sense of time, place, and
purpose beyond

him

.

“Yeah! Like that!” he bit out and shoved a few times more before his muscles
stiffened and his own release tore through him. He slid out of her, allowing his hot seed
to squirt over her taunt belly, his fist pumping out his desire as if it burned him.
“Char!”
Spent, he lay beside her on the cool tile floor, the aroma of sex and sweat
mingled. He got up and went to the sink. She heard water running, and then he reclined
beside her once more. The warmth of a cloth made her jump, and she laughed.
“Too cold?” he asked, his body glistened against the kitchen’s lights.
“No, no, that’s just right,” she whimpered, too exhausted to say more.
Chapter Eight
From his recliner, Ichigo watched Charlotte sleep on the sofa, his grandmother’s
blanket covering her now clothed body. He’d insisted she sleep in his bed, but she
argued that Kanon shouldn’t discover her nanny in bed with her father. His wanton
desire flamed alive every time he looked at her. He could still taste her on his tongue,
and despite showering and brushing his teeth, he still smelled her on his skin.
His alarm had gone off at seven, and any minute now Kanon would be bouncing
down the stairs, searching for him. They’d have waffles and the like, maybe even go to
the park today, or over to the Greensboro Children’s Museum. Fridays he spent extra
time with Kanon. He got up early with her every morning, surviving on a little less than
six hours of sleep a night. He wanted to spend time with her, and her sleep schedule
didn’t exactly match his. It didn’t matter. She did.
He smiled at the beauty on his sofa. Snores drifted up from her and he couldn’t
stop the flurry of emotions inside him. Not since Sybil left him had he wanted to be
something more than just a father. As a paramedic, he saw scores of people everyday
who failed to live each day to the fullest. It never occurred to him that until he met
Charlotte, he’d been doing the same thing. Oh, he knew inside, deep inside that parts of
him had been broken and left to mend awkwardly on their own. No one had set those
breaks properly, and he’d suffered. Healing over the broken, misshapen pieces of his
heart again and again, until he’d given up on living. The anguish of having his heart
broken and reformed stole his willpower. Now, she’d come.
Charlotte.
Would she be queen of his heart? Hell, she already ruled his emotions, as she’d
proven in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning. Not that he’d ever thought he’d
make love to a woman on the kitchen floor, well, at least not the first time, but he
couldn’t withstand her heat. He’d envision taking her amongst the clean, navy sheets of
his bed, or sprawled together in his Jacuzzi tub, but on the floor? Never. But he had.
And now, he worried, gnawing on his bottom lip in anticipation. Would she wake up
and bolt? Would she pretend it didn’t happen? Would she act like she wanted to move
in?
He pushed off the recliner and began to pace. What would he do if any, or hell,
all of those situations happened?
He had no idea.
“Daddy?” questioned the tiny voice of his daughter. It echoed through to the
den. The spike of fear trembled through that one single word.
He left the room and headed to the stairs where Kanon, still rubbing her eyes
and wearing her purple hearts pjs stood at the top. Her favorite doll clutched in a one
arm choke hold.
“Here,” he called back.
Once she saw his face, it relaxed into pure relief and happiness. He headed up
the stairs to her and once he reached the top, scooped her up into a tight bear hug. Her
pigtails had unraveled in her sleep and the ribbons had disappeared, probably into the folds of her comforter. She had an unnatural fear of being
abandoned, courtesy of her
mother, which was part of the reason why Kanon didn’t trust nannies or anyone right
off the bat. The fact that she’d warmed to Charlotte spoke to the woman’s gentle nature.
“Daddy!” she squealed, hugging tight with her little hands. “I had the bestest
dream…”
“Oh yeah? Tell me.”
And she proceeded to tell him about being a princess, dragons, and of princes,
kings, queens, and lands far, far away. She stood on the stool and he got her toothbrush
ready. Using the kiddie mirror on the counter, she brushed her teeth.
“Don’t skim on the back teeth.”
“Or those in the front,” came the sleepy voice of his queen.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Charlotte leaning against the doorway.

“Hi, Charlotte!” Kanon cried with a mouth filled with toothpaste.
“Rinse,” Ichigo said, smiling. Turning to Charlotte, he said, “Morning.”
He wanted to make it sound neutral, but it blew out with so much heat, he
thought she’d slap him for being lewd. He sounded like he’d just had mind-blowing sex
with her last night, well, this morning. It didn’t matter what he wanted, because she
had that thing, that magic that made him act stupid in front of her.
A wry smile tugged the sides of her mouth, and she said, “Morning.”
“Daddy, all clean!” Kanon popped out and burst through the doorway, pushing
past Charlotte. “Pancakes!” “Yeah, it’s time for pancakes,” he said, grinning after his daughter. “You want to
stay for some?”
“No, uh, I better be getting on home,” she said, avoiding his eyes. She smoothed
her hands down her sweater and jeans. “I, uh, have to be back in a few hours. I’ve got
errands to run, and stuff.”
An uneasy feeling made his stomach hurt.
“I see.”
“So, uh, catch you later,” she stammered, and slipped out of the doorway.
He wanted to yank her back and kiss her hard on the mouth, but that probably
wasn’t the wisest thing to do. She hurried down the stairs and disappeared into the
other parts of the house. Following her lead, he too hurried down the stairs and into the
foyer where he found her, digging in her copious purse for her car keys.
“Char, listen, about last night,” he began, reaching for her. He couldn’t help it.
“Don’t.” She held up her hand to silence him. “It happened. It’s over.”
“You don’t believe that?” disbelief evident in his tone. “It doesn’t have to be that
way.”
“It does,” she said, eyes turning hard, albeit shiny with tears. “I work for you.”
“You do, but come on,” he said, reaching for her again. She shuffled out of his
grasp. The blare of the sing-along of current pop tunes drifted down the hall. Kanon’s
sweet voice slipped through the music. “We had something last night.”
“We did. Sex. We had sex. That’s it. Period.”
“It was more than that. Don’t lie to yourself.” “Don’t flatter

yourself

,” she snapped back. “I, I’ve got to get out of here.”

“Char, don’t do this to us,” he said, his gut churning. “Let’s sit down, feed Kanon
and talk about this like adults.”
“Oh, so I’m not behaving like an adult. You’re my boss, Ichigo…”
The doorbell sang, interrupting them.
“Who the hell is this at eight in the morning?” he barked, angry with her, angry
that she’d let something come between them. “Who is it?” he demanded to the door.
“Officer Perez for Mr. Ichigo Isamu.”
An officer? What now?
He snatched open the door and glared. “Yes?”
“Mr. Isamu?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve been served,” the officer said, gave him a frosty smile and strolled back
down the flat slate sidewalk.
Ichigo looked at the thick, brown envelope and hastily shut the door. Served? By
whom, and for what? He hadn’t done anything, but his heart thundered in his chest.
Only one person would send him papers and the sense of déjà vu swept over him.
Sybil.
He shoved the envelope under his arm and put his attention back on Char.
She eyed the thick envelope as if it were a mean ass snake.
“Like I was saying,” he said, clearing his throat, “I want to talk about it. I like
you.” “You liked what we did, but what male with a penis doesn’t?” she snapped, still
simmering. “Even gay men like sex. We don’t have anything, and while I admit I
crossed the line, I’m retreating back to my side. Get it?”
“I got it, but you obviously don’t,” he said, leaning into her personal space. “I’m
not going to let you run from this. Or me. Or us.”
“Are you threatening me? Like, do I need to get a lawyer? Or maybe I should just
quit,” her mauve-tinted lips hitched up in a cold smile that faded before it ever reached
her eyes. She didn’t believe any of the tough talk she pushed outward at him. Maybe
she just needed time.
“I promise you,” he uttered, his own temper flaring, “You’re making a mistake.”
“Am I?” she asked, jutting her chin toward the package under his arm.
“Obviously, you’ve pissed off someone. I’m just getting in line.”
What should he say to that? Nothing. So he ignored it. “Fine, Char. You’re angry
at me, but you’re really angry at yourself. About what? I dunno, but when you’re ready,
baby, I’ll be here.”
“I’m not your baby,” she spat.
“Yet.”
Before she could slap him with a sharp retort, Kanon ran full out down the
hallway, and tugged at the hand not holding the envelope.

“Come see this! You gotta see!” she demanded, her heart-shaped face scrunched
up in sheer determination. He laughed, the anger rolling out of him. He glanced at Charlotte and said, “See
you at five.”
With that, he turned and allowed Kanon to guide him down to the living room
where the latest episode of

Dora, The Explorer

had taken the place of the pop music sing

along. She rattled on about Boots, and the stars, and the lost soccer ball. He nodded and
kissed her, asking questions about the program and engaging her before he went to
cook breakfast.
The kitchen made him stop. The overhead lights flooded the u-shaped space, but
Charlotte’s scent and the memory of her pressed against him dominated the room. He
passed the stove and the pot still full of water from the eggs he cooked this morning.
His abandoned coffee sat at room temperature and sullen, like his feelings right now.
He hadn’t cleaned up once they finished making love. He couls barely function, getting
her to the sofa and then himself up to the bed, let alone put anything away. It had been
many nights since he’d made love to anyone, and Charlotte tore through him like a
hurricane.
He slapped the envelope on the kitchen island and set about feeding his
daughter. He’d lost his appetite the minute Charlotte told him she had to go. He didn’t
know her well, but he couldn’t deny what they shared and how damn strong it was. He
didn’t believe in love at first sight. Still, he too refused to believe what they both felt—
and he knew she’d felt it too. She could avoid it, step around it, but it was there, coiled
beneath the soft flush across her cheeks, the way her nipples beaded beneath her sweater this morning. Oh yeah, Charlotte felt that tug between
them, just like he did.
Nanny or not, he meant to have her and he would.
He poured the pancake mix into the bowl and added water, whisking the two
together. Daydreams engulfed him, and he remembered the swell of her hip, the sweet
smell of her pussy as he licked and nibbled her clit.
Charlotte could deny it verbally all she wanted, but inside her heart understood
its mate, almost at once. It sounded so damn corny. And he’d never believed in any of
that horoscope shit, but now, now he had to have her and he believed, damn the gods
he believed.
Moving to the stove, he set the bowl and whisk down. He took the skillet and
sprayed it with oil, fired up the gas and watched the white-blue flames lick the skillet’s
bottom. He’d do that to Charlotte, lick her luscious ass. It wasn’t flat like the bottom of
this pan, but he’d be just as fevered and greedy when kissing and tonguing her ass, and
he meant to. He meant to do so much to her and for her, because, well, he was

meant

to

be with her.
He only had to convince her of it.
That would be as easy as pancakes.
Chapter Nine
Charlotte sat perched on the edge of her condo’s patio chair. She stared up at the
stars, searching for answers that she knew resided closer to home. For as long as she
could remember, she’d longed for something more from life, something more than the
day-to-day grind of work and the occasionally, and sometimes superficial, outings with
her girlfriends. When she lost her job, everything went sideways, including three
quarters of her friends.
She stared up at the twinkle of stars, far away from earth, billions of miles, but
their light, for some of them their last light, only reached the planet now. She hugged
her knees to her chest. That had been her, a star, dying after years of trying to shine
amongst a sea of cold darkness. Her light only just reaching the full bodied man, Ichigo,
and he wanted to hang on to it. He’d said as much earlier today.
“Damn him!” she spat, wrapping her fingers around her zinfandel.
He’d been so right. Every slightly accented word had been spot on and she hated
it.
He acted so tough, like a hard piece of butterscotch, but inside, a surprise of
warmth and a gooey sweetness she found difficult to resist. The time inched toward
nine o’clock. She’d called Ichigo earlier and told him she’d be late, and he said fine. He
didn’t sound upset or even surprised that she’d begged off coming to work. She fully expected him to fire her, but he didn’t, telling her he
understood she needed time to
collect her thoughts.
She sipped the wine and shuddered at the bittersweet liquid. Damn it, she
missed him.
Her grip on the wineglass tightened, but she refused to set it down. No way
would she go back to him in this condition. Her puffy eyes burned, but she couldn’t
wipe them anymore. She’d cried herself to sleep when she got home. She almost went
for the remaining Vicodin, but stopped herself when she caught her harried and tear
stained face in the mirror. She was better than that.
So she slept with her boss. People did it all the time. And it wasn’t like he was an
ogre or anything. She took a deep, steadying breath and then released it. She didn’t

know why she behaved like a fusspot today.
Yeah she did. Lying to herself didn’t get her anywhere. Truth be told, she didn’t
want to see his rejection in his almond shaped eyes. An Indian summer heat bowled
over her as she thought about him—
that soft smile, but stubborn chin, thick corded muscles and broad shoulders, and that
tapered waist that allowed her to lock her legs around it.
Damn he was fine. This morning had been a true battle not to snatch him and
screw the hell out of him. With his hair loose, he looked like a dream. It brushed his
shoulders, caressing them, like she wanted her hands to do. He conjured up erotic tales
and a helluva lot of fantasies, and then once she had a taste, she only craved

more

.

Kanon kept her sane and sober. Kanon. She groaned and sipped some more wine.
Did she really want to get involved with a man who had a child?
She didn’t get to ponder it. Her cell phone rang, vibrating against the glass patio
table.
Scooping it up, she glanced at the number, the ringtone was the one she used for
unknown callers.
Could it be her insurance company? But at this time of night.
“Hello?”
“Is this Charlotte Neal?” the polished voice on the other end asked.
Damn telemarketers.
“I’m not interested.”
“Oh, but you may be. Do you know a Mr. Isamu?” she asked. Yeah, it was a
female for sure to be this darn pushy.
“No,” Charlotte said before her brain could process what she lied about.
“No? It says here that he’s your current employer,” the female words slithered
through the phone. “Has that changed?”
“Yeah, as of today,” Charlotte said, her grip so tight, the water condensation on
the glass seeped between her fingers. Again her mouth shot off answers without
clearance from her mind. “Who the hell is this?”
“I am the assistant to the district attorney Martin Bell,” the woman said.
“Tell me what this is in reference to.” “I am not at liberty to discuss an on-going case, Miss Neal; however, do not be
surprised if you are subpoenaed in the next six months. Is your current address…”
“Subpoenaed? For what?” Charlotte barked, sitting upright in her chair, her feet
flat on the ground. The car accident, the hit and run? They’d never found the driver of
the Mercedes, but why ask her about Ichigo? He was at the scene, but he didn’t witness
it. “I think you owe me some answers. You call my home this late at night and question
me? Do I need to file a complaint?”
“Complaint?”
“Hell yeah. There is a Freedom of Information Act, bitch, so start singing,”
Charlotte snapped, her anger bowled over any ideas of self preservation. This woman
threatened Ichigo and appeared to be trying to get her hooked up in some mess.
“Feisty aren’t you,” the woman remarked. “It seems Mr. Isamu is being sued for
discrimination.”
“What?”
“You may be subpoenaed to testify.”
She shook her head, trying to shake out the dumb shit she’d just heard. Was this
woman serious? No, this was some practical joke. But no one knew about her job with
Ichigo.
“Any other questions will have to wait until your subpoena arrives,” the woman
clucked cheerfully and hung up.
Charlotte stared at her cell phone like it had grown legs.
“Ichigo!” She got up from her seat and ran into her house. The thick, brown envelope from
this morning came tumbling back through her mind. He had no idea what he’d been
given. Discrimination. How could that be possible? Did he just sleep with her to prove
that he wasn’t a racist?
She snatched on her jeans, her mind burning with rage. How dare he use her to
cover his ass! No damn wonder he wanted her to start so soon. No damn wonder he’d
worked so hard to seduce her.
Oh, hell no. If he thought he could do this to her, and she would just melt like
butter on a hot skillet, he’d best think a-damn-gin.
Chapter Ten
The doorbell sounded behind the door in the same rage-filled volume that boiled
inside Charlotte. Or maybe she projected that, but it didn’t matter. The drive to Ichigo’s
house didn’t quell the furious hurt and angry knot lodged in her belly. How dare he use
her to keep from getting the pants sued off him! She brought her fist to the round
button again, but the door suddenly jerked open, spooking her already distressed
nerves.
“Char?” he asked from the doorway, pushing the screen door open to allow her
entry. His chocolate eyes beamed and relief washed over him. “What are you doing

here? I thought you were taking the night off.”
His conversational tone matched his body language, but it served to only piss
her off more.
“You ass!” she choked out, throat burning closed around the words. “How dare
you!”
His face fell, and worry pinched his brow. He held his hand out to her. “What? I
don’t…”
“Oh hell yes you do, don’t start lying. You’ve done that enough.”
He searched her face, puzzled and questioning. She glared back at him, arms
folded. What? Did he think she was going to believe his innocent act? She’d been fooled
by better bluffers and cheaters and liars in her past. He’d best up his game. The pinch of his brow eased and his fall became blank, like he’d put on
a mask
over his real face.
“Come inside,” he said, trying to capture her arm again.
“Don’t touch me.”
His hand dropped. Stepping back from the door, he waited, the tic in his jaw
working nonstop.
As soon as she crossed into the foyer, she wanted to leave. Too much. It was too
much—the memories of his body pressed against hers, the vanilla musk on his skin, the
feel of his lips across the nape of her neck—oh God.
“Where’s Kanon?” she asked, battling to think of something else.
“Asleep,” he answered matter-of-fact. “Let’s move to the living room.”
She raised an eyebrow. Did he think her naïve too?
He sighed. “If you’re going to rant at me, I don’t want to wake her in the
process.”
So he knew! Bastard.
She followed him down the hallway. Tension grew thick, so much so she kept
clearing her throat. Her fury simmered beneath her wish to honor the little girl, but
once she placed a sneaker into the living room, she put her hands on her hips and her
fury burned its way to the forefront.
“You ass! You think you can just use me?”
“What?” he spun around to face her fully. “Use you?” “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know,” she grounded out between clenched teeth.
The muscles in her face ached from trying to contain her hurt and anger.
He spread his hands wide as if to say he didn’t get it. Confusion spilled over his
features, turning them in on each other. He shook his head and stepped closer to her.
“You’re being sued. So, you think you can just fuck some black chic and it’ll
prove you aren’t a racist.”
That did it. Her resolve broke, but only one tear managed to escape. The others
she swallowed.
Ichigo’s face burned scarlet. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip bit into
her biceps. He scowled. “What nonsense is this?”
“Let go of me!” she barked.
“You believe that? You think I’m a racist?” he asked, eyes softening into hurt.
No, he doesn’t get to have his feelings hurt. Not after what he’d done to her.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” she spat and kicked out. He blocked her efforts
to knee him in the nuts with his thigh. Backing her up, Ichigo pressed her against the
wall. To do so, he let go of her hands, and she slapped him across the face, temporarily
halting his efforts.
“Bastard!”
She hated the hurt and watery tears in her voice. She had to get out of here.
Squirming against him, she fought, hands punching and slapping against the stone
hard body in front of her.
“Get the hell off me!” she yelled. She bucked against his solid frame, her hands a whirl, and then she squealed as
Ichigo’s wide hands succeeded in snaring both her wrists into one of his hands. He
secured them above her head. His powerful thighs pinned her to the wall, spread eagle.
She could move, but not in the ways she wanted and she couldn’t get out of his hold.
All she could do was glare at him.
“You think I’m a racist?” he seethed against her face. “Are you nuts?”
“You used me,” she repeated, but without the heat of her earlier outburst. How
could he do this? She liked him so much, enjoyed him even more, and yeah she didn’t
know if she wanted to see him again, but deep inside she already had fallen for him. If
she didn’t care about him at all, this wouldn’t hurt so damn much.
The hard glint in his eyes softened.
“I made love to you, Char, because I’m in love with you.”
“Whatever.”
“God! I’m not a racist! Hell, Kanon is half black! To hate anyone of color would
make me a poor ass father, wouldn’t you think? I didn’t get expelled from my family,
disowned, and mocked because I hate people of color!”
Charlotte stopped fighting. “Kanon’s half black?”

“Yeah. Where’d you think she got that hair,” he said, releasing her and stepping
back. He went over to one of the bookshelves and removed an album. He opened it to
the first page and thrust it into Charlotte’s hands. “Here.”
He plopped down into one of the two stiff, ebony wingback chairs. She stared down at the black, crushed velvet photo album. An emblazed date in
silver and a quote told her this album had only one purpose—memories of a wedding.
“That’s Sybil.”
She didn’t want to see his ex-wife, but curiosity pounced. She had to see the
competition, the other woman that had managed to snare Ichigo’s heart and cause him
to lose his family and his heritage. Who would make him do all those things? With her
stomach in a flutter, Char looked down at the page. The lithe woman beamed in her
blinding white wedding grown. Light caramel skin—a red bone, Sybil had been
decorated in skillful makeup and ornate jewelry. The woman was breathtakingly
beautiful. Charlotte could make out Kanon’s lips and chin in the woman’s face. Of
course, Kanon’s hair came from her mother too. He didn’t lie. Sybil was surely Kanon’s
mother.
“She’s uh, beautiful.”
Ichigo shrugged. “Only on the outside.”
Charlotte handed the album back to him. He threw it with disgust onto the coffee
table. Papers fluttered up in its wake. She looked at the coffee table, only just seeing it.
A flurry of papers were scattered across its oval surface.
“Even if the suit was about discrimination, I wouldn’t use you like that,” he said
from the chair.
“It’s not about discrimination?”
He smiled over to her, but it seemed cold.
“It’s about

reverse

discrimination.” Charlotte frowned. What? She could still see the crimson mark on his cheek from

where she’d slapped him. Swallowing her embarrassment, she shoved her hands into
her pockets.
“My former nanny, Ms. Avery, filed the suit. She believes I fired her because
she’s white. Hiring you actually adds some validity to that claim.”
Charlotte gaped at him. “Huh?”
He got up and came to her as if she’d beckoned him. Sick with shame, her cheeks
were aflame. Thankful for her cocoa-toned skin, she couldn’t meet his eyes. She closed
her eyes and released a slow breath. She didn’t even ask for him an explanation about
the suit. Foolish—she’d been rash, rage-filled, and wrong.
A kiss made her eyes flap open and she found herself lost in the liquid pools of
his eyes. She looked away. Damn her stupidity.
He lifted her chin up. She struggled to hold his gaze, but instead of anger she
found arousal. The scarlet handprint on his face mocked her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Kiss me and make it better.”
She did, barely giving him more than a friendly peck on the mouth.
“Hmmmm. It still hurts,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her
close.
“Where?” she asked, thinking he meant his injured cheek. How could he just
accept what she’d done? “Here,” he said, tapping his lips. “And here.” He tapped his chest, where his
heart resided.
“How can you just forgive me?” she said, voice wavering. God she was going to
cry.
“Why? I love you,” he explained softly. “Loving you means taking that feisty
personality of yours. It’s the thing I love best about you. You’re passionate and open.
So, let me in.”
“Ichigo…” She shook her head, smiling despite herself. He loved her?
“Kiss me, damn it, Char!”
She rose on her toes to meet his warm mouth.
Hungry probes of his tongue scoured the recesses of her mouth, stirring her to
passion. She broke the kiss before it deepened into something more. She wanted him,
but her emotions clashed inside her. Then she met his stare, and lowered her heart to
his chest. There, beating out its declaration, his heart’s

thump, thump

fell into cadence

with her own. Together. In sync. One.
“Hmm, that’s better,” he said, kissing her forehead. His dark slumberous eyes
seemed to glow. His hands continued rubbing over her back. “Come to bed, baby. You
can make it up to me there.”
“I’m still going to end up on the sofa,” she replied, smiling as he laced his fingers
with hers.
“Not tonight.”
Epilogue

Seven Months later

The seven people seated around the rectangular glossy board table didn’t seem
nearly as happy or giddy as Charlotte did inside. All right, maybe happy wasn’t the

best way to describe it, but she did feel a strong sense of relief mixed with anxiousness
as Ichigo took her hand and sat down beside her at the table. Dressed in an ebony suit
and sapphire blue tie, he looked like a model, and every other male in the room paled
by comparison. His ink-jet hair had been pulled back and cinched at his neck with an
equally dark tie. The pale blue shirt and sapphire tie made him look scrumptious, and
she wanted to hurry and get him home. Maybe they’d get in a quickie in the elevator.
Seated directly across from her, a frumpy, red-faced woman glared. Charlotte
shot her a smile, full of teeth and no warmth. She’d seen the woman before, at the court
hearing, and knew Ms. Avery disliked her. Hell, the woman probably didn’t like
anyone and should be legally barred from being around children.
“Let’s get underway, shall we,” Aaron Yang, Ichigo’s lawyer said, opening one
of the folders in front of him. He cleared his throat at the other two attorneys for Ms.
Avery. “You called this meeting, and my client has a daughter and a job to get to…”
“And a whore,” Ms. Avery spat out. “A whore who took my job!”
Charlotte’s whole body went still. She caught herself as her mouth opened to say
something but the squeeze of Ichigo’s hand made her smile instead. Crossing her legs,
she smirked at the woman. “Don’t call her that again,” Ichigo said coldly. “You will refer to her as Miss
Neal.”
“As I told your lawyers, Ms. Avery, Mr. Isamu did not employee Ms. Neal,”
Aaron explained coolly, adjusting his suit’s jacket and forcing everyone’s attention to
him. “Mr. Isamu did not pay her for service, did not file a 1099, or in any way give her a
job.”
Charlotte didn’t fight the grin now wide and bright on her face. The first night on
the job, when she and Ichigo made love had thrown them both for a loop, and after
talking about it they both decided that Charlotte working for him, and being his lover,
didn’t gel. So, she opted for being his lover instead of his nanny. He didn’t even pay her
a wage, but instead took her shopping for clothes for her job interviews. She found an
elementary school with an emergency opening and she took it.
“We have Miss Neal’s sworn testimony that Mr. Isamu fully intended to hire her
as his nanny,” said Mr. Beer Belly, one of Avery’s lawyers. His gravelly voice rolled
over Aaron’s polished one. “The intent is proof of discrimination.”
“The intent is debatable,” Aaron said. “Intent doesn’t prove anything, which is
why you are here. I have at minimum four former employers who have signed
testimonies of your client’s incompetence, negligence, and overbearing disregard for
children. You are lucky they didn’t press charges or sue. You have no case.”
“We knew nothing of this,” Mr. Beer Belly bellowed. “Let me see them!”
Aaron swept his hand over his pants’ leg, removing invisible lint. “They are
court documents, filed with the case.” Ms. Avery gaped at Ichigo and then her beady eyes zipped to Aaron. “You’re
lying! You damn chinks are always lying! Stealing!”
Aaron’s eyebrows rose and a soft flush came to his cheek. “Chinks?”
“Shush, Ms. Avery, let us handle this,” Mr. Beer Belly said, shooting an anxious
look at Aaron and then Ichigo. “She’s frustrated, Mr. Yang.”
“Frustrated?” Aaron said, and leaned back in his chair.
“Get your hands off me!” she barked. “You stupid, ignorant chinks!”
“I told you once, Ms. Avery,” Ichigo said again, voice like an ice dagger. “I’m
Japanese.”
“Clearly, your client is the one with racist tendencies,” Aaron said calmly, but
even Charlotte could see the flush of heat on his face. He was pissed just like Ichigo at
the slurs. Besides, Aaron was Korean.
“Phil, you and James don’t have a case of anything here. Just drop the suit. I will
testify myself to your client’s outbursts in my office. The former employers had similar
comments about her racial slurs and outbursts.”
Mr. Beer Belly fidgeted.
“You knew?” Ichigo asked Mr. Beer Belly. “You knew the whole time she was a
ranting racist.”
“She’s our client, Mr. Isamu,” the one named Phil said.
“Shut your damn mouth,” Ms. Avery blurted out to Ichigo.
Charlotte shook off his hand and leaned forward in her seat, her finger pointed
in the other woman’s face. “Don’t make me get out of this chair.” “Do it, you black bitch! Y’all are always fucking your way to the top…”
“Enough!” roared Phil, patting his sweaty brow with a handkerchief. He glared
at Ms. Avery, a look of exasperation on his chubby face.
Charlotte leapt, her hands outstretched and ready to beat this woman’s ass, but
Ichigo’s hands snagged her gently and slowly coaxed her back into the seat.
“What? What’s he sayin?” Ms. Avery asked him, now pawing at his arm. He
jerked it from her and turned to Aaron.
“All right,” Phil said to Aaron, lumbering to get out of the chair, wheezing a bit
in the process. His silent partner, James, just shook his head. “Let’s go Ms. Avery.”
“Oh, one more thing, Phil,” Aaron said, shooting several paper-clipped pages to
the older, wider man. “This is a restraining order. If she comes near Mr. Isamu, Miss

Neal, or his daughter, she’ll be arrested.”
“I don’t wanna be near you…”
“Get her out of here,” Ichigo said, rising out of his seat.
James mumbled “sorry” and shoved the still blathering woman through the
room’s glass door. Phil skimmed the pages and then said to Aaron, “Fine. You’ll get no
argument from me.”
They disappeared through the door, and Ichigo pulled Charlotte to her feet. He
kissed her square on the mouth and hugged her. Over. It was finally over.
He released her and turned to Aaron.
“I owe you.” “Nah, you don’t,” Aaron said, closing the folder and standing up. “This is me
paying you back for beating the hell out of Mark Roundtree in fourth grade.”
Ichigo laughed and gave Aaron a fist pump. “All right. But dinner on me, okay?”
“Sure, sure, but what I want is an invitation,” Aaron said, nodding at Charlotte.
“For what?” Ichigo asked.
Charlotte laid her head against his chest and again smiled at how his heart’s beat
fell into rhythm with hers.
“You know,” Aaron smirked. “Just make sure the damn thing’s inside this time.”
He laughed and vanished through the doors.
“I have no idea what he means,” Ichigo said, a hint of humor threading through
his words. “Do you, Char?”
“Course not,” she said, lifting her head and kissing him. When she broke the
kiss, she whispered, “But you do look damn good in black.”
The End