Page 25 of Redeem Me

Thankfully, Orla and Owen race back into the room before either of us says something we’ll regret.

I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t resign with immediate effect.

And if she doesn’t, what does that say?

‘Daddy, we lost it.’ Orla slips her hand into mine and squeezes to get my attention. ‘Will you buy me a rabbit? It might live longer than a fish. Or even better, what about a dog?’

‘I’ll think about it.’ Every parent’s universal answer for ‘no’, without causing a scene.

Liz strides in with a tray full of delicious-smelling food. ‘Steaks are medium rare, served with potato gratin. I’ll bring the veg now.’

‘Is my dinner ready?’ Owen sniffs the air and thankfully all talk of a pet rabbit or dog, forgotten, for now.

But it will be a very long time before I forget my confession to Ivy, specifically, the look in her eyes when I admitted how badly I want her. The way they flared with a hope that had no right to be there.

We finish the steaks and the wine, and when the kids go in search of the damned rabbit again, it feels like a great idea to open another bottle of red.

‘Is this okay?’ Ivy’s eyes drift from my face to my chest as I refill her glass. ‘I mean drinking with someone who’s too young, your best friend’s sister, the nanny, and someone you live with in the house where your children sleep?’

‘Are you always so insolent?’ My gaze lingers on her full, luscious lips.

‘Are you always so uptight?’ Amusement laces her tone.

‘Believe me, it’s better this way.’ I blow out a breath.

‘Better for who?’ She arches forwards to pick up her wine glass again and I get another glimpse of her spectacular cleavage.

‘Don’t push me, Ivy.’ I drink in her smooth, flawless skin. ‘It won’t end well for either of us.’

The kids reappear, knees covered in grass stains.

‘Let’s get you guys bathed and ready for bed.’ I take two large mouthfuls of wine and stand.

‘Can Ivy come?’ Orla pleads.

‘I’d love to.’ Her blazing blue eyes lock on mine as she pushes her chair back from the table.

Her smart mouth is testing every bit of my willpower.

Ivy runs the kids a bath. I read them a story. She tucks in Orla, while I tuck in Owen.

It’s only when Owen’s soft snores echo through the room and his face relaxes into a peaceful expression that I back out of his bedroom. Slowly, gently, I close the door.

Ivy is on the landing, closing Orla’s door.

‘Is she asleep?’

‘She is.’ Ivy makes a point of checking the tiny silver watch on her wrist. ‘So, seeing as I’m not “allowed” to go out tonight,’ she uses her fingers to make quotation marks, ‘what am I supposed to do now?’

My eyes roam over her dress. It would be so easy to slip my hand beneath it, or better yet, rip it from her body and see all of her.

But I can’t.

I won’t.

She’s Dermot’s sister. I’d do well to remember it. Especially as he hasn’t stopped harping on about how grateful he is that she’s been placed under my roof. Under my protection.

In reality, the only person she needs protecting from is me. Everything about her has me imagining ripping the clothes off her and making her mine. Tonight’s outfit is doing nothing to alleviate that. I’m not sure what’s worse, Ivy in a dress, or in those yoga pants.

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