Page 18 of The Au Pair Affair

Lissa scrutinized Tallulah a little too closely for comfort. “Take her to the rooftop garden for your talk, Dad. She has to see it, okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Burgess coughed into his fist. To disguise a laugh? “Good idea.”

Tallulah narrowed her eyes at Burgess as Lissa danced out of the kitchen. “I’m being played. She remembers that I’m a sucker for gardens.”

He shrugged. “You won’t like this one. There are too many water fixtures.”

“Water fixtures?” she echoed wistfully.

“Yeah, the waterfall gets noisy sometimes.” He shuddered. “And it’s too bright up there with all of the string lights.”

She made a sound. “The ones with the big vintage bulbs?”

“You know them?” He cringed. “Awful. Just awful. You’rethere to look at the stars, not a bunch of lights, right? I mean, the stars areright there.”

A giggle carried down the hallway in the direction of Lissa’s room.

Burgess gave her a quick grin. Just a flash of those teeth and her heartbeat doubled. Since when did she have a thing forteeth? And if she did have a sudden fetish for chompers, why was it manifesting itself with a hockey player who could easily lose them with one rogue puck to the face? Everything about...noticingBurgess was inconvenient. She shouldn’t be following him to a romantic rooftop garden for a private chat beneath the stars.

But dammit, she really wanted to see that garden. Enough to go somewhere alone with a man, which she hadn’t felt safe doing in quite some time.

Did she feel safenow?

“There are usually other residents up there,” Burgess said quietly while drying his hands on a kitchen towel. “Not a lot, but my neighbor’s dog gets the zoomies around this time of night and he brings her up there to run in circles.” He set aside the dishrag and slid both hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “He should be there.”

Tallulah studied Burgess, his earlier words from the smoothie shop replaying themselves.I’m just going to come right out and say something, Tallulah, because it feels like it needs to be said. I’ve never laid a hand on a woman in my fucking life and I never will.

Thing was, she was kind of starting to believe him, even if it felt too soon. Too soon to really know someone, especially someone who had a temper and a lot of physical strength. His daughter was not afraid of him, however; that was very obvious. And there was something else. Burgess already had a decent idea of Tallulah’s issue, but he hadn’t pushed for the details. He was exhibiting patience and understanding, addressing her worrieswithout her having to ask—and he wasn’t doing it in a patronizing way. That... counted for something.

“Then I guess you should show me this awful garden.”

Relief rippled across his features. “Brace yourself,” he said, jerking his chin in an indication that Tallulah should precede him out of the kitchen.

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

The rooftop garden wasn’t awful.

It wasbreathtaking.

Pushing through the metal door at the top of a narrow staircase and stepping out onto soft grass, she had to blink several times before she believed what was in front of her. There were, indeed, string lights hanging in a zigzag pattern from one corner of the roof to the other. Colorful Adirondack chairs were arranged in conversation circles on one side. On the other, a bench sat against a brick perimeter wall that was covered in moss. And theview. She could see the uneven chimneys that poked out of nearly every building’s rooftop in Beacon Hill. The tree-lined, cobblestone grid of the neighborhood. Beyond that, she could see the concentrated lights of downtown Boston. Cool September wind rustled leaves of potted trees that were already verging on yellow, soon to be orange.

There was no word for this place other than spectacular.

“Oh, this is playing dirty,” she murmured.

“No.” He drew out the word. “Making us that lemon chicken and... Saksuka?”

She nodded, impressed he remembered.

“Making us a home-cooked meal was playing dirty,” he continued, seeming relieved to have pronounced the dish correctly. “There’s nowhere to go from here but down.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Even if I were to stay, cooking isn’t part of the deal.”

“Of course not.”

It was very difficult not to notice the way the breeze was plastering the thin white T-shirt against his pecs. “I mean it.”

“I know.” His stance was casual, relaxed, but from the corner of her eye, she could see him press his fingers to the base of his spine, massaging in a tight pattern, a slight wince pulling his mouth taut. Before she could ask if he’d received some kind of injury, a little brown Yorkie zipped in front of her. A split second later, it shot by in the other direction.

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