Page 52 of Double Fault

Too fast.

Toowrong.

She’s the nanny. She can’t be mine, and I’d do well to remember that.

CHAPTER 14

SABRINA

I pullone of the cheesecakes out of the refrigerator in our room and inspect it, then compare it to the photos online.

Dulce de leche, I determine and set it on the counter. I dig out a plastic package of utensils next, then take my spoils over to the couch and turn the TV on. With the volume turned down low, I flip through the channels, not all that hopeful I’ll find anything good playing in the middle of the night.

I settle on a rerun of a sitcom I’ve seen more than once, then pop the lid open on the cheesecake and stick my fork in it. After dinner, I was way too full for even a single bite, but I couldn’t sleep without trying at least one flavor.

When the rich taste explodes on my tongue, a sound more befitting of the bedroom escapes me. I slide my fork from my mouth slowly, savoring the experience. It’s official: Maddie’s got good taste when it comes to restaurants.

I’ve just taken a second bite when the door slides open and Noah steps out, scaring the shit out of me.

His hair mussed from sleep and his sweatpants ride low on his trim hips. No shirt, just all that bronzed skin and muscles for days.

I try my best not to ogle my boss, but with the way my body tingles all over, I can’t deny I’m attracted to him.

“You scared me,” I admonish in a whispered hiss.

He jumps—payback. “Fuck, Sabrina. I didn’t see you.”

Those words,Fuck, Sabrina, in that deep, sleep-filled voice, should be illegal. I lick my lips and lower my face so I’m checking out my dessert instead of him.

He runs his fingers through his hair, stifling a yawn. “Hungry?”

I lift my chin, defiant and maybe a little defensive. Is he seriously going to judge me? “I was ready for a sweet treat.”

He hums, the sound easy, unbothered. Okay, maybe not.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“I slept some, but I was restless.”

I’m blaming my mom. And stupid Dolores, her busy-body aunt. I don’t know how she even stumbled across the singular photo of me walking beside Noah at the Australian Open. We aren’t looking at each other, and there’s a foot of space between us. Maddie was there, too, though she was conveniently cropped out.

Not a single aspect of the image warranted such a mean text message from her.

He nods, his expression sympathetic, as if he knows exactly why I was restless.

“What about you?”

He points at the door to his right. “I was just on my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, right.”

The rooms in this suite share a bathroom.

While he takes care of business, I get back to the cheesecake. I’ve never had a massive sweet tooth, but this dessert may have single-handedly changed things.

The toilet flushes, and a moment later, the water runs in the sink. The thought hasn’t crossed my mind, but in the quiet, where I can’t help but listen to the sounds coming from the locked room, I realize that I haven’t once noticed the toilet seat being left up. Maybe he’s a unicorn who’s always put it down, or maybe it’s a learned habit from living with his wife and Maddie.

The room is illuminated softly for a moment as he opens the door, then he flips the light off and pads across the room to the fridge, where he pulls out a mini bottle of water. It’s golf-ball sized in his massive hands.

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