Strictly Temporary. Robyn Grady
set him back.
Not because he was uncomfortable with any aspect of physical attraction, particularly when the person he wanted was so intelligent, competent and full of her own brand of fire. He admired anyone who wanted to stand by a strong opinion—even when they were wrong. His concern stemmed more from the peculiar sense of depth of his attraction to Trinity Matthews. He’d been intrigued by women before but not this way. Frankly the awareness he was experiencing at this precise moment was a little unsettling.
Clearly it was a product of these unusual circumstances. Here they were—isolated, sharing an unanticipated, highly emotive experience. Yes. That must be the reason for it. This unshakable, unrelenting need.
For several moments, he swirled his drink and stared into the fire. When he’d composed himself—physically, mentally—he pushed to his feet then ran a hand through his hair.
“Guess I’ll grab a shower.”
Looking delicious in those oversize pj’s, lounging against those pillows, Trinity summoned a sleepy smile. “I’ll hold the fort.”
Before he surrendered to the beast within, still scratching and begging to be freed, Zack grabbed his cell off the kitchen counter, climbed the stairs and strode into his loft bedroom. Truth was, if it weren’t for the baby, he’d probably open that cage and see what treats might be forthcoming. But after hearing that poor kid cry after her postbottle accident, watching how well Trinity had cared for her, the least he could do was slap a lock on that door—for the time being at least. All the world knew he wasn’t a family-of-his-own type, however, here and now that child must be their number one priority. But once she was settled elsewhere, whether that be back with her mother or in the hands of the state—
Flinching, he ripped off his T-shirt.
The end result was out of his hands.
Two minutes later, hot water was spraying his back while, with one palm pressed against the glass, Zack took time to lather up his front. When his cell phone rang, his first thought was: go away. Call back. But then his brain clicked into gear and, soapy and dripping wet, he reached out to snatch up the phone. The voice belonged to the woman from Child Services he’d spoken with earlier, a Cressida Cassidy.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” Ms. Cassidy said. “I wanted to assure you that the authorities have been informed and a representative from both that department and my own will call tomorrow. The weather’s abysmal. Impassable. I hope you don’t mind caring for the baby overnight.”
“No.” The bathmat already sopping beneath his feet, Zack wiped water off his face. “I mean, that’s fine.”
“Has she settled down?”
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