Marine for Hire (Front and Center) by Tawna Fenske

Author:Tawna Fenske
Language: ara
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance, military, mistaken identity, nanny, erotic, romantic comedy, older brother best friend
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Brazen)
Published: 2014-01-09T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Sheri breathed deeply, on the brink of hyperventilating. She fought to calm her jangling nerves while buying herself some time to figure out how the hell to handle the most awkward situation she’d encountered since the day she’d shown up at her Mommy and Me group with thong panties static-glued to her sweatshirt.

She blinked, her eyes still adjusting the darkness. The porch light was dim, but she could still see that familiar, handsome face staring coolly back at her.

“Jonathan,” she said at last.

It was partly to warn Sam, who’d come into the room behind her, and partly to remind herself of her ex-husband’s name. She realized her hand hurt and glanced at it, then released her death grip on the door and watched the blood drain back into her fingers. She turned back to her visitor and regarded him through the rusty screen door.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Sheridan,” he said, brushing invisible dust off the immaculate sleeve of his navy whites. “Is that the most polite greeting you can manage for the father of your children?”

Sheri felt her skin prickle with disgust, and wondered where Sam had left that weird-looking chef’s knife. She imagined plunging it into Jonathan’s chest, then forced herself to take three deep breaths before speaking. “Be grateful I didn’t slam the door in your face, you cheating, scum-sucking, low-life, spineless piece of—”

“Hi, I’m Sam.”

Her half-naked manny stepped up beside her, using his broad shoulder as a shield between her and Jonathan. Sam had a towel around his waist, a sheen of water glistening across his chest, and a look that suggested he would be happy to punch a hole in the screen door and strangle Jonathan with his bare hands if Sheri gave the order.

She considered it, then decided blood was too difficult to scrub off the doorstep.

“A little late for a visit, wouldn’t you say?” Sam said. His tone was casually cheerful, but the ice in his voice made Sheri shiver. Or maybe that was the memory of what the two of them had been doing just seconds before. His bare torso was inches away, and Sheri could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. She fought the urge to touch him, to lean into him and absorb all that strength and delicious heat.

“I’m sorry, who did you say you were?” Jonathan asked, folding his arms over chest. “I must have missed that.”

“Sam is my manny,” Sheri said, matching her ex-husband’s folded arm stance. It was less an effort to look tough and more that she felt the belt on her robe slipping.

“Manny?” Jonathan asked in the same tone he would have used to say “gigolo” or “stripper.” He narrowed his eyes at Sam. “What the hell is a manny?”

“A male nanny,” Sam supplied. “Often utilized in a caretaker capacity to provide domestic support and a positive male role model in situations where the paternal figure has abandoned his familial obligations.”

Jonathan blinked, trying to figure out if he’d just been insulted. “What?” He snorted.

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