from my hand to my face. I spotted the flash of lust there. I'd inherited my mother's
bedroom eyes and curves so I'd learned to recognize that spark of interest at an early age. To stay safe, I'd
figured out how to read men and anticipate their moves.
It wasn't the first time Greg had looked at me like that. A few months ago, on my birthday, he'd taken
me out for dinner. I'd worn this sexy little black dress and killer heels. I think it was the first time he'd ever
seen me as a young woman and not some abandoned kid he'd needed to look after and protect. It must have
been a startling revelation for him.
After that dinner, he'd been scarce for a week or two. I figured he'd felt weird about lusting after me.
When he'd called me again to check up on me, I'd just assumed he'd dealt with his unwanted feelings and
moved on from them. Now, I wasn't so sure.
It shouldn't have excited me so much but it did. His warm, rough hand clasped mine. He gave it a gentle
squeeze. "I think we need to talk."
I swallowed hard and stared down at him. "Okay."
"I know you waitressed in that club because the money was good but I won't have you degrading
yourself in a place like that anymore."
"Degrading myself? It wasn't a strip joint, Greg. It was just a night club."
"With a clientele of drug dealers and gang bangers," he shot back. With a shake of his head, he
continued, "If you want to get a job, find one in a coffee shop or some other place where you can keep
most of your clothes on, Nez."
I rolled my eyes. "Do you think I haven't already applied to places like that? The job market sucks,
Greg. My class schedule doesn't make things easy. Everyone under twenty-five wants a job with the same
hours I need."
"Then we come up with some kind of alternative."
I arched my eyebrows. "We?"
He nodded. "I promised I'd look after you, Nez. I let you take that job at the club because I didn't think
it was my place to make decisions for you. You're a grown woman."
"Yes, I am." I bristled with annoyance as I waited for the inevitable lecture.
"I should have stepped in to protect you and guide you. I'm sorry that I failed you."
I hadn't been expecting that. "What? You didn't fail me, Greg. You've never failed me. You've always
been there for me."
"Let me be there for you now."
"How?"
"Move in here with me. You can live here while you go to school. That will alleviate most of your
money issues, won't it?"
"Maybe." Rent was my largest expense. I'd done dorm living that first year and had nearly lost my mind.
My roommate had been a straight-up psycho. Without a car, I had to be close to the university and safe
housing in that area wasn't cheap. I was living in a studio right now in the most rundown but safe complex
I could find. Most nights I slept with the lights on because of the bugs. It wasn't exactly a dream situation.
"So what do you say?"
I still reeled with shock at his offer. "You really want me to move in here?"
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you here."
"Why?"
He laughed. "Why not?"
I shrugged. "I'm not the easiest person to live with, Greg. I've got some quirks you might not like."
"We've all got quirks, Nez. It's what makes us interesting."
I stared at our joined hands. "How much for my part of the rent?"
"What?" He shook his head. "No rent, Nez."
"No, I can't live here for free, Greg. I have to pull my weight."
"We'll figure out a trade or something. You can do laundry or cook or something."
I wrinkled my nose. "I can't cook and I hate housework."
"You can't cook?" He seemed surprised.
"I can scramble an egg and make toast and microwave the hell out of things but real cooking? No. Mom
never cooked and I practically lived off of instant noodles and PB&J sandwiches as a little kid. Foster care
wasn't much better. I never lived anywhere long enough to get comfortable in a kitchen."
His hand touched my bare knee. Electric zings traveled up my thigh at his gentle touch. "I'll teach you to
cook.
Marguerite Henry, Bonnie Shields