What the Single Dad Wants... by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page B

don’t live very far away, do you?”
    â€œYou don’t consider Oxnard far away, do you?” The unguarded look of dread that slipped over his face had her hastily negating her response. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she assured him with feeling. “I’m just up the road in Bedford.”
    â€œBedford,” he repeated, letting the city’s name sinkin. He took as deep a breath as he was able, under the circumstances, and released it. It was a lucky thing he wasn’t claustrophobic. “Okay. That’s not far.”
    She wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with her or actually saying that in an attempt to comfort himself.
    â€œNot far at all,” she promised, stepping on the gas a little more aggressively.
    The needle on the speedometer jumped to reflect the increase.
    Brandon slapped both hands on the dashboard, bracing himself as the speed kept increasing. Glancing at the numbers on the gauge above the steering wheel, he saw that she had passed the speed limit and was now on her way to liftoff.
    â€œYou don’t have to break the sound barrier to get us there,” he told her. “I can play the part of a pretzel a little while longer if it means you won’t get a ticket from some revenue hungry motorcycle cop.”
    Because it seemed to make him just a tad nervous, Isabelle eased her foot off the pedal, but only marginally. “Don’t worry, I always watch for them in my rearview mirror.”
    He wouldn’t have pegged her for a speed demon. “Get into many accidents?”
    One eye on the road, the other on her rearview mirror, Isabelle shook her head. “Not yet.”
    â€œImpressive,” was the only word he could summon for the situation.
    Â 
    Within a short amount of time, Isabelle was taking the freeway off-ramp and making her way to the garden apartment complex she’d called home for the past couple of years. It wasn’t located very far from the main thoroughfare.
    The white daisies that had been so plentiful on both sides of the entrance less than a month ago were now bowing their heads listlessly, surrendering to the hot mid-July sun. Even the asphalt path within the recently painted development threatened to be sticky upon contact in today’s heat.
    As she drew closer to her ground floor apartment and the carport that stood directly opposite it, noise from the pool area some hundred yards away behind her own apartment grew progressively louder. It seemed as if anyone who was home at this time of day had opted to find some sort of relief from the heat in the complex’s large pool.
    It was predominantly a very young crowd that took up residence in the Sunflower Creek Apartments. Mostly they were students or recent graduates just starting out in the business world. At twenty-eight, there were days Isabelle felt like an old-timer here. She was definitely one of the older tenants, if not the oldest one in the complex.
    She felt rather out of sync with the other tenants because she rarely had time to mingle with her neighbors and had ignored the one or two flyers that had been jammed between her doorknob and the wall, inviting her to an “all-night party” at the pool.
    The parties were usually scheduled to begin the moment that the complex managers closed their office and went home. The rentals were handled by a retired couple who had nothing in common with the people they accepted as tenants. The duo usually left at the first sign of dusk, which the renters, as a whole, considered fortunate. It was a crowd that loved to party.
    Pulling up into her space, Isabelle began having second thoughts about the wisdom of what she wasdoing. Not about accepting the job—she both needed and wanted that—or even about moving into Brandon Slade’s cavernous home for the duration of his mother’s therapy sessions. She’d already decided that might even turn out to be fun. Lord knew living on the