One More Kiss (Forsaken Sons Book 1) by Elizabeth Lennox (summer beach reads .txt) 📗

it?” she asked, walking over to the box and lifting the lid.  Good grief! For a man who fathered children, or suspected he’d fathered children, it was criminal that this was his only interaction with his offspring.

Frankie was of the opinion that men needed to be held accountable for their offspring.  Right now, the financial, societal, and emotional burden fell to the mothers.  Maybe if more men were held accountable for their children, men would be more careful about birth control.  Right now, men had no real reason to face up to their responsibilities. Coming from a family of just herself and her mother after her father vanished when Frankie was five years old, she had a slight chip on her shoulder when it came to fathers who ignored their parental responsibilities.

“Okay, I’ll go through these letters and will see what I can find.  But I make no promises.  And I require a ten hour deposit, up front.”

The man’s wrinkled lips twisted with fury, but he didn’t argue.  “Fine.  I’ll have my accountant send you a check.  I will expect weekly reports.”

Frankie nodded, since that was her normal process anyway.  It still irked her that he was demanding it, as if he were still trying to control her.  Soon, he’d realize that no one controlled her!

“Fine.  I’ll start the search for your sons as soon as I have the initial deposit.”  With that, she walked out.  If he called out to her again, she wouldn’t stop this time.  No way.  She needed to get away from him.  Maybe go home and take a shower.  After being in that man’s presence, she felt dirty.

Chapter 7

Kinsley drove up to the warehouse Monday morning and wondered about the new fixture off in the distance.  But she was running a bit late for work, so she didn’t have time to examine it further.

She put the bag of food in the fridge, feeling a bit silly for bringing lunch again.  But, in her defense, ever since she’d brought back a deli sandwich for Lincoln last week, they’d shared their lunch together.  Four days of lunches and fascinating, stimulating, sparring conversations.  She’d been…happy.  She truly enjoyed talking with Lincoln and suspected that he enjoyed their conversations just as much, even if some of them devolved into debates.  In fact, as much as she enjoyed her work, enjoyed the challenge of every task Lincoln asked of her, the highlight of her day was having lunch with him and trying to match wits during the meal.

Several hours later, she looked up from her work and realized that it was time for lunch.  She’d heard Lincoln come into the building at some point, but she’d kept her head down, not wanting him to see how excited she was to see him.

Actually, a big part of her didn’t want to admit it to herself.  Carl had called over the weekend, wanting to see a movie and have dinner.  She’d pleaded exhaustion. What did that mean about her relationship with her soon-to-be-fiancé?  What did it mean when she’d rather not exert the energy to spend time with him?  She’d spoken to him over the phone on Saturday and Sunday.  He hadn’t seemed overly concerned about not seeing her, so Kinsley hadn’t pushed either.

Perhaps it was just that she enjoyed her work and respected the man she worked for.  Yes, that was probably it.  She hadn’t avoided Carl this weekend, she’d just been exhausted, mentally, from trying to do a good job here.

So what if Lincoln was one of the most exhilarating conversationalists that she’d ever talked with?  And who cares if she’d rather not deal with the sometimes tedious, mundane conversations she normally had with Carl?  Tedium was a normal part of any relationship, she told herself.  Wasn’t it?

Ignoring the question for now, Kinsley walked into the small kitchen and pulled out the fabric bag that held the cold chicken she’d baked over the weekend. Carl might have wondered why she’d made seven batches of chicken this weekend, but he was too nice to ask.  But after the sixth batch of baked chicken, she knew that she’d gotten the recipe to work perfectly!  The outside was crispy and tangy while the chicken inside was juicy and perfectly cooked.

She’d also made biscuits, but there was a small secret there too.  After trying ten different recipes, she’d finally discovered a scone recipe and knew at once that it was a winner.  Her neighbors had helped as her testers and they’d all agreed.  So, here she was with her baked chicken and buttery scones, a fruit salad with berries still separated so the colors of the fruit wouldn’t get all oogy.  And since she knew that Lincoln had brought fresh squeezed lemonade last week, she’d stirred up a batch of lemonade as well.  She’d researched the best way to make lemonade and had discovered that one had to make a simple syrup first, boiling the water for a long time, then slowly adding in the sugar so that it dissolved.  After cooling the syrup, squeezing the lemons, adding in water then mixing all of those ingredients together, Kinsley hoped that her lemonade was nearly as good as Lincoln’s.

Stepping into his workroom, she hesitated, not wanting to bother him.  For a long moment, she stood in the doorway, just watching him.  Lincoln was intensely focused, his hands manipulating the soldering tool with such amazing precision.  She had no idea what he was working on, but it looked very complicated.

“You’re staring at me,” he observed, still focusing on whatever it was he was doing.

Jerking out of her contemplation of his hands, and her contemplation of what those hands might feel like on her body if he were to…!

Well, she’d gone there in her dreams, but this was the middle of the day.  It wasn’t appropriate to have sexual fantasies about one’s boss.  At least, not during the workday.