Calculated Exposure Read Online Free Page A

looked across the room at Grant, who was trying, and failing, to suppress a laugh as he set the table. “You sure she’s Irish?” Curt asked.
    “Mostly. That quarter Italian bit seems dominant, though. She’s averse to potatoes unless they’re going into her nonna’s gnocchi and covered in red sauce.”
    “Nonna?” Emma turned in circles, looking around for the aforementioned missing grandparent.
    “No, honey, Nonna’s not here right now,” Carla said softly, scooping her up. “You can call her later if you want.”
    Emma’s bottom lip stuck out. “I want Nonna.”
    Carla sighed again and looked back and forth from Curt to Erica, finally landing her gaze on the stranger at the table. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back. It’s easier to handle these things before they turn into a full-blown shriek-fest. Five minutes?”
    Erica gave her a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about it. I’m self-entertaining.”
    I bet you are .
    “Good. Uh…” Carla retraced her steps to the stove and center island and knocked lids and covers off everything. “Everyone can help themselves. Dinner’s ready.”
    Grant buckled Adam into his high chair as Erica slipped from the table’s backside and headed toward the center island. She grazed Curt’s front with her side as she passed, and offered no apology.
    “Ladies first,” he said, scenting the hint of violets on the air as she took up station in line in front of him. The aroma was faint, but alluring in the kind of way that made him understand animals’ attraction to flowers. He wanted to hover near her, taste what she was offering, and leave nothing behind for other predators.
    “Curt!”
    He whipped around to see Adam waving a decapitated robot toy at him.
    Headless robot. That’s me . He waved back to the tot, thankful for the momentary distraction, but as soon as he turned back to the island, his stupor returned. Her dark hair’s gentle sway as she reached and filled her plate…and things lower. Curt let his gaze trail down her back, past the cinch of her narrow waist, and settled on the ample backside that pulled the seat of her jeans tight. He reached out and hovered his hand near her ass, seemingly on its own accord, and upon breaking free of the trance, withdrew it and shoved it into his pocket.
    Jesus.
    A surreptitious glance around the room revealed no witnesses, save Adam. Curt blew out a sharp exhalation of relief. He liked women. A lot. Grant knew it. Carla pitied him for it. Still, he tried to keep his hands to himself when around the kids. Wouldn’t do for them to think their godfather was an insufferable letch.
    Hell, am I? He could admit he had been in the past, but he’d been so busy, so distracted lately, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone home with a woman.
    Erica turned ninety degrees, reaching past him for a napkin and grazing his arm in the process.
    The accidental caress felt far too familiar, somehow, although they’d only just met. She must have thought the same because as she drew back, she gave him a saucy wink.
    Shit .
    As nice as her back was, her front was pretty nice, too. He cleared his throat and eased away a couple of paces. He loved dark hair on women, especially when it was long. The shiny, raven tresses hung heavy over her shoulders and framed the perfect oval that was her face. And again, before Curt could help himself, he gave up that space he’d made between them and pulled his hand from his pocket.
    He wound his fingers around a length of the hair near her face, skimming her jaw with his knuckles in the process. She didn’t even twitch.
    “Having fun?” She giggled, seemingly unfazed by his indelicate treatment of her hair. As if it were all so normal for her, she just reached for the mashed potatoes’ serving spoon and heaped a mound onto her dish.
    “Yes, thank you.” He dropped the hair and picked up a plate from the stack.
    “Usually people ask before they touch.”
    He wasn’t like most people.