Burn For You (Boys of the South) by Marquita Valentine

Impressive. “Ladies don’t flash men in public.”
    “How about in private?” I ask softly, then suck my lip ring into my mouth to keep myself from asking more inappropriate questions. Rolling the warm metal against my tongue settles my brain. I can’t help it. I’ve had the piercing since I was fourteen, and it’s a habit. A weird, yet comforting habit. 
    “Do you want your daughter flashing anyone in public or private?” Landry asks.
    “Hell no.”
    “Then maybe you should treat women the way you’d want your daughter to be treated.”
    Annoyed as shit, I take a low shot at her. “Is that why your daddy let you parade around half naked and sit in men’s laps for money?”
    Landry glares at me, her eyes flashing gold. I’m pretty sure that if a knife or gun had been handy, she would have used one or both of them to shut me up.
    “I thought this was an interview, not your insulting assumptions about my family,” she says, bouncing Mia on her knee. 
    Mia starts humming along to the movement. My baby girl looks happier than anything to be sitting with Landry, and that infernal female looks like a natural holding her.  I glance at my watch, thankful for the excuse to do something, and realize it’s past Mia’s nap time.
    I stand up and cross the small distance between us, then hold out my hands to Mia. With a sigh, Landry relinquishes her, saying, “Bye, sweet pea.”
    “I’ll be right back. Afternoon nap time,” I say, striding out of the room. By the time I change Mia, make sure her favorite baby is tucked by her side, cut on Little Mozart, and close the blinds, fifteen minutes have passed.
    I don’t waste any time getting back to Landry, though if it’s because I’m ready for her to be on her way, or because I want to get to know her better, I’m not sure.
    She’s not sitting where I left her. Instead, I find her in front of the shelves that run along either side of the flat-screen television. 
    I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans, coming to stand right behind her. “Snooping, Ms. Basnight?”
    She jumps a little, and I can’t help but grin. Putting her on the defensive actually makes me happy. “I didn’t think you were coming back.”
    “Yet you waited,” I point out.
    Turning around, she lifts her eyes to mine. I suck in a breath. Up this close and in the daytime, I can see the perfection of her skin, the glow in her cheeks, and the innocence in her gaze.
    I drop my gaze to her neck, to that spot where her pulse, I’m entirely satisfied to see, is fluttering wildly. “Do I make you nervous?”
    I take a step forward, and she takes a step back and then another and another, until the shelves block her way and her only alternative is to ask me to move.
    “I read your resume, thoroughly, and I’m very impressed, Ms. Basnight. You have everything I’m looking for in a... nanny. Intelligence, empathy, and a strong work ethic.  Do you want me to go on?”
    Landry licks her plump, pink lips, but she doesn’t answer me.
    “Why so quiet?” I bend my knees, dipping my head. “The cat can’t have your tongue, because—” Her mouth parts, a perfect invitation, and I forget what I’m saying.
    “Because why?” she asks
    What am I doing? I can’t kiss her. I can’t touch her. I can’t do a fucking thing to her. I get myself under control. “Because you’re the kind of female who’s not afraid to say what she wants.”
    “You’ve got me all wrong.” She shakes her head, making a tendril of hair fall. “I say what needs to be said, not what I want to say.”
    I take a step back. “I don’t take your meaning.”
    She blows out a breath, scooting around me. I turn, unable to let her out of my sight for even a second. She walks to the sofa and sits down, her long legs sliding to one side and her hands settling in her lap. A perfect picture of sweet, southern belle, and I’m sure sugar wouldn’t melt her in her mouth. Though I’d like to find out. Hell, I want to