Daddy’s Temptation by Kelly Myers

1

Hailey

Whew.I let out a breath, drop the heavy box and swipe a strand of dark hair back off my sticky face. Leave it to me to move in August, the hottest damn month of the year. Although, I have to admit that the Southern California version of August is much drier than the humid one I just left back in Indiana.

Good riddance.

I’ve spent the last 23 years trapped in the Hoosier State and now I’m finally free. I throw my arms wide and look up at the blazing blue sky above. Los Angeles is going to be my salvation and I have big plans. But, first things first. I lean over, struggle to pick the box of books back up then decide to just kick them the rest of the way up the sidewalk and through my first-floor front door.

As I’m pushing the box along the pavement, my flip flop gets caught on the corner and I trip. “Dammit,” I mumble. I bend over and slide the stubborn box forward. Crap. I think I just tore the bottom loose. I really should’ve hired movers, but I barely had enough money to get here. There’s no way I could’ve justified such an extravagance.

“Need some help?” a deep voice asks from behind me.

I straighten up and turn to see an extremely handsome man standing there. I shield a hand over my eyes and look up. Good Lord, he’s tall. “Um, sure. Thanks.”

“You must be Hailey,” he says and steps forward. “I’m Ryan Fox. We spoke on the phone.”

“Oh, right. You’re the owner of the building.”

“And, manager. So, if you ever need anything, I’m right over there.” He nods his dark head to the corner unit. “Apartment 7.”

When the sunshine catches his eyes, I can’t help but notice how green they look. Bright and a lighter shade that reminds me of mint chocolate chip ice cream. It’s my favorite flavor and I’m not going to lie, Ryan Fox’s eyes are pretty yummy-looking.

He picks up the box that I packed way too much in with ease and I force myself to look away. But, not before I see the muscles flex at the edge of his shirt sleeve. “Thanks,” I say and lead the way toward my new place, apartment 12. He follows me inside and looks around. “Anywhere in particular you want this?”

“Oh, um, how about over there,” I say and point to the corner. He walks over and sets the box down then steps back and dusts his hands off. “Sorry, it’s so heavy, but all of my music books are in there.”

“Music?”

“I’m a singer. I collect all sorts of coffee table books from Broadway musicals to biographies of musicians.”

“That’s cool. So, you moved out here to pursue a singing career?”

One of the reasons,I think. “Yep.”

“Where are you from again?”

“The middle of nowhere pretty much. The Midwest is probably the most boring place in the entire country so I’m happy to leave it behind.” I’m evading his question, but hopefully he doesn’t really notice.

“Well, welcome to Sunset Terrace.”

I decide that I love his voice. It’s warm and velvety and reminds me of suede. I always notice people’s voices since I sing. The timbre and pitch. The color and texture of someone’s voice is a subtle, invisible thing that I have a knack for discerning. Not everyone can do it and it’s not like any kind of science is involved. It’s almost like asking someone to explain how one cloud differs from another.

Ryan has a voice that makes me want to wrap myself up in it. It’s rich, soothing, deep and so very masculine. If his voice were a drink, it most definitely would be hot chocolate.

“Thanks,” I say and study his face for a moment. He’s good-looking, like really attractive, and I’m guessing he’s near forty. Normally, I stay away from older men because of what happened with my uncle. But, Ryan doesn’t scare me. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Ryan Fox intrigues the hell out of me. Something about him draws me in and I wonder if he’s married. I glance down and don’t see a ring.

“Anything else I can help you with?” he asks and places his hands on lean hips.

My head snaps up from his left hand. “Oh, no, I’m almost done,” I say. “I’d offer you a bottle of water, but I don’t have any yet.”

The corner of his mouth edges up just the slightest bit. I notice he doesn’t seem to smile much. At all, really. “No problem. It was just one box.”

I watch him head back to the door and can’t help but check out the way his jeans hug his ass. And, it’s a mighty-fine ass. I may still be a virgin, but a girl notices these things. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I left Indiana and moved to the big city. I want to find someone I actually like, preferably a man who is experienced, and will make it good for me. Because I came extremely close to having my virginity taken by a stranger.

Thanks to my good-for-nothing uncle. Ugh. The thought of my Uncle Wayne makes my stomach churn.

Ryan turns around at the door. “Oh, I have some paperwork for you to sign when you get a second. Just some lease stuff.”

“Sure. I’ll swing by in a bit.”

“No rush,” Ryan says. “Whenever you’re settled, come on over. I’ll be around.”

I watch him disappear and lean against the wall, trying to get my rapid heartbeat under control. “Ryan Fox,” I murmur. Hmm. He may be just the man for the job. The man who can introduce me to a whole new world of sensuality and the one I will give my virginity to. Just the thought makes me shiver.

I know people say you should wait. Wait until you’re older, wait until you’re ready, wait until you’re in love. Ironically, everyone who preaches for you to wait have all had sex. I may not be in love, but I am 23 and I am beyond ready. From my experience, I know the best thing is to get rid of it as soon as possible when people like my Uncle Wayne think they can use it as a bargaining chip. But, I also want it to be with someone who will make it a good experience.

I shudder and walk back outside into the sunshine, hoping it will help warm my soul. Ever since my parents died in a car accident when I was sixteen, I’ve felt alone and unprotected. I went to live with my Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Wayne and things were alright for a while. But, when my Aunt Sylvia died last year, everything changed.

My Uncle Wayne changed.

I try to block out the bad memories and begin to hum a tune under my breath. Singing has been my solace, my safe place, and I use it to block out the pain and transport myself to another place. All I want to do is leave my old life behind and embrace my new life here in L.A.

“Hey, neighbor!”

I turn and see a gorgeous, long-legged girl with straight, silky, dark hair head my way. She has naturally tan, flawless skin and a worldly air about her.

“I’m Jasmine Torres,” she says and offers a bright-white smile. “Welcome to the building.”

“Thanks,” I say, immediately loving her energy and enthusiasm. “I’m Hailey Lane.”

“Nice to meet you.” She glances over my shoulder and into my place. “Are y’all moved in yet?”

“Just about,” I say and nod to the old pickup truck at the curb. “I have a couple more boxes.”

“C’mon, I’ll help,” she offers and heads down the sidewalk.

We each grab a box out of the back and she looks down at the license plate. “Indiana, huh?” That was quite a drive.”

“Sure was. I’m exhausted. You from here?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Texas, originally. But, I moved here for modeling.”

Yes, it is quite clear that Jasmine Torres is a model. She is probably almost six-feet tall with legs for days and a slim build that was made for clothing designers. She probably looks perfect no matter what she wears. Me, on the other hand...I look down at my 5’5’’ frame with a few too many curves. “What kind of modeling do you do?” I ask.

“I used to do all kinds, but now I only do runway. What about you? Did you move here to chase a dream like everybody else in this building?”

“I’m a singer. So, yeah.”

We both laugh. “If you’re serious, then this is the place to be. And, if you actually have some luck and talent then you’ll make it.”

We walk back into my place and set the boxes down.

“The girl who lived here before you-- Savannah-- was a model.”

“Was?”

“She booked a couple huge campaigns, fell in love with her very hot photographer and the rest is history. Nick just moved her into his place in Malibu. Now she’s studying to be a vet.”

“Oh, nice.” I look around my little place and, for the first time in my life, have something that’s all mine. It feels good. “Well, I’m happy there was a vacancy because I think I’m really going to like living here.”

Jasmine nods. “Sunset Terrace is great. Everyone here is really cool and there are a lot of people our age to hang out with. Every weekend, we have barbecues, swim and lay out. It’s pretty chill and nice to unwind after work and traveling all week.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Well, I’ll let you unpack,” she says. “If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

“Okay, thanks. I have to go sign some paperwork, anyway.”

She gives me a sly smile. “Have you met Foxy Flyboy yet?”

I frown. “Who?”

“Ryan Fox, the owner/manager.”

“Oh, yeah,” I say and flush. “He helped me with a box earlier.”

“Of course, he did,” she says with a chuckle and rolls her eyes. “He’s quite the gentleman and always looking out for everybody. Kind of like a father-figure to all of us here.”

I just nod, remembering those striking green eyes of his. “Why do you call him Foxy Flyboy?”

“He used to fly planes or helicopters or something when he was in the military. And, well, his last name is Fox and, let’s face it, the man is pretty damn hot.”

I can’t deny it. “Does he know you call him that?”

“Oh, hell no!” She bursts out laughing and I can’t help but smile. “If he ever found out, he’d probably die of embarrassment. Ryan is a really nice guy, but he can be shy and mostly keeps to himself. God, I’ve lived here three years and never saw the man bring a woman back to his place.”

“Really? So, he’s not married?”

“Divorced, but no one knows any of the details. He’s pretty close-mouthed about himself. He does have a daughter, but I don’t think they talk much because she never comes around.”

A daughter? Oh, wow.“How old is he?” I ask, trying not to sound too interested. But, I have to admit, I am extremely curious about him.

“Forty-three, I think.”

Twenty years older than me. Yikes. That was a pretty big age gap. But, I kind of didn’t care. I just need a nice man to step up and be my Mr. Right. Preferably someone as handsome as Ryan.

“He looks younger,” I muse.

“Men,” she says and rolls her dark, almond-shaped eyes. “They just get better with age. Lucky bastards.” Then, she tosses me a wave and slips out the front door. “See ‘ya later, Hailey!”

“Bye!”

Well, thanks to Jasmine, I just got the scoop on Ryan “Foxy Flyboy” Fox and it doesn’t sound too bad. I don’t usually date divorced men with daughters, but, then again, I’m not looking to get married. I just want one night full of pleasure to help me forget and make the nightmare of my uncle go away. I’m ready for my new life here to begin and I can’t shed my old life fast enough.