Daddy's Little Liar - Maren Smith Page 0,38

it. She couldn’t stop rubbing her bottom, either, and everything touching her tender flanks had her thinking was just as insane as his statement had been.

She regretted saying what she had. She regretted stopping it. But seriously, whose bright idea was it to make her in charge of keeping her own spanking going? Especially when it hurt that much. That should be his job, shouldn’t it?

And why was she still here, standing in his living room, waiting for him? Wanting him. His hand had been rock hard, and he’d spared her nothing as he’d paddled every surface inch of her ass. When he’d spanked the backs of her thighs—oh! Georgia winced, reaching back and gingerly touching where the flesh was still burning and aching. One would have thought once the spanking part was over, it would stop hurting. But no, for a brief time, the hurt actually got worse. That was when the heat flared up, growing hotter and hotter until it overwhelmed the pain, turning everything into a deep throbbing sensation that lingered and lingered and...

The back kitchen door suddenly burst open behind her.

“Daddy! She’s still not—” The woman who came strolling in, a toddler balanced on her hip, froze mid-step when she saw Georgia.

Georgia froze, too, her chest tightening so hard that she couldn’t feel herself breathing. “Hello?” she stammered.

“Who are you?” the other woman asked, more startled than upset.

“Um...”

Daddy—Kace?—came out of the back bedroom, fully dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, rubbing his short hair with a damp towel. He also stopped when he saw Iris, and for just a moment, Georgia could have sworn he damn near rolled his eyes. Stifling either a growl or a sigh, he said, “She’s still not back?”

The woman shook her head.

Nodding first, then shaking his head, he sighed. “Okay. Iris, this is Georgia. Georgia, Iris,” he introduced back the other way. He draped the towel over his shoulder, his hands landing on his hips as he asked, “Did she leave a note or anything?”

The woman, Iris, jostled her baby higher on her hip as she looked from Georgia and finally refocused her attention on him. She shook her head. “Not that I found. All the windows are locked, including the laundry room, and she usually leaves that one open for emergencies. She never told me she changed her locks.”

Now he did sigh. “Yeah, well. I had an interesting conversation with your mom earlier. This isn’t an accident. It’s a botched matchmaking.”

Georgia glanced from her to him. “Who’s botched matchmaking?”

“Ours,” Daddy said, forcing a little cheerfulness. “Iris is my ex-wife.”

Oh, Jesus. He really was a Daddy.

He looked at her and forced an even bigger smile. “Ready to go to dinner?”

Slightly appalled, she looked from him back to his ex. “Um…” Taking a slight step back, Iris thumbed over her shoulder. “I’ll just go wait in the car. She can’t be gone forever, right?”

“Oh, I’m willing to bet she’s gone all night,” Kace corrected. “A relationship trap just isn’t worth the effort without pitching us together to sort out our differences in a one-bedroom house.” He turned to Georgia. “You get ready to go to dinner, wash up, whatever you need. You,”—he turned to Iris—“go ahead and bring what you need in from the car. You can have the bedroom. I’ll sleep out here.”

“Oh, I don’t want to put you out.”

“You’ll be sleeping all night in your car, without heat, and it’s going to get cold. Maybe not too cold for you, but it won’t be comfortable or convenient while changing or feeding your kid. Just fair warning, I’m going to have a thing or two to say to your mom when she shows up tomorrow.”

“If she shows tomorrow,” Iris muttered. “And yes, so will I.”

“Um,” Georgia said again, holding up a staying finger. He was setting his ex and their child up in his bedroom for the night, and he still wanted to take her out to dinner? He wasn’t even hiding it from Iris, either. She had no idea how to react, although she was pretty sure she knew how she ought to feel. “You seem very busy…” she tried to hedge.

He turned on her, giving her the same stern look he’d given her earlier, right before bending her over the table. “Get ready for dinner,” he said again. “We’ll talk on the way. After that, if you still want to go, I won’t object.”

“I don’t think—” I’m comfortable with this died on her lips when he arched his