The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,35
minds came up with.
“Hi there,” I said to the first child, a girl with big brown eyes and dark braids. Her nametag said Alicia. “What are you working on?”
“It’s a catapult.” She moved the contraption, made primarily of large colored craft sticks and rubber bands. It had a plastic cup filled with mini marshmallows on the arm. “I made a different version, but it didn’t shoot anything very far.”
“Does this design work better?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said with a grin. “Wanna see?”
“Fire away.”
She pressed the arm down and let go, sending three mini marshmallows flying.
“Nice trajectory,” I said.
“Thanks.”
“Have you tried shooting the marshmallows into someone’s mouth?” Jude asked.
Alicia grinned. “Not yet.”
“You know what, I volunteer,” Jude said. He crouched down next to the table.
Oh my god, could he be any cuter?
“I think you just want marshmallows,” I said.
“Hey, this is for science,” he said. “Okay, kiddo, marshmallow me.”
Alicia laughed and the rest of the kids quieted, watching. She loaded her catapult, pressed down the arm, and let loose.
All three marshmallows hit Jude in the face, none making it into his open mouth.
“Aw,” the kids said in a disappointed chorus.
Jude picked up the discarded marshmallows and tossed them in the trash, then got back into position. “That’s okay, let’s do it again.”
Alicia’s tongue stuck out while she carefully loaded the catapult and repositioned it. When she was satisfied, she looked at Jude. He gave her a thumbs-up.
The room quieted with a collective intake of breath. Alicia pressed down on the arm, hesitated, then let go.
The marshmallows flew toward Jude. One bounced off his nose. Another ricocheted off his cheek. But the third sailed straight past his teeth into his open mouth.
Alicia’s arms shot into the air and the other kids erupted with cheers. Jude stood, making a show of chewing the tiny marshmallow. He gave Alicia a high five—low enough for her to reach—then glanced at me and shrugged, his expression a little sheepish.
It was right about then that my ovaries exploded.
We spent the next hour getting mini demonstrations from the kids. Some had art projects—everything from paintings to clay sculptures. Others had built marble runs, rubber-band helicopters, and slingshot rockets. A fourteen-year-old in the middle school room had made a robot using mostly recycled materials.
They had fun showing off their creations. I couldn’t decide what was more enjoyable—watching the kids demonstrate what they’d made, or watching Jude interact with them.
When the last straw roller coaster and paper kaleidoscope had been tried, Jude and I said goodbye to the kids. Sheri walked us out where Joe was waiting in front of the building.
We exchanged thank yous and goodbyes with Sheri, then got back in the car. I checked the time and was just about to ask Jude if he wanted to grab some dinner.
But I closed my mouth, the words unspoken. He’d been adorable with those kids, revealing a side I wouldn’t have guessed existed. It made me want to dig deeper—get to know him better. And it was that very impulse that stilled me into silence.
That and the fact that I had an insane urge to offer to have his babies.
It was best if we kept things professional.
13
Jude
My new morning routine involved grabbing my phone off my nightstand and checking the tracking app I’d installed on Cameron’s phone while I was still blinking sleep from my eyes. Like I couldn’t even get out of bed without checking on her first.
I was always invested in my clients. Even when I’d been reluctant to take a job—which was most of the time—once I’d agreed, I was committed.
My level of commitment to Cameron, however, was something else.
I couldn’t help myself. She was the first thing I thought about when I woke up in the morning and I had to know she was safe at home. It was a compulsion that had developed all too quickly, and one I couldn’t seem to control.
It wasn’t because she was smart and beautiful and a badass. It had nothing to do with those green eyes, sharp wit, or that ass.
God, that ass.
I was just jittery about her situation because my instincts were still whispering danger and I didn’t have answers. I had one of Derek’s people trying to trace the email she’d gotten, but whoever had done it had covered their tracks well. And it turned out, that wasn’t the only one she’d received. There were several more that had been relegated to her spam folder, all with similarly cryptic and vaguely threatening messages.