Just One More Temptation (The Sterling Family Book 4)

Noah led the girls and Fallon into a 1950s style diner that claimed to have world-famous milkshakes. Black and white checked tiles covered the floor and the seats were a red and white pleather. A huge wall decal of a 1950s red Corvette covered one turquoise wall. Was it over-the-top retro? Yes, but the girls loved it.

The hostess, a middle-aged woman with teased hair to match the decade theme, greeted them with a welcoming smile. “Hello to my double D’s!” She greeted the twins with a high five. Glancing at Noah, she winked.

Beside him, Fallon snickered, catching the double entendre.

“Hi, Patty!” they chimed in.

“Your usual booth?” she asked.

Noah nodded. “Thanks.”

She glanced at Fallon, curiosity in her gaze since the three came here often and alone. Noah had no intention of explaining. Even he didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

Patty led them to a table in the back near the ’Vette and gestured for them to sit. Dylan and Dakota scrambled into their usual seats, leaving Noah to sit in the cramped booth next to Fallon. Clearly, he hadn’t thought this invitation through. The idea was to get her out of the girls’ systems, not bring her closer to him.

He gestured for her to slide in. “Unless you want me to?”

She shook her head, gathered her long skirt, and sat down so she could scoot inside. Those crinkled skirts seemed to be a favorite style of hers which led to yet another vision of him hiking up the material, sliding down whatever silky underwear was hidden beneath, and tasting her.

“Noah? Are you going to sit?” Fallon’s voice jolted him out of his reverie.

Swallowing back a curse, he slid into the booth and was immediately hit by her sexy perfume, a warm vanilla scent that went straight to his cock. At least now the evidence was covered by the tabletop, he thought, uncomfortable with the entire situation.

“So, girls, what flavor milkshake is the best?” she asked.

“Chocolate!” Dylan exclaimed.

“Strawberry! And Dad likes vanilla.” Dakota licked her lips, obviously ready for her shake.

Fallon let out a light, tinkling laugh. “I’m not sure why I find that amusing, all three of you liking different flavors, but I do.”

“What’s your favorite flavor, Fallon?”

She clasped her hands on the table and leaned forward, utterly engrossed in conversation with his girls. “I’m a vanilla girl, myself,” she said.

“Just like you, Dad!” Dylan said.

Noah groaned inwardly, because there was nothing vanilla when it came to his thoughts about Fallon.

“What’s your mom’s favorite?” she asked.

“Strawberry like me.” Dakota sounded proud of that fact.

As much as he respected Charlie’s need to follow her dreams, Noah hated what her absence did to his kids. They missed her so much sometimes it gutted him.

“Tell me about what your mom is doing in Egypt,” Fallon said.

Most women wouldn’t think to ask about their mother and he shot her a grateful look. How did Fallon know his girls needed to talk about Charlie and not bury their feelings down deep?

“She’s on an archaeological dig,” Dakota said, her eyes bright as always when talking about Charlie’s work. She was enthralled with learning and unfortunately, the more gruesome parts of the dig, including skeletons.

“She sifts through dirt carefully so they don’t ruin the ancient artfacts,” Dylan added.

“Artifacts,” he corrected, catching the amused lift of Fallon’s full lips.

“Can I get you something to drink?” A young, new-to-the-diner, female server walked over to their table.

The girls gave their milkshake order, Noah adding on his and Fallon’s.

“Thanks. I’ll give you some time to look at the menu and come back,” the waitress said and turned to go get their drinks.

“Can we order? I’m starving,” Dakota said, drawing out the whine on the last word.

The server paused and shifted her stance, waiting for a decision.

He shook his head. “How about you let Fallon look at the menu first? Just because we come here all the time doesn’t mean she knows what she wants to eat.”

Fallon placed a hand on his arm, her long fingers curling around his jacket, and damn if he didn’t feel as if she’d singed the skin beneath.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I already know what I want. A hamburger and fries, please.”

“See?!” Dakota said.

He groaned and gave their standing orders. The server departed with their menus.

“So where were we?” Fallon asked.

“Talking about Mom’s work. Did you know that after someone died, ancient Egyptians pulled out the brains by sticking special needles up their noses?”

“Eew!” Dylan said.

Dakota shifted so her knees were under her and leaned across the table in excitement. Noah gave her the look and she reseated herself in the booth.

“That’s… fascinating?” Fallon asked, in search of a suitable adjective and obviously she wasn’t sure hers was the right one.

“Dakota, not at the dinner table, okay?” Noah chided his daughter. Nobody needed to eat with the idea of pulling out dead people’s brains on their minds.

His daughter folded her arms across her chest and flopped back against the seat with an exaggerated huff. “Fine.”

“You can tell me more about the process later,” Fallon said.

Noah couldn’t help but admire her patience.

The food came out of the kitchen quickly and everyone ate. In between they talked, all discussion of brains forgotten.

He had to remind Dakota not to talk with food in her mouth twice which he considered a positive record.

Dylan pushed for more information about the painting she’d fallen in love with, which led Fallon to ask the girls if they’d like to take a lesson with her. Their excitement for the idea was palpable. Dylan’s questions led him to believe he might have a budding artist on his hands, her talent to be determined.

Fallon talked about her dream of owning her own gallery one day and he realized how wrong he’d been about thinking she was flighty in nature. When Dylan asked if all her paintings were in the gallery, she’d shaken her head. She had more at home and two she’d donated to a silent auction for foster children who aged out of the system. Every word she said impressed him more.

“Can we talk about ancient Egyptians and how they mummify dead people now?” Dakota asked.

“No!” He and Dylan spoke at the same time.

“Sure,” Fallon said simultaneously.

Leaning back, he stared at Fallon, taking in the slope of her nose, the outline of her plush lips. “You’re a trooper,” he told her.

Blushing, she shrugged and took a long sip of her milkshake, drawing a big slurp because she’d finished what was in the glass. Just like his kids.

The girls giggled at the sound and he found himself amused.

“How old are you, anyway?” he asked lightly.

“Twenty-five, but you’re never too old to drink to the end. Still, excuse me,” she said, her cheeks a rosy shade of pink.

Twenty-five. An eleven-year age difference. Jesus fuck. Was that too much? Was she too young for him? And why the hell was he even considering the question?

With full-time custody of his kids and being a partner at the law firm, late at night was the only time that was his and his alone. His freedom for anything or anyone else was severely limited.

And yet Fallon tempted him. Not just her beauty and brains, which he was coming to appreciate, but how she acted around his children. She was quick to smile at them and it wasn’t because she was trying to impress him. She showed no jealousy when he focused on the twins. Not that he and Fallon were on a date, but her ability to talk to the girls like they mattered cracked what he thought was his utter disinterest in women for anything other than finding one for occasional relief.

That just left a host of other issues. Their age difference, the fact that he and the twins were a package deal, and his obligations as a parent always came first.

And… whether or not his interest in Fallon was even reciprocated. If it wasn’t? Either way, he needed the girls to get chasing after her out of their systems.