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Kendall Ryan is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the contemporary romance novels Hard to Love, Unravel Me, Make Me Yours, and. Read {PDF Epub} Download Love Machine by Kendall Ryan from the story Off by christabeljenneve97 with 52 reads. folk. Simple Way to Read / Download Love. Scribd is the world's largest social reading and publishing site.

About Playing for Keeps I've never been so stupid in my entire life. Elise Parrish, my teammate's incredibly sweet and gorgeous younger sister, should have been off-limits, but my hockey stick didn't get the memo. After our team won the championship, our flirting turned physical, and I took her to bed. Then shame sent her running the next morning from our catastrophic mistake. She thinks I don't remember that night - but every detail is burned into my brain so deeply, I'll never forget.

That was fast. The house is on the cutest little street. Maxwell Alexander lived in a well-kept two-story brick house tucked back on a deep lot filled with mature trees. It was a very pretty home. But not anymore. There, with baby Dylan, I was going to be my authentic self.

I was going to be completely and totally honest. Except, of course, for one tiny little detail. I rolled my eyes. And this little girl—oh my God, you should see her. She came right to me, and she was a complete delight.

Before long, it was going to be cluttered with toys and books, and I would be there with Dylan, taking care of her and doing what I was always meant to do. And I would let them enjoy their family time. And stay far away from her hottie of a daddy, Max. Because the new Addison was firmly rooted in reality and aware of everything going on around her.

We sat together at the tiny table in the corner of the room to eat. It was so not relevant, but still. I want to hear more about you.

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Go on. But that will be a fun job for me, I think. I mean, yeah, I guess. Is he divorced or a widower? After all, it was an interview, not a speed date. I think I can really make a difference here. No Snow White nonsense for her, just a pink tool set and a good strong work ethic.

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Instead, I was thinking about the house. And Dylan. And what it was going to be like when tomorrow came and I was all alone there. With Max. I had to hope that the charisma pouring off him and the effect of that smoking-hot bod wore off once we spent a few days around each other. I was in big trouble. Totally professional. I said yesterday, remember? I was with Greg and then, bam. All my dreams were gone. Two years of my life wasted. I wanted to bang my head against the dining room table.

Not ever. But are you sure you can resist him? In truth? That was no small part of the appeal. But self-destructive, bad-decision-making Addison was dead and gone. And she was going to stay that way. Chapter Five Max Ding-dong. I whirled around just as the toast popped up from the toaster and Dylan shrieked from her high chair. It was seven thirty—a full thirty minutes before the nanny was supposed to be here. And as for the kitchen? I glanced around, looking for any place where the counter was actually visible.

When I opened it, I found Addison on the step with a suitcase, her long brown hair swept into a neat ponytail on top of her head.

Catching sight of her bag, I scrubbed my hand over my face. God, five minutes in and I was already acting like a fuck-stick. What was wrong with me? Dylan squealed again and I rushed for the kitchen, pulling the bread from the toaster and slathering a healthy portion of peanut butter over the browned surface.

Watching Dylan navigate her piece of toast, I was suddenly hit with a wave of worry. Am I doing the right thing by leaving her here today with a perfect stranger?

The coffeepot dinged and I made my way over, briefly debating whether to pour one mug or two before realizing there was only one clean mug left, anyway. She was wearing a light blue button-down top with polka dots. It was prim and proper, very Carol Brady—not that Addison was old enough to know who that was.

She glanced around the room and winced, but then covered it quickly with a smile.

Not much of a schedule. I can work from home while you learn the ropes. She swept her arm through the air, waving me off. You need to work, and Dylan and I need a schedule.

Phone numbers too. You should probably get going. Do you need some coffee first? My cell is the first number on the list. The dimple in her cheek made the briefest appearance, and despite myself, my lips split into a matching smile. I was nearly to the point of turning the handle when she appeared with Dylan at the front window, both of them waving me off. As I backed out of the driveway, they never moved from where they stood. All the while they waved after me, and I watched them in my rearview mirror until they were only specks.

How could Jenn have left Dylan with me like that when it was making my gut churn just to leave her behind with the nanny? I shook my head, marveling at the oddness of parenthood, and doing my best to ignore the little voice in my head that urged me to turn around and go back home to be with Dylan again. Maybe that was why the drive to work felt so exceptionally long. It was like every light turned red and all the traffic crawled to a standstill.

My only options were to the stare at the clock on the dashboard, or wait for my phone to buzz with news about the baby. I knew that any second I would get a message asking me to come home, or telling me that Dylan was sick or. I took a deep breath. My office building was just ahead of me now, and I pulled into my parking space, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. No messages. Dylan was in good hands. I just had to be patient. I could do this. With all that in mind, I climbed the stairs to my office and managed to only check my cell another four times before opening my door and trudging toward my Keurig.

As I popped a K-cup into place, Tiffany hurried through the door, her red hair slightly mussed. A few times, she paused, and I knew she was on the brink of asking me about Dylan, but either my serious gaze or her own inhibitions stopped her.

Whatever the reason was, though, I was grateful for it. Without bothering to excuse myself, I snatched up the phone and thumbed it open. I scrolled down and read the text.

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The text featured a little monkey emoji beneath it, and I smiled. I would never have thought to cook with her or have her help like that, not when she was so young. I sipped my coffee, blowing a deep breath out my nose.

Even now, with all these hypothetical worries trampling my thoughts, I felt better than I had in the last three days combined. Sure, Dylan might get near the stove or the knives when I was around, but I knew Addison would never let that happen. She had a knack. And the way she looked at Dylan? For the next few hours, I timed myself—only allowing myself to glance at my phone every thirty minutes. The girls needed time to bond, and I needed to work.

God knew I needed to work. Around two, though, my phone chimed again and I found another picture waiting for me. This time Addison and Dylan were laughing together, each of them holding sparkly Play-Doh in their hands.

Had Addison brought toys with her? My heart melted when I read the message underneath. No doubt that was a lesson she was going to hang on to. I moved to put my phone down, but then it buzzed in my hand and another message appeared.

I forgot to ask. As for dinner. Her answer came immediately after my response. I smiled. She had a sense of humor beneath that bubbly persona. MAX: No mustard, please. Addison sent a little thumbs-up in return. Grinning, I put the phone down and turned back to my work, but before I got a chance to fully dive in, my office door opened.

Do you and Dylan want to come over to my place tonight? It might be nice for you to get a home-cooked meal for a change. But like I said, that was very nice of you to offer. Thanks again. I threw myself back into work, and at one point, realized that I was humming under my breath.

I patted myself on the back for a job well done.

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Now that Addison was living in the house and taking care of the baby, everything was going to be perfect. Chapter Six Addison I swept the hair out of my face and stared around the newly cleaned kitchen.

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There was no denying it had been an undertaking. My arms were sore up to the elbows from scrubbing away at dishes and getting on my knees to tackle the floors, but there was no doubting the place looked better. I might have even gone so far as to say it looked damned good. God, that little girl was an angel. I hoped Max knew how lucky he was to have her. Playing with her was easy too.

She needed to learn to share, but she understood sounds and shapes well for her age, and when we read together, she listened intently to every word. Other than a picture of an elderly woman with her arm slung around Max, who was wearing an Army Ranger uniform, there were no women in his pictures at all. They were all photos of his college graduation, campfires with his friends, and beach trips. Not anywhere. It was odd. Not really. I let out a sigh and scrolled down the page, then selected the tastiest-looking picture and glanced at the recipe.

With quick, efficient movements, I collected all the ingredients listed and pushed aside the thoughts in my brain that were exploding with curiosity.

And yet. What happened when Dylan was old enough to ask me about her mother? My mind stalled on that thought, idling to picture what a dinner alone with him might be like. What the evening afterward could bring. Excitement and anxiety filled my heart in equal measure.

Just thinking about being alone with him had me nearly hyperventilating. He was just so. With the stern, impassive look that was always on his face, the worry etched into his features, it was hard not to take him seriously. But then I would picture him smiling down at his little girl—holding her in those big strong arms covered in ink, and my knees went weak. His presence was like this looming aura that filled any room he was in, and I was swallowed up in it instantly—on eggshells, holding my breath, hanging on to every word.

And wanting to ride him like a bull at the rodeo. Not that it matters. Because it definitely does not. I shook my head and read over the recipe again, but just as I reached for the first ingredient, the front door swung open. He grinned at me, and I noticed that his straight white smile slanted a little to one side, making his jaw look that much more rugged and square.

It was barely even four. I stepped into the foyer as he looked around the living room and his eyes went wide. No doubt my face looked just as hungry as one too, now that I got a good look at his backside in his fitted slacks. I swallowed hard.

You must be exhausted. You sit down. It was a great day. Even with all the running and chasing and multi-tasking, Dylan was a joy. I already felt a deep bond with the little girl, and the reward that came from taking care of her? Well, that was a whole hell of a lot better than passing paper coffee cups along to bleary-eyed zombie-like commuters. Why should his praise feel like I was being given a gold star by a favorite teacher? And still. He nodded, beaming. God, one more week of living here and I was going to need an oxygen tank.

Shaking my head at myself for what felt like the millionth time, I set to work on dinner. As the vegetables sizzled in their skillet, I set the table, listening to both father and daughter laughing as they said hello to each other again. An hour later when the steak was ready, I called for the little family to join me in the kitchen and served the food on the table.

As we walked past each other, I felt all the air drain from the room again, swallowed up by his very presence. Greg was a glutenfree, GMO-free, non-dairy vegan. After taking so much criticism when I had tried to cook for him, I eventually just gave up. It was irrational, but tears filled my eyes and I had to work to blink them away.

Using his knife and fork, Max cut a big bite of steak and popped it into his mouth. I held my breath while he chewed. You worked all day; you deserve some down time. Partly because I was starving and partly because I was dying to get away from his commanding gaze, but also because my face was flaming at the thought of Max and his needs. Jesus, what kind of nanny pictured her boss naked?

A horny one, my inner devil shot back. I shoved a bite of steak in my mouth and chewed, forcing myself to think of anything but the man across from me.

Desperate for escape and some space between me and Max, the second Dylan was settled and my food was done, I stood from the table and brushed my hands against my jeans.

Which meant I was done for the day, with nothing left to do. I started for the stairs, then decided a bath and pajamas might be a nice idea—just the thing to put me in a mood for chilling.

I filled the tub and stepped in, luxuriating in the bubbles, and trusted that Max had everything covered. I spent the next hour talking myself down. Max was my boss, and hiding in my room every night after six p.

I needed to bite the bullet, face my demons—in this case, the luscious Max—and get past this ridiculous schoolgirl crush. The only way around this thing was through it. When I was done with my bath, I tossed my hair up in a bun, dressed in my pajamas, and headed back down the stairs, filled with a renewed sense of determination.

Maybe we could open a bottle of wine and talk. Break the ice. When I arrived in the kitchen, though, it was to find Max poised at the sink, my ceramic coffee mug in his hands. A surge of guilt rolled over me. Noticing my entrance, he turned to face me, and I could have sworn that his gaze raked over me. I crossed my arms over my chest, if only for good measure. She went out like a light. She only napped for a half hour that second time, so she was probably pooped.

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