RECKLESS DESIRES THE ODEN LEGACY

As Amiriam pulled up to James's residence, she scowled and studied the unfamiliar car ahead. It was a gaudy, red BMW, but she couldn't put a model name to it for the life of her. Her favorite six-year-old squirmed in the back seat, reminding her. Looking in the rearview mirror, she mashed her SUV into park and focused on matters more urgent. Like preventing urine from dripping onto her leather seats.

"Do you need to go pee?" she asked James. She was his nanny for a couple of years, and it truly was the greatest job in the world. He had a sticky mop of dark, curly hair on his head, and two dimples that made him able to get away with murder. Most of the time, at least.

With a quick motion of his head, James unfastened his seat belt and scooted over toward the back passenger door as if his pants were afire.

That's what you get for not going while we were still at my sister's house, Amiriam had to think about saying, but she kept quiet. It made no difference how many times she instructed the boy to listen to her; if he didn't feel like it, he wouldn't. And reminding him of the fact that she was correct wouldn't do any good, either.

Sprinting to catch up with the boy, Amiriam searched for the keys that would open his front door as she gazed upon the strange car suspiciously.

James was the first to reach the front door and swung it open, making Amiriam put her hand, which contained keys, down to the side. If the door were open, then that would imply an older brother was home. Well, half-brother if they needed to get all technical. She didn't know much about enigmatic Luke Oden other than the fact that he and his little brother shared the same dimples-and the same disrespect for obeying the rules. The man had gotten under her skin at every meeting they'd ever had, and she'd learned to keep him at arm's length if she hoped to keep her sanity.

"Yay, me," she grumbled to herself and then entered the humongous foyer. White and black marble tiles comprised the floor, and fresh-burning bleach permeated the air so that James's house smelled more of sterile museum than home space.

Maybe AMA, the maid, had a new vehicle and bought it on sale because the douche Amiriam wouldn't deal with was out again man-whoring in the city.

Then she remembered the make of the car, and her shoulders sagged. It was a BMW. AMA could never pay for a BMW.

Dammit.

In search of the blessed cool air to soothe her cheeks, Amiriam discovered it to be as hot as Hades inside, and her brows furrowed in puzzlement.

What the hell?

James's parents were away, and it seemed that she got to have a handyman come to repair the AC unit.

Her ears perked up at the strange sound of rap music coming from deeper inside the house, startling her from the unusually warm accompanied in the foyer. Having heard it, she peeked into the dining room to find it empty before venturing farther toward the middle of the house. The family room was not occupied, nor was the kitchen. Curious, she inspected the study when James called her name over his shoulder and diverted her attention.

"Hey, Amiriam. What's that?" Dangling from his six-year-old fingers was a crimson, lacy bra, and her eyes were about to come out of their sockets.

Bending forward, she yanked the delicate stuff from him and then jammed it behind her back.

"Where in the world did you get that?" she snarled, the face growing flushed with embarrassment and anger.

"It was on the couch. Is that.?" Now his face was burning bright red.

Reaching into her rear pocket, she took out her phone and nearly shoved it into James's chest. "It's nothing. Here. Take this, stay in here, and play some games for a bit, okay? Don't go outside till I come and get you. Get it?"

The electronics-addicted kid didn't even let her finish before he opened her phone and dove into the first game his wee fingers happened to find.