Spellbound By The Single Dad

They passed through a set of double doors into the area where he worked. Usually he was the only one in these rooms unless he called on an assistant to lend a hand. His heart rate felt uneven and he realized he was uneasy, waiting for Jenna’s reaction.

Jenna stood in the middle of the first room, Bonnie in her arms, and turned around in a full circle. “This is where you work, isn’t it?”

His attention snapped to her. “How did you know?”

“It...” Her voice trailed off as she looked from the surroundings back to him. “This is going to sound crazy, but it feels like you in here.”

“Feels like me,” he repeated dubiously. He narrowed his gaze as he took in the rows and rows of seedlings that he hoped would grow up to be something special, the whiteboards covered in diagrams of the generations of the cultivars, the computers and microscopes. “I’m not sure how it ‘feels’ any different in this room from the other rooms we passed along the way.”

“That’s the crazy part.” She grinned at him. “Maybe—” She leaned in and sniffed his shoulder, and Meg made a grab for her hair. “No. I was thinking maybe it smelled like your cologne in here and my subconscious picked it up, but you’re not wearing any.”

He tried to get his lungs working again after she’d leaned so close. “None of the staff wear cologne to work,” he said, hoping his voice was normal. “We often need to smell fragrances from a flower, so we don’t want outside influences floating around.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what it is then. I’ll keep thinking about it.” She wandered over and peeked through the glass panels in the door to the next room. “What’s through here?”

A small swell of pride filled his chest—this project had been his greatest success so far. “Something I’ve been working on.”

Watching her face so he didn’t miss her reaction, he opened the door and waved her through.

Five

As Jenna stepped through the doorway of Liam’s laboratory, her breath caught in her throat. The windowless room had artificial lighting beaming down on rows of benches covered in small black pots that were bursting with glossy green leaves, each with the same flower on long stalks rising elegantly. It was a single, curved petal of a lily, but this bloom was darkest blue. It was stunning.

“Liam, you created this?” she asked once she’d found her voice.

He nodded. “Well, it was a joint project with Mother Nature.”

“It’s amazing.” She walked along the benches, looking at flower after flower, each as perfect as the last. “Has anyone else seen them?”

“Just the staff here. And Adam and Dylan, so they’re ready for when we release it to the public.”

She couldn’t stop looking at the lilies. She’d never seen anything like them. “This will create a sensation.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m hoping so.”

Unable to resist, she reached out and ran a fingertip over a thick, waxy petal. “What sort of launch are you planning for it?”

“I leave that to my brothers, but Dylan’s office usually has window signs made up for all the Hawke’s Blooms stores when we release a new flower, and Adam’s office will probably put out a press release. Gardening magazines and TV shows usually pick up on it, and occasionally we get lucky and the mainstream media mentions it.”

This flower deserved more than a poster and a press release. This flower deserved fanfare and fame. “Have you ever done anything more to promote your creations?”

“What more is there?” he asked, frowning.

Her mind kicked into gear, suddenly full of possibilities. “Maybe an event. Something to really make a splash. Something that would get you a lot of publicity and make the blue lily the most sought-after flower in the state.”

Liam handed Meg a rubber stress ball from his desk as he asked, “What are you thinking?”

If there was one thing Jenna knew about, it was events. She’d been attending large-scale occasions since she was a child. “It could be almost anything, like a media stunt, or maybe a snazzy release, like the way a bottle of champagne is smashed against the bow of a boat.” She’d christened her first ship when she was sixteen. It was more fun than cutting a ribbon, but there was always the danger of splashing her dress. “Perhaps something elegant. How about a ball?”

“For a flower?” he asked dubiously. “People would go to that?”

“Sure they would if you promise them a good time. Make it the party of the year.”

Meg reached up and grabbed a fistful of his dark, wavy hair, but Liam barely flinched. “What exactly constitutes a ‘party of the year’?”

She thought back over the successful events she’d attended. “Location, guest list, entertainment, food. Just the basics, but done really well.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing.”

“I’ve attended a few in the past. I had a boyfriend who was often invited to big parties and events.” Which was true. In her previous life, whichever guy she’d been seeing had been invited to the events she attended as her plus one.

Apparently accepting her explanation at face value, he sank into a chair in front of a messy desk and leaned back, Meg on his lap. “What else would you do?”

Good question. To start with, they’d need a theme. “Have you named the flower?”

“I was planning on calling it Midnight.”

“That’s perfect,” she said, feeling a little buzz of adrenalin. “You could make midnight the theme of the ball. The decorations would all be in midnight blue, and maybe the official launch would be at the stroke of midnight, perhaps someone cutting a ribbon, and every guest could be given a gift and a cut Midnight Lily. Naturally, you’d make sure there was press coverage, perhaps some influential bloggers, anyone who would talk it up beforehand and afterward.”

He made some notes on a jotter on his desk, then turned to her as Meg tried to grab his pen. “I’ll run it past Adam and Dylan, but I think it’s a great idea. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled. It had been a while since she’d used her brain in that way and it was fun. “I’m sure you’ll make it a success.”

He ran a hand over his chin, then tapped a finger against his jaw. “Would you consider overseeing the event? You have your hands full with Bonnie and Meg, but my admin staff can put all your plans into action. It would be more about being the ideas person and giving advice about the whole thing.”

Jenna chewed the inside of her cheek. The very last place she could be was a party covered by the media. If a single photo of her leaked back to her homeland, her whole plan would come crashing down around her and she’d have to return before she was ready.

“The thing is,” she began, thinking on her feet, “I hate being in front of people, talking to the media, that sort of thing. And crowds. So I’m not the best person to organize it.”

He shook his head, obviously not seeing her objection as an obstacle. “Adam or Dylan would do all the public speaking, and Dylan’s office, which oversees the Hawke’s Blooms stores, has a PR person. She can be the liaison with the media. And if you’re worried about the crowds, you wouldn’t even have to attend. You can be as behind the scenes as you want to be. It’s your ideas I want.”

A bubble of excitement filled her chest just thinking about it, and she held her breath for a beat as if that could contain it. She had heaps of accumulated knowledge about events, which was currently of no benefit to anyone. She could make use of her knowledge and help Liam and Dylan, who’d both given her a home and a job when she’d needed them.

Then again, her conscience protested, she’d never actually organized an event of this size on her own. She’d feel like a fraud. Her excitement deflated.

Reluctantly, she admitted the truth. “The best thing would be to hire an event organizer, someone with experience and training.”

“True, but I’ve never been known for traditional hiring practices. Just look at the process of hiring my brother’s housekeeper to be my nanny, and that’s working out just fine. Besides,” he said with a pointed look, “you’re the one who convinced me that we should do it differently this time, so it’s pretty much your responsibility to see that through.”

She laughed at his attempt at levity. “Okay, all right. I’ll give it a go, but I can’t promise that I’ll do it as well as a professional would.”

A spark of triumph flared in his eyes, and he grinned. “You just do it your way—that’s all I’ll be expecting. I’ll run it past Adam and Dylan and get a team together to meet with you.”

A few minutes later, Jenna pushed the stroller out of the building into the brilliant sunshine and the scents of the flower farm and wondered what she’d just gotten herself into.

“Girls,” she said, looking down at the two babies, “sometime soon I might need to learn to say no to Liam Hawke.”

* * *

When Liam arrived home that night it was almost eleven o’clock. The house was quiet, calm. He felt an ironic smile creep across his face. A few months ago, quiet and calm had been his house’s natural state. Then his daughter had arrived, bringing sunshine and happy chaos with her. Meg had only added to that.

Jenna, however, had interrupted his calm in a different way. In a wholly unexpected and unwelcome way. Even now, thinking about her, his pulse accelerated against his will.

He headed up the stairs and down the hall and noticed the light in Bonnie’s nursery was on. Bonnie must be having her bottle, which was good timing—he could stop in and help with that before falling into bed. But when he reached the room, it was empty of furniture and Jenna stood with her back to him as she painted the walls daffodil yellow. In a simple white T-shirt and cut-off denim shorts stretching nicely over her rounded bottom, she was the most alluring woman he could remember seeing. His mouth was suddenly dry. He swallowed once, twice.

“Well, this is unexpected,” he said, leaning on the door frame.

She whirled to face him, eyes startled and face covered in splatters of bright yellow. A large spot sat lopsided on her nose, and drips decorated her white T-shirt.

“I thought you said it was okay for me to paint this room,” she said in a rush. “The dark browns—”

He held up a hand. “It’s fine. You’re right, I wanted the nursery redecorated—I just thought you’d get a contractor in to do it. Painting walls isn’t in your job description.”

She shoved some hair that had fallen from her ponytail away from her face, but it flopped back straight away. “I wanted to do it. I’ve never painted a room before.”

He couldn’t hold back the laugh—she was so earnest. “It’s hardly up there with life goals like climbing Mt. Everest or touring a medieval castle.”

“I suppose,” she said with a secret smile dancing around her mouth, “it depends on what a person has and hasn’t experienced before.”

“I suppose so.” He pushed off the doorframe and wandered around the room, scrutinizing her handiwork.

“It’s not too bad, is it?” Her hand fluttered as she tucked the stray strand of hair behind her ears. She seemed more uncertain than she had about anything since he’d met her.

The edges were crooked in places, but given it was her first time, it looked remarkably neat. “You’ve done a good job.”

She beamed at the simple praise as she pointed to the windowsill. “I know the edges need some work. I’ll go over them when I’ve finished here.”

“How about I change my clothes and give you a hand? I know some tricks that will make it easier.” He was sure he’d regret this later, but in that moment, seeing her glowing from within, he couldn’t walk away.

“Oh, no,” she said emphatically. “I couldn’t ask you to do that after a long day at work. I’ll be fine.”

“I assume you’ve also put in a long day already. Speaking of your job,” he said mildly, “where exactly is my daughter?”

Jenna rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving another adorable smear of yellow. “Sleeping in Meg’s room. I moved Meg’s crib into my room until I’ve finished in here and Bonnie can move back in.”

“Okay. I’ll do a quick check on her, then change into some old clothes and be back.”

He slipped out and into the room next door and saw the perfect little face of his child. She still made his breath catch in wonder every time he saw her.

She was a miracle, and she was his. Would he ever feel worthy of her?

* * *

Jenna sighed heavily after Liam left the room. Spending time with him on a joint project sounded like sweet torture. It was hard enough being with him late at night when she fed Bonnie, but at least they had the baby to focus on and clearly defined roles. She was the nanny, awake for a night feeding.

Though, truth be told, she was often at sea in Liam’s house. When she’d lived in the palace, she also had a clearly defined role—she was the daughter of the queen and she had access to certain areas, knew who worked where and how things should be. When she’d lived in Dylan’s apartment as his housekeeper, she’d had her own space downstairs and clearly defined boundaries—she cleaned Dylan’s living areas but she didn’t spend time in them, and her own rooms were hers and private.

Yet here in this house, she was sharing Liam’s personal space, despite barely knowing him, despite being his employee. Liam had encouraged her to make herself at home, but that wasn’t realistic.

Could that be why she reacted to her boss as a man? The boundaries of home and work were so confused that the boundaries between the man who signed her paychecks and the man who filled out a button-down shirt like no one’s business were destined to be equally as confused.

Liam strode back into the room wearing an old T-shirt that fit him perfectly and a pair of blue jeans that had become soft with washing and hung low on his hips, molding over his thighs. A low, insistent pulse beat through her body. It seemed that it wasn’t just when he was wearing button-down shirts that he affected her....

“Where would you like me to start?” he asked, his voice deep and rich.

She swallowed, trying to get her voice to work. “Maybe on the edges. As you pointed out, I’m not particularly good at them.”

“No one’s perfect at something the first time they try it, Jenna. It takes practice.” He rested his hands on his hips as he assessed the spots he’d be working on. “You’ve done a good job for your first time.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” she said, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks.

He picked up a paintbrush and dipped it in the sunshine yellow paint. “Just truth. I’m a simple black-and-white, facts-and-figures kinda guy.”

She wondered if he truly believed that or if it was a throwaway line. He’d said it in all seriousness, but surely the man who’d created the Midnight Lily and taken the photographs that adorned the bedroom walls couldn’t see himself as only a “facts-and-figures kinda guy”? She had so many questions about Liam Hawke.

They painted in silence for a few minutes before she found the courage to pose one of them. One she owed it to Bonnie to ask. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“You can ask,” he said, his voice teasing as he crouched to reach a corner. “However, I’ll reserve the right not to answer.”

She paused with her roller midair, trying to get the words right. “You work such long hours. Wouldn’t you prefer to spend more time with Bonnie?”

He shrugged and kept painting. “Of course I would, but I have other responsibilities too.”

“You told Katherine to take on a helper because the situation had changed,” she said as politely as she could. She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, questioning her employer, but she had to say something for Bonnie’s sake. “Shouldn’t the same principle apply to you, so you can balance your obligations to the business with those to Bonnie?”

He reached into his pocket, brought out a roll of masking tape and began to tape around the edges of the window. “Part of the role of a father is to ensure his children have everything they need in life. I know what it’s like to start out poor, and I won’t let that happen to my daughter. So sometimes, yes, I need to work harder and longer so I can make sure she has every opportunity in life that I can create for her.”

Taking her cue from him, Jenna kept working as she spoke, despite wanting to watch his expression. “You know, my parents prioritized their work over spending time with their children.” Their work had been royal duties, but the principle was the same. “Bonnie doesn’t care if her sheets are 1,500-thread count cotton or 300-thread count. She doesn’t care whether she gets to use a designer diaper. She just wants the thing taken off after she’s made a mess. Bonnie cares about you being there, about being held, loved, fed.”

She could feel his gaze land on her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that what I employed you for?”

“Yes and no.” She moved to the next wall and kept painting. The fact they weren’t looking at each other was probably making this personal topic easier to discuss. “Nannies aren’t for life, and after I’m gone, Bonnie will only have you. You will be the constant in her life, the one whose love and attention she’ll crave.”

The silence on the other side of the room made her risk a quick glance at him. She caught him letting out a long breath and rubbing the back of his neck with his spare hand.

She winced, but she’d come this far, so she may as well finish what she’d started. The roller tray was nearly empty, so she tipped more paint from the can as she spoke. “You want to know what I think?”

“Shoot,” he said wearily.

“I think it would be easy to hide in science,” she said, choosing her words with care. “Babies and love are unpredictable and messy. Science is logical. In some ways, science would be simpler than real life.”

“Science has rules. It has order.” His voice was grave with the weight of conviction. “Science is measurable. Science doesn’t lie.”

The silence in the room was heavy, as if they both realized the depth of this accidental revelation. Part of her wanted to leave him alone, not to push on something so personal. The other part couldn’t let this little window into a man who fascinated her go.

“People lie?” she asked softly.

She sneaked a glance and saw him shrug. “They’ve been known to.”

“Like Rebecca not telling you she was pregnant?”

“That’s one example,” he acknowledged, his voice even. Then he shifted position to paint around the windowsill as if this wasn’t a big deal.

Jenna hesitated, again torn between wanting to let him talk and not pushing. Finally, she decided to leave the decision to him. “Liam, you don’t have to tell me anything. I’m just your daughter’s nanny. But if you want to tell me, I’d be interested in listening.”

He didn’t say anything for long moments, then cleared his throat. “When I was eleven, we moved from the Midwest out here to California. I’d been in elementary school and started here in my first year of middle school. My parents thought I’d be fine—all the kids my age were in a new school, so we were all in the same boat.”

“But you were in a different boat altogether,” she guessed.

“I was,” he acknowledged ruefully. “The kids I used to be friends with had helped out on their parents’ farms after school, like we did. The kids in the new school had no responsibilities and were obsessed with labels and other status symbols.”

Her heart broke a little for that boy who was a complete fish out of water, but she tried to keep the sympathy from her voice, knowing he wouldn’t want it. “It sounds like you would have had culture shock.”

“Perhaps I did.” He added more masking tape further along the edge and went back to painting. “Then the flower farm started doing well, and our parents moved the three of us to prestigious private schools.”

She grimaced, imaging what was to come. “Which was worse.”

“Absolutely,” he said on a humorless laugh. “Full of rich kids who were spoiled brats. Bragging and exaggerating were normal parts of conversations, and they were always playing power games. Everything came with a price. Nothing was as it seemed.”

She’d met kids like that when she was young—they’d say they wanted to be her friend, but it was all about her title, not the person she was. “Self-centered and not afraid who knew it.”

“That’s about it.” His voice wasn’t bitter or accusing, simply matter-of-fact. “For a country boy, it was all so foreign. My brothers and I were unfashionably family-oriented.”

“Yet, now you’re probably richer than many of them,” she said, knowing she was pointing out the obvious.

“There’s a difference between self-made wealth and inherited wealth. People who are born to wealth and privilege are a different species.”

Her heart clenched and sank. “And those born to wealth and privilege are a species you have no time for,” she clarified, but his tone had been clear enough.

“It’s a culture of one-upmanship. It’s dishonest.”

If he knew the truth about her, she’d only reinforce his theory—she had been born to wealth and privilege and her life now—even her own name—was a lie. And it mattered. For some reason Liam Hawke’s opinion of her mattered way more than it should. A tight band seemed to clamp around her chest, making it difficult to draw in breath.

“You know,” she said, putting down her roller, “it’s quite late. I’ll finish this tomorrow. Thanks for your help.”

She heard a muffled groan and turned. He stretched up into standing and rubbed a hand over his eyes. If he knew she was another one of the people who lied to him, there would be disgust in his gaze. Disgust at her. How would she be able to stand that? She looked back to the roller tray.

“Jenna,” he said softly.

Even knowing what he’d think of her if he knew the truth, she couldn’t help turning back to him when he said her name.

“I shouldn’t have laid all that on you. I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out to rest on her shoulder. “It’s my crap, not yours and now I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

His nearness made her pulse race, and her shoulder tingled where his hand rested. The contrast between that excitement and the heaviness in her chest about her deception was almost too much to bear.

“No, you didn’t say anything wrong. I’m just tired. Probably too many paint fumes.”

“Here, I’ll help you clean up,” he said, turning and picking up the brushes.

Five more minutes this close to him was out of the question. She had to get some space or risk losing control, pushing him against that wall and kissing him with all the crazy, confused desire inside her. Or she might even break down and confess the secret she’d been keeping. Then he’d see her as the same as all the other people who’d lied to him. Either option was unthinkable.

She pasted on a fake smile that she knew didn’t reach her eyes.

“It will only take me a minute. Really,” she said, with as much conviction as she could muster. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, just watched her with a frown line crossing his forehead. Then he nodded slowly. “Tomorrow.” And he walked out the door.

Six

The afternoon sun streamed through the window of Bonnie’s nursery, silhouetting Jenna as she painted the final touches on the newly white window frame.

She hadn’t heard him, so for a moment Liam took the opportunity to watch her work, to appreciate the sheer beauty of this woman who’d so suddenly become a part of his life. A woman who made the world a little brighter wherever she was.

He must have made a sound because she started and turned. “Oh, it’s you,” she said in her musical accent.

“Just me.” He stepped into the room. “No babies?”

She rested her brush on the side of the paint tin and rose to stretch. “Bonnie’s asleep and Katherine has taken Meg for a walk.”

“Katherine?” he asked, incredulous.

Jenna shrugged one shoulder, causing the pale blue cotton of her T-shirt to stretch across her breasts. “She offered. She said she could see I wanted to finish the painting, but I think she and Meg have developed a certain devotion to each other.”