A Nanny Under the Mistletoe

She looked up and there was nothing happy in her expression. “He shows up from time to time.”

“You didn’t tell him you’re working for me?”

“I did today.”

Not what he meant and the look on her face told him she knew that. “Does your mother know about this job?”

“She died when I was born.”

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

Before he could ask even one of the million questions that popped into his head, Morgan ran back into the kitchen and Libby was reminding her to slow down and be careful of her hand. After that the routine ritual of table-clearing and bathtime commenced. The fact that it was becoming familiar to him wasn’t as disturbing as curiosity about Libby.

He hoped that was because she so obviously didn’t want to talk about her father. He figured that was because of a strained relationship, something he understood only too well. He didn’t share information about his mother because there was nothing to be gained by telling a story that always managed to piss him off all over again.

He refused to consider that his high curiosity level was due to anything more than Libby’s out-of-the-ordinary reserve. Every time their paths had crossed over the years, her smart, sassy sense of humor drew him, among other things that had caught his attention and some that hadn’t until she’d moved into his penthouse.

He’d deliberately pretended not to remember her because he couldn’t ever completely forget her. He had sensed the moment they met that she could be more to him, which wasn’t something he ever wanted. The problem was getting that message where it needed to go. Every day he became more aware that she was bright and sexy. Not drop-dead gorgeous, but definitely pretty. And he was damned attracted.

The good news was that Morgan had talked to him more than she ever had and didn’t seem to hold the emergencyroom fiasco against him. The bad? Every day it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep himself from kissing the nanny.

And that would be a huge mistake.

Libby expected Jess to work late and miss Halloween, but that hadn’t stopped her from hoping she’d be wrong. She wasn’t. When he walked into the penthouse, Morgan was already asleep, worn out from trick-or-treating and the excitement of wearing her costume.

He came into the kitchen, where Libby was standing by the island, inspecting the cache of candy the little girl had collected in her plastic pumpkin.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said by way of greeting.

“Yeah.”

With his jacket slung over his shoulder and held by one finger, he looked every inch a corporate pirate. His tie was loosened and the first button of his white dress shirt undone, with the long sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. The look was so blatantly male, so incredibly masculine that he quite literally took her breath away. She wasn’t prepared for that, but then she never was. There was no way to brace for the overwhelming force of attraction she’d experienced from the moment they’d met.

Jess picked up a chocolate bar and the expression on his face held traces of regret, which was surprising. “Did Morgan have fun?”

“Big time.” Libby tossed a small bag of hard candy with a tear in the package onto the discard pile. “I took her to the District in Green Valley Ranch. The stores surround a big courtyard and were all giving out candy. It had a safe, blockparty sort of feel and there were lots of kids. She had a blast.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see her dressed up.”

“It’s not too late. She insisted on wearing her princess costume to bed.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “You let her?”

“It’s a special occasion. Relaxing the rules seemed like a good idea.” Relax being the operative word since there was something she needed to discuss with him. “You can look in on her if you want.”

“I’ll do that.”

And there was a surprise. Every time she thought she had him figured out he did the unexpected.

He was gone for a while and returned wearing worn jeans and a pale yellow pullover sweater with the neck of his white T-shirt peeking out. Another masculine look that rocked her hormones. She should be used to it by now, but not so much.

“She looks pretty cute,” he said. “While I think it’s really cool, I have to ask. You don’t think the glow-in-the-dark tiara is dangerous?”

Libby laughed. “I tried to talk her out of sleeping in it, but she was willing to take the risk. Then things threatened to get ugly. That wasn’t a hill I wanted to die on, since I can take it off when she’s sound asleep.”

“Sounds like a wise decision.” He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a longneck brown beer bottle, then twisted off the metal cap.

“Speaking of wise…”

Libby wasn’t anxious to bring up the subject of his father or parental males in general after all the questions he asked about her own. Jess had never shown quite that level of interest in her before and she regretted more than was prudent that it probably wasn’t about her at all. For the record, he was smart to be wary of her father.

As much as she didn’t want to, she needed to talk—specifically about his feelings after his father died. He might be able to help Morgan more than anyone.

“What?” He took a drink of beer.

“I was hoping you could help with something.”

“If I can,” he agreed.

“Miss Connie came to see me today.”

“Who?”

“Her kindergarten teacher. She was wondering how Morgan’s coping with the loss of her parents.”

“What do you think?” he asked.

“That’s difficult to answer.” Absently she twisted the cellophane ends of a candy package. “I had to break the news to her.”

Libby remembered that horrible day. Reeling from the news that her best friend wasn’t ever coming home. The realization that she’d have to tell Morgan something that no child should have to hear. “She didn’t have an immediate reaction except to get very quiet. I figured she was only five and hadn’t seen them for months, which is forever to a kid.”

“That makes sense.” The tone was casual and completely at odds with the hard edges and shadows on his face.

“But the regular phone calls from Charity and Ben stopped. I’ve sort of been waiting for her to bring up the subject, if she wants to talk about it.”

“And?” he prompted.

Libby toed open the stainless-steel trash can, then tossed in the questionable candy before meeting his gaze. “She hasn’t mentioned Charity and Ben at all. The thing is, I don’t know how a kid would react to something like that.”

He leaned a hip on the bar stool beside her. “I’m not sure how I can help.”

“You lost your dad when you were just a kid. I was wondering how you handled it.”

He’d started to lift the bottle to his mouth and stopped. The expression on his face said he’d rather walk naked in a hail storm than discuss this.

“That was a long time ago. I don’t remember anything specific.”

Something about his tone made her think he wasn’t telling the whole truth about that. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t open up. For all his flaws, shallowness being top of the list, she’d never known him to be deliberately mean. And clearly he was loyal. Maybe she could get him to share.

“Did you talk about how you felt? To a counselor? A teacher? Or some other professional?”

“No.” A muscle in his jaw jerked.

“Was there anything your mother did to make it easier?”

He set the beer down with enough force to splash some of the liquid on the counter. “Like I said, it was a long time ago. And I was only a few years older than Morgan.”

“Which is why I think you’re the best person to consult about how to proceed—”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Little girls are way outside my area of expertise.”

In essence he was refusing to discuss the issue, which tweaked Libby’s temper. “Right. I forgot. Big girls are more your style.”

“I like women,” he agreed.

Libby remembered. She hadn’t meant to say anything out loud and wasn’t sure why she did now. That wasn’t exactly true. It was no surprise that he dated, but seeing Elena Cavanaugh had hurt more than she was prepared for. His type was something she would never be, and face-to-face confirmation was tough to reconcile.

“A child is definitely a responsibility,” she said, bringing the subject back to the little girl. “Is the obligation cramping your style?”

“Morgan is the daughter of my best friend. He’d have done the same for me.”

That wasn’t an answer and sounded more like the company line than a reason to raise an orphaned little girl. This time a dash of irritation made her ask, “Did you ever plan to have children?”

“Honestly?”

“Always the best policy,” she said.

“Since high school my focus has been on achieving success. I knew business was the best way to do that and concentrated all my energy in college on learning everything I could to get me where I wanted to be. I’m determined to make the name Jess Donnelly as recognizable and synonymous with Las Vegas resorts as Steve Wynn or the Maloof family with their fantasy suites at the Palms Hotel.”

“So children aren’t now nor have they ever been one of your priorities?”

“No.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

His gaze narrowed. “Has anyone ever told you that’s quite the talent you’ve got for lobbing verbal zingers?”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I didn’t say that. Just that I noticed.”

“That makes two of us.” Libby froze, then let out a long breath.

What she noticed reinforced that her recent appointment with the attorney had been the right thing to do. The family law specialist had promised to research the situation and get back to her on options for Morgan’s custody—if it became clear that was in the child’s best interest. Libby still hadn’t made up her mind about that.

Sometimes Jess showed signs of bonding with Morgan, then he pulled back. Like tonight. Missing Halloween.

Or maybe she was painting her perception of him with the rejection brush he used on her. She wasn’t proud of the way she yearned for him to become aware of her but couldn’t deny the feelings for him that had simmered inside her for so long.

“What did you notice?” he asked.

Like she would actually share her most personal and intimate thoughts with him. “It’s not so much that as watching Morgan tonight. She made a couple of comments about kids with the adults around them. Wondering if they were moms and dads.”

Jess folded his arms over his chest. “So you’re wondering whether or not her teacher is right about a delayed reaction to losing her parents.”

“Yeah. It crossed my mind.” Among other things, she thought.

“Do you think she needs to see a professional?”

“It’s an option,” she agreed. “I think it might be best to just observe for a while.”

“Okay,” he said.

“And I’m thinking it might be a good idea to get out pictures of Charity and Ben. Not only is there a chance she would open up, but we should try and keep their memory alive for their child.”

“You’re right. Okay.”

Okay. There’d been willingness in his voice to do whatever Morgan needed. That was the kind of thing that warmed Libby’s heart and fueled her impossible fantasies where Jess was concerned. It’s why she wasn’t prepared to do anything drastic to uproot Morgan yet again.

As long as Libby was around to keep that little girl from getting hurt, there was no reason things couldn’t stay the way they were. And that was the problem. They’d agreed she would stay on as nanny until Morgan adjusted. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t decide tomorrow that Morgan was peachy and Libby’s services were no longer required.

She didn’t think he was there yet. At the moment she was more worried about her secret crush on him. But she’d had a lot of practice in hiding how she felt and would simply keep on not letting Jess see what was in her heart, the feelings that just refused to go away.

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