Falling For The Nanny: The Billionaire's Baby SOS / The Nanny Bombshell / The Nanny Who Kissed Her Boss

“Okay.”

In only a few minutes on the internet they’d found and ordered the changing table and some interesting toys.

“I like the cone,” he said, referring to the toy with the multicolored rings that fit on a cone. “It’s simple, but I can see how it will keep her busy.”

“And showing her how to play with the rings will give you something to do with her.”

Holding Bella, who chewed on her rattle, Matt rose from his seat behind the desk. He didn’t get two steps away before his phone rang.

He stopped and Claire stepped forward to get Bella. “I’ll take her.”

He reached for the phone. “Thanks. I don’t get a lot of calls here so this has to be important.”

Claire took Bella to the rug in front of the sofa, sat her on the floor and lowered herself beside her. After a few seconds of peekaboo, she crawled to the left of the sofa, hiding from the baby, only to pop out every few seconds and say, “Boo.”

There was a voice on the other end of the line, “Mr. Patterson? Are you there?”

Realizing he’d been so preoccupied with Claire that he hadn’t even said hello, Matt responded, “Um, sorry. I’m here.”

“It’s Rafe from Hansen’s Department Store. The baby carrier you ordered doesn’t come in that shade of pink. We can order one, but we already have it in blue or green.”

“I want the pink,” he said absently, watching Claire play with Bella. She was a natural with kids and her game reminded him of hot summer days spent at Cedric’s beach house, when he and his siblings played hide-and-seek. Though his mother had never joined in, he could see Claire joining her children. He could see her climbing sand mounds at the beach or peeking out from behind trees in the lush yard behind his house. His house. This estate.

“Also some of the toys will have to be ordered.”

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “That’s fine.”

“Great. We’ll deliver what we have in stock this afternoon. And the rest we should have by Thursday.”

“Thanks.”

But when he hung up the phone, he didn’t go over to Bella. Instead, he walked to the front of the desk and sat on the edge. He knew he was supposed to be watching Claire to get the gist of how to play with Bella, but he couldn’t stop picturing her with lots of kids. Playing, but always with a mother’s eye on them.

And he suddenly realized why he couldn’t stop watching her. The picture appealed to him. Her, with kids, and a house that would be a real home. He wouldn’t be an interloper being passed off as someone’s son. He’d be Daddy.

A squeak erupted from his throat. Now, what was he doing? Trying to make up for his past with a woman he hardly knew…and wanting kids?

That was just wrong.

Bella’s giggling brought him back to the present. Claire crawled over to her and tickled her tummy. Then she scooped her up with her as she rose.

“You’re such a funny little girl.”

Bella squealed with delight.

“You love to play.”

She cuddled Bella to her and the baby nestled in. Just about to turn away before he started spinning odd fantasies again, Matt stopped himself.

Maybe he wasn’t so much envisioning himself with a family, but Claire. After their discussions today, he’d be an idiot not to realize this was a woman who longed for a family.

He frowned, watching her.

Maybe that’s what drew him? They hadn’t known each other long enough to really like each other. Yet he couldn’t deny being drawn to her. So did he want a family…or did he simply want help with Bella? Real help. Not just a nanny to care for his baby, but someone to love her in ways Matt wasn’t sure he could?

CHAPTER NINE

WITH his new questions about Claire confusing him, Matt spent Wednesday trying to avoid her. But how could he when caring for Bella together put them in the same room all the time? When she finally went to bed, he got a few minutes of peace and quiet, but when he entered his bedroom, he could smell her. Her scent wasn’t just in the bathroom anymore. No. It was everywhere.

Thursday morning, Bella seemed to have learned that spitting out her food could be entertaining, so Matt found himself stationed by the high chair, wiping spit food off the tray, putting himself directly in line with Claire’s scent.

After breakfast, they rolled a ball back and forth for an hour, keeping Claire’s scent around him and emphasizing the fact that they didn’t talk.

They couldn’t. Every time they talked, they got to know each other. And when he got to know her, he liked her. But when they didn’t talk, he thought about her. Wondered how a little girl got along without a mom when she had a distant dad. Wondered why she wasn’t bitter, as he was about his family. Wondered how she’d stayed so sweet.

Though he needed to learn everything he could while he had Claire with him, by Thursday afternoon he knew there had to be a better way to handle this. They had to find something to do while they cared for the baby. Something that would occupy their minds enough that he could stop thinking.

He wanted twenty minutes of not thinking. Not about his family, not about Bella and especially not his unwanted attraction to Claire.

He pushed himself away from the desk. “You know what? I think we should spend the rest of the afternoon cooking dinner.”

Claire glanced over. “Cooking dinner?”

“Yeah. I’m getting a little tired of takeout. But we also have to spend time with the baby. So I thought we could put her in the high chair and chitchat with her as we put a roast in the oven.”

She walked the baby over to him. “That’s a great idea. We’ll get dinner, but you’ll also learn how to multitask with a baby.”

“How is that different from regular multitasking?”

“No matter what you’re doing, if Bella needs tending to, she becomes the priority. This is a great way to start seeing that.”

Matt shook his head, unable to stop the laugh that escaped. “Seriously? You think I’m that stupid?”

He expected her to have some kind of funny comeback. Instead, she froze. “You laughed.”

“What you said was either insulting or funny. I chose funny.”

“Okay…” She bit her lip. “It’s just that—” She stopped again.

“What?”

“When we met you never laughed. You smiled a bit, but sort of craftily like you were trying to figure me out. Then you started ‘kind of’ laughing. But not really laughing, more like chuckling. You just really laughed. A genuine laugh. As if you’re happy.”

He headed for the door. “I’m not happy.” He stopped, raked his fingers through his hair, as that damned confusion overwhelmed him again. Technically, he was happy. He liked who he was and what he did. “That’s not to say I’m unhappy. Things are working out with Bella.” He stopped again. What the hell was going on with him? Why did he feel he had to explain himself to her? He strode to the door. “Could we please drop it?”

She raced after him. “Why? I think it’s cute. You like Bella. Or maybe you like the idea of being a dad.” She smiled dreamily. “It’s cute.”

He walked out of the office and toward the kitchen. “It’s not cute. I’m confused.” Realizing he was talking to her again, admitting things he shouldn’t, he stopped abruptly and she almost plowed into his back. “Could we just forget it?”

“Okay. Sure. I’m certainly not trying to talk about personal things. But I think Bella makes you happy. That’s all I want to say. You don’t have to answer, explain or refute it. It’s just an observation.”

But as they worked together seasoning the roast, peeling potatoes, preparing vegetables to make a salad when the roast was done, she continued to wear that ridiculously dreamy smile. A smile that said she was thrilled all this was working out for Bella.

Bella sat in her high chair, cheerfully banging a rattle on the tray. Claire chopped veggies, dreamily thinking thoughts Matt was absolutely positive he didn’t want to know. And he organized everything, getting rid of his pent-up energy and doing what needed to be done. Like the man of the house.

Damn. There he went again. Thinking about things, his life, in ways that were foreign. He wasn’t a family man. He didn’t want a family.

But he had one.

And he had to admit that with Bella settling in and him growing accustomed to her he did feel…happy.

All these years he’d thought his successes and toys made had him happy. But the new feeling bubbling through him told him they only made him feel successful.

Claire or Bella or maybe Claire and Bella made him happy.

And it scared the snot out of him.

The buzzer for the gate rang and he walked to the intercom. The screen above the row of buttons showed a truck with the Hansen’s Department Store logo on the door.

“Yes.”

“I have a delivery for Matt Patterson.”

“Gate is opening. Come to the front entrance.”

Without looking at Claire, he said, “I’ll take care of this,” and left the room.

After lighting the burner under the potatoes to cook them for mashed potatoes, Claire fell to the chair near the high chair. “Your daddy is the first person I’ve ever met who didn’t want to be happy.”

Bella gurgled.

“You’re right. Let’s hope he gets accustomed to it.” She ruffled Bella’s soft tuft of hair. “What am I thinking? You’ll get him accustomed to it.”

She would. Because Bella had the rest of her life to worm her way into his heart.

Which was a very good reminder to Claire. With everything Matt did, she liked him more. Try as he might to be grouchy and sullen, he was growing accustomed to Bella and enjoying being a dad. And that was very attractive. But, though he’d accommodated a baby in his life, this wasn’t a guy who would fall head over heels in love with a woman. She’d be lucky if he remembered her name after she left. She wasn’t here to make him happy, worm her way into his heart or fall in love. She was here for the baby. And she’d do well to remember that.

Claire stayed in the kitchen with Bella and finished the mashed potatoes. When the delivery man left, she unwrapped the additional toys that had arrived that afternoon. She showed Matt how to dump the colored rings from the cone onto the floor and help Bella rearrange them on the cone again. With all the playing, Bella grew tired more quickly than usual and Claire and Matt just barely got her bathed before she fell asleep at seven.

They walked into the kitchen silently. Both of them probably as tired as Bella, and both of them lost in thought.

Matt went directly to the oven. “With her going to bed this early, is she going to sleep tonight?”

Claire shrugged. “Hard to say. But when a baby is falling asleep on your arm, you can’t really keep her awake.”

He set the roast on the stove. The delicious aroma floated over to Claire and her stomach growled. She set the table as he carved the roast. She got the salad from the refrigerator and put the mashed potatoes into the microwave for a quick reheat.

They sat down to eat as silent as they’d been while putting together their meal.

After a minute of quiet, Matt rose. He pressed a few buttons on the panel containing the intercom and video feed from the gate, and soft music filled the kitchen.

“No reason for us to be completely uncivilized,” he said as he returned to his seat.

“Right.” She sucked in a breath. Obviously, the quiet in the room got to him, too. But they’d made a promise not to talk about personal things, and neither one of them wanted to risk it. Of course, his job was probably a safe subject.

“Do you do a lot of traveling for your business?”

“Only because I want to. If you’re worried about me leaving Bella, I can arrange my schedule so I don’t have to.” He smiled. “People will come to me.”

She nodded, but the urge to tease him rose up in her, so strong and so natural, it nearly stole her breath. Since that kiss, they’d focused on Bella. Hadn’t teased. Hadn’t meandered into personal territory. And that had worked out very well. No yelling. No hurt feelings. She would not overstep those boundaries.

“Good point.”

“So what about you? Have they done okay without you at Dysart Adoptions this week?”

“Easily. Joni and I are basically the only two caseworkers, but with our receptionist we’re enough. We go through a lot of slow seasons. We’re in one now.”

“Me, too.” He dug into his mashed potatoes. “I love what I do, though.”

“What exactly do you do?”

“Buy and sell things. Stocks. Companies.”

Comfortable with their safe topic, they talked about his business dealings through the remainder of dinner. She learned he’d gotten his nickname “Iceman” because he could be totally heartless about firing upper management.

Which made her laugh. “Seriously. Who gets all upset about a guy being asked to leave a big corporation when he goes with a golden parachute?”

“You’re forgetting who gave me the nickname…Other CEOs. The very people I fire.” He frowned. “And we forgot dessert.” He glanced over at her. “We don’t have dessert.”

“You have pudding cups.”

“That’s right! I do.”

He walked to the refrigerator, pulled out two pudding cups and ambled back. “Vanilla or chocolate?”

“Chocolate.”

“Great. Vanilla’s actually my favorite.”

He handed her the pudding cup and took his seat again.

She peeled off the lid, took a bite and groaned in ecstasy. “These are great.”

“No point in having a secret vice if it isn’t great.”

She laughed. “I never thought of that.”

They finished their pudding and she automatically got up to clear the table. “You go make your calls or whatever you need to do.” The baby monitor had stayed silent. Bella was okay. And she could wash a few dishes.

But he shook his head. “I’m not going to leave you to clean up alone. You’re helping me enough.”

Warmth spiraled through her. She’d always known he appreciated her help, but it never hurt to hear the words.

After gathering the dishes, she walked them to the sink.

His eyebrows rose. “You’re not using the dishwasher?”

“For a couple dishes? We can have these done in five minutes. The dishwasher will take forty and tons more water.”

As she filled a sink, he found a dishtowel, slung it over his shoulder, then finished clearing the table.

When the sink was filled to capacity with dirty dishes and sparkling bubbles, she washed a plate, rinsed it and put it in the dish drainer. “Somebody must wash dishes in here. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a drainer.”

“I think my cook prefers to wash the pots.”

She peeked at him through her peripheral vision. “Really?”

“She’s very fussy about her pots.”

“Makes sense, I guess. I don’t cook much.” She glanced at him again. “Not much reason to cook for one.”

“Unless you’re hungry.”

“I eat a big lunch.”

“Oh, so in other words if you ever got married and had someone to cook for, you’d start eating supper and get as round as Bella?”

She gaped at him. “Did you just call Bella fat?”

“She’s not fat. She’s healthy.”

Her eyebrow rose. “And I’m not?”

His mouth fell open. “I didn’t say that!”

She caught a handful of soap bubbles in her cupped hand and flung them at him. She’d intended to hit his T-shirt. Instead, she got his nose.

The expression on his face was priceless. But shock quickly morphed into challenge. “You wanna go?”

She eeked. “No! You’re the one who called me fat.”

“I called Bella fat and you unhealthy. According to you.” He reached down, scooped out some bubbles and flipped them into her face.

She gasped and, without thought, got more bubbles and flung them at him. “You said what you said.”

“You misinterpreted what I said.” He grabbed a bigger handful of suds. With a quick twist of his wrist, he got her hair.

“Hey!” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t mess up my hair!”

“You weren’t worried about my nose.”

“Okay. Fine. If that’s how you want it, this is war!”

“Ha! You think you can beat me! I know every corner of this kitchen. And my sister Charlotte and I were very adept at avoiding our other sisters when we were younger.” He filled an available cup with water and darted around the table, behind a chair. “Bring it.”

“You wouldn’t throw an entire cup of water at me!”

“Guess again.”

“And who’s going to clean up the mess?”

He shrugged. “Us. When we’re done with our war.”

Her face contorted. “Why throw the water when you end up having to clean it up?”

“For the fun of the war.” He walked from behind the table. “You really didn’t have much of a childhood.”

She shrugged. “Looks like I didn’t.”

“Great.” He dribbled some water on her head.

Expecting his sympathy and getting a shower, she jumped back sputtering. “What are you doing!”

“We’re at war, remember? If I were you, I’d get a cup.”

Her eyes narrowed, but he only grinned. Knowing he wouldn’t stay passive long, she raced to the sink and got a cup of water, but she paused. “This is ridiculous.”

She watched his face sort of deflate. Cup in hand, he walked to the sink, clearly disappointed that he’d failed in getting her to play. When he was close enough, she sloshed the water out of her cup and onto his shirt.

He gasped and jumped back. “You tricked me.”

She refilled her cup and scampered away. “All is fair in love and war.”

“Oh, this is so on.”

She ran to the kitchen island, shielding herself behind it and the rows of pots that hung above it.

“You have to come out sometime.”

“Not really. I think I can safely protect myself behind this island for the rest of the war.”

She bounced out for one quick slosh toward him, the way an Old West gunfighter bounces from behind a tree just long enough to shoot, then was back behind her island again.

He bent away from the spray. “You missed me.”

“I’ll get you next time.”

He nudged his chin in the direction of her cup. “Not without water.” He glanced around. “Let’s see. I have a whole cup of water and I stand between you and the sink.” He smiled evilly. “Who’s winning now?”

She said, “Eek!” and dodged to the right.

When she got to the open space in the overhead pots, he flung his water at her and got her on the chest, soaking her T-shirt.

She glanced down at it in amazement. Then up at him. Then burst out laughing. “All right. One of us has to call a truce.”

He walked to the sink. Refilled his cup. Displayed it for her to see. “Or one of us has to surrender.”

“Okay. Now you’re just being childish.”

“And throwing cups of water wasn’t? We’re just having fun…and I think you’re trying to talk your way out of losing the war.”

“I’m trying to talk us back to adulthood.”

“Why?” He glanced around. “No one’s here. No one cares.”

But she cared. When he behaved like a silly, fun guy, strange feelings of warmth and happiness danced through her. And fantasies began to spin in her head. She’d never wanted a stuffy, formal family. She wanted a happy family. With a happy dad. And right now he was behaving as if he could be one.

But he couldn’t. He was Wall Street’s Iceman. This little thing they were doing with the water had to be an aberration.

She raised her hands in surrender. “All right. I surrender.”

A look of disappointment flitted across his face, but he didn’t put his cup down. Like the town sheriff arresting the bad guy, he brandished it like a gun. “Walk your cup to the sink.”

She laughed. “This is ridiculous.”

“No, this is how a smart man ends a war, especially when his opponent has already duped him once.”

She giggled. “Really? Seriously? I have to walk my cup to the sink.”

“And dump out the contents.”

As she ambled to the sink, he edged around, so he could see her every move.

She laughed again.

“Now dump it out.”

She poured the remaining water from her cup into the empty sink.

“And put the cup into the dishwater in the other sink.”

Pressing her lips together to stop another giggle, she put the cup in the water.

“Now step away from the sink.”

“You really get into this role playing, don’t you?”

“Charlotte and I rarely lost a water battle.”

“Sounds like your childhood was fun.”

He said, “It was. But I’m still watching you. Put both hands up and step away from the sink.”

This time she let the gale of laughter roll out of her. She walked far enough away from the sink to appease him. “That was fun. That was really fun.”

Watching her warily, he set his cup on the sink. “Yeah, it was.”

She glanced down at herself. “Except I’m soaked.”

Following the line of her vision, he saw that her sodden T-shirt had molded to her, outlining her perfect breasts. The wonderful feeling of joy enveloping them suddenly shifted. It was clear she’d never had an ounce of fun as a kid and something inside him wanted to show her all of that. Show her how to have fun.

Him. The Iceman. He wanted to show somebody how to have fun.

He hadn’t thought about fun in twenty years.

Yet she made him want to have fun again.

And if that wasn’t confusing enough, looking at her, dripping wet and incredibly sexy, his definition of fun had morphed from water battles to adult games in his amazing shower. He wanted to make love but not in a serious, purely physical way. In a fun, joyful way.

He stepped back, cleared his throat. “You are wet. Why don’t you go upstairs first and get a shower? I’ll be up in a minute.”

She smiled like a happy child. “Yeah. Guess I should.”

She turned without another thought for the dishes or cleaning up the water they’d tossed at each other. But as Matt grabbed a mop—from a closet he found after searching around awhile—he told himself he didn’t mind cleaning up after their water battle.

He needed to be away from her for a few minutes. Not only had she awakened urges in him he hadn’t felt…well, ever. But also, water fighting with her reminded him of happier times. Magnificently simple times when he’d thought his sisters were his sisters. When there were no half anythings. And everybody loved a good water battle in the pool, the ocean or the bathroom.

He grinned stupidly. They were bad kids, but he’d loved that part of his childhood.

His grin faded. He missed his sisters. Not the adult versions, but the kids he used to play with.

A great ache filled his chest.

He missed being happy.

But when he finished cleaning the kitchen he went to his room and absently ambled into the bathroom; he forgot he had a guest. He found Claire brushing her teeth in front of one of the bowls of his double-bowl sinks and his thoughts swung back in the other direction.

In her pretty pink pajamas, with her little pink toes sticking out and her big brown eyes still shining with laughter, she was the epitome of that perfect mom he’d suspected she’d be. Happy. Filled with joy. Waiting for her husband to come to bed. So they could—

He jumped back. Not out of embarrassment that he’d walked in on her in the bathroom. But because that vision scared him. After Ginny, he always pictured himself alone—believed he deserved to be alone. Now in a few days one little slip of a woman had him thinking about family, kids, fun…and sex filled with emotion. Not just physical pleasure, but physical pleasure wrapped in a blanket of happiness.

This woman scared him.

“I’ll just go back out and wait until you’re finished.”

She spit in the sink. That alone should have had him running. Instead, it felt very natural, very normal.

“No. No. I’m just about done. You can come in.”

He hesitated, then walked in. This was ridiculous. How could one person change what you felt about everything? In four days? From Monday to Thursday? And could he really count Monday, since he hadn’t gotten to Dysart Adoptions until after four? It was ridiculous.