Billionaire's Jet Set Babies & The Nanny Bombshell: Billionaire's Jet Set Babies / The Nanny Bombshell

“And you’re saying that your gut spoke up quickly.”

“Afraid so,” he said shortly, hoping to end an awkward situation with his best boardroom bite. A suspicion niggled. “Why is it you’re here cleaning today instead of someone from my regular company?”

“They subcontracted A-1 when they overbooked. Obviously I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to impress you.” She stood tall and undaunted in spite of his rejection.

Spunky and hot. Dangerous combo.

He fished his phone from his suit coat again. “I really do need to start making some calls.”

“Don’t let me keep you.” She dipped her hand into the diaper bag and pulled out two rice cakes. She passed one to Owen and the other to Olivia. All the while Owen tugged at her hair, watching the way the white-blond strands glittered in the light. “That should keep them quiet while you talk.”

Interesting that Alexa never once winced, even when Owen’s fingers tangled and tugged. Not that he could blame his son in the least.

Seth thumbed the numbers on his phone and started with placing a call to his ex-wife—that again went straight to voice mail. Damn it. He then moved on to dialing family members.

Five frustrating conversations later, he’d come up empty on all counts. Either his kids were hellions and no one wanted to watch them, or he was having a serious run of bad luck.

Although their excuses were rock solid. His cousin Paige was on lockdown since her two daughters had strep throat. His cousin Vic had announced his wife was in labor with child number three—which meant her sisters were watching her other two kids, in addition to their own. But damn it, he’d needed to take off five minutes ago.

Brooding, he watched Alexa jostle Owen on her shapely hip. She was obviously a natural with kids. She wasn’t easily intimidated, important when dealing with his strong-willed offspring. She’d protected the kids when she found them alone on the plane. He’d seen proof of her determination and work ethic. An idea formed in his head, and as much as he questioned the wisdom of it, the notion still took root.

In spite of what he’d told her, he had read more of her proposal than the cover letter, enough to know something about her. He was interested in her entrepreneurial spirit—she’d done a solid job revitalizing a company that had virtually been on financial life support. Still, his gut told him he couldn’t afford to take a risk on this part of his business, especially not now. Now that he was expanding, he needed to hire a larger, more established cleaning chain, even if it cost him extra.

But he needed a nanny and she’d passed the high-level background check needed to work in an airport. Her life had been investigated more thoroughly than anyone he would get from a babysitting service. Not to mention a babysitting service would send over a total stranger that his kids might hate. At least he’d met this woman, had access to her life story. Most importantly, he saw her natural rapport with the twins. He would be nearby in the hotel at all times—even during meetings—if she had questions about their routine.

She was actually a godsend.

Decision made, he forged ahead. “While I don’t think your company’s the right one to service Jansen Jets, I have a proposal for you.”

“I’m not sure I understand?”

“You fly with me and the kids to St. Augustine, be Owen and Olivia’s nanny for the next twenty-four hours and I’ll let you verbally pitch your agency’s proposal to me again, in detail.” The more he spelled it out, the better the idea sounded. “I’ll give you a few pointers about why my gut spoke up so quickly in case you want to make adjustments for future proposals to other companies. I’ll even pass along your name to possible contacts, damn good contacts. And of course you’ll be paid, a week’s worth of wages for one day’s work.”

Was he taking advantage here? He didn’t think so. He was offering her a business “in” she wouldn’t have otherwise. If her verbal proposal held together, he would mention her business to some of his connections. And yes, give her those tips to help cinch a deal elsewhere. She would land jobs, just not his.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Twenty-four hours of Mary Poppins duty in exchange for a critique and some new contacts?”

“That should be long enough for me to make alternative arrangements.” There’d been a time when twenty-four hours with a woman would be more than enough time to seduce her as well. His eyes roved over Alexa’s curves once more, regretting that he wouldn’t be able to brush up on those skills during this trip.

“And you trust me, a stranger, with your children?” Disdain dripped from her voice.

“Do you think this is the right time to call me a crummy father?” Though he had to appreciate her protective instincts when it came to his children.

“You could just ring up a nanny service.”

“Already thought of that. They wouldn’t get here in time and my kids might not like the person they send. Olivia and Owen have taken to you.” Unable to resist, he tapped the logo just above her breast. Lightly. Briefly. His finger damn near shot out a flame like a Bic lighter. “And I do know who you are. I read enough of your proposal to learn you’ve passed your security check for airport work.”

“Well, tomorrow is usually my day off…” She dusted the logo on her shirt, as if his touch lingered. “You’ll really listen to my pitch and give me tips, mention my company to others?”

“Scout’s honor.” He smiled for the first time all day, seeing victory in sight.

“I want you to know I’m not giving up on persuading you to sign me up for Jansen Jets as well.”

“Fair enough. You’re welcome to try.”

She eyed both the children then looked back to him. He knew when he’d presented an irresistible proposition. Now he just needed to wait for her to see this was a win-win situation.

Although he needed for her to realize that quickly. “I have about two minutes left here,” he pressed. “If your answer’s no, get to it so I can make use of the rest of my time to secure alternative arrangements.” Although God only knew what those might be.

“Okay.” She nodded in agreement although her furrowed brow broadcast a hefty dose of reservation. “You have yourself a deal. I’ll call my partner to let her know so she can cover—”

“Great,” he interrupted. “But do it while you buckle up the kids and yourself. We’re out of here.” He settled Olivia back into her car seat with a quick kiss on her forehead.

Alexa looked up quickly from fastening Owen into his safety seat. “Where’s the pilot?”

He stared into her pale blue eyes and imagined them shifting colors as he made her as hot for him as he was for her. God, it would be damn tough to have this jaw-dropping female working beside him for the next twenty-four hours. But his children were his top priority.

So he simply smiled—and, yes, took a hefty dose of pleasure in seeing her pupils widen with awareness. “The pilot? That would be me.”

Chapter 2

Her stomach dropped and she prayed the Gulfstream III wouldn’t do the same in Seth Jansen’s hands.

Turning off her cell after deleting four missed calls from her mother and leaving a message for her partner, Bethany, Alexa double-checked the safety belts for both children and buckled her own. Watching Seth slide into the pilot’s seat, she reminded herself he owned a charter jet company so of course it made sense he could pilot a plane himself. She’d flown on private aircraft during her entire childhood, trusting plenty of aviators she’d never even met to get her safely from point A to point B. So why was she so nervous with this guy at the helm?

Because he’d thrown her off balance.

Boarding the plane earlier, she’d had such optimism, a solid approach in place and control of her world. In the span of less than ten minutes, Seth Jansen had seized control of not just the plane, but her carefully made plan.

The kind of bargain he’d proposed was so unexpected, outrageous even. But too good an opportunity to pass up. She needed to take a deep breath, relax and focus on learning everything she could about him, to give her an edge in negotiations.

Even knowing he must have his pilot’s license, she wouldn’t have expected someone as wealthy as him willing to fly himself. She’d thought he would have someone else “chauffeuring” while he banged back a few drinks or took a nap. Like her dad would have done during their annual family vacation, a one-week trip that was supposed to make up for all the time they never spent together during the year.

Not that she saw much of either of her parents even then. While on vacation, the nanny had taken her to amusement parks or sightseeing or to the slopes while her father attended to “emergency” business and her mother went to the spa.

Simmering over old memories, Alexa polished the metal seatbelt buckle absently with the hem of her shirt as she watched Seth Jansen complete his preflight routine.

The door to the cockpit had been left open. Seth adjusted the mic on the headset, his mouth moving, although she couldn’t hear him as the engines hummed to life. Smooth as silk, the plane left the hangar, past a row of parked smaller aircraft until he taxied to the end of the runway and stopped.

Nerves pattered up from her stomach to the roots of her hair. The jet engines roared louder, louder still, and yet she could swear she heard Seth’s deep voice calmly blending with the aerial symphony.

Words drifted back…

“Charleston tower… Gulfstream alpha, two, one, prepared… Roger… Ready for takeoff…”

The luxury craft eased forward again, Seth’s hands steady on the yoke and power. Confidence radiated from his every move, so much so she found herself relaxing into the butter-soft leather sofa. Her hands fell to rest on the handle of each car seat, claiming her charges. Her babies, for the next twenty-four hours.

Her heart squeezed with old regrets. Her marriage to Travis had been an unquestionable failure. While part of her was relieved there hadn’t been children hurt by their breakup, another part of her grieved for the babies that might have been.

The nose of the plane lifted as the aircraft swooped upward. Olivia and Owen squirmed in their seats. Alexa reached for the diaper bag, panic stirring. Did they want a bottle? A toy? And if they needed a diaper change there wasn’t a thing she could do about that for a while. Just when the panic started to squeeze her chest, the noise of the engines and the pacifiers she’d used to help their ears soothed them back into their unfinished nap.

The diaper bag slid from her grip, thudding on the floor. Relaxing, she stared across the aisle out the window as they left Charleston behind. She also left behind an empty apartment and a silent phone since her married friends had dropped away after her divorce.

Church steeples and spires dotted the ocean-locked landscape. So many, the historic town had earned nicknames of the Holy City and the City by the Sea. After their financial meltdown, her parents had relocated to a condo in Boca Raton to start over—away from the gossip.

How ironic that her parents’ initial reservations about Travis had been so very far off base. They’d begged him to sign a prenuptial agreement. She’d told them to take their prenup and go to hell. Travis had insisted he didn’t care and signed the papers anyway. She thought she’d found her dream man, finally someone who would love her for herself.

Not that the contract had mattered in the end since her father had blown through the whole fortune anyway. By the time they’d broken up, her ex hadn’t wanted anything to do with her, her messy family dysfunction, or what he called her germaphobic ways.

The way Travis had simply fallen out of love with her had kicked the hell out of her self-esteem there for a while. She couldn’t even blame the breakup on another woman. No way in hell was she going to let a man have control of her heart or her life ever again.

All the more reason she had to make a go of her cleaning business and establish her independence. She had no other marketable skills, apart from a host of bills and a life to rebuild in her beloved hometown.

So here she was, on a plane bound for St. Augustine with a stranger and two heart-tuggingly adorable babies. The coastline looked miniscule now outside the window as they reached their cruising altitude.

“Hey, Alexa?”

Seth’s voice pulled her attention away from the view. He stood in the archway between the cockpit and the seating area.

Her stomach jolted again. “Shouldn’t you be flying the plane?”

“It’s on autopilot for the moment. Since the kids are sleeping, I want you to come up front. The flight isn’t long, but it will give us the chance to talk through some specifics about your time with the twins.”

She saw the flinty edge of calculation in his jewel-toned eyes. He may have offered her a deal back at the airport, but now he intended to interview her further before he turned over his children to her. A flicker of admiration lit through the disdain she had felt for him earlier.

Giving each baby another quick check and finding them snoozing away, binkies half in, half out of their slack mouths, she unbuckled, reassured she could safely leave them for a few minutes. She walked the short distance to Seth and stopped in the archway, waiting for him to move back to the pilot’s seat.

Still, he stood immobile and aloof, other than those glinting green eyes that swept over her face. The crisp scent of him rode the recycled air to tempt her nose, swirling deeper inside her with each breath. Her breasts tingled with awareness, her body overcome with the urge to lean into him, press the aching fullness of her chest against the hard wall of manly muscles.

She shivered. He smiled arrogantly as if completely cognizant of just how much he affected her on a physical level. Seth stepped back brusquely, returning to the pilot’s spot on the left and waving her into the copilot’s seat on the right.

Strapping in, she stared at the gauges around her, the yoke moving automatically in front of her. Seth tapped buttons along the control panel and resumed flying the plane. Still, the steering in front of her mirrored his movements until she felt connected to him in some mystical manner.

She resented the way he sent her hormones into overdrive with just the sound of his husky voice or the intensity of his sharp gaze. She was here to do a job, damn it, not bring a man into her already too complicated life.

Twisting her fingers together in her lap, she forced her thoughts back to their jobs. “What’s so important about this particular meeting that it can’t be rescheduled?”

“I have small mouths to feed. Responsibilities.” He stayed steadily busy as he talked, his eyes roving the gauges, his hands adjusting the yoke. “Surely you understand that, and if not, then I don’t even need to read your proposal.” He winked.

“Thank you for the Business 101 lecture, Mr. Jansen.” She brushed specks of dust from a gauge. “I was really just trying to make conversation, but if you’re more comfortable hanging out here alone, I’ll be glad to return to the back.”

“Sorry… And call me Seth,” he said with what sounded like genuine contrition. “Long day. Too many surprises.”

She glanced back at the sleeping babies, suddenly realizing they had miniature versions of his strong chin. “I can see that. What do you do to relax?”

“Fly.”

He stared out at the expanse of blue sky and puffy clouds, and she couldn’t miss the buzz radiating from him. Jansen Jets wasn’t just a company to him. He’d turned his hobby, his true love, into a financial success. Not many could accomplish such a feat. Maybe she could learn something about business from him after all.

“You were looking forward to this time in the air, weren’t you? What should have been your relaxing hour for the day has become a stressor.”

“I’ve gotta ask…” He looked over at her quickly, brow furrowed. “Is the psychoanalysis included in the cleanup fee?”

She winced as his words hit a little too close to a truth of her own. Travis used to complain about that same trait. Well, she did have plenty of practice in what a shrink would say after all the time she’d spent in analysis as a teenager. The whole point had been to internalize those healthier ways of thinking. She’d needed the help, no question, but she’d also needed her parents. When they hadn’t heard her, she’d started crying out for their attention in other ways, ways that had almost cost her life.

Her thoughts were definitely getting too deep and dark, and therefore too distracting. Something about this man and his children made her visit places in her mind she normally kept closed off. “Like I said, just making small talk. I thought you wanted me to come up here for conversation, to dig a little deeper into the background of your new, temporary nanny. If you don’t want to chat, simply say so.”

“You’re right. I do. And the first thing I’ve learned is that you don’t back down, which is a very good thing. It takes a strong person to stand up to the twins when they’re in a bad mood.” He shuddered melodramatically, his complaint totally undercut by the pride in his voice. Mr. Button-Up Businessman loosened up a little when he spoke of his kids. “What made you trade in your white gloves at tea for white glove cleaning?”

So he knew a little about her privileged upbringing as well. “You did more than just read my cover letter.”

“I recognized your name—or rather your return to your maiden name. Your father was once a client of a competing company. Your husband chartered one of my planes.”

“My ex-husband,” she snapped.

He nodded, his fingers whitening as his grip tightened on the yoke. “So, back to my original question. What made you reach for the vacuum cleaner?”

“Comes with the business.”

“Why choose this particular line of work?”

Because she didn’t have a super cool hobby like he did? She’d suffered a rude awakening after her divorce was finalized a year ago, and she realized she had no money and no marketable skills.

Her one negligible talent? Being a neat-freak with a need to control her environment. Pair that with insights into the lifestyles of the rich and spoiled and she’d fashioned a career. But that answer sounded too half-baked and not particularly professional.

“Because I understand the needs of the customer, beyond just a clean space, I know the unique services that make the job stand out.” True enough, and since he seemed to be listening, she continued, “Keeping records of allergies, favored scents, personal preferences for the drink bar can make the difference between a successful flight and a disaster. Flying in a charter jet isn’t simply an air taxi service. It’s a luxury experience and should be treated as such.”

“You understand the world since you lived in it.”

Lived. Past tense. “I want to be successful on my own merits rather than mooch off the family coffers.”

Or at least she liked to think she would have felt that way if there had been any lucre left in the Randall portfolio.

“Why work in this particular realm, the aircraft world?” He gestured around the jet with a broad hand.

Her eyes snagged on the sprinkling of fair hair along his forearm. Tanned skin contrasted with the white cuffs of his rolled up sleeves and wow did her fingertips ever itch to touch him. To see if his bronzed-god flesh still carried the warmth of the sun.

It had been so long since she’d felt these urges. Her divorce had left her emotionally gutted. She’d tried dating a couple of times, but the chemistry hadn’t been there. Her new business venture consumed her. Or rather, it had until right now, when it mattered most.

“I’m missing your point.” No surprise since she was staring at his arm like an idiot.

“You’re a…what…history major?”

“Art history, and being that close means you read my bio. You do know a lot more about me than you let on at first.”

“Of course I do or I never would have asked you to watch my children. They’re far more precious to me than any plane.” His eyes went hard, leaving no room for doubt. Any mistakes with his son and daughter would not be tolerated. Then he looked back at the sky, mellow Seth returning. “Why not manage a gallery if you need to fill your hours?”

Because she would be lucky if working in a gallery would cover rent on an apartment or a lease on an economy car, much less food and economic stability. Because she wanted to prove she didn’t need a man to be successful. And most importantly, because she didn’t ever again want the freaked out feeling of being less than six hundred dollars away from bankruptcy.

Okay, sort of melodramatic since she’d still owned jewelry she could hock. But still scary as hell when she’d sold off her house and car only to find it barely covered the existing loans.

“I do not expect anyone to support me, and given the current economy, jobs in the arts aren’t exactly filling up the want ad sections. Bethany has experience in the business, while I bring new contacts to the table. We’re a good team. Besides, I really do enjoy this work, strange as that may seem. While A-1 has employees who handle cleaning most of the time, I pitch in if someone’s out sick or we get the call for a special job. I enjoy the break from office work.”

“Okay, I believe you. So you used to like art history, and now you enjoy feeding people’s Evian habits and their need for clean armrests.”

The deepening sarcasm in his voice had her spine starching with irritation. “Are you making fun of me for the hell of it or is there a purpose behind this line of questioning?”

“I always have a purpose,” he said as smoothly as he flew the plane. “Will your whim of the week pass, once you realize people take these services for granted and your work is not appreciated? What happens to my aircraft then? I’ll be stuck wading through that stack of proposals all over again.”

He really saw her as a flighty, spoiled individual and that stung. It wasn’t particularly fair, either. “Do you keep flying even when people don’t appreciate a smooth or on-time flight, when they only gripe about the late or bumpy rides?”

“I’m not following your point here. I like to fly. Are you saying you like to clean?”

“I like to restore order,” she answered simply, truthfully.

The shrinks she’d seen as a teen had helped her rechannel the need for perfection her mother had drilled into Alexa from birth. She’d stopped starving herself, eased off searching the art world for flawless beauty and now took comfort from order, from peace.

“Ah—” a smile spread over his face “—you like control. Now that I understand.”

“Who doesn’t like control?” And how many therapy sessions had she spent on that topic?

He looked over at her with an emerald-eyed sexy stare. The air crackled as if a lightning bolt had zipped between them. “Would you like to take over flying the plane?”

“Are you kidding?” She slid her hands under her thighs even though she couldn’t deny to herself just how tempting the offer sounded.

Who wouldn’t want to take a stab at soaring through the air, just her and the wide-open blue rolling out in front of the plane? It would be like driving a car alone for the first time. Pushing an exotic Arabian racehorse to gallop. Happier memories from another lifetime called to her.

“Just take the yoke.”

God, how she wanted to, but there was something in his voice that gave her pause. She couldn’t quite figure out his game. She wasn’t in the position to risk her livelihood or her newfound independence on some guy’s whims.

“Your children are on board.” She knew she sounded prim, but then hey, she was a nanny for the day.

“If it appears you’re about to send us into a nosedive, I’ll take over.”

“Maybe another time.” She leaped up from the seat, not about to get sucked into a false sense of control that wouldn’t last. “I think I hear Olivia.”