The Bravos: Family Ties: The Bravo Family Way / Married in Haste / From Here to Paternity

But it wouldn’t be his preschool, she found herself thinking. It would be hers. It would be KinderWay. Yes, taking on a project of this size would be a challenge. She’d have to be careful not to spread herself too thin.

Then again, to grow any business, the boss needed to learn how to delegate. And a lot of kids would benefit from the exceptional program she could provide here….

She let her arms drop to her sides. “We’re getting way ahead of ourselves.”

He looked at her, a long look, one that affected her in dangerous ways. At last he said, “Come on. Meet my daughter.” He took her arm. She felt the touch of his hand all through her, a shudder of awareness that centered down to a warmth deep within.

She didn’t pull away.

Fletcher lived in a penthouse suite on the top floor of Hotel Impresario’s central tower. The elevator let them off in a hallway paneled in a rich dark wood with a striking wood-inlaid stone floor. Overhead, an oval skylight let in the winter sun.

“This way,” Fletcher said.

A set of big double doors led into a private foyer. The foyer widened at the opposite end, opening onto a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows providing sweeping city views.

Fletcher took her hand again and wrapped it over his arm. She was far too conscious of the heat of his strong body so close, of the clean, expensive scent of him, of the hardness of his forearm beneath the fine fabric of his beautifully made suit jacket.

He led her away from the living room, through another opening to their right. They walked down a hallway, past a marble-walled kitchen on one side and an elegant dining room on the other, into a family room with walls upholstered in some warm reddish-brown fabric and comfortable-looking soft sofas and chairs.

A little girl sat cross-legged on the kilim rug in the middle of the room. She wore blue capris with pink piping at the hems and a lime-green T-shirt, also trimmed in pink. On her small feet were pink socks with green appliqués and pink Keds. A book lay open across her knees.

She looked up as they entered and regarded them with shining, oh-so-serious brown eyes. “Hi, Daddy.” She closed her book. “I was reading Livvy The Funny Little Bunny.”

A plump, friendly-looking blond girl rose from an easy chair not far from the child. “Hello, Mr. Bravo. We’ve just been reading a bit before Ashlyn goes down for her nap.”

Fletcher said, “Cleo, this is Olivia, Ashlyn’s nanny.” Cleo and the nanny smiled and nodded at each other.

Ashlyn jumped to her feet and held out her little hand. “And I’m Ashlyn. I’m almost five.”

Cleo took the small fingers in hers. She looked into those big brown eyes and she wanted to pull the child close, to press a kiss to the sleek crown of her head.

She couldn’t help herself. She was captivated by Fletcher’s bright, beautiful, oh-so-serious child. There was something about Ashlyn that reminded Cleo way too much of herself as a child, something in her solemn manner, in those wide, too-wise eyes.

Ashlyn said, still in that grave way of hers, “You’re pretty. And very tall.”

“Why, thank you, Ashlyn.”

“You’re almost as tall as my Daddy, I bet.”

“Just about.”

“You can let go of my hand now.”

“All right.” She released the small, soft fingers.

Ashlyn put both hands behind her back but held her ground, dark head tipped back, those serious eyes scanning Cleo’s down-turned face. “It’s nine days.” She brought her hands front again and held up all her fingers, small face puckered up. Then she bent her right thumb to her palm and turned both hands, backside-first, to Cleo. “Nine.”

“Very good.”

“It’s arithmetic.”

“Yes. What’s nine days?”

“Until my birthday. I’m having a party. Not on my birthday but the Saturday after. There will be clowns and rides and a magic show. A lot of kids are coming.” She seemed to reach a decision. “You can come, too.”

“Why, I …”

“There will be cake.”

“Well, that is tempting.”

“And ice cream.” Fletcher spoke from behind her.

Cleo looked back at him and knew by his carefully composed expression that he was hiding a smile. “Devious,” she muttered.

He said, “Whatever it takes.”

She turned back to the child. And Ashlyn asked, so simply and sweetly, “Will you come to my party?”

Cleo said the first word that popped into her head. It just happened to be, “Yes.”

Fletcher insisted on escorting Cleo to the parking garage and out to her car.

Neither spoke as they got off the elevator they’d taken from his apartment and crossed to the ones that went to the parking garages. They got on an empty car and went down to C level. When the doors slid open, she turned to him.

“It really isn’t necessary for you to—”

“But I want to.” He signaled her to exit ahead of him and then fell in beside her once the elevator door had shut behind them. Their footsteps echoing on concrete, they walked the five rows to her green SUV.

Cleo had her key ready. She pushed the remote lock button. The SUV beeped twice, the sound very loud in the cavernous space.

She made the obligatory polite noises. “Thank you. It was an excellent lunch.”

He moved in closer—too close, really. She saw again the blue that rimmed those pale gray irises. She smelled that tempting aftershave. She might have moved away a step, put a little space between them. But the SUV was at her back.

He said, as if continuing a conversation that had never been interrupted, “So many children here and at High Sierra who can gain so much from what you have to give them …”

Again she tried to remember all the reasons it wouldn’t work to put a KinderWay in his resort. Those reasons seemed meaningless now. “I can’t believe I’m thinking of saying yes to this.”

“Believe it. Say yes.”

“There are … permits and procedures we’d have to—”

“We’ll cross every T in sight, dot every last damn I.”

“I’ll have to hire an entire second staff, start from the bottom up. That will take—”

“It’s manageable. All of it. And it won’t take long. Believe me.”