The Texas Billionaire's Bride / The Texas Bodyguard's Proposal: The Texas Billionaire's Bride

“I’m not going to fire you.”

She stared at him as he leveled a firm gaze at her.

“Not yet, anyway,” he added.

This man. Dear God, she couldn’t make heads or tails of him. Was he angry because she’d brought Livie here, or not? After all, he’d retreated to his study right after they’d settled in; then they’d gone to bed after saying good-night. No more mention of anything. But she figured she would have to pay the piper when the timing was more convenient for him—like in the morning.

Yet, now she couldn’t predict him at all.

He was as mysterious as whatever he’d put back in that chest by the TV.

“Then I’m glad you’re not going to kick me out of the job,” she said, gathering her guts, standing up for herself and for Livie. “I think I’m good for your daughter.”

“I see that. She looks…happy.” The corners of his mouth seemed to rise for a fleeting moment, then stopped as if his mouth was so unused to the expression that it rejected any change.

“She’s happier,” Melanie said.

She waited for him to react, but he only got that shadowed look in his eyes again, the one she’d seen so many times during her interviews.

What could she do to get rid of it?

“You know what she’d really like?” Melanie asked.

“What?” The shadows were still there.

“If you’d do something with her tomorrow. Even just lunch. Or, if you could spare any more time, she talks about trying some horseback riding. Maybe that’d be an activity you’d both like.”

As if he’d been waiting for something to reject, he said, “Livie’s grandma died from a riding accident. I’d prefer we didn’t go that route.”

Talk about stepping on a mine in a field full of them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She hadn’t come across any family history articles that went so deep beyond rumor and innuendo, and that family feud with the McCords.

“I try to keep most things private, if I can manage,” he said. “Even from the press.”

She thought of Danielle but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to, when it looked as if those shadows were about to wrap around him and drag him into the walls.

“Instead of riding,” she said, “how about an hour in the neighborhood park with us? I saw one about a block away.”

He hesitated, and Melanie stabilized herself.

For Livie.

“She’s missed you,” she added. “This would mean the world to her.”

When he glanced at that chest on the shelf, the tightening of his jaw made her think he was going to refuse the invitation. But then he started to walk away from the object, toward that hallway, as if leaving whatever was in the chest behind.

Or at least putting distance between him and it.

“One o’clock,” he said as he continued toward the hallway, but she wasn’t even sure she’d heard him right. “I have to go into Dallas before that, but I’ll work the rest of the day from here.”

“Did you say—?”

He paused, staring at the ground. “One o’clock.”

Melanie could’ve shot through the roof. “Perfect. I’ll pack a lunch, so don’t worry about eating.”

“You’ll find the cupboards pretty empty around here,” he said, meandering away again, barely looking at her. “Maybe I should leave money, if you don’t mind stopping at the market.”

“I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all.”

She was smiling to beat the band, and he lifted his head, his gaze coming to rest on her mouth.

Then his eyes met hers again, thrashing her with a slam of that awareness she’d been trying so hard to dodge.

But dodge she did, nodding at him and then leaving before he could, walking past the kitchen and back to her bedroom, where she intended to shut the door nice and tight behind her until tomorrow.

He’d meant to get to the park for their Father’s Day date.

He really had.

But Zane had found some accounting errors while reviewing a monthly report he was catching up on, and by the time he’d finished smoothing out the near damage, he’d looked at his watch to see that it was past three o’clock.

Three o’damned clock.

How had that happened?

He wanted to blame anyone but himself: why hadn’t Melanie Grandy called him when he hadn’t shown up at the park?

Yet, he figured the nanny had probably given up on him and hadn’t bothered to even pick up the phone, because he had only confirmed that he was the worst dad in existence.

As his hand fell to his side, he wondered how Livie had taken his absence, but the answer wasn’t hard to come by. She’d had plenty of practice at dealing with disappointment in him before, and he imagined that her opinion hadn’t changed today.

And there it was—the exact reason he’d excused himself from bringing her up in the first place.

He called Monty to pick him up. When Monty arrived he didn’t make any comments. Then again, unlike Melanie Grandy, the driver knew it wasn’t his place to do so.

No, his employee only handed him a box after Zane had settled in the town car’s backseat.

“What’s this?” he asked Monty.

The driver pulled the vehicle away from the valet station in the office building’s parking structure. “Ms. Grandy sent it for you. She said she figured you might need it.”

Steam fogged over him, an equal mix of disliking the position the nanny had put him in and…

God. He remembered last night, when she’d been standing there in her nightie. Even though the sleepwear had been modest, it had shown more leg than he’d ever seen of her.

Long, lean leg. And he’d wanted to go to Melanie Grandy, bend down to curl his fingers around her ankle, then start from there on up, skimming over her toned calf, the soft, damp back of her knee, higher…