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

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll be busy here.”

As Livie pulled him out of the boutique, the personal shopper returned, seeming so chipper that it almost scared Melanie.

“Are you ready?” the woman asked.

Melanie wasn’t sure if she liked this or not. “For what?”

The other woman laughed, almost sounding like one of those twittering birds who’d created Cinderella’s dress in the Disney movie.

“You’ve got a makeover waiting for you, ma’am.”

Melanie’s pulse leaped before she tamed it.

A…makeover?

She glanced in the mirror again, and instead of seeing the present, she thought back to a girl who used to wear drab dresses, the young woman who’d worked hard to get where she was today.

A makeover.

How could she refuse?

Chapter Six

When Melanie called Zane’s cell to tell him that her makeover appointment was done, he made sure Monty had all the toys Livie had purchased in hand.

Then, since Livie begged to go with Monty to the parked car where she could begin to tear into her new toys, Zane let her escape the tedium of the department store and headed there alone so he could settle the bill while their packages were carried to the valet station.

Hopefully, he thought after rapidly taking care of money matters and boarding the Up escalator, this shopping trip and makeover would improve Melanie’s mood. If so, he would look forward to getting back to the townhouse with a more chipper nanny, then prepare to say goodbye to her and his daughter in the morning.

A niggle got to him, but he didn’t pay any mind to it.

Yup, they’d be gone tomorrow, and life would go back to normal.

He came to the personal shopper’s boutique, where Melanie had evidently gone to put on one of her new outfits with the sales associate’s encouragement. When he got there, a few women were in front of the mirror, flittering about and doing what women often did over new clothes.

Zane had just opened his mouth to ask if his employee was set to leave when the women parted to reveal the nanny in the midst of them.

The words lodged in his chest, then began pumping like a conflicting heartbeat.

Melanie?

Her blond hair was swept back into a graceful chignon, which complemented the slim lines of a short jacket and long cigarette skirt worthy of Jackie O. Her makeup was elegant, bringing out the breathtaking blue of her eyes and the lovely heart shape of her face.

She fit the role of a princess, not a nanny, and for a taboo instant, he envisioned her on his arm at a charity event, shining like the brightest of stars.

Seconds must’ve passed. Maybe even minutes. And during each escalating heartbeat, he kept himself from saying something he would regret to this new woman, even if, under the makeup and clothing, she was still the same lady who’d hooked his attention that first day.

She just had an extra sparkle in her eyes, and that was what took his breath away.

She was staring right back at him with something that resembled hope as she folded her hands in front of her—a nervous gesture he was just starting to recognize.

Melanie, he thought. Not “the nanny.”

Not now.

“You…” He trailed off.

Surely he could find a comment somewhere in his brain. Any comment. Zane Foley was the last man on earth who should’ve been searching for words.

A couple of the sales associates laughed softly, and heat crept up Zane’s neck.

He pushed his hands into his suit pockets as he addressed his employee. “Looks as if you’re ready.”

His back-to-business tone seemed to bring Melanie—no, it had to remain “the nanny”—back to reality, too. But as she nodded at him, then thanked the women around her, he could tell that she’d lost the glimmer that had made her more beautiful than ever, and he hated that he’d done this to her.

But what was new?

He turned to leave, getting the hell out of there, and she caught up just as they were crossing the marble floors and coming to the baby grand piano near the escalators. The musician was playing that song from Casablanca.

He hoped she didn’t notice.

“But,” she said, “I didn’t tip them yet.”

“It’s taken care of.”

Without looking at her, he motioned for her to climb aboard the Down escalator before him.

Cold, he thought. Didn’t he have it within himself to be more than that?

She got on the conveyance, turning around to face him while holding the moving handrail. “But shouldn’t I—?”

“It was my treat. Besides, I know the owners and my credit’s good with them.”

“Oh.” She patted the side of her hairdo, as if not knowing what else to do. “Of course you know them. You probably know every top tax-bracket entrepreneur in the country.”

“I know them because I helped develop this center, among others that Westenra’s also uses.”

At the news, she went silent, as if he’d intentionally reminded her of his station in life and hers—and the chasm between them.

But he hadn’t meant to.

Even so, the sudden space between them bothered Zane. God knew why, because it wasn’t as if they would ever be close.

They got off the escalator and moved through the men’s shoe department toward the exit where Monty would be waiting. Zane couldn’t help noticing that the suit-and-tie salesmen were watching Melanie Grandy, and he wanted to take her arm and link it through his in a show of…

He stopped himself before he used the word “possession.”

Not him. Not for her.