The Ceo's Nanny Affair

His business life was ridiculously busy and consistently stressful, and he was only able to do what he did because he didn’t have to worry about Shaw. His home life ran like clockwork: he took Shaw to pre-K, Jo picked him up and spent the afternoon and early evening with him, feeding and bathing him if he was running late. It worked so damn well because he trusted his mom implicitly, and he never worried about his son’s emotional and physical welfare. She was irreplaceable.

“I’ve been looking after kids for so long.” Jo shrugged, lifting delicate shoulders. “I’m nearly sixty, Linc. I want to have some fun, take a break, travel. Have a glass of wine at lunchtime if I feel like it. I’m tired, Linc. Can you understand that?”

Linc stood up and walked to the window, conscious of his accelerated heartbeat and his constricted throat. He hated change, especially in his personal life, and now she’d thrown him for a total loop. Keep calm and think it through. As a father of a mischievous four-year-old and as the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, keeping his head while everyone else was losing theirs was how he navigated his life.

He’d had a lot of practice at being the calm port everyone ran to in a storm. When he was eleven, Jo had secured the position to be Connor Ballantyne’s housekeeper and to help him look after his orphaned nephews and niece. His mom told Linc to keep out of the Ballantynes’ ways, but Connor, with his huge heart and lack of snobbery, insisted that if they were going to live in The Den, then they had to live in The Den. They all ate and played together, and Linc attended the same expensive school as Jaeger and Beck. He read in the library, slid down the banister and peppered the magnificent chandelier in the foyer with spitballs.

To his utter surprise and delight, Connor embraced Linc’s presence at The Den, and he never once felt like a third wheel. Maybe that was because Jaeger, Beck and Sage latched onto him, and though he’d been a kid himself, a little less than a year older than Jaeger, he somehow became the person they’d gravitated to. For more than a quarter of a century, he’d been the glue holding the Ballantynes together, and while Beck helped him run Ballantyne International and all four of them held equal shares in the company, he was—despite the fact that he was not a Ballantyne by blood—the leader of the pack.

Linc didn’t mind. When he formally adopted the four of them when Linc turned sixteen, Connor made it clear that Linc was the oldest child, that he expected him to look after his siblings, to look after the company, to do him proud.

He had no intention of disappointing the only father he’d ever really known. But Shaw’s welfare was his first priority, always. How could he place his son’s care in the hands of a stranger? How was he supposed to run this company, nurture and grow it, if he was worried about whether his son was receiving the same attention at home?

Linc opened his mouth to throw himself at her mercy and ask for a time extension but then immediately snapped it shut. As much as he hated change, he couldn’t put his needs above Jo’s. Especially since she’d dedicated the past thirty-five years putting him first.

Crap. Having integrity sucked.

He turned and forced himself to smile. “So, what do you suggest I do?”

Linc saw the shock and relief in her eyes, ashamed to realize that she’d expected him to argue. “You need a live-in nanny.”

Ack. A stranger in his house, looking after his kid. Shoot him now.

“I’ll contact the most reputable agencies and select a few for you to interview,” Jo said before lifting her eyebrows. “Or do you want to do this yourself?”

Linc shuddered. “No, thanks. I’d rather shower with acid.”

His mom cocked her head. “You know what you need, don’t you? More than a nanny?”

Sex? A decent night’s sleep? A skiing vacation with lots of sex and lots of sleep?

“You need a wife,” Jo empathetically stated.

Linc shot her a glare. He so didn’t. Once upon a time he’d nearly acquired one of those and lost her two weeks before they were supposed to say “I do.” For the past four years he’d managed perfectly well without a wife. But he’d had Jo’s help... Dammit.

“I’ve heard all the reasons why you’re not interested, Linc. Women are fickle, untrustworthy, they just want your money or the Ballantyne name. Et cetera...et cetera.”

“Mom.” Linc closed his eyes, looking through the glass wall in Amy’s direction. He had a full day ahead, multibillion-dollar decisions to make, and he did not need to talk about his crappy love life. Amy, as she often did, suddenly lifted her head and met his eyes.

“Help me,” he mouthed.

“Amy’s not going to bail you out,” Jo said, not bothering to turn around to look at his assistant. “Besides, she and I agree that you need someone in your life.”

“Like I need a needle in my eye,” Linc muttered, mouthing “You’re fired” at Amy. His assistant just grinned and turned back to her monitor.

“You need someone to challenge you, to make you laugh, to make you think. Someone interesting and independent and smart,” his mom insisted.

Why were they even discussing this? Thanks to his ex-fiancée, Kari, he was now determined not to risk his heart, and especially not his son’s, on another woman. They were fine on their own. They had to be because there wasn’t a woman alive who was worth taking a chance on. He’d learned that lesson well. “Mom, I have work to do. I don’t have time to dissect my love life or my relationship with my crazy ex.”

Jo stood up and pushed a finger into his chest. “You need to start dating again.”

Linc shuddered. Hell to the no. Time to move on. And he could only do that if he deflected the conversation onto one of his siblings. “Talking about relationships, Cady is in Beck’s office, right now.”

Jo’s eyes immediately brightened with curiosity. “Cady? Is she back?”

Linc put a hand on her shoulder and gently directed her to the door. “Amy will explain it to you. I need to get back to work.”

Jo glared at him as he reached around her to open the door. “You just don’t want to discuss your love life anymore.”

“I don’t have a love life,” Linc corrected, bending down to kiss her cheek. “And I like it that way.”

Jo tossed another hot look his way before addressing Amy. “He needs to date.”

“I know,” Amy answered without missing a beat, her fingers dancing over her keyboard. “I’m working on it.”

“You’re working on nothing,” Linc retorted, “because I freakin’ fired you!”

Amy rolled her eyes at Jo, who smiled.

“You’re delusional, Linc. We all know that Connor left me in charge. Hold that thought,” Amy told him, before answering a call. She listened for a minute before lifting suddenly serious eyes to meet Linc’s.

“It’s Tate Harper and she needs to speak to you. It’s private and, in her words, it’s pretty damn urgent.”

* * *

Linc glanced at his Rolex and glared at the imposing front door of The Den, his brownstone just off Park Avenue that had been in the Ballantyne family more than a century. In the four years since Kari bolted—taking two of his credit cards and her flawless yellow diamond engagement ring with her—he’d had precisely zero contact with the Harper family. He knew that Kari had been adopted by her aunt and had a cousin she’d been raised with, but she had hardly spoken about them.

They certainly hadn’t been invited to their wedding, and, at the time, Linc had thought that there was bad blood between them. Now he knew that Kari hadn’t bothered with wedding invitations because she’d never intended to marry him. He would’ve saved himself a bundle in both time and money if the damned woman had let him in on that little secret.

He once thought that she wanted what he did; a home, a family, a traditional family life together, but Kari had run from the life he’d offered her. Most shocking of all, she’d also relinquished all parental rights to Shaw. When she did that he assumed that all connections to Kari and her family were permanently severed, so he couldn’t understand why Tate needed to see him.

And why he’d ever agreed to meet with her was equally confounding. But he’d heard something in her voice, a note of panic and deep, deep sorrow. Maybe something had happened to Kari, and, if so, he needed to know what. She was still Shaw’s mother, after all.

Linc heard the light rap on the door and sucked in a breath.

The first thought he had when he opened his front door to Tate Harper and raked his eyes over her was that he wanted her. Under him, on top of him, up against the nearest wall...anyway he could have her, he’d take her. That thought was immediately followed by, Oh, crap, not again.

Kari had been a stunning woman, but her beauty, as he knew—and paid for—had taken work. But the woman standing behind the stroller was effortlessly gorgeous. Her hair was a riot of blond and brown, eyes the color of his favorite whiskey under arched eyebrows and her skin, makeup-free, was flawless. This Harper’s beauty was all natural and, dammit, so much more potent. Linc, his hand on the doorknob, took a moment to draw in some much-needed air.

He scanned her face again, unable to stop drinking in her dazzling beauty. The rational part of his brain wanted him to tell Tate Harper that he had nothing to say to her, no help to offer and that he and Shaw did not need the aggravation dealing with a Harper almost always caused.

The rest of him, led by his very neglected libido—he was a super busy single dad who rarely had time to chase tail—wanted to start stripping off her clothes to unveil what he assumed was a very delectable body.

“Tate? Come on in.”

She pushed the stroller into the hall, holding the bar with a white-knuckle grip. Linc, wincing at the realization that he was allowing a whole bunch of trouble to walk through his front door, was about to rescind his invitation for her to step into his home and his life. Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes and gauged her terror, her complete and utter dismay, and her-what-the-hell-did-I-do-to-deserve-this expression.

She’d jumped into the ring with Kari and had the crap kicked out of her, Linc realized. And, for some reason, she thought he could help her clean up the mess. And, because his first instinct was to protect, to make things right, he wanted to wipe the fear from Tate’s eyes.