A Texan For Christmas

Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

One (#u182ef6d3-ad4e-5b4b-b96b-81d89717f4d5)

Scarlett Patterson clutched the handle of her small suitcase and waited.

And waited.

She’d knocked twice on the door, but still no answer. She knew this was the address she’d been given—a small cabin nestled in the back of the sprawling, picturesque Pebblebrook Ranch. She’d been told exactly who she’d be working for and her belly did flips just thinking of Beau Elliott—deemed Hollywood’s Bad Boy, the Maverick of Movies, Cowboy Casanova...the titles were endless.

One thing was certain, if the tabloids were correct—he made no apologies about his affection for women. Scarlett wasn’t sure she’d ever seen an image of him with the same woman.

That is, until his lover turned up pregnant. Then the two were spotted out together, but by then the rumors had begun—of drugs found in his lover’s carry-on, of affairs started...or maybe they’d never stopped.

Why he’d come back home now, to this quiet town in Texas and his family’s sprawling ranch, was none of her concern.

With a hand blocking her eyes from a rare glimpse of winter sun, Scarlett glanced around the open fields. Not a soul in sight. In the distance, a green field dotted with cattle stretched all the way to the horizon. This could easily be a postcard.

The Elliott land was vast. She’d heard there were several homes on the property and a portion of the place would soon become a dude ranch. In fact, this cabin would eventually be housing for guests of said dude ranch.

So why was Beau Elliott staying here instead of one of the main houses, with his brothers? Was he even planning to stick around?

So many mysteries...

But she wasn’t here to inquire about his personal life and she certainly wouldn’t be divulging any extra information about hers.

She was here to help his baby.

Even if that meant she had to come face-to-face with one of the sexiest men on the planet.

The snick of a lock had her turning her attention back around. When the door swung wide, it was all Scarlett could do to hold back her gasp.

Beau Elliott, Hollywood’s baddest boy, stood before her sans shirt and wearing a pair of low-slung shorts. Scrolling ink went up one side of his waist, curling around well-defined pecs and disappearing over his shoulder.

Don’t stare at the tattoos. Don’t stare at the tattoos.

And, whatever you do, don’t reach out to touch one.

“Who are you?”

The gravelly voice startled her back into reality. Scarlett realized she’d been staring.

Beau’s broad frame filled the doorway, his stubbled jaw and bedhead indicating he hadn’t had the best night. Apparently, according to the information she’d received, his last nanny had left last evening because of a family emergency.

Well, Scarlett wasn’t having the best of days, either, so they were at least on a level playing field—other than the whole billionaire-peasant thing.

But she could use the extra money, so caring for an adorable five-month-old baby girl shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Tamping down past hurts that threatened to creep up at the thought of caring for a child, Scarlett squared her shoulders and smiled. “I’m Scarlett Patterson. Your new nanny.”

Beau blinked and gave her body a visual lick. “You’re not old or frumpy,” he growled.

Great. He’d already had some visual image in his head of who she should be. Maggie, the original nanny, was sweet as peach pie, but she could be best described as old and frumpy. Obviously, that was what Hollywood’s Golden Child had thought he would be getting this morning, as well.

Beau Elliott, raised a rancher and then turned star of the screen, was going to be high maintenance. She could already tell.

Why would she expect anything less from someone who appeared to thrive on stardom and power?

Unfortunately, she knew that type all too well. Knew the type and ran like hell to avoid it.

She’d grown up with a man obsessed with money and getting what he wanted. Just when she thought she’d eliminated him from her life, he went on and became the governor. Scarlett was so over the power trip. Her stepfather and her mother weren’t happy with her choices in life and had practically shunned her when they realized they couldn’t control her. Which was fine. She’d rather do life on her own than be controlled...by anybody.

“Not old and frumpy. Is that a compliment or an observation?” She waved her hand to dismiss his answer before he could give her one. “Forget it. My looks and age are irrelevant. I am Maggie’s replacement for the next three weeks.”

“I requested someone like Maggie.”

He still didn’t make any attempt to move or to invite her inside. Even though this was Texas, the morning air chilled her.

Scarlett wasn’t in the mood to deal with whatever hang-ups he had about nannies. Coming here after a year away from nanny duties was difficult enough. If she’d had her way, she would’ve found someone else to take this assignment, but the agency was short staffed.

This job was only for three weeks. Which meant she’d spend Christmas here, but the day after, she’d be heading to her new life in Dallas.

After the New Year, she’d start over fresh.

She could do this.

So why did she already feel the stirrings of a headache?

Oh, right. Because the once-dubbed “Sexiest Man Alive” was clearly used to getting his own way.

A bundle of nerves curled tightly in her belly. He might be sexy, but that didn’t mean she had to put up with his attitude. Maybe he needed to remember that he was in a bind. He’d hired a nanny and Scarlett was it.

“Maggie, and everyone else at Nanny Poppins, is unavailable during the time frame you need.”

Scarlett tried like hell to keep her professional smile in place—she did need this money, and she’d never leave a child without care. Plus, she wouldn’t do a thing to tarnish the reputation of the company she’d worked for over the past several years.

She tipped her head and quirked a brow. “You do still need help, correct?”