The Billionaire's Nanny

She unbuckled her seat belt. He did the same. “Don’t feel bad. Libby warned me you didn’t like flying. I’m assuming she spoke with Camille about adding airsickness bags to the seats.”

“I appreciate Libby’s foresight. She’s a good friend who knows me well. I’ll do my best to fill her shoes. In spite of the past few minutes, I’m up to the task.” Emma stood. She placed the strap of her large purse over her shoulder and held on to the barf bag. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

AJ jumped to his feet. She walked past him toward the front of the plane. His gaze followed, zeroing in on the sway of her hips and the purse bouncing against her thigh. Nice. Feminine. Sexy.

Whoa. What was he thinking? He didn’t want anything to do with Emma except to comfort and reassure her. He considered employees assets, efficient resources, not playthings. Besides, she reminded him of the girls back in Haley’s Bay, rather than the glamorous women he dated in Seattle, San Francisco or wherever else he might be working. The next-door neighbor types weren’t the kind of women he was attracted to now. Not that he found Emma...okay, he found her attractive, which surprised him.

With a towel in hand, Camille stood next to his seat. “Emma said she was sick.”

“Yes, but remarkably neat about it.”

Camille checked the seat and floor anyway. “Libby was right.”

“She usually is.” He glanced toward the front of the plane. “Make sure Emma is okay.”

“Of course.”

The cat screeched.

Camille shook her head. “Not your typical uneventful flight.”

“No.”

Things might not be uneventful until AJ was back home in Seattle. Five days. Five days until his visit would be over. Five days until he would say goodbye to Haley’s Bay for another decade. He couldn’t wait.

* * *

Emma couldn’t wait to get off this airplane. Hitting rock bottom less than fifteen minutes after meeting a new boss had to be a record. But at least things couldn’t get worse.

Unless the plane crashed.

She returned her toothbrush to her toiletry bag. Given her luck so far this morning, that was a distinct possibility. But the odds against crashing after throwing up had to be astronomical, right?

Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she tucked stray strands back into her braid. Her Goth-white complexion had disappeared. Good. She would rather look human than like a vampire wannabe.

She pinched her cheeks to give them more color. Reapplying the makeup she’d wiped off was beyond her. But she looked better, passable, no longer green.

She straightened her glasses, wanting to present a confident, unflappable air. Mr. Cole never needed to know she was dying of embarrassment. Neither did Camille, who kept knocking every minute and a half to see if Emma needed help. She opened the lavatory door.

Blossom’s ear-hurting screeches could wake the dead, officially starting the zombie apocalypse.

Emma followed the racket.

The cat faced forward, screaming her lungs out as if doing her best T. rex impersonation.

Emma knelt in front of the cat carrier. “Shhhh. I know you don’t like this, but we’re almost there.”

Blossom barked, sounding more like an ankle-biting dog than a pissed-off feline.

“Your cat doesn’t sound happy.”

Emma felt AJ’s presence—a potent mix of heat, strength and confidence—behind her. “Blossom doesn’t like to fly, either.”

“You look good as new.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze at crotch level. Lingering on his zipper. Her cheeks burned. No need for pinching cheeks or makeup now. She looked up at him. “I am. Flying doesn’t really get to me. Taking off is the culprit. The weightlessness.”

“Your stomach can’t handle the feeling.”

“Nope.” And the flashbacks nearly did her in each time, but nobody needed to know about those. “The landing will be a breeze. But I’m guessing Blossom won’t quiet down until she’s out of her carrier.”

AJ kneeled. The left side of his body brushed hers, sending sparks shooting across her skin. The scent of his aftershave, something musky with a touch of spice, enveloped her.

She sucked in a breath. Oh, boy. He smelled so good, fresh, like the first spring day after months of dreary winter rain.

He peered into the carrier. “What’s its name again?”

“Blossom. Her name is Blossom.”

He tapped on the carrier. “Be quiet, Blossom.”

“Cat’s don’t respond to—”

The cat stopped meowing. Blossom rubbed her head against the carrier door.

He stuck his finger through the grating and touched the cat. “Don’t respond to what?”

“Logic.”

Blossom, however, didn’t make another noise. She soaked up the attention. Purred. Unbelievable. The cat hadn’t purred at the shelter or at Emma’s apartment. At least not that any of the volunteers had noticed. Yet this guy, a non-cat-lover guy, had the feline purring like a generator. “Blossom likes you.”

“She likes the attention.”

“Attention from you. This is the first time I’ve heard her purr.”

AJ yanked his hand away, plastered his arm against his side. “I’m not a fan of cats. She wouldn’t like me.”

Tell that to Blossom. The cat pressed against the crate door, fur squishing through the grating. She stared up at AJ as if he were her sun, stars and moon.

Thanks to AJ Cole, Blossom had transformed from she devil to sweetheart. Emma grinned, something she never expected to do after getting sick in front of her new boss. “She does like you.”

AJ’s gaze bounced from the cat to Emma. “The cat needed someone to tell her what was expected.”

“Cats do what they want.”

“Perhaps the cat needed to have a higher bar set for its behavior.”

He didn’t use Blossom’s name, but the feline didn’t seem to mind. She was trying to get out of the cage and closer to AJ. “Perhaps. But this gives me hope.”