A Nanny Under the Mistletoe: A Nanny Under the Mistletoe / Single Father, Surprise Prince!

“I see.”

He couldn’t tell from her carefully neutral tone whether she did or not. Either way there was nothing he could do about that. And what really mattered was his friend’s child.

He looked down at her. “Hello, Morgan. Do you remember me?”

Her blond curls bounced when she shook her head. “Not really.”

“That’s okay,” he said, guilt twisting in his gut. “Welcome to my home.”

“Nice place,” Libby said. Something flashed quickly through her eyes before she continued in a pleasant voice, “The security gates are pretty cool and a twenty-four hour guard who used his key card to escort us to the penthouse on the top floor of the building, in the private elevator, no less, is a nice touch.”

Did he hear sarcasm in her voice? Or was the edge simply a symptom of the awkward situation? Did it matter?

“I’m glad you like it.” He looked at the child. “What did you think, Morgan?”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, looking uncertain as she stepped closer and slid her small fingers into the woman’s hand.

“Are you going to invite us in?” Libby asked.

“Of course.” Mentally he smacked his forehead as he stepped back and opened the door wider.

“Don’t forget your suitcase, Morgan,” Libby cautioned.

The little girl nodded, then took the handle of a princess-pink weekend-size bag and rolled it onto the foyer’s beige marble floor where no princess suitcase had gone before. The woman did the same with a plain black bag. For the first time he thought about the little girl’s things. Surely she had more than would fit into the two pieces of luggage just wheeled in.

Major awkward silence followed that flurry of activity as the three of them stood there. He wasn’t sure what to do next and wished again that the nanny would show up and bail him out. In the meantime he figured that a tour was in order. It’s what he normally did with a first-time female guest. Although nothing about this situation could even remotely be described as normal. And this small female would be a permanent resident, a thought that registered pretty high on his uneasiness meter.

“How about I show you around?” he offered.

“We’d like that,” Libby answered, then looked down. “What do you say, Morgan? Would you like to see your new home?”

Still clutching Libby’s hand, the little girl nodded apprehensively. The solemn look on her pale face said she liked the idea about as much as a double helping of Brussels sprouts.

“Follow me.”

He led them into the living room with its floor-to-ceiling windows that showed the extensive outdoor area. Because the penthouse was on the top floor, he had a private pool and patio with barbecue. “If you want a view of the Las Vegas strip, you’ve come to the right place.”

“I’m sure Morgan is thrilled at the idea of looking at the adult entertainment capital of the world,” Libby said wryly.

“Good point.” Another mental forehead smack.

“Although she’ll like looking at the pretty lights. Right, sweetie?” When Libby smiled at the child the tenderness in her expression was almost palpable.

“It’s pretty high up,” the little girl answered cautiously, keeping her distance from the windows.

Libby looked around the room with its dark wood tables bearing traces of European design. “The couch and chairs are very beautiful, but they look like they’ll show every spot.”

“I haven’t found it to be a problem.” He glanced at the cream-colored furniture with the overstuffed brown pillows, then at the child, the first to set foot in his place. Life as he’d known it was about to change.

Jess led them through the kitchen that included a morning room with a door onto the terrace. The spacious formal dining area held a table for eight, matching buffet and china cabinet. They walked through the large family room, past the leather corner group and plasma TV. After showing them the living room and master bedroom, he walked to the other side of the condo and pointed out Morgan’s bedroom.

“You’ll have a king-size bed and your own bathroom. What do you think?” He glanced at the little girl who was looking back at him as if he’d just beheaded her favorite doll.

“It’s awfully big.” Her mouth trembled. “What if I get lost?”

Instantly Libby went down on one knee and pulled her into a hug. The gesture was completely natural and struck him as incredibly maternal and reassuring. The way a mother should be. The way his mother had been until everything changed.

Libby tucked the child’s hair behind her ears. “It’s scary, I know. Change always is. But in time you’ll get used to it and hardly remember anything else,” she explained.

“What if I wake up and it’s dark and I get scared?”

“I’m sure Mr. Donnelly won’t mind if you leave lights on.” She looked up at him. “Right?”

“Of course.”

She gently brushed her palms up and down Morgan’s arms. “That’s an awfully big bed for a little girl. Probably he’ll get you a smaller one, maybe with a trundle. That’s a bed that slides underneath and pulls out so if you’re afraid at night someone can stay in your room. A new bed means a bedspread and sheets. Maybe the princess ones you like. Then the walls might have to be painted to match. That would be your favorite color and would help you get used to a new place.”

“What’s your favorite color, Morgan?” Jess asked, struggling to find something to say. With the ladies he had no problem, but little girls were out of his league.

“Pink.” She met his gaze and her own was troubled. “Sometimes purple.”

“Lavender,” Libby clarified.

Neither was an earth tone as far as he knew, but no one would accuse him of being the interior design police. Among other things, he built hotels and exclusive resorts, then hired people to decorate them. Exclusively.

“We can talk about altering things,” he said. “But I think it might be best to hold off on any sweeping changes until getting some feedback from a child-care professional.”

“I’m a licensed preschool teacher, Mr. Donnelly. I’ve spent the last few years with kids of all different ages at Nooks and Nannies.” Her full lips compressed into a straight line. “And Morgan has been in my care for quite a few months. I think I’m eminently qualified to express an opinion on her new environment and would be happy to consult with you about what will help her adjust to her new and different surroundings.”

He studied the twin spots of color on her cheeks and the way her blue eyes darkened to navy with this show of spirit. She was standing up for the kid who wasn’t even hers and he wondered suddenly whether or not there was a man in her life. The two thoughts would have been contradictory except for his history.

After his dad died, his mother had elevated him to man-of-the-house status. It was the two of them against the world until she fell in love and remarried, at which time she couldn’t get rid of Jess fast enough. So he couldn’t help wondering if Libby had a boyfriend. If so, was she relieved to hand off this child so she could put the guy first? And he had no reason to care since she’d be gone in a few minutes. And where was the nanny he was paying for her expertise in regard to Morgan’s environment?

“I’m getting the distinct impression that you don’t like my place,” he said.

She stood to look at him, but kept a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “It’s spectacular and quite lovely. I’ve never been in a more beautiful home.”

“And yet you’re talking redecorating.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how big is it?”

“About sixty-five-hundred square feet, including the pool and patio,” he answered, unable to completely suppress the note of satisfaction. His mother’s main squeeze hadn’t been shy about expressing the opinion that Jess was a screwup who wouldn’t amount to anything. So sue him for taking pride in his spectacular success.

Libby absently nodded as she glanced around. “It’s very big and one doesn’t need to look far to realize it’s a very adult environment.”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“The decor is dark. Strategically lighted artwork hangs in nearly every room. There’s expensive glass and pricey figurines on flat surfaces and in cabinets. What if something gets broken because a child is high-spirited and energetic? Sticky hands and art projects aren’t compatible with light-colored fabric and expensive wood. How is a five-year-old supposed to feel comfortable here?”