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

He ran his fingers through his hair, then nodded. “I’ll make it a point to be home for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Promise?”

“Is that really necessary?”

“I don’t want to tell Morgan you’ll be here unless it’s going to happen,” Libby said. Life was full of disappointments and she didn’t want more than necessary for a little girl who was dealing with the worst one of all.

“Promise.” He made a cross over his heart and held up two fingers.

“Okay, then. It’s a date.”

Almost instantly she regretted her phrasing. That made it sound too personal, which was so the wrong tone. She wanted him to take an interest in Morgan, not herself. Mostly.

And so she felt the same conflict of smart women throughout time. How could she want him so intensely when she wasn’t sure she liked him at all?

Chapter Three

The next night Jess walked into the penthouse and heard Libby’s voice, the smoke-and-whiskey huskiness that skipped over his skin and made him hot. Now was no exception. When she stopped talking, a little-girl giggle filled the silence. This was the first time he’d ever heard that sound in his home and it made him smile. Amusement faded fast when he remembered why he was here.

To get involved with Morgan. Libby’s words came back to him—like Ben would have been if he’d lived.

“I’m trying, buddy,” Jess whispered. “Man, I wish you were here. I’m already screwing this up.”

Libby had figured out that he worked late to avoid the situation at home. She’d nailed him and he didn’t like it. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about her coming up with the idea of being the nanny. On one hand, he was glad to have someone caring for Morgan that she knew and felt comfortable with. Someone who could make her giggle, he thought when the sound came to him again.

On the other hand, Libby had also guessed that he hadn’t wanted to go to the memorial service and seemed to share the feeling. She’d gone soft when they discussed it, unlike the harsh way she’d reviewed his home as it related to being kid-friendly. But he could tell that she didn’t particularly like him and he didn’t particularly care. At least he tried not to because that was a slippery slope straight to hell.

Jess set his briefcase down by the front door, took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen. Every light in the room was on, including the under-the-cabinet fluorescents. Morgan was sitting on one of the six tall, padded wrought-iron stools arranged in a semi-circle around the island. Libby was across from her putting something on a cookie sheet. The glass-topped dinette was set with three woven placemats, plates, eating utensils and glasses. Until the last week, he’d always come home to a dark, silent penthouse. All this light and activity made him feel as if he’d stepped into an alternate universe.

Libby looked up and saw him standing there. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He lifted a hand when Morgan turned in his direction. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she said, not quite looking at him.

Until he made his presence known, Libby and Morgan had been talking and laughing. Now it was as if the cone of awkwardness had descended, closing off the giggles. Suddenly the room wasn’t quite so bright. Maybe Libby had been wrong about Morgan wanting him there.

He observed Libby, noting how the tailored white cotton blouse and snug jeans set off her curves to perfection. There was uncertainty in her vivid blue eyes. Maybe they took on that extraordinary color because her cheeks were flushed. It didn’t matter why, really, because the more he saw her, the more he realized how striking she was.

“So,” she said.

“What’s for dinner?” He looked at Morgan, who was staring at the beige-and-black design on the granite-covered island.

Libby waited a couple of beats, then answered with exaggerated cheerfulness in her tone. “We’re having chicken nuggets and french fries.”

He moved beside her and studied the mystery chicken pieces arranged in rows on the cookie sheet. He picked one up and examined it. “I have a number of luxury resorts that employ world-renowned chefs and I don’t think one of them has this particular entrée in their repertoire.”

“It’s Morgan’s favorite.” Libby gave him a look, although her tone was still relatively good-humored. “She chose this for dinner.”

He’d meant the words in a teasing way but the little girl looked worried. Clearly she didn’t get his sense of humor, but he’d put his foot in his mouth and needed to salvage the situation somehow.

“I can’t wait to try this,” he said, wondering if his voice had enough enthusiasm or was over-the-top.

“You’re going to love it,” Libby promised. “Isn’t he, Morgan?”

“I guess.” She didn’t look up.

“And to balance this meal nutritionally, I’ve made a salad with various kinds of lettuce, veggies, shaved almonds, croutons for crunch and blue cheese crumbles just because.”

“Yuck,” Morgan commented, wrinkling her nose.

“You know the rule,” Libby said.

The little girl heaved a huge sigh. “I don’t have to like it, but I have to try it.”

“Seems fair,” Jess said.

This brought back memories of his own childhood, before his dad died. Before everything went to hell. He knew the signs well enough to know that Morgan was on the dark side now. He wanted to make it better, but he didn’t even know how to carry on a conversation without hurting her feelings.

“Why don’t you tell Uncle Jess what you did at school today,” Libby suggested, as if she could read minds.

His next thought was the realization that the little girl had never addressed him by his given name, let alone said “Uncle Jess.” He’d have remembered that. When he’d dropped in on her parents, they’d run interference and the visits had been scattered, infrequent. Not enough for her to remember him.

Now he was the one in charge of running interference, which made him certain that fate had a sadistic sense of humor. It also made him want to put a fist through the wall, but that wasn’t an option.

“What did you do in school, Morgan?” he asked, grateful that Libby had thrown him a bone.

Morgan glanced up at him, then down again. “I made a pumpkin.”

“It’s there on the refrigerator. For Halloween,” Libby explained.

He looked behind him and saw the construction paper creation held to the front of the appliance with a magnet. The little girl had colored it green and he was about to say something about pumpkins being orange when he noticed Libby shake her head slightly in a negative motion. Fortunately he wasn’t quite as dense as a rock and got her drift.

“Wow, Morgan. I really like your pumpkin,” he said. “You did a great job.”

“One of the kids said it’s the wrong color,” she mumbled.

“What do they know? Maybe this is a pumpkin that’s not ripe yet,” he suggested.

Morgan lifted one slight shoulder in a shrug.

When he met Libby’s gaze, her expression was sympathetic. That wasn’t something he was used to seeing. If anyone could sense that it was him. When his mother had brought home a guy two years after his dad’s death, Jess had known in seconds that he didn’t measure up. He’d always gotten the same hostile vibe from Libby.

He was accustomed to her shooting daggers at him when their paths crossed in a party setting with other people around. He’d always noticed her but managed to find someone safe to take his mind off her. That wasn’t the case now. Worse, he kind of liked that she was cutting him some slack for his inexperience.

But there was something else about her that was different, too. Her blond hair was tousled around her face, teasing her pink cheeks. The smile she flashed him was bright and beautiful and made his chest feel weird. Intelligence snapped in her eyes and her mouth made him wonder if it would taste as good as he imagined.

From the first moment he met her, he’d been concerned that she could take his mind and libido to a place he’d always managed to avoid going. And he shouldn’t be going there now.