The Nanny Bombshell. Michelle Celmer

Coop said. “This is Ms. Densmore’s thing. She’s a little fanatical about organization.”

      “Just a little.” She would have a coronary if she looked in Sierra’s closet. Besides being just a fraction the size, it was so piled with junk she could barely close the door. Neatness had never been one of her strong suits. That had been okay living with her dad, who was never tidy himself, but here she would have to make an effort to be more organized.

      “The bathroom is through there,” Coop said, walking past her to open the door, filling the air with the delicious scent of soap and man. The guy really did smell great, and though it was silly, he looked even more attractive holding the baby, which made no sense at all. Or maybe it was just that she’d always been a sucker for a man who was good with kids—because in her profession she had seen too many who weren’t. Dead-beat dads who couldn’t even be bothered to visit their sick child in the hospital. And of course there were the abusive dads who put their kids in the hospital. Those were the really heartbreaking cases and one of the reasons she had transferred from pediatrics to the NICU.

      But having an easy way with an infant didn’t make a man a good father, she reminded herself. Neither did giving them a big beautiful bedroom or an enormous closet filled with toys and designer clothes. The twins needed nurturing, they needed to know that even though their parents were gone, someone still loved them and cared about them.

      She held Fern closer and rubbed her back, and the infant laid her head on Sierra’s shoulder, her thumb tucked in her mouth.

      “I’ll show you your room,” Coop said, and she followed him to the bedroom across the hall. It was even larger than the girls’ room, with the added bonus of a cozy sitting area by the window. With the bedroom, walk-in closet and private bath, it was larger than her entire apartment. All that was missing was the tiny, galley-style kitchen, but she had a gourmet kitchen just a few rooms away at her disposal.

      The furnishings and decor weren’t exactly her style. The black, white and gray color scheme was too modern and cold and the steel and glass furnishings were a bit masculine, but bringing some of her own things in would liven it up a little. She could learn to live with it.

      “That bad, huh?”

      Startled by the comment, Sierra looked over at Coop. He was frowning. “I didn’t say that.”

      “You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.

      You hate it.”

      “I don’t hate it.”

      One brow tipped up. “Now you’re lying.”

      “It’s not what I would have chosen, but it’s very … stylish.”

      He laughed. “You are so lying. You think it’s terrible.”

      She bit her lip to keep from smiling, but the corners of her mouth tipped up regardless. “I’ll get used to it.”

      “I’ll call my decorator. You can fix it however you like. Paint, furniture, the works.”

      She opened her mouth to tell him that wouldn’t be necessary, and he held up one ridiculously large palm to shush her. “Do you really think I’m going to let you stay in a room you despise? This is going to be your home. I want you to be comfortable here.”

      She wondered if he was always this nice, or if he was just so desperate for a reliable nanny he would do anything to convince her to take the job. If that was the case, she could probably negotiate a higher salary, but it wasn’t about the money. She just wanted to be with her girls.

      “If you’re sure it’s not a problem, I wouldn’t mind adding a few feminine touches,” she told him.

      “You can sleep in the nursery until it’s finished, or if you’d prefer more privacy, there’s a fold-out love seat in my office.”

      “The nursery is fine.” She didn’t care about privacy, and she liked the idea of sleeping near her girls.

      He nodded to Fern and said, “I think we should lay them down. It’s afternoon nap time.”

      Sierra looked down at Fern and realized that she had fallen asleep, her thumb still wedged in her mouth, and Ivy, who had laid her head on Coop’s enormously wide shoulder, was looking drowsy, too.

      They carried the girls back to the nursery and laid them in their beds—Fern on the right side and Ivy on the left—then they stepped quietly out and Coop shut the door behind them.

      “How long will they sleep?” Sierra asked.

      “On a good day, two hours. But they slept in until eight this morning, so maybe less.” He paused in the hall and asked, “Before we call my attorney, would you like something to drink? We have juice and soda … baby formula.”

      She smiled. “I’m good, thanks.”

      “Okay, if you’re having any second thoughts, this is your last chance to change your mind.”

      That would never happen. He was stuck with her. “No second thoughts.”

      “Great, let’s go to my office and call Ben,” Coop said with a grin. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

      Three

      Coop stood outside Sierra’s bedroom door, hoping she hadn’t already gone to sleep for the night. It was barely nine-thirty, but today had been her first official day watching the girls, so he was guessing that she was probably pretty exhausted. God knows they wore him out.

      She had signed the contract the afternoon of her second interview, then spent most of the next day moving her things and unpacking. He had offered to pay a service to do the moving for her, but she had insisted she had it covered, showing up in the early afternoon with a slew of boxes and two youngish male friends—orderlies from the hospital, she’d told him—who had been openly thrilled to meet the great Coop Landon.

      Though Coop had tried to pay them for the help, they refused to take any cash. Instead he offered them each a beer, and while Sierra unpacked and the twins napped, he and the guys sat out on the rooftop patio. They asked him about his career and the upcoming season draft picks, leaving a couple of hours later with autographed pucks.

      Coop had hoped to be around today to help Sierra and the twins make the transition, but he’d been trapped in meetings with the marketing team for his new sports equipment line all morning, and in the afternoon he’d met with the owner of his former team. If things went as planned, Coop would own the team before the start of the next season in October. Owning the New York Scorpions had been his dream since he started playing for the team. For twenty-two years, until his bad knee took him off the ice, he lived and breathed hockey. He loved everything about the game. Buying a team was the natural next step, and he had the players’ blessing.

      After the meetings Coop had enjoyed his first dinner out with friends in weeks. Well, he hadn’t actually enjoyed it. Though he had been counting the days until he was free again, throughout the entire meal his mind kept wandering back to Fern and Ivy and how they were doing with Sierra. Should he have canceled his meetings and spent that first day with them? Was it irresponsible of him to have left them with a stranger? Not that he didn’t trust Sierra—he just wanted to be sure that he was doing the right thing. They had already lost their parents—he didn’t want them to think that he was abandoning them, too.

      When the rest of the party had moved on to a local bar for after-dinner drinks, dancing and skirt chasing, to the surprise of his friends, Coop had called it a night. On a typical evening he closed out the bar, moved on to a party and usually didn’t go home alone. But the ribbing he endured from his buddies was mild. Hell, it had been less than a month since he lost his brother. It was going to take him a little time to get back into his normal routine. And right now the twins needed him. He would try to work from home the rest of the week, so he could spend more time with them. After more than two weeks of being together almost constantly, he had gotten used to having them around.

      He