The Playboy & Plain Jane. Leanne Banks

      He chuckled, thinking he was enjoying this exchange far more than he should. “I’m not a gentleman one hundred percent of the time,” he said, and pulled her to her feet. “Gentlemen can be boring.”

      She rushed to adjust the towel around her and Nicholas caught a glimpse of the curve of her round derriere. The sight was so distracting he almost didn’t catch her frown. “I disagree,” she said. “A true gentleman understands the value of good manners and consideration.”

      “A smart man uses those to his advantage, but makes his own rules.”

      Gail sighed and walked around him, the towel offering more tantalizing glimpses of her rear end with each step she took. “You’re not going to change my opinion. And with me clinging to this towel, I’m reasonably sure I won’t be changing yours. So, thank you for your concern. I’d like to get to bed now. Good night.”

      His gaze latching on to her derriere, Nicholas barely resisted the urge to say, You give new meaning to the word peekaboo.

      Gail survived the night, even though she felt sick every time she thought about Nicholas Barone hearing her sing in the shower, then feeling compelled to pick her up off the floor and nearly catching her buck naked. Molly soon distracted her. Unfortunately one of Gail’s most effective calming tricks involved her own hair, which Molly liked to grasp and hang on to. It meant the baby was attached to her for most of her waking hours. Gail told herself it was a bonding period and it would pass.

      At six o’clock on the dot, Nicholas walked through the front door. “It’s Daddy!” Gail said, trying to convey a feeling of happy excitement to Molly. Gail feared the baby and her hottie father were off to a rocky start. “It’s Daddy,” Gail said again, heading toward the foyer with Molly in her arms.

      Nicholas spotted his daughter and approached cautiously. Gail felt Molly’s hand wind around a strand of her hair. A sure sign of tension. Molly popped her thumb in her mouth and stared at her father as if she couldn’t decide if he were a monster.

      “Hello, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice. “How was your day today? Did you have a good time with Gail?”

      Molly wound her hand another turn around Gail’s hair and stared at her father.

      “Say Da-da,” Gail prompted the child. Then she turned to Nicholas. “I think she’s focused on verbal development now. She’s making lots of sounds.”

      “What is she doing to your hair?” Nicholas asked, his brow furrowing.

      “I think it’s a security thing,” Gail said wryly. “Some kids use a blanket. Molly uses my hair.”

      Nicholas moved closer. “It looks like she’s going to rip it out,” he said, reaching to loosen Molly’s grip.

      Momentarily distracted by a whiff of his aftershave, Gail stared at the sensual curve of his mouth. She wondered how he kissed. Heat rolled through her. Instinct told her he was an incredible lover.

      Not that she would ever find out. Not that she really wanted to find out, she told herself, feeling Molly stiffen. “It’s okay. You don’t need to—” She broke off when she felt Nicholas’s fingers graze the skin of her neck as he tried to pry Molly’s fingers loose.

      Molly’s eyes widened in alarm. She let out an ear-rattling wail of protest.

      Gail winced and shook her head. “Just let her have my hair. I don’t like it that much,” she said with a chuckle. “She can use it.”

      Nicholas pulled back his hand with a frown. “She always seems to cry when I come around.”

      Gail bit her lip. He was right. “Maybe it’s just the time of day.”

      “Morning and night?” he asked skeptically.

      “She probably just needs some time with you alone. Maybe you could start reading to her at night.”

      If Gail didn’t know better, she would say she saw a sliver of terror flash through his eyes. That couldn’t be right, she thought. After all, Molly was his daughter. A big, powerful man like Nicholas Barone couldn’t possibly be terrified of his baby daughter. Could he?

      “Maybe,” he said in a considering tone, his expression guarded. “Maybe another night. I have a commitment to attend a charity function tonight. My turn to be the official Barone-family representative.”

      Still wailing, Molly clutched Gail’s hair tightly. “It’s okay,” Gail cooed, rubbing the baby’s back. “You’re just fine.” She glanced again at Nicholas, her curiosity aroused. “Do you mind being the official Barone representative?” she said.

      He shrugged and his mouth tilted in a sexy grin. “Depends on the function and the woman.”

      She nodded. “Ah,” she said, feeling a jumpy sensation at the sensual glint in his eyes. How would it feel to spend an evening receiving the undivided attention of a man like Nicholas Barone? Gail would no doubt spend the entire date stammering and blushing, unlike the confident, gorgeous women he was accustomed to. She wondered who it was tonight. “You must have a tough time choosing the ‘flavor of the day.’ I don’t remember meeting a woman who doesn’t love ice cream, so you must represent the perfect combination.”

      “What would that be?” he asked. “Wealth and…”

      She shook her head. “Actually I wasn’t thinking of wealth. I was thinking of ice cream and a favorite topping. Something hot,” she said impulsively, because if ever the word was an apt description for a man, it was now. “Hot fudge sauce.”

      As Nicholas stared at her for a long moment, she felt a roar of embarrassment race through her. What had possessed her to say such a thing? Thinking it was one thing. Saying it was something totally different. She cringed, certain her cheeks matched the color of her hair. Was she destined to constantly embarrass herself in front of this man? “Could we just forget I said that?”

      “Forget you just compared me to ice cream and hot fudge sauce?” he asked, his dark eyebrows arching.

      “Uh, yeah,” she said hopefully.

      He shook his head and chuckled. “No. I’m sure I’ll remember that for a long time.”

      And Gail made the futile wish that she could fall through a crack in the perfectly sealed tile floor of the foyer so her five-foot-eight-inch frame would disappear.

      Two

      After the last two busy days, Gail should have been comatose. Instead, she stared wide-eyed at the eight-foot ceiling of her elegant bedroom. Molly, the precious screaming meemie, had finally fallen asleep an hour ago. Caring for an uneasy, clingy one-year-old was both rewarding and exhausting. On those rare occasions when Molly smiled, it was as if the sun came out from behind a cloud.

      Gail felt as if she was making progress with her little charge, but she worried about Molly and Nicholas. She had tried without success to encourage Nicholas to spend time with his daughter. He made overtures, but when Molly began to cry, and she always did, he backed away. Gail worried about how to bring the two of them together. If Molly continued to cry and Nicholas continued to pull away, she feared they would never develop the warm, loving relationship they both could have.

      The warm, loving relationship Gail would have had with her father if he had lived. The memory of her father’s death stirred a pang of longing to which Gail thought she’d become immune.

      Abandoning her effort to sleep, she rose from the bed and pulled on her robe. She yawned, scooted her feet into her pink bunny slippers and headed for the kitchen for a cup of something hot without caffeine. As she passed Molly’s room, she noticed the door was slightly ajar.

      Curious, she quietly pushed the door open and spotted Nicholas standing next to Molly’s crib. Dressed in a black wool suit that had taken him from early-morning meetings to another charity function this evening, he had loosened his tie and was totally