The Playboy & Plain Jane. Leanne Banks

he turned to meet her gaze and his mouth lifted in a slow half smile. “So you did.”

      Gail felt the punch of attraction all over again, but refused to let the man’s sex appeal cloud her mind. “She’s not crying,” she said, moving closer to the crib.

      “She doesn’t know I’m here,” Nicholas said dryly. “Otherwise, she’d be screaming her lungs out.”

      “Babies cry to expend energy. It’s not personal,” she said, and hoped it was true.

      “Uh-huh.” His deep voice was full of doubt as he returned his gaze to Molly.

      “Well, it’s true. It’s not as if babies can play tennis or volleyball to work off their frustration.”

      “And there’s no correlation to her crying every time I come around. It has absolutely nothing to do with my presence.”

      Gail wanted to say it didn’t, but she feared her nose would grow like Pinocchio’s. “Well, it wouldn’t,” she insisted, “if you would spend more time with her when she’s awake.”

      “Her little life’s been turned inside out lately. I don’t want to upset her more, so I come every night and watch her. Maybe she’ll get used to me through osmosis or something.”

      The combination of his wry tenderness and strength struck at Gail’s heart. “Maybe you could sing to her.”

      He shot her a dark look.

      “Just seems like there should be a way to make some progress,” she said, wrinkling her brow as she searched for a solution. “Maybe you could leave something of yours in her crib. Something you wear next to your skin. Something with your scent.”

      “My socks?” he said.

      She chuckled. “No. The objective is to help her bond with you, not chase her away. Maybe your T-shirt,” she ventured.

      He stood perfectly still for a long moment, then gave a short nod. “Okay,” he said, and shrugged out of his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. He thrust his jacket at her. “Here. Hold this.”

      Gail instinctively clutched his jacket and felt her jaw fall open in shock. “Uh, you, uh, don’t have to—” She broke off as he handed her his shirt and in one motion yanked off his T-shirt. Her gaze fastened on the breathtaking, thigh-melting view of his muscular bare chest. A dusting of dark hair skimmed down the center of his chest and abdomen and disappeared beneath the waistband of his black slacks. He carefully set his T-shirt beside Molly in the crib, his muscles rippling with the movement.

      He turned back to face her. “Any other suggestions?”

      None that wouldn’t send her into cardiac arrest, Gail thought. She cleared her throat. “You’ll get an opportunity to be alone with her when she’s awake tomorrow night.”

      Alarm crossing his face, he did a double take. “Tomorrow night!” Molly stirred, and he lowered his voice, moving closer to Gail. “You’re not quitting already, are you?”

      “Of course not,” she whispered. “I have tomorrow night off. I have a volleyball game.”

      He frowned, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe I should call a sitter.”

      “It requires guts and tenacity. I thought you Barones cornered the market when it came to guts and tenacity.”

      He looked at her for a long moment. “What do I do with her?”

      Gail’s heart swelled with a combination of admiration and compassion. Nicholas Barone was an incredibly powerful man, but he was willing to go to the mat for the daughter he hadn’t even known existed just weeks ago. “Read to her. Pay attention to her. Women are the same at any age. They love attention. They love to be chased. They love to laugh,” she said, and noticed he was standing so close to her she could see the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. She felt suddenly light-headed.

      “Women are the same at any age,” he echoed, his curious gaze winding around her like a silken thread. “So what does Gail want? To be chased and to laugh?”

      She had to be imagining the intensity in his gaze, because he sure as heck could not be looking at her the way a man looks at a woman he finds desirable. Dropping her gaze to clear her head, she stared at her feet and his. He wore Italian leather shoes. She wore pink bunny slippers. She backed away. “Gail wants a cup of herbal tea. I’ll let you get back to your secret quality time with your daughter. Don’t worry about tomorrow night. I’ll leave her favorite books out for you, and if that doesn’t work, you can always make up a story.”

      He gave her a blank look. “Make up a story about what?”

      She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure you’re creative,” she said, and the naughty thought sliced through her mind that he was probably very creative in bed. Before her mouth decided to share that thought, she took another step backward. “Good night, Nicholas.”

      He nodded. “Gail,” he said as she turned.

      She stopped. “Yes?”

      “Great slippers.”

      Her cheeks heated at the sexy amusement in his voice. His voice was so sexy he could probably read the Wall Street Journal and a woman would beg him to bed her. Gail bit back a moan. She definitely needed to make sure she didn’t run into Nicholas late at night again. A woman needed all her faculties and fortitude to fight off that man’s impact.

      The following night Gail played volleyball with her co-ed team. She’d been so immersed in her new nanny position that she had a tough time concentrating at first. Her longtime buddy and teammate, Jonathan, had teased her out of her fog. After the game and a quick shower at the gym, she joined her comrades for a celebratory round of beer at a local bar. Her mind kept wandering to Molly and Nicholas. Visions of Molly, red-faced and crying, and Nicholas, discouraged and exasperated, plagued her, so she left early.

      When she entered through the heavy wooden front door, she listened for sounds of screaming. Instead, she heard Nicholas’s low baritone coming from the kitchen. Quietly walking down the hallway, she noticed his words were punctuated by pleasant gurgling noises from Molly. Pleasant? Gail silently mouthed the word wow and stood outside the kitchen.

      “You like Baronessa strawberry gelato,” Nicholas said. “You have excellent taste. Would you like to hear how Baronessa Gelati was started?”

      Molly gave an unintelligible babble, but once again, it was pleasant sounding.

      “I knew you’d be interested. Your great-grandfather Marco came to America from Italy and he fell in love with a girl named Angelica who made ice-cream desserts. The two of them eloped on Valentine’s Day and they later opened a gelateria, which is an Italian ice-cream store. Can you say gelateria?”

      Another unintelligible babble followed, and Gail smiled, charmed by Nicholas’s ridiculous question.

      “That’s okay,” he said. “I’m sure my father will make sure you speak some Italian. But back to the story. Marco named the gelateria Baronessa because their last name—our last name—means baron in English. As his wife, she was the baronessa. The gelateria became very popular with locals and tourists. It was a huge success. Years passed, and my father, Carlo, who earned his MBA from Harvard, took the business national, and Baronessa Gelati can now be found in the gourmet section of grocery stores all over the world.” He paused. “Baronessa strawberry gelato can also be found all over you, little one. It looks like you’re going to need another bath, and something tells me that won’t be nearly as popular as strawberry gelato.”

      Gail poked her head through the doorway. “Looks like you two have been having a party.”

      Nicholas heard Molly shriek with joy and felt a rush of relief at the sight of Gail. Molly had been fretful for a good part of the evening. Serving her gelato had been an act of inspiration and desperation.

      Gail smiled, and