A Nanny Under the Mistletoe. Raye Morgan

hadn’t been paying attention.

      “Her teacher called her coloring ‘art stick.’”

      “Artistic,” she translated.

      “Ah. That means it was good,” he told Morgan. “Sometimes it’s hard to be objective about our own work.”

      “Huh?”

      “It means that we always like what we do so it’s not easy to tell whether or not other people will like it, too.”

      “Oh.” But she still looked confused.

      “The good news is that while your right hand is getting better, your left got a chance to be a star.”

      “I guess.” Her look was doubtful.

      “So you had a quiet day?” He couldn’t shake the feeling something had happened.

      “Yup.” Morgan nodded emphatically. “Then me and Aunt Libby came here.”

      He noticed she didn’t say home and on some level it bothered him. “After yesterday, I’m glad everything was peaceful. So, that’s all that happened?”

      Morgan scrunched her nose thoughtfully. “I forgot. A man came to see Aunt Libby and asked if he could say hello to his kid.”

      That sent his “uh-oh” radar into on mode. “Who was he? Libby?”

      “Hmm?” She glanced at Morgan and the conversation must have registered on some level because she said, “Oh. Just my father.”

      Jess realized he didn’t know anything about her family and suddenly wanted to. “That’s nice. Him stopping by, I mean.”

      “Aunt Libby didn’t look happy. She s’plained to him that she’s my nanny.”

      And had been for a while, Jess thought. That meant she wasn’t communicating with him regularly.

      “I told him I live with you,” Morgan continued. “And that you bought me a new bed even before I hurt my hand. But when I didn’t cry you took me to the toy store for a ‘ward.”

      “Reward,” Libby clarified, tuning in to the conversation now.

      “Right,” Morgan said. “I told him stuff about you and Aunt Libby said for him not to think about that. But I don’t know what that means.”

      “It was nothing,” Libby said. “He just stopped to say hello.”

      “But you were mad, Aunt Libby.”

      “I wasn’t mad, sweetie.” Libby looked startled. “What makes you think I was mad?”

      “’Cuz you squeezed my not-hurt hand very, very tight and made me walk away kind of fast. And you didn’t even say goodbye to him, which wasn’t p’lite.”

      “I was just in a hurry to get you home,” she said. “I’m sorry you thought I was angry.”

      “That’s okay.” She slid from her chair. “I hafta go potty.”

      She raced from the room, the unexpected visitor forgotten. But not to Jess.

      When they were alone, he looked at Libby, who wouldn’t make eye contact. “You must have been happy to see your father.”

      She looked up and there was nothing happy in her expression. “He shows up from time to time.”

      “You didn’t tell him you’re working for me?”

      “I did today.”

      Not what he meant and the look on her face told him she knew that. “Does your mother know about this job?”

      “She died when I was born.”

      “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

      Before he could ask even one of the million questions that popped into his head, Morgan ran back into the kitchen and Libby was reminding her to slow down and be careful of her hand. After that the routine ritual of table-clearing and bathtime commenced. The fact that it was becoming familiar to him wasn’t as disturbing as curiosity about Libby.

      He hoped that was because she so obviously didn’t want to talk about her father. He figured that was because of a strained relationship, something he understood only too well. He didn’t share information about his mother because there was nothing to be gained by telling a story that always managed to piss him off all over again.

      He refused to consider that his high curiosity level was due to anything more than Libby’s out-of-the-ordinary reserve. Every time their paths had crossed over the years, her smart, sassy sense of humor drew him, among other things that had caught his attention and some that hadn’t until she’d moved into his penthouse.

      He’d deliberately pretended not to remember her because he couldn’t ever completely forget her. He had sensed the moment they met that she could be more to him, which wasn’t something he ever wanted. The problem was getting that message where it needed to go. Every day he became more aware that she was bright and sexy. Not drop-dead gorgeous, but definitely pretty. And he was damned attracted.

      The good news was that Morgan had talked to him more than she ever had and didn’t seem to hold the emergencyroom fiasco against him. The bad? Every day it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep himself from kissing the nanny.

      And that would be a huge mistake.

      Libby expected Jess to work late and miss Halloween, but that hadn’t stopped her from hoping she’d be wrong. She wasn’t. When he walked into the penthouse, Morgan was already asleep, worn out from trick-or-treating and the excitement of wearing her costume.

      He came into the kitchen, where Libby was standing by the island, inspecting the cache of candy the little girl had collected in her plastic pumpkin.

      “Sorry I’m late,” he said by way of greeting.

      “Yeah.”

      With his jacket slung over his shoulder and held by one finger, he looked every inch a corporate pirate. His tie was loosened and the first button of his white dress shirt undone, with the long sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. The look was so blatantly male, so incredibly masculine that he quite literally took her breath away. She wasn’t prepared for that, but then she never was. There was no way to brace for the overwhelming force of attraction she’d experienced from the moment they’d met.

      Jess picked up a chocolate bar and the expression on his face held traces of regret, which was surprising. “Did Morgan have fun?”

      “Big time.” Libby tossed a small bag of hard candy with a tear in the package onto the discard pile. “I took her to the District in Green Valley Ranch. The stores surround a big courtyard and were all giving out candy. It had a safe, blockparty sort of feel and there were lots of kids. She had a blast.”

      “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see her dressed up.”

      “It’s not too late. She insisted on wearing her princess costume to bed.”

      One dark eyebrow rose. “You let her?”

      “It’s a special occasion. Relaxing the rules seemed like a good idea.” Relax being the operative word since there was something she needed to discuss with him. “You can look in on her if you want.”

      “I’ll do that.”

      And there was a surprise. Every time she thought she had him figured out he did the unexpected.

      He was gone for a while and returned wearing worn jeans and a pale yellow pullover sweater with the neck of his white T-shirt peeking out. Another masculine look that rocked her hormones. She should be used to it by now, but not so much.

      “She looks pretty cute,” he said. “While I think it’s really cool, I have to ask. You don’t think the glow-in-the-dark tiara is dangerous?”

      Libby