A Nanny Under the Mistletoe. Raye Morgan

marble floor with the fancy crystal chandelier overhead.

      Jess, on the other hand, looked right at home. Which he would, since this was his home. She’d always wondered what it was like, a part of her curious about the man who couldn’t even remember her name. But she remembered everything about him in far too much detail. The flesh-and-blood man was even better than the image she carried around in her head.

      Other than the wedding where she’d first seen him in a traditional black tux, the other run-ins had been casual and his clothes reflected that. Formal or informal attire made no difference; he was an extraordinarily handsome man. She thought she’d prepared herself for seeing him face-to-face, but steel girders and cinder blocks wouldn’t have been enough to do the job.

      It was Saturday and clearly he wasn’t dressed for the office. In his chest-hugging black T-shirt and worn jeans he looked less like the wealthy man she knew he was. His black hair was cut short and the scruff of beard on his cheeks and jaw made his blue eyes look bluer. Her heart hammered, making it hard to think straight, which was darned inconvenient when thinking was important because she had a lot on the line.

      He folded his arms over the chest she’d just admired. “So, let me get this straight. You’re the nanny?”

      “I am.” At least she hoped so.

      “I don’t think so.”

      “Give me one good reason,” she said.

      “We know each other—”

      “That’s not technically true,” she interrupted. Best to take the wind out of his sails before he picked up speed with that thought process. “Knowing each other would imply you remember my name. But every time our paths cross you stick out your hand and say ‘Hi, I’m Jess Donnelly.’” She slid her own shaking hands into the pockets of her jeans. “That says Teflon brain.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “You know. Teflon. Slippery. Nothing sticks. Like the fact that we’ve met. In my book, we really don’t know each other.”

      “You were Charity’s maid of honor. You came to their housewarming barbecue. You’re godmother to that child.”

      “And you’re godfather.”

      “I remember.”

      “All evidence to the contrary.” She bit her tongue but it was too late because the words were already out.

      His gaze narrowed on her. “I learned a long time ago not to assume that everyone recalls who I am. I meet a lot of people and always introduce myself.” He lifted one broad shoulder in a casual shrug. “It’s polite, avoids potential awkwardness and now it’s a habit of mine.”

      “I see.” But it wasn’t really okay and she didn’t know why. “So you’re aware that I’ve been taking care of Morgan for over nine months?”

      “Ben mentioned it.” A dark look slid into his eyes. “Before he and Charity left—”

      “When he asked you to be her legal guardian if anything happened,” she finished.

      “Yeah.”

      “Obviously there’s been something of a misunderstanding. Just so you know, I’m more than willing to take on the nanny job.”

      “No.”

      “Even though I’ve been caring for her all this time?” She blinked. “Just like that? You don’t even want to think about it?”

      “There’s nothing to think about.”

      “So you really want to take on a child you hardly know and didn’t come to see while her parents were gone? Not even when you found out her mother and father had passed away?”

      “I already explained that I was out of the country at the time.”

      “And I was the one here with her. The one who had to break the news that Ben and Charity weren’t coming back.”

      “I promised my friend that I would raise his child if anything happened to him. I gave my word.”

      “But they gave Morgan to me,” she countered.

      “So you want to keep her. I get it.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The thing is they made me her legal guardian.”

      “Paperwork. It can be changed if you agree.”

      “I don’t.”

      “Even though you don’t really want her?”

      “Who said I don’t?” he asked sharply.

      She raised a hand to indicate his posh penthouse. “There are signs.”

      “I assured Ben that his daughter would have everything she needed and he shouldn’t worry.” He looked at her. “So I found the finest child-care service available to provide supervision. Now you’re here. How did that happen?”

      “Since you were too busy to seal the deal, maybe you should ask your lawyer and secretary.”

      “I will. And Ginger Davis is on my list, too. Frankly I’m questioning her judgment in sending you.”

      “She wouldn’t have sent me unless you approved,” Libby defended. “I’ll admit it was my idea—”

      “There’s a surprise.”

      She glared at him. “Just think about it and you’ll see that this makes sense. Morgan has been with me since her parents left and it could potentially be harmful to leave her in the care of strangers. I’m willing and eager to be her nanny. It’s a good plan.”

      “Define good,” he said.

      “Continuity of care for Morgan at a time when she’s especially vulnerable.”

      “By that you mean yourself.” He stared at her. “Why didn’t you come to me? Approach me up front and run this scenario by me?”

      “I tried.”

      “Apparently not very hard.”

      “You’re not really like the rest of us, are you? Do you remember what it felt like when the name of gazillionaire Jess Donnelly didn’t open doors or grease the wheels in getting you past secretaries, administrative assistants, doormen and security? Right to the top of the food chain?”

      “I’ll admit there are layers to my organization.”

      “No kidding.” She blew out a breath and struggled for calm. “I didn’t set out to campaign for this job. As it happens I already work for Ginger at the preschool. We discussed the arrangement and she decided there was some merit to my suggestion. I assumed that when she said everything had been worked out you’d agreed to it.” She folded her arms over her chest. “No one told me negotiations had gone through your minions.”

      “Look, I’ve only ever been introduced to you as Libby. I didn’t know you and Elizabeth Bradford were one and the same. It seems a conflict of interest since we have a prior relationship.”

      “What we have isn’t a relationship. It’s a series of brief encounters, ships passing in the night. Nothing about that is personal enough to prevent me being Morgan’s nanny.”

      He shook his head. “Look, Libby, I don’t think this is going to work out—”

      “Aunt Libby?”

      Jess whirled around and when he moved, Libby saw Morgan behind him. She didn’t know how long the little girl had been there. “Hey, sweetie. Is SpongeBob over?”

      “No.”

      “Is something wrong?” Libby asked. Stupid question. Everything was wrong, she realized. But nothing good would come of letting Morgan see her desperation.

      “I got scared. You sounded mad.”

      “I’m