Michelle Celmer – Billionaire's Jet Set Babies & The Nanny Bombshell: Billionaire's Jet Set Babies / The Nanny Bombshell (страница 8)
He wasn’t going back to work? They would be spending the rest of the evening here. Together with the children, of course. And after the toddlers drifted off? He’d mentioned Pippa kept them up late. With luck the pint-size chaperones would burn the midnight oil.
“Too bad your dinner companion couldn’t have told you about the delay before you left Charleston. You would have had time to make other arrangements for the children.” And she would have been at home in her lonely apartment eating ice cream while thinking about encountering Seth on his plane. Because without question, he was a memorable man.
“I’m glad to have the time with them. I assume you can arrange to stay longer?”
“I’ll call my partner back as soon as the kids are asleep. She and I will make it work.”
“Excellent. Now we just need to arrange extra clothes and toiletries for you.” He reached for the room phone as Olivia and Owen chased each other in circles around their father. “When I order my supper I’ll also have the concierge pick up something for you to change int—”
“Really, no need.” She held up a hand, an unsettling tingle tripping up her spine at the thought of wearing things purchased by him. “I’ll wear the hotel robe tonight and we can have the hotel wash my clothes. The kids and I will kill time tomorrow browsing around downtown, shopping while you finish your meeting. You do have a double stroller, don’t you?”
“Already arranged. But you are going to need a change of clothing sooner than that.” The furrows in his brow warned her a second before he said, “My business prospect wants to have breakfast with the kids and there’s not a chance in hell I can carry that off on my own. It’s my fault you’re here without a change of clothes.”
A business breakfast? With two toddlers? Whose genius idea was that? But she held her silence and conceded to the need for something appropriate to wear.
She stifled a twinge of nerves at discussing her clothing size. She was past those days of stepping on the scales every morning for her mom to check—what a hell of a way to spend “mother-daughter” time. And thank God, she was past the days of starving herself into a size zero.
Size zero. There’d been an irony in that, as if she could somehow fade away…
Blinking the past back, she said, “Okay then, tell them to buy smalls or eights, and my shoes are size seven.”
His green eyes glimmered wickedly. “And underwear measurements?”
She poked him in the chest with one finger. “Not on your life am I answering that one.” God, his chest was solid. She stepped away. “Make sure to keep a tally of how much everything costs. I insist on reimbursing you.”
“Unnecessarily prideful, but as you wish.” He said it so arrogantly she wanted to thump him on the back of his head.
Not a wise business move, though, touching him again. One little tap had nearly seared her fingertip and her mind. “I pay my own way now.”
“At least let me loan you a T-shirt to sleep in tonight rather than that stifling hotel robe.”
His clothes against her naked flesh?
Whoa.
Shaking off the goose bumps, she followed the toddling twins into the master bedroom. The rumble of his voice followed her as Seth ordered his meal, her clothing and some other toiletries…
Olivia and Owen sprinted to check out the matching portable cribs that had been set up on the far side of the king-size bed, each neatly made. Everything had been provided to accommodate a family. A real family. Except she would crawl under her own covers all alone wearing a hot guy’s T-shirt.
Alexa wrapped her arms around her stomach, reminded of the life she’d been denied with the implosion of her marriage. A life she purposefully hadn’t thought about in a year since she’d craved a real family more than her next breath. Being thrust into this situation with Seth stirred longings she’d ignored for too long. Damn it, she’d taken this gamble for her company, her employees, her future.
But in doing so, she hadn’t realized how deeply playing at this family game could cut into her heart.
* * *
Playing pretend family was kicking his ass.
Seth forked up the last bite of his Chilean sea bass while Alexa started her warm peach bread pudding with lavender cream. They’d opted to feed the babies first and put them to bed so the adults could actually dine in peace out on the turret balcony. Their supper had been set up by the wrought-iron table for two, complete with a lone rose in the middle of the table. Historical sconces on either side of the open doors cast a candlelit glow over the table.
Classical music drifted softly from inside. Okay, so it was actually something called “The Mozart Effect—Music for Babies,” and he used it to help soothe Olivia and Owen to sleep. But it still qualified as mood-setting music for grown-ups.
And holy crap, did Alexa ever qualify as a smoking hot adult.
She’d changed into one of his T-shirts with the fluffy hotel robe over it. She looked as if she’d just rolled out of his bed. An ocean breeze lifted her whispery blond hair as late evening street noises echoed softly from the street below. Tonight had been the closest he’d come to experiencing family life with his children.
He hadn’t dated much since his divorce and when he had, he’d been careful to keep that world separate from his kids. Working side by side with Alexa had more than cut the tasks in half tonight. That made him angry all over again that he’d screwed up so badly in his own marriage. He and Pippa had known it was a long shot going in, but they’d both wanted to give it a chance, for the babies. Or at least that’s what he’d thought, until he’d discovered Pippa wasn’t even sure if he was the biological father.
His gut twisted.
Damn it all, Olivia and Owen were
He studied the woman across from him, wishing he could read her thoughts better, but she held herself in such tight control at all times. Sure, he knew he couldn’t judge all females by how things had shaken down between him and Pippa. But it definitely made him wary. Fool him once, shame on her. Fool him twice. Shame on him.
Alexa Randall was here for one reason only. To use him to jump-start her business. She wasn’t in St. Augustine to play house. She didn’t know, much less love, his kids. She was doing a job. Everybody in this world had an agenda. As long as he kept that knowledge forefront in his mind, they would be fine.
He reached for his seltzer water. “You’re good with kids.”
“Thanks,” she said tightly, stabbing at her pudding.
“Seriously. You’ll make a good mother someday.”
She shook her head and shoved away her half-eaten dessert. “I prefer to have a husband for that and my only attempt at marriage didn’t end well.”
The bitterness in her voice hung between them.
He tipped back his crystal glass, eyeing her over the rim. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
Sighing, she dipped her finger in the water and traced the rim of her glass until the crystal sang. “I married a guy who seemed perfect. He didn’t even care about my family’s money. In fact, he sided with my dad about signing a prenup to prove it.” Faster and faster her finger moved, the pitch growing higher. “After always having to second-guess friendships while growing up, that felt so good—thinking he loved me for myself, unconditionally.”
“That’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“Supposed to. But then, I’m sure you understand what it’s like to have to question everyone’s motives.”
“Not always. I grew up in a regular farming family in North Dakota. Everyone around me had working class values. I spent my spare time camping, fishing or flying.”
“Most of my friends in private school wanted the perks of hanging out with me—shopping trips in New York. For my sixteenth, my mother flew me and my friends to the Bahamas.” She tapped the glass once with a short fingernail. “The ones with parents who could afford the same kind of perks were every bit as spoiled as I was. No wonder I didn’t have any true friends.”
Having to question people’s motives as an adult was tough enough. But worrying as a kid? That could mark a person long-term. He thought of his children asleep in the next room and wondered how he would keep their lives even-keeled.
“So your ex seems like a dream guy with the prenup…and…?”
“His only condition was that I not take any money from my family.” Her eyes took on a faraway, jaded look that bothered him more than it should have for someone he’d just met. “My money could go into trust for our kids someday, but we would live our lives on what we made. Sounded good, honorable.”
“What happened?” He lifted his glass.
“I was allergic to his sperm.”
He choked on his water. “Uh, could you run that by me again?”
“You heard me. Allergic to his swimmers. We can both have kids, just not with each other.” She folded her arms on the edge of the table, leaning closer. “I was sad when the doctor told me, but I figured, hey, this was our call to adopt. Apparently Travis—my ex—didn’t get the same message.”