Czytaj książkę: «The Ceo's Nanny Affair»

One

Tate Harper had eaten deep-fried crickets in Thailand and snacked on guinea pig in Peru. She’d been lost in a jungle in Costa Rica and danced the night away in a run-down cantina in a Rio favela. She’d been propositioned by both rich and poor men in every corner of the world. As the host of a travel program exploring different food cultures, she’d faced some unusual situations in her life.

But nothing gave her the heavyhearted feeling that a meeting with Kari did.

Tate pushed her fist into her sternum and gripped the handle of the door to the diner. It was a wintry Wednesday afternoon in early January, and she’d touched down at JFK just after six that morning. After already having spent the morning with the executive producers of the travel channel she worked for, discussing her options for hosting a new travel series, she was mentally and physically exhausted. She simply didn’t have the energy to deal with her older-in-years-but-still-a-child cousin.

Adopted sister. Whatever the hell Kari was.

Not for the first, or hundredth time, Tate wished that she and Kari were closer, that they were each other’s best friends, but, despite she and Kari sharing the same house since she was eight, they’d never really clicked.

That old familiar wave of resentment twisted Tate’s stomach into knots. She looked down the snow-dusted road and thought about walking away. She was tempted; her life was so much easier without Kari in it. She shook her head. She wasn’t tough enough to ignore Kari’s request to meet, and, while she knew she was risking being disappointed for the umpteenth time, a part of her still hoped that they could establish an emotional connection, be a family. Resigned, she pulled open the door to the diner and stepped into its warmth. She shrugged out of her coat, pulled the floppy burgundy felt hat from her head and looked around the diner for Kari. Because their mothers were identical twins, they looked more alike than most sisters did. They shared the same wavy light brown/dark blond hair and long, lean build, but the last time Tate had seen Kari, she’d dyed her hair platinum and was the proud owner of a new, bigger pair of boobs she’d conned someone—probably a boyfriend—into paying for. They also had the same generous mouths and high cheekbones, but Kari had the twins’ bright blue eyes while Tate inherited her grandfather’s cognac-colored eyes and straight nose.

Not seeing Kari, she caught the attention of a waitress rushing past. “Sorry, excuse me? I’m looking for someone who looks a lot like me. Her text said she was here, waiting for me, but I don’t see her.”

The waitress nodded. “Yeah, she’s sitting at that empty booth. I think she went to the bathroom. Take a seat, she shouldn’t be long.”

Tate thanked her and walked toward the empty booth, her attention caught by a beautiful biracial baby fast asleep in a stroller parked between the booth and the table next to her, where a couple sat. The baby, Tate decided, had hit the genetic jackpot by inheriting the best of her stunning African American dad’s and Nordic mom’s genes.

Sitting down, she nodded at the offer of coffee. Hell, yes, she wanted coffee. She wanted to wrap her freezing hands around a warm mug and gaze out the window, happy to be out of the bitter wind and snow-tinged rain. It had been years since she’d been in the city in the middle of winter, and she’d forgotten how miserable it could get.

Next to her, chairs scraped, and Tate turned to watch as the gorgeous man and his blonde partner stood up, gathering their coats and shopping bags. From their intimate smiles and heated looks, Tate realized that they shared a deep connection. Electricity buzzed between them, and she wrinkled her nose as jealously pricked her soul.

She’d never had a man look at her like she was the reason the earth spun on its axis, the pull of the moon on the tides, the strength of the sun.

You’ve got to be in the game to play it, Harper, Tate quickly reminded herself. But you chose independence, freedom and to live on your isolated island. The consequence of that choice was emotional safety.

And, sadly, the sex life of a nun.

But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t admire a masculine butt in well-fitting jeans. Because he had an A-grade ass, it took Tate a while to realize that they were leaving. Her eyes dropped to the baby still asleep in the stroller, and she shot to her feet. “Hey, wait!”

The couple turned around and they both raised their eyebrows.

Tate gestured to the stroller. “Your baby. You’re leaving without her.”

They responded with frowns and matching is-she-crazy expressions. “That’s not our baby. The lady who was sitting there came in with that baby,” Sexy Guy told her.

Wait! What?

Tate caught the eye of the waitress as ice flooded her veins. “Who came in with this baby?”

Tate was subjected to another she’s-a-nut look. “The woman you asked about, the one who looks like you, she came in with this cutie.”

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Tate fought for air and managed to compose herself long enough to ask the waitress if she’d, please, check the bathroom to see whether Kari was in a stall. Tate’s eyes bounced between the sleeping baby and the small hallway leading to the restrooms, and when the waitress reappeared, biting her lip and shaking her head, Tate started to tremble.

Déjà vu, she thought. She knew, without a fraction of doubt, that Kari had slipped out the door when her back was turned. God, Kari, don’t... Please don’t abandon another of your children. Breeze back through that door, toss me a weak explanation, and we’ll pretend this never happened. Just don’t walk away; please don’t confirm my worst beliefs about you.

Tate turned around to look at the door to the diner and waited for it to open, waited for the world to stop tilting. When a minute passed and then two, she sighed and turned around again. Feeling moisture on her cheeks, she wiped away her tears and blinked furiously. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t fall apart. Taking a deep, calming breath, Tate sent another anxious look to the door, hoping for a miracle.

After ten minutes passed with zero miracles occurring, her shock receded, and air rushed into her lungs, clearing the fog from her brain. Think, dammit. Think. Legally, this child was her niece, and she was responsible for her. As much as she wished she could run away, her mother had already bolted from the diner, and leaving her alone wasn’t an option.

Kari was in the wind... So, what now? Looking down, she saw a diaper bag in the storage area under the stroller, and Tate pulled the heavy sack onto her lap. Resting her arms on the diaper bag, and trying to keep the panic at bay, Tate stared down at the sleeping child.

Angelic, she thought wistfully, because that was the only word that made sense. Her skin was the color of lightly burnt sugar, wispy espresso curls covered her head and her rounded cheeks were pure perfection. The little girl had the wide Harper mouth and pointed chin.

Tate unzipped the diaper bag and peered inside. Seeing a brown envelope flat against the side, Tate pulled it out, her heart hammering. She opened it with shaking fingers, yanked out the papers and slowly flipped through them. There wasn’t much besides inoculation certificates and medical cards and a birth certificate stating that the baby was Ellie Harper, the mother, Kari Harper, and father unknown.

God, Kari. How could you not know who the father was? Or did she know and just decided not to inform the state? The last piece of paper was a letter scrawled in Kari’s handwriting.

Tate,

I know what you are thinking and I don’t blame you. This looks bad; it is bad. I need you to take Ellie. Something has come up and I can’t keep her. You’ll figure out what to do with her.

If you’re freaking out—and you probably are—call Linc Ballantyne, your nephew’s dad. His number is below. Ellie is Shaw’s half sister and he’ll help you out.

I know that you won’t believe this but I do love her.

K.

Her eyes still glued to the letter, Tate shoved her hand into her bag and pulled out her smartphone. Feeling like she had a sumo wrestler sitting on her chest, she entered the phone number and held her breath as she stared down at the small screen.

What was she doing? Linc Ballantyne’s connection to Ellie was tenuous at best—he was Kari’s ex-fiancé and, yes, the father of the now-four-year-old son she’d abandoned. Linc had lived Tate’s current reality four years ago, and maybe he could help her make sense of Kari’s crazy. It wasn’t in her nature to ask for help, but desperate times trumped pride.

Tate lifted the phone and held it to her ear and listened to it ringing. She was transferred from one efficient Ballantyne employee to another before a deep male voice muttered a harsh greeting in her ear. As Linc Ballantyne’s sexy voice rumbled through her, Ellie opened her eyes, and Tate was struck by the burst of bright, cobalt blue.

Kari’s eyes...

“This is Tate Harper, Kari’s sister, and I have a massive problem. Can we meet?”

* * *

Some days, running a multibillion-dollar company gave Linc Ballantyne a splitting headache. Hell, make that most days lately. Needing an aspirin, Linc walked into the middle office separating his and his brother Beck’s office, and, ignoring Amy’s concerned expression, he pulled out a bottle of aspirin from the top drawer of her desk. He tossed two into his mouth and dry swallowed, very used to the bitter taste.

Amy, the executive assistant he and Beck shared, tucked her phone between her neck and ear and reached across her desk to throw Linc an unopened water bottle. He caught it, cracked the lid and looked through the glass walls to see his still-slim, still-pretty mother walking down the hallway and, as he always did, said a quick, silent thank-you to whatever force that had driven her into the arms of Connor Ballantyne.

Well, not his arms—as far as he knew Connor and his mom were never romantically involved—but into his house, at least. Moving into the brownstone known as The Den and meeting the kids who would become his siblings was the best day of his life; losing Connor, the worst.

Linc hurried across the office to open the door to her and bent down to kiss Jo’s cheek.

“Hi.”

“Hello, darling,” Jo replied. Her eyes were gray, like his, but hers were the color of gentle rain while his were a darker, edgier granite. “I’m sorry to drop in on you without warning.”

“That’s never a problem,” Linc assured her.

Jo greeted Amy with a kiss and a hug, and gestured to his office. “Have you a minute for me, Linc?”

“Always.”

In his office Jo sat down as he perched on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest, feeling the burn in his biceps. He’d pushed himself last night, storming through his late-night workout, hoping that the exercise would ensure a good night’s sleep. It had helped somewhat; he’d slept for a solid four hours only to be woken up by Shaw having a nightmare. It had taken an hour to get his son to settle again, and by then he was wide-awake.

“Gary has asked me to move in with him.”

Linc jerked his attention back to his mother, trying to contain his shock. “You want to leave The Den? But why so soon?”

Jo rolled her eyes. “We have been in a relationship for more than six months, Linc, so stop acting like I met him two weeks ago! You like him, you told me so.”

That was before he was encouraging you to move out, Linc silently groused. Every time Jo mentioned Gary, her eyes glowed and her cheeks warmed. If he believed in love and all that crap, he’d say his mom was head over heels in love with the ex-banker. Since he didn’t, he looked past all that and saw two intellectually and socially compatible people who simply enjoyed each other’s company. Truth be told, he still didn’t like the fact that Jo was choosing Gary over Shaw, the grandson she’d been helping Linc raise since he was six weeks old.

“I think that we’ll marry eventually, but I—” Jo continued, rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “I’ve lived in The Den for twenty-five years and I love it, but now I want my own home, Linc. I want a place that’s all mine, and we want to travel.” His mom lifted worried eyes to his. “You know I love Shaw and I was happy to help you when he was a baby because, frankly, you needed the assistance. I still want to help out but—”

“But you don’t want to do it every day,” Linc said and Jo nodded.

Linc cursed. Bad time to defect, Mom! He had a massive company to run and grow. They were rebranding the business, he was considering investing in a diamond mine in Botswana, they had a strike looming at a mine in Colombia, they were opening new stores in Abu Dhabi and Barcelona, refurbishing stores in Hong Kong, LA and Tokyo.

His business life was ridiculously busy and consistently stressful, and he was only able to do what he did because he didn’t have to worry about Shaw. His home life ran like clockwork: he took Shaw to pre-K, Jo picked him up and spent the afternoon and early evening with him, feeding and bathing him if he was running late. It worked so damn well because he trusted his mom implicitly, and he never worried about his son’s emotional and physical welfare. She was irreplaceable.

“I’ve been looking after kids for so long.” Jo shrugged, lifting delicate shoulders. “I’m nearly sixty, Linc. I want to have some fun, take a break, travel. Have a glass of wine at lunchtime if I feel like it. I’m tired, Linc. Can you understand that?”

Linc stood up and walked to the window, conscious of his accelerated heartbeat and his constricted throat. He hated change, especially in his personal life, and now she’d thrown him for a total loop. Keep calm and think it through. As a father of a mischievous four-year-old and as the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, keeping his head while everyone else was losing theirs was how he navigated his life.

He’d had a lot of practice at being the calm port everyone ran to in a storm. When he was eleven, Jo had secured the position to be Connor Ballantyne’s housekeeper and to help him look after his orphaned nephews and niece. His mom told Linc to keep out of the Ballantynes’ ways, but Connor, with his huge heart and lack of snobbery, insisted that if they were going to live in The Den, then they had to live in The Den. They all ate and played together, and Linc attended the same expensive school as Jaeger and Beck. He read in the library, slid down the banister and peppered the magnificent chandelier in the foyer with spitballs.

To his utter surprise and delight, Connor embraced Linc’s presence at The Den, and he never once felt like a third wheel. Maybe that was because Jaeger, Beck and Sage latched onto him, and though he’d been a kid himself, a little less than a year older than Jaeger, he somehow became the person they’d gravitated to. For more than a quarter of a century, he’d been the glue holding the Ballantynes together, and while Beck helped him run Ballantyne International and all four of them held equal shares in the company, he was—despite the fact that he was not a Ballantyne by blood—the leader of the pack.

Linc didn’t mind. When he formally adopted the four of them when Linc turned sixteen, Connor made it clear that Linc was the oldest child, that he expected him to look after his siblings, to look after the company, to do him proud.

He had no intention of disappointing the only father he’d ever really known. But Shaw’s welfare was his first priority, always. How could he place his son’s care in the hands of a stranger? How was he supposed to run this company, nurture and grow it, if he was worried about whether his son was receiving the same attention at home?

Linc opened his mouth to throw himself at her mercy and ask for a time extension but then immediately snapped it shut. As much as he hated change, he couldn’t put his needs above Jo’s. Especially since she’d dedicated the past thirty-five years putting him first.

Crap. Having integrity sucked.

He turned and forced himself to smile. “So, what do you suggest I do?”

Linc saw the shock and relief in her eyes, ashamed to realize that she’d expected him to argue. “You need a live-in nanny.”

Ack. A stranger in his house, looking after his kid. Shoot him now.

“I’ll contact the most reputable agencies and select a few for you to interview,” Jo said before lifting her eyebrows. “Or do you want to do this yourself?”

Linc shuddered. “No, thanks. I’d rather shower with acid.”

His mom cocked her head. “You know what you need, don’t you? More than a nanny?”

Sex? A decent night’s sleep? A skiing vacation with lots of sex and lots of sleep?

“You need a wife,” Jo empathetically stated.

Linc shot her a glare. He so didn’t. Once upon a time he’d nearly acquired one of those and lost her two weeks before they were supposed to say “I do.” For the past four years he’d managed perfectly well without a wife. But he’d had Jo’s help... Dammit.

“I’ve heard all the reasons why you’re not interested, Linc. Women are fickle, untrustworthy, they just want your money or the Ballantyne name. Et cetera...et cetera.”

“Mom.” Linc closed his eyes, looking through the glass wall in Amy’s direction. He had a full day ahead, multibillion-dollar decisions to make, and he did not need to talk about his crappy love life. Amy, as she often did, suddenly lifted her head and met his eyes.

“Help me,” he mouthed.

“Amy’s not going to bail you out,” Jo said, not bothering to turn around to look at his assistant. “Besides, she and I agree that you need someone in your life.”

“Like I need a needle in my eye,” Linc muttered, mouthing “You’re fired” at Amy. His assistant just grinned and turned back to her monitor.

“You need someone to challenge you, to make you laugh, to make you think. Someone interesting and independent and smart,” his mom insisted.

Why were they even discussing this? Thanks to his ex-fiancée, Kari, he was now determined not to risk his heart, and especially not his son’s, on another woman. They were fine on their own. They had to be because there wasn’t a woman alive who was worth taking a chance on. He’d learned that lesson well. “Mom, I have work to do. I don’t have time to dissect my love life or my relationship with my crazy ex.”

Jo stood up and pushed a finger into his chest. “You need to start dating again.”

Linc shuddered. Hell to the no. Time to move on. And he could only do that if he deflected the conversation onto one of his siblings. “Talking about relationships, Cady is in Beck’s office, right now.”

Jo’s eyes immediately brightened with curiosity. “Cady? Is she back?”

Linc put a hand on her shoulder and gently directed her to the door. “Amy will explain it to you. I need to get back to work.”

Jo glared at him as he reached around her to open the door. “You just don’t want to discuss your love life anymore.”

“I don’t have a love life,” Linc corrected, bending down to kiss her cheek. “And I like it that way.”

Jo tossed another hot look his way before addressing Amy. “He needs to date.”

“I know,” Amy answered without missing a beat, her fingers dancing over her keyboard. “I’m working on it.”

“You’re working on nothing,” Linc retorted, “because I freakin’ fired you!”

Amy rolled her eyes at Jo, who smiled.

“You’re delusional, Linc. We all know that Connor left me in charge. Hold that thought,” Amy told him, before answering a call. She listened for a minute before lifting suddenly serious eyes to meet Linc’s.

“It’s Tate Harper and she needs to speak to you. It’s private and, in her words, it’s pretty damn urgent.”

* * *

Linc glanced at his Rolex and glared at the imposing front door of The Den, his brownstone just off Park Avenue that had been in the Ballantyne family more than a century. In the four years since Kari bolted—taking two of his credit cards and her flawless yellow diamond engagement ring with her—he’d had precisely zero contact with the Harper family. He knew that Kari had been adopted by her aunt and had a cousin she’d been raised with, but she had hardly spoken about them.

They certainly hadn’t been invited to their wedding, and, at the time, Linc had thought that there was bad blood between them. Now he knew that Kari hadn’t bothered with wedding invitations because she’d never intended to marry him. He would’ve saved himself a bundle in both time and money if the damned woman had let him in on that little secret.

He once thought that she wanted what he did; a home, a family, a traditional family life together, but Kari had run from the life he’d offered her. Most shocking of all, she’d also relinquished all parental rights to Shaw. When she did that he assumed that all connections to Kari and her family were permanently severed, so he couldn’t understand why Tate needed to see him.

And why he’d ever agreed to meet with her was equally confounding. But he’d heard something in her voice, a note of panic and deep, deep sorrow. Maybe something had happened to Kari, and, if so, he needed to know what. She was still Shaw’s mother, after all.

Linc heard the light rap on the door and sucked in a breath.

The first thought he had when he opened his front door to Tate Harper and raked his eyes over her was that he wanted her. Under him, on top of him, up against the nearest wall...anyway he could have her, he’d take her. That thought was immediately followed by, Oh, crap, not again.

Kari had been a stunning woman, but her beauty, as he knew—and paid for—had taken work. But the woman standing behind the stroller was effortlessly gorgeous. Her hair was a riot of blond and brown, eyes the color of his favorite whiskey under arched eyebrows and her skin, makeup-free, was flawless. This Harper’s beauty was all natural and, dammit, so much more potent. Linc, his hand on the doorknob, took a moment to draw in some much-needed air.

He scanned her face again, unable to stop drinking in her dazzling beauty. The rational part of his brain wanted him to tell Tate Harper that he had nothing to say to her, no help to offer and that he and Shaw did not need the aggravation dealing with a Harper almost always caused.

The rest of him, led by his very neglected libido—he was a super busy single dad who rarely had time to chase tail—wanted to start stripping off her clothes to unveil what he assumed was a very delectable body.

“Tate? Come on in.”

She pushed the stroller into the hall, holding the bar with a white-knuckle grip. Linc, wincing at the realization that he was allowing a whole bunch of trouble to walk through his front door, was about to rescind his invitation for her to step into his home and his life. Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes and gauged her terror, her complete and utter dismay, and her-what-the-hell-did-I-do-to-deserve-this expression.

She’d jumped into the ring with Kari and had the crap kicked out of her, Linc realized. And, for some reason, she thought he could help her clean up the mess. And, because his first instinct was to protect, to make things right, he wanted to wipe the fear from Tate’s eyes.

God, he was such a flippin’ asshat.

Annoyed with himself, Linc turned his attention to the occupant in the stroller... Ten or eleven months old, he guessed, clean and well fed. And cute, man, she was cute. He loved kids, and this adorable little one, with those bright blue eyes looking up at him, was born charming. He recognized those lapis lazuli eyes; they were Kari’s eyes and this was Kari’s kid.

But if this was Kari’s kid, then why was Tate on his doorstep with her?

Her hands tightened around the bar of the stroller, no color left in her face. She read the question in his eyes and slowly nodded, devastation glimmering in her eyes as she confirmed his worst suspicions. “She was there, at the place we had arranged to meet. She must have seen me arrive and slipped out when I linked Ellie to her.”

Linc placed his hands on his hips and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. He swore quietly, before returning his gaze back to Tate, who was rocking on her heels. “So, what do you want from me?”

Because I know what I want from you and that’s to unbutton that blouse, slide it off your sexy shoulders and feel your silky skin beneath my hands, your made-for-sin mouth fusing with mine. I want to know the shape of your breasts, dig my fingers into the skin of your ass...

Sex? That’s where his head went after her shocking statement. What the hell?

For God’s sake, Ballantyne, get a freakin’ grip! Why, after all the crap Kari had put him through, did he have the hots for her sister?

Linc rubbed the back of his neck. “I need coffee. Would you like a cup?”

“Only if you don’t poison it. Or spit in it.”

Linc felt his lips twitch and fought a smile. So, she had a bit of a mouth on her. Back in the world he normally lived in, the one that made sense, Linc didn’t mind sassy women. There was nothing more annoying than someone who agreed with everything he said, so desperate to please. He’d dated quite of few of them.

He didn’t like this woman, he reminded himself sternly; he didn’t have any intention of liking her, ever. They were going to have coffee, a conversation, and, hopefully, in ten minutes he’d be back at his desk and life would return to normal.

He looked down into the stroller again. “What’s her name?”

“In her letter, Kari calls her Ellie.”

“Pretty name,” Linc said, undoing the harness that kept Ellie in the stroller. He picked her up and placed her on his hip, his arm around her little butt. God, it felt weird, but almost right, to have a baby in his arms again. He’d always wanted a big family, tons of kids. But, since babies usually came with a mother and that species came with complications and drama, he was resigned to being a one-child dad. And that child was pretty damn cool...

“Follow me.” Linc led Tate through the second floor of the brownstone and hit the stairs leading to the garden level. Stepping into the large open-plan room, he walked into his, and Shaw’s, favorite area of the brownstone—the living room that flowed out from the kitchen and informal eating area. It held long, comfortable couches, a large-screen TV, books and Shaw’s toys. Massive French doors led to the enclosed garden with pots of herbs and garden furniture. The rest of The Den held priceless art and rare antiques, but this room was functional, lived-in and cozy.