“It’s time we acted like a real couple.”

Crackling with electricity, she averted her gaze. Afraid of … she didn’t know what, but AJ made her uncomfortable. His confidence, his strength, his wealth intimidated her. Two people couldn’t be more different. “But there’s no one around to see us.”

“If you can’t be comfortable with me close to you, touching you, we’ll never be able to pull this off with an audience.” He stroked her skin, sending her pulse rate climbing. “Is this so bad?”

“No.” Her hand snuggled against his, their fingers laced together in a natural way. Though she’d die before admitting that.

“If we’re going to sell being a couple, there’s something else we need to practice. Kissing in public.”

Her heart slammed against her chest. “You want to kiss me now?”

“Holding hands worked. Kissing seems the next logical step.”

AJ’s lips touched hers. Soft. Warm. Yummy.

Remember, he’s not your boyfriend.

But the truth was so easy to forget when the kiss felt this good.

The Billionaire’s

Nanny

Melissa McClone

www.millsandboon.co.uk

With a degree in mechanical engineering from Stanford University, the last thing MELISSA McCLONE ever thought she would be doing was writing romance novels. But analyzing engines for a major US airline just couldn’t compete with her happily-ever-afters. When she isn’t writing, caring for her three young children or doing laundry, Melissa loves to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea, her cats and a good book. She enjoys watching home decorating shows to get ideas for her house—a 1939 cottage that is slowly being renovated. Melissa lives in Lake Oswego, Oregon, with her own real-life-hero husband, two daughters, a son, two lovable but oh-so-spoiled indoor cats and a no-longer-stray outdoor kitty that has decided to call the garage home.

Melissa loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 63, Lake Oswego, OR 97034, USA, or contact her via her website, www.melissamcclone.com.

To the authors, readers and friends who helped me save Miss Mousie, a foster cat, who now has a forever home with us.

Special thanks to Sarah for sparking an idea about a nanny heroine, and Lisa Hayden, Terri Reed and Teresa Morgan.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Mmmeorrrrrooooowwwrrrrreeee.”

The cat’s mournful they-left-me-here-to-die wail grated on Emma Markwell’s frazzled nerves. She wiped her sticky palms on her serviceable knee-length gray skirt. Her gaze dropped to the cat carrier on the floor of the small airport catering to corporate and private planes in Hillsboro, Oregon. “I know you don’t want to be here. Me, either. But we’ll be on our way to Haley’s Bay soon.”

Blossom hissed. The sound echoed across the waiting area.

Emma’s shoulders were hunched, as if she could hide from the people looking at her. But with the slasher movie sounds spewing from the she devil in the cat carrier, no one would ignore them now.

Perspiration dampened the back of Emma’s neck. The brown plait of French braid felt heavy and sticky. If she wasn’t careful, anxiety might create a perspiration crisis before she set foot on the private jet. Not good. She wanted to meet her new boss, Atticus Jackson “AJ” Cole, looking professional—a perfect temporary personal assistant—not show up on his plane smelly and wet.

So what if she hadn’t flown in five years, two months and seventeen days? The flight to AJ’s hometown in Washington, where the Columbia River met the Pacific Ocean, would be short. Time to pull herself together. Blossom, too. Emma peered into the crate.

The eight-year-old orange tabby’s backside greeted her. The cat’s tail trembled.

Poor kitty. Last night, Blossom’s first at Emma’s studio apartment in southeast Portland, hadn’t gone well. The foster cat had shredded two rolls of toilet paper. Now the cat stared at the crate wall as if she were in a time-out. Adjusting to a new environment was difficult when you were alone in the world. Emma had been old enough to understand what being a foster kid meant and learned to adapt, unlike this frightened feline.

She reached toward the carrier’s door. Sixteen years without any family to rely on and six years being a nanny made her an expert caretaker, no matter what the age or species of her charge. “Hey, no worries. I won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

The cat responded with a banshee yowl. Three men in business suits glared. A woman pressed her lips together and narrowed her gaze.

Emma rubbed her fingertips along the strand of fake pearls hanging over the neckline of her pink short-sleeved sweater set. She leaned closer to the crate’s door. “You might not agree, but traveling with me is your best option. Otherwise, you’d be stuck in a metal cage at a vet’s office while they repair the shelter. Kitten season means foster homes are full of little ones. I called each and every person on the foster list to see if they had room.”

None did. With such short notice, no pet sitter was available. That meant Blossom was coming along with Emma.

Traveling was difficult for animals, but especially cats. Still, the shelter director thought flying by a private jet and staying with Emma, who Blossom tolerated unlike the other shelter volunteers, would be less stressful than being crated at a clinic.

A name sounded over the PA system. Not Emma’s. Her relief was palpable.

A man with salt-and-pepper hair and a black messenger bag swung over his shoulder walked toward the door.

“Not our turn, Blossom.”

Thank goodness. Emma glanced around the waiting area full of orange upholstered chairs. People sat, working on tablets or laptops. Others stood, talking or texting on cell phones. No one looked nervous about flying. She hoped she didn’t. She crossed her fingers.

Always appear cool and confident even if you’re not, an instructor had told the class at the Rose City Nanny Academy. Emma lived by those words whether she was rushing bleeding or sick kids to the ER, speaking about a child’s behavior on behalf of a parent with a school principal or giving statements in custody battles. Today should be no different. Not should, would.

A security guard passed in front of her. A chain jiggled from his belt loop.

Blossom hissed.

“Stupid cat,” he muttered, walking away with a disapproving look.

“Stop acting like a grumpy diva,” Emma said to the cat. Blossom’s antisocial behavior had kept her from being shown at any of the Portland Paws Rescue’s adoption events. However, the cat did better one-on-one. “No one wants an unfriendly kitty. And you don’t want to spend the rest of your life at the cattery. Being in a forever home with a loving family would be so much better for you.”

She dreamed of owning a home and having a family herself. She would take care of her own house and children, not be an employee who never quite fit in or belonged. Someday...

Libby Hansen’s catchy ringtone sounded.

Emma grabbed her phone and hit Answer, eager to talk to her best friend recovering in a New York hospital. “How are you?”

“I could be better.”

Her pulse accelerated. “Complications from the ruptured appendix?”

“I wish.” Libby’s voice sounded dry, scratchy. “A smokin’ hot resident made rounds today. He didn’t give me a second glance. All he cared about was reading my chart.”

Emma released the breath she’d been holding. “He was wowed speechless by your beauty.”

“I look like a zombie from a high school kid’s horror movie project. Enough about me. You’re at the airport, right?”

“I’m here with Blossom.” Libby and her parents were Emma’s final foster family, the closest thing she had to living relatives. She would take Libby’s place as a personal assistant for the next five days, even fly, to give her friend the rest and recovery time she needed. “Attila hasn’t arrived yet.”

Libby sucked in a breath. “Don’t you dare call AJ that to his face.”

Emma hadn’t met Libby’s boss, but the nickname fit the photographs she’d seen of AJ. Over six feet with a beard, he looked more like a conquering warrior than computer geek turned billionaire. Libby described her boss as gorgeous. The guy might be attractive with a hot body, but Emma had never been a fan of tall, dark and dangerous men with facial hair. “You call him Attila.”

“Only when I’m hungry or PMSing or overworked.”

Libby sounded exhausted. But recovering from emergency surgery while on a business trip to the East Coast would wear a person out. “So that leaves what? Two days a month?”

“Ha. Ha. AJ’s a good boss who pays me extremely well.”

“A good boss does not wake you up in the middle of the night to order flowers for his woman du jour. Or make you spend Christmas on an airplane instead of with your family. Or put his interview on CNBC ahead of your abdominal pains. All that money he pays you is worthless if you’re dead.”

“Hey, I’m very much alive.”

No thanks to Mr. Atticus Jackson Cole. The what-ifs surrounding Libby’s appendix turned Emma’s stomach into enough knots to make a Boy Scout proud. “I’m thankful you’re alive.”

“I’m thankful you’re filling in for me on such short notice.” Libby, who focused on what her boss might need before he realized he needed something, didn’t miss a beat. Even when connected to an IV and on painkillers. “Did you have a shot of tequila?”

“It’s still morning.”

“Remember what happened when we flew to Mexico?”

“Of course.” Flying for the first time on a spring break trip to Puerto Vallarta had nearly turned into a one-way trip. Boarding a plane...no big deal. Accelerating along the runway...no big deal. Feeling weightless when the wheels lifted off the tarmac... Emma tapped her toe, a race-walk patter catching up to her marathon-run pulse. “Well, except for the flight home. You got me so drunk I passed out before the plane left the gate.”

“I did that on purpose, and my plan worked. You didn’t throw up. Go down a shot. For medicinal purposes. You need to settle your nerves for the flight.”

Getting drunk at ten in the morning on the first day of a new job wasn’t an option today. Emma would have to tough out the flight without alcohol. She’d survived worse, right? “My nerves are fine.”

“Your voice sounds an octave higher.”

“Bad connection.”

“I hope so, because AJ’s jet just landed.”

The phone slid from Emma’s sweat-slicked hand. She tightened her grip. “How do you know that?”

“I’m paid to know these things.” Libby’s words had a sharp edge, the way she sounded when handling a rare mishap. “But don’t worry. The majority of your work will be party planning. But you might have to remind AJ that he’s on vacation.”

Libby’s new tone and her old tales told Emma that caring for a dozen kids in training pants running with open pots of finger paints might be easier than assisting one billionaire while he tried to relax on a trip to his hometown. “I can’t believe I’m going to be doing your job.”

“You’re perfect. You’ve dealt with angst-ridden teens, tweens with horrible attitudes, tantrum-throwing kindergartners, pampered preschoolers and toddlers with death wishes. You can handle anything, including AJ.”

“I don’t know about that.” Emma watched a little girl carrying a stuffed dog and her mother talking into a cell phone walk into the restroom. “A bachelor billionaire with no kids doesn’t need me.”

“AJ needs you.” Certainty filled Libby’s voice. “Don’t let his type A personality get to you. Billionaires aren’t that different from toddlers except they know how to use silverware and occasional manners. Sometimes. Trust me, they need direction and supervision.”

“You’d think he could pull together his grandmother’s birthday party.”

“AJ doesn’t make his own dinner reservations,” Libby said matter-of-factly. “Arranging his grandmother’s soiree on his own is out of the question.”

Emma’s insides twisted. “Soiree sounds fancier than a party.”

“Semantics. Stop worrying. You threw a spectacular birthday party for the twins.”

Abbie and Annie. Cute six-year-old twins Emma had cared for the past year.

Trey Lundberg. Their handsome, widowed father who was about as perfect as a dad could be.

A weight pressed against Emma’s chest. She’d stopped working for Trey three months ago. He’d made his personal interest in her clear and suggested they go out without the girls. Everything Emma wanted—a family of her own and the house with the white picket fence—had been within her grasp. But something had felt off. The idea of a ready-made family appealed to her, but Trey was still grieving the loss of his wife. Any feelings he had for Emma couldn’t be real. Not that soon after burying the mother of his children. The more Emma had thought about going after her dreams with Trey, the more wrong doing so had felt. So she quit.

She shifted the phone to her other ear. “The twins were easy. They’re little.”

“AJ’s grandmother is little. Barely five feet tall from what I’ve heard.”

Emma sighed. “Libby.”

“What? You have all the skills needed for my job. I could never do yours because of the crud and ick factor.”

True. Libby didn’t do crud or ick. She moved ten feet away from people who sneezed. She used two napkins during meals. She carried hand sanitizer at all times.

Emma never minded the messes kids made. Holding tissues during nose blowing. Wiping jelly spots off Abbie’s cheeks. Helping Annie change her sheets before anyone noticed her wet bed.

A lump formed in Emma’s throat, pressed upward. No regrets. She couldn’t work for the Lundbergs when she didn’t have the same feelings for Trey as he had for her. She’d helped find her replacement, trained the new nanny and told the girls to call if they needed anything...anytime.

A wistful, but not unexpected, sigh escaped. She wanted to find that special someone who would take care of her the way she took care of everybody else. Too bad happily-ever-after endings happened only in storybooks, not real life.

Emma cleared her throat. “The cruddy stuff isn’t so bad. There’s lots of fun to be had on the playground, believe it or not.”

Except on the swings. She hated swings.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Libby said.

Emma’s name sounded over the PA system. Every muscle group bunched, including ones she’d never met. Her stomach jangled, a mix of worry and trepidation.

She’d ridden enough elevators and carnival rides to know her tummy’s reaction to weightlessness. Antigravity was her proven enemy, its falling sensation her greatest fear.

She blew out a puff of air. “Time to go.”

“Good luck, not that you need it.”

She swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Have a good flight.”

The line disconnected.

Emma tucked her phone into her tote bag, hand trembling. She swung the leather strap over her shoulder then picked up the cat carrier. “Here we go, Blossom.”

The cat’s snarl sounded like a combination of moan, hiss and spit. An omen of things to come? Emma hoped not.

* * *

The jet taxied on the tarmac in Hillsboro, Oregon. Except for a slight movement of AJ’s tablet on the table in front of his seat and a glance out the window, he wouldn’t have realized they’d landed. Not surprising. His flight crew consisted of top-notch, former military pilots. AJ never worried what was happening in the cockpit. But he was worried about the stranger, a nanny with a cat, who would be his assistant for the next five days. AJ rubbed his chin.

Emma is my best friend. She’s smart and conscientious. A hard worker. She doesn’t like to fly, but trust me. She’s the perfect person, the only person, to take my place while you’re in Haley’s Bay.

Libby had been his personal assistant for two years. He had no reason to doubt her. Relying on her recommendation made more sense than yanking an employee away from other duties or hiring an untested temp from a service. A nanny should be able to follow directions, entertain his brother Ellis’s kids at their grandmother’s birthday party and, most importantly, deal with AJ’s family. He wasn’t a fan of cats, but he hoped the feline would be a distraction. The more attention his family gave the cat, the less they would give AJ. A win-win situation for all involved. Mostly him.

Dad wouldn’t say much, if anything, unless forced to talk by Mom. The man would never forgive AJ for leaving Haley’s Bay and the family business after graduating from college. The fact that he’d bailed out the fishing company during the economic downturn had only made his father resent AJ more. As if he’d had any other choice.

What was he supposed to do? See his family bankrupt and out of work, especially Ellis with a wife and two kids? No way. AJ had the means. Not helping would have been worse. Unthinkable.

He would never apologize to his father or anyone in his family for choosing to make billions with a computer instead of breaking his back working on a boat. AJ regretted nothing. He doubted his dad could say the same thing, if Jack Cole ever decided to talk to his oldest son again.

AJ wasn’t sure how his four younger brothers would react to his being home. Only Grady, the youngest of the family, kept in touch. At least AJ wouldn’t have to worry about the female members of the Cole family.

The Cole women would welcome him home with smiles and hugs. His grandmother, mom and two sisters called, texted, Skyped and visited him as much as they could. Though the four would likely be butting their noses into his life and asking much too personal questions while he was there. His stomach tightened.

Why had he wanted to come back? Oh, yeah. His grandmother’s eightieth birthday.

An alarm sounded. The buzzing filled the cabin and made him glance at his tablet.

A message illuminated the screen. Conference Call—Marketing Department. Libby must have set his clock when he said goodbye at the hospital. The woman was the definition of competent, vital to his success for keeping his life running smoothly.

If only Libby were here with him. Damn appendix. Striking her down in New York. He balled his hands. AJ couldn’t believe Libby had hidden her condition from him until it was almost too late. A foolish move, but one done out of loyalty to him. She knew how much he relied upon her. Or had until leaving him stuck with a nanny from Portland, Oregon.

If AJ didn’t know better, he would think his father planned this. But nothing, not a hospitalized assistant or a cat-carrying nanny, would stop AJ from showing his family how far he’d come. Nothing was going to stop him from making a triumphant return to Haley’s Bay.

Nothing at all.

* * *

Emma stepped outside the terminal, a sunny August sky overhead. Flying was safer during good weather, right?

But the roar of engines weighted her feet like chimney bricks.

For Libby. Step by dragged step, Emma crossed the tarmac toward a new-looking jet. Her heart pounded in her throat.

For Libby. Emma clasped the jet’s railing. Her legs trembled—don’t stumble—and she forced herself to climb the short staircase, one step, then another, followed by two more.

For Libby. Emma stepped into the plane. The hair on the back of her neck and arms prickled, ramrod straight beneath her sweater.

Noise from planes taking off and landing faded. Air-conditioning cooled her skin. The jet’s interior muted tones exuded calm comfort. The plush carpet and cushioned chairs were a hundred and eighty degrees different from flying on a packed 737 with zero legroom and no empty seats. This time might be different.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Markwell.” An attractive woman with long blond hair, a light blue blouse and navy slacks greeted her with a bright, white-tooth smile. “I’m Camille. I’ll be your flight attendant today.”

“Hi, I’m Emma.” She forced a first impression smile and raised the cat carrier, welcoming the distraction. “Is there a place this should go?”

“I have the perfect spot.” Camille took the carrier. “What’s your cat’s name?”

“Not my cat. She’s a foster. Long story. But her name is Blossom. Thank you.”

Camille peered into the carrier. “Hello, Blossom.”

The cat’s growl, a hair-raising, guttural sound, made Emma cringe.

Eyes wide, the flight attendant drew back. Her at-your-service smile faltered. She lifted the carrier away from her body as if radioactive waste filled the inside, then tipped her head to her left. “AJ’s in the cabin.”

“Thank you.”

Emma passed between two forward-facing leather-covered captain’s chairs. Each seat contained a television screen and game controller. The understated look was more luxurious man cave than flashy flaunt of wealth.

The next row faced backward. Someone with a head of thick brown hair occupied the seat to her left.

Attila. Atticus. AJ. This had to be him.

Libby thought the world of her boss, when she wasn’t complaining about AJ. She described him as exacting. “Workaholic” was how Emma imagined him, based on how many hours he kept Libby working. And prompt. Libby said he would fire a manager if a project went over schedule, break up with a woman if she arrived late for a date and eviscerate a chef if forced to wait between courses.

Not everything Emma had heard about AJ Cole was awful. He paid employees well, was a philanthropist and doted on his grandmother, who visited him in Seattle at least once a month. The guy couldn’t be all bad if he was throwing his grandma an eightieth birthday party—make that a soiree.

Voices sounded. Three or four.

Emma didn’t see anyone else on board. She stepped closer.

The brown-haired man sat with a tablet in front of him. Three other faces appeared on the screen. One, a woman, spoke about branding.

Emma glanced from the tablet to her temporary boss. Whoa. A six-foot-plus mass of male hotness sat in the seat. A guy with no beard.

She blinked. Refocused. Still hot. Definitely AJ. She recognized his intense green eyes from the photographs.

Yum. Libby called her boss a nice piece of eye candy, but now that Emma was standing next to AJ Cole, he seemed more like a five-pound box of gourmet chocolates. Mouthwateringly delicious.

His gray suit jacket, expertly tailored, accentuated straight, wide shoulders. Unruly brown hair, curly at the ends, fringed the starched collar of his white dress shirt. His ruggedly handsome features fit perfectly together, making her heart accelerate like a car on a racetrack.

His smoldering gaze met hers.

Her throat tightened. She wished he hadn’t shaved his beard so she wouldn’t find him attractive. Then again, she still might. A photograph couldn’t capture the 3-D version of the living, breathing man.

He motioned with his finger to the seat facing him. A small table separated the two chairs.

Emma removed the tote bag strap from her shoulder and sat. She ignored the conversation from the conference chat, not wanting to eavesdrop. She pressed each button to see what it did. Peering inside the pouch on the side of her seat, she saw a barf bag. She hoped she wouldn’t need it.

The decibel level of the conference call rose. Voices talked over one another. Not quite a debate, but a lively discussion.

Her gaze fell on AJ’s face. Talk about stunning. He laughed at a joke, softening the planes, angles and lines of his face. She focused on his mouth, zeroed in on his lips. Bet he was a good kisser.

What in the world was she doing? Thinking? AJ wasn’t only her boss. He was also Libby’s boss.

Emma looked at her lap. The seat belt ends lay on either side of her. She fastened the buckle and tightened the strap, as if the pressure could squeeze out her nonsensical thoughts before she embarrassed Libby and herself.

So what if the real-life AJ Cole was more attractive than his photographs? He was her boss, not a random guy she could flirt with at Starbucks then breeze out the door without a look back. Besides, he wasn’t her type. She preferred a family man. Not a guy who, according to Libby, hadn’t visited his family in ten years.

“Don’t do that.” AJ’s hard tone made Emma jump. “If any of you disturb Libby while I’m away, you won’t have a job when I return. Understood?”

Not so bad. Emma hadn’t expected him to stick up for Libby.

“See you on Monday,” he added.

The words Don’t bother me were implied.

He tucked his tablet into the side pocket of his seat. “Emma Markwell.”

His deep voice flowed through her veins like warm maple syrup. She fought the urge to melt into her seat. “Hello, Mr. Cole. It’s nice to meet you.”

His critical gaze ran the length of her, scrutinizing, as if she were a line of bad computer code wreaking havoc with his program. This was the man she expected minus the gorgeous face and athletic physique.

“Libby tells me you’re a Martha Stewart–Mary Poppins mash-up, able to master home, hearth and heathen children.”

“I don’t have anything magical to pull out of my tote bag, but I do have a few modern-day equivalents for tricks and can spell supercalifragilisticexpialidocious backward.” Something she’d learned being the nanny of a gifted child one summer.

“So you have no magic, but you brought a homeless cat.”

His eyes were flat, no glint of humor or spark of amusement. Was this the intimidator Libby told Emma to ignore?

“Libby assured me that bringing Blossom was acceptable.” Emma’s voice sounded hoarse. She cleared her throat.

“If it was a problem I would have hired you a cat sitter.” He shrugged off his suit jacket, tossed it onto the seat across the aisle, then buckled his seat belt. “My niece, nephew and cousins’ children will play with the cat. Just keep the beast away from me.”

“Allergic?”

“No.”

Camille picked up the jacket, glanced at the seat belts fastened across their laps, then headed to the front of the jet.

The silence made Emma bristle, reminding her of the impending takeoff. She needed to distract herself. “Not a fan of cats?”

His lips narrowed, reducing their kissability factor by 70 percent. Not that she would ever kiss him.

“If you must know, they’re pampered, vile creatures. I don’t see the appeal.”

His good looks had sparked an initial attraction, but his fire-extinguishing personality was making sure no flames erupted. She, as his employee, should let his words drop and discuss what her job responsibilities would be. But the cat lover in her couldn’t do that. Nor could the friend in her, either. His lack of warmth and understanding he displayed with the cat probably also translated to his overworking Libby to the point of her almost dying.

“Blossom is not a pampered cat, Mr. Cole. Her owner died. The family didn’t want to be bothered so surrendered the cat to an animal control facility in California. She ended up on a kill list. The shelter I volunteer for in Portland stepped in to rescue her. Blossom lived with thirty-five other cats until the space flooded yesterday. She had to come with me as a foster or spend the next week in a metal cage at a vet’s office.”

“Not pampered.” He sounded more amused than irritated. “I stand corrected.”

“Thank you for admitting that.”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

Libby had said AJ didn’t like being wrong. Emma didn’t want to annoy him or upset him, but she had more to say. She scraped her teeth across her lower lip. “I’ve said too much.”

“Perhaps, but I’d like to know.”

Libby had told Emma to do what he requested without asking too many questions. But this probably wasn’t what her friend meant.

“Go on,” he urged.

“Well...I’m sorry, but you’re wrong about cats. They’re intelligent, independent and inquisitive. They’re amazing pets and have made innumerable people happier for their company.”

His eyes widened, then narrowed. He pressed his steepled hands against his lips.

Uh-oh. He didn’t seem to like her answer. “Remember, you wanted to know,” she reminded.

“I did.” He lowered his hands. “Are you as passionate about the children you care for as felines?”

“Yes.”

“Do you express your views with their parents as you have with me?”

Emma wasn’t about to lie. She raised her chin. “If warranted.”

“What is their response?”

“In one case, I was let go.”

“Fired for speaking your mind?”

“I wasn’t hired to spout my opinions,” she admitted. “But by that point, the only reason I hadn’t quit was the children. I was staying on for their sake.”

A closed-mouth smile curved his lips. “Lucky kids to have you on their side.”

He didn’t sound upset. That surprised her. “I do my best, but I expect kids to behave, so maybe they aren’t so lucky to have me.”

“What happens if they don’t behave?”

“Depends on the child. Some kids need to talk it through. Be heard. Others don’t understand why they act out.” Emma’s ability to read people had helped her survive in one foster home after another, but she couldn’t read Mr. Cole. A billionaire shouldn’t be interested in her job as a nanny. Maybe one of his colleagues needed to hire child care. “With certain children, more tangible consequences like a time-out or chores are necessary. But I prefer using kindness and a loving hand if at all possible.”

“What will my consequence be?”

“Yours?”

“If I misbehave.”

Playful images of how he might misbehave flitted through her mind. Unwelcome ones. Ones that made her cheeks burn. “I...I’m your personal assistant. Not your nanny.”

“If you were my nanny.”

Emma would have to resign due to naughty thoughts. Wrong answer. She cupped the side of her neck with her palm, shaken by her reaction to the sudden change in him. Her skin didn’t feel warm to the touch. Maybe only her cheeks were red. But a blush was too much. “Mr. Cole—”

“AJ.” His smile, full of sex appeal and devilish charm, stole her breath. “We’re going to be working together for the next five days. Putting on a birthday party and surrounded by my family. Humor me, Emma.”

Her name rolled off his tongue and heated her insides twenty degrees. A flame reignited deep within her. So not good. And 100 percent unacceptable.

Get a grip. AJ wasn’t flirting. A rich, gorgeous man would never be attracted to a simple, unremarkable nanny. More likely he was testing her. Libby had mentioned something about AJ’s tests.

A test Emma could handle. She’d been a good student, mostly As, a few Bs. But she’d grown up since then. Emma straightened, book-on-top-of-her-head posture. She had no doubt she would pass this test with an A-plus no matter what Attila threw at her.

She looked across the table at him. Awareness of the man’s good looks and power shivered through her. At least she hoped she would pass his test.

Chapter Two

What was Emma thinking? Of course she would pass any test her new boss threw at her. She stared at AJ, seated across from her, noting the devilish smile on his face.

“What would I do if you misbehaved?” She tilted her head to the right and made a stern face, something she rarely used with children. “I’d start by talking to you.”

“I’m not a big talker.” His mouth quirked, a sexy slant of his lips she tried to ignore. “I prefer action to words.”

Libby hadn’t called her boss a player, but implied as much. Emma could tell he knew the rules of the game and how to break them. Especially when the game was business. “I imagine you know exactly when you’re behaving badly.”

“That’s part of the fun.”

No doubt. “A time-out wouldn’t work with you.”

“I’d only get into more trouble if I had time to think.”

Or he might come up with a way to make another few million dollars. “Then I would do something else.”

He leaned forward, a movement full of swagger though he was sitting. “What?”

Emma took her time answering. She studied his hair, lowered her gaze to his intensely focused eyes, followed his straight nose to those sensual lips, then dropped to his strong jaw and square chin. Handsome, yes, but calculating. She made her own assessment of what might mean the most to him. “I’d take away your electronics.”

His model-worthy jaw dropped. “What?”

A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her answer surprised him. Good. “I’d confiscate your cell phone, computer, tablet. That might teach you a lesson.”

“Sounds a bit harsh.”

“Not if it’s for your own good.”

He rubbed his chin. “Then I’d better behave.”

“Yes, you should.” His bank account didn’t impress Emma. He didn’t, either. Not much anyway. “Don’t make me go all Supernanny or Nanny McPhee on you.”

The plane lurched.

Here we go. Emma gripped the seat arms and glanced out the window. A small single-propeller aircraft taxied in front of them.

“Please prepare for takeoff,” a male voice announced from overhead speakers.

Must be the pilot. Her gaze traveled to AJ. He looked blurry. The rest of the cabin, too. She adjusted her glasses, blinked, but her vision remained fuzzy, the air surrounding her hazy and white.

“Emma?”

She squinted, trying to bring his face and body into focus. “Yes.”

“You’re pale. Libby told me you don’t like flying.”

Emma didn’t blame her friend for warning her boss. “It’s the moment the wheels lift off that gets to me the most, but I should be okay.”

Please let me be okay. The engines revved, louder and louder.

No big deal. She dug her fingers into the butter-soft leather. Pressed her feet against the floor. Leaned her head against the seat.

No big deal. The jet bolted forward, as if released from a slingshot, accelerating down the runway. Dread crept through her stomach and hardened into stone, an uncomfortable heaviness settling in. She burned again, her skin, her insides, immune to the blasts of cool air.

No big deal. Emma squeezed her eyes shut. Darkness didn’t keep the sickening, familiar sensation of weightlessness at bay. The moment the wheels lifted, her stomach plummeted to her toes, then boomeranged to her throat.

Memories bombarded her. The choking smell of smoke. The scorching heat of the flames. The terrifying screams of her brother.

Nausea rose inside her like the jet climbing in the sky. She opened her eyes. “Oh, no.”

AJ’s hands rested on his thighs. “What?”

Emma’s stomach constricted. Her mouth watered. She reached into the seat pocket. “I’m going to be sick.”

* * *

Damn. AJ stared at Emma, who held on to a white barf bag as if it were the Holy Grail. He pushed himself forward in his seat, difficult to do facing backward and strapped in with the plane climbing, but he’d achieved the impossible before.

He reached for her, uncertain how to help, but needing to do something. “Emma.”

She raised her left hand, an almost imperceptible movement he took to mean “not now.” He didn’t blame her, but sitting here unable to do anything brought back a dreaded sense of helplessness, of uselessness. He remembered being out on the water with his father during a storm. More than once AJ figured they would have to abandon ship. More than once he thought they would die. More than once he vowed to do something different with his life if they survived.

You’ll never amount to anything if you leave Haley’s Bay.

His father’s words pounded through AJ’s head like high tide against the harbor rocks. He’d spent the past ten years proving his dad wrong. In spades.

Except AJ’s private jet, fifteen-hundred employees and a net worth of eleven billion were irrelevant at the moment. None of those things could help Emma.

Her greenish complexion worsened. Her white-knuckled fingers, clutching the barf bag, trembled.

The plane continued climbing. If he unbuckled, he might end up on top of Emma. Better to wait until the plane leveled.

The least he could do was give her privacy. Not easy in this confined space, but he glanced out the window.

Tendrils of fluffy white clouds floated in the blue sky. A good day for flying, unless you suffered airsickness.

A moan filled the cabin.

The cat’s stop-they’re-torturing-me cry irritated AJ. Who was he kidding? Everything about felines, especially how much bandwidth people wasted posting “cute” cat pictures on the internet, bugged him. He wanted the cat to be a distraction when they reached Haley’s Bay, not during the flight. AJ drummed his fingers against the armrest.

Emma’s retching stopped. The cat kept howling. He suppressed a groan.

AJ wanted to start his day over. Nothing about his trip was turning out as expected. He wanted to make a triumphant return to Haley’s Bay. He wanted everything to go smoothly during his five-day stay. He wanted Libby with her anal-retentive organizing skills accompanying him, not some...nanny. He’d joked with Emma to see her response and glimpse her social skills.

What in the world was he going to do with an uptight, vomiting Mary Poppins? Libby had warned him about Emma’s problem with flying. If he’d known her issue involved bodily fluids, he would have asked his chauffeur Charlie to drive Emma to Haley’s Bay instead. A car ride would have been easier on her, on AJ, on the annoying cat.

He flexed his fingers. Libby’s brain must have been foggy after her appendectomy. He didn’t understand why she thought her best friend was the perfect person to take her place. Emma might be good with kids. She hadn’t been bad at bantering. But she didn’t seem up for the rigors of the job. Or his family.

Something clicked. The sound came from Emma’s direction. He glanced her way.

She held on to the barf bag with one hand and a wipe with the other. Her hands shook. Her face looked deathly white.

AJ’s chest tightened. He needed to do something. “I’ll call Camille.”

“I’m fine.” Emma’s words sounded strangled. She stared at her lap.

“You need help.”

She gave a slight shake of her head, washed her face, then tossed the wipe into the barf bag. “I’m doing better.”

Emma removed another wipe from her bag and cleaned her hands. No hesitation, no wasted movement, no hunching her shoulders trying to disappear.

“You’re doing great under the circumstances,” he said.

Her self-sufficiency and resiliency intrigued AJ. She was no damsel in distress waiting to be rescued by a handsome prince. Not that he was a prince. More like a black knight or the devil himself, according to his father. “But please let Camille assist you. That’s her job.”

“My job is to assist you, not cause anyone extra work.”

AJ studied the woman. Emma Markwell was not unattractive, in spite of her pallor. He would call her...unfinished, an artist’s sketch on a piece of canvas waiting to be painted. Her braided hair accentuated her heart-shaped face and clear complexion. Smart-girl glasses hid a pair of wide-set bluish-gray eyes and rested on a straight, pert nose. Tight lines hovered at the corner of her full lips.

Of course they did. She’d thrown up breakfast. But the way she handled herself impressed him. AJ had judged her too quickly and she was earning his respect now. He’d gotten seasick on a boat when he was younger and not handled himself nearly as well. Maybe she was up for the job.

A woman who dressed practically would be a refreshing change from stilettos and tight pencil skirts. The nanny was pretty. If Emma unbraided her brown hair and wore makeup to highlight her cheekbones and lips, she could be beautiful. She lacked the sophistication and worldliness of most women he knew, but a nanny didn’t need to dress to impress and show off flawless beauty. He imagined that Emma’s fresh young face and prim appearance earned her more jobs than looking like a sexy supermodel. She might not be a high-flying businesswoman, actress or socialite, but she reminded him of the women in his family—down-to-earth, practical, strong. So far she’d been less nosy than his grandmother, mom or sisters. He hoped Emma’s lack of interest in his personal life continued.

She tucked another wipe into the airsickness bag, folded the ends, then secured the flap with wired tabs.

Competent and capable. Resilient with an underlying toughness. Those traits would serve her well.

He wondered if she’d been disappointed by someone she loved. Perhaps someone she’d trusted had failed her. AJ’s skill at assessing staff had been key to his success, and he understood her qualities from his own experience. Setbacks made you stronger, if you didn’t allow them to win. And he knew how to help her. By putting what she needed within reach.

“It’s obvious you’re fine, but is there anything Camille can bring you? A glass of water? Ginger ale?”

Pink tinged Emma’s cheeks, the blush bringing much-needed color to her face. “No, thanks. The plane’s no longer climbing. I’m going to go to the lavatory and put myself back together.”

She sounded confident, but she hadn’t looked him in the eye since being sick. She might not be as in control as she appeared. “The bathroom is at the front of the jet.”

Emma’s gaze met his. Her vulnerability would have knocked him flat on his ass if he were standing. She was twenty-six, the same age as Libby, but Emma looked younger, like a naive college freshman away from home for the first time.

A protective instinct welled inside him. “Em...”

“Thank you, Mr. Cole.”

Her polite tone jerked him back to reality. She didn’t want pity. But he wasn’t offering that.

She unbuckled her seat belt. He did the same. “Don’t feel bad. Libby warned me you didn’t like flying. I’m assuming she spoke with Camille about adding airsickness bags to the seats.”

“I appreciate Libby’s foresight. She’s a good friend who knows me well. I’ll do my best to fill her shoes. In spite of the past few minutes, I’m up to the task.” Emma stood. She placed the strap of her large purse over her shoulder and held on to the barf bag. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

AJ jumped to his feet. She walked past him toward the front of the plane. His gaze followed, zeroing in on the sway of her hips and the purse bouncing against her thigh. Nice. Feminine. Sexy.

Whoa. What was he thinking? He didn’t want anything to do with Emma except to comfort and reassure her. He considered employees assets, efficient resources, not playthings. Besides, she reminded him of the girls back in Haley’s Bay, rather than the glamorous women he dated in Seattle, San Francisco or wherever else he might be working. The next-door neighbor types weren’t the kind of women he was attracted to now. Not that he found Emma...okay, he found her attractive, which surprised him.

With a towel in hand, Camille stood next to his seat. “Emma said she was sick.”

“Yes, but remarkably neat about it.”

Camille checked the seat and floor anyway. “Libby was right.”

“She usually is.” He glanced toward the front of the plane. “Make sure Emma is okay.”

“Of course.”

The cat screeched.

Camille shook her head. “Not your typical uneventful flight.”

“No.”

Things might not be uneventful until AJ was back home in Seattle. Five days. Five days until his visit would be over. Five days until he would say goodbye to Haley’s Bay for another decade. He couldn’t wait.

* * *

Emma couldn’t wait to get off this airplane. Hitting rock bottom less than fifteen minutes after meeting a new boss had to be a record. But at least things couldn’t get worse.

Unless the plane crashed.

She returned her toothbrush to her toiletry bag. Given her luck so far this morning, that was a distinct possibility. But the odds against crashing after throwing up had to be astronomical, right?

Surveying her reflection in the mirror, she tucked stray strands back into her braid. Her Goth-white complexion had disappeared. Good. She would rather look human than like a vampire wannabe.

She pinched her cheeks to give them more color. Reapplying the makeup she’d wiped off was beyond her. But she looked better, passable, no longer green.

She straightened her glasses, wanting to present a confident, unflappable air. Mr. Cole never needed to know she was dying of embarrassment. Neither did Camille, who kept knocking every minute and a half to see if Emma needed help. She opened the lavatory door.

Blossom’s ear-hurting screeches could wake the dead, officially starting the zombie apocalypse.

Emma followed the racket.

The cat faced forward, screaming her lungs out as if doing her best T. rex impersonation.

Emma knelt in front of the cat carrier. “Shhhh. I know you don’t like this, but we’re almost there.”

Blossom barked, sounding more like an ankle-biting dog than a pissed-off feline.

“Your cat doesn’t sound happy.”

Emma felt AJ’s presence—a potent mix of heat, strength and confidence—behind her. “Blossom doesn’t like to fly, either.”

“You look good as new.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze at crotch level. Lingering on his zipper. Her cheeks burned. No need for pinching cheeks or makeup now. She looked up at him. “I am. Flying doesn’t really get to me. Taking off is the culprit. The weightlessness.”

“Your stomach can’t handle the feeling.”

“Nope.” And the flashbacks nearly did her in each time, but nobody needed to know about those. “The landing will be a breeze. But I’m guessing Blossom won’t quiet down until she’s out of her carrier.”

AJ kneeled. The left side of his body brushed hers, sending sparks shooting across her skin. The scent of his aftershave, something musky with a touch of spice, enveloped her.

She sucked in a breath. Oh, boy. He smelled so good, fresh, like the first spring day after months of dreary winter rain.

He peered into the carrier. “What’s its name again?”

“Blossom. Her name is Blossom.”

He tapped on the carrier. “Be quiet, Blossom.”

“Cat’s don’t respond to—”

The cat stopped meowing. Blossom rubbed her head against the carrier door.

He stuck his finger through the grating and touched the cat. “Don’t respond to what?”

“Logic.”

Blossom, however, didn’t make another noise. She soaked up the attention. Purred. Unbelievable. The cat hadn’t purred at the shelter or at Emma’s apartment. At least not that any of the volunteers had noticed. Yet this guy, a non-cat-lover guy, had the feline purring like a generator. “Blossom likes you.”

“She likes the attention.”

“Attention from you. This is the first time I’ve heard her purr.”

AJ yanked his hand away, plastered his arm against his side. “I’m not a fan of cats. She wouldn’t like me.”

Tell that to Blossom. The cat pressed against the crate door, fur squishing through the grating. She stared up at AJ as if he were her sun, stars and moon.

Thanks to AJ Cole, Blossom had transformed from she devil to sweetheart. Emma grinned, something she never expected to do after getting sick in front of her new boss. “She does like you.”

AJ’s gaze bounced from the cat to Emma. “The cat needed someone to tell her what was expected.”

“Cats do what they want.”

“Perhaps the cat needed to have a higher bar set for its behavior.”

He didn’t use Blossom’s name, but the feline didn’t seem to mind. She was trying to get out of the cage and closer to AJ. “Perhaps. But this gives me hope.”

“Hope?”

“That Blossom will find her forever home. There’s been concern she might be unadoptable. She doesn’t seem to like many people.”

He looked at Blossom, but he didn’t touch her. Much to the cat’s dismay. “I don’t know anything about cats, but she seems fine to me. Not so annoying now that she’s quiet.”

Camille approached. She handed AJ a glass with a straw sticking out. “Your protein shake.”

“Thanks.” His fingers circled the glass.

The flight attendant handed a small juice-sized glass to Emma. “A little ginger ale for you.”

“Thank you,” Emma said.

“We’ll be landing soon.” Camille motioned to the back of the plane. “Please return to your seats.”

Emma did and buckled her seat belt. The engines whirred. She waited for Blossom to meow, but the cat remained quiet.

AJ sat across from her. Sipped from the straw. “You okay?”

She nodded.

“If you feel bad again, Camille restocked the side pocket.”

Two more airsickness bags were inside. “Thanks, but I’ve never had trouble during landings.” At least not the one Emma remembered.

“We’re beginning our descent into Haley’s Bay,” the pilot announced. “Please remain seated.”

She gripped the armrests, a combination of anticipation of wanting to be on the ground and apprehension over what the rest of the week would hold.

AJ stared at her over the rim of his glass, his eyes full of concern. “The pilot’s very good.”

“You don’t have to reassure me.”

His gaze narrowed, darkened. “Why not?”

“It’s not your job.”

“I get to write my job description. One benefit of being the boss.”

“Do you like being the boss?”

He stiffened. Stared into his drink. Toyed with the straw.

“No one’s asked me that. People assume...” He shifted in his seat. “But yes, of course. What’s not to love?”

He was bluffing, hiding something, like a child who said swim lessons were fun when dunking his head under water terrified him. What other secrets was AJ hiding?

None of Emma’s business. She didn’t need to go looking for AJ Cole’s demons. She had enough of her own. But she hoped this vacation went well for him because the only thing worse than having no family would be having a family that didn’t get along. Best to make sure she knew what AJ needed from her.

She removed a half-inch binder and a mechanical pencil from her tote bag. “Libby sent me your tentative itinerary. Any changes to today’s schedule I should know about?”

He waved his hand, as if brushing aside Emma’s question. “Relax until we land.”

“Let’s confirm today’s agenda first.” She adjusted her glasses. “Then I’ll relax.”

AJ took another sip of his drink. “Read what’s on your list.”

“Lunch with your grandmother while I arrange meetings with the party rental company and florist and check into the Broughton Inn. A conference call at two, another one at three, followed by an interview at four with a technology blogger. Then you have a break until dinner with your family at seven.”

“Easy afternoon.”

“Three calls on the first afternoon of your vacation sounds more like you’re working.”

He raised a brow, as if surprised by her words. Guess Libby didn’t speak to him like that. Well, Emma wasn’t like her best friend. Not even close.

“This is a light day.” He placed his empty glass on the table between them. “I’ve limited what’s on my schedule.”

Emma guessed she had a different definition of limited from his. “If there aren’t any changes—”

“There is one.”

She readied her pencil.

A muscle ticked at his jaw.

She leaned forward. “What?”

“We’re staying at my grandmother’s house. It’ll be easier with the party planning, and my grandma thought it would be better for the cat.”

Disappointment shot through Emma. She’d been a live-in nanny so she knew what staying at someone’s house as an employee meant. But the arrangement made sense, even without the cat factored in. She pasted on a smile. “That’s generous of your grandmother.”

He leaned back against his seat, but his gaze never left her. “My grandmother loves playing hostess. She’s thrilled I’m bringing company, not to mention a cat.”

The noise level of the engines changed. She clasped her hands together. “I’m sure your grandmother’s more excited to have you staying with her. Ten years is a long time to be away.”

“What has Libby told you?”

“Not much.” A glance out the window told Emma the plane was descending. “I know you’re throwing your grandmother an eightieth birthday party. Very nice of you to do.”

“Just holding up my end of a deal.”

Emma looked back at him. “Excuse me?”

His gaze, warm and clear, met hers. “When I was eight, I wanted a space-alien birthday party. My dad said no, so my grandma offered to throw me a party if I agreed to do the same for her when she turned eighty. We shook on it.”

Emma tried to picture AJ as a boy, but looking past the handsome man sitting across from her was impossible. “You remembered that after all these years?”

“No.” He half laughed. The charming sound sent a brush of tingles across Emma’s tummy. “My grandma did. She reminded me in February.”

She rubbed her stomach. Maybe she was feeling the aftereffects of being sick earlier. “Still nice of you.”

“She’s my grandma. I wasn’t about to say no.”

“Would you be returning to Haley’s Bay if it weren’t her birthday?”

“Probably not, which she knows.” Affection filled his gaze. “My grandmother’s a sly one. But I’m on my way so she’s happy. I want the party to go smoothly. That’s what I’m counting on you for, Emma.”

She wrote the words “anticipate and prevent problems” in her binder. “Yes, Mr. Cole.”

“AJ.”

The man had seen her vomit. The only other people to see her do that were her parents, God rest their souls, and Libby. “AJ.”

He smiled. She smiled back. The moment lingered. Filled her with heat. She looked at her binder. “Anything else I should know?”

“My family is big and crazy and loud.” AJ sounded amused, not annoyed. “I have four brothers—Ellis, Flynn, Declan and Grady—and two sisters—Bailey and Camden. Not to mention my sister-in-law, Risa, and more aunts, uncles and cousins than I can count.”

“That is a big family.”

“The single Cole men will hit on you because you’re new in town and their reputations haven’t been sullied yet. They’ve done that in the past. You’re under no obligation to them, and let me know if they annoy you.” AJ’s dark eyes and serious tone told Emma he wasn’t joking. “What you do on your own time is none of my business, but don’t let your actions affect your ability to get the job done.”

His words irritated her. Okay, he didn’t know her, but she wasn’t about to sleep around because good-looking guys were giving her attention. She imagined his brothers were attractive, AJ in multiples, like the Hemsworth brothers. That could be dangerous. To her job and her heart. She jotted a note in the margin. “Stay away from Cole males.”

“I’ll keep my distance.”

A lopsided grin formed. “Smart.”

She hated the way her body responded to his compliment. “It’s been my experience that business and pleasure don’t mix well.”

“Mine, too.”

At least they agreed on something.

“But business has to be fun,” AJ added. “All work and no play...”

“Would be boring.” Emma recalled Libby’s description of the Cole corporate headquarters in Seattle with a game arcade, gym, massages, errand service, and free meals, snacks and drinks at the employee cafeterias. Fun seemed to be the operative word at his company. Not surprising given that he developed a photography-based blogging platform and created a social media gaming site for friends to compete. “I wouldn’t last long as a nanny if I didn’t play. Having fun means everything to children.”

“What about you?”

“I like to have fun.”

He drummed his fingers against the chair arm. “What do you do for fun?”

“Play tag, dress-up, bicycle, hunt for treasure, bake, board games, and go to the Oregon Zoo, the children’s museum or OMSI.”

His fingers stilled. “I meant what do you do when you’re not being a nanny.”

“Oh. Sorry. I like to read, watch movies, hike, volunteer at an animal rescue center.”

“Quiet pleasures.”

“It’s not always quiet at the rescue shelter, but the noise is different there. I love being a nanny. The children are wonderful, but they’re loud and full of energy and want your undivided attention. A little quiet is nice.”

“Alone time is fun for you.”

She bit back a smile. AJ wasn’t grilling her, but he seemed to want to know more about her. She would have expected a billionaire to brag and make sure the conversation centered around him. Not that she knew any billionaires, but she’d worked for a millionaire. “Escaping inside a dark theater with a bucket of popcorn, a soda, a box of candy and no one to take to the bathroom at the best part of a movie is the definition of superfun.”

“There’s a theater in Haley’s Bay.”

“Thanks, but I doubt you’ll be screaming and tugging on my shirt to get attention all day long.”

“No screaming.” He winked. “And I’ve found persuading a woman to take off her shirt works better than tugging.”

“I’m surprised you have to persuade them.” The man’s smile could charm a snake out of its skin. “I assumed women flashed you, like at Mardi Gras.”

“Only in my dreams.” With a wry grin, he settled back in his seat. “But they’re very nice dreams.”

“I imagine so.”

“What do you dream about, Emma?”

“I... Um, a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

She fiddled with her seat belt. “Cats. Children. Family.”

“Nanny things?”

A lump the size of a Super Ball burned in Emma’s throat. She swallowed, kept her smile from wavering and looked AJ straight in the eyes. “Yes, nanny things.”

Cat lover things. Mommy things. Wife things. Things a man who had a family, albeit an estranged one, would never understand. Things she dreamed about. Things she wanted...desperately.

Chapter Three

Charlie, AJ’s chauffeur for three years, cut five minutes off the drive from the minuscule airport to Haley’s Bay. AJ rubbed his thumb against his fingertips.

He liked being on time. He preferred arriving early. Charlie was doing his job, getting AJ to his destination as quickly as possible. But this once, he wouldn’t have minded being late.

Still, he didn’t lower the glass panel and tell Charlie to slow down. Not until AJ had a reason, one beyond his wanting to prolong the inevitable.

Music played from the speakers. Stock quotes ran across the bottom of a television screen. The bar called to him, but he needed to be stone-cold sober when he faced his family. AJ glanced at Emma, seated next to him, the cat carrier at her feet.

She stared out the window. Her serious expression—dare he say dour—took prim and proper to the next level. So different from how she’d been right before landing. Her sense of humor had disappeared. Her smile, too.

She might be upset over getting sick earlier. She might be nervous about her new job. Or she might be acting the way she always did. Whatever the reason, she was his employee, his responsibility. The least he could do was help her relax after a rough flight and coax a smile out of her. “Let’s take a detour. Check out a lighthouse or two.”

Her lips twisted. “You’re expected at your grandmother’s house.”

“I wouldn’t be a gracious host if I didn’t show you the sights.”

“You’re not my host,” she countered. “You’re my boss.”

Being her employer was easy to forget. Libby had hired Emma. “I don’t mind playing tour guide.”

Her nose crinkled. “You have a schedule—”

“Subject to change.”

“True, but as your personal assistant I’m supposed to keep you on schedule.”

“True, but you’re also supposed to do what I ask.”

“Even if doing so isn’t in your best interest? I mean, you haven’t been home in ten years. Your grandmother might be peeking out the window waiting for you to arrive.”

He pictured Grandma doing that. “I’ll concede the point.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

His gaze met Emma’s. She removed her glasses to blow on the right lens. Pretty blue eyes surrounded by long, thick lashes. He hadn’t noticed her eyelashes before. “Does your grandmother do the same when you visit?”

“My grandparents are dead.” Emma put on her glasses and stared out the window. “Looks like we’re here.”

A wooden sign on the side of the two-lane road welcomed visitors to Haley’s Bay. The sign was new. The churning in AJ’s stomach wasn’t.

After a decade, the town had likely changed. In that same time, his life had also changed. His family’s opinion of him might never change. That could take a century. Or longer.

The last time he was home his family had tried to shame him into staying in Haley’s Bay. That wouldn’t happen again, but something else might. He wanted to be prepared. “One of your responsibilities is running interference for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I find myself in a difficult situation, I may need you to get me out of it by texting or calling or physically interrupting me.”

She smiled at the sleeping cat before looking up at him. “Afraid you might run into old girlfriends who might want to rekindle the flame?”

“That isn’t likely to happen.” His high school sweetheart and ex-fiancée, Natalie, had dumped him and married one of his closest friends. AJ had been devastated, but recovered. A good lesson learned—immediate gratification was more important than loyalty to some people. “But there will be people around. My family, too.”

Emma eyed him warily. “Family?”

He nodded once. “Libby and I have a code word. If I text or say the word, she knows to take action.”

Emma removed her notepad from her bag. “What’s the code word?”

“Top secret.”

“If I don’t know what to listen for, I’m not going to be able to help you.”

He rubbed his chin. “We need our own word. Something obscure, but not too random.”

Emma tapped her pen against her notepad. “How about...lighthouse?”

AJ mulled over the suggestion. Ten letters would be a bear to text, but the word could be worked into a conversation without sounding like a non sequitur.

“That’ll work.” Satisfaction flowed through him. The word played perfectly into his plans. “To make sure we remember the code word, we’ll visit one now.”

“No need. I’ll remember.”

“A few hours spent sightseeing won’t make a difference.”

“What’s really going on?” She studied him. “You remind me of a kid trying to put off going to the doctor’s for a shot.”

His jaw tensed. “I’m not scared of needles.”

“You’re scared of something.”

Emma’s insight made him squirm. She had zero qualms pinpointing and commenting on what was going on in his head, trying to fix what was upsetting him. He was used to having people try to fix things for him, but not with nurturing concern, as if she really cared. AJ didn’t like it.

“I’m not scared of anything.” The words flowed quickly, one after the other without any breaks. Not like him. But then again, he was back in Haley’s Bay. That changed everything. “Okay, that’s not quite true. The threat of an EMP, electronic magnetic pulse, making every electrical device obsolete has given me nightmares.”

“You’re not scared about coming home?”

“Nope.” Damn. He sounded like a kid, a scared little kid trying to put on a good front, and Emma seemed to know that. “I lived here for eighteen years. I might be a little on edge, but that’s because I haven’t been here in a while.”

“Ten years is a long time.”

“I’ve been busy.” A stupid excuse, but she didn’t need to know the real reasons. “But I’m free now. Let’s take in a few sights on our way. This is my first vacation in over a year.”

Emma’s not-going-to-happen-on-my-watch shake of her head stopped him cold. “You’ll have a free block of time after your calls this afternoon,” she said. “Plenty of time to see the sights over the next five days.”

Her friendly tone, as though she was using extra patience for her recalcitrant charge, made him feel like an idiot for bringing this up again. He must be back in his hometown. He’d felt like the village idiot living here.

Emma leaned toward the limousine window. The shift of position brought a whiff of her citrus shampoo—grapefruit or maybe lemon. The fresh scent appealed to him like the nanny.

“Wow.” She pressed closer to the glass. “This place is beautiful.”

He followed her gaze to the sparkling expanse of water and the heart of the town hugging the shoreline. Pride welled. Foolish, irrepressible pride he buried in a no-nonsense response. “The town hugs the waterfront. Most of the shops and restaurants are on Bay Street near the harbor.”

“Is Haley’s Bay named after an original settler?”

“Yes.” AJ didn’t know if she was making conversation or wanted to know the answer. Given her occupation, he’d guess the latter. She seemed the type to pay attention and ask questions of white-haired docents leading museum tours. He wouldn’t mind taking her through a couple of the historic sites around here. “Haley was a trader who anchored in the bay during his voyages. That’s according to the Lewis and Clark expedition. The bay was renamed Baker Bay, after a British merchant, but the original town name stuck.”

“You know your history.”

Her praise made him sit taller. A stupid reaction, but returning to his hometown was a stupid move. He should have thrown a royal extravaganza for his grandmother on his turf, in Seattle. Rented the Space Needle. Staged a massive fireworks display. But she’d wanted the party here in the town where she’d been born and lived her entire life. “I learned Washington state history in school, but the old folks around here bring the past alive, especially the fishermen. They love sharing every legend about Haley’s Bay.”

“I’m usually the one telling stories. I’d love to hear some tales.”

The excitement in her voice made him want to offer to introduce her around. Talk about a stupid move. She would be more welcome here than him. But something about Emma made AJ want to help her. Maybe he was feeling sorry for her after the rough flight, but he didn’t like it. She worked for him, not the other way around.

“Make friends with the locals,” he suggested. “You’ll hear them all.”

“Must have been fun growing up here.”

“When I was a little kid.” He studied the buildings—stores and cafés he didn’t recognize—along the inland side of Bay Road. Maybe that would take his mind off the woman sitting next to him. A wrought iron wind vane of a sailboat faced west. On the sidewalk, two people walked hand in hand. An unleashed golden retriever trotted next to them. “Not so much when I became a teenager.”

“It’s a charming town.”

“If you like small and boring.”

“I do.” She stared across him. Her lips parted, spreading into a wide grin that made him want to smile. “Look at the boats.”

Sailboat masts teetered on the harbor. Flags fluttered in the breeze. Empty moorings meant most boats had headed out to sea for the day. “Fishing used to support this town. Now I hear the biggest catch is tourists. A couple of my brothers take them deep sea fishing.”

That must kill his dad, who believed the only way to make money was building boats and catching fish. He’d called tourists “barnacles” and a few other choice words he wouldn’t say in front of his wife or mother.

With her eager gaze, Emma looked like a tourist herself. All she needed was a camera, sunglasses and a guidebook. “I could see coming here for vacation.”

He’d taken days off work, but he couldn’t relax here. Still, talking about Haley’s Bay with Emma wasn’t so bad. Being so aware of her movements and expressions, however, was making him uncomfortable. He focused on the town’s geography. “Cape Disappointment is next door with campsites, yurts and hiking trails. There’s the Lewis and Clark Interpretive Center. Long Beach is a coastal resort community to the northwest and Astoria, Oregon, is south across the Columbia River. I guess if I hadn’t grown up here...”

“You’d come for fun.”

“I might.” AJ tried hard not to think of this place. “But I always thought of Haley’s Bay as the place I couldn’t wait to leave when I went to college.”

“Back east, right?”

Libby must have prepped Emma with his background info. He assumed only the basics. All he knew about Emma was that she’d been in the foster care system before moving in with Libby and her parents during high school. “MIT.”

“Boston must have been a big change with the crowds and skyscrapers.”

“My first week it took me three days to fall asleep because of the noise, but I loved living there. Compared to a city, this place is dead.”

“You might view your hometown differently now that you’re an adult.” Emma pointed to the Captain’s Café, a multistory restaurant complete with weathered front, crow’s nest, anchor and captain’s wheel. “Do they have good food?”

“I’ve never seen the place.” He searched his memory for what had been there before. The doughnut shop, no...that wasn’t right. “That used to be Stu’s Sandwich Shop, a hole-in-the-wall storefront. But no one could top their pastrami on rye.”

“I love a good Reuben.”

AJ imagined her biting into a big sandwich, a dab of Thousand Island on the corner of her mouth. He wouldn’t mind licking it off and tasting more than the dressing.

Whoa. Where had that come from? He didn’t lick, let alone kiss, employees.

And she was his employee. Smart. Observant with journalist-writing-a-travel-piece insights, opinions and questions. Qualities he searched for when hiring staff. The other things he looked for were initiative and loyalty. Always, after what he’d gone through in Haley’s Bay, loyalty.

She gestured to the passing scenery, giving him another whiff of her shampoo. “What other places are new?”

Ignoring how good she smelled, he took in the street, noting the differences from his memory to reality. “The Coffee Shack, Donut Heaven, Bert’s Hardware, the Bay Mercantile Store and the barbershop were here before, but the building facades are updated. The Candy Cave, the Buried Treasure and Raging Waters are new. They appear more for tourists than locals. But I’ll bet the new store owners have the same small-town mentality as everyone else.”

“That so-called mentality is part of the appeal.”

Her odd—almost disapproving?—expression jabbed at him. Libby wasn’t a yes-person, but if her opinion differed from his she wasn’t vocal like Emma. The nanny had no problem speaking up. He wasn’t used to people doing so and wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. “The mentality is difficult to take growing up.”

“You feel that way, but many people didn’t grow up in a small town. They want to experience what that’s like. That’s why tourists like visiting. Haley’s Bay has to be a popular destination or we’d see the effects of a downturned economy, empty businesses and for lease signs in the windows.”

Interesting. A nanny with a keen sense of business. She wasn’t a carbon copy of Libby, and that was surprisingly okay. He leaned toward Emma, wanting to know more about her. “What was your major in college?”

“I didn’t go to college.” Not an ounce of regret sounded in her voice. She raised her chin with a hint of pride and determination, two more traits that appealed to him. “I attended a thirty-month nanny certification program in Portland. But I loved my economics class in high school. I like to read and stay up on current events. Nannies are a child’s second teacher, after their parents. I aim to enhance a child’s natural interests.”

Initiative in the flesh, plus confidence and curiosity. All packaged as a prim, proper, mousy nanny who had a pretty smile when she let it show. Emma would work out nicely. The more she dealt with, the more he could retreat.

“You might not like your hometown, but I love the quaint shops and cafés.” She rested her head against the back of the seat, her shoulder brushing his. “Quintessential Pacific Northwest coastal town.”

Her wistful, romantic tone annoyed him. So did the tingle racing down his arm from where she’d touched him. “Forest and water, Emma. Please. Don’t get all rose-tinted on me, okay? This is Hicksville and being here held me back, badly. I never would have amounted to anything if I’d stayed in Haley’s Bay. This place was suffocating.”

The words rushed from his mouth before he could stop them. He’d never said these thoughts before. Weird. He was more careful and reserved around strangers. Around people he knew, too.

She tilted her head, attention fixed on him. Her focus unsettled him. He was used to being deferred to. Most bosses were. Emma must not have gotten the memo.

Of course she hadn’t. She consulted with parents and left when they didn’t agree. A free agent unused to following the chain of command. Like him when he’d started his business. How unexpected.

“What?” he asked finally.

“You...” She pursed her lips, full and unglossed.

He prepared for a lecture. Wanted to hear what she had to say if she didn’t drag on for more than a minute or so.

“...couldn’t have done a better job at getting away and making something of yourself.”

The praise filled him with unexpected warmth. Most people complimented him, but AJ never knew if they meant the words or were trying to suck up to him. Emma didn’t seem to be the kind of person to belong in that second group. “Thanks. There’s more—”

She nodded to him, as if encouraging him to continue. “More what?”

Damn. AJ balled one of his hands. He didn’t know why he kept telling Emma things. He didn’t let his guard down around anyone, friend or employee. Fresh-smelling hair and pretty smile aside.

“More I want to do. Places to visit.” Not what he intended to say, but the words were true and the perfect way to change the subject. “Are there places you’d like to travel?”

“Anywhere.”

“In the world?”

She nodded. “The farthest from Portland I’ve been is Puerto Vallarta. It’s hard to get around the flying.”

“You flew today.”

“To help Libby.” Emma’s gaze returned to the view out the window. The limousine followed the road along the bay toward his grandmother’s house. “I should have suggested driving myself and meeting you here, but I was so worried about Libby I wasn’t thinking straight.”

He knew the feeling being with Emma. “When it’s time for you to return to Portland, my driver will take you home.”

She glanced around the limousine, taking in the multiple screens, leather seats, bar. “This is your, um, car.”

AJ nodded. “Charlie drove down from Seattle this morning. I never intended on flying to Haley’s Bay, but I didn’t want to leave Libby alone in New York. She’s too valuable to me. If I’d known she hadn’t been feeling well before we’d left on the trip, I never would have taken her along, but she hid her abdominal pains until they became acute. I waited for her mother to arrive, made sure she was settled and comfortable, then flew here with a couple stops along the way.”

“Oh.”

The surprise in the one word spoke volumes. Emma Markwell had thought the worst of him. She wasn’t the only one, especially here in Haley’s Bay. “You assumed I left Libby in the hospital alone.”

“Maybe.”

“That means yes.”

Emma stared up at him through her eyeglasses, her cheeks red and a contrite look on her face. “It’s nice to know you didn’t. Leave Libby, that is.”

Not a full compliment, but better than being slammed for something he didn’t do. Still, he liked the idea of making Emma squirm since she’d done the same to him. “You’re backpedaling.”

“Not really.”

“I’m a nice guy.”

Emma raised an arched brow. “Are you always nice?”

Damn. “I try to be.”

“Trying doesn’t always work.”

“No, but I can tell myself I didn’t set out to be a jerk.”

“Is this something you tell yourself often?” she teased.

Her sense of humor had returned. She would need every funny bone with his family. “You’ll be able to answer that question on Sunday.”

“That sounds like I should be worried.”

“Maybe.”

Emma laughed. “Guess I deserve that.”

The limousine pulled to a stop. The engine turned off.

AJ glanced to his right. His grandmother’s Victorian stood peacock-blue and proud across a lawn of manicured grass and blooming flower beds. His heart beat like a halyard on a mast. “We’re here.”

“Wow. Your grandmother’s home is perfect. Even with the water right here, the house is what shines.”

He recognized the awe in Emma’s voice. A familiar sense of reverence—of home—brought an unexpected smile to his face. “The house has been in our family for generations.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “That’s a long time to stay in one place.”

“Coles have lived in Haley’s Bay since the Civil War.”

Her gaze bounced from the house to him. “The house isn’t that old.”

“My great grandfather bought the house ninety years ago. He liked the view of the bay.”

“Let me guess, he was a fisherman.”

“And boat builder.”

Emma looked over her shoulder at the bay. She took her time, allowed her gaze to absorb what she saw. “Lovely.”

The dreamy haze in her eyes and a soft smile on her face made her lovely, too. He shook the thought from his head. “The view from the second floor is better. You can see the harbor.”

Charlie opened the door.

AJ motioned for Emma to go first.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and clasped the plastic handle on the cat carrier. Moving toward the open door, she looked like she might topple out of the car. He didn’t need her to get hurt. One personal assistant in the hospital was enough.

He took the carrier from her. “I’ve got the cat.”

Her gaze met his then she looked away. “Thank you.”

AJ followed her out and stood on the sidewalk. Vividly painted terra-cotta flowerpots full of colorful pink, purple and yellow blossoms sat on each step leading to the wraparound porch. His sister Bailey’s creations, he was sure, the sight comforting as his grandma’s crocheted afghans. He only hoped his dad wasn’t part of the welcoming committee.

AJ gestured to the steps. “After you.”

Halfway up, Emma stopped. “There’s a swing.”

The breathless quality to her voice surprised him. He peered around her to see the white slotted-back, two-person bench hanging from thick silver chains. “Looks like my grandmother replaced her old swing. She used to love to drink tea out here and watch the boats. Guess she still does.”

“We had a swing.” Emma took the last two stairs. “Boy, did we abuse that thing. My mom got so mad at us.”

A bright, toothpaste-ad smile lit up her face.

AJ’s chest tightened. Emma looked so lighthearted and happy. She should smile more.

He joined her on the porch. “Us?”

Something—not panic, perhaps surprise—flashed in her eyes. “My, um, older brother.”

“My younger brothers and I played on Grandma’s old swing all the time. Had to fix it more than once after climbing and hanging off the chains.” He set the cat carrier on the porch. “We used to stand on the backrest and swing to see how high we could go. We also jumped off the seat to see if we could clear the porch rail and bushes.”

She leaned over the rail as if estimating the distance down to the lawn. “Sounds dangerous.”

He bit back a laugh. “You sound like a nanny.”

“Occupational hazard.” Her amused gaze met his. “But you can’t tell me no one got hurt.”

He pointed under his chin. “I have a scar to show for the fun we had. My youngest brother, Grady, has two.”

“Your poor grandmother.”

“She didn’t mind. Now our mom—”

The front door opened.

“You’re here.” His grandma stood in the doorway. She wore a pair of light blue pants and a white peasant blouse. All five feet of short gray curls and sharp blue eyes barreled toward him like a stampeding water buffalo, albeit a baby one. “You’re finally home.”

Not his home. He lived in Seattle. But the excitement in her voice reminded AJ that this visit wasn’t about him.

AJ hugged his grandmother. Her rose-scented perfume smelled sweeter than when she’d visited him in Seattle. “It’s not like you gave me a choice, Grandma.”

She tsked, stepped back and assessed him from head to toe. “I like the long hair, but you need the ends trimmed. Go visit Monty at the barbershop. He’ll fix you right up.”

AJ shook his head. “Nice to see you, too, Grandma.”

Emma laughed under her breath.

“Grandmother.” He motioned to his new assistant, who stood with a patient smile on her face and her arm half-extended toward his grandmother. “I’d like you to meet—”

“Is he here?” A high-pitched female voice called from inside the house. “Grandmother Cole? Is he?”

“AJ is here.” Grandma leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Risa has been waiting for you to arrive all morning. Her youngest sister is here, too. And she can’t wait to meet the illustrious and incredibly wealthy AJ Cole.”

Danger-up-ahead infused his grandmother’s tone. His gut clenched. He’d heard about his sister-in-law’s matchmaking from his sister Bailey. Two brothers and his youngest sister, Camden, had been targeted over the holidays last year, making Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners uncomfortable. “I thought her sister lived far away.”

“Hawaii,” Grandma said. “But I suppose meeting a billionaire was worth the expense of a trip to the mainland.”

Crap. AJ blew out a puff of air. Matchmaking friends and relatives were as bad as a case of chicken pox. Enough women wanted a piece of his bank account. He didn’t need an in-law giving one of her sisters a push or inside access to him. On a rare vacation. That he already dreaded. This was not-not-not going to happen.

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