organized an event of this size on her own. She’d feel like a fraud. Her excitement deflated.
Reluctantly, she admitted the truth. “The best thing would be to hire an event organizer, someone with experience and training.”
“True, but I’ve never been known for traditional hiring practices. Just look at the process of hiring my brother’s housekeeper to be my nanny, and that’s working out just fine. Besides,” he said with a pointed look, “you’re the one who convinced me that we should do it differently this time, so it’s pretty much your responsibility to see that through.”
She laughed at his attempt at levity. “Okay, all right. I’ll give it a go, but I can’t promise that I’ll do it as well as a professional would.”
A spark of triumph flared in his eyes, and he grinned. “You just do it your way—that’s all I’ll be expecting. I’ll run it past Adam and Dylan and get a team together to meet with you.”
A few minutes later, Jenna pushed the stroller out of the building into the brilliant sunshine and the scents of the flower farm and wondered what she’d just gotten herself into.
“Girls,” she said, looking down at the two babies, “sometime soon I might need to learn to say no to Liam Hawke.”
* * *
When Liam arrived home that night it was almost eleven o’clock. The house was quiet, calm. He felt an ironic smile creep across his face. A few months ago, quiet and calm had been his house’s natural state. Then his daughter had arrived, bringing sunshine and happy chaos with her. Meg had only added to that.
Jenna, however, had interrupted his calm in a different way. In a wholly unexpected and unwelcome way. Even now, thinking about her, his pulse accelerated against his will.
He headed up the stairs and down the hall and noticed the light in Bonnie’s nursery was on. Bonnie must be having her bottle, which was good timing—he could stop in and help with that before falling into bed. But when he reached the room, it was empty of furniture and Jenna stood with her back to him as she painted the walls daffodil yellow. In a simple white T-shirt and cut-off denim shorts stretching nicely over her rounded bottom, she was the most alluring woman he could remember seeing. His mouth was suddenly dry. He swallowed once, twice.
“Well, this is unexpected,” he said, leaning on the door frame.
She whirled to face him, eyes startled and face covered in splatters of bright yellow. A large spot sat lopsided on her nose, and drips decorated her white T-shirt.
“I thought you said it was okay for me to paint this room,” she said in a rush. “The dark browns—”
He held up a hand. “It’s fine. You’re right, I wanted the nursery redecorated—I just thought you’d get a contractor in to do it. Painting walls isn’t in your job description.”
She shoved some hair that had fallen from her ponytail away from her face, but it flopped back straight away. “I wanted to do it. I’ve never painted a room before.”
He couldn’t hold back the laugh—she was so earnest. “It’s hardly up there with life goals like climbing Mt. Everest or touring a medieval castle.”
“I suppose,” she said with a secret smile dancing around her mouth, “it depends on what a person has and hasn’t experienced before.”
“I suppose so.” He pushed off the doorframe and wandered around the room, scrutinizing her handiwork.
“It’s not too bad, is it?” Her hand fluttered as she tucked the stray strand of hair behind her ears. She seemed more uncertain than she had about anything since he’d met her.
The edges were crooked in places, but given it was her first time, it looked remarkably neat. “You’ve done a good job.”
She beamed at the simple praise as she pointed to the windowsill. “I know the edges need some work. I’ll go over them when I’ve finished here.”
“How about I change my clothes and give you a hand? I know some tricks that will make it easier.” He was sure he’d regret this later, but in that moment, seeing her glowing from within, he couldn’t walk away.
“Oh, no,” she said emphatically. “I couldn’t ask you to do that after a long day at work. I’ll be fine.”
“I assume you’ve also put in a long day already. Speaking of your job,” he said mildly, “where exactly is my daughter?”
Jenna rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving another adorable smear of yellow. “Sleeping in Meg’s room. I moved Meg’s crib into my room until I’ve finished in here and Bonnie can move back in.”
“Okay. I’ll do a quick check on her, then change into some old clothes and be back.”
He slipped out and into the room next door and saw the perfect little face of his child. She still made his breath catch in wonder every time he saw her.
She was a miracle, and she was his. Would he ever feel worthy of her?
* * *
Jenna sighed heavily after Liam left the room. Spending time with him on a joint project sounded like sweet torture. It was hard enough being with him late at night when she fed Bonnie, but at least they had the baby to focus on and clearly defined roles. She was the nanny, awake for a night feeding.
Though, truth be told, she was often at sea in Liam’s house. When she’d lived in the palace, she also had a clearly defined role—she was the daughter of the queen and she had access to certain areas, knew who worked where and how things should be. When she’d lived in Dylan’s apartment as his housekeeper, she’d had her own space downstairs and clearly defined boundaries—she cleaned Dylan’s living areas but she didn’t spend time in them, and her own rooms were hers and private.
Yet here in this house, she was sharing Liam’s personal space, despite barely knowing him, despite being his employee. Liam had encouraged her to make herself at home, but that wasn’t realistic.
Could that be why she reacted to her boss as a man? The boundaries of home and work were so confused that the boundaries between the man who signed her paychecks and the man who filled out a button-down shirt like no one’s business were destined to be equally as confused.
Liam strode back into the room wearing an old T-shirt that fit him perfectly and a pair of blue jeans that had become soft with washing and hung low on his hips, molding over his thighs. A low, insistent pulse beat through her body. It seemed that it wasn’t just when he was wearing button-down shirts that he affected her....
“Where would you like me to start?” he asked, his voice deep and rich.
She swallowed, trying to get her voice to work. “Maybe on the edges. As you pointed out, I’m not particularly good at them.”
“No one’s perfect at something the first time they try it, Jenna. It takes practice.” He rested his hands on his hips as he assessed the spots he’d be working on. “You’ve done a good job for your first time.”
“That’s kind of you to say,” she said, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks.
He picked up a paintbrush and dipped it in the sunshine yellow paint. “Just truth. I’m a simple black-and-white, facts-and-figures kinda guy.”
She wondered if he truly believed that or if it was a throwaway line. He’d said it in all seriousness, but surely the man who’d created the Midnight Lily and taken the photographs that adorned the bedroom walls couldn’t see himself as only a “facts-and-figures kinda guy”? She had so many questions about Liam Hawke.
They painted in silence for a few minutes before she found the courage to pose one of them. One she owed it to Bonnie to ask. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“You can ask,” he said, his voice teasing as he crouched to reach a corner. “However, I’ll