The Texas Billionaire's Bride / The Texas Bodyguard's Proposal: The Texas Billionaire's Bride
but Melanie Grandy helped out by guiding Livie forward.
When his daughter fell against him, he closed his eyes, squeezing her tight. Probably too tight, because she backed away and went back to holding her nanny’s hand.
His own daughter, preferring a near stranger.
But that’s what he was, wasn’t he?
If thoughts could make a person bleed, he’d be dying.
“Why don’t you go inside, Livie?” he said, his tone measured. “The TV’s on.”
“TV?” she asked, clearly intrigued about an activity she rarely got to indulge in.
He gestured for her to enter, and after she did, he tried to contain himself in front of his guest.
But there was too much to bottle up: the frustration, the shock of his unwelcome attraction to her, the barely quelled rage of both combined.
He dragged his gaze over to meet hers, and the flash of her blue eyes twisted into him.
His words were low and tight. “You’ve been making ties and cards instead of concentrating on schoolwork?”
She furrowed her brow. “Mr. Foley, Livie’s out of school for the summer.”
Mortified by not realizing that, he found a million other reasons to still be put out with the nanny.
“And what did you expect to accomplish by bringing her?”
She smiled oh-so innocuously. “Aside from the fact that you have a new tie, she wanted to wish you a Happy Father’s Day. In person. Coming here was a gift to her, too.”
Was this woman brazen enough to be pointing out his shortcomings to his face?
No one had dared before—not until after they were out of his employment.
Before he could erupt, she added, “We got a late start on driving, mostly because when I called your number, an assistant answered and said you wouldn’t be home until after seven.”
“Then you’d best get back to Austin, since it’s a long ride.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and her agenda hit him square in the middle of the forehead.
“You set this up so I’d feel compelled to have you both overnight,” he said. “Is that it?”
“I didn’t think it’d be such an imposition. She’s your daughter, not a nuisance.”
He shook his head, ready to terminate her employment. But…
Dammit all, he didn’t have time to go through another nanny search. He’d felt terrible enough after his daughter lost yet another caretaker. Besides, switching nannies so often did nothing for her structure, and Livie seemed to really be getting on well with this one.
But in the back of his thoughts, he wondered if there was another reason he was hesitating to let Melanie Grandy go…
Hell no.
Not even remotely.
Still, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the nanny was right. It was the eve of Father’s Day, and what kind of dad would he be to turn out his daughter?
Holding up a finger, he said, “One night, and I’m only agreeing to it because I don’t want you driving Livie home in the dark all that way.”
“Fair enough.”
Maybe he should add more for good measure. “I’m extremely busy, and I don’t want either of you underfoot.”
Hollow, he thought. It all sounded as hollow as he felt.
“I understand,” she said, her smile strained.
Then she turned around to retrieve two suitcases—one scuffed, one pristine.
Melanie Grandy’s and Livie’s baggage, he thought. But he wasn’t about to let it become his own.
After entering, the nanny set the suitcases by the circular staircase, then immediately went to Livie. He took up the luggage, intending to get it out of the way and into the upstairs guest rooms, where he wouldn’t have to look at it. His own bedroom was on the ground floor, so it would keep him removed, just the way he wanted it.
Yet, when he came back downstairs to hear his daughter and her nanny laughing about something or another on TV, he found himself walking toward them.
But then he changed direction, moving toward the sanctuary of his study.
But he could still hear them.
And weirdly enough, he kind of liked the sound.
Chapter Five
That night, Melanie couldn’t sleep. Not with Zane Foley in the same townhouse.
She lay in the guest bedroom with the sheets tangled around her legs, trying to find a position that worked.
But she was restless, unable to stop thinking about him. And when she paired the stimulation of just being in the same pheromonal range as Zane Foley with the fact that she hadn’t been intimate with a man for a long time, this resulted in one wide-awake woman.
For a while, she’d dated a Vegas bartender who nursed ambitions to open his own place, and the relationship had gotten serious enough, so that she’d developed what she’d believed could become serious feelings—at least until he dumped her. Otherwise, over the years, she spent her emotions wisely, knowing that sex didn’t feel right unless there were fireworks during kisses, and dreams of being with that man for the rest of her life.
But thoughts of intimacy with a certain nearby boss weren’t the only thing keeping her eyes wide-open tonight: it was also hard to wait until morning, when Father’s Day would really arrive.
Boy, she hated having to plot and scheme like this, but she’d seen Zane Foley’s eyes go gentle when Livie had given him that tie, and it had justified the chance Melanie had taken of losing her job altogether. However, if there’d been any sign of his closing himself entirely to Livie, Melanie would’ve cut the plan short and taken the little girl back home.
Yet, that hadn’t been the case.
It was clear that Zane Foley loved his daughter and he didn’t know how to show it. But Melanie wasn’t so simple as to think that the situation could be changed in the course of one holiday, because Danielle’s death had left too many scars.
As the grandfather clock downstairs struck twelve, Melanie sat up in bed. No use trying to sleep at all. Her mind and emotions were all over the place.
Maybe she could dig through his cupboard to see if he had any soothing tea?
Yeah. Right. Like he’d have tea. Yet, maybe he’d have some milk. Soothing, good old milk worked every time.
Melanie crawled out of her guest bed, then adjusted her above-the-knee, rose-sprigged linen nightgown and headed for the door.
The clock stopped chiming as she crept down the hall past Livie’s room, where Melanie peeked in to find the girl sprawled over the mattress, all relaxed knees and elbows.
Sleeping like a rock, as always, Melanie thought.
Warmth lodging in her upper chest, she shut the door and continued on her way. Down the circular stairs, quietly, slowly. Toward the kitchen.
But before she got there, she heard something in the living room. A wall blocked her view, but that didn’t stop her from wondering if it was Zane.
Her heart butted against her chest.
Was he up, too?
She peered around the wall, but she must’ve already made some noise, because she saw him under the light of a dim Tiffany lamp, shoving some object into a small chest, his shoulders hunched.
Heart