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Liam needed to back away from his nanny. Quickly.
“About that kiss,” he said, his voice heavy with the emotions pulling at him. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“You said that last time.”
“And I meant it last time. I’m sorry for both times.”
She sighed. “So am I. We had good reasons not to do it again.”
“Your life is in disarray.” Though he still didn’t know what that meant exactly. “How about we don’t bother with the reasons, we simply agree that it’s not a path forward that either of us is interested in exploring.”
“That might be best,” she said softly.
The aching sadness in her voice tore at his heart. “Jenna, just because I don’t think we should repeat the experience, doesn’t mean that wasn’t an amazing kiss.” He looked her directly in the eyes. “It was. Amazing, that is.”
* * *
The Nanny Proposition is part of the No.1 bestselling series from Mills & Boon® Desire™ —Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men … wrapped around their babies’ little fingers.
The Nanny
Proposition
Rachel Bailey
RACHEL BAILEY developed a serious book addiction at a young age (via Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddle-Duck) and has never recovered. Just how she likes it. She went on to earn degrees in psychology and social work, but is now living her dream—writing romance for a living.
She lives on a piece of paradise on Australia’s Sunshine Coast with her hero and four dogs, where she loves to sit with a dog or two, overlooking the trees and reading books from her evergrowing to-be-read pile.
Rachel would love to hear from you and can be contacted through her website, www.rachelbailey.com.
MILLS & BOON
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This book is for all the writing dogs who’ve kept me company. Not every dog I’ve had has been a writing dog, but a few have made it part of their role: Sascha, my first writing dog, who lay in her basket beside my desk and kept my writing time safe by growling at anyone—human or dog—who entered the room. Oliver, who sleeps nearby when I write and reminds me to keep my chocolate levels up (and to toss him a dog chocolate while I’m at it). Fergus, who likes to sleep under my desk, dreaming his dog dreams. Dougal, who ensures I don’t spend too long at my desk in each stint by nudging me to take him for a game of dog tennis. Roxie, who sits on the lounge beside me during writing days at my mother’s house. And especially Jazzie May, who passed away while I was writing The Nanny Proposition. In between perimeter patrols and naps by the office door, she’d sit by my desk and give me her big smile and ask if I needed anything—a dog to pat, perhaps? Hugs to you, my Jasmine Maybelline.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my editor, Charles Griemsman, who has a fabulous eye for story and the patience of a saint. Also to Amanda Ashby for the brainstorming and waffles, and Claire Baxter, who helped create a new country. And Cheryl Lemon for the information on California (though any mistakes are mine). But mostly, thanks to Barbara DeLeo and Sharon Archer, the best critique partners in the world.
Contents
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
Liam Hawke held the cell phone tightly against his ear, but it didn’t help. The person on the other end of the phone wasn’t making any sense.
“Mr. Hawke? Are you there?”
“Hang on a moment,” he said and pulled his Jeep to the side of the road. At his brother’s enquiring stare, Liam said in an undertone, “Listen,” and hit the speaker button on his cell. “Can you repeat that, please?”
“I’m a midwife at the Sacred Heart Hospital and I just informed you that you’ve become a father. Congratulations.” Liam frowned, Dylan’s eyes widened and the woman continued. “Your daughter, Bonnie, is two days old and still here with her mother. Unfortunately, her mother has had some complications following the birth and has asked me to contact you. It would be best if you came right away.”
A baby? Dylan mouthed as Liam loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt, which had suddenly become too tight. There had to be a mistake. Babies didn’t magically appear. Usually there was nine months’ notice, for one thing.
The L.A. sun shone down on them through the sunroof as Liam swallowed and tried to get his voice to work. “Are you sure you have the right person?”
“You’re Liam John Hawke?” she asked.
“I am.”
“You were in a relationship with Rebecca Clancy?”
“Yes” —if you could call their arrangement a relationship— “but she wasn’t