by Leslie North
The elevator doors swept open twenty floors above the lobby and Mitch gestured for her to step through.
But she couldn’t move—not right away, at least. The sight of the penthouse in front of her stole her breath for a moment, and all she could do was stare. A white, glittering foyer greeted them, a wide hallway leading toward enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Manhattan.
She’d lived in this city her entire life, but she never tired of seeing it from high up. The view was gorgeous. This tiling was gorgeous. This man was gorgeous.
“Come in, please,” Mitch urged, snapping her out of her trance. She drifted forward, gaze bouncing off all the interesting facets of this penthouse. The sleek steel accents against the black countertops she glimpsed walking past the kitchen. The blue and gray rug in the living room, which matched the blue and gray blanket lying messy on the couch, as if he’d spent the night before with some Netflix.
After a whole young adulthood of being warned away from rich men and the trappings of wealth, her mother would have been dismayed to learn that she was here, of all places. Smack dab in the middle of a billionaire’s penthouse, actively being swept away by his trappings of wealth.
“Your place is incredible,” Jules breathed, hating that she sounded as awe-struck as she felt. Mitch didn’t even act bashful. Why should he?
“Thanks. I think so too.” He led her toward the windows, where a small cluster of slate-gray armchairs were gathered around a low wood table. “Please sit. Make yourself at home. This is your home, too, as long as you need it to be.”
Jules was about to thank him when a buzzing noise sounded through the penthouse. Mitch hurried around a corner, and a moment later she heard the dull undertones of another voice and then footsteps. A hotel employee appeared a moment later, rolling a crib behind him. Mitch carried a wooden changing table, which he set down in front of the windows.
“Where did he…?” Then the baby started fussing, as if she could sense that her necessities were here.
“There’s a service elevator off the kitchen,” he explained, arranging the changing table while the employee made another trip to get more baby things.
“Wow. So your workers can just stop in and make a surprise visit?”
“Oh no,” he said. “There are very strict rules for the use of the service elevator. It will never open unless I allow it.”
“Interesting,” she said, unable to fight the grin as she looked around. This was like being on a different planet altogether. Service elevators? This was a modern-day Victorian mansion, Manhattan style. “I clearly don’t live in a penthouse, so please forgive my ignorance.”
He grinned, a dimple flashing. “Most people don’t. And I get it. It’s a little weird. But it makes the most sense for being the COO of the family business. I’m always on-site to handle problems, and who better to live in the hotel than the hotelier’s son himself?”
The baby’s wriggling and fussing escalated into a full-blown cry. The employee re-entered a moment later, dropping off a big case of baby items—wipes, diapers, even some Denton-branded onesies. Who knew if they were her size, but it was better than nothing at this point. Mitch slipped the employee a bill that looked a lot like a hundred, and the service elevator buzzed a few moments later.
“Wow.” Jules wasn’t even sure what she was commenting on at this point. Everything was impressive, from the décor to the quickness with which his demands were fulfilled to the fact that he had this freaking view. She set the baby down on the new changing table, her gaze snagged by the sprawling city before her. The Hudson river wound through the city, while the snowfall began to blanket the concrete and the parked cars lining the streets below.
Mitch came over to the table, swiping his thumb over the baby’s forehead. “Does she need a diaper change or a bath or something?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.” Jules grinned down at the infant. Her past nannying experience was always for six months plus, with a preference for toddlers. This child couldn’t have been more than two months old, which meant Jules didn’t have as much know-how.
Not that she ever did to begin with. Not like she’d thought when she’d first started nannying.
Jules undid the swaddle and found the baby in a tattered onesie and a newborn size diaper, which looked way too small for her. Her heart sank. Maybe her family was poverty stricken. Maybe dropping her off at the front doors of a hotel really was the best decision.
She might never know.
“Oh, honey,” Jules murmured, carefully opening the bloated diaper. “Can you pass me some wipes, please?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. Sure. Just, uh…” Mitch poked around in different bags until he finally lifted a package. “Are these wipes?”
“Sure are.” She smiled as he tugged out a few wipes and then placed them carefully along the side of the changing table. Like this was his way of really helping. “Now I need you to see if you can find a size one or two diaper in there.”
“Size one or two?” he repeated, sounding uncertain as he assessed the boxes of baby things. “How will I know?”
“It should say on the box, or the diaper itself.” Jules carefully wrapped up the full diaper, cooing down at the girl as Mitch continued his search.
“Ah ha!” A moment later he delivered a small white diaper and looked proud. “Here it is. Size one. Got it.”
Warmth spread through her. She hadn’t ever really imagined what starting a family might be like, much less imagined the guy she might start it with. But this right here—playing new parents with a successful hottie like Mitch—was more fun than she’d anticipated.
“Do you want to change her diaper?” she teased as she slid the new one under the little girl’s butt.
“I should watch you at least once before I attempt it,” Mitch said, his brows drawn together as he watched her movements.
“Have you ever changed a diaper before?” Jules fastened the diaper and then carefully removed the tattered onesie.
“Will you be absolutely shocked if I say no?”
A laugh rocketed out of her. “I’d be absolutely not shocked. There probably isn’t much time for diaper changing while running an international hotel chain, is there?”
“That and a startling lack of babies in my family.” Mitch gave her a warm smile, one that sent heat flashing through her. The man was too good looking. Too easy to be around and talk to, even with an orphaned baby and lots of unmade decisions between them. “I’m not married, and my brother hasn’t had kids yet. I can’t even remember the last time I was around a kid that wasn’t the child of a hotel guest.”
“And your parents don’t want grandbabies?”
He shrugged. “My mom would have loved them, I’m sure. She passed away several years ago, though. And my father, well…he’s still in business mode.”
Jules grimaced. This was supposed to be the fun, get-to-know-you portion of the evening, but she’d already stuck her foot in her mouth. “Sorry. I mean, about your mom. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine. You wouldn’t have known. Unless you freakishly follow my family in the papers or something.”
Jules laughed again, running her fingers up and down the baby’s legs. “No stalker here. Just your regular old contracted event planner.” Besides, she would have been lost if she’d known about Mitch Denton years ago. He was the type of man you fell for and never came back from. A game-changing crush. The type of boy she could have fallen for in high school and never forgotten about.
“Regular.” He wore a strange smile as he brushed past her. “Right. Let me show you where you can stay tonight, and then I say we settle in for the storm.”
“Settle in?” She wrapped the blanket around the baby again and scooped her up into her arms. “Does that mean room service and a hot tub?”
Mitch looked over his shoulder at her, a smile so slick that her core tightened. “If you want it to, absolutely.”
6
Mitch sat in the living roo
m, the baby in his arms, while Jules freshened up in the guest suite. The whole situation still seemed surreal to him—bombshell house guest, tiny defenseless baby without any parents, and now the storm. The world beyond those thick glass planes overlooking the city had turned into a white sheet just in the short amount of time Jules had been in her room.
When she came back out to the living room, she gasped.
“Holy shit!” Her gaze was fastened on the falling snow, but Mitch’s gaze slid to that delectable curve beneath her skirt. He wet his bottom lip, unable to stop his thoughts from turning south.
“So the forecasts were right,” she concluded, heading over to the couch. As she sank back into the cushions, he remembered they were probably in for the rest of the evening and night. Which meant she had no clothes to speak of.
“Since you’re trapped here, I can lend you clothes,” he offered, yanking his gaze off the line where her black pants met the buttons of her shirt. The longer he watched her, the more he wondered what he might find underneath those sharp clothes. “Something to sleep in. Whatever you need.”
“Can I get a Denton onesie too?” she joked, nodding toward the baby. They’d dressed her in the Denton Hotel onesie with a small pair of sweatpants to match and some oversized socks they’d found in the box of baby things. “After my unexpected stay here, I can rep the brand with confidence now.”
Mitch laughed, enjoying the scent of her amber-laced perfume that drifted his way as she relaxed nearby. He watched the baby for a few more moments. She’d drifted off to sleep again after he’d given her a bottle, which felt like a small victory. He could handle the baby thing, sort of. As long as Jules was here, at least.
“What do you think her name is?” he asked.
Jules tutted. “I wish her mom or dad had left that little detail on the note. Maybe we should name her.”
Mitch nodded. “That’s a good idea. We can’t just keep calling her ‘girl’ or ‘baby.’”
“Right.” Jules fell silent and nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “The note said that she wanted her to have a better Christmas. So maybe we should call her, like, Noelle.”
“Noelle.” Mitch watched as the girl’s chest rose and fell softly. “I think it’s beautiful. And very appropriate.”
“Good.” Jules smiled wide, leaning closer to look down at the baby. The warmth in her face was hard to look away from. “It’s nice to meet you, Noelle.”
“A true pleasure,” Mitch added, directed toward the girl. He gently laid Noelle down on the couch, where she continued snoozing.
“She’s really passed out,” Jules said. “She even slept through her naming ceremony.”
“That’s okay. We can celebrate on her behalf, right?” Mitch pushed to standing, heading toward the small bar in the adjoining room. “Do you prefer wine, whiskey, or rum?”
“Um…whiskey?” Jules said.
“You don’t sound very sure,” Mitch called out as he pulled out a bottle of Scotch whiskey.
“I like all of them. And, well, isn’t it a little early to be getting drunk?”
“We’re not getting drunk. Just having a toast.” He poured them each a finger of whiskey and brought the tumblers back over to the couch where she sat. Jules had lined the couch with pillows so the baby wouldn’t tumble over the edge…not that she moved all that much. “Now’s as good a time as any. Since Noelle is asleep.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Jules received the tumbler gratefully. Mitch raised his glass.
“Here’s to the strangest day of my entire life,” he said, and Jules dissolved into laughter. She looked up at him in a way that made him feel like he’d known her for years instead of hours. Like this woman held her own secrets as well as his. “To rescuing children, to planning parties, and to weathering the storm.”
“Hear! Hear!” Jules agreed, and they clinked tumblers gently. Mitch tossed his back in one gulp while Jules took delicate sips.
“This stuff is good,” she said.
“That’s why it only comes out on the most special days.”
“Yeah. I guess this day is pretty special, huh?” Jules fingered the leather seam of his couch, her gaze turning shy as she looked up at him.
His chest went tight, and he couldn’t say why.
All he knew was that it felt a little too right to have the two of them here.
He and Jules whiled away the evening between diaper changes, feedings, and preparing the most lavish feast they could with the scant ingredients in his fridge. Though Jules was horrified by how empty his kitchen was, he reminded her that he was a bachelor living inside a super-stocked hotel—which meant a certain co-dependence on the amenities of the main floor.
Despite a fantastic and surprisingly fun evening together playing house, they both went to bed early. Jules offered to keep Noelle’s crib in her room that night, and Mitch had to bite his tongue against the suggestion that they share a bedroom. He’d known this woman a day. They’d broken a lot of unspoken rules by sharing his penthouse on the first night of caring for this baby, and he didn’t want to push the envelope too far.
But something about Jules felt familiar. The thought haunted him even through his sleep, showing up in the form of strange dreams and a sort of distant alertness, waiting for Jules to appear in his room or for the cry of the baby.
In the course of a day, he’d turned into a watchful surrogate father. That one night of sleeplessness was as close as he’d ever gotten to the newborn phase. Yet.
The next morning, he awoke earlier than normal—partly out of anxiety, wondering how Jules and Noelle had fared overnight, and also to check the weather. He pulled on pajama pants and a cotton T-shirt before wandering out into the penthouse. It was nearly seven, and the sunrise was just cresting. The entire house was full of milky blue light, caught between night and dawn.
Mitch yawned, scratching at his chest as he headed for the kitchen, but stopped suddenly when he saw the swaying figure of Jules in the kitchen.
“Good morning,” he said quietly. She turned to face him, Noelle’s tiny body cradled in her arms. “Is everything okay?”
“She woke up for a feeding, and I’m just rocking her back to sleep,” she whispered, but she looked tired. Really tired.
“Let me take her.” He held out his hands so it wouldn’t be a question, and Jules gladly passed her over, yawning as she did so. “You go back to bed. I’ve got her.”
“You sure?”
Mitch nodded. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure, he’d figure it out. Jules wandered off, and he kept rocking Noelle, who had her lips pinched into the cutest little pout. Her one fist was clenched up by her face, and every so often she’d wriggle or twitch.
Mitch wandered toward the big windows in the hallway. The entire city was blanketed in white, and he stood for a long time just looking out over the quiet, snow-covered city. Moments like these—bathed in the hues of dawn in early December, observing the city in one of its rare quiet hours—was part of what he loved most about living in this penthouse.
“If only you were awake to see this,” he whispered, looking down at Noelle. He smiled at her, but it faded quickly. Noelle might never see a dawn from a vantage point like this. Who knew where she’d end up, once they dropped her off at Social Services?
The thought stuck with him as he wandered into the living room and settled down with her in his arms. He kicked up his feet and settled into the cushions. With his baby-bearing arm propped on the arm rest, he found a comfortable position easily.
He must have drifted off. A sing-song voice called out to him.
“Miiiitch.”
He jolted awake. Noelle still slept in his arms, but Jules leaned over the back of the couch, smiling at him. She looked significantly more rested now, with bed-tousled hair and an easy grin.
“Hey. Hi. Wow.” He yawned, sitting up slightly. “What time is it?”
“Just after nine. You were sleeping like a baby. Like Noelle.”
He rubbe
d at an eye, trying to orient himself. The weight of Noelle in his arms must have allowed him to drift off to sleep. Normally, he didn’t sleep this late—much less go back to sleep after he was up for the day.
“How do you feel?” he asked, shifting Noelle to the flat couch and lining the side with pillows like he’d seen Jules do. “Rested?”
“Much better now.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks for letting me tap out. I needed the morning nap.”
“No problem.” He pushed to standing and stretched out. “How’s the big bad snowstorm look?”
“From what I can tell from your eagle’s nest up here,” she teased, “New York is continuing as normal.”
“Hm. Interesting.” Mitch wandered back to the windows to verify this, and spotted streets full of cars—like any normal morning in NYC. “So…should we get started toward Social Services?”
Jules nodded, running her fingers through her loose hair. Dressed like this—in his old Boston U T-shirt and his soft shorts—she made it hard to want to leave this sweet little cocoon. Even though they needed to get Noelle into the appropriate hands…part of him just wanted to keep up this charade.
It was a nice counterbalance to the cold and lonely reality that normally filled this penthouse. A single workaholic bachelor, returning to an empty home every night.
“Let me get changed,” Jules said and hurried back down the hallway toward the guest rooms. While she changed and the baby slept, he got some coffee started and chowed down on a banana, saving half of it for her—since it was the only piece of fruit left in the penthouse. When she came back out into the kitchen, dressed in her black slacks and smart button-down from yesterday, it was hard to look away from her.
“I’m making us coffee,” he said and pulled out two mugs. “And I saved half of the last available banana, in case you’re starving.”
She snickered and picked up the proffered banana. She took a big bite, chewed, and then said, “Can’t you just call room service and have them deliver it in that fancy elevator?”
