The CEO's Nanny Affair

by Joss Wood

  It pissed her off.

  Tate opened her mouth to utter a very snarky comment, but he spoke first. “Ellie is crying.”

  Tate blinked, trying to make sense of his words. Who? What? Where?

  “The baby is crying, Tate. You need to go to her.”

  Through the monitor on the dining table Tate heard Ellie’s soft wail, heard the desolation in her muffled cry, and she snapped back to the here and now. Oh, God, the poor thing sounded like her heart was breaking. How long had she been crying? Minutes? An hour? Longer? How long had she and Linc kissed? She couldn’t tell, she’d lost all sense of time, and of reality.

  Oh, my God... She almost lost her freaking mind. She’d been a heartbeat away from asking her sister’s ex to do her on the kitchen counter!

  What must he think?

  And more important, what must Ellie think? Did she think that Tate had abandoned her just like her mother? Not wanting to make the little girl wait another minute, Tate whirled away from Linc and sprinted for the stairs.

  Yes, she was desperate to get to Ellie, but honesty made her admit that she was equally desperate to get away from Linc. She had absolutely no control of herself around him, and she thanked God for Ellie’s interruption. And for his keen ears because she hadn’t heard a damn thing.

  She’d been deaf, dumb, blind with lust for him...

  It was a very good thing, Tate thought as she sprinted up the stairs, that she was leaving tomorrow.

  Four

  Linc, after a night short on sleep and long on aggravation, hustled Shaw through his morning routine, trying not to think about the fact that he’d been so close to taking his ex’s sister on the kitchen counter the night before. He’d been desperate to know if she was as hot and honeyed as he expected, and his hands had been in her pants, about to push the fabric over her hips, when he’d heard Ellie crying. Would he have stopped if she’d slept through?

  Possibly. Maybe. Not a chance in hell.

  In his bedroom, Linc muttered a curse as he pulled on his shoes. What the hell happened last night? Yeah, he was horny; it had been a while since he’d last got lucky, but, crap, he never lost control like that. Even as a teenager and at his craziest with Kari, he’d never felt so desperate for a woman, so utterly and incomprehensibly caught up in pleasure.

  And the fact that he felt this way about his ex’s sister just pissed him off. Bloody Harper women. They had a way of turning his life upside down and inside out. But, he was compelled to admit, he hadn’t, not once, thought of Kari when he’d been kissing Tate. Thank God, because this situation was weird enough without getting them confused.

  And thank God again that Tate was leaving today because he didn’t know if he could spend another night tossing and turning and talking himself out of the urge to go to her room and finish what they’d started.

  The sooner Tate left, the better. The world could then stop trying to spin off its axis.

  She was the exact opposite of the woman he thought that he and Shaw might someday want. On those odd times when he wished that his life had turned out differently, he fantasized about a sexy, funny stay-at-home mother and lover, someone who adored Shaw. Someone who’d put him and his son at the center of her world, someone he’d trust to stay with him, surfing the waves of life with him and never swimming away.

  If he ever got to that place where he felt he could trust again, risk again, Linc knew that he’d want someone who believed in traditions, in order, someone who could fit into his life and who looked the part. He wanted a woman who was easy, and he wanted calm, a lake and not a storm-swept sea.

  Tate was exactly what he didn’t want or need. She’d create waves and whirlpools, the turbulence he tried to avoid at all costs in his personal life. The woman didn’t have a conventional bone in her body; her clothes were bohemian, and, according to Kari, they’d had an unstable upbringing. Tate was a modern-day nomad, a free spirit, innately unconventional.

  But, God, the way she kissed; it was a goddamn miracle they hadn’t set the brownstone and most of the block on fire.

  Linc walked into his closet, yanked a tie from his collection and draped it around his neck, fuming over the fact that he couldn’t think about Tate and her mouth and knot his tie into his customary perfect Windsor.

  He didn’t have enough blood in his brain to do both at the same time.

  “Dad, hurry up, Granny Jo is making pancakes,” Shaw shouted from the doorway to his room.

  Linc frowned. “She’s up?”

  Shaw nodded. “And she’s wearing lipstick. Hurry!”

  Linc followed Shaw downstairs, wondering what was going on. Jo was not a morning person, and he and Shaw rarely saw her before breakfast. He did the morning shift, Jo took the afternoons and, if he was slammed, the evening shift. Then Linc remembered that she wanted him to hire a nanny...

  Crap.

  Linc felt his stomach clench and wondered how he was going to solve that problem. He understood her need to spend more time with Gary, and it wasn’t an unreasonable request. His mother was entitled to a life that didn’t include the responsibility of looking after his son.

  But how was he supposed to trust a stranger with his heart and soul? If something happened to Shaw, he’d crumble. He trusted his mom, his siblings, but anyone else? Hell, no. Nobody would ever love Shaw or look after him like he did, but Jo came damn close.

  Well, thankfully, he didn’t need to figure it out immediately. Better off thinking about it when he didn’t have a came-close-to-having-sex-but-didn’t hangover, a headache from too much frustration and not enough sleep.

  Linc noticed Tate’s bags in the hallway, ready to be loaded in a taxi, and his heart bounced off his rib cage. He tasted panic in the back of his throat and briefly considered whether he was losing his mind. He definitely wanted her to leave; she couldn’t stay. Tate was cut from the same cloth as Kari, and the fabric was damaged, stained, torn. He needed another Harper woman in his life like he needed a hole drilled into his head.

  But, God, she looked good, Linc thought, as he stopped in the doorway to his kitchen. She looked, and Linc spat out a silent swear. Right. Tate sat at the kitchen table, bouncing Ellie on her knee as she listened to Shaw telling her about his favorite teacher at school.

  “She sounds really nice.” Tate ran a hand over Shaw’s head, totally engrossed in what he had to say. Tate leaned forward, her beautiful eyes sparkling with amusement. “And do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Yuck.” Shaw looked horrified.

  Tate laughed, and Linc felt as if she’d punched him in the throat. Her laugh was similar to Kari’s, but not. It was full-bodied and genuine and long on amusement and short on insincerity. Ellie, hearing her laugh, waved her hands around and laughed, too.

  God, this was what he’d wanted. Laughing kids, a gorgeous partner, Connor’s house filled with joy. He’d wanted this...with someone.

  But having it with a Harper woman was utterly out of the question.

  “Linc, you’re here. Excellent,” Jo said, noticing him hovering in the doorway. He kept his eyes on Tate’s face, and the laughter in her eyes faded along with the color of her skin. Then a blush appeared on her high cheekbones and mortification flashed in her eyes. So she was regretting last night’s madness, too.

  He still wanted to kiss the hell out of her, suck her nipples, slide his hand between her... Ballantyne! Pull yourself together!

  Linc headed for the coffee machine and, keeping his back to the room, yanked a cup from the cupboard and punched a button, mentally begging the machine to hurry up. He needed caffeine. Or a brain transplant. Either would do.

  Shoving his hand through his hair, he frowned at his mother. “Is there a reason that you are up and making us pancakes?” he asked, ignoring his mother’s narrowed eyes at his surliness.

  “Yes!�
�� Jo retorted, sounding far too chipper for someone who was not a morning person.

  Something about his mother’s cat-eating-canary expression made the hair on Linc’s neck rise. He lifted a hand and scowled at her. “No.” He nailed her with a hard look. “Whatever it is, just no.”

  Jo pointed her spatula at the table. “Sit down. And maybe you can remember your manners and say good morning to our guest.”

  How old was he? Ten? Linc shot Tate a look and saw the twitch on her lips suggesting amusement. “Good morning, Tate.” He ran his hand over Ellie’s soft curls. God, she was cute. “Morning, honey.”

  Ellie leaned away from Tate and smiled at him, revealing two little teeth. She lifted her chubby arms, so he picked her up and settled her on his hip where she immediately grabbed his tie and wrapped it around her fingers.

  “You don’t have to hold her,” Tate said, sounding subdued.

  “I like kids,” Linc told her. It was the truth; he did like kids. Babies didn’t scare him; he’d raised Shaw from the time he’d been born, and he never once regretted having him in his life. Shaw was the best thing that had ever happened to him. What the hell was Kari’s problem pulling this crap twice? Whether Tate decided to track her down or not, he was going to find his ex and force her to take responsibility for her kid.

  She’d refused to be part of Shaw’s life, and he no longer wanted her to be, but, God, she wasn’t giving up this baby without, at the very least, a reality check from him. He owed Shaw’s half sister that.

  Linc turned to see Jo, holding a platter of pancakes, staring at him. The corners of her mouth kicked up, and she nodded as she approached the table. “You’re going to track her down, aren’t you?”

  Not bothering to issue a denial—his mom wouldn’t believe him if he did—he just took his seat at the table and tucked Ellie into the crook of his arm.

  “I think that’s the right thing to do,” Jo said, placing the platter on the table between them. Linc forked up a couple of pancakes to put on Shaw’s plate before pushing the platter in Tate’s direction.

  “You’re going to find Kari?” Tate demanded, her eyes flashing a hard-to-miss warning.

  “I’m not going to let her get away with this again. It’s b...” Linc looked at Shaw and swallowed the swear. “It’s not acceptable, Tate.”

  “I never said it was,” she protested. “It’s just that I have a problem with you pursuing this. It’s my problem.” Tate’s hot gaze threatened to singe his skin. “I will handle it.”

  “My PI already tracked her down once. He will again,” Linc stated, using his best don’t-argue-with-me voice.

  “I’ll use your PI, but I’ll pay for him and I’ll deal with him,” Tate insisted, adamant. Linc heard the bite in her voice and sighed when he realized that her lifted nose and snotty expression turned him on. Yep, the party was starting to happen in his pants again...

  “He’s expensive.”

  “My problem, my money,” Tate leaned forward, and he was distracted by her gaping shirt and the fantastic flash of rose-lace-covered breasts and a cleavage he wanted to ravish with his tongue. Ah, damn, he thought as his blood pumped into his penis. Smooth, fragrant skin, her breathy encouragement in his ear, those small hands on his—

  “Linc will pay Reame, the PI. And you will pay him back by staying here and acting as Shaw’s nanny for the next two months.”

  Wait! What? Had he really heard what he thought he heard?

  “Mom! What the hell?” he demanded, dropping his fork and yanking his eyes off Tate’s fabulous cleavage. Ellie let out a squeal at his raised voice, and he gently patted her thigh to reassure her, and she quickly settled again.

  “I’m leaving today, Ms. Taylor,” Tate said, panic coating her words.

  “Call me Jo, darling.” Taking her seat next to Linc, she sent Tate a serene smile, but he immediately recognized the determination in her eyes.

  “And, no, you’re not. You need a place to stay, and you need to spend some time with Shaw. I need to spend some time with my man... We’re thinking about flying to the Bahamas for a week. Linc needs someone to look after Shaw.” Jo picked up a pancake from the platter, placed it on her plate and, not appearing to have a care in the world, cut a piece off and lifted it to her mouth. She winked at Shaw, who tried to wink back. “It’s the perfect solution for everyone.”

  “No, it’s not. That’s not going to work for me,” Linc stated, in his coldest voice, the one he never recalled using on his mother before.

  “It won’t work for me, either.” Tate said, her voice shaking.

  “Well, it works for me,” Jo replied, still as cheerful as a sunbeam. She looked at Linc, and he immediately noticed the build-a-bridge-and-get-over-it look that was a feature of his teenage years.

  “Linc, with your trust issues and your protective streak, it’ll take you months to make the decision to hire a nanny and another six to choose one. I choose Tate. She’s related to Shaw, she’s lovely—”

  He knew exactly how lovely she was, but that had no bearing on this conversation. “She knows nothing about kids! She’s unconventional and a free spirit and jet-setter!”

  Tate glared at him, looking like she wanted to argue, but at the last moment she nodded, surprising him by agreeing. “All true.”

  Jo looked from Tate and then at him. “What nonsense! Yesterday afternoon, I called her boss, the executive producer, Keith someone, and asked for a reference on Tate.”

  Tate looked aghast. “You did what?”

  Linc groaned. “God, Mom.”

  “According to her boss, Tate is punctual and easy to work with. As smart as a whip. She writes and coproduces her show and helps out with the logistics. But, best of all, she’s utterly reliable.”

  His mother, Linc thought darkly, could be damn annoying.

  “Oh, God,” Tate muttered, putting her head in her hands. After a moment she dropped her hands and narrowed her eyes at Linc. “She’s your mother, talk to her.”

  He’d try. “Mom, you can’t ambush us like this.”

  “Just did,” Jo replied, and Linc heard the familiar sound of a text message coming into a phone. Jo pulled her cell out of the back pocket of her designer jeans and swiped her finger across the screen. When she looked up again, her eyes glinted with amusement.

  “Gary’s booked our flights, and we’re leaving for the Caribbean at noon. Yay!” Jo stood up and shoved her phone back into her pocket. She grinned at Linc. “Unless you can find another nanny by noon or play hooky from work, Tate’s your only option to look after Shaw. And, Tate, stop being stubborn. You need a place to stay, and Linc, while he can be incredibly annoying and bullheaded on occasion, does know what he’s doing when it comes to babies. Stay here, spend some time with Shaw, enjoy the house.”

  Jo dropped a kiss on Shaw’s head, then Linc’s, then Ellie’s before wrapping her arms around Tate’s shoulders and hugging her tight.

  Linc had to strain his ears to hear her softly spoken words. “This is a good house, Tate. It can heal you if you let it.”

  * * *

  Tate watched Jo walk away and rubbed her suddenly throbbing forehead. What had just happened? She dropped her hand and looked at Linc, whose eyes held the fury of a hundred hurricanes.

  “Bloody Jo,” he muttered, and the words were barely out of his mouth before they heard the rumble of deep voices in the doorway. Tate turned around and blinked when a petite, stunning woman with long black hair stepped into the room, followed by two tall, well-built, immaculately dressed men. Damn, the Ballantyne men were a sexy bunch.

  The room filled with noise as Shaw jumped up to greet his aunt and uncles, flinging himself against hard legs before being boosted up and over rugged shoulders. Linc rolled his eyes and after ribs had been tickled and hair ruffled, he told Shaw to sit down and finish his brea
kfast. When Shaw resumed his place at the table, Linc glared at his siblings.

  “Yeah, you three are exactly what I need right now,” he said, sarcasm coating every word.

  Tate felt a flutter of nerves and bit her bottom lip, bracing herself for their hostility.

  “Pancakes! Sweet.” The tallest of the three Ballantyne brothers slid onto the chair opposite Tate and grabbed a plate. He flashed a grin as he forked a pile of pancakes onto his plate. “Tate, right?” he asked her. “The bride of Satan’s sister?”

  There was humor in his voice, and while his eyes remained wary, he didn’t seem to direct any hostility toward her. “I’m Tate and you’re...Beck?”

  Beck waved his fork at his older brother, who took a seat at the end of the table. “Yep. And that’s Jaeger and our sister, Sage.”

  Jaeger nodded a greeting as he pulled out a chair, clasping the ball of Linc’s shoulder before he sat down. “You’re looking a bit rough, dude.”

  “You have no freaking idea,” Linc muttered, glaring at Tate. She returned his blistering look, silently telling him not to blame this situation on her. This was his meddling mother’s idea, not hers!

  “Tate?”

  She turned her attention to Sage, who stood next to her chair. The young woman held out her hand, which Tate shook. “Hi, there. We understand that Kari has run off again?”

  “Yep.” Tate flicked an uncertain glance at Linc, who was pouring juice for Shaw. “I take it that your brother filled you in on my situation?”

  “We don’t keep secrets in this family,” Jaeger said, his voice growly. Tate looked at him, and she saw the warning in his eyes, on his face. Mess with my family and I’ll take you apart. Tate knew that this wasn’t the time to cower, so she held Jaeger’s eyes, and eventually, maybe, she saw a flicker of respect cross his face. A faint smile touched his lips, and then he turned to Linc. “So, what’s the plan of action? And leave some pancakes for me, Beck!”

  “The plan of action was for Tate to leave this morning. She was going to see a lawyer, I’m going to talk to Reame about tracking down Kari—”