How ironic that her parents’ initial reservations about Travis had been so very far off base. They’d begged him to sign a prenuptial agreement. She’d told them to take their prenup and go to hell. Travis had insisted he didn’t care and signed the papers anyway. She thought she’d found her dream man, finally someone who would love her for herself.
Not that the contract had mattered in the end since her father had blown through the whole fortune anyway. By the time they’d broken up, her ex hadn’t wanted anything to do with her, her messy family dysfunction, or what he called her germaphobic ways.
The way Travis had simply fallen out of love with her had kicked the hell out of her self-esteem there for a while. She couldn’t even blame the breakup on another woman. No way in hell was she going to let a man have control of her heart or her life ever again.
All the more reason she had to make a go of her cleaning business and establish her independence. She had no other marketable skills, apart from a host of bills and a life to rebuild in her beloved hometown.
So here she was, on a plane bound for St. Augustine with a stranger and two heart-tuggingly adorable babies. The coastline looked miniscule now outside the window as they reached their cruising altitude.
“Hey, Alexa?”
Seth’s voice pulled her attention away from the view. He stood in the archway between the cockpit and the seating area.
Her stomach jolted again. “Shouldn’t you be flying the plane?”
“It’s on autopilot for the moment. Since the kids are sleeping, I want you to come up front. The flight isn’t long, but it will give us the chance to talk through some specifics about your time with the twins.”
She saw the flinty edge of calculation in his jewel-toned eyes. He may have offered her a deal back at the airport, but now he intended to interview her further before he turned over his children to her. A flicker of admiration lit through the disdain she had felt for him earlier.
Giving each baby another quick check and finding them snoozing away, binkies half in, half out of their slack mouths, she unbuckled, reassured she could safely leave them for a few minutes. She walked the short distance to Seth and stopped in the archway, waiting for him to move back to the pilot’s seat.
Still, he stood immobile and aloof, other than those glinting green eyes that swept over her face. The crisp scent of him rode the recycled air to tempt her nose, swirling deeper inside her with each breath. Her breasts tingled with awareness, her body overcome with the urge to lean into him, press the aching fullness of her chest against the hard wall of manly muscles.
She shivered. He smiled arrogantly as if completely cognizant of just how much he affected her on a physical level. Seth stepped back brusquely, returning to the pilot’s spot on the left and waving her into the copilot’s seat on the right.
Strapping in, she stared at the gauges around her, the yoke moving automatically in front of her. Seth tapped buttons along the control panel and resumed flying the plane. Still, the steering in front of her mirrored his movements until she felt connected to him in some mystical manner.
She resented the way he sent her hormones into overdrive with just the sound of his husky voice or the intensity of his sharp gaze. She was here to do a job, damn it, not bring a man into her already too complicated life.
Twisting her fingers together in her lap, she forced her thoughts back to their jobs. “What’s so important about this particular meeting that it can’t be rescheduled?”
“I have small mouths to feed. Responsibilities.” He stayed steadily busy as he talked, his eyes roving the gauges, his hands adjusting the yoke. “Surely you understand that, and if not, then I don’t even need to read your proposal.” He winked.
“Thank you for the Business 101 lecture, Mr. Jansen.” She brushed specks of dust from a gauge. “I was really just trying to make conversation, but if you’re more comfortable hanging out here alone, I’ll be glad to return to the back.”
“Sorry… And call me Seth,” he said with what sounded like genuine contrition. “Long day. Too many surprises.”
She glanced back at the sleeping babies, suddenly realizing they had miniature versions of his strong chin. “I can see that. What do you do to relax?”
“Fly.”
He stared out at the expanse of blue sky and puffy clouds, and she couldn’t miss the buzz radiating from him. Jansen Jets wasn’t just a company to him. He’d turned his hobby, his true love, into a financial success. Not many could accomplish such a feat. Maybe she could learn something about business from him after all.
“You were looking forward to this time in the air, weren’t you? What should have been your relaxing hour for the day has become a stressor.”
“I’ve gotta ask…” He looked over at her quickly, brow furrowed. “Is the psychoanalysis included in the cleanup fee?”
She winced as his words hit a little too close to a truth of her own. Travis used to complain about that same trait. Well, she did have plenty of practice in what a shrink would say after all the time she’d spent in analysis as a teenager. The whole point had been to internalize those healthier ways of thinking. She’d needed the help, no question, but she’d also needed her parents. When they hadn’t heard her, she’d started crying out for their attention in other ways, ways that had almost cost her life.
Her thoughts were definitely getting too deep and dark, and therefore too distracting. Something about this man and his children made her visit places in her mind she normally kept closed off. “Like I said, just making small talk. I thought you wanted me to come up here for conversation, to dig a little deeper into the background of your new, temporary nanny. If you don’t want to chat, simply say so.”
“You’re right. I do. And the first thing I’ve learned is that you don’t back down, which is a very good thing. It takes a strong person to stand up to the twins when they’re in a bad mood.” He shuddered melodramatically, his complaint totally undercut by the pride in his voice. Mr. Button-Up Businessman loosened up a little when he spoke of his kids. “What made you trade in your white gloves at tea for white glove cleaning?”
So he knew a little about her privileged upbringing as well. “You did more than just read my cover letter.”
“I recognized your name—or rather your return to your maiden name. Your father was once a client of a competing company. Your husband chartered one of my planes.”
“My ex-husband,” she snapped.
He nodded, his fingers whitening as his grip tightened on the yoke. “So, back to my original question. What made you reach for the vacuum cleaner?”
“Comes with the business.”
“Why choose this particular line of work?”
Because she didn’t have a super cool hobby like he did? She’d suffered a rude awakening after her divorce was finalized a year ago, and she realized she had no money and no marketable skills.
Her one negligible talent? Being a neat-freak with a need to control her environment. Pair that with insights into the lifestyles of the rich and spoiled and she’d fashioned a career. But that answer sounded too half-baked and not particularly professional.
“Because I understand the needs of the customer, beyond just a clean space, I know the unique services that make the job stand out.” True enough, and since he seemed to be listening, she continued, “Keeping records of allergies, favored scents, personal preferences for the drink bar can make the difference between a successful flight and a disaster. Flying in a charter jet isn’t simply an air taxi service. It’s a luxury experience and should be treated as such.”
“You understand the world since you lived in it.”
Lived. Past tense. “I want to be successful on my own merits rather than mooch off the family coffers.”
Or at least she liked to think she would have felt that way if there had been any lucre left in the Randall portfolio.
“Why work in this particular realm, the aircraft world?” He gestured around the jet with a broa
d hand.
Her eyes snagged on the sprinkling of fair hair along his forearm. Tanned skin contrasted with the white cuffs of his rolled up sleeves and wow did her fingertips ever itch to touch him. To see if his bronzed-god flesh still carried the warmth of the sun.
It had been so long since she’d felt these urges. Her divorce had left her emotionally gutted. She’d tried dating a couple of times, but the chemistry hadn’t been there. Her new business venture consumed her. Or rather, it had until right now, when it mattered most.
“I’m missing your point.” No surprise since she was staring at his arm like an idiot.
“You’re a…what…history major?”
“Art history, and being that close means you read my bio. You do know a lot more about me than you let on at first.”
“Of course I do or I never would have asked you to watch my children. They’re far more precious to me than any plane.” His eyes went hard, leaving no room for doubt. Any mistakes with his son and daughter would not be tolerated. Then he looked back at the sky, mellow Seth returning. “Why not manage a gallery if you need to fill your hours?”
Because she would be lucky if working in a gallery would cover rent on an apartment or a lease on an economy car, much less food and economic stability. Because she wanted to prove she didn’t need a man to be successful. And most importantly, because she didn’t ever again want the freaked out feeling of being less than six hundred dollars away from bankruptcy.
Okay, sort of melodramatic since she’d still owned jewelry she could hock. But still scary as hell when she’d sold off her house and car only to find it barely covered the existing loans.
“I do not expect anyone to support me, and given the current economy, jobs in the arts aren’t exactly filling up the want ad sections. Bethany has experience in the business, while I bring new contacts to the table. We’re a good team. Besides, I really do enjoy this work, strange as that may seem. While A-1 has employees who handle cleaning most of the time, I pitch in if someone’s out sick or we get the call for a special job. I enjoy the break from office work.”
“Okay, I believe you. So you used to like art history, and now you enjoy feeding people’s Evian habits and their need for clean armrests.”
The deepening sarcasm in his voice had her spine starching with irritation. “Are you making fun of me for the hell of it or is there a purpose behind this line of questioning?”
“I always have a purpose,” he said as smoothly as he flew the plane. “Will your whim of the week pass, once you realize people take these services for granted and your work is not appreciated? What happens to my aircraft then? I’ll be stuck wading through that stack of proposals all over again.”
He really saw her as a flighty, spoiled individual and that stung. It wasn’t particularly fair, either. “Do you keep flying even when people don’t appreciate a smooth or on-time flight, when they only gripe about the late or bumpy rides?”
“I’m not following your point here. I like to fly. Are you saying you like to clean?”
“I like to restore order,” she answered simply, truthfully.
The shrinks she’d seen as a teen had helped her rechannel the need for perfection her mother had drilled into Alexa from birth. She’d stopped starving herself, eased off searching the art world for flawless beauty and now took comfort from order, from peace.
“Ah—” a smile spread over his face “—you like control. Now that I understand.”
“Who doesn’t like control?” And how many therapy sessions had she spent on that topic?
He looked over at her with an emerald-eyed sexy stare. The air crackled as if a lightning bolt had zipped between them. “Would you like to take over flying the plane?”
“Are you kidding?” She slid her hands under her thighs even though she couldn’t deny to herself just how tempting the offer sounded.
Who wouldn’t want to take a stab at soaring through the air, just her and the wide-open blue rolling out in front of the plane? It would be like driving a car alone for the first time. Pushing an exotic Arabian racehorse to gallop. Happier memories from another lifetime called to her.
“Just take the yoke.”
God, how she wanted to, but there was something in his voice that gave her pause. She couldn’t quite figure out his game. She wasn’t in the position to risk her livelihood or her newfound independence on some guy’s whims.
“Your children are on board.” She knew she sounded prim, but then hey, she was a nanny for the day.
“If it appears you’re about to send us into a nosedive, I’ll take over.”
“Maybe another time.” She leaped up from the seat, not about to get sucked into a false sense of control that wouldn’t last. “I think I hear Olivia.”
His low chuckle followed her all the way back to both peacefully sleeping children.
Alexa could hear his husky laugh echoing in her ears two hours later as they settled into their luxurious hotel room in St. Augustine, Florida.
She had seen the best of the best lodgings and the Casa Monica—one of the oldest hotels in the United States—was gorgeous by any standards, designed to resemble a castle. The city of St. Augustine itself was rich with history and ornate Spanish architecture, the Casa Monica being a jewel. The hotel had been built in the 1800s, named for St. Monica, the mother of St. Augustine, the city’s namesake.
And here she was with Seth and his babies. She could use a little motherly advice from a patron saint’s mom right now.
She also needed to find some time to touch base with Bethany at work. Even though she was sure Bethany could manage—it had been her company at one time—she really did need to speak with her partner and give Bethany her contact information.
Seth had checked them into one of the penthouse suites, with a walk-out to a turret with views of the city. The suite had two bedrooms connected by a sitting area. The mammoth bath with a circular tub called to her muscles, which ached from working all day then lugging one of the baby carriers around. Then her thoughts went to images of sharing the tub with a man…not just any man…
She turned back to the room, decorated in blue velvet upholstery and heavy brocade curtains. Seth had claimed the spare bedroom, leaving her the larger master with two cribs inside. She trailed her fingers over the handle to Olivia’s car seat on the floor beside the mission style sofa in the sitting room. Olivia’s brother rested in his car seat next to hers.
“Your twins sleep well. They’re making this job too easy, you know.”
“Pippa doesn’t believe in bedtimes. They usually nap hard their first day with me.” Seth strode into the spare bedroom. “Expect mayhem soon enough when they wake up recharged. Owen’s a charmer, so much so it’s easy to miss the mischief he’s plotting. He’s always looking for the best way to stack furniture and climb his way out. You can see where he’s already had stitches through his left eyebrow. As for Olivia, well, keep a close eye on her hands. She loves to collect small things to shove up her nose, in her ears, in her mouth…”
Affection swelled from each word as he detailed his children’s personalities. The man definitely loosened up when around his kids or when he was talking about them. He seemed to know his offspring well. Not what she would have expected from a distant dad. Intrigued, she moved closer.
Through the open door, she could see him drape his suit coat on the foot of the bed. He loosened his tie further and unbuttoned his collar, then worked the buttons free down his shirt.
Alexa backed toward her own room. “Um, what are you doing?”
Seth slipped his still-knotted tie over his head and untucked the shirt. “Owen kicked his shoes against me when I picked him up after we landed.” He pointed to smudges down the left side. “I need to change fast before my meeting.”
His all-important meeting. Right. Seth had told her he was having dinner with a bigwig contact downstairs and she could order whatever she wanted from room service. He would be back in two to three hours. If she coul
d get the kids settled in the tub, she could sit on the side and make some work calls while watching them. Check voice mail and email on her iPhone, deal with the standard million missed calls from her mom before moving on to deal with work. Her staff wasn’t large, just four other employees, including Bethany. Her partner was slowing down, but could hold down the fort. In the event an emergency arose, Bethany would make sure things didn’t reach a boiling point. So she was in the free and clear to spend the night here. With the kids.
And Seth.
She thumbed a smudge from the base of the brass lamp. “Can’t have shoe prints all over you at the big meeting. That’s for sure.”
“Could you look in the hang-up bag and get me another shirt?”
“Right, okay.” She spun away before he undressed further. She charged over to the black suitcase resting on top of a mahogany luggage rack.
Alexa tugged the zipper around and…oh my. The scent of him wafted up from his clothes, which should be impossible since they were clean clothes. But no question about it, the suitcase had captured the essence of him and it was intoxicating.
Her fingers moved along the hangers until she found a plain white shirt mixed in with a surprising amount of colorful others. Mr. Buttoned-up Businessman had a wild side. An unwelcome tingle played along her skin and in her imagination. She slapped the case closed.
Shirt in hand, she turned back to Seth who was now wearing only his pants and a T-shirt. His shoulders stretched the fabric to the limit. Her fingers curled into the shirt in her hands, her fingertips registering Sea Island Cotton, high-end, breathable, known for keeping the wearer’s body cool throughout the day.
Maybe she could use some Sea Island Cotton herself because she was heating up.
Alexa thrust the shirt toward him. “Will this do?”
“Great, thanks.” His knuckles brushed hers as she passed over his clothes as if they were intimately sharing a space.
And more.
Awareness chased up her wrist, her arm, higher still as the intimacy of the moment engulfed her. She was in a gorgeous hotel room, with a hot man and his beautiful children, helping him get dressed. The scene was too wonderful. Too close to what she’d once dreamed of having with her ex.
Billionaire's Jet Set Babies Page 3
