The Billionaire's Christmas Baby

by Marion Lennox

  ‘How soon do you think you’ll be able to get me a nanny to replace Cindy until her leg’s healed?’ he asked.

  ‘I really don’t know, Mr Wallis. It depends how quickly my staff recover. It might be a week, or it might be a fortnight.’

  Although Jamie really wanted to shout at Felicity in utter frustration, he knew that would be counter-productive. Fran had always said you caught more flies with honey. His late wife had always been more patient with people than he had; he found it hard to be charming in the face of sheer incompetence. ‘This is going to be very difficult for me,’ he said, resisting the urge to twist the guilt by reminding Felicity that he was a single father and didn’t have anyone to take up the slack. ‘But could you please call me as soon as someone’s available?’

  ‘Of course, Mr Wallis. Thank you for being so understanding.’

  He forbore to comment, not trusting himself to stay polite.

  And now he had a problem. A big one. An unspecified time—anything between a few days and a couple of months—without a nanny, and even when someone became available it might not be for the whole period that Cindy was away. He was in the middle of setting up a new resort, so he simply couldn’t take the best part of the next few weeks off work to look after Sienna. He’d trusted the agency to deal with any situation like this, and they’d let him down. Badly.

  What the hell was he going to do?

  It was rare that he found himself in a situation where he wasn’t in complete control, and he hated the feeling of being helpless.

  Sophie Firth was sitting in the reception area outside his office. Right now, they were both in a mess. She needed someone to invest in her business quickly so she could afford to buy out her partner; and he needed a nanny for the next few weeks.

  He could maybe help her—especially as Eva was his late wife’s cousin and he ought to support his family—but right now he needed to focus on sorting out his immediate problem. He was going to have to turn her down.

  He took a deep breath and went out to the reception area. ‘Miss Firth, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ she said.

  He raked a hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry—I can’t help you right at this minute. Something’s cropped up and I need to deal with it.’

  * * *

  Just as Sophie had expected. She needed Plan C. Disappointment still flooded through her. He wasn’t even going to be honest and say he wasn’t interested.

  Something’s cropped up.

  And to think he’d called her on being vague.

  Then again, there was something akin to desperation in his eyes—as if something had happened and he didn’t have a clue how to deal with it. From the research she’d done on his company, she knew he was a shrewd businessman; his company had grown from strength to strength in the last few years, and even the death of his wife hadn’t affected the business. What could have happened to throw him like this?

  Before she could stop herself, the words came out. ‘Are you all right?’

  He looked at her in shock. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You look,’ she said, ‘as if someone just dropped something on you from a great height.’

  ‘You could say that.’ He sighed. ‘It’s my problem. I have to deal with it.’

  But he sounded as if he didn’t have the faintest clue where to start.

  This was none of her business. She had enough of a problem herself. She should just walk away. Instead, she found herself asking, ‘Can I get you a cup of tea or something?’

  She cringed even as the words came out. It was his office, not hers. What she was saying was totally inappropriate.

  But he smiled at her. The first real smile she’d seen from him. And it made her knees weak.

  ‘That’s kind,’ he said.

  ‘And inappropriate. Sorry.’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s kind,’ he repeated. ‘But at the moment tea isn’t going to help.’ He looked at her. ‘Given your business, you must know people in lots of different career areas. I don’t suppose you know any nannies, do you?’

  ‘Nannies?’

  ‘That call just now was from the agency which supplies the nanny who looks after my daughter. Cindy—our nanny—broke her leg last week when she was on a skiing trip. And the agency has nobody available to stand in for her right now.’

  So he needed childcare help?

  Maybe she could turn this into a win-win situation.

  ‘So I need someone to invest in Plans & Planes, and you need a nanny.’

  He looked at her. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said carefully, ‘there’s a solution that will work for us both. A business solution.’

  ‘You know a nanny?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ She took a deep breath. ‘What type of hours are we talking about?’

  ‘Sienna’s at nursery school five days a week, nine to four-thirty.’

  Long hours for a little one, she thought. ‘So your nanny takes her to nursery school, picks her up, and that’s it?’

  ‘And works evenings and weekends.’

  So when did Jamie Wallis spend time with his daughter? she wondered.

  More to the point, it made her own half-formed plan unworkable. Time management was one of her best skills, but even she couldn’t cram an extra twenty-four hours into a day. ‘Can that be negotiable?’ she asked.

  ‘How?’

  What was the worst he could do? Say no. Which was pretty much what she thought he’d say anyway. She had nothing to lose—and potentially a lot to gain. And she wasn’t afraid of hard work.

  ‘I could be your temporary nanny,’ she said, ‘and you could invest in my business.’

  He stared at her. ‘You’re a qualified nanny?’

  ‘Not a qualified nanny,’ she said. ‘But my parents’ next-door neighbours own a nursery school, and during sixth form I had a part-time job there—Wednesday afternoons, when I didn’t have lessons, and two hours after school on the other weekdays. So I have experience of working with under-fives. Even if it was ten years ago. Plus I have a four-year-old niece and a two-year-old nephew, and I’m a very hands-on aunt.’

  ‘Define “hands-on”.’

  ‘I see them every week. I babysit, so I do everything from playing to craft stuff and singing. I do bathtime, bedtime stories and the park.’ She looked at him. ‘I sometimes have to work with children as part of an event, so I—and all my staff—have an up-to-date Disclosure and Barring Service check certificate. And I’m happy to give you Anna’s details so she can give you a reference from my time at the nursery school.’

  * * *

  A quid pro quo.

  Sophie Firth wasn’t a qualified nanny, but she was the next best thing.

  ‘So you’d give up your job for the next two months?’ he asked.

  ‘No. That’s why I asked about compromise,’ she said. ‘My business partner is leaving in six weeks’ time. We need to reallocate all her work and recruit a new member of staff. Plus I already have a full diary. I can reallocate some of my work, and do the rest while Siena is at nursery school and at weekends.’

  So he’d be with Sienna twenty-four-seven. Just the two of them. His throat went dry at the idea. He couldn’t do it. ‘I need a nanny and weekends,’ he said.

  ‘I can do one day. Two halves, if that works better for you. But I need experienced staff, and recruitment takes time.’

  This was starting to sound workable. ‘I could lend you a couple of my staff to take off some of the pressure. Ones with experience in the travel industry and who’ve worked with—well, not events in the way you run them, but promotions. There must be a fair crossover in the skill sets involved.’

  ‘There is,’ she agreed.

  ‘So if I lend
you some staff, you’ll do the full weekend?’

  ‘Two half days or one full,’ she repeated.

  ‘I’m in the middle of negotiating a new resort. I can’t take time off work right now.’ That wasn’t the only reason, but he wasn’t discussing the rest of it with a total stranger. Even if she was potentially sorting out his huge headache.

  ‘You said you had siblings. Can’t they pitch in and help?’

  ‘They live too far away.’

  ‘What about your parents?’

  Absolutely not. His parents had never been hands-on when he and his sisters had been tiny. They’d always been focused on the business. Until the next generation was old enough to have their lives organised—and that was one of the reasons why his sisters had moved to Cumbria and Cornwall respectively. Gwen Wallis had tried to run their lives in the same way she ran her business. Not wanting to explain that, he shook his head.

  ‘I apologise if I’ve just trampled on a sore spot,’ she said softly. ‘That wasn’t my intention.’

  It sounded as if she thought his parents were elderly and frail, or had passed away. That wasn’t the case but it was too complicated to put into words. ‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘So you do weekends?’

  ‘Two half days or one full,’ she repeated.

  He wasn’t sure whether to be more exasperated or admiring. She wasn’t budging. Then again, she was already making a big compromise—giving up a large chunk of her working week and meaning that she’d be running two jobs at the same time.

  Admiring, he decided. Sophie Firth had a good work ethic—and she’d thought on her feet to come up with a solution that would benefit them both.

  This was crisis management. Good crisis management. She’d seen the problem, come up with a solution and seen where the gaps were. It was the best proof she could have given him that she was good at her job, and investing in her business would be a sound decision on his part.

  ‘Obviously I need to check out your references with the nursery school,’ he said.

  ‘And talk to Eva—you know her, and she’s known me since our first day at university. She can give you a personal reference.’ She took out her phone and handed it to him. ‘Just so you can be sure I’m not calling her while you’re otherwise occupied and priming her on what to say.’

  He really liked how quick she was. The way she thought. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was fighting for the survival of her own business, he’d be tempted to offer her a job as a project manager on his team.

  ‘All right. If your references check out, you’ve got a deal.’

  * * *

  She’d done it. Sophie knew that Anna and Eva would give her a good reference.

  But her conscience couldn’t quite leave it there.

  ‘Two caveats,’ she said.

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘Firstly, you’ll be strictly a sleeping partner in Plans & Planes, and you don’t interfere in the way I run things.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘What if I can see where you can make improvements to the business?’

  ‘You can make suggestions, but you don’t interfere,’ she said. ‘Though that’s not the deal-breaker.’

  He looked intrigued. ‘What is?’

  ‘Your daughter gets the final say.’

  He frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘She meets me. We spend some time together. And then you ask her—and not in front of me—if she’d like me to look after her while her nanny gets better. If she says no, then it’s a no.’

  He nodded. ‘That’s fair. And it also tells me you’re the right person for the job, because you’re putting her needs first.’

  But why wasn’t he? Sophie wondered. Yes, he had a business to run—but it was much bigger than hers. He could delegate a lot of his work. Why didn’t he take the time off to look after his daughter?

  Given that she’d already made a gaffe about his parents, this wasn’t something she could ask directly. She’d need to be tactful.

  ‘Okay. I’ll talk to Eva and your parents’ neighbour. Can you give me the numbers?’ he asked.

  He didn’t know Eva’s number? Well, maybe Fran—as Eva’s cousin—would have been the one to stay in touch. ‘You’re probably best to call her at Plans & Planes.’ She gave him the office number. ‘Failing that, this is her mobile.’

  He wrote the numbers down as she dictated them. ‘Thank you.’

  * * *

  Anna Harris confirmed everything Sophie had told him.

  ‘She worked for me during sixth form—two hours at the end of the school day, plus Wednesday afternoons. The kids loved her. I did try to persuade her to do her degree in early years education, but her heart was set on doing English.’ Anna paused. ‘I thought she was running her own business?’

  ‘She is. She’s, um, doing me a favour,’ Jamie admitted.

  ‘Ah. Typical Sophie. Of course you’re right to check her out, but I have no hesitation in recommending her.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jamie said.

  It almost felt superfluous to check her out with Eva as well, but he wanted to be sure. For Sienna’s sake. Because he did love his daughter, even if he kept himself at a distance. He wanted the best for her.

  Only, the best meant not him.

  He dialled Eva’s number.

  ‘Good morning. Plans & Planes, Mara speaking,’ the woman on the other end of the phone said, sounding cheerful and welcoming.

  Mara was Eva’s second in command, according to Sophie. If her business acumen was as good as her phone manner, it boded well for the company, he thought. ‘Good morning. May I speak to Eva?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘May I ask who’s calling?’

  ‘Jamie Wallis.’

  ‘Oh!’ For a second, Mara sounded flustered. Clearly she not only knew who he was, she also knew how important he could be to the future of the firm—and that Sophie was meant to be schmoozing him right now. ‘I’ll just put you through, Mr Wallis,’ she said.

  Eva answered, seconds later.

  ‘How are you, Eva?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine, thanks, Jamie. And you?’

  ‘Fine, fine.’

  ‘Um, aren’t you in a meeting with Sophie right now?’ She sounded worried.

  ‘Loo break,’ he fibbed. Because explaining their deal would take too much time.

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘Eva. Look, I know I haven’t seen you for a while—’

  ‘That’s OK,’ she cut in. ‘Everyone understands.’

  He mentally filled in the rest of it: how difficult things must have been since Fran died, and how it’s harder to stay in touch with people who aren’t in the immediate family circle. It was true, but he was guiltily aware that he often hid behind his circumstances.

  ‘Thank you. I just wanted to ask you a couple of things,’ he said. ‘Would you mind?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve known Sophie how long?’

  ‘Eleven years. Since we met on the first day at university.’

  ‘And you’ve been in business together for five years.’

  ‘We’d still be in business together for the next fifty years, if Aidan hadn’t been headhunted,’ Eva said. ‘But it’s just not doable to run my half of the business from a different continent and a very different time zone, and it’s not fair of me to dump all the work on Sophie and still expect to mop up half the profits.’

  Good points, he thought. ‘So you’d say Sophie was reliable and trustworthy?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Eva’s voice was firm with conviction.

  And now the crunch question. ‘And she’s good with kids?’

  ‘Yes. She babysits her niece and nephew all the time. Why?’

  ‘Idle curiosity,’ he f
ibbed.

  But there was one little thing that was bothering him. He knew he was being a bit underhand, but he consoled himself that this was the quickest way to get the last bit of information he wanted. And wasn’t all meant to be fair in love, war and business? ‘And I’ve worked out for myself that she’s kind-hearted. It was nice of her, wasn’t it, to help her family with the money?’ It was an educated guess; Sophie had only said she’d lent the money to someone she loved, but she’d also asked if he would help his siblings if they needed it. Which made him pretty sure she’d lent the money to one of her siblings.

  ‘Yes, but that’s Sophie all over—always thinking of others before herself,’ Eva said. ‘I really hope the IVF works for Matt and Angie this time.’

  So he’d guessed right. She’d lent the money to one of her siblings and their partner. For a very personal reason: an expensive course of IVF treatment. And she’d refused to break their confidence by telling him what she’d done. Then again, if she had told him the truth, it would’ve looked as if she was trying to tug at his heartstrings and manipulate him. He liked the fact that she hadn’t done that.

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Eva. Good luck in New York.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She paused. ‘Jamie, I know I’m only an in-law, and not even a close one because I was Fran’s cousin, but you’re still family. Don’t be a stranger.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Guilt flooded through him. He had been a stranger. Especially to Fran’s family. Because how could he expect them to be rally round him, when he was the one responsible for all their pain—the one who was responsible for his wife’s death? It would be like sprinkling salt over a wound. He couldn’t do it. ‘I’ll talk to you soon,’ he said, knowing it was a polite fiction and also knowing that Eva was well aware of the fact, but what else could he do?

  * * *

  Jamie walked back into the room and returned Sophie’s phone. ‘Thank you for your patience, Miss Firth. We have a deal.’

  Yes. The business was safe, Eva would get the money she needed, and her staff had job security again. Mentally, Sophie punched the air. ‘Thank you,’ she said, trying to keep her voice businesslike.