Boss's Babysitter_An Older Man Younger Woman Romance
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BOSS’S BABYSITTER
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
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A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 58
FLORA FERRARI
CONTENTS
Copyright
A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series
Boss's Babysitter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Series
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2018 by Flora Ferrari.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
Book 1: Baby Lust
Book 2: Veteran
Book 3: Built
Book 4: Bambino
Book 5: Rescued
Book 6: Leader
Book 7: Professor
Book 8: Burned
Book 9: Worldly
Book 10: Pistol
Book 11: Policed
Book 12: Driven
Book 13: Lucky 13
Book 14: Lumberjacked
Book 15: Protector
Book 16: Carpenter
Book 17: Italian Stallion
Book 18: Gardener
Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin
Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter
Book 21: Cocky CFO
Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th
Book 23: Mechanic
Book 24: SEAL’s Secret
Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch
Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée
Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina
Book 28: Bitcoin Billionaire’s Babysitter
Book 29: Veterans Day Daddy
Book 30: Cowboy’s Christmas Carol
Book 31: Police Officer’s Princess
Book 32: Statham
Book 33: Bodyguard
Book 34: Greek God
Book 35: Billionaire Single Dad's Babysitter
Book 36: Mountain Man
Book 37: SEAL’s Justice
Book 38: Royal Romance
Book 39: Doctor Mountain Man’s Special Delivery
Book 40: Crocodile Dan D
Book 41: Mountain Man’s Secret Baby
Book 42: Doctor Bad Boy’s Secret Baby
Book 43: Cop’s Babysitter
Book 44: Nanny for the Cop Next Door
Book 45: Small Town SEAL’s Saving Grace
Book 46: Cop’s Fake Fiancée
Book 47: Billionaire’s Nanny
Book 48: Cowboy’s Babysitter
Book 49: Steamy
Book 50: Brother’s Best Friend
Book 51: Possessive Professor
Book 52: Firefighter’s Babysitter
Book 53: Soldier’s Secret Baby
Book 54: Ward’s Independence Day
Book 55: Doctor Next Door
Book 56: Possessive Policeman
Book 57: Coached by the MMA Fighter
Book 58: Boss’s Babysitter
BOSS’S BABYSITTER
Office romances are strictly forbidden where I work. But when the boss’s baby needs a babysitter this office girl agrees to watch the boss’s daughter, and quickly finds the boss watching her.
And for the first time this babysitter knows she’s met the man she’s been saving her very own first time for.
But what this office girl doesn’t know is that her boss is her dad’s best friend.
Will this older man and his baby girl have her thinking about another first time…her first pregnancy with her first love and a home full of baby girls and baby boys with her very own boss of the house?
Or will her dad’s best friend resist risking his life long friendship and business partnership with her dad leaving her with nothing more than memories as the boss’s babysitter?
Or will her dad’s best friend resist risking his life long friendship and business partnership with her dad leaving her without the partnership she wanted all along… as so much more than just the boss’s babysitter?
*Boss’s Babysitter is an insta-everything standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
CHAPTER 1
Jacob
Her face looks familiar but I just can’t place her.
It’s not that her face looks familiar because it’s the type you see every day. Not at all.
It’s the kind of face that’s so unique once you see it you never forget it.
And I haven’t. No way would I forget that face.
But I did forget her name. The cardinal sin in business and I’ve broken it.
But this isn’t about business. This is about so much more. This is about life.
My life. Her life. And how our paths need to cross right now.
“Janice,” I say to my secretary. She stands up from her desk and comes to the doorway of my office.
“Yes, Mr. Stone.”
“Who’s the girl in the company picture we took yesterday?”
“That’s Mina, the new hire. She works in admin down on the third floor.”
“Last name?”
“Let me check on that for you, sir.”
I stare at the picture wondering why I can’t place her and it’s driving me absolutely crazy.
“Lewis, sir.”
“Mina Lewis,” I say as I type it into my contact lists search bar. “Thanks, Janice.”
Is she a client’s daughter?
A rep of some sort who’s tried to sell our company some business equipment before?
How did we hire her?
No results to display.
Well, just because she’s not in my contact list doesn’t mean I don’t know who she is.
I pull up her file in the company database.
Good student. Interviewed well. Working a lot of overtime and not putting it on her timesheet.
Why in the world would she do that? She’s missing out on that time and a half? This could be a lawsuit waiting to happen, or she’s a genuinely generous person who’s absolutely a team player. Those are hard to find these days. Very hard to find.
I look back at her picture and focus in on those hazel eyes of hers again. There are almost golden specs in them. It’s absolutely crazy that I can tell that from a picture of a group taken at a distance. She must be a good five to ten yards away from the camera and I can pick out the specs in her eyes.
But that’s not the only thing I can pick out.
I can see she’d be perfect for another position I need filled. One that requires the utmost in trust, confidentiality, and commitment.
And she’s already shown she’s more than capable of all three just by those overtime hours she’s not billing.
But that needs to stop. She needs to be paid for the work she’s doing. I’m not a miser in any sense of the word and there’s nothing I like more than rewarding hard work, especially when the worker doesn’t seem to be getting noticed for it.
“Janice, can you call Mina into my office?” I ask.
“Sir,” she says.
“Can you call Mina into my office?” I repeat. I need to see this girl right now. I need to know what makes someone like this tick. Why she chose to work at Stone Solutions. Last month we had a reporter take a job here to try and dig up dirt on me, but I can see just by looking at her picture she’s not that kind of person.
She doesn’t have that harsh, corporate ladder climber look. How did we find an employee like this? And much more importantly why haven’t I ever been able to find a woman anywhere remotely like this for my own life?
“No need to call her in, sir.”
“What?” I ask. Why is Janice suddenly acting so strange?
“She’s standing in your doorway.”
CHAPTER 2
Mina
I feel my fingers on both hands tighten their grip around the manila folder I’m holding in front of my waist.
I’m focused on keeping my head up high and my shoulders back, but not too far back to make it look like I’m sticking out my chest. I want to appear professional, and not available.
But now that I’ve seen him in person for the first time the thought of not being available suddenly seem like such a bad idea.
But what does suddenly seem like a bad idea was coming up here and trying to negotiate with a man whose entire existence screams power.
As he stands I see his summer wool suit is wide at the shoulders and tapers quickly to match the V-shape of his body. It has to be custom made, not because he must be worth millions at a minimum, but because he’s in tip top shape regardless of whether he’s thirty-seven or any age for that matter…not that I’ve been Googling him relentlessly the last three days in preparation for this moment.
I read an interview he gave on negotiating where he compared the pros and cons of having as much information on the other party as possible before the negotiation. Well, I took that approach of having as much as possible, but regardless I’m quickly seeing I’m way out of my element here. And in way over my head.
And as he approaches me I can also see he’s well over a head taller than me. My mom named me Mina, and the name fit. Both my parents were both tall, but I’m definitely diminutive as in small and feeling even smaller with each step towards me he takes.
I remember to bend my knees so I don’t get wobbly or even worse pass out.
In college when a boy walked up to me, which wasn’t very often, his attempts to communicate were clumsy, sloppy, unprepared or usually all of the above.
Not his. Not here. Not now.
“Mina,” he says as he extends his hand. “Jacob Stone. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Stone,” I say as I take my right hand from the folder and extend it in his direction. But my nerves give me away as the folder fumbles in my hand and I pull my hand back trying to catch it but it’s too late. Papers fly everywhere and I can feel the heat in my cheeks.
I try my best to bend down in a ladylike manner but skirts and heels are not my forte. I do some sort of maneuver that looks like the reverse of a baby deer trying to stand up and as my body nears the floor I realize my balance is quickly nearing nonexistent.
I feel my weight move back into my butt and my body is about to tip backward which would cause my legs to come flying open right in-front of me giving him a straight on shot right up my skirt!
I do the only thing I can think of and throw all of my weight forward instead and throw out my hands bracing for impact.
It never comes.
It’s like one of those amusement park rides where you’re facing forward and free falling straight down right before the ride curves at the bottom and pulls you back up to safety. The ones where you’re upper body is literally horizontal so you can’t even say your stomach is in your throat. It’s more like you’re entire being is just throwing itself out the back of your body.
But just like the curve at the bottom of those rides saves you at the last fraction of a second, the curve of his big hands lock onto my shoulder and he brings me right back up to my feet.
As he steadies me I feel my head spin and quickly take a deep breath trying to get myself straightened out again. So much from starting a negotiation from a strong position, both literally and figuratively.
“I got you. You’re okay,” he says.
I may be okay in the sense that I’m no longer in imminent danger of needing to take a week off work while I recover from the nose job I was nearly in need of if my face had made contact with the floor, but I am in a very different kind of imminent danger when I look up into those sparkling blue eyes of his.
He keeps his hands on my shoulders and carefully guides me over to a chair next to his desk, where he helps me sit down in a way that lets me keep my dignity, or as much of it as I have left.
Which isn’t much as I see that across the floor the top paper in the mess I’ve just made is the hand drawn flow chart with boxes and arrows detailing how I was going to negotiate with him based on his responses to my requests.
He scoops up the papers and doesn’t mention what’s written on them, but surely he must have seen.
And what I’m seeing right now for myself is a man who’s as gentle and caring as he is powerful. I expected the corporate executive to be more a type of shark than a teddy bear. It seems he can be both depending on the situation. No wonder he’s so good at his job.
He’s adaptable.
But I still haven’t adapted to him. To pick up the papers he’s had to squat down and lean forward. As he leans I can see the width of his back and the power in his arms. I’m not good with heights and weights but he’s clearly very tall and very built. I can only imagine what he looks like out of that suit, not that I’ll ever get to see it.
As he stands my eyes drift to his shoes. Is there any attention to detail this guy’s missed? The dark brown calfskin also appears to be Italian, I can tell by the quality and the sleek design. And the rich brown hues are the perfect compliment to his navy blue suit.
Wow, is this man ever put together well.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “This floor was just mopped and it’s too slick. I’m really sorry.”
I rise up from my chair to hastily take the things I dropped. I quickly shove the papers into the manila folder.
He’s doing his best not to make me look like the nervous wreck that I am.
He saved me from falling flat on my face.
He showed me to a very nice and comfortable chair so I could catch my breath and right myself.
And he blamed the floor for my own clumsiness.
I never had any doubts that taking my first position out of college at Stone Solutions would be a good fit, but his actions have done something that transcends business. He’s made me proud of my decision to work here…to work for a company led by a man like this. I say like this, but from all the research I did before I took the job, and what I’m seeing now, I’m not really sure like is the right word. Like would imply there could be others and I’m quickly becoming aware that that’s just not the case. Not. At. All.
This man is one of a kind. An icon. And here I am in his office taking up his time.
“What can I help you with?” he asks in a tone that is comforting almost like a father would say and not what one of the most powerful men in the world would say to a low-level employee who he’s never met. He’s actually giving me confidence.
“I wanted to ask you about taking on more responsibility,” I say. Then I realize how ridiculous and contradictory my words must appear to him.
Hey, here’s a girl who literally can’t st
and up on her own two feet, but she’s ready to stack more work on her shoulders so she can tumble even harder next time. And next time you won’t be there to catch her.
“I think that’s a great idea,” he says.
“You do?” I ask. Pull yourself together, Mina. I straighten my back. “Great,” I say trying to appear like I’m not nearly as overly surprised, make that shocked, as I am.
“I do and I also think it would be great. What did you have in mind?” He pauses raising a hand and then placing it on his chest. “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Please have a seat. And can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m okay,” I say.
Right then Janice, his secretary, enters the room with two bottles of Fiji water which she quickly opens and pours into glasses. She comes to my chair and flips some hidden switch and a fancy wooden cup holder, which matches the arm of the chair, shoots out from the arm of the chair. She sets the drink down, and sets the other on Mr. Stone’s desk and is gone almost as quickly as she appeared.