by Inara Scott
They all would.
…
Kelsey pulled up in front of the house and turned off the engine of her ancient Subaru Legacy. A long driveway led to a wide porch flanked by a long row of windows. The home appeared relatively new, but careful landscaping had maintained a crescent of trees around it, providing welcome shade from the hot Colorado sun. A three-car garage faced the street, while on the other side, Kelsey could imagine there were incredible views of the mountains. Centennial, a fast-growing suburb close to Denver, had great schools, new houses, and tons of kids. Which meant, of course, that Kelsey had never been anywhere near it, and had immediately gotten lost in the winding promenades and cul-de-sacs.
Which explained why she was now five minutes late.
“Sorry, Marie,” she muttered. “Mary Poppins I am not.”
The engine rattled for a few minutes before cutting off abruptly, shaking the large coffee she had balanced on the dashboard. She took a deep breath and rechecked the sticky note on which Marie had written the names and ages of the kids, the mom’s name, and the address.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
She should have been focusing on her training right now, not working for Marie. In a month she would be bound for Nepal, where she would spend three weeks traveling and acclimating to the altitude before starting the trek up Annapurna. She’d started saving on the day they returned from their last attempt, and had cleared her calendar so she could spend these last few weeks ensuring that her body was in absolute peak condition. Of course, Marie knew that, sneaky woman that she was. She knew Kelsey didn’t have any other commitments right now.
Then again, Kelsey had built her life around never having commitments.
She hauled herself out of her Subaru and walked up the driveway. The car parked out front of the house was an SUV. Something shiny and considerably newer than Kelsey’s vehicle, which was still chugging along nicely—if somewhat loudly—at over 200,000 miles.
Her heart pounded as she walked up the front step. Kelsey Hanson, babysitter? Who could have come up with a more ridiculous notion?
She stopped at the imposing front door, a thick, carved structure of wood and elegantly frosted glass.
You can do this. Marie needs your help. Besides, worst comes to worst, Jenna takes one look at you and slams the door in your face. Then you can go back and tell Marie you tried. No harm, no foul.
Closing her eyes, she tried for a deep breath. Her hand didn’t seem to have any intention of moving, so she tried for a sterner internal voice.
You will never be Hope or Marie. You know as much about playgrounds and children as Marie does about passports and freeze-dried meals. That’s okay. Just be yourself. That’s all Marie would want.
The self-talk had descended into the realm of pure cheesy nonsense, and she had to stop herself from laughing out loud.
Screw it.
She pushed the doorbell.
Chapter Four
“Matt, Luke, Julia,” Ross bellowed as he reached for the front door, “the babysitter’s here.”
No response. After he’d made a lousy breakfast of burned scrambled eggs and toast—single parenting did not necessarily imply decent cooking—the kids had hidden themselves away in the bowels of the enormous house. Luke had pounded up the stairs to his bedroom, scowl on his face and video game console in his hand. Matt had gone down to the basement, bouncing a soccer ball on one knee. Jenna had set up a little sports center down there, with a mini basketball hoop and a soccer goal against one wall. Julia had settled in to watch her favorite public television show. Ross figured he’d have to work hard to extract any of them from their chosen form of entertainment.
He unlocked the door and pasted a friendly smile on his face. It faded the instant he took in the familiar visage of the woman at the door. Sun-kissed hair fell over her shoulders in long, loose braids. A sleeveless dress had been thrown loosely over a camisole, exposing delicate collarbones and the defined muscles of golden arms and shoulders. Her velvety brown eyes looked as surprised as he felt.
“Kelsey?”
It should have taken him some time to place her. He should have had a moment of doubt before he remembered her name. Instead, he felt like he’d just seen her the day before.
She gaped at him, her mouth falling open slightly. He waited for her to say something, but she was apparently as startled as he was, because no sound emerged.
The attraction was instant. Overwhelming. It had been three years, but he remembered her body as though it had been mapped onto his brain. Memories of their night together assaulted him. He tried to banish them, but images of long tangled hair and tanned skin lingered and burned behind his eyes.
He stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him.
“What are you doing here?” He hoped the words sounded calm and detached, but it was no small feat, considering the loop of tape playing over and over in his head.
Harder. Faster. Please.
They’d made love three times that night. The first had been a blur of pent-up need, the second a more leisurely exploration of bodies and minds, and the third a silent affair with an underlying hint of sadness. He’d never even gotten her last name. They didn’t exchange phone numbers or make any promises to see each other again.
Staying in touch would have been absurd. They couldn’t have been more different.
She couldn’t have been more wrong for him.
He waited another moment, caught somewhere between the urge to grab her in his arms and lose himself in that gorgeous mouth, and going back in the house and hoping he never had to see her again. Finally, she drew in a breath and started to speak.
“I’m…” Her voice broke, and pink flushed her cheeks. There was an awkward silence, and then she said, her words tumbling out in an embarrassed rush, “I’m looking for Jenna Kellington. This is 6141 South Elain, isn’t it?”
He let out a bark of laughter. “Jenna. You’re looking for Jenna, my ex-wife. She had to leave town unexpectedly. Why do you want her?”
She clutched a manila folder against her chest. “Oh God. You’re Luke, Matt, and Julia’s father?”
“Yes,” he drawled. “And?”
“I’m your new babysitter.”
Now he was the one left gaping.
She handed him the folder. “Hope was supposed to come this morning, but she’s in the hospital with food poisoning. Marie tried to call Jenna to let her know but she didn’t get a response.”
“She’s on her way to China,” he replied, his voice dim to his own ears. “Emergency at work.”
Babysitter? His raging one-night stand? The most unsuitable, inappropriate woman he’d ever slept with was his babysitter?
He took the folder she extended, flipping it open without waiting for her response. A typed letter lay on top, signed by Marie Fague, the president and owner of the Gentle Hands Nanny Agency. Excuses, illness, blah blah blah, personal guarantee that Kelsey Hanson would be an excellent temporary fit until Hope was able to go back to work. Background check, driving record…
He looked up. “You’re one of Marie’s regular nannies?”
Pale skin shimmered below the glow of her tan. “No…not exactly. I usually just help with the website.”
“But you’re here to take care of my kids?” The whole scene was so surreal, he could barely make sense of anything she was saying. “Are you sure you’re qualified?”
She paused, taking a breath and letting it out slowly before she continued. “I assure you, Marie wouldn’t have sent me if she didn’t think I’d be able to do the job. If you aren’t comfortable, though, I understand completely.”
She continued to speak, saying something about a restaurant and salmonella, a last-minute search and the usual temps all being busy with summer plans. She spoke mechanically, her nerves visible in the way she played with the narrow strap of her purse.
Inadvertently, he found himself staring at her fingers, and then her shirt, which naturally l
ed his gaze to her breasts, and then he was struck by the memory of kissing those breasts back in his hotel room.
He tripped over the next few words, overwhelmed by a sudden stiffness between his legs. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Marie wasn’t able to find anyone else to take Hope’s place. If you would prefer to take care of them yourself until Hope is back on Wednesday or Thursday, I can let her know.”
The door behind them jerked open, revealing Julia’s dark hair and pursed lips. “Daddy, I was calling and calling and you didn’t answer,” she complained. When she spotted Kelsey she stopped and cocked her head in curiosity. “Who is that?”
“That’s the babysitter.” He could barely force the word from his mouth.
“That’s the siren”? Yes. “That’s my sexual fantasy come to life”? Sure. But “that’s the babysitter”?
Hell no.
“But where’s Hope?” Julia stuck out her bottom lip. “I liked Hope. When is she coming?”
Kelsey swayed from one foot to the other. “Maybe I should go.”
Ross had almost started to nod when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and took a quick look at the name on the screen.
Armand Herriot.
He snapped straight in shock. “Come in,” he said abruptly, turning Julia around and pushing her back into the house. He motioned for Kelsey follow, suddenly not caring in the slightest that he’d just invited his one-night stand into the house with his children. “I’ve got to take this call.”
…
Kelsey watched Ross’s broad back disappear into a sitting room while the little girl who wore Ross’s striking azure eyes gazed back at her. They examined each other in silence.
Her pulse still raced at the sight of him. Ross Bencher. The man she’d fantasized about for three years. The best sex of her life. Total abandon in a hotel room. The shoulders, the hands, the eyes…all of it just as she’d remembered. And she remembered other things, too. Things she absolutely shouldn’t be remembering in front of a child. And these were the kids he’d told her about? Jenna was the wife he’d just divorced?
What kind of sick sense of humor did fate have, anyway?
Big blue eyes stared at her.
Don’t panic.
With an enormous effort of will, she pushed the memories of Ross out of her head and tried to think of the various bits of advice Marie had given her for dealing with the children. Don’t talk down to them. Be firm but pick your battles. Listen. Play. Be creative. Before you say no, ask yourself why.
She crouched down so she wasn’t looming over the little girl and held out her hand. “I’m Kelsey. It’s nice to meet you.”
Julia looked at her hand as if it was a scaly reptile and took a step back. She furrowed her brow. “Hope was supposed to be here today.”
Kelsey withdrew her hand. Note to self: six-year-olds don’t shake hands. “I know. But she got really sick last night, so she couldn’t come today. She’ll be here later in the week.”
“I like your hair.” Julia fingered her own messy locks. “I want braids but my dad can’t do them. He can’t even do a ponytail. Can you braid my hair?”
Relieved to find something she did know how to do, Kelsey nodded vigorously. “I can do regular braids or French braids. I bet you’d look pretty with French braids.”
Julia nodded. “Yep. I do.” She turned and started up the stairs. When Kelsey didn’t immediately follow, she turned around and motioned impatiently. “You should come to my room. I’ll show you Bear and Hot Foot.”
Unsure if she should try to do something with the older boys, Kelsey stopped at the top of the stairs. “Where are your brothers?”
Julia grabbed her hand and started to tug. “Luke is in his room playing his DS. He’s grumpy. I don’t know where Matt is. Probably the basement. He likes it down there. Now come.”
Kelsey envisioned the call later that day to Marie: “Yeah, I kinda lost one of the kids. But the six-year-old told me he was in the basement. How was I supposed to know he’d wandered out into traffic?”
“Er, why don’t we go find your brothers first, and then we can check out your room.” When Julia scowled, she tried to imagine what Marie would do. Something creative, probably. She brightened. “I know. You can give me a tour of the house. We’ll start with the basement and save your room for last. Because it’s the most special, of course.”
Julia considered her options. “Okay,” she finally agreed. “But I’m going to get Hot Foot first. You wait here.”
She ran down the hall and ducked inside one of the rooms. Kelsey breathed a sigh of relief as she waited for the little girl to return.
Was Ross even going to let her stay? She had no idea, but she hoped that he wouldn’t. He was supposed to be a one-night stand. She was never supposed to see him again. They’d said and done things that night that were meant to stay between strangers. She’d told him about her fear of Annapurna. He’d described how hard it had been to sign his divorce papers. And the sex… Her face burned at the very thought of her abandon in his arms. She’d screamed his name and talked dirty. She’d let herself feel all the things she’d never felt and do all the things she’d always wanted to do.
And now she was supposed to make his kids peanut butter sandwiches and take orders from him like a good employee?
From the look on his face when he saw her at the door—as if she was an unpleasant reminder of something he wanted very much to forget—she suspected that he felt the same way. His eyes had been sharp and cold, nothing like the passionate, magnetic gaze she remembered. And who could blame him? Their night together was meant to stay in the past, and they both knew it. The best thing they could do was pretend it had never happened.
She squared her shoulders as Julia came out of her room carrying an enormous stuffed flamingo. As of today, he was the boss and she was the babysitter. Nothing more.
…
Ross hung up the phone. He’d been on the call for the better part of an hour, and either the kids were dead or Kelsey had tied them up and put them in a closet, because he hadn’t heard a peep out of them since she’d arrived.
He’d contacted Herriot on Friday, right after he’d heard from Jenna. The man owned a large portion of the commercial real estate in Denver, and what he didn’t own he had some time in the past. Shrewd and savvy from a young age, Armand had managed to take a small inheritance and turn it into a real estate empire. About ten years ago, he’d quietly started accumulating commercial properties across Colorado, and then developed one of the most successful resorts in Vail.
Ross had no plans to compete with him—he was the new kid in town and he knew it—but partnering with Herriot was essential to his plans for breaking into the Colorado market. Armand would bring the land and Ross would supply the development and construction. Herriot had the local contacts that would otherwise take years to develop, while Ross had the savvy and experience that came from growing up in the cutthroat New York market. At least, that was supposed to be the pitch. He’d expected it to take a few calls and some persistence to get the man to call him back. He certainly hadn’t expected to have the opportunity to talk to him so soon.
Or the pressure of meeting with him Friday morning to discuss a new venture.
Ross walked through the kitchen, his head still spinning from the implications of the call. Forget taking his time getting settled. Forget a leisurely week of spending time with the kids and looking for a house of his own. Armand had an area of real estate that he wanted to develop into a new resort, but he hadn’t liked any of the proposals he’d received thus far. He wanted Ross to come meet with him before he left for Europe for the rest of the summer.
Which meant Friday.
Which meant Ross was going to have to put together a proposal—fast.
The kitchen was quiet, as was the backyard. Then he heard a giggle and a clap coming from the basement. He started down the stairs, stopping halfway down the thickly carpeted stairs as the group came
into view.
The finished basement was a huge, open room that Matt used for everything from basketball to soccer. Kelsey—now clad solely in a tank top and a pair of snug-fitting black athletic tights—was apparently taking advantage of the sports arena–like quality of the space, as she threw herself into a handstand and walked, upside down, across the room. Julia squealed and cheered her on. Matt was standing next to Julia, his mouth hanging open. Luke sat on the couch, his handheld video game in his hands, but his eyes were locked on Kelsey.
When she reached the soccer goal at the far end, Kelsey bounced to her feet, her face flushed pink. “Your turn, Matt,” she called, clapping her hands.
He couldn’t say the outfit was indecent. Her white tank top, with an elaborate red-and-gold flower printed on the front, actually had a fairly high neckline, probably for doing exactly the sort of moves she’d just demonstrated, and it ended at her hips, so she wasn’t flaunting a naked torso or navel.
Not that it really mattered. He knew what lay beneath the top and bottom of her outfit. He knew not only the smoothness of the skin stretched across her stomach but the firmness of her breasts and the delicate ruching of the nipples when she was aroused.
The salt on her skin as they made love for the third time. Her soft moan, when he took her in his mouth.
A shudder shook the lower half of his body.
Pull yourself together, man.
He’d have to declare his presence. Standing here watching her was a recipe for disaster. But before he could say anything, Matt had walked to the middle of the room and tossed himself forward, onto his hands. He wobbled and immediately fell back over, but Kelsey clapped nonetheless.
Ross winced when her breasts bounced, ever so slightly, under her shirt.
“Awesome,” she said. “You keep practicing and you’ll be there by the end of the summer. Julia, how about a cartwheel?”
Julia shook her head. “I don’t know how to do a cartwheel.”
Kelsey dropped her mouth open in an exaggerated expression of astonishment. “Really? Well then it’s time you learned.” She turned to Luke with a smile. “What about you? Ready to do a cartwheel?”
