Annie giggled, then ran inside. I followed her. Oliver shot me a friendly smile, a bowl resting in the crook of his arm as he beat pancake batter. Relieved that the awkward moment I’d sensed out on the balcony hadn’t spoiled the day, I went to join him while Annie plunked herself down in front of the TV and turned on the Disney channel.
“Can I help?” I asked, feeling like a spare part.
“You can make a fresh pot of coffee if you like.”
Glad to have something to do other than watch Oliver—which wasn’t exactly a chore, but not the best idea either, given I’d begun imagining a glimmer of attraction in his midnight-blue gaze—I busied myself with grinding coffee beans.
Annie’s constant chatter over breakfast filled the gaps in conversation between me and Oliver. Occasionally, our eyes met over Annie’s head, and Oliver’s would linger for a few seconds, then he’d look away.
When he focused his attention on his daughter, I stole an opportunity to get my fill of his stunning profile with that strong, determined jaw, perfectly straight nose, and high cheekbones. I could feel the pull of desire coaxing me into the disaster zone. Except, making a move on Oliver far exceeded a mere disaster. It would cause an apocalypse.
Biting back a groan when he used the pad of his thumb to swipe a crumb from the corner of his mouth, I scrambled to my feet, mumbling something about making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, and took off upstairs. Once inside the sanctuary of my bedroom, I leaned against the door, my heart bumping into my ribcage, and longing unfurled in my abdomen.
Face it, Harlow. You’ve got the hots for the guy.
This was a nightmare of epic proportions. And what a cliché. Nanny falls for captivating, charismatic, billionaire boss. Ugh. I could see the tabloid headlines now.
I slipped into the bathroom and dabbed a damp cloth to my forehead and neck. Time to pull myself together and behave professionally. This wasn’t a date. Oliver had only invited me because he felt guilty for his behavior on Friday night. And to read anything more into today than that made me a fool.
A fool it is, then.
By the time I returned downstairs, Oliver had cleared away the breakfast dishes and was helping Annie tie her shoelaces. I paused at the entrance to the living area, watching him with her, my heart aching, and my ovaries screaming for me to “fucking do something!” If the women of the world ever banded together to design the perfect father for their children and a hot-as-sin husband for themselves, then I’d discovered the blueprint.
As he straightened, I moved forward in case he caught me lingering and wondered what the hell I was doing loitering and staring.
“Great sneakers, Annie,” I said brightly.
She grinned and skipped over to give me a better look, sticking out her leg and twisting her ankle from side to side. “Daddy bought them for me yesterday.”
“Wow. You’re a very lucky girl.”
“She is indeed.”
Oliver’s smooth, deep voice wrapped around me like a cashmere scarf. Soft, warm, decadent. I craved more. It was as though something had clicked in my mind, forcing me to face up to my growing attraction to the man standing before me, and now, I couldn’t turn it off. My body tingled all over from his proximity, and static energy sent goose bumps scattering down my arms.
“Right, let’s go,” I singsonged, holding out my arm for Annie to slip her hand inside.
We rode the elevator down to the lobby, the enclosed space making me hyper aware of Oliver. The way his jacket rustled when he moved, the hint of cologne mingled with his own manly scent that enveloped my nostrils, how his thighs so perfectly filled out his jeans.
Here’s a man who doesn’t skip leg day at the gym.
I tore my gaze away before he caught me ogling and fixed my attention on Annie. She’d be my safe haven, the one who got me through the day unscathed and without making a complete and utter idiot of myself.
Bright sunshine greeted us as we stepped onto the sidewalk. I dug my sunglasses out of my purse and put them on. “Where are we going?” I asked as it occurred to me Oliver hadn’t mentioned our destination.
At that precise moment, a sleek black car drew up in front of us. A man stepped out and smiled at Oliver. “She’s all gassed up and ready to roll, Mr. Ellis.”
“Thanks,” Oliver said, opening the rear door for Annie. “In you go, munchkin.”
Annie climbed inside. Oliver reached in after her to help with her seat belt, giving me a perfect view of his ass.
What I wouldn’t give to cop a feel. It looked as tight as the rest of his body.
Okay, Harlow. That’s enough. You’re bordering on inappropriate right now.
Oliver straightened, and I averted my gaze just in time. He gestured to me.
“You coming?”
I almost groaned. I fucking wish.
“Absolutely,” I said, my voice far too cheery in an attempt to cover up my improper thoughts.
Oliver gave me an odd look, then strode around the hood to the driver’s side. I recovered my composure and slid inside the plush leather interior.
“Wow, this is a nice car.”
“It’s not Daddy’s favorite,” Annie said. “But it has four seats. Daddy’s favorite only has two seats.” She shrugged.
“Well, it’s very nice all the same.”
I knew nothing about cars, and Oliver didn’t offer any further details as he eased away from the curb. The engine scarcely made a noise, and the ride was smooth and even.
“Where are we going?” I asked again.
Oliver shot me an apologetic grin, then returned his attention to the road. “Coney Island. Annie loves it.”
“Oh, so do I,” I said. “It was one of my favorite places to go as a kid. I haven’t been back in years.”
I caught his sigh of relief. “You’re a born and bred New Yorker, then?”
“Yep. From Queens originally, but when I was about twelve, my parents moved us upstate. What about you?”
“New York through and through. Born in Brooklyn, moved to Manhattan in my late teens after my father passed away. My grandparents lived in Manhattan, and Mom wanted us to be closer to them.”
“I’m sorry. About your father.”
His eyes briefly flicked to mine. “It was a long time ago.” He cleared his throat. “Do your parents still live upstate, then, or have they moved back to Queens?”
“No, they’re still upstate,” I murmured, twisting my head to stare out of the window and make it more difficult for Oliver to read my pained expression. I hoped he didn’t take my comments as a way in. I wasn’t in the mood to share my details of place as the dumb one in my otherwise brilliant family.
“Sorry,” Oliver said.
I turned to face him. “For what?”
He pulled his lips to the side. “Prying. It’s clearly a touchy subject.”
I hitched my right shoulder in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner. “It’s fine. I have a difficult relationship with my parents, that’s all. Very different from the one you have with your mother, and with Annie.” The words came out bitter, in direct contrast to what I’d intended.
Oliver looked as if he might continue the conversation, then thought better of it.
Smart guy.
My hang-ups were best left well alone.
12
Oliver
By the time we stepped foot onto the pier at Coney Island, Harlow’s smile had returned, and a warm glow spread through my chest as I watched her and Annie skip along the wooden boardwalk hand in hand. This was what Annie had missed out on when Sara left. My mom did her best, but she was in her sixties with her skipping days well and truly behind her.
A bitter taste flooded my tongue, and a black mood descended, chasing away the lightness I’d felt since Harlow and I patched things up. Thinking about Sara always lowered my mood. Why I still allowed her to get to me six years later was a matter I regularly examined and never concluded a reasonable answer to. Ryker had made a valid point
yesterday. I had to find a way to put what Sara did behind me and move on with my life.
Her selfish actions had far-reaching consequences, but by living in the past, refusing to embrace the future with open arms, I was giving her all the control—control she didn’t fucking deserve.
“Hurry up, Oliver,” Harlow shouted over her shoulder, her grin broad, her eyes twinkling. “We’re getting candy apples.”
A vision of what my life could be like if I opened my heart punched me in the chest. My knees wavered, and I put out a hand to steady myself. I wanted that life, so badly I could taste it, but whenever I thought about moving on, an invisible force pulled me back, stopping me from taking that first, brave step. There’d been a moment, earlier, on the balcony at home where I’d almost reached for Harlow, driven by a potent desire to feel a woman’s body against my own after such a long hiatus. And then my brain had kicked into gear, and I’d retreated.
Maybe the time had come to stop listening to my rational side and allow the crazy, idiotic side its turn in the limelight.
“Coming,” I shouted, jogging to catch up to them.
Annie muscled in between us and grabbed both our hands. “Swing me,” she insisted.
We did as she asked, her carefree giggles putting a smile on my face that nothing could wipe away. Not today.
We ate the sugary candy apples while we strolled the boardwalk, waiting for the rides to open. Soon, the crowds would arrive, and they’d jostle and bump us, and the magic of an early morning stroll would evaporate on the fall breeze. But for now, I lived in this moment, content for the first time in a very long while.
The day flew by. Annie dragged us onto the Trapeze, the Coney Tower—where Harlow’s scream when the ride dropped almost burst my eardrum—to the much more sedate speed boat ride. Fortunately, she wasn’t tall enough yet to ride the Cyclone, a fact that pleased me and Harlow—and annoyed Annie. We ate Nathan’s hot dogs—a must at Coney—drank too much soda, and played Whac-A-Mole where Annie trounced us both.
At four o’clock, Annie’s energy ran out. I lifted her into my arms and carried her back to the car. Before I’d even pulled onto the Belt Parkway, Annie had fallen asleep.
I grinned. “Peace at last.”
“I could do with a nap myself,” Harlow said, yawning. “Thank you, though, for inviting me. I’ve had a wonderful day. Far more exciting than the one I’d planned.”
“You’re welcome.”
She closed her eyes, allowing me to steal a glance without the fear of getting caught. When Mom dropped her bombshell regarding her three-month trip, I railed against the idea of having a stranger in my home and now, I realized I’d gotten my wish. Harlow wasn’t a stranger. Not to me. Not any longer. And certainly not to Annie.
But despite my growing attraction to her, and the revelation that I might be ready to dip my toe in the relationship pool, Harlow wasn’t the right person to take that step with. She was my employee, my daughter’s nanny. I refused to be that guy, the one that made a pass at the hired help. I recalled Harlow’s conversation with her friend that night in the bar all too clearly. Her utter disgust with the guy who’d propositioned her still reverberated in my mind, and I didn’t want her to think about me that way.
I rolled to a stop outside my building. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw Annie still fast asleep, and as I turned my attention to Harlow, I noticed she, too, was napping. I took the opportunity to cast my gaze over her face, and yeah, my eyes might have slipped south. Her breathing was slow and steady, each lungful of air pushing out her tits. My cock twitched, and I bit back a groan.
I needed to get laid.
Larry, the valet, made his way over, I gently shook Harlow’s shoulder. She started awake, calming when she saw me. She rubbed her eyes.
“Are we home?”
My throat thickened, and a longing I didn’t quite understand yet filled my chest. “Yes,” I rasped.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep.” She removed her seat belt. “Let me help with Annie.”
“It’s okay, I’ve got her.” I climbed out and passed the keys to Larry, then reached into the back. I flicked open Annie’s belt, then lifted her into my arms. She stirred but didn’t wake. I tried to remember the last time she’d needed an afternoon nap. Years ago, I thought. She’d been so excited when I told her I’d invited Harlow that I bet she hardly slept last night. That coupled with the adrenaline of the rides and all the sugary treats, no wonder she’d crashed. I’d let her sleep for an hour or so, but then I’d need to wake her. I didn’t want her up half the night.
“Wait here for me,” I said to Harlow as we walked into the living area of my home.
She appeared confused but nodded. I put Annie to bed, kissed her forehead, then set the alarm on my watch to remind me to wake her in an hour. Returning downstairs, I walked into the kitchen and removed a bottle of wine from the fridge. I felt myself crossing into dangerous territory, but I couldn’t seem to pull back. I poured the cold Montrachet into two glasses and joined Harlow in the living room.
“I realize it’s not quite five, but what the hell. One glass won’t hurt.”
She smiled and reached for one of the glasses. Our fingertips touched. I lingered, relishing the feel of her skin against mine, then withdrew. I went to sit across from her then changed my mind, settling on the couch beside her.
“Thank you for coming with us today. Annie adored having you along.”
She gave me a soft smile that went right to my groin. I hoped her eyes didn’t lower. Or maybe I hoped that they did. My head spun at the dichotomy I found myself in.
“At the risk of repeating myself, she’s such a great kid. A real credit to you. I’ve worked with a few families now, and I can honestly say she’s the best by far.”
“Best how?” I asked, shamelessly fishing for compliments on my daughter.
“She’s smart, funny, well-mannered. I adore her.”
“That’s very good for my parenting ego,” I said, grinning. “I’m glad you accepted the position. Annie has flourished under your care.”
“Now you’re being good for my ego.” She nibbled her lip, blinking rapidly. “I’m really going to miss her.”
The back of my neck prickled, and my insides quivered. “Why, where are you going?” The question came out sharper than I intended. Had she noticed me ogling her tits earlier, or found my lingering gazes on the creepy side?
Harlow gave me a puzzled look, her brows almost touching. “When your mom returns, I’ll move on. My contract is only for three months, and I’ve been here almost three weeks already.”
“Oh.” I clasped a hand to my chest and breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought you meant you were leaving soon.”
She dropped her gaze, thankfully not in the direction of my groin.
“Nine weeks is soon.”
Silent moments stretched between us, Harlow staring at the floor, me staring at her. I rubbed my fingertips over my lips, struggling to find the right response. I didn’t want to promise her something I couldn’t stand by one hundred percent.
“A lot can happen in that length of time,” I said softly, my intention to hint at possibilities rather than certainties.
She lifted her gaze, locking her hauntingly innocent eyes onto mine. “You’re a good man, Oliver Ellis. One day, you’ll make someone very happy, and they’re going to be a very lucky lady indeed.”
“My ex-wife would disagree. I’m damaged goods, remember.” The bitter diatribe spilled from my lips before my brain had engaged into gear. I swiped my hand through the air, infuriated with myself, with Sara, with the whole damned shitty mess she’d left me with. “Forget I said that.”
Harlow stared at me for a few seconds, then got to her feet and placed her half-finished wine on the coffee table.
“I think it’s time I left you alone. Goodnight, Oliver.”
I jerked myself into action. “But it’s still early. And you haven’t eaten dinner yet.”
She s
miled. “It’s been a busy day, and I think I’ve eaten enough to last me a week. Tell Annie I had a wonderful time.”
Before I could come up with the right words to persuade her to stay, she took off upstairs.
I pounded my fist into my thigh. Fuck’s sake.
Closing the lid on my laptop, I pinched my nose between my thumb and forefinger and glanced at the clock on the wall opposite my desk. Two a.m. My eyes stung from looking at the screen too long. After Harlow’s swift exit, and Annie’s brief appearance for dinner before she, too, preferred to play in her room and talk to her friends over Skype rather than put up with my progressively taciturn responses to her constant chattering, I’d taken myself off to my office to work.
After all, what else could a twenty-eight-year-old single man be doing on a Sunday night?
Kissing the nanny.
No.
Not going to happen.
My attraction toward Harlow might be growing, but it was very one-sided, and I refused to behave like a creepy asshole, the likes of the last guy she’d worked for. On a positive note, maybe I could try dating again. I’d proven I could find a woman attractive once more. It didn’t have to be Harlow.
Except no one else interested me.
I groaned and shoved a hand through my hair. Time for bed. Annie would be up in a few hours. She didn’t deserve to awaken to a tired and cranky father. Tomorrow I’d put my best foot forward, paint a bright smile on my face for the sake of my daughter, and pretend everything was okay.
Pushing my chair beneath my desk, I flicked off the lamp and padded down the hallway toward the stairs. A buttery yellow glow coming from my left cast a triangular beam across the floor. I frowned. Had I forgotten to turn off the lights in the living area?
I turned in that direction—and hard-stopped. Harlow was standing over the stove, peering into a pan. My heart rate intensified, thumping against my ribcage, and my gaze traveled from her feet to her head. She was in a plum two-piece shorts and camisole set that showed off her slim, shapely legs to perfection. The thin strap on her top had fallen halfway down her arm, offering a glimpse of the top of her creamy breast.
Enraptured: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 2) Page 8
