Daddies & Nannies: A Contemporary Romance Boxset

by Piper Sullivan

  She nodded, but her boss stepped in. “Jennifer, you’ll have to pay for that champagne.”

  “Jeez! I’ll make sure everyone knows what an evil bitch you are,” I told her, meaning every word. Jenn was one of my few close friends and I couldn’t let this witch treat her this way.

  “It’s fine, Becca.” Jenn looked more defeated than I’d ever seen her, and that pissed me off even more. But this was her job, so I conceded and watched the stick-figure walk away on stilts. “I hate that woman.”

  “Me too. And hey, I’m sorry I got you in trouble.” I knew she couldn’t afford what her boss would make her pay for that bottle of overpriced swill. I felt as tipsy as I would on the cheap stuff. So I did the only thing I could to help her out. “Hey, what do you know about waitressing?”

  She shrugged. “Carry plates and glasses, bow and scrape to the important people. Right?”

  “Right,” I grinned and told her about the waitressing gig tonight. “It pays well for the night, to more than make up for whatever else that witch will take from your check this month.”

  Her green eyes brightened. “Really? You’re a lifesaver, Becca.” She wrapped an arm around me and guided me to the shoe and lingerie departments where I charged a month’s salary to the company credit card.

  “Don’t even mention it. Just show up on time and wear a white, buttoned-down top and a black skirt.” I gave her the address and parking instructions. “Cruella took up so much of my time, and now I’ve got to hike a mile to my car and get back. Lots to do before tonight.”

  “Good luck, girlfriend. I’ll see you later.”

  I waved her off and took my bags. There was a lot that needed to be done before I could even think about getting dressed. This stupid Valentine’s Ball was wearing me out.

  February fifteenth couldn’t come soon enough.

  Jackson

  Armed with a brand new European cut tux for the charity ball tonight, I walked out into the crisp New York air with a smile.

  That little spitfire was still on my mind. It wasn’t often that pretty women called me an asshole. At least not until after I’ve had my fill of them. But her eyes had blazed fire, a beautiful steely gray that should have been ice cold, but wasn’t.

  Nope, they were hot like melted steel.

  And as I opened my car door, I remembered her last move. Tossing that cup of coffee at me. I’d watched in horror as it landed on the seat of my Lamborghini Huracan Spyder. It was ballsy, and I was thankful for the leather seats as I called one of my assistants to have him pick me up while the detailing service worked on my Lambo.

  While I’d waited, all I could do was laugh at her guts. She had them in spades. She’d been furious, and yeah, it was an asshole move, but people let me get away with being an asshole because I’m rich and beautiful. I’ll admit that I often took advantage of that fact, because it was convenient.

  I wasn’t always an asshole, but given who I am, Jackson Steele, people let me get away with a lot. I started my career as a model, a child model actually, and I kept going until I hit superstar runway status. But I got sick of the dieting and the drugs, and I returned to my first love, music. From there I made albums, toured the world and then got bit by the acting bug, as people loved to say in interviews. And producing, both music and movies. Basically, I was the definition of a super star and the world bowed down to me because of it.

  But not her.

  I couldn’t remember the last time a woman had piqued my interest the way she had, and I had no idea who she was. Or how to find her. And that’s what had me feeling so uneasy as I arrived home, showered and got dressed for the ball.

  I hated these functions, but this one was for a good cause, and I was expected to be there as were all the members of the private jet club I belonged to. Women would be dressed to impress, hopefully in something tight and revealing, and I would be there with my signature swagger and the smile that had made me a star.

  The long walk from my hotel suite to the ballroom downstairs should have been relaxing, but with my hand in so many financial pots, business didn’t stop. Not even for fucking charity. I grabbed a drink of the good stuff and knocked it back while I waited for the doors to open for the royal blue carpet.

  And when it was my turn, I flashed my smile at the waiting members of the press. They loved me, and I loved them because we had an agreement. I gave them enough to make some money and they didn’t harass me.

  “Lookin’ good, Jackson. Who are you wearing?”

  “You’re lookin’ better, Marie. I’m wearing who else but Armani? No one else can do this body justice.” Arms spread wide with a killer smile on my face, I let the photographers earn their keep for a couple minutes before I made my way into the lavishly decorated ballroom. And by lavish, I meant tacky as hell, but rich people like tacky. Pink and red and white was everywhere, hearts of all shapes and sizes hung from pretty much every damn thing. The lights were low and the music was soft as I scanned the room in search of someone worth talking to.

  Tired of looking, I hit the bar. “Lagavulin 25, neat.”

  “Still drinking like a pretentious jerk, I see.”

  Those were fighting words, at least they would have been if I hadn’t recognized that voice. “Eric, how’s it going man?”

  “Good. It’d be better if I didn’t actually have to attend these damn events, but Becca says my presence will increase the donations.” He rolled his eyes, but the small smile said he appreciated Becca’s advice. Whoever she was. “Do you know Aaron?”

  I looked over at the dark haired guy who had at least two inches on me, and more on Eric. He looked like the brooding sort, but Eric seemed to know him. “Nah, can’t say I do. I’m Jackson Steele.”

  Aaron smirked and accepted my hand. “Yeah, I know who you are man.”

  He didn’t say it like it was a good thing, so I just shrugged.

  “Aaron and I went to school together. He’s been like a brother to me, even though he’s been gone a while.” Eric clapped Aaron on the back and herded us off to the main table up front, always wrangling the talent. “Aaron is a good friend and former client. Also, a member of the club.”

  “You fly too?”

  Aaron nodded, but he didn’t seem all that excited about it. “Not as much as I’d like to, but I get out a few times a year.”

  “You guys chat, I have to go check on a few things.”

  Aaron and I were silent, watching Eric saunter off. But I perked up as I saw a familiar blond march up to Eric and lean in close. Too close. “Aaron, you know the blond? She and Eric an item?”

  Aaron laughed and shook his head. “Becca? No way, man. That’s his cousin. She’s also his assistant. Hands off.”

  My brows rose at his harsh words. “You’ve got your eye on her too?”

  “No, I don’t. Maybe you didn’t hear the part about her being Eric’s cousin. You can’t mess with a man’s family.”

  Yeah, I heard him, but I wasn’t listening. “You don’t understand, Aaron.” I gave him a quick version of our meeting earlier and he laughed his ass off. “You see, I can’t let it go, right?”

  He nodded, still chuckling. “Yeah, I get it. Be careful though. I won’t hesitate to kick your ass on his behalf.”

  “Noted,” I told him and stood, fully prepared to seek out the beautiful Becca in that sexy blue gown that showed off every sexy curve she owned. Damn Becca, I can’t wait to make you mine for the night.

  Becca was avoiding me. It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so damn frustrating. I almost caught up to her that first time I spotted her because she was so engrossed in what she was saying to Eric. But she’d spotted me. I knew she recognized me, because a moment later, she turned on her heels and walked away. Giving me a fine look at her ass.

  And what an ass it was. Round and heart-shaped. Totally fucking perfect.

  She did an impressive job avoiding me most of the night, but once the lights dimmed and the mistress of ceremony took the stage, I put B
ecca on simmer and paid attention to the reason we were all dressed up and gathered in this ballroom. Charity.

  It was good for the soul and better for publicity.

  And an excellent tax deduction.

  A beautiful songbird took the stage, and her golden voice lulled the audience into an uncanny silence. But as good as she was, my gaze immediately found Becca’s, who’s eyes were on me as well. She looked away, but now I knew her secret. She was as fascinated with me as I was by her. Only she was fighting it.

  So, I bided my time and waited for the perfect opening. This wasn’t my first charity ball, so I knew exactly when to make my move. As we moved from entertainment, to the begging for money portion of the evening, I spotted her. Occupied and unaware. I made my move.

  “Blue is my new favorite color,” I whispered in her ear.

  She froze, but not before I saw the small shiver shoot through her at the sound of my voice. Her skin dotted with goosebumps, and flushed beautifully. She turned slowly, and damn, in those fuck me heels she wore we were practically the same height.

  “You! Mister I can park wherever I want because I’m so big and important. What do you want?”

  I flashed a grin at her fiery response and leaned in close. “You. Obviously, Becca.”

  She growled at me and it was the hottest damn thing ever. Women didn’t growl at me, they giggled and simpered, and eventually moaned, but they didn’t growl. Ever. “Get real.”

  “Oh baby, I am one thousand present real. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t walk away and that meant I was still in the game. “I have no doubt I’ll read all about it in tomorrow’s paper.”

  “Gun metal.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your eyes. Earlier I wondered what color they would be when I got close to you. Gray or light blue, or some mixture of that. But no, gun metal gray.” I reached for a tendril of thick blond hair and wrapped it around my finger. “You’re beautiful, Becca.”

  A low moan escaped her sweet mouth, and it hit me right in the cock, bringing Jackson Junior to life. She covered her reaction quickly, but not quickly enough. Then she totally shut down.

  “Thank you, Mr. Steele, but I have other things to attend to. Enjoy the ball.” She hurried off like someone had set her dress on fire and I grinned, because she could deny it all she wanted, but we both knew she wanted me.

  I had her so hot and bothered she was running from it.

  Run along Becca. I’ll find you.

  When the time is right.

  Becca

  That man. Jackson Steele. God, he was so damn infuriating! Who did he think he was, sneaking up on me and trying to seduce me with that deep honeyed voice, that sexy smile and those laughing hazel eyes? His compliment did nothing for me.

  Nothing at all.

  That moan was because my shoes, though absolutely gorgeous, hurt like a son of a bitch.

  Yeah, that was my story and I was sticking to it.

  As if I didn’t have enough to deal with tonight. One of the singers had backed out and I had to find a replacement ASAP or the evening’s entire scheduling would be off.

  And now, wunderkind Jackson frickin’ Steele.

  I hadn’t recognized his name or face in the parking lot earlier today, but a quick look at the final guest list had jogged my memory. And when I saw him talking to Eric, I just knew he would be trouble.

  Then—bam!—there he was…everywhere. Watching me. His gaze, even from across the room, was like a damn caress. Slow and sensual, and don’t even get me started on that lazy, seductive grin he flashed like it was Halloween candy.

  And now my anger burned out of control. I shouldn’t have done it, I really shouldn’t have, but I was double checking the auction items and I couldn’t resist. It was childish, and I could get into a lot of trouble. But like he’d said, he’s Jackson fucking Steele. He can certainly afford to be more generous than the rest of us. Especially for a good cause.

  Okay, yes, I also wanted a little payback for him being such a jerk earlier, and such a presumptuous jerk tonight. I didn’t like being angry. Anger served no purpose other than to distract you from ways to actually solve your problems. But shaking off the anger wasn’t an option for me, especially with all the other things that had gone wrong today. Neither was drinking because I was on the clock until this place was empty and clean enough that the staff wouldn’t complain in the morning.

  I found the perfect item and tripled the bid with an evil smile that was so unlike me. I felt a momentary pang of guilt, but it passed quickly, and I jotted down the bid amount. I knew it would be the winning bid amount. I took a step back and let the guests look through the items being offered while I checked that everything else was going smoothly.

  An hour later, I wondered what the hell I was thinking, being so excited when Eric brought up the idea of a Valentine’s Day charity ball. There was so much work, on top of my regular work load, and it was completely thankless. No one gave a damn that I’d been pulling double duty for weeks, or that I was dead on my feet by the time the MC began announcing the bachelorettes up for auction.

  A break would be nice. Would be fantastic actually, but there were maybe ten minutes between the final auctioned bachelorette and the start of the silent auction winner announcements. There wasn’t even time to duck outside for some fresh air, since I couldn’t just pop out the front door, because rich people had crazy rules. They needed the help, relied on the help for everything, but they hated to actually see them.

  So, I leaned against the bar and considered that my break. Plus it gave me the best view of the entire ballroom from where the guys sat up front, to the servers moving busily to ensure everyone had champagne, cocktails and dessert if they wanted it. If someone needed me, I would be there in seconds, but in the meantime, my feet really did need a break from all the sparkly fabulousness that wasn’t meant to be walked in all night.

  I felt someone staring, and I should have ignored it because by the time I realized who it was, our gazes had collided. Even from here I could see the playful glint in his hazel eyes. Well-formed lips curled into the barest hint of a smile, as though it was just for me. So I would know how amused he was by me. Like I was some damn trick pony.

  I rolled my eyes and listened—okay, pretended to listen—as the winners of the silent auction were announced. My mouth remained fixed into a polite and professional smile as the winners of the lavish items were announced. A weekend on a sailboat, a helicopter ride around the city, a painting by an up and coming local artist, and a box of very rare Argentinian chocolates. Applause, gasps and phony gripes of dissatisfaction went up all around the room. But everyone was in a good mood because charitable donations were tax deductible, and more importantly, they had all been seen being extremely generous.

  “Our final winner of the evening, with a very generous donation. Stunningly generous, even for a man as wealthy as our winner. So let me say on behalf of all of this evening’s charities, thank you.” The MC cleared her throat and dabbed at a fake tear at the corner of her eye. I suppressed an eye roll and kept my smile in place. “Thank you, Jackson Steele, you have won an evening of ambience and romance at LA’s premier seafood restaurant, Le Fin.”

  I tried not to look at Jackson, but it was as though his hazel gaze was magnetic and forced my eyes to his. Dammit, he looked amused, despite the straight line his lush mouth was set in. I, like everyone else, clapped enthusiastically.

  “Now I just have to find a beautiful woman to enjoy the meal with me,” he said loud enough for everyone in the ballroom to hear even though his gaze never left mine.

  One thought went through my mind. Message received. Not accepted, but definitely received. A guy like Jackson wasn’t serious. He flirted with any woman between the age of twenty and ninety, and he never meant it. Which meant there was no harm in enjoying it. I smiled back and gave a slight nod.

  It was the wrong move, because the music began aga
in and Jackson was out of his seat.

  And headed my way.

  Shit.

  Jackson

  That little witch had placed a bid in my name.

  A bid at least five times greater than the actual meal was worth. But it was for a good cause. More importantly, she’d had the balls to do it. That impressed me.

  Women rarely impressed me in real life. On stage, or in front of a camera, in a sound studio, they were great. But otherwise, they simpered and bowed and did what they could to curry favor.

  Not Becca.

  Not yet, anyway. But I was headed straight for her. And by the wide-eyed look on her pretty face, she knew as well as I did, that she had no place to run off to. I had her right where I wanted her. Almost. I’d rather have her naked and writhing beneath me as I slid deep, making her cry my name. But that would come.

  Later.

  For now, I would make Becca squirm. She turned towards the bar moments before I was at her side. “Beautiful Becca.”

  She stiffened, but only slightly before swiveling to the side to face me. “Jackson, hello.” She came across cool and unaffected, except the pounding pulse at the base of her neck gave her away. “Thirsty?”

  Hell yeah, but I was at least a few more hours away from tasting what I knew would be the sweetest nectar. “Always. Another Lagavulin for me and whatever the lady is having.” She rolled her eyes, but the tiniest blush stained her creamy cheeks.

  “Water, thanks,” she said to the bartender and turned to me. “I’m working.”

  “Very hard from what I can see.” And I’d seen a lot, watching her all night like a stalker had given me a glimpse into who Becca was. She worked hard and she did it all with a smile. She impressed me yet again. “Surely you can take a break now that all the activities are over?”