Page 3 of Contracted and Claimed By The Boss

She stepped back into the corridor, moving quickly because it seemed imperative to be ahead of Max, and then continued onwards. And let out all her breath in one big whoosh, because the kitchen at the back of the house was absolutely stunning. He said he’d upgraded it, but she couldn’t have known how perfect it would be. While retaining all the historic charm of the house, it was also new and spacious. Large, open-plan, with a central island bench and windows that ran three sides of the room, so here she had a panoramic view of the ocean as well as glimpses of the ancient, fascinating rainforest. The floorboards were the original timber and the dining table in here was the complete opposite to the shiny, formal table in the other room. This table looked well used. She moved to it on autopilot, resting a hand on the back of one of the two chairs. That there were only two chairs told Paige a lot—they didn’t entertain often, and they weren’t in the habit of admitting a third to their table.

It conjured images of a loving father and daughter duo, of a pair who would be truly in lockstep. She bit back a sigh, focusing her attention on Max and wondering at the slight speeding up of her heart.

‘Please, take a seat.’ He gestured to the table. She wondered which seat was his and which was Amanda’s. It made sense to choose the chair she was already touching, so she pulled it back, sat down and rested her elbows on the table.

Max moved to the fridge. ‘Water?’

‘Thank you.’ Her parched throat practically leapt for joy.

He withdrew two tall glasses from a cupboard and pressed them against a button in the fridge. Ice-cold water made the fine glass frost immediately. Her throat quivered with anticipation.

He carried the glasses to the table, scowling. There was no other word for his expression. He placed a drink in front of Paige and the moment he released his hand she reached out and gripped the glass, almost finishing it before lifting her gaze to his face to find his eyes resting on her with an expression that made her spine tingle in a not remotely unpleasant way. But it was a warning. She felt it and heeded it: Paige had learned to follow her instincts, especially when they were urging caution.

His hands were planted on his hips, his jaw clenched, his body radiating tension, so Paige leaned forward, and couldn’t help asking, ‘Mr Stone? What is it?’

His thick, dark brows knitted together and her heart began to beat faster. He was so handsome, but in a very rugged way—nothing like the men she’d grown up around. There was nothing contrived about his beauty. It was quite the opposite, raw and uncultivated and all the more overpowering for that.

‘My daughter—’ His deep, gruff voice tightened. ‘Amanda is—’

Paige listened with patience. The agency had given her a brief background on the little girl: eleven years old, first five years of her life spent in Sydney until her mother’s sudden death in a car accident. She was now in grade five at school in a small town called Mamili, in the heart of Wattle Bay. Paige had also been required to sign a watertight confidentiality agreement, which suited her just fine. She had a natural aversion to the spotlight these days and naturally respected anyone else’s right to protect their own privacy.

‘I’ve done my best,’ he grunted, defensive, as though Amanda had laid some charge of failure at his feet. ‘But she’s changed. She’s...unrecognisable.’ He dragged a hand through his hair, his crystal-blue eyes pinning Paige to her seat, so a funny heat began to fill her belly. ‘I want you to bring my daughter back to me. The agency said you’re the best—is it true?’

CHAPTER TWO

PAIGE KNEW HER references had been glowing, and from prominent, wealthy families with deep connections across the world, of course that carried weight, but modesty had her naturally wanting to demur.

‘That’s high praise,’ she murmured, thinking of all the children she’d cared for. Dozens of little faces filled her mind, and she hardened her heart to the familiar feeling of loss. ‘I enjoy my work, Mr Stone, and yes, I believe I’m good at it.’ Paige had worked hard to flourish in this career. Mostly, she’d wanted to make a difference to the lives of children, having experienced a childhood that was so far from the norm herself. She would never allow herself to love and yet she poured a sense of love into each and every child she cared for, treating them all as she wished she’d been treated.

Max Stone regarded her with a look that set Paige’s nerves on edge. A look of appraisal, as though he was only just seeing her now for the first time. She deliberately held herself very still, not showing a hint of nervousness or awareness or any concern whatsoever. His piercing eyes raked her face until she felt her skin warm and she was desperate to look away, to angle her face towards the rainforest and lose herself in those trunks, but she didn’t.

‘You don’t look old enough,’ he said after a long silence had stretched and made the air between them crackle, ‘to have enough experience.’

She straightened her spine.

‘I’m twenty-four,’ she bit out, the words clipped. ‘More than old enough to care for a child.’

His expression showed scepticism. ‘You’re little more than a child yourself.’

‘I beg your pardon, but I can’t be that much younger than you,’ she pointed out, then frowned, because he had an eleven-year-old daughter so that wasn’t completely accurate. ‘And twenty-four is a long, long way from childhood.’

‘My daughter is a handful,’ he said with a grimace, and she pitied him then, wondering if there was a sense of disloyalty in the back of his mind, making the words a little halting. ‘I need someone who can manage her...emotions.’

Paige’s lips twisted into a smile before she could stop them, as she remembered what one of her charges—Carrie—had been like at first. ‘I have experience with children and their emotions.’

‘That’s what I hoped. It’s what I need. I—when Amanda’s mother died, I thought I could handle this. But as Amanda grows up, I’m starting to wonder if she doesn’t need more. If she doesn’t need—’ He shook his head.

‘A woman’s perspective,’ Paige offered gently, pitying him even more, because she could see how hard it was for someone like Max Stone to face the reality that he wasn’t able to single-handedly manage his domestic situation.

‘Yes.’ He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply so his nostrils flared. ‘So let’s go over the ground rules.’

Paige snapped out of her pity and felt something else instead. Surprise and then—attraction. Really? In response to what? She hated being told what to do. Her independence had been too hard fought to surrender it to anyone and yet his natural sense of control was so intensely powerful and masculine that it couldn’t help but speak to a part of her that Paige had long ignored.

She hated being told what to do and yet the tone of Max’s voice, his easy authority, didn’t feel bossy, so much as...protective. She felt as though he might be the kind of person, and parent, who would have been very good at scaring away all the bogeymen under the bed when Amanda was younger. She wondered if he knew how important that was. How important that safety net was for children, to know that their parents were there, protecting them, making their world a predictable and supportive space.

‘Amanda was devastated when her mother died—she cannot come to view you as a replacement for Lauren. You’re here for three months, and when you leave, I want it to be no harder for Amanda than farewelling an acquaintance. Quite frankly, I can’t pick up the pieces for her a second time.’

Sympathy softened Paige’s features. ‘I’m a professional, Mr Stone. I have no intention of creating a dependency within your daughter.’ She paused a moment, then strengthened her voice. ‘However, it’s my experience that these situations work best when a genuine bond develops.’

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