Page 13 of Military Daddies' Nanny

Nathan looks up sharply at the sound, pinning me in place with an intense stare as his gaze locks onto me standing frozen in the open doorway.

I swallow hard, my face flushing hotly at being caught staring so blatantly. There's a brief flicker of something indecipherablein his expression before he smooths it over with a friendly half-smile.

"Hey Nancy," he greets me, shifting to adjust the box he's holding. "Sorry about that. I dropped one of the storage boxes. Getting a little clumsy in my old age, I guess."

His teasing chuckle is deep and warm, the rich timbre of it sending a shiver skittering down my spine. I try to compose myself, sliding on a mask of professionalism in spite of the whirlwind of less-than-professional thoughts swirling in my head.

"No worries at all," I assure him, making a conscious effort to drag my eyes away from the tantalizing peek that I got of defined abdominal muscles visible where his shirt has rucked up. "Thanks for helping me.”

"Of course. I’m just doing what I should," Nathan says. He moves down the hall toward me, somehow managing to effortlessly exude an aura of raw masculinity and power, while still coming across as respectfully reserved.

It's a contradictory combination that I find dangerously alluring. I usher him into my room, hyperaware of the way his big body seems to command the space, consuming what little open area there is with his presence alone.

He sets the box down on the bed, brushing his hands off on his jeans before extending one to me with a lopsided grin. "I didn’t get to properly welcome you to the family earlier."

Family. He says the word so casually, like it's simply a given that I belong here now. Those simple syllables reverberate through me, stoking a strange longing that I tamp down firmly.

This is nothing more than a job, I remind myself sternly.He's just being friendly, probably pitying me for being alone in the world.

Swallowing hard, I force a polite smile and accept his hand. "You have a beautiful family."

My skin tingles at the contact, an unmistakable spark of awareness zinging between us. His grip is firm and sure, those calloused fingers enveloping my smaller hand easily.

Is it my imagination, or does he hold on for just a beat longer than necessary? I pull away first, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, desperate for something to do with my hands now that the simple act of touching him has thoroughly frazzled me.

"You, uh...you have a nice room here," Nathan says after clearing his throat. "I figure you'd want some space for all your personal stuff. Let me know if you need any shelves or storage put up."

"Oh, you really don't have to worry about all that," I protest, still trying to get my mental bearings. "This is more than enough space for me already."

He shakes his head, smiling faintly. "Nonsense. And what would people say about us if we allowed you live in a cramped little box?"

My cheeks warm at the casual endearment, another little part of me wishing it could maybe mean something more. But there's no point in nurturing those kinds of thoughts, not when this is a job. And certainly not when the man in question seems so far out of my league that we may as well exist in different stratospheres.

Nathan is already rifling through the box's contents, carefully removing stacks of worn paperbacks and a few knickknacks one by one. I hurry to help, wincing as I pull out an armful of fraying sweaters that have clearly seen better days.

"God, sorry about the mess," I murmur, embarrassed by the shabby state of my belongings next to the simple elegance of his surroundings. "Everything I own is pretty much garbage at this point."

He chuckles, the rich sound of it far too charming as he crouches beside me to accept a slightly battered jewelry box from my hands. "Hey now, don't sell yourself short, sis. One man's trash and all that, right?"

He winks, and just like that, my heart gives a telltale flutter against my ribs. Sis. He really is just being kind and welcoming me into their home. There's no hidden meaning there, no matter how much a small, shameful part of me wishes otherwise.

Nathan seems to misinterpret my flush, his expression sobering as he reaches out to give my arm a reassuring squeeze. "Really though, don't ever feel like you need to apologize for anything around me, okay? We're going to take good care of you here."

The earnest promise in those words bypasses all my defenses, sending a fresh wave of heat sweeping through me. He's so gentle and sincere, a sweet relief from Drew's gruff edges.

And by watching the way his hand engulfs my arm, the sheer size and strength of him, it's not difficult to imagine just how thoroughly he could take care of a woman.

Against my will, a vivid mental picture flashes in my mind of Nathan hovering over me, big and powerful and radiating thatsame fierce protectiveness. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, willing the thought away roughly. Now is not the time for those kinds of lurid fantasies.

Clearing my throat, I carefully extract my arm from his hold and refocus my attention on emptying the rest of the box. We work in companionable quiet for a while, the only sounds in the room caused by our movements and the occasional rustle of fabric.

It's during one of these pockets of silence that I remember the notes I've been keeping.

"Oh! That reminds me," I say suddenly, turning to dig through my purse on the dresser and retrieving a small notebook. "I wanted to let you and Drew know about some of my initial thoughts on the kids."

Nathan glances over at me, one eyebrow raised in silence, prompting me to continue. I crack open the notebook, thumbing through pages full of my looping scribbles.

"So, from my observations so far, I think Bella could really use a boost of confidence and a chance to explore her personal interests beyond just schoolwork," I explain, reading through my notes. "She seems like such a bright, sensitive girl, but she's shutting herself off from the world."

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