Page 5 of Sexy Bad Daddy

“For one thing, you’re too young.”

“I’m twenty-six.” Erin follows me into the apartment as I move through the living room, picking up a couple of Abby’s toys.

“Okay.” Bad excuse. Although I’ve had better luck with the grandmother types when it comes to who is best to look after my daughter. The last woman I interviewed had this skirt that magically kept getting shorter and shorter while she sat with her legs crossed, her strappy sandal hanging off her foot. If she could distract me during a short interview, that’s no good for my kid. She’s the one who needs a nanny, not me. I head into Abby’s room, drop the toys on the bed, and turn to face this girl who has invaded my apartment. Where the hell did she come from? Besides the agency, I mean.

“Have we had sex?”

“W-what?” She hesitates, her arms full of toys and clothes she’s scooped up while she’s followed me.

“You and I. Have we had sex? I want to believe I’d remember, but I know you from somewhere.”

She stares at me, her head pulled back, brows drawn into a comical expression of horror. “Are you kidding me?”

Dropping my hands to my sides, I shrug. “Not particularly. I hear in some circles I’m quite the catch.”

“You’re something all right,” she agrees, rolling her gaze to the ceiling. “You really don’t remember?”

“Sorry.” I shrug again. “Was it better for you than it was for me?”

“Fore!” My phone goes off like a siren, and I jiggle it out of my pocket. “Shit, I’ve got to go.”

“N-no.”

“What? I haven’t had a performance complaint before.”

“No. I didn’t sleep with you.” She dumps the armful of stuffed farm animals, glittery purple Sketchers, and my daughter’s favorite skort and polo on top of the patchwork quilt. “Quite the opposite.”

“Do you want to?” There was no good reason to ask that, and I’m already grabbing the extra bag I keep packed and hung over Abby’s door. It’s not like I want to know the answer.

“Who do you think you are?” I can practically feel her burning a scowl into my back, her steps not quite keeping up with mine.

Entering the hallway, I wait for her to step out behind me, and then I lock the apartment door. Taking her hand in as friendly a manner as I can muster, I say, “I’m Garrett Frost, professional athlete, God’s gift to women, and I am running late.”

I draw my hand from hers, and we’re on our way again, rushing toward the elevator.

“We met last week. At The Ogden. You were making a wager that you could pick up any woman.” She glides into place beside me as the doors slip shut. “And no, I do not want to sleep with you. Not now, not ever. I have a boyfriend.”

That catches my attention. Glancing down at her, I study her a little more closely as we descend. “Now I remember you. You were the hottest girl in the bar that night. Thanks for the advice, by the way.”

“Glad I could help.” She half smiles. “Now about the position. You already know my philosophy on what makes a good nanny.”

“Not a chance,” I say.

“Seriously?”

“I would have won that wager if not for that phone call. I don’t employ women I can get into bed. My daughter’s far too important.”

“Trust me. I’m not attracted to semi-famous guys with egos that belong in the IMAX version of Jurassic Park.”

“Is that so?” She’s standing with her back against the wall as I make my move. Turning on her, I leave an inch between us as I brace a palm to the mirrored surface. I’m close enough that I catch the slight hitch in her breath as I tug on one of those red curls. “You’re fiery, and I like that.”

“Does this work for you?” she questions me, stabbing her finger between us as the doors slide open. “Enclosed spaces and a few pretty words? Does your attention normally make women swoon?”

“Uh, yeah.” I take a step back when she pushes past me. “Usually.”

“Oh, Mr. Frost. I’ve always wanted to ride your elevator. It’s almost too much for a girl like me to handle.” She marches out into the underground carpark ahead of me, spins around, and pretends she’s about to go into a dead faint.

“Ha. You’re funny.” I stride across the parking level, the monkey-shaped backpack swinging from my shoulder. “So what part of it doesn’t work for you?”

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