Page 1 of The Billionaire and the Nanny

Penelope

I standat the steps of a gorgeous brownstone on the Upper East Side across from the Metropolitan Museum, in a quiet, wealthy neighborhood. Taking a deep breath, I wonder if I should button the top button of my blouse or loosen it. I don’t want to appear too Super Nanny but I don’t want to look unserious either.

I mean, this is Ethan Townsend we’re talking about.

Ethan Townsend, the steel magnate always in the headlines for being difficult…and womanizing…and oh, yeah, richer and more handsome than God. Apparently, he inherited something unexpected two months ago when his brother-in-law and older sister died in a terrible car accident, something that has apparently turned his world upside-down.

His seven-month-old niece—Lilly Belle Townsend—is now his charge to raise, and he knows nothing about being a father.

That’s where we comein.

Or rather, that’s where I’m supposed to come in. The problem is that I’m not even sure how long I’ll last. After all, the particularly demanding Mister Townsend has apparently run through three or four nannies from the agency in less than a month.

Who’s to say I’ll fare any better than the girls who came beforeme?

I decide on keeping the buttoned-up look for a more polished, professionalvibe.

I ring the doorbell and force a smile, remembering that I am in beautiful New York City in thefall.

I have to remind myself to take it all in—the blustery breeze, the swirling leaves, the sounds of the bustling city in the background, the laughter of children playing at the park… A cool front is starting to blow through, marking the end of summer.

NYC is so different than Southern Georgia, where I spent 99 percent of my life thus far. The only thing that changes there throughout the year is the humidity.

I’m excited about the weather changes but nervous as all hell about meeting this man whose work in the steel industry has been a metaphor for his whole life—hard, cold, and unbending.

Shiver.

The door in front of me suddenly opens and reveals the man, the myth, the legend.

There he is. It’s him. Holy hell. Breathe, Penelope.

The man from my pre-job research—Ethan Townsend, CEO of the most successful Fortune 500 company this year, Townsend Industries—stands over six-feet-four with dark hair, short on the sides, long on top, and a five o’clock shadow on his chiseled jaw that is sexy as sin. He wears sharp, precise, well-fitted gray pants, steel-toned buttoned shirt, shiny shoes, and a frustrated expression on his face, like he wants nothing more than to get the hell out of the apartment so he can be where he really belongs. The office.

“Yes?” he says in a disaffected tone, as if he hadn’t expectedme.

Dread floods my stomach, as he examines me. Top to bottom, his gaze lingers at my breasts, my face, even leaning to one side as if checking out my ass, undressing me with his cold blueeyes.

Gulp.

“I’m here from Le Nanny?” I say, sounding small and weak. My professionalism gets cut down to size with every second he stares at me. So much for new beginnings and confidence. This man makes me feel all too self-aware. I swallow again and try not to feel like his stare-down is about sex, but my desperately inexperienced, weak body knows it’s alie.

He’s only sizing you up, Penelope, my brain tries to rationalize. Trying to get a feel, a first impression. All men do it. He’s noticing how qualified and proficient I appear, how well-put-together, how perfect for the job I am. It’ll all beokay.

I hold out my hand firmly. “You are Mr. Townsend? AndI—”

“No,” he says firmly. And then the ornate wooden door slams in my face, as the swirling, gusty wind curls all around me. I’m in a state of shock.

Nobody’s ever just slammed a door in my face like that. But then again, I am used to Southern hospitality. This is New York, I tell myself, and the social conventions are quite different.

But still…What thehell?

I can’t be dismissed without even getting a chance. The money for this particular gig is better than I’ve ever received in the past. I need the money and I refuse to be thrown aside before this arrogant man has spoken two words tome.

“Mr. Townsend?” I knock, stuffing my indignity down and taking a deep, calming breath.

Behind the door, I hear footsteps returning, the lock unlatching, and again, Ethan Townsend stands there holding onto the door frame. “Maybe you didn’t hear me, but I said no.” He begins closing the door again, but I reach out a hand to stop it from crunching on my fingers. His glare on me both scares the crap out of me and sends shivers down into the pit of mycore.

But I shove aside the ridiculous feelings of lust that I feel in his presence. He’s handsome as hell and his charisma is certainly all that the tabloids have made it out to be and more. But I’m a professional and I soldier ahead. “No, as in you don’t need a nanny anymore?” I ask. “Or no to me, specifically?”

---