Page 14 of The Billionaire & the Nanny: Part 4

And now, seeing Miss Frasier holding the baby, trying to soothe him, I see a little bit of Evie in her. Not ready to be a mother, just like Miss Frasier is clearly not ready to be a nanny. Something inside of me hurts for her. She looks so vulnerable standing there. I’ve tried my fucking best to stay away from women except to satisfy my urges. One, because I lost my mother in college, and two, because I lost my best friend—the only two women I’ve ever loved.

Yet, I can’t tear my eyes away from Alana Frasier. Can’t retreat into hardass mode, because there’s something about this young woman. Still, I can’t afford to figure it out. I have to keep far, far away from her.

I scoop the baby out of her hands and force my eyes to Liam’s face. “Hey, buddy.” I wipe the tears from his cheeks and bounce him around a bit until he quiets. “Listen, I’m about to have a meeting, so I’m going to need you to go down for your nap, okay?” As if to make my point, I push his blonde head onto my shoulder. “See? Sleep.”

Liam takes my cue and sticks his tiny thumb into his mouth to suck on it. So stinkin’ cute. His sobs ebb then flow, then ebb again, until he sighs against my chest. If only Evie could see him.

“Thank you for showing me,” Miss Frasier says meekly. “I can take over now.”

“Finance, Miss Frasier?” I reply.

She looks up at me. Those eyes. “I…I graduated with top honors in finance, but I come from a family familiar with childcare, Mr. Hardwin. I assure you.”

“You sure about that? Because you look more clueless than the time our mail guy entered the ladies’ bathroom looking for the mail room.” Before Liam can get too comfortable, I hand him over to Miss Frasier. “Here. Just hold him like that, with his head against your chest. Sing if you have to, or hum. He likes humming. I’ll check on you after the conference call.”

Miss Frasier looks like she has more to say, but I start closing the door. “I can handle this, Mr. Hardwin,” she says anyway. “Rest assured, I got this.”

“We’ll see.” I smirk, as Miss Frasier copies my hold on Liam and bounces him the same way I bounced him. Okay, not bad. She can learn. Maybe it’s first day jitters after all. As much as I would have fired her by now under normal circumstances, something about her isn’t normal. Something about her feels off the charts.

Benefit of the doubt creeps in. Finance degree. “I got this,” she said. I like her determination to succeed, even as Liam’s cries pick up again.

“Shh, shh, Liam. Let your daddy work. Let’s talk about this nap thing, shall we?”

As she closes the door, I shake my head. Craziness. Pure craziness. Not only did my fake wife pass away, but her child is now my son by default, and I don’t even have the time to care for him, as much as I want to—because who wouldn’t? He’s a cute kid. But I have a company to run. Newfound Ad Agency has always been my top priority, which is why I get paid millions to run it. I don’t do relationships, I don’t do love, and I especially don’t do fatherhood.

But I do do promises.

And my last promise was to Evie saying that I’d take care of her and Liam until her father died. But life’s full of surprises, isn’t it? A year ago, I’d just learned that Evie was pregnant, and a year later…I have a son. I have to see it through, raise him, and do my fucking best to be his dad, since his real dad was nothing but a sperm donor.

Clicking back onto the phone call, I announce my arrival and listen in. But it’s hard to concentrate. Because the video monitor in front of me displays the woman in the next room, holding Evie’s child, doing her best to get him to fall asleep. I’m filled with a strange urge to ditch the call and go in there. Find out more about her. Smell her skin, her hair, see what her breasts feel like in the palms of my hands, sink down between her legs.

I’d be fine if it were only a physical response.

But I want to talk to her, too. Find out why the finance-turned-nanny.

She’s tantalizing with those wide, innocent eyes. Fresh out of college and starting out in the world. I don’t know why, but I find myself wanting to show her things, tell her about life, teach her, take her under my wing, but there’s no fucking way. I don’t have time for interns, and I don’t have time for feelings.

My plate is full enough as it is.

Still, I can’t stop staring at her in the video monitor. Once Liam is down for the count, she leans back against the counter, pulls down her hair, and I catch those long tresses spilling over her slender shoulders. Just as quickly as they come down, she ties them back up, re-knots the bun, and straightens her glasses.

A smile threatens to break through my face. Miss Frasier is one of those women who has no idea how gorgeous she is. She might have an idea, but she doesn’t. Not really. She hasn’t learned the powers of her feminine ways yet, and I’m willing to bet that’s because no man has pulled it out of her.

You can’t be that man, Kase.

She’s hired help—nothing more, nothing less.

Despite the fact that I’m still on a call, Miss Frasier pokes her head through the door again. “He’s asleep,” she whispers.

I put the call on mute again. “Thanks. Get me some coffee now, would you please? Cream, no sugar.” I unmute the call. “When can I get those reports, Price?” At the door, Alana is giving me a strange look. I mute the call one more time. “Problem?”

“I just…” She scoffs, shakes her head, as if contemplating whether or not to speak her mind. “That’s not my job, Mr. Hardwin. I’m sure you have a secretary for that, don’t you?”

A-ha. Spunky attitude. Even hotter than she was a minute ago. “You’re right, but I did your job of quieting the baby for you, didn’t I? So now you owe me for using my time to teach you how to do your job. Actually, one sugar would be great. Thanks.”

I unmute the call again.

Miss Frasier looks like she’d rather be anywhere than here. I don’t get it. Most people are excited to start their new jobs, and I would’ve imagined a young nanny to be bright and peppy, happy to be holding babies. Instead, Miss Frasier looks like she hates this job and hates me.

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