Page 6 of Knocking up his Nanny

CHAPTER 4

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We’re on a date. And I’m terrible at dating, but I think I’m not supposed to complain about all of my problems… and we’re supposed to have fun. And you made such a delicious drink for me—this is fun. I’m having fun.”

“If you have to say that you’re having fun so many times, then you’re clearly not having enough fun,” he says lightly. “But that’s okay—we don’t have to pretend. We can talk about our real feelings and get to know each other, without all the first date fakeness.”

“I don’t think I want to,” I tell him softly. “If I do that, I’m just going to end up crying and you’ll get sick of me and all my emotions like a tornado all over the place... you’ll run right out of here in five minutes! Yes, let’s just keep it fun and light.”

“Now why would you think that?” he asks gently. “Life isn’t all about fun and games. We can have a real conversation without me needing to head for the hills and hide in the bushes.”

“That is not my experience with men,” I tell him with a sad smile.

“Then maybe you don’t have any experiences with real men,” he says, leaning closer, with a grin. “Maybe you’ve only dated weak little boys.”

Oh. My. Gosh.

The confident way he says that makes my tummy tingle. I have to shove my face back into my chocolate martini and take a large sip to distract myself from looking at his lips. Who is this man?

“But I understand if those toddlers on the playground weren’t ready to handle any real emotions. You were just babies having chocolate milk, after all. Now that we’re having grown-up beverages, we can surely have some grown-up conversations, right?”

“I don’t even know your name,” I say with an awkward smile.

“My name is—no,” he says, shaking his head. “If I tell you my name, you’ll just Google me and find out everything there is to know about me in thirty seconds. That defeats the purpose of going on a date, don’t you think? It removes all need for us to have an actual conversation.”

“Do you want to remain anonymous because you’re ridiculously rich?” I ask him.

“What makes you think that?” he asks with surprise.

“Your watch,” I point out.

“Oh,” he says, glancing at it. “Yes, well, that was a gift from my father.”

“Or maybe,” I suggest. “You don’t want me to know your name because you’re married, and if I discover that I’ll run out of here and throw my drink in your face?”

“Definitely not married,” he says. Then he takes a long drink of his cognac. “Well, I was. Many years ago. It’s a long story.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” I ask.

“Absolutely not. It’s probably a bit too heavy for first-date conversation,” he admits. “I would rather not tell you my name at this moment, but you’ll find out quite soon. Can you just trust me if I promise you that I’m not a sleazeball?”

“Okay,” I respond, against my better judgment. “I trust you.”

“Thank you,” he says gently. “I’m not great at dating either. I don’t really want to tell you about my job, or my past relationships, or my family—I want you to knowme. But I don’t even know how to tell you about myself without everything else.”

“See?! This is hard,” I tell him. “What do we talk about? What do we do?”

“I don’t know. But I can tell you what I’d like to do,” he says, staring at my lips.

“What’s that?” I ask, feeling the fire grow in my tummy again.

“You’ve got a bit of chocolate sauce—right here,” he says, gesturing up at his own lips. “May I?”

Feeling a bit strangely bold, I lift my drink to my lips and smear more of the chocolate all over them. “Where?” I ask innocently. “Here?”

He laughs softly, causing the cutest crinkle to form around his blue eyes. He reaches out to place a thumb on my cheek, and I can see that he wants to kiss me. Ugh, I am dying to know what his name is. The mystery of it drives me a bit wild, to be honest. I’m sure it’s something masculine and strong—maybe a bit wintery, as with most people who are native to Silver Mountain.

“My name is June,” I tell him softly.

“June,” he repeats. “Like the Juniper berry.”

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