Page 13 of Hired For the Billionaire's Secret Son

Ollie folded her arms across her bare stomach—she wore only a cropped exercise top and a brief pair of cycling shorts. ‘I’m sorry but who are you?’

‘I’m Greta Jensen, Bo’s housekeeper.’ She dropped to her haunches in front of Mat and smiled at the baby boy. Mat’s reciprocal smile was a great deal more gummy and drooly. ‘And this is little Mat. Oh, he looks just like Bo.’

Right, so Bo had told his housekeeper that he had a son, but he’d failed to inform Ollie that he had a housekeeper. They were going to have to work on their communication skills. And where was the man? It was after seven; shouldn’t he be up by now?

‘I’m Ollie, Mat’s nanny,’ Ollie said, looking at her yoga mat. She was only halfway through her routine and she needed another twenty minutes to unwind and work the knots out of her body.

Because she’d been thinking about Rebecca, Fred and her family—focusing on past grief, hurt and her current confusion—her mind would take a great deal more time to unknot. She needed hours of stretching, possibly days of meditation. It was time she didn’t have and, frankly, didn’t want to spend.

It was easier to stay unattached and remaining distant than work through emotional quagmires, another good reason to live her life solo. Why would she want the insecurity associated with a boyfriend or a lover? Who needed the ‘does he love me?’, ‘is this just about sex?’, and ‘will he still want me if I pick up five kilograms and get a spot on my chin?’ questions? She was already dealing with one situation she wasn’t keen on—the thought of working as an accountant—why would she want to deal with more than she needed to?

‘Shall I take him inside with me?’ Greta asked. ‘I will put him in his new feeding chair. I see you put some porridge out for his breakfast. I can make that for him, if you’d like. He can keep me company while I make Bo’s breakfast. I can make you some too.’

She’d been a nanny long enough to know that it was in her best interests to take any help when it was offered. And she could see Mat’s high chair from here and would know within seconds if he got fretful or weepy. ‘That sounds amazing, thank you.’

Greta scooped Mat up and placed him on her slim hip. It was obvious that she had experience with children. ‘I raised four children and have six grandchildren,’ Greta told her when Ollie asked.

Right.Why on earth had Bo employed her as a nanny when he had such an experienced woman working for him already? ‘You should be Mat’s nanny,’ Ollie told her, keeping her tone light.

‘I only work half-days for Bo a few times a week,’ Greta explained. She sent Ollie a naughty smile. ‘And, while I adore children, I very much like being able to give them back when I’ve had enough.’

Fair enough. Greta walked Mat into the kitchen and Ollie dropped back down to her mat, pushing her body into a cat cow. She’d continue with some basic moves for a few minutes before attempting the more complicated poses she’d spent a long time mastering.

Ollie was just getting into the zone, her mind reasonably still, when she heard the side gate open and slam close and rough breathing behind her. Dropping her foot, she whirled around to see Bo standing next to the gate, his attention on the smart watch on his wrist. He pushed buttons and nodded his satisfaction as Ollie stood there, staring at him.

That he was a big guy was obvious but, with him dressed in casual clothes yesterday, she hadn’t quite realised how big he was, or how muscled. In his athletic shorts and low-hanging vest, she noticed that his arms were huge, his legs muscled and that big muscles covered the balls of his shoulders and above his collarbone. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’d have a washboard stomach and could see that his chest, sprinkled with a fine layer of blond-brown hair, was as defined. He was gorgeous. Hot, ripped...

So very off-limits.

‘Morning,’ she said, shocked to hear her voice sounding deeper than normal and a little sultry.

His eyes darted between her, the blanket on the grass and the teething ring Greta had left behind. ‘Where’s Mat?’

‘Greta has him.’

Bo nodded. His eyes met hers and she was pulled into a glinting green fire as he took in what she was wearing. His eyes meandered down her body and over her breasts. Annoyingly, her nipples puckered, and his lips quirked. His gaze moved down her flat stomach and she felt the heat of his gaze on her legs, between her legs. She saw him swallow and watched as he pushed back his hair with one forearm.

His erection tented his shorts, and Ollie knew he liked what he saw. He was as attracted to her as she was to him. She’d been hoping that he’d be the one to keep the situation professional, their interactions on an even keel. She was wrong.

Damn this was not good. She really, really wanted to kiss him, to lay her hands on that big, masculine, oh-so-strong body. It had been a while, so she desperately wanted his arms around her, his mouth covering hers...

And the desire burning in his eyes told her he wanted that too.

‘We shouldn’t act on our mutual attraction...that would complicate matters.’

Ollie appreciated the fact that he could be honest about their attraction, that he didn’t pussy-foot around and pretend it wasn’t happening. She appreciated people being candid and preferred to look at situations as they were, not how she wanted them to be.

‘I know,’ she agreed, rubbing the back of her neck. ‘I don’t sleep with my employers.’

‘And I don’t sleep with my employees,’ he countered.

Ollie nodded and folded her arms across her chest, locking them in tight so that she didn’t throw herself at him. She didn’t recognise herself: she’d never reacted so intensely, so quickly, to a man. She felt as if she was a piece of kindle soaked in petrol and he was an unexpected spark...

Together she was certain they could burn down Copenhagen.

Ollie watched as Bo pulled in some deep breaths, and she did the same. The crackle of electricity that arced between them faded to a low buzz and, now that she wasn’t feeling overwhelmed by lust, Ollie could hear the sound of Greta talking to Mat, the sound of the washing machine churning and the little boy laughing.

She should be looking after Mat right now, making his breakfast and planning a new routine to make the baby feel more settled. She should not be out here, waiting and hoping to be kissed by her boss. Bo was paying her an extraordinary amount of money to give his son the best care she could, and she was doing yoga and dreaming of snogging his father.

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