by Joss Wood
And it was also why Malcolm had been able to act like they hadn’t shared a night of passion when she saw him the next morning at work. At the time she’d been surprised—and relieved—that Malcolm had been able to carry on working with her as if they had an unspoken agreement to never mention their night together again. The first day had been awkward, but he hadn’t batted an eye when she’d walked into his office with contracts for him to sign.
As if nothing had happened.
Because nothing had happened with him.
Nick, on the other hand...well, he’d rocked her world.
She drew in a long breath and gripped the door a little tighter.
Nick was watching her warily, waiting to see what her reaction would be. Or perhaps he’d been as disoriented by their kiss as she had. Either way, they needed to talk, and standing on her porch was not the place to do it.
“You’d better come in,” she said as she opened the door wider and stepped back into the hall to let him pass.
Once they were in her kitchen, she made him a coffee and herself a peppermint tea—something that seemed to be keeping the morning sickness steady.
Nick accepted the steaming mug, set it on the counter beside him and blew out a long breath. “Look, about the ball—”
“No need,” she said, cutting him off. It wasn’t something she wanted to revisit in the cold light of day. “We’re beyond that now.”
He shook his head sharply. “I have to say it. I should have been up front. Told you who I was.”
Looking at him now, dominating her kitchen with no effort at all, she wondered how she could have confused the brothers, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.
“If I’d known Malcolm’s brother was his identical twin, I might have put two and two together on the night. I’ve worked with Malcolm. He’s attractive, sure, but he never made my knees go weak.”
“And I do?” Nick said, a cocky grin forming on his lips.
“I think we’ve proven that. Twice now. But that’s not what you’re here to talk about.”
The grin widened, then faded again. “I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t deliberately deceiving you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You were there on Malcolm’s ticket. That’s pretty deliberate.”
“That’s a fair point,” he said, wincing. “There was something I needed to do for Malcolm.”
“Deal with his stalker?”
Nick’s head jerked up and he met her gaze, surprise clear in his eyes. “You saw that?”
The whole staff at Tate Armor knew about the guy—an ex-customer—who’d been so angry at Malcolm personally that he’d begun to make threats. Malcolm, nice as ever, had been trying to use diplomacy to defuse the situation. No one else had believed that had a chance of working. And the fact that the entire town was on edge thanks to the blackmailer Maverick only made things worse. There were whispers in the office that the guy might be working for Maverick, but Harper had always thought it was unrelated—Maverick’s modus operandi was completely different. Which had left them with a run-of-the-mill jerk who wasn’t responding to Malcolm’s way of dealing with the situation.
Then, at the masked ball, Harper had been fascinated when the man she thought was Malcolm had calmly but firmly laid down the law for the man. He hadn’t even had to say much. It had been in his slightly menacing stance. In his lethal tone of voice. The troublemaker hadn’t been happy, but he’d clearly known he was up against a brick wall and had let it go.
“Yes, I saw you. You were...formidable.” He hadn’t had to do anything sinister, but it had been obvious to both Malcolm’s stalker and to her that Nick was almost entirely composed of tightly coiled energy only just held under control. It had scared one of them off. Harper, however, had pulled him out onto the dance floor and made love with him soon after. “But you still could have told me.”
“I wasn’t sure if you knew Malcolm. You never called me by his name, so I thought you were meeting me just as me. Besides,” he said, his cocky grin back in place, “neither of us seemed to be in the mood for chitchat.”
She sipped her peppermint tea and hoped he’d attribute the heat in her cheeks to the steam curling up from the drink and not from blushing at the memory.
“And I would have told you afterward, but you left in a hurry.” He let the statement hang in the air—not quite an accusation, but clearly waiting for an explanation.
For a moment, she was back in the suite Nick had rented in the hotel where the ball was being held, straightening her clothes, mumbling an inadequate “I have to go” and trying not to break into a sprint, hoping Malcolm—Nick—didn’t get his trousers on and catch up to her before she made it out to her car.
She didn’t even meet his eyes as she said, “I suddenly realized I’d slept with my boss. There may have been some freaking out happening.”
He considered that for a moment and waited until she looked at him before replying. “I get that. Although, at the time, not knowing the background, you could say I was somewhat surprised.”
“It might have been different if I’d known you weren’t my—” She didn’t complete the sentence as the logic tripped her up. “Actually, you’re still my boss. Just the silent partner at the company.”
“True, but let’s leave that aside for the moment.” He took a mouthful of coffee, then put his mug on the counter and dug his hands in his pockets before meeting her gaze. “No excuses. I should have told you, and I apologize.”
“Accepted,” she said and blew out a breath, glad to leave the topic behind.
Nick picked up his coffee mug again and downed another mouthful. The silence was heavy with all that still sat unresolved between them, but she wasn’t sure how to start now.
Finally, he said, “We’d better talk about what we’re going to do.”
She pushed off the counter she’d been leaning on and headed for the living room. “Come in and sit down.” This conversation could go well or could be a disaster, and the only thing she had to help smooth the process was comfortable seating, which wasn’t particularly reassuring.
“So, we’re having a baby,” he said without preamble once they were settled on the sofa.
She nodded, glad he’d brought the subject up. He’d obviously known she was pregnant—the timing of his appearance was too coincidental to mean anything else—but she was relieved not to have to announce the news for the second time in one night. “We are.”
“I assume since you sought me—well, Malcolm—out, when you didn’t have to, that you’re planning on keeping it?”
“Yes.” She’d turned in her seat so her back was against the armrest. She wanted to be able to see his reactions more easily and also create a little distance. Clearly she needed all the help with that she could get. “Are you on board with that?”
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “Don’t doubt for a second that I want our baby.”
Unease prickled across her skin. His gaze was deadly serious, and she didn’t know him well enough to read him. Did he just mean that he didn’t want her to end the pregnancy, or was there a more ominous message? Was Nick Tate the sort of man who might try to claim sole custody? This man was a stranger, and to a certain extent she was at sea in knowing how to handle him.
Her lawyer’s sense of justice kicked in, pointing out that, by the same token, he had to be equally at sea with her. He was likely trying to read between the lines to discover all that she wasn’t saying, so for now she should give him the benefit of the doubt.
She drew in a breath and said, “Two babies, actually.”
His eyes widened. “Twins?”
“Yes.”
He sat back with a thud. “Okay, we’re having two babies.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he seemed lost in thought for a moment before returning his
focus to her. “How are you? Any morning sickness?”
Instinctively, she laid a hand over her stomach. “Only a little. I’m a bit queasy in the face of milk and greasy things, but not too bad.”
“Does the doctor say everything is okay?” His gaze flicked from where her hand rested on her belly and back again.
“She said everything is perfectly normal.” She tapped her fingers against her thigh, unsure of what else to say, then remembered that she had something she could show him. “I have a picture from the sonogram. Would you like to see it?”
He grinned. “You bet.”
She pulled the printout from inside the pages of a large hardcover book on the coffee table and handed it to him. Since her appointment, she’d spent so much time staring at this picture in wonder. It was almost surreal—they were her babies, growing inside her right this minute. Despite knowing so little about them, her love for these tiny beings was so strong, it enveloped her, vibrating with power, practically a living thing itself.
Speaking past the emotion that filled her throat, she pointed out the same things the doctor had highlighted to her, then waited, fingers laced, while Nick had a moment to absorb the first image of their children.
When he handed it back, his eyes had misted over. “Thank you. That’s...incredible.”
She blinked back tears before they could fully form. “It is, isn’t it?”
“If it’s okay with you,” he said, eyebrows drawn together, “I’d like to be at your future appointments.”
The sense of unease returned. They were his babies, too—he had a right to know how they were doing. And of course she’d dreamed of having someone there to share the excitement and the fears, someone who understood what she was feeling, someone who would be a priceless support.
Still...she was the one who was pregnant, and having him attend her appointments, where she would be prodded and scanned and intimate details of her body would be discussed? Even contemplating that happening with a stranger in the room—albeit a stranger she’d slept with once... A shudder ran down her spine. It was too much, too soon.
“Nick, I want you to know that I won’t keep the babies from you.”
He nodded, as if she’d confirmed something for him. “Good, we’re on the same page, because I plan to be involved.”
It was just what she’d been hoping to hear from the father of her unborn children, and yet, it made it so much harder to deliver the news she had to tell him. She bit down on her lip, trying to find the perfect words.
“At some point during my pregnancy, I’ll be moving home to Connecticut. I’m going to need my mother’s support with the twins, but you’ll be more than welcome to visit any time you want.” Her mother had been the first person Harper had called when the stick had turned pink. And thank God she had—her mother had put everything into perspective for her, taking her from being overwhelmed to getting her head around her impending motherhood and believing she could do it. A big part of that had been her mother’s offer to help her raise the twins. It was just what she’d needed to hear while she was panicking.
“Leaving?” he said, his tone a little sharper than it had been moments before. “You can’t leave.”
She laid a hand on his strong forearm, hating that she was doing this to him, but having no option. “I’m really sorry, Nick, but I honestly don’t think I can do this without my mom’s help.”
He reached over and closed his hand over hers, holding it to his arm, infusing her hand with the warmth of his skin, sending her pulse into an erratic rhythm. “I already have a daughter. Ellie. I can’t put into words how much I love her—she’s the most perfect thing in my life.”
Harper felt her mouth open, but she quickly caught the expression of surprise before it fully manifested. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised he had a daughter—she knew so little about him that there could be much larger secrets and she’d have no idea.
“Ellie’s a pretty name. She’s lucky to have you.”
“Well, that opinion’s in the minority. Her mother—my ex-wife—is trying to keep her from me. That is not happening again. I want to be a hands-on dad with our babies.”
Harper withdrew her hand from his grip and wrapped it around the nape of her neck. It was one thing for him to say he wanted to be hands-on, but they weren’t a couple, and at the end of the day it would likely still be her on her own with newborns. She couldn’t make this situation right for everyone. It was impossible.
Nick stood up in front of her, feet shoulder-width apart, hands on his hips. “Look, we’ve just met each other again, I’ve found out I’m going to be a father to twins and you’ve realized it was me and not Malcolm that night. This has been a big night for both of us.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“How about we take some time to let this all sink in before we discuss the future? I’ll come by tomorrow night and take you to dinner. We can talk more then.”
Harper hesitated. If she had to make a guess, she’d say Nick wanted to take her out to soften her up so he could change her mind about moving away. Agreeing to dinner felt like going out under false pretenses when she knew she couldn’t stay in Royal. But it was getting late, and he was right that it had been a big night. She’d been crashing into bed earlier now that she was growing two babies, and right now she was exhausted. All she wanted was to reheat some dinner and climb into her bed. So maybe putting the conversation on hold wasn’t a bad idea.
She stood as well. “Sure, that sounds good.”
“Great.” He headed for the front door and paused with his palm resting on the handle. The memory of the way he’d greeted her when he’d arrived flooded her mind, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing. If he’d kiss her again as he left.
But he simply said, “Is seven o’clock okay?”
Seven? Then her brain clicked back into gear. To pick her up. “Seven is good.”
He gave her a guarded smile and opened the door. “See you then.”
As she reached the door to close it behind him, he disappeared down the path and was gone. Barely an hour had passed since Nick Tate had exploded back into her life, and now everything was different.
And she was still unsure whether that was a good or a bad thing.
Copyright © 2017 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN-13: 9781488011757
The CEO’s Nanny Affair
Copyright © 2017 by Joss Wood
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
ter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share