During her FBI career she’d had her share of aggravating assignments. Some of them had been high profile and some of them had put her squarely in the path of grievous bodily harm.
Something told her this one was going to take the cake.
Gabe Morgan felt like shit.
Leave it to Cara O’Connor’s kids to set up something low-down and sneaky like this. Not that he minded being caught buck naked, but the new nanny had looked angry enough to char steak.
As soon as the door to his guesthouse had closed, Gabe tossed down his towel and prowled through his living room. The woman didn’t even look like a nanny, for God’s sake. Since Gabe had only met one other nanny in his life, he didn’t have a lot to compare by, but he was pretty sure nannies were starched and prim, expert at holding hands, defusing temper tantrums, and hiding any real, honest thoughts.
Not Summer Mulvaney. Beneath that dark suit she looked strong and surprisingly well-conditioned. Besides that, there was her kick-ass attitude. The woman was cool and confident, with an intensity that had caught him by surprise. She didn’t mince words and he was pretty sure she didn’t take crap from anyone.
It was a trait Gabe Morgan had always admired, whether in men or women.
But something about Summer Mulvaney bothered him. She didn’t come across as your average, garden-variety nanny or nurturer. Then again, maybe he was crazy. There was no denying that this job was starting to get to him.
Frowning, Gabe shoved away thoughts of the new nanny as he rustled through his bureau, tugged on clothes, and located three fresh surgical bandages. He’d tackle fifty sit-ups and twenty squats, then see if he could push himself any further.
After that, he’d wrap his knee and take a short break, then start all over again.
He was so used to seeing the scars on his body that they might as well have been invisible. Even the memories had begun to blur, their grim details fading into a gray-green blur of jungle sky and blue-green water.
Followed by screaming pain.
But Gabe Morgan was an expert at pain. If a day went by without it, he worried that he was losing his edge. If a week went by, he started to feel bored.
Which was probably why he was so good at his current job.
But as he looked outside, he found himself remembering the nanny’s eyes when he’d turned in the shower. They were more gray than blue, more angry than afraid. Strange mix.
Strange woman.
He shook his head, irritated. Summer Mulvaney had great legs—or she would have without that bland blue skirt covering them down to the knees. Not that he would get a chance to see her legs or any other interesting parts of her body up close.
A damned shame.
But Gabe didn’t have time to waste on irrelevant things like his emotions or the new hired help.
It was time to get back to work, he thought grimly.
about the author
Award-winning author Christina Skye lives on the western slope of the McDowell Mountains in Arizona. CODE NAME: PRINCESS is her nineteenth novel. She holds a doctorate in classical Chinese literature and has traveled ten times to the Orient. Her favorite things are desert wildflowers after a spring storm, lightning in the high country, and a good ghost story. Be sure to visit her online at www.christinaskye.com.
Also by Christina Skye
Code Name: Nanny
Hot Pursuit
My Spy
Going Overboard
2000 Kisses
Come the Dawn
Come the Night
The Black Rose
The Ruby
Available from Dell
CODE NAME: PRINCESS
A Dell Book / October 2004
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2004 by Roberta Helmer
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eISBN: 978-0-440-33504-7
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