The Billionaire Daddy. Renee Roszel
a very sentimental breed when it came to their charges.
He cleared his throat again. Seconds ticked by while he felt the ignominy of being scorned. He counseled with himself, Dade, buddy, I hope you haven’t become a pompous ass, expecting the world to revolve around you.
Her lack of attentiveness irked him. After all, the woman worked for him. She owed him the courtesy of acknowledging that he existed on the face of the earth! He scanned her from head to toe. She was pleasant looking, in a sensible-shoes way. Her brown hair was cropped to just above shoulder length in a straight, no-nonsense style. Her eyes were a no-nonsense olive-drab, and her lips had spent most of their time in his presence pressed together in a no-nonsense grimace.
Only now, with the baby, had he seen her smile. The sunny expression turned her cheeks a fetching pink and brought a radiance to her eyes that gave them a whole other dimension. A mossy green, soft and lush. The combination of her no-nonsense demeanor, plus her visible softness where Tina was concerned, pleased him, even if she did ignore him with what seemed like a very real desire to have him disappear.
He grinned to himself at the ridiculous thought. This was a well-paying job, and cushy as jobs went. She had no reason to dislike him. He decided to give up on subtle, and take the direct approach. “Miss Quinn?” He paused, with no intention of going on until she acknowledged him.
She didn’t make a single move to let him know she’d heard. He pursed his lips with annoyance.
“Miss Quinn, do you have a hearing problem?” he asked, more loudly.
Her glance flicked his way, though she didn’t quite meet his eyes, more like his cheek. “Oh, uh, no. I can hear.”
He crossed his arms before him. “Don’t you think, when your employer speaks to you, it would be polite to answer?”
Her no-nonsense face paled, and her brows quirked downward. “I didn’t—I mean…” When she met his gaze, tiny lightning bolts of unease flickered in her eyes. “Yes, sir.” She inclined her head, and Dade thought she was going to look at the baby. Instead, she watched him from beneath her lashes, like a feral cat peering out from the underbrush.
Lord, what was that look? Fear? Hate? He couldn’t tell if she was about to faint or attack. Attack? He grinned wryly at the crazy notion, concluding he knew what was wrong. He’d been a brute when she arrived, and she was afraid of him. He damned himself for his churlishness. She probably thought he was an ogre to be avoided at all costs.
In an effort to make amends, he decided light conversation was in order. After all, they would be living together. He didn’t want her to pass out every time he spoke to her. “What’s your first name, Miss Quinn?” he asked.
A flash of discomfort skidded over her features, and Dade wondered why the question might cause her trouble. He’d taken care to use his most diplomatic tone.
“I—” She swallowed and lifted her chin a notch. “I prefer Miss Quinn, sir. Or just Quinn.”
Her cool reply surprised him. He observed her silently for a moment, experiencing a mixture of amusement and exasperation. With a quirk of his lips, he nodded. “Okay, Just Quinn. Call me Dade.”
She didn’t smile, merely lowered her gaze to the baby. “No, thank you, sir.”
No, thank you, sir?
With a quizzical lift of a brow, he watched her features change from frosty to sweet as she gazed at the baby.
He didn’t recall a time when he’d felt so thoroughly dismissed. It appeared that the truly proficient nannies of the world felt superior, a bit arrogant, being in such demand. Not particularly familiar with nannies himself, their pecking order was new to him. Even if the agency hadn’t faxed him her résumé, Miss Quinn’s haughtiness alone had to mean she was one hell of a nanny.
Or maybe she simply hid her anxiety better than most. Some people defended themselves with belligerence. He decided to try again to develop a rapport. Perhaps a compliment. “You don’t look thirty-seven, Quinn,” he said. “I wouldn’t have guessed you are even thirty.”
She flicked him a wary glance. The smile he offered her was so courteous he could have been poster boy for the Kindly Scouts of America.
“I consider flattery a brother to sexual harassment, sir. How old I look is irrelevant to my position as nanny.”
He was caught off guard by her prickly rejoinder, his only response the astonished lift of one eyebrow. She had spunk. He had to give her that. But if she thought her lame threat would fly in his town, she was a little naive for thirty-seven.
Not one to give up easily, he decided to try again. “Tina’s a very good baby, Miss Quinn. My other nanny said so a thousand times.”
She cast him an oddly petulant look but didn’t reply. “I haven’t had much spare time to be with Tina, myself.” He paused, deciding she didn’t need to know he’d been busy trying to reorient his life to accommodate a child he’d neither expected nor wanted. Now that he’d finally worked out the necessary business adjustments, this month in the Hamptons would be the second, most difficult phase. Learning how to be a “father.”
“Will you be wanting weekly reports on her status, sir?” she asked, breaking through his thoughts. “Or bimonthly?”
“What?” He had no idea what reports she could mean. “I don’t—” His cell phone rang. With a halting lift of his hand, he excused himself, fishing the phone from his trouser pocket.
Lauren cringed at the memory of Mr. Delacourte’s shocked expression when she’d made her “sexual harassment” remark. He’d been taken by surprise. Clearly the last thing on his mind was flattery. He was making conversation, his motives not even vaguely sinful. Why that realization disconcerted her, she had no idea. She was not there to be flattered by the man, she was there to show him up for the irresponsible impregnator of women he was.
Troubled, she surveyed the posh interior of the limousine. It wasn’t huge, like those stretch limo’s she’d seen in movies. It was only slightly bigger than a regular luxury car. The major difference she could see was that the white leather seats faced each other. This arrangement unsettled her, since she would have preferred not to see him every time she looked up.
Tina had fallen asleep, so Lauren continued to scan the interior, trying to concentrate on anything other than the annoying man with his long legs casually stretched out before her. She hadn’t been able to help notice how the cotton trousers showed off nice thighs and well-developed calves. Nice thighs and well-developed—
She wasn’t doing a very good job of shifting her thoughts. She groaned. She sensed he heard and shot an apprehensive glance in his direction. He peered at her and covered the receiver. “Something wrong?”
She shook her head, compelling her glance to the hand-rubbed teak consoles, the CD and videocassette player. Even a color TV! She sighed. Lolling her head against the soft leather, she looked heavenward. Bright sky through the moon roof pierced her eyes and made her wince. Emotions frayed to the breaking point, she squeezed her eyes shut.
With a calming inhale, she recalled the man who’d assisted her into the car. In his late fifties, he’d impressed her as being kind. That surprised her. She’d assumed a man like Dade Delacourte would have a driver who looked more sinister. Of course, looks could be deceiving. She’d only seen the driver for a moment as he’d opened the door for her. He’d been as courtly as a footman helping a princess into her carriage.
A glass partition behind her separated them from the man. She thought about turning to check out the front seat of the car, but she didn’t shift around. She didn’t dare appear too much like a gawking hayseed. Surely Miss Quinn had been in limousines before and took them for granted.
She recrossed her legs, catching a glimpse of the luxury carpet. It was pristine white, as though it had never had a foot set on it until today. Regrettably, also residing on that snow-white carpet—much too close—was a pair of size twelve tan suede bucks